Chương 53: Ch 30b – Trials

"A short break," Crathsun repeats, collecting the shard from the table. Cara stretches as she stands, rolling up onto her tiptoes, flexing through her calves and thighs to wake her unused muscles.

"Can I go outside?" He taps the shard against his leg as he considers her request. Slips it into a side pocket, "Stay by the door."

"Thanks," she forces an insincere smile. Having spent the morning staring at each other while she tried and failed to replicate use of the shard again and again, they are both relieved to create some space between them. The hangar doors are shut. Wyndeer's team, it seems, have been given a morning off from the decommissioning effort. After the events of yesterday, it feels like everyone is trying to avoid the group and no one is objecting.

She makes her way down the corridor, heading to the side door at its far end. Flavitt ducks his head lower as she passes by his open door. Outside is a hazy silence. The sky is an impenetrable layer of dull white under which it traps moisture-laden air. On the ground the top layer of dirt has dried out from yesterday's downpour, but a quick scrape with her boot reveals the ground has not yet released the excess water. She walks in a short triangle, keen to be seen as keeping to Crathsun's instructions.

Half a day left, she thinks as she paces the outline, half a day to change Wyndeer's mind. Wyndeer had informed her at breakfast that he would be sending his report to Vheece this evening. That he is waiting to include any final observations from today. He did not elaborate on what difference the delay might make. He didn't need to. She understands she is reaching the crossroads between Wyndeer's co-operation approach and Vheece's force. She does not know his reasoning behind revealing the delay.

It could be pity, she ponders, or that he believes she is lying and his move will scare her into exposing how the shards work. Perhaps it is simple embarrassment at having her witness his team pull him off Draig. It doesn't matter. She understands his warning. She has half a day left, and no idea how the shard works. She rolls back her shoulders and twisted her arms as she flexes her stressed body. Even before Wyndeer's pressure her body had been suffering. Depression, not sleep, had been the theme of her night.

The shard's protective wall of memories continues to disintegrate brick by brick and her sadness rises like an incoming tide. It is not powerful thoughts of lost friends and loved ones that is her slow undoing. She is still managing to keep the overwhelming grief of those thoughts at bay, for now. It is the incessant drip of a loss of familiarity that pushes heavier and heavier on her body. It is the cup of water that she keeps in her room.

A cup with shallow dents to aid grip that are too far apart to fit comfortably in her hand. A cup made of an unfamiliar matt material that feels like a light grade sandpaper when it brushes her lips. It is the blanket on her bed that looks like a cheap satin weave, but that she has discovered scratches like a coarse wool. It is the latch on the door to her room that requires her to use both hands to pinch and twist simultaneously. On and on her mind insists on highlighting and picking apart each difference.

Following the internal announcement of each difference a memory brick falls from the wall. A flashback to shopping for Ikea glasses with her housemates at uni. The smell of clean sheets on her freshly made bed. The search for her front door key amongst the make-up, and tissues, and hair ties, and spare pens, and chewing gum, and other detritus in her bag. She kicks absently at a clump of long grass. A handful of the stems break off trailing a sticky sap as they fall to the ground.

A memory of pushing Gran's ancient manual lawnmower fills her vision.

"Stop," she mutters angrily to herself. She stomps over the discarded grass, back to the patch of dirt by the door. You don't have time for this, she chides herself, you need to work out how to use the shard. A low humming noise out towards the moor catches her attention. In the distance Magse stands by a rider, calling out to Erro as he jogs past. She feels a stab of envy. There had been a moment, when she had first agreed to his rules, she had contemplated asking Wyndeer if she might be allowed to go for a run.

The idea is absurd now, she has barely scraped permission to stand by the door. Erro, she sees, has a smooth style; easily lengthening his stride or twisting his hips to avoid the larger shrubs as he weaves a path across the scrub land. She savours the memory of the freedom of a run. The feeling of her body stretching to leap a puddle and the kick to increase her pace. Her eyes widen as understanding takes hold. She has been taking the completely wrong approach with the shards.

Cara runs down the corridor, grabbing hold of the doorframe to spin herself into the hall. Crathsun isn't there.

"Something wrong?" Draig stands up from the edge of the gym mats. He has sat there all morning, sulking, with his back against the wall. One leg strewn across the mat, the other bent, his knee propping up the lazy arm that hid most of his face as he watched her.

"Where's Crathsun?" she pants, still looking around.

"Here," Crathsun says, walking through the doorway behind her. He looks from Cara to Draig, trying to understand her urgency.

"Shard, Crathsun," she says, holding out her hand. Seeing the look of distrust cross his face she adds, "I've thought of something else to try."

"I'll let Wyndeer know."

"I'll try my idea first," she says quickly, "if it works, I can show him." The thought of having Wyndeer looming over her is already casting shade on her sudden optimism.

"I'll let Wyndeer know," Crathsun repeats, making it clear it isn't a suggestion. Cara sighs and tries to kick away the doubts snapping at her heels as she goes to sit down at the metal table.

"What idea?" Draig asks, trailing behind her.

"Just an idea." She tries to dismiss him, not wanting to go into details for something that may not, probably won't, work. It is the first time she has seen him up close since he launched himself at Wyndeer. He has two black eyes and a clear film bandage stretched tight across his nose. His indigo eyes are dulled and bloodshot. He looks worse off than Wyndeer's bruised, swollen cheek and split lip.

She swallows down her desire to ask him if he is ok, instinctively knowing he will resent her bringing attention to his injuries.

"Cara," Wyndeer demands her attention as he strides into the room.

"What now?"

"I-, I-" She silently curses herself. Wyndeer has said three words, and she has spiralled into flailing nerves before his eyes. She clears her throat and begins again.

"I thought of something new to try." This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

"What?" He draws level with Draig and to her surprise acknowledges him with a nod.

"It's- Why don't I just try and if it works I can explain." She fights hard to keep her forearms resting on the table and to not give in to the impulse to retreat her hands to her lap. He studies her for a moment, as if considering if she was worth his time. Then his features soften and his shoulders round.

"Fine," he mutters. Crathsun lays a shard on the table in front of her. Next to it he places one of the tiles from the game he played with Magse. One item to hold. One item to move. Cara mumbles a thanks. Picking up the shard she focuses on the tile, trying to ignore the three dominating men standing a few meters away. Think of the tile, she tells herself. Think of the sensation of running. She knows she is in danger of overthinking it, so she launches straight in.

With a familiar buzz and tingle the shard activates in her hand. She thinks of the tile, and she thinks about the idea of running. Nothing. She thinks of the tile and she thinks about the idea of moving. Nothing. She lets out her breath. Repositions herself in her seat. Out of her eyeline one of the men shifts their weight, their boot scrapes against the floor. She refuses to look up at them. Sweat starts to rise under the skin of her palms. She grips the shard tighter and activates it.

She thinks of the tile, and she thinks about the notion of wanting to run. Nothing. She thinks about the tile and the notion of it wanting to move. The tile slides. Her chair clatters to the ground as she jumps to her feet.

"It moved!" she exclaims, seeking out Wyndeer's confirmation. He frowns and moves closer to the table.

"Do it again." In the moment she is flooded with such excitement and relief that she finds herself panting short breaths. She must gulp hard to draw in and hold air in her lungs. Activating the shard, she impresses on the tile the notion of wanting to move. The tile slides a centimetre, stops, then jerks forward, this time sliding off the table and onto the floor. She looks expectantly at Wyndeer, wanting to see her triumph reflected so that she can affirm it is real. He holds out his hand.

"Shard, Cara," he requests, flicking his fingers as he reaches the table. She holds the shard protectively against her chest.

"I did it," she says in confusion. She moves to pick up the tile. Wyndeer's thick boot steps to cover it.

"You did, let's talk about how. Return the shard first." She sees the distrust in his eyes. His expectant hand insists his control of the situation. Crathsun moves up to join him by his side. For a second she is back in the bunkhouse, trapped and confused. The shard buzzes in her hand. She quickly releases the breath she hadn't realised she was holding. Her happiness at unlocking the shard dissolves into dread as she remembers how powerful it can be.

She relinquishes the shard, placing it not into his hand but down on the table between them. Crathsun scoops up the shard and takes a step back. Wyndeer's frown softens.

"Tell me how you did it." Cara looks uncertainly at Draig. He reflects the relief she had felt.

"Tell us Cara," he encourages her. She tries to swallow but her mouth is dry.

"Well. I was watching Erro running and how he was adjusting his stride to clear the shrubs in his way. And that got me thinking about how when you start running you don't tell your legs to run, you just start running." She pauses, distracted by what looks like a smile tugging at the corner of Draig's mouth.

"Cara," Wyndeer huffs, "Succinctly and to the point. How did you use the shard to move the tile?"

"I gave the tile the notion that it wanted to move," she blurts out. Wyndeer's stern look is lost to confusion.

"Explain," he says.

"In simple terms; I gave the tile the notion that it wanted to move," Cara shrugs.

"You know, move across the table." She gestures at the table as if that is the part that Wyndeer is struggling to grasp. Wyndeer pinches the bridge of his nose between his index finger and thumb, tilting his head down so that he can still see her over his hand.

"You gave an inanimate object the notion that it wanted to move?"

"Yes," she answers, keeping to his request for a succinct answer.

"You gave an inanimate object the notion it wanted to move," he repeats.

"Yes," she repeats, unable to think of another way to phrase it in a single sentence. Crathsun has picked up the tile and is now holding it up to the light, as if to confirm it is the same tile. Perhaps to confirm it is still inanimate.

"May I?" Draig asks Wyndeer. Wyndeer brings his hand down, resting it on his hips.

"Yes," he sighs. The politeness between the two men is unprecedented. Cara looks between the two. Both have the raw marks of the fight visible on their faces. The knuckles on Wyndeer's hand are swollen and grazed. His fingers flex irritably on his hip. She can only guess that the fight between them has triggered some sort of truce.

"What," Draig asks, pulling her attention back to the conversation, "is the connection between Erro's running and giving a tile the notion of moving?"

"Um. Well, not really Erro's running, just running in general." She stops herself, taking a moment to massage her temple as she tries to rephrase her thoughts.

"When you start to run you don't command your legs to run. You don't isolate each muscle and tell it to contract or extend. You just signal your desire to start running by giving your body the notion to run." She pauses to make sure he is following. Draig nods.

"So, I used the same principle on the tile. I didn't tell it to move. I didn't try to understand how it could move. I just gave it the notion, the impulse, to move. And I think that's what I did with the black balls. I gave them the notion to go into the open trunk." Draig, she can see, is fighting hard to maintain an understanding expression. She licks her lips as she thinks of how to rephrase it again.

"Before, I was trying to tell an object to move, which doesn't work. In the same way that I can't tell each muscle to contract to move. I just don't have any understanding of isolated muscles and the complexity of which muscle must move in what order when I want to bend my knee. But my body knows. So, I let my body know of my desire to run and my body translates that to the mechanics of my muscles." Draig loses his fight, confusion spreads across his face. He exchanges a look with Wyndeer.

Neither seem to know how to proceed. Cara chews on her lip, trying and failing to think of another way to explain it.

"When I do a press up," Crathsun starts speaking cautiously, "I don't consciously control every muscle I need to complete the move. I think about doing the press up and my body responds." He looks at her for confirmation.

"Exactly, Crathsun!" she says excitedly. Her arm twitches to give him a high five, but she curbs the reflex, unsure if he knows what a high five is.

"But," Wyndeer interrupts, "the tile is inanimate. It has no muscles. It has no capacity to move on its own." Cara shrugs, "I have no idea how it works, but that's the kind of thinking that was stopping me before. I express the movement as a notion to the object I want to move. The shard translates and does whatever is needed to actually move it. You asked me how I did it, not how it works." She holds up her hands in innocence. Wyndeer swears under his breath and rubs hard at the back of his neck.

"Do it again," he says gruffly, indicating to Crathsun to return the shard. The tile is not on the table, so Cara considers the table itself. She takes a step back, activates the shard, and gives the table the notion to slide towards her. A loud scraping noise echoes in the cavernous room as the table slowly covers the distance, its metal legs trailing scratches on the floor. She lets out her breath before the table reaches her. All three men look at the table as if they have never seen one before in their life.

Cara allows herself a moment to enjoy success. She activates the shard again, this time giving the table the notion to spin. The table begins a slow anticlockwise turn, gradually speeding up as it completes a 180, then a 360 degree spin. On the second full spin its momentum increases, as if it is gaining confidence in the sensation of this new movement. It slides across the floor as it turns. Shifting closer to her until one corner strikes her thigh. She lets out a small yelp. The table stops dead.

"I guess it takes practice," she says, rubbing a soothing hand against her leg.

"Yes, "Wyndeer muses as he leans over to take the shard from her hand. She releases it without protest.

"Crathsun, take Cara to the rec room, get Magse to observe. Then find me. She needs a training plan." Cara balks at the sudden dismissal. Her move to object is interrupted by Draig.

"Well done, Cara," Draig says. His bruised eyes flash a warning. She presses her lips together to contain her remarks. He gives her a tiny nod. On her way out she pretends not to hear the words Wyndeer murmurs to Crathsun as he passes him the shard.

"I want it secure at all times."