Lab Rat part 6

Posted: January 16, 2011 in Fiction, Test Subject

I’m thinking that tonight I need to write about something else. I don’t want people to get tired of this story. It’s just that I’m having so much fun with it! Maybe I’ll do one more and then move to something else for a little bit.

Telekinesis. Or something like it. This is so cool. I picture a crushed pop can in my mind. The real can immediately crumples. I send the wad of aluminum flying down the street. Time for a little science. I start with my weight limit. There’s a parked car about halfway down the block. I do my best to make a mental image of it. It’s a black Nissan Altima, only a couple of years old. I close my eyes and picture it six inches off the ground. I can feel my head start to hurt; I guess that’ll be the measure of physical strain. I’ve had to talk to Ally about how bad something hurts on a scale of one to ten a few times and I guess a ten will determine my upper limit.

When I open my eyes, the car is floating about six inches off the ground. My headache rates about a four. I put the car down, and my headache abates, mostly. I need something heavier. I look around but I don’t see anything bigger than the Nissan. I’ll have to test other things for now. I take out the remaining loose change from my pocket. I have about a buck seventy five in assorted coins. I lift each one out of my hand one by one until I have almost twenty coins floating in a cloud in front of me. My headache hasn’t increased. I lift the Nissan again, keeping the coins airborne as well. My head throbs. It’s still a four, maybe a five. It could be that as long as I can stay focused, the real limit is on weight and not on quantity. I drop the car again, and all the coins tumble to the ground at the same time. Yeah, it’s definitely a concentration thing. My headache fades again.

I gather the coins into a cloud in front of me again, and send one floating down the street. It gets to about half a block away before I can no longer tell if I’m holding it aloft. I try to draw it back, but get nothing. I take the next coin and push it toward the stop sign as fast as I can manage. My headache increases to a three, and I hear a pinging sound. I take a step toward the sign to investigate, but I have a better idea. I picture myself as I am, but about three feet off the ground. I feel my feet lose connection with the sidewalk. I’m hanging in the air with my coins. I grin. Time to do something stupid.

I think of myself hurtling down the street. My head hurts pretty bad at this point, but I go flying toward the stop sign. Fast. Too fast. I try to push off the sign, and clip it with my shoulder. I go spinning into the street and hit the pavement. My head is killing me, about an eight. It’s bad enough that my eyes are tearing. Fuck, that was stupid. I peel myself up off the street. I try to find any of my change, but it’s gone. I take a look at the sign. It’s bent, and there’s a hole between the S and the T about the size of a dime. I look myself over. The palms of my hands look like hamburger. I brush them together to get the rocks off and have to stifle a scream. My head throbs, but I’m pretty sure that’s from playing with the power. My shoulder feels like it’s on fire, but I can still move it. It probably isn’t dislocated. I wipe the tears from my face and sniff. My nose is completely clogged. I blow, and a paintball splatter of blood hits the sidewalk.

I desperately need to clean up my living area, but when I’m home I want to be writing. When I’m not home, I’m working and I’d still rather be writing.


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