The Christmas Planet and Other Stories (Beta Version) Page 8
The sky was a deep blue I’d only seen at higher elevations. A gusty wind moaned through the pines. Sometimes we had to raise our voices to talk.
Being a good and moral spouse, I’d used my mind control on her only once before. At her request. She’d wanted to understand this weird thing her freak of a husband could do, so we had set off on a long run in Yosemite National Park.
I remembered that day clearly: After three-and-a-half hours of elevated heart rate, my power had zapped on, along with its weird headache. It’s weird because the pain is somehow outside of my head, like a beach-ball-sized donut.
We’d been far from the Yosemite crowds, and I’d said, “Okay, it’s time. What do you want me to make you do?”
She whispered in my ear and I nodded. Her suggestion was exactly what I had in mind.
Like a god, I pointed to her and commanded, “You will now make passionate, uninhibited love to me.”
It was the best sex we ever had, despite my headache. When we finished, we had to collect our running clothes scattered around a wide area of the pine-needled forest floor. I never did find my underwear.
“Did you see a family of hikers go by?” I’d asked her.
“You mean while we were—?”
“Right.”
She’d smiled. “Didn’t notice.”
It was a fond memory.
Bringing my thoughts back to our Vermont skiing expedition, I realized I’d have to find something else to command her to do. Making love naked in the snow on a sub-zero, windy day? Brr. I have to admit, the idea kind of turned me on, but the point of the session was to see whether she could learn to resist my mind-control.
I eventually got into the rhythm of the skiing, aping Viviana’s smooth movements. Maybe this was better than jogging—we flew along, the hiss of the skis on the snow audible between gusts. We crossed a ridge and a vista of far mountains opened up on one side. “We’ll have to do this again with Cosmina,” I yelled.
After a few hours, my scalp tingled. “It won’t be long now. Let’s find a deserted spot.”
We followed a small path to a flat area of exposed bedrock and took off our skis. I ran in place. Any second … zap! The pain rocked me from the outside—it’s hard to describe.
I’d decided to keep things simple. Sit on that rock, I commanded. I didn’t say it out loud, and she—hey wait a second!
Viviana sat. I had never realized it before. Because I didn’t have to speak my command out loud, it meant that in a sense, she was reading my mind.
Stand up. I directed the thought to her. Viviana stood up so quickly, her feet almost left the ground.
“How did you know I told you to stand up?” I was running in place to keep my power going. Tough to do with a migraine-intensity headache.
She frowned, “You told me to, yes? I don’t understand.”
“But I didn’t say it out loud.”
“Yes, you did say—”
Can you hear me now?
“Yes, of course. Don’t need to yell.”
I’d known, of course, that mind reading and mind control were somehow related, but hadn’t really appreciated that the controlee was hearing my thoughts. Maybe, since the recipients had never experienced mind reading, they felt compelled to follow the commands they experienced in their head. Like obeying one’s own thoughts. Was I oversimplifying?
“Viviana, you are hearing my thoughts. Watch my lips.” Sit down again.
She sat.
“Did my lips move?”
She squinted and cocked her head.
“Answer m—”
“Lips did not move.”
Next, I would try to get her to not obey my command. It would be dangerous. Some past events had suggested that mind readers who resisted mind control could develop some serious neurological consequences. Like a memory wipe. Perhaps this whole exercise was too risky.
“Viviana, I’m going to command you to stand up again—no, not yet—and I want to you consider that you are just hearing the words in your head. You don’t have to obey the thoughts, just listen to them, observe them. I’m not saying to resist. Just realize that maybe you don’t need to obey them. Okay?”
She nodded.
“Stand up.”
She looked off into space and seemed confused. Had I gone too far—risked her sanity?
She stood up, but slowly and after a delay. So, maybe I could teach her to resist thoughts. Resist the command to buy a pony. At that point, I had second thoughts. The risk of damage to her mind was too great. I decided to stop and give more thought to the risks versus the benefits.
A funny smile spread across Viviana’s face.
“What?” I said.
She came over and whispered in my ear.
Turns out making love in the snow isn’t unpleasant after all.
REQUEST FOR REVIEWS
Thank you for reading these short stories. I enjoyed writing them, and I hope you had fun reading it.
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Also by Al Macy
Becoming a Great Sight-Reader—or Not! Learn from my Quest for Piano Sight-Reading Nirvana
Drive, Ride, Repeat: The Mostly True Account of a Cross-Country Car and Bicycle Adventure
Contact Us: A Jake Corby Sci-Fi Thriller
The Antiterrorist: A Jake Corby Sci-Fi Thriller
The Universe Next Door: A Jake Corby Sci-Fi Thriller
Yesterday’s Thief: An Eric Beckman Paranormal Sci-Fi Thriller
Sanity’s Thief: An Eric Beckman Paranormal Thriller
Democracy’s Thief: An Eric Beckman Paranormal Thriller
A Mind Reader’s Christmas: An Eric Beckman Mystery
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I’d like to thank my loyal newsletter subscribers for reading early versions of these stories and giving me feedback. I’d especially like to thank qqq.
As always, my copy editor, Julie MacKenzie from FreeRangeEditorial.com, offered many valuable suggestions that improved the book substantially.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Al Macy writes because he has stories to tell. In school, he was the class clown and always the first to volunteer for show and tell. His teachers would say, “Al has a lot of imagination.” Then they’d roll their eyes.
But he put his storytelling on the back burner until he retired and wrote a blog about his efforts to improve his piano sight-reading. That’s when his love of storytelling burbled up to the surface, along with quirky words like “burble.”
He had even more fun writing his second book, Drive, Ride, Repeat, but was bummed by nonfiction’s need to stick to “the truth” (yucko). From then on it was fiction all the way, with a good dose of his science background burbling to the surface.
Macy’s top priority is compelling story lines with satisfying plot twists, but he never neglects character development. No, wait … his top priority is quirkiness, then compelling story lines, then character development. No, wait …
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