“Every generation finds its own frontier, and this one is yours, Will,” said Geist with an evangelist’s zeal. “It may well be the last frontier. Someone from your cohort, maybe even a person you know, will become the Magellan, Cortés, or Columbus of this world. They won’t be in search of a new trade route or commodities like spice or sugarcane. The possibilities of discovery here are infinitely more profound, because we can now say with certainty that somewhere on this map all the answers to the mystery of human existence—of creation itself—are waiting to be found.”
Images of plant and animal life, boundless varieties of both, flashed across the screen, around the twisting strands of DNA and four letters: A, T, C, and G. Will was mesmerized by the elegant spectacle.
“All life on earth owes its existence to the secrets of these simple, elegant forms, but for most of nature, their fates are written in their code—as limitations—with the finality of stone. This flower blossoms in purple; that small mammal mates exclusively during two weeks each spring; this bird’s life is ruled by rigid migrations.
“Less than seven percent of the building blocks of life are unique to human beings. Seven percent that allows our species to ‘transcend’ in a single generation what, to every other form of life, are unbreakable boundaries. Seven percent that, in ways we don’t yet understand, is responsible for the phenomenon of ‘human consciousness.’ The phenomenon that in only a few thousand years has given us …”
A cascade of images flowed on-screen, familiar faces, mathematical formulas, engineering blueprints, musical notes.
“… Shakespeare, Newton, Mozart, Leonardo da Vinci, Jesus, Beethoven, Dickens, Michelangelo, Edison, Einstein, Gandhi, Galileo, the Buddha, the Beatles … With this map in hand, we will one day, soon, crack the secrets of that seven percent. You and your contemporaries may awaken as an evolutionary generation that leads humankind to a brighter future.”
Geist tapped the stylus and a sea of young faces appeared, students at the Center gazing up at something dazzling and unseen. “And here lie wonders to behold.”
Will walked away from class lost in thought. If Geist’s intention had been to make him think, he’d succeeded: His primer on genetics focused Will’s mind in a new way on these mysterious abilities he’d been discovering almost every day. They had to have a genetic basis, but as far as he knew, Jordan and Belinda West had never demonstrated anything like these talents he now possessed.
If he didn’t inherit them from his parents, where the hell had they come from?
OceanofPDF.com
THE WEIGHT ROOM
Will rang the bell on the counter by the cage in the locker room. He’d picked up his laundry bag from his locker, leaving time to change before practice.
“Hey, Jolly, you there?”
“You again,” said Nepsted.
Will heard his wheelchair before the dwarf rolled out of a small room on the side of the cage that Will hadn’t noticed before.
“I forgot to ask,” said Will, holding up the mesh bag. “What do we do with our laundry?”
“Drop it in a shower room hamper,” said Nepsted. “It’ll be delivered to your locker in two days. Except Fridays. Drop it Friday, you get it back Monday.”
Nepsted rolled up to his side of the cage and held Will with his strange round, unblinking eyes.
He said come back when I’m ready. Am I? Only one way to find out.
“We were talking about the mascot the other day,” said Will carefully. “I learned something I want to ask you about.”
“Oh?”
“Did you know the original Paladins were the Knights of Charlemagne?” asked Will.
“Do I look stupid?” asked Nepsted, neutral. “If you know so much, tell me how many there were.”
“Twelve,” said Will. “They called themselves the Peers.”
“Twelve is a sacred number,” said Nepsted, his voice a mesmerizing drone. “Wholeness. Unity. Twelve signs of the zodiac. Twelve tones in the musical scale. Twelve face cards in a deck. Twelve on a jury. Twelve nights of Christmas. Twelve labors of Hercules. Twelve men on the moon. Twelve petals of the unfolding eternal lotus. Twelve hours of darkness, twelve of light. Twelve tribes of Israel—”
Will instantly regretted asking him anything. The guy sounded as nuts as a conspiracy freak broadcasting from a mobile home in the desert.
“Months, inches, eggs,” said Will. “I get it—”
“Twelve Paladins,” said Nepsted emphatically, then paused before adding, “Twelve disciples.”
“Disciples …,” said Will. “You’re saying … the Paladins are disciples? Of who? The Old Gentleman?”
Nepsted’s head wobbled as he grinned crookedly. “The Knights follow the Old Gentleman, but they’re disciples … of something else.”
“Something? Not someone? You mean like the Never-Was?”
Nepsted’s eyes lit up, but he just shrugged. He likes toying with me, Will thought. Time to stop talking in circles.
“Does the school know about the Knights?” asked Will.
Nepsted grinned at him. “Would they pick a paladin for our mascot if they didn’t?”
“But do they know about what’s down in that auxiliary locker room?” asked Will. “Do they know about the tunnels?”
“What makes you think I’d know that?”
“You told me you’re the one with all the keys.”
“All but one,” said Nepsted cryptically.
“You know what’s really going on down there, don’t you?” Will insisted.
Nepsted suddenly looked frightened. “If you’ve got business there, you know what goes on. If you don’t know what goes on, you’ve got no business there.”
Knowing he’d touched a nerve, Will moved closer to the cage and pointed a finger at Nepsted. “You know what’s down there, and you know what it’s for. The hats and the masks and the tunnels that run under the lake and come out at the Crag. I think you even know about the Never-Was. You told me you’re the one who knows everything that goes on around here. Or were you just lying?”
Nepsted’s face contorted, turning an alarming beet red. “How many locks do you see around here, kid?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Bring me that answer,” said Nepsted, hissing with venom. “Or don’t come back.”
Nepsted pushed a button on his side of the counter. A screen of articulated metal siding began to slide down from the ceiling on Nepsted’s side of the cage. He turned around to ride away.
Will called after him, “What do the Knights want? What are they doing here? Why are you afraid of them?”
This time Nepsted whipped his chair around and zoomed to the counter with startling speed. He pointed a long bony finger at Will as the metal lowered past his face. “You’ve got a right to put your own life in danger, but don’t you dare mess with mine, boy. Do you hear me? It’ll go far worse for you than you can imagine.”
The screen crashed onto the counter with a resounding clang. Will heard the squeak of Nepsted’s chair retreating into the cage.
“Great,” muttered Will. “I pissed off the sociopathic dwarf.”
“How many locks do you see around here, kid?” What the hell did that mean? It was like trying to talk to a fortune cookie. Rumpelstiltskin clearly held the key to more than just doors, but the first challenge was unlocking him.
Maybe next time I should use my “enhanced” powers of suggestion, thought Will.
He dropped his laundry into a hamper and glanced at his watch. Eight minutes to get to Jericho’s cross-country practice. He hurried to his locker and changed into his sweats. The spike wounds from Suicide Hill had nearly disappeared already. Only faint red lines remained from yesterday’s long nasty scrapes.