Perpetual Motion Machine (Odd)

[Anonymous]

Perch felt a bit as though he'd become one of the little balls in one of those physics demonstrations.  One would swing out and hit the other three, and they wouldn't move, but the one at the other end would move.  He felt like one of the metal balls in the middle.  He didn't move--shivered a little--kept his head down--saw what was going on with the others.  Week two.  He had met Vaughan Liik.  He had read something weird off him, one of the first times he had gotten the 'blocked' message.  It weirded him out.  Obviously the Pilots almost all sent the 'blocked' message, but wasn't Vaugh a gracie too?  Wouldn't think he could do it.  Oh well.  Perch would learn.

It was his second day off.  He had been too tired this week for Magball.  It wasn't bad, not as bad as what the Stage Twos seemed like they were going through.  He sat up, slowly, in bed, and checked the time.  Eight-forty.  It was all right to miss breakfast, he had taken protein powder and there was milk in the common room fridge.  He sat up slowly, rubbing at one sore shoulder, and got dressed--he had to stop halfway through when he realized he had put on the gray Candidate uniform again, and changed out into black jeans and a green Limerick Porfiry Magball shirt with the iconic team Nova star on the front.  Didn't bother brushing his hair, why bother... wasn't going to see Val over videochat anytime soon.  That shit was just ridiculous.  Oh well.  He was only tired.  And homesick, how pathetic was that, there were Candidates here younger than he was.  Perch shook himself and brushed his teeth and then he felt better.  

He slid on some shoes and made his way out of his room, swinging his shoulders and arms a little to loosen up.  As he passed each Pilot he send out just a little mental touch, just for comfort.  It felt good, didn't it?  Just connecting with people.  He hadn't noticed how he'd missed that mental touch.  At home he'd always kind of had his parents' thoughts all around him, it was like a warm bath, no wonder he was sad here--

"Hey, kid."  

A skinny Pilot with wild brown hair grabbed him by one shoulder.  Oh great, what now.  

"Careful where you poke, kid, someone'll poke back someday."  He winked and ruffled Perch's hair, then pushed him away.  "Not me, of course.  Word to the wise."  

He had left before Perch could ask, well, then, how do I stop?  Maybe he'd ask Fala.  But he'd already done the like me move with her, what if she figured it out?  No, no, that was really dishonest.  He'd just tell her.  Tomorrow.  'How do I stop trying to make everyone like me.'  That sounded kind of pathetic.  Damn.

He made his way into the common room and cut across the couches toward the fridge--when he noticed that paint-covered guy sprawled across one of them, fast asleep.  Damn, he was always asleep.  Perch was amazed he got away with it, and sort of jealous--well, and he really ought to tell him the time, just in case he was like Perch had been last week, he'd probably be starving.

"Hey."  He poked the sleeping kid on the shoulder.  "Hey--sorry--you know breakfast's over in ten minutes, right?"

[Anonymous]

Haven felt even more groggy that morning than usual. Perhaps it had something to do with his new mentor's work ethic. It was true Haven lacked in the physical department, but he was already an insomniac and he was kind of on the small side. His body didn't really like all this heavy physical activity. He could ace everything else but this was his weakest point. Of course maybe Bart's mysterious ability to put people to sleep might help him if he could get the guy to put him under at night. He'll be amazed if he manages to. The Pilot Royal was rather strict but he was beginning to notice despite that that he was kind of like Haven in personality. Easy going, but seemed serious when it came to the Pilots and training him. Haven didn't mind too much, just wished Bartolomeu would let him call him Barty. Oh well.

It was his first day off since Pilot Hamilton became his mentor, he wasn't sure how many he'll get. Haven always felt he was floating through his life with a strange since of loneliness and uncertainty he didn't off show others. Most people didn't know what was up with the kid, if there was anything he definitely excelled at aside from his art was blocking people out of his head. He didn't like being that raw in front of someone. Besides it was nice not knowing what others are thinking sometimes. He liked the quiet. Those times when he couldn't control it at all were the worst. It was a flood of thoughts and emotions that so overwhelmed him he sometimes couldn't even breathe. It was a nightmare, those days when he was very young and before he was found for the candidacy. It was a better life here, he supposed than back at the orphanage even though it was located in the middle caste of Haviah. He had always had weird interests and he had been shy, many of the others boys and girls picked on him and eventually he was completely excluded. It wasn't too different at the Training Complex but it was easier.

Since Haven hadn't actually slept the previous night he was probably the first one up for breakfast. He had spent the night in his room, sans a roommate because no one could sleep with him around, painting a strange abstract world on a canvas. It now sat alone on his easel drying while Haven had showered dressed and exited his room with nothing but a hand held game in his pocket. Then as silent as a mouse he wandered the nearly empty halls to the common room, he kept his eyes on the ground and yawned every seven or so minutes. He didn't speak to anyone though at the time there was hardly anyone to speak too so early anyway.

His lithe and weak frame carried him to a vending machine and he got a sugary snack for breakfast. He liked sugary stuff because it tasted good and gave him bursts of energy. He settled on a sofa he sometimes frequented even though he was known for sitting and napping in unusual places. He finished his snack and then played some of his hand-held before he finally drifted off.

By the time Perch apparently wandered into the common room, Haven was awkwardly curled up on one end of the sofa with a single arm hanging off. The hood of his threadbare old jumper was over his head and it looked big on him and made him appear even smaller. At least it looked like it might swallow him. His slightly holey pants or jeans were more fitted and he had paint splattered white slip-on like shoes. Actually all of his clothes had at least a bit of paint on it. He felt someone poke him and he frowned, easily stirred out of his nap when he heard someone speaking to him.

Haven sat up immediately afterward. His hood slipped off in the motion and he yawned wide, his slip hand shooting out of the sleeve to scratch at his head. His inverted bob black hair was slightly mussed from the nap. His heavy green eyes squinted up at the person hovering above him before relaxing. He half-smiled before he replied, "I ate already, no worries. Also...don't apologize, I'm used to it." Of course he meant being disturbed from naps. Nothing new there. He yawned yet again and started to look around himself, finally he dug between couch cushions underneath him and pulled out his hand-held that got buried. He brushed off any couch gunk and stuck it in his jumper pocket. Finally he looked back up at the boy and tilted his head, he's seen him before. Stage one candidate, wasn't he? He wondered if he should gauge his emotions, but that would be rude.

[Anonymous]

"Just checking."  Perch nodded at the boy and gave him a cautious smile, a little wary of his own immediate psychic impulse.  He didn't even control it anymore.  If he ever had.  It just sort of went out there, feeling its way around the kid in the room with him.  Not exactly 'like me' but sort of a comforting thing, sort of a mental... it was like when you made space for something.  It was as though when people were around they displaced some sort of psychic...

Stuff.

He hadn't learned this stuff yet.  He'd have to ask Fala, but maybe she didn't know either.

He shook his head at himself and went to the little open kitchen.  It was impeccably clean, much better than at home.  At least he didn't have to do that.  He'd heard about some Pilot who made his Candidates clean bathrooms or something but thus far he didn't need to worry about that.  Just about nuts amounts of schoolwork.  At least it was math.  Perch got math.  Math had basically one meaning, which was, math meaning. 773 would always be prime.  A differential would never have a meaning other than 'an infinitely small bit of something.'  It wasn't a sad bit, a happy bit, or an angry at you because you were psychic bit.

He took the milk out of the refrigerator, took a plastic cup from the cabinet, and put that and the protein powder in the glass.  Then he crossed from the kitchen back to the couch, stirring the drink mix.  His spoon clinked against the slides of the class.  He sat down opposite the other Candidate, still stirring.  He rested his elbows on his knees and leaned forward while he did so.

"So are you, uh, new?"  He looked new.  He also looked kind of scruffy.  How'd he get away with that?  Some guy had told Perch just the other day that he should cut his hair, let alone... be covered with paint.  "I'm new.  Third week.  I just got a mentor."

[Anonymous]

Haven definitely felt that psychic impulse but he didn't respond nor follow through with tempting to tap into the others emotions. Sometimes it could be taxing and he was already physically weak as it was. He just continued to smile friendly and watched the other wander away over to the kitchen area. Of course Haven continued to block anybody who may tempted to graze his mind out. He knew he couldn't fully protect himself from those much more experienced but at the moment out of all of his psychic abilities it was his best skill.

Haven was till learning. He liked to learn new things.

Haven was thus far thankful for finally receiving such a mentor as he has, better than some of the others he has heard. Interestingly enough prior to meeting Mr. Hamilton, he hadn't heard much about the Pilot Royal, at least nothing from any previous mentees. Bart also didn't have any other candidates under his care aside from Haven. Though the man was strict a bit on rules and so on, he was pretty lax compared to many other mentors. Plus his efforts to help Haven sleep were much appreciated. Still a struggle though.

Haven was one who liked to see beyond numbers and figures. He did relatively well in maths but he didn't like the whole black and white things. He loved shades in between, but maybe that was the artist in him. He had to so far rely mainly on his mind anyway to get as far as he had in this program. Academics were a breeze.

Haven stretched his skinny little body out and yawned for the...third time? Or was it fourth? Who's counting anyway? He rubbed his eyes like a little boy waking from a nap. Had to get the icky sleep boogies away from them. No one wants crusty lids and lashes. If they did they were even stranger than Haven Polaris. He looked over at the boy who had previously spoken to him as he settled just across the way. He smiled again and scratched his head. Just a habit, not even that itchy. He stared blinking a few minutes after the other spoke again and asked whether he was new. Finally he suddenly laughed out loud, well more like giggled.

When he finished he was settled in the corner of the sofa with elbow propped on the armrest and supporting his head. He picked at some lint from his sweater and said, "I just got a mentor too. Of course that's unusual for someone at stage two." All friendly smiles. "I'm Haven Polaris. Your name is?" That's the social norm right? State your name and ask for the other's.