A Fresh Start

A "Winds of Change" Story

By Bryan Derksen

After all the trials and tribulations, the pain and effort I had gone through in the past few days... the past few months... I was finally feeling relaxed and even a little bit content. After Brian's accident it was as if I had gone through a crucible; even though I had ultimately failed, huge knots of tension had been burned from my soul. Figuratively speaking, of course. I had been left feeling empty and wasted, but it was a good emptiness. It meant I could start again and perhaps have the chance to to better this time. And now, as if it was part of a plot in some sort of pompously literary epic book, I was going back to the beginning of my physical journey as well. I was going home.

I had made two calls before we left; one to Dr. Samuel and one to my father. Dr. Samuel and I chatted briefly about how things were going in Morrisville, and he informed me that there had been continuing slow but steady improvement among the less severely brainwashed using only conventional psychological techniques. I was glad; it meant I was less likely to be needed again, at least in the immediate future. I was also somehow pleased that there also hadn't been a huge improvement after I had left, it meant that my presence as the "dominant male" hadn't been holding everyone back for the past month. I wasn't sure whether that was a good thing or not.

My conversation with Dad was shorter, since I'd talked with him just before leaving Morrisville and I'd be arriving there in a few days anyways. Dad told me he'd missed me, was looking forward to seeing me and my friends, but that he hadn't been worried. Of course he hadn't, since I'd inadvertently suggested that he not be when I'd left home over a month ago. As much as I was glad he wasn't worried, it still bothered me deeply both that I'd done it and that it hadn't shown signs of wearing off. Once I was face to face with him again I could counteract it, but I wondered how long a suggestion would really last without contradicting stimuli...

To get my mind off of it, I started humming a Simon and Garfunkel tune. "Home, da da da da da da, Home, da da da dee dee da, silently for me..." I trailed off, realizing that those were all the lyrics I could remember. So I started humming the "Cheers" theme instead. I had somehow proceeded to humming the "Deep Space Nine" theme song by the time the gas station attendant hopped to the window and presented the bill. I paid him, and soon we were back on the road again.

Jack and I sat up front together in the jokingly-dubbed "ungulate section." We took turns driving, but we sat together primarily so that we could "talk". Jack had developed a lot of control over his power, and I very much wanted to learn that from him. He was happy to try teaching it to me, if only to reduce the telepathic noise I sometimes inadvertently put out. He was also interested in learning about my own power, and we spent a lot of time in silent conversation analyzing my experiences with it. Dr. Samuel and I had already come up with theories covering some of its aspects, and Jack seemed to agree with many of them, but in other areas only a true telepath could understand what was going on. And even then not always; Jack had no idea how Reimer and I had managed to pass a signal over 1500 miles between us, over the curvature of the Earth's surface. "Mind waves" apparently didn't reflect off of the ionosphere.

While Jack and I thought thoughts of psionics at each other, the three birds in the "avian section" behind us chatted about bird things. Jon in particular was eager to talk, not surprisingly, and since Brian and Kim took turns perched on the back of the seat in mute norm form to reduce the crowding they tended to go over everything twice. I listened with half an ear; It occurred to me that I was the only one of our original trio who'd remained the same old boring landbound animal/human hybrid that I'd become on the day of the Change. I wondered what it would be like to be a bird, of course, but I think I actually wondered about it less than I had before the Change. I guess my experiences had taught me to value a little stability when it came to what species I was.

I noticed that Brian tended to spend more time than Kim did in norm form, and at first I suspected it was due to the relative novelty of the experience. But I soon figured out that it also out of concern for Kim, since a normal eagle couldn't wear a seatbelt and Brian at least had a kinetic shield. I grinned in private amusement; it was probably a good thing Jon couldn't drive now, having someone that was immune to impact damage at the wheel didn't seem entirely reassuring to those of us who weren't. Not that I had a perfect driving record myself, I remembered, ruefully rubbing a horn. It was fortunate I at least had a built- in crash helmet.

"You're being pretty quiet up there, Bryan," Jon commented, snapping my attention back to the present. "Not getting the urge to start ramming things, I hope?"

I chuckled, realizing he couldn't possibly be referring to the accident I was thinking about. "Any more jokes like that and you're flying to Canada on your own," I countered. "Besides, it wouldn't be proper. This isn't a Dodge."

Jack emitted a sharp braying laugh. "You're almost as bad as Bob," he accused me. I grinned, though I 'pathed to him that I hadn't actually thought up the "Dodge Ram" pun myself. Now where had I first come across it...?

"So, what have you and Jack been talking about?" Kim asked.

"Oh, this and that" I replied nonchalantly, not wanting to talk openly about most of the subjects. Then I winced, my ears flicking back against my scalp as I realized I had slipped up anyway.

"Aha!" Kim exclaimed gleefully, turning to Jack. "I knew you were up to something, you two kept looking at each other like you were talking. What've you been saying to Bryan?"

Jack put on a ludicrously innocent expression. "Who, me?"

I sighed. Never mind, I sent, I might as well come clean about my power. She's the only one here who doesn't know, after all. Jack nodded understandingly. Kim immediately realized who he was 'listening' to and turned to face me expectantly. "I guess I might as well come clean," I repeated aloud. "I've got a power too."

"Telepathy?"

"Kind of. It's a little more specialized than Jack's." Kim was waiting for more of an explanation, and everyone else was waiting too, but I took a few moments to prepare myself. I had an excuse, I was driving.

"I'm basically limited to a form of, well... mind control," I said at last. "I can make people do stuff. Please, don't worry; I hate using it on people. I avoid it whenever I can. Jack and I were just talking about some of the theories that have been developed about the physics of telepathy. And it was mostly him sending and receiving the thoughts, not me."

"Sure, blame me why doncha'" Jack said with a grin, sounding mock-injured.

I grinned back. "I'm no good at mentally sending words or concepts" I explained, hoping I was maintaining a nice harmless impression for her; the look of fear I get when people discover I'm a mind controller really tears at me.

Fortunately Kim seemed more interested than afraid; she asked questions about how it worked and we tried to answer them in as abstract a fashion possible. I didn't reveal how easy it was to change a person's opinions with an offhand remark, how I could make someone think two plus two equalled five, and I didn't mention how hard it had been for me to repair the actions of a similar power up in Morrisville. Eventually she was satisfied, and promised not to tell anyone else about it.

I was left feeling a little drained and melancholy, however; perhaps Kim should be warned of what I was capable of. Despite Dr. Samuel's assurances of progress I worried about just how well the sheep of Morrisville were recovering. Had I pushed hard enough trying to deprogram them? I hadn't wanted to overcompensate and turn them into antisheep, that wouldn't have been right either, but on the other hand most of them were still remaining in town of their own 'free will'...

I wish I could tell where the mind ends, and instinct and compulsion begin, I thought to myself for the umpteenth time since I began treating them. The three tended to blend indistinguishably into each other, as if they were all aspects of the same thing.

You did your best, Jack sent sympathetically, and after your vacation we can try to do better. I flinched, not having expected him to overhear; I obviously still needed practice. "Exactly what sort of sheep are you, anyways?" he asked verbally, sensing my reaction and trying to change the subject.

"Rocky Mountain Bighorn," I said proudly. I guess I hadn't told him when we met, I'd been a little distracted...

"No you're not," Jack objected. "Aren't Bighorns sort of brown colored?"

"Yeah, I think I've got a little other sheep DNA mixed in. But I'm primarily Bighorn." The others nodded in agreement.

But Jack frowned. You're leaking, he warned me.

My blood suddenly ran cold as I glanced around again at everyone's agreeable expressions. Shit! Oops! Uh... I'd have to deal with this carefully; the last thing I wanted was for Kim to find out I'd slipped up so soon after telling her of my power and managing to avoid that momentary look of fear.

My mind was racing as I tried thinking back to every time since the Change that I had told someone my phenotype. My god, was it possible I had been leaking every time? I didn't believe it. On the other hand I didn't really need to suggest something like that very strongly, most people wouldn't know a Bighorn Sheep from a mountain goat if it bit them on the ass... Now there was an odd image...

I didn't really believe it, but at last I carefully said "It may be that I am in error. Assuming for the moment that I'm not just a bighorn with a pigmentation deficiency, what sort of sheep do I most closely resemble?"

"Dall," Brian answered immediately. "Your horns are curled closer to the sides of your skull than normal, but that could just be due to anthropomorphism. Otherwise you're a spitting image." Jack nodded slightly, perhaps agreeing with his assessment or simply indicating that it wasn't externally influenced. Either way, I felt an odd sinking feeling.

"I'm a Dall Sheep," I said slowly. "Not a Bighorn." My shoulders started quivering.

"Dall's Sheep are a kind of Bighorn," Brian tried to reassure me, eyeing the road nervously. "They're also called the Alaskan Bighorn or White Bighorn, so they're probably in the same genus at least. Maybe they're even just subspecies of Bighorn."

But I was shaking from suppressed laughter, and at Brian's discomfort it started forcing its way past my throat. "Looks like I've been zapped by the phenotype fairy anyways, despite my best efforts," I managed to squeeze out at last. "Who's next on the transformation hit list?" God, it felt good to laugh at this!

But it was also a perfect example of the world I lived in thanks to my power; when someone agreed with me, I could never be sure whether it was because what I had said actually had merit or whether it was due to an unconscious slip-up. I glanced again at Jack. I hoped he'd really be able to teach me the control I needed.

Copyright 1997, Bryan Derksen

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