Chapter 54: Living Life

It was a couple of hours later when Mary and Amanda emerged from the bedroom. I had felt them through the bond having fun with Marcia. They enjoyed themselves and I assumed that she did too. Mary went into the kitchen and started making coffee. Amanda came and sat beside me on my left and Jules stayed on my right side. Ness was still in my lap. We’d been chatting and half watching the television while they’d been ‘entertaining’ Marcia. Jules would have preferred to have been working in her workshop but that was not going to be possible for a few more days.

Marcia emerged from the bedroom, dressed once again in the sweats and T-Shirt I’d loaned her. She looked like she’d had a shower. She caught my eye and blushed. I grinned at her.

“Have fun?” I asked.

She came into the room and sat as Mary handed her a coffee, before handing the one in her other hand to me. She went back into the kitchen to get some more.

“They nearly killed me,” Marcia said.

“Next time,” Amanda said, “invite Caleb. Then you’ll really have fun.”

Marcia looked at me. I still didn’t feel any arousal from her, but I did feel a little curiosity. I had pegged her as gay, with no interest at all in men, but it appeared that Amanda had been working on her. I shouldn’t have been surprised.

“So,” I said changing the subject. “What’s the plan for tomorrow?”

Marcia seemed grateful for the change of topic. “I need to put the services in place,” she said. “I need to run hot and cold water, power, drainage, and extraction. Since you didn’t want the window that makes it easier. We should really look at your hot water system, too, to make sure it can supply all the showers at the same time. I think it will be good but it’s worth checking out. Since I’m here anyway I’ll service that for you, no extra charge. I’ll bet you haven’t had it done in a while.”

“I have class in the morning,” I said, “and some appointments in the afternoon. So, I’m not going to be here until probably about three.”

“I’ll try and avoid pining away,” she grinned at me.

I stuck my tongue out at her and she laughed. “Very mature.” I shrugged, then stood up.

“I’m going to bed,” I said. “Am I going to be sleeping on a wet patch?”

“We changed the bed,” said Mary. “So, no.”

“Cool,” I said. “Night, all.” I turned to Marcia. “I’ll see you in the morning? Breakfast at eight?”

She nodded. “See you in the morning, boss,” she said.

I shook my head as I went into the bedroom. The bed had indeed been changed but there was still the scent of sex in the air. I went and showered.

When I returned to the bedroom Mary was waiting for me in the bed.

“Hey,” I said.

She smiled at me and held out her arms. I joined her on the bed, and she snuggled into me.

“Are you ok?” she asked.

I looked down at her. “Fine,” I said a little surprised at the question. “Why?”

“I just wanted to make sure that what we did tonight didn’t upset you,” she said gazing up at me, her leonine eyes glinting in the low light.

“Not at all,” I said. “I knew that Marcia wasn’t particularly interested in me in any case.”

“I think she might be,” said Mary thoughtfully. “She’s no virgin, but her one experience with a guy wasn’t exactly a good one. She likes to dominate, although Amanda was too much for her to handle.”

I grinned at her. “That doesn’t surprise me. So, who wore the belt?”

Mary grinned. “Marcia did for a while. But it was dirty and getting the sheets gritty, so we ditched it.”

“It’s a shame,” I replied, “that sometimes fantasies sometimes don’t work.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” she said. “It did its job.”

I laughed. “I’m glad you had a good time.”

“I was going to ask her to stay the night,” she said. “But we didn’t really have the chance to discuss it first.”

“Wouldn’t have bothered me,” I replied. “But it would have been a bit unfair to spring it on Jules and Ness without warning.”

She nodded. “That’s what we thought,” she agreed. “We could have asked through the connection, but that wouldn’t have given a lot of time for discussion. Maybe another night?”

“Is she that good?” I asked and she smiled.

“She’s nice.”

“Well like I said,” I repeated, “it’s fine with me as long as Jules and Ness are happy with it.”

She smiled and laid her head on my chest, holding me, and enveloping me in feelings of love as I drifted off to sleep.

Four a.m. rolled around with remarkable alacrity, and I slipped out of bed almost before I was fully awake.

I decided to go for a run this morning. I’d done a little research on the internet about joining the FBI, and I knew that there was quite a stringent fitness test to pass. I would have to start training with that in mind. It was a while away, but the sooner I started to train for it the better. I was happy enough with my general level of fitness, but I hadn’t really been training my upper body much and from what I’d read three of the tests were sit-ups, pull-ups and push-ups. Granted, I could make my life far easier using TK, but that would be a backup plan. I needed to be fit.

I also didn’t know what my entry process would be to the FBI. I’d been kind of assuming that I would walk-in on account of my powers but I also knew that there were thousands, if not tens of thousands, of applicants every year. I would be taking one of their slots, so I wanted to deserve it.

Marcia arrived on time and, after breakfast, we all separated to start our days.

Our ethics professor outdid himself with his spying.

“Today,” he said, “we are going to discuss something that has been in the news a lot recently. Normally, I am content to let you voice whatever opinions you see fit to, but although I do encourage you to express opinions, I want you to think very carefully about HOW you express those opinions. This is an emotive topic so let’s keep our thoughts on the arguments and not allow the debate to degenerate into personal attacks and insults toward each other. If I determine that any of you are indulging in discriminatory behaviour. toward one of your fellow students on the grounds of their opinions on this matter, you will be asked to leave, and you WILL fail this class for the semester.”

We all looked at him, wondering exactly what we would be debating that required such a warning at the beginning of the class.

“Gender identity,” he continued, “is a personal thing. Gone, and good riddance to them, are the days when a person’s gender was wholly denoted by their biological sex. Part of the problem is that some still cannot differentiate between what I consider the three parts of a person’s sexual identity. MY opinion is that those are; firstly the sex of that person – and by that I mean their genetic or biological sex. Normally male or female, but there are some born neither or both. Then there is their gender identity. Does that person identify as a male or a female, or neither, or aspects of both, or something else entirely, irrespective of their biology? Finally, there is that person’s sexuality. I personally see that as who that person is sexually attracted to. Again, that could be anything from nobody at all in the case of asexual persons, or at the other end of the scale, if you will, pansexual people who are more interested in the individual rather than their specific biology or gender identity. I am not going to entertain any discussions on those whose attractions lie outside our own species.

“If we each lived in a bubble, with no interaction with anyone else, then this would not cause the friction that it does, but we do not. We interact with people on a daily basis. Let’s examine one particular group of people that seem to be in the news recently, and they are trans women.

“For clarity, I am going to define trans women as people who were born biologically male, but feel themselves to be female. They may or may not still have male characteristics, male genitalia, or these may have been suppressed or removed by various methods, including surgery.

“There has been a lot of discussion in the media as to whether trans women should be allowed to use female only facilities, access female medical services, participate against females in sporting events. There was also an uproar in the media when Laura Finke, a trans woman, was awarded ‘Woman of the year’ by USA today.

“I want you to discuss the ethics of this, the possible conflicts between the rights of the individual, i.e. the trans person, and the rights of the populace as a whole. Do they conflict? And if so how can that conflict be resolved.

“Remember – keep it on topic and keep it civil.”

I shared a glance with Dana as people started to talk. It was obvious at first that people were trying to be politically correct, but equally obvious that others were becoming upset with some of the views put forward.

Needless to say, it was one of the kumbaya crowd that opened the debate.

“People should be allowed to be whoever they want to be,” he began. “If a person feels that they are female, then that should be all that matters. They should be able to do everything a woman can do.”

“There was a case in the news recently,” someone else rebutted, “where an OB/GYN was sued by a trans woman for refusing to do a pap smear test. How does that make sense since he ... sorry she didn’t even have the requisite parts?”

“That’s not quite accurate,” I replied. “She wasn’t refused a smear. Rather, she was refused treatment because the clinic said that they didn’t accept trans patients. That’s very different. Having said that though can you really cite that? The woman in question is a Trans Activist whom, I believe, does more to harm than help the cause. If I remember correctly, she also tried to sue a waxing salon for refusing to wax her male genitalia. They said they were not trained to do it, and the courts agreed.

“What I found more disturbing is that a trans woman was refused medical screening, a prostate cancer check I believe because, despite her having a prostate, she was registered as a woman, and therefore they would only do a PAP smear. Surely that shows that we, as a society, are still institutionally biased against trans people, because our computer systems cannot deal with a woman who may have more complex needs like that.”

The professor looked at me, eyebrow raised. Dana spoke.

“All people have rights,” she said, “and trans people have to have the right to be who they want to be. There has to be some application of common sense too though. I can understand how some women would be uncomfortable having someone with male genitalia in a communal changing area, for instance. It’s a space where people feel vulnerable to start with.”

“Now you’re just being prejudiced,” said kumbaya number 2. “I wouldn’t be bothered if a trans woman came into my changing room.”

“Don’t you think,” I interjected, seeing Dana’s half smile at being accused of trans prejudice, “that an easier solution would be to make all changing rooms, and bathrooms, gender neutral. Have secure stalls where people can go to do whatever it is they need to do, without being exposed to other people? The fact that it doesn’t bother you is almost immaterial because, again, you are an individual. We know that there are enough people that ARE bothered by it for it to be an issue, or else why would we be even talking about it?”

“Does that,” asked the professor, “actually answer the question? Or, is it merely a solution to a problem which circumvents the issue? I agree that we can create communal ‘safe’ spaces, but let’s return to the original question.”

“An individual’s rights cannot supersede the rights of the majority,” said someone from the back of the class. “The needs of the many, outweigh the needs of the few.”

“Thank you, Mr. Spock,” said the professor. “Trite as the argument is, and I wonder how long Mr. Slade has been waiting to use that particular gem, it does have some merit. Can the rights of the individual ever supersede those of the majority?”

“Obviously, yes,” said another student from the other side of the classroom.

“Justify,” said the professor. “Examples?”

She thought for a minute.

“A plane crashes in a remote location,” she began, and the professor smiled.

“Yes,” he said. “You are going to say that the rights of the injured survivor not to be killed and eaten by the others supersedes their rights to life. But, in actual fact, do they? Do the math. One person dies, and six live, or all die including the injured survivor. Do, in this case, the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few, or the one?

“Again, I don’t want to get sidetracked into that particular debate. However, there is validity to your argument. But we’re not talking about life-or-death situations here. We’re talking about sharing a changing room or competing in sports. Are there any circumstances in such cases where an individual’s rights outweigh those of the masses?”

“It’s not about rights,” I said. “It’s about attitudes.”

“Explain,” he said.

“Some women say,” I said, “that they feel threatened by having a trans person in the changing room. It is not their right to have sole personal access to that space, however it is their right not to feel threatened or uncomfortable that they are citing. So, logically, if they didn’t feel threatened by the trans person then their rights wouldn’t be impinged.

“There are good and bad people of all genders. There are plenty of guys who I would be very uncomfortable around in such a space, but excluding them on the grounds that they make me feel uncomfortable is not an option. Since that is the case, then why is it in the case of a trans woman? When feelings overrule rights, as they seem to be doing more and more recently, that is when we run into trouble.

“It is not that long ago,” I finished, “that white folk were ‘uncomfortable’ sharing their space with black folk. We now see not only the complete ridiculousness of that, but also its disgusting and prejudicial nature. How can we not see that this is exactly the same?”

An hour later as we were walking out of the classroom Dana caught up with me, slipping her arm through mine.

I looked down at her and smiled.

“Interesting debate,” I commented. “Although,” I added with a grin, “I never knew you were transphobic.”

She laughed. Then here face became a little more serious.

“Thank you,” she said. I stopped walking.

“What for?” I asked.

“For being you,” she said. “While we didn’t agree on the issue of trans people in sport, you at least argued your case with reason. There wasn’t, isn’t, an ounce of prejudice in you.”

“I just don’t think it’s fair,” I said. “But let’s not rehash.”

She smiled. “Lunch?” she asked, and I agreed.

We met up with the rest of the girls in the cafeteria and ate lunch. Afterwards, I went off to my hypnotherapy appointments.

They were both students, and both on-campus, in my office near the library.

I had spent some time considering taking knowledge from all of my clients, but decided for now to just look and see what was available. I would concentrate, for the moment, on languages. If anyone was from overseas and had a native language that wasn’t English, Spanish, or Cantonese, I’d grab that. I figured there was little point in cramming my head full of extraneous knowledge. If I needed to in the future, I could always find a way to get it but languages are always useful. The more I knew the better it would be. I also wasn’t going to tell people what I’d learned, not even my girls. As Tatarabuela Gonzales said, they were a potential weakness. I had no idea how them knowing I could speak Chinese would be a weakness, but better to establish good habits now.

My first client was from Michigan. She, and her friend, were both smokers and they had come in the hopes of getting a two for one deal. When I explained that one of them needed to be conscious to chaperone the other, they were disappointed. I did promise the second a reduced rate though.

They were both, ironically, Applied Health and Fitness majors so stopping smoking was probably a good thing for them to do. I sent them on their way an hour later, having just finished reading the first of my textbooks. Time well spent as far as I was concerned.

My second client was a Chemistry major. He was quite significantly overweight and wanted to lose about a third of his body mass. I got him set up and, after I’d planted all my compulsions, decided to see if there was any knowledge he had that I could use.

He didn’t know any languages, other than English, and he was two years into his studies so his knowledge of chemistry wasn’t stellar. I was about to pull back when I noticed a little gem of knowledge: how to make Crystal Meth.

He was the cliché. He’d literally watched the series Breaking Bad and decided that was how he was going to pay his way through the remainder of school. He’d been struggling financially thus far and, as yet, had not actually made any drugs. He’d stolen a good amount of equipment he needed from the chemistry lab, and what he couldn’t steal he’d bought from pawnshops and online. He had it all stacked up in his dorm room, ready to go, when he found somewhere to set up.

I wondered what to do about this. I could simply Compel him to stop and to put all the stuff he’d stolen back and get rid of the rest. I cursed. Despite what the judge had said, I didn’t know I wasn’t being monitored, or that this might not come back to bite me in the ass later down the line. I sighed and picked up my phone. So much for patient confidentiality.

“ADD Forbes,” I said.

“What’s with the formality all of a sudden,” she asked.

“It was Judge Roder’s suggestion,” I replied, “that when it’s business we keep it business, that way when I find out you’ve been manipulating me again, it’s nothing personal.”

She laughed. “That won’t stop you taking it personally,” she said, “but hey, I’ll bite. So, Mr. Stott, what can I do you for?”

I explained the situation. The line went silent for a few moments before she spoke.

“I’m going to tip off campus security,” she said, “that we have, ourselves, had a tip about someone gathering equipment for a meth lab. It’s not worth our involvement, but if they raid his dorm and find all the stolen gear, that should put an end to his plans.”

“And his college career,” I said, “and his life.”

“Think Caleb,” she said. “Take it to its conclusion. Let’s say he gets everything he needs, what happens next? He either kills himself trying to cook meth. Meth labs are notoriously dangerous places. Or he ends up getting killed by a rival drug dealer whose turf he’s encroaching on. And even if none of that happens, he’s peddling death to college kids. He deserves everything he gets.”

I sighed, accepting what she said. “I guess,” I said.

“Leave it with me,” she said. “And Caleb?”

“Yes?” I responded.

“You did the right thing,” she assured me. “You have undoubtedly saved someone’s life here, probably his.”

I nodded, even though she couldn’t see me. “When you get a few minutes, I wanted to pick your brain. Nothing urgent but just information I need.”

“I’ll pop by one evening,” she said, “for dinner?” she added hopefully. I laughed.

“You know you’re always welcome, Granny.” It was her turn to laugh.

“I’ll text you,” she said. We said our goodbyes and hung up. I turned my attention back to my would-be drug dealer.

I released him from his ‘trance’ and let him go. He was the second person to not bring a chaperone. I guess they thought they were not needed since they were guys. I wondered if I should tell Mary to insist and that I would not go ahead if they did not in future.

I headed home still feeling somewhat guilty, but determined not to let it get to me. I needed to be able to make those kinds of calls, and then stick by my decisions. If I second guessed myself every time I made a choice, I’d go insane.

On a whim, I decided to drive to the airport, and look into using the flying lessons that I’d been given. I would see if I could book lessons in the evening, and also find out exactly what else I needed to do to get my license.

I pulled into the parking lot of the flying school and went into the office. It was empty aside from a teenager, who looked to be about sixteen. He was playing a game on his phone and looked up as I entered.

“Hi,” he said.

“Hello,” I said.

“Can I help you?” he asked. I heard from his thoughts he fully expected me to ask to speak to an adult. I decided to throw him a loop.

“I’m looking to take flying lessons,” I said. “I’m hoping you can tell me what I need, and how to go about it?”

He grinned at me. “Sure,” he said. He tapped the screen of his phone a couple of times and then pocketed it.

“Have a seat,” he said indicating the chair opposite him.

I sat.

“First of all,” he said, “there is some paperwork to do. Although there is some leeway as to the timing, most of it only needs to be done before you fly solo. You need a medical certificate, and a student pilot certificate, before you are allowed up alone. You could go up right now without any of those though. Some say that it’s not worth starting training until you have your medical certificate at least, just in case there are any surprises in the medical, but most people know if they have a problem that’s going to ground them.”

He reached over to where a stack of folders was sitting on the desk and took one, handing it to me.

“Here are the instructions of how to get all the paperwork you need,” he said. “There is also a list of AME’s in there. You only need a class three medical unless you are thinking about flying commercially and it will last you five years. Unless you’re over forty?” He grinned at me.

“I’ve got a few years to go before then,” I said. “But I think I might get there just before you hit puberty.” I grinned back at him.

He laughed and held his hand out. “Arnie Jarrett,” he said. “My dad owns the school, and I’m seventeen.”

“Caleb Stott,” I returned. “My Fiancées bought me the lessons for my twenty first birthday.”

“Fiancées?” he asked. I grinned at him.

“Long story,” I said. “So, when can I start to learn?”

“Everything you need to know is in the pack,” he said indicating the folder. “What books you need to buy, learning about navigation, communication, flight rules and reg’s, weather, is all in there. You could book an assessment lesson to start. You need at least forty hours of flight time to get your license, that includes twenty hours instruction, ten hours solo, three hours cross country, three hours night flight, and three hours of instrument time. There may be other requirements depending on what you want to do after that.”

I nodded. “Perfect. Thanks,” I said. “I was hoping to book some lessons on a Monday evening. Would that be possible?”

“Sure,” he said. “Most people want to learn at the weekend so Monday is a quiet day for us. How many hours? Bear in mind that to get an hour of flight time, it usually takes about twice that. There will be time briefing the flight, checking or pre-flighting the aircraft, and then the debrief at the end. If you book a three-hour lesson, you will get two hours flight time, and so on.

“There are also navigation and radio qualifications to get. Again, the information is in the pack. We can certify you on those if you need. There are also other courses you can take. It’s up to you.”

“Okay,” I said. “How about I book a couple of hours for an assessment lesson next Monday?” I said, “I assume that will count toward my forty hours?”

“It will,” he said.

I filled out some forms for him and showed him my drivers license, which he took a scan of. And then I was done, leaving the school with an appointment for the next Monday at five.

When I arrived home, just after four, I found Marcia in Jules’ workshop behind the dust sheet. She’d hung the sheetrock, taped it, and was mudding it.

“I thought I’d get this done first,” she said. “Amanda said Jules spends most of her evenings in here, so hopefully I can sand and paint tomorrow and she can have it back at the weekend.”

“Nice,” I said appreciative of the thoughtfulness. “How far did you get with the services?”

“They’re all in.” she said. “I need to sheetrock the other walls, repair the ceilings where the old walls were, tape, mud, sand, and paint, which will take the rest of this week, and all next week. Then I’ll lay the floor in the middle room, sand and stain it, which will take a couple of days, then I’ll start fitting the bathrooms. That’s fairly quick. It’s tiling the floors and the back of the shower cubicles that’s going to take the time. I’m confident of finishing on time, although it might mean a few later nights.”

“I’m sure the twins won’t mind you staying late sometimes,” I said. She grinned at me.

“I mean working,” she said.

“So did I,” I said looking innocent. She just carried on with what she was doing, applying the mud in smooth even strokes. She finished the wall and put down her tools.

“Right,” she said. “That needs to dry. “What time is it?”

“Just after four,” I said.

“Okay,” she said. “I can probably get a few more sheets of sheetrock up before calling it a night.”

“You want a hand?” I asked. She shook her head. “No point in you getting all dirty just for this. I’ll get it done.”

“You going to eat with us tonight?” I asked. She shook her head again.

“I have things to do,” she said. “I need to be gone by five thirty latest.”

“I’d better let you get back to work,” I said. “You want coffee?”

She smiled and nodded. “Yes, please.”

I made us both coffee and took hers into her. She’d moved into one of the other rooms and was busy screwing a sheet of sheetrock on to the frame, holding it in place with her TK. I waited until she finished before handing her a cup, which she took gratefully.

I took my coffee out onto the deck and began to look through the pack I’d got from Arnie. It seemed like there was a lot to do. I could probably just book the assessments for navigation and communications right away. If I didn’t already know it, I’d want to know why.

I also needed to arrange a medical. I checked the list of FAA Aviation Medical Examiners and found one not too far away. I picked up my phone and made an appointment for Friday afternoon. It would be good to get everything out of the way. After some investigation I filled on the online form and paid the fee. It would take up to three weeks for my student pilot certificate to arrive, but I wasn’t going to need it for a little while.

The girls all arrived home just as I was finishing up.

Maggie texted me the next day.

_Is tonight okay?

_Perfect. We eat about six on a Thursday.

_See you then.

I informed the girls that Maggie was coming over for dinner.

She arrived at the house pretty much at the same time as I did, parking her car on the road just past our driveway. She knew that with everyone living at the house both the drive and garage were full. Marcia’s truck was also parked on the road.

“Having some work done?” she asked.

“Getting some ensuite’s put in in the spare rooms,” I said while letting us both into the house.

I could hear Marcia working in one of the rooms so went in to tell her I was home. Things were coming along.

While I was talking to Marcia, the rest of the gang arrived home, and Mary was in the kitchen making coffee for everyone when I emerged.

Maggie and I took ours out on the deck.

“I wanted to ask,” I said as we settled onto the chairs out there, “about the process for applying for the FBI.” I went on to tell her what I’d read online, but since their entry age was 23 and I would only just be 22 when I graduated, would I have to wait a year, or would that not be a problem? If it wasn’t a problem, what else wouldn’t be a problem?

“Your powers,” she said, “make you pretty much a shoe in. We, the ADD’s and above, can ‘sponsor’ candidates into the bureau, and you’d have to be pretty much rubbish not to get in with one of our sponsorships. Having said that, aside from your age, I would expect that you will pass all the other criteria. You will have to take a polygraph, but we already know you will pass it. Since we cannot legally insist on reading the minds of Norms, without a warrant, we cannot insist you drop your shields to be examined by us either.”

“And would I go to Quantico?” I asked.

“Yes,” she said. “It’s important that you receive the same training as the other agents. That way you know what to expect from them, even though they won’t have a clue what to expect from you. Normally when a power user goes through the training, we do not tell the academy nor the other trainees. Only the senior staff at the academy know. The reason for this will become clear when it happens. I don’t want to spoil the surprise for you.