Chapter 3: New Home

I had to stop thinking of "Martin". It was my body, my home. My life.

In this new life I was an only child. My parents were still at work when I arrived. I was alone for a while, and I took the opportunity to try spell-casting.

I went to my room and closed and locked the door. The bedroom lock wouldn't stop anybody determined to get in, but it would provide a notice of disturbance. More importantly, it would be a symbolic isolation from the rest of the world – very important in casting shielding spells. I also closed the curtains, increasing the sense of isolation even further. My memories told me that it wasn't unusual for me to lock myself in the room, even when my parents were present.

After stripping off my mostly dry clothes and still damp underwear I sat down on the floor cross-legged. I felt some strain; it was not a position that my new body used in sitting for long periods of time. Still, this was the position I was accustomed to use for spell-casting, so I would tolerate the discomfort.

I became aware of the slight creaking of the house and the distant hum of some machinery – probably the air conditioning compressor starting up. The air here was clean, with no traces of smoke. I could smell cloth, paper, and my own sweat. I dismissed the external inputs, breathing deeply and slowly. Silently, as I had been taught, I chanted to enter the Waking Dream of magic-working.

The shield against evil dreams is one of the first protections a sorcerer learns. I took a long time to sink into the trance, but I was not concerned. I needed to work to control my breathing and dreams to make the spells quicker, but there were no angry Akkadians at my door and so the extra time was not a problem. Finally, I felt the boundaries of my world become loose and I welcomed the flows of magical energy. I could now start the actual spell-casting.

The healing portion of the Spell of Disembodiment had worked well; without it I would have been dead from brain damage or drowning. But when I tried casting the shield using the newly summoned magic I felt incredibly weak. Whether my new body was not used to handling magic, or this world of the future lacked the magical energy, I could not tell.

I could feel my silent chant as it took hold of some magical energy and formed a loose screen around my spirit. But the shield felt as weak as rotten reeds. I didn't even try a shield against physical assaults – it required far more power. I clearly would need to practice in my new body.

Satisfied that I had at least some protection, I let myself close off the magical flows. My boundaries became firmer, and the world separated into me and not-me. I left the Waking Dream. The senses of the body impinged on my consciousness again, with my knees demanding a rest.

Done with the shield, I took a shower and put on new clothes. It was amazing to have so much fresh water available to everybody, even the poor. While I was delighting in clean water, I had a vague memory that even in this fantastic future water was sometimes in short supply. This area was experiencing a drought, and there was a restriction on washing cars. To me, a drought was when people and animals were dying of thirst and those who survived were facing famine because the harvests would be poor. This world was far more comfortable.

I went looking for the school materials. It was amusing to think that, despite all that separated my two lives, schoolwork remained. Of course, both my old body and this one were about the same age – sixteen, so perhaps not so surprising. The Spell of Disembodiment looked for similarities and age was one of them.

I found many textbooks. Whether due to the lost memories, or to my previous indifference to studies, the books were largely unfamiliar to me. Based on the crispness of the pages, and considering that it was almost the end of the school year, I suspected that I rarely opened the books.

I had to spend a few minutes admiring the books. I understood that they were very common, but the brightness and smoothness of paper, the delicate letters and pictures, and the flexible yet strong binding were a marvel to me. There were so many marvels around me, and yet my new memories told me that they were all commonplace, to be taken for granted. When I delved deeper for their explanation, I found that I had never known how these marvels were created, but that still caused no sense of wonder or mystery. There was almost a sense of contempt for trying to find out. Was there some penalty in this world for curiosity? I could not recall anything like that, so perhaps it was another damaged memory.

The mathematics was familiar to both sets of memories. The textbook went much further than my lessons from Master Hashemal, and yet I could understand these extensions. Rather than trying to solve homework problems I read for about an hour, trying to refresh my memory – both of them – on the subject. I stopped when I heard my mother come in, and I unlocked my door to meet her downstairs.

My mother was young. That was Leshada's judgment. Leshada's mother's face was misty in my split memories; I think she was dead long before I learned my first incantation. This woman had smooth skin, erect carriage and even teeth. I blinked. This was how all women looked at thirty-? Forty? I could not remember how old my mother was. Could I recall at least her birthday?

"Martin! Stop staring at me and help carry in the groceries!"

"Sorry, Mom."

I carried the bags in, peeking to see the kind of food we ate. Most of them invoked memories, especially a carton of ice cream. I looked forward to tasting that! After putting the bags on the counters and taking most of the items out, I looked in question at Mother. I knew that the ice cream was supposed to go into the freezer, which I did as soon as I got it into the kitchen, but I could not recall where the other items went.

Mother sighed. "Martin, you've lived here for sixteen years. How can you not remember how to put away the groceries?"

For a moment I thought my masquerade was uncovered. I did not look forward to explaining that her only son had died that day, and his body was now animated by a four-thousand-year-old spirit!

Luckily Mother's question was rhetorical. She directed me to put various things in the cabinets, while she herself unpacked the items going into the refrigerator. Such a wonderful invention, much better than all the preservation spells I used to practice!

I tried my best to memorize where various items were kept. Just because Mother didn't have high expectations this evening, didn't mean she wouldn't be surprised by my ignorance of some commonly-used food next time. I had ice cream covered, but I now learned the place to keep a dozen other things, from breakfast cereal, to the milk and bread that Mother put in the refrigerator, to dry pasta in the cupboards, and several places for fruits and vegetables. Some time tomorrow I would need to go through the drawers and cabinets to memorize the locations where other items were stored.

"Didn't you go on a trip today? It was the Art Museum, wasn't it?"

"It was interesting. I missed most of the stuff on Classical Greece, but I spent time in the Middle Eastern section. It's fascinating! I want to read up on it on the Web."

"Good. But first, do your homework. Have you started yet?"

"I've read the math textbook but have not started on the problems yet. I don't remember how many assignments are due tomorrow; I still need to check." I felt guilty, but with the memory damage, and my need for protection, I just didn't have the time.

"Just don't forget. Dad will be home in less than hour and we'll have dinner at half past seven. You can do some of it now." The last sentence was not a suggestion.

"Yes, Mother." That answer got a sharp look. I think I normally called her "Mom".

I searched, somewhat desperately, through the notebooks in my room. My handwriting was bad, and the notes anything but systematic. There was a vague memory that I had some geometry problems due tomorrow. I also thought there was a history assignment. I could not recollect actually taking these notes, and had no memory whatsoever about assignments due tomorrow. Or the day after. Or any other day.

After a few more minutes of panic I sat down on the floor again. My knees protested, but the calm I felt from the familiar position was worth it. Even without the breathing ritual I felt calmer. I enumerated the options. I could do the geometry problems, and leave others until tomorrow. If any others were in fact due tomorrow, I would have to take my punishment from the teachers and try to do better in the future. I vaguely recalled that I have done similar things in the past. That was good, because it wouldn't be completely out of character. It was also bad, because it meant that the teachers were probably not well disposed to my shortcomings.

I could try to find out the assignment due tomorrow from another student. I made a mental list of the subjects I was taking. Five of them could have homework assigned. I was fairly sure of Geometry. My friend Nick shared three others. I decided to start with him.

I found Nick's number in my cellphone. While it was ringing I was marveling at yet another invention of this age, and adding it to my list of things to look up. I was starting to worry about leaving him a message, when Nick answered.

"What's up, dude? Did you dry up after your little swim today?"

"Ha-ha. Yes, Nick, I am no longer all wet. Hey, my little dip made me forget all about homework, and my notes really suck. Do you know what we were supposed to do for tomorrow?"

"You don't want much, do you? I don't feel like thinking about homework, but I suppose I could look it up. What subject?"

"Humanities, Spanish and English, natch."

"You must be still wet – behind the ears that is. There is nothing on humanities, good old Samis will have a pop quiz on the museum visit. I suspect he's going to ask about the damn Greek columns. Hold on on the other two, I have to dig up my vocabulary notes. I really didn't want to think about them tonight."