Chapter 4

It was a week before Thanksgiving and I was ready to move on to the next step. Samantha now thought I was physically attractive and I hadn't even needed to condition her to find my body nice-looking. I guessed the exercise was working. But there was still no trace of a sexual attraction. Her feelings towards me were more or less brotherly. Just as with all the other steps, I had to be careful here as well. This was doubtless the most important aspect of the whole project and since it hadn't manifested itself on its own, I had to do this gradually.

I was walking home from the library trying to decide how to word my first set of commands when a long black limousine slowed and began pacing me. I looked over and the rear window slid down. A man, who appeared to be in his late fifties or early sixties, with thick salt and pepper hair and mustache peered out at me and, with the slightest hint of a British accent, he said,

"Would you like a ride, young man?"

Yeah ... right ... I would have thought I was getting a bit old for this sort of pedophile.

"I don't think so."

He chuckled, "I don't blame you for being suspicious, but I really do wish only to talk to you."

"Let me guess, you need help finding a lost puppy."

At that he laughed out loud.

"You know, you are not only smart like him, you look a lot like your father."

I stopped cold, so did the vehicle. If this guy knew my father, the questions that had plagued me my whole life might now be answered. Of course, I tried, but I couldn't get anything from his mind. The power was still frustratingly intermittent. I would have to find out the old fashioned way.

"You know my father? You know where he is?"

"It was over twenty five years ago that I approached him, just like I'm approaching you now." He said soberly, "So, yes, I knew your father. What happened was a real tragedy."

Tragedy? Shit. The way he used that word, the expression on his face and the tone of his voice gave me the distinct impression that whatever happened had been terribly final.

"You appear confused," he said, opening the door, "come, join me. I'll answer any questions you may have." He slid to the far side of the car.

I had to know. Not just what had happened to him - but everything about his life. My mother had always been so evasive when it came to information about my father. Here was someone willing to fill me in. I just hoped he wasn't bullshitting me. I got in and closed the door. He told the driver to take us to my house.

We sat in silence for a moment, and when I couldn't wait any longer for him to start, I asked, "What happened to my father?"

He slowly shook his head.

"No easy way about it. Your father was murdered."

An icy blade sliced through my soul. I had always dreamed of the day my father would return. He would have a good explanation of where he had been and we would become a family again. I would have my father back, but more important, my mother would be happy again. But now those fantasies were well and truly dead.

A hundred questions whirled through my brain.

"I'm sure you have a lot of questions. I'll tell you everything. But I have to know one thing first." He shifted slightly, facing me. "How long have you had your mental powers and what sorts of things can you do?"

About a hundred years later I noticed that he was grinning. It must have been because my mouth was hanging open.

"I'm sure it has only been recently given your lack of control. For God's sake boy, you are flailing about an incredible amount psychic energy."

"Who are you?" I asked.

"I could say that I'm from the government and I'm here to help, but no one ever believes it."

"That you're from the government?"

"No, that the government could be helpful."

"Are you?"

"Yes, I'm very helpful."

"No. I meant, are you from the government?"

"Oh, yes ... in a way."

"Are you going to take me away and do experiments on me?"

"Why on earth would we want to do that?" he asked looking puzzled.

"Well, because of the whole mental powers deal."

"We stopped doing experiments a long time ago. Why we haven't done a dissection in over a month." He noted my wide eyes. "That was a joke."

"Then what do you want from me?"

"It's more a question of what do you want from us. You see, we make it a point of contacting all new talents, that's what we call those of us with paranormal psychic abilities, anyway – we contact you and see how you are doing, offer any training you may desire and set you up with all the information you will need to contact us if you ever wish. It's all part and parcel of keeping such abilities a secret."

"You aren't going to try and turn me into some sort of 'super spy' or something?"

"Only if you want to. We have plenty of chaps who want to do things like that so why would we try and force someone into it? No, we will only get involved in your life to the extent that you do or do not want us to."

"So that's it? I get this remarkable ability, you show up from the government and its all, 'here ya go kid, call us if you need us, we expect nothing in return.' Well I may be young but even I know that the government doesn't operate that way."

He laughed freely at that and when he finally settled down there was a twinkle in his eye as he addressed me through a wide smile.

"You're pretty sharp, aren't you? Just like your old man. Look, the only thing we expect is that if there is ever a problem or fugitive in an area you are in, that you will cooperate fully with the agents sent to do the cover up and/or capture. The amount of assistance they will need varies from incident to incident, but you will never be asked to perform at a level you are not capable of. Fair enough?"

We had been parked in front of my house for several minutes by now and I didn't want my mother getting suspicious about the limo.

"Maybe I should be getting inside," I said attempting to sound casual, "how about I give you call in a week or so." I really wanted some time to think.

He glanced at the house, "What do you say I go in with you? I haven't seen your mother in many years; I'll bet she's still a hot piece of stuff, eh?"

I got out of the car and walked to the house with Philip in tow. We entered and my mother greeted me from the kitchen.

"Jake, honey, is that you?" She came out of the kitchen drying her hands with a dishtowel, "I've just finished some Rice Krispy Treats and..." she stopped when she got a good look at our visitor, a smile crept into her face and her eyes lit up, "Phillip? Phillip is that really you?"

"Ah, Maureen, you are as lovely as ever."

Mom rushed to him but instead of a passionate embrace they each held the other by the shoulders and traded chaste pecks on the cheeks.

"You old scoundrel," my mother teased, "you haven't been around in ages and I'm a bit irritated with you about that."

"But not so irritated that you didn't do the right thing I see."

They were still holding each other's shoulders, but now they were looking at me with amused looks on their faces.

"He's been at it for months; mostly it's been awfully clumsy. His commands have become very compelling nonetheless."

"Well the observational reports have all been positive and it seems the only thing he has done other than order you about, is to fight off a couple of hooligans." He then stopped talking 'about' me and began talking 'to' me. "That was nicely done, too. I know talents with far more experience than you who wouldn't have handled that with as much finesse or telekinetic skill."

They broke their loose embrace and he sat on the sofa.

"Maureen, if you would be so kind as to bring us some refreshments, Jake and I need to have a talk." Looking at me he indicated the love seat directly opposite him.

"I won't be but a minute." She hurried out of the room as I sat down.

"Did I hear you right?" I asked as soon as my mother was out of earshot. "Mom called you about me?"