The Current-Part I

Wrote a novel, sort of, and it was awful. Attempted to rewrite it as a series of short stories, but am not sure how its coming along.

The feeling of cold, hard steel smacked his temple as spots swam before his eyes. John’s natural reaction was one of fear, but due to the early hour grogginess and confusion was all he could muster.

“The hell?” He sat up fast, spinning on the bed before entangling himself in the sheets and falling off the side of the bed.

A low groan emanated from the tall man in the doorway. “Damn it, John!” John’s father, a man of 50 years stood holding onto the doorframe. His silver hair was neatly combed back, wet with product. Behind wire-rimmed glasses sat two gray eyes, giving him the appearance of being incredibly wise even before he confirmed it by speaking. Cold, calculating, and potent aim; all are terms to describe Ray Samson.

A messy cropping of hair was now visible from the other side of the bed. Moments later, John’s face appeared. A nasty red mark was already visible with a hard lump sure to follow. “What time is it?” Late enough to get smacked in the face, John thought. Only, he wasn’t dumb enough to actually say it aloud.

“You have twenty-five minutes to make it to school. I’d suggest you get started.” Mr. Samson turned and clopped down the stairs, bringing an old creaking to the entire house as he came to the foyer only to shake the very foundation when he slammed the door.

Using the bed to lift himself, John climbed to his feet. He thought himself lucky; his dad normally would have flipped the mattress. It was nice to not have to make the whole bed this morning. John turned on the shower, letting it gradually warm up. While waiting he grabbed an old polo and set out his blazer and Dockers. By the door sat his blue canvas Chuck Taylors. Once satisfied, he jumped in the shower enjoying the warmth and allowing it to quickly awaken his senses.

Once satisfied with his body’s cleanliness, John turned the water cold. After a short, girlish scream he began to brush his teeth. Ninety seconds later he was towel-drying himself off. Using his hand to cover his eyes, he got dressed clumsily. A quirk, but John was weirded out by the idea of seeing himself naked. How he would ever get with a girl, he didn’t know. But, he hoped it would work itself out soon enough.

Five minutes later John was running down the stairs, lugging his hefty backpack onto his shoulders. He slowed down only momentarily as he hit the foyer. Grabbing his keys from the table by the door he glanced at the picture on the wall. “Bye, Mom.” With a small smile, John grabbed the brass doorknob and left the house.

Within two minutes he was in his car, speeding his way to school.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Seven fifty-two and John swung into the South lot at Kennedy High School, getting the last parking space by only ten feet. Glancing at his reflection in the visor mirror, he ran a hand through his hair.

Kennedy High School was designed like a prison. With only ten percent of the classrooms in the school possessing windows, it was a fair call to say that prisoners had more chances to see the outdoors than the students there. Within the southern entrance, John held his breath to keep out the noxious warm chlorinated smell of the pool.

Five tones resembling the alarm of an open car door sounded. “S**t!” John said as he began to run toward the main wing of the school. Sliding on the dirty speckle-tiled floor, John fell only twice, a personal best. As he turned the final corner that led to the foyer he saw Dr. Garrity, the principal, talking to a parent. The man was taller than John, at least six foot and was dark-skinned with a hue resembling that of caramel. For a full second, the caramel-skinned man looked at John, his dark brown eyes seemingly searching his face.

John made it into the foyer and ran up the stairs, glad that his locker was right across from them. He hurriedly entered his combination, swearing at himself for missing the first number twice. With a dramatic click, the lock disengaged and John tossed in his backpack. There was an assortment of colorful, thick textbooks on his top shelf. Instead of referring to them by topic, John and every other student knew them by color. For first period, he needed the dark gray book.

“Of course, you f****r. Gotta be on the bottom.” John gritted his teeth as he struggled to lift the four heavy books from on top of the book he needed. Struggling, he growled and by some strange animalistic feat of strength he freed the book. The bell sounded again.

Footsteps clacked through the empty foyer. Slow and carefully weighted, they could only belong to Dr. Garrity. Pulling a notebook and folder from his backpack which was awkwardly wedged into the bottom of the narrow locker, John shut his locker and turned to face Dr. Garrity. Only, today he wasn’t alone.

“John!” A big smile crossed the principal’s face giving the impression of friendliness and caring as he reached the top of the steps. “I hope that Dr. Jacoby won’t mind you being late.”

“Yeah, I should probably head there right now.”

Dr. Garrity held up one of his enormously large hands. “Whoa, I’m actually going to take you for a minute.” He wiggled his eyebrows, “Excused tardy for a change?”

His beating heart slowed when Dr. Garrity said that. John already had six tardies this year in Jacoby’s class and if you reached nine you got kicked out of the course. Wearily, John asked him, “What do you have in mind?”

More footsteps became audible. They were climbing the stairs, but completely opposite from the heavy gait of Dr. Garrity. The gentle soft thud of each foot told John that the steps belonged to a girl. Given the unsteady pace, he’d guess she was new.

“John, I’d like for you to meet Arianna Letat. If I remember your arrival habits correctly, I’d infer that you saw me speaking with her father this morning.” Dr. Garrity turned and raised a palm in the direction of the stairs.

Rising from the middle landing, the obvious daughter of the man John had seen speaking with Dr. Garrity came into view. With her soft black hair that caught the light with every tentative step, John was unable to look away. The caramel-colored skin was mildly darker than that of her father but it contained a soft glow, radiating beauty and warmth.

“Arianna? Did your discussion go well with Ms. Williams?”

Arianna’s cheeks flushed as she nodded. “Yeah, I’ve my schedule completed. They were out of maps, though. So I’m not too sure where to go.”

“Of course,” Dr. Garrity reached back and grabbed John’s shoulder, pulling his forward. “Since you were in the IB program at your last school, we were able to transfer you into the same classes. I’m afraid we couldn’t keep the order the same, but nonetheless the subject matter should be familiar. This is John. You’re in the same classes as he is by design.”

That struck John as a little awkward. It was well known that his lack of sociability was legendary, but if this was some sick prank to get him to change, he was going to be pissed. “What design? Why the design?”

Facing Arianna, the principal explained. “Moving can be difficult, I was an Army brat when I was growing up; nine schools in twelve years, so I can understand your predicament. John here, is easily our brightest student and in the final year of IB study so I figured if you two knew each other it might both of your situations.” His voice trailed off as he studied their reactions.

At sixty-two, Dr. Alan Garrity had been a principal for more than two decades. He’d seen everything. What John and Arianna had experienced was tragic, replacing a parent was difficult. He’d seen a number of students go into a dangerous tailspin from which most didn’t recover from. Dr. Garrity would be damned if two of the brightest students he’d ever seen would end up following the same path. Besides, from the chemistry he sensed this might be what it took to get John out of his shell.

He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a pad of small pink slips. Scribbling on the first pass, Dr. Garrity asked John to keep an eye on Arianna. “She’s important. Take these and offer Dr. Jacoby my apologies for keeping you. After all, if I remember the syllabus…” He paused as he concentrated. “…Yeah, you should be studying religions and the like. That’s his favorite subject. Good day.” With that, and heavy footfalls, Dr. Garrity left John and Arianna standing awkwardly at the top of the stairs.

His mouth dry, John tried and failed to swallow. “Um, we should probably, uh, yeah.” John shook his head and descended the stairs. He stopped on the landing in front of the IMC and turned to look up the stairs. “You coming?”

Arianna rolled her eyes. “Yeah, I’m coming.” She came down the steps to meet him and they walked together down the last flight of stairs.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Nervously, John tried his best to lead them to Jacoby’s classroom. Twice he had to stop and glance to his right to see if she was still there. As they entered the new section of the wing, John’s nerves eased. A slightly nasal resonant voice was coming from the last door on the right. “Right there,” John pointed to the sun-filled door. As he came to the frame he knocked on the thin steel. “Hey, Dr. J!”

Perched on the top of the big, overly burnished wood desk was a small older man. Dr. Jacoby was nearing seventy and had been teaching since the opening of the school in the fall of 1967. Forty-five years in the same industry was abnormal but in the same location, was legendary. The dulling gray hair stuck up in all directions, looking alive. Behind thick horn-rimmed glasses were eyes of nearly the same color possessing the same wildness. “Mr. Samson!”

His eyes flitted to behind John as Arianna meekly entered the door. The ten other students in the Anthropology course were looking at her merely out of habit, not curiosity.

“Who might this be?”

John stuttered. “Uh, well, um this is-“

“I’m Arianna Letat. Although, I’m thinking you knew that.” Arianna’s shyness seemed to melt away at the sight of Johns’.

A smile on his face, Jacoby nodded. “I was aware you were joining us today.” He tilted his head, indicating John. “I just really enjoy making him nervous.” Jacoby’s eyes found the pink passes. “Are those for me?” he asked with only a touch of sarcasm.

This seemed to snap John out of his stupor. “Yeah, Dr. Garrity said something about needing to update the wallpaper in your bathroom or something.” Grabbing the pass from Arianna, John handed them to Dr. Jacoby.

“That was probably amusing at one time, Mr. Samson. Would you two care to take a seat? You’re interrupting the kickoff of my favorite week.”

John’s cheeks began to burn as he walked to the empty seat in the front row. His intellect made him a target of both admiration and jealousy but in class, people respected him for it. Arianna took the seat behind him.

Jacoby slid off the desk and walked to the front of the room. “Religion! That’s something everyone has in common.”

“How’s that?” Jason Streeter asked.

A smile on his face, “You either have one or you don’t.” Jacoby continued pacing, using his preferred method of staring at the ground while lecturing. “How many of you are Christian?” Seven hands went up, not that Jacoby would have known. With his head still down, he asked, “Do you all practice the same branch?” The hands went down slowly as everyone looked at each other. He stopped and looked up. “What are you?”

“Baptist!”

“LDS!”

“Seventh-Day Adventist!”

“Episcopalian!”

 “Catholic!”

Jacoby held up his hands. “Anyone Jewish?”

Sean Heiberg raised his hand. “I don’t really practice, though.”

“Be glad you don’t.” Resuming his pacing, Jacoby continued his lecture. “If this were, say the end of the first century CE, I’d expect to hear so many different denominations announced in class. In fact, for the first three hundred years following Christ, I’d wager it impossible to have counted the number of Christian groups. Who was right?” Stopping again, Dr. Jacoby scanned the class. “Thanks to Constantine, we got the first of many ecumenical councils charged with creating the story which became The Holy Bible. For a millennia, this idea of one religion existed throughout much of the civilized world ceasing only with The Crusades and later the period of Reformation. Interesting, huh? Shocking, really; how dare history repeat itself?” The class laughed.

“Now, I’m not paid a handsome sum of a few dollars a day to teach you about Christianity. You learn about that from everywhere. What we’ll be studying has to do with the earlier religions, mainly those of the polytheistic type.” He walked back to his desk, pulling a small stack of notecards from his top drawer. “You’ll remember filling out these interest cards at the end of last year?” Without waiting for a confirmation, he went on. “You were all placed in my course because of your specific interests in the civilizations of the Mediterranean. That’s an interest we share and we’ll be discussing over the next week. Today is quiz day!”

A groan spread throughout the class as Dr. Jacoby grabbed a sheet of paper from his desktop. “Alright, remember this isn’t graded so don’t be afraid to fail. And, if you must fail-“

“Fail spectacularly.” The class said unenthused.

John heard a tiny giggle come from behind him. Looking over his shoulder, he saw a smile starting to spread over Arianna’s features. His stomach did a flip as his cheeks got hot.

“Mr. Samson, why don’t you go first? It’ll be easier to go downhill from there.” Jacoby leaned against the whiteboard as he perused the questions on his quiz. “Ah, here’s a good one. Who would I be if I struck you with an arrow?”

John blinked. “An archer?”

“What?” Jacoby looked back at the paper. “Oh, sorry. Who would I be if I struck you with an arrow and you promptly fell in love with the first woman you saw?”

“Um, Eros?”

“, we’re thinking the Olympic Pantheon. Try again.”

John stared at the floor, watching the dust float around the streaming rays of sun. “Cupid. The cherub.”

“Well done. Thanks, John. Jason, you’re next.”

This went on for the next fifteen minutes until only Arianna was left. “Ms. Letat, I do believe that it’s your turn.” Jacoby was smiling down at her. “Who is the oldest of the Olympic Gods?”

Arianna licked her lips as she sat thinking. “Aphrodite, I think. Because, she was born from Uranus’ junk, right?”

A few students laughed nervously. “Junk?” Dr. Jacoby replied. “I guess that would be an accurate contemporary description. The father of the gods of Olympus was born from another god’s junk. That’s the stuff poets strive for.” The sarcasm was strong, and Arianna was stung by it. But she quickly felt better upon seeing the warm smile on Jacoby’s face. He returned the paper to his desk and slowly climbed to sit on it.

“That went well, guys. I’m glad that you’ve all at least seen the Disney movie Hercules. It may not be accurate, but it gets the names right. Although, the Roman name is used for the hero while the gods are from the Olympic Pantheon is a bit ridiculous but that’s beside the point.” A look of confusion crept onto his face. “Actually, that’s kind of exactly the point or at least a good segue.”

From behind him, grabbed a stack of half sheets of paper and passed them to Jason. “Hand these out?”

Beginning again, Jacoby explained. “You’ve got an assignment due next Friday. Stop groaning.” No one had groaned yet, but it was habit for him. “On these half sheets are the name of an ancient city in which you must figure out which civilization it belongs to, which pantheon of gods they worship, if any, and who they succeeded and preceded. What you’ll need is a two-to-four page paper outlining for findings and put together a little presentation or something. Use your imagination. Go ahead and get together with your partners. You can take the rest of the time to plan. Go.”

A sense of realization was dawning on John. While the rest of the class noisily moved around finding their partners, John was aware that Arianna had yet to move. “Arianna?”

“Yeah?”

“Did you get a blank sheet?”

Arianna slid her bag across the floor to the desk on John’s left. She followed it a moment later. “Is this his normal mode of operation?” she asked. Her green eyes were wide, adding an unspoken layer of confusion to her questions.

Jacoby cleared his throat. “Well, kiddos. We have something to discuss when class is over.”

A look of fear passed between the two of them as they wondered what he was up to. The final three minutes went by quickly. John found himself surprised by the dinging tones of the bell. Ninety seconds later, the classroom was empty except for Jacoby, John and Arianna.

Dr. Jacoby closed the door, locking it with a small metallic ‘click’. “Alright, guys.” He turned and walked toward them. “I’m sure you’re aware that you didn’t get an assigned city.”

Arianna looked at John. She was wondering where Jacoby was going with this, and was trying to convey this with only a look. John sat there.

“Are you two familiar with Atlantis?”

“How can anyone be? It was wiped off the face of the Earth thousands of years ago.” John’s willingness to speak stunned them both.

Jacoby raised an eyebrow. “What do you know, John? Hypothetically, that is.”

“Uh, well, they were an advanced society. We know little of it. Plato, wrote the most famous account, but whether it was hearsay or not is hard to say. Still, this sort of thing is scholastic suicide. It isn’t taken seriously.”

“It isn’t, that’s true, John.” Jacoby pulled one of the extra chairs over from under the whiteboard. “The problem is that myth is always based in fact. It might be ridiculously buried but there has to be a morsel of truth there somewhere.”

John pursed his lips and ran a hand through his hair. His eyes found Arianna, she looked as confused as he felt. “Atlantis as a mythical city or island has lasted for more than ten thousand years, compounded by our recent fascination with knowing everything about our world. Some legends said that it was the domain of Poseidon granted to him when the eldest Olympians divided the world but who can know that for sure? We can’t even decide if they’re the correct deities for worship. Other legends speak of a civilization with a great power bestowed upon them by the gods. In fact, the only thing these legends have in common is the idea of its destruction. One day and one night, slid under the sea. It was the end. But, come on, how can we research a topic that has no research available?”

Jacoby slipped off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. With that movement, he seemed to be nothing more than an old man. He certainly felt like one. “There is some research available.”

Arianna’s head turned. “From where? It wouldn’t be any good if you’d use something like Plato. That was secondary when it was written. So is the mention of it in the Bible.”

“No,” Jacoby was shaking his head. He put his glasses back on and looked at Arianna and John in turn. “There is an organization, known as Volte, which has amassed a vast amount of information regarding the lost civilization of Atlantis. It also possesses information about you two.”

“Wait, what?” John couldn’t help himself. “What the hell is Volte and why do they information about us?” He turned to Arianna, “What information could they have about us?”

Almost as if on cue, the HVAC unit turned on, filling the room with a constant droning. As the building creaked, providing life to the sterile surroundings, Jacoby began to tell them about Volte.

“Volte is an organization which operates under an umbrella of secrecy, within circles it has created for its protection. Members of the organization are dedicated to protecting and obtaining the information for which it was founded. I am dedicated to protecting the information by protecting certain people.” He laced his fingers in front of him as he gathered his train of thought.

“Our interest in you stems from your bloodline. Your parents have each brought a piece to an ancestral puzzle which has been missing the lid for millennia. With your births, Volte believes that there is a better chance of finding Atlantis than there’s ever been before.”

“How? What is it about Volte’s information that makes you think it’s us? How can we possibly help you find something that’s been not only hidden from the world but may never have existed?” John’s questions were those Arianna had as well. Neither of them seemed to know what to expect, but the mixture of fear and anticipation made them stay where they were.

Nodding, Jacoby closed his eyes. “I understand.” Taking a deep breath, he continued. “Bear with me, as the story I’m about to tell you may not appear to make sense immediately. I only hope that I’m right.” Again, he removed his glasses and breathed deeply. Slowly releasing his lungful of air, Jacoby began, “The 18^th century contained a world on the brink. Just following the age of Enlightenment and the beginnings of interest in Classicism, our world had all but forgotten the glorious civilizations of the past. London was still important, as were a few a few Middle Eastern cities. But there was no prevailing civilization responsible for carrying humanity into the future. We were basically as primitive as we were when we were Romans.”

“In fact, it wasn’t until a man in the British Colonies stupidly flew a kite on a hilltop in a lightning storm that we realized there was more to the world than what was harnessed by man. Benjamin Franklin had a light bulb go off, so to speak. It was then that he realized energy was not only around us but within us as well. He felt the energy course through him as the electricity entered his body. It was said to be the most transcendental experience of his life, and part of the reason why he requested to become the Ambassador to France in his later life.”

Jacoby ran a hand over his thinning gray hair. A look of confusion attached to his face as he thought deeply.

“While in France, he heard stories of an incident that had taken place in the French countryside more than a century ago. It spoke of a prophecy.”

Arianna sat forward. “Like an ancient one? Sibylline or something like that?”

“You are familiar with prophecies?” Jacoby’s voice was gleeful. It was rare that a student would appreciate the arcane art of prophecy. For a student with less than one hour of his instruction to have an understanding of them was an experience he’d always hoped for. This girl was making the wait, the length of his career, worth it.

John shifted in his chair, feeling uneasy about the moment that was happening.. “Well, it’s nice that the two of you have something to base a working relationship on.  However can we get a refresher course for those of us who are a little unfamiliar?”

“Ms. Letat? I’ll let you tackle this.”

Nervously, Arianna smiled. “Okay.” She turned to face John, tilting her head upward as she organized her thoughts. “Alright, so prophecies were statements, no, generalizations rather, that were given by prophets.” Somehow she felt that this wasn’t working out so well. “Sorry, I meant to say that prophecies could be sought out from prophets. Think of the Oracle system in Classical Greece. They were so vital to the development of Western Civilization. Imagine how different Julius Caesar’s life would have been if he hadn’t sought out to disprove the Oracle’s prophecy regarding him not making it past the Ides of March. He was so certain of his divinity and his infallibility that he made the decision to confront fate. What would be of our lives if he had succeeded and lived? Who knows, but fate?”

John’s arms were folded across his chest. “This I know already. What exactly are you trying to tell me?”

“John, there were groups of people who only did prophetic readings. It was, like, their job.” Fitful, she got up and paced the front of the room. “The Sybils were a group of prophet-ish-esses, but we know basically nothing of them because the final King of Rome was a tightwad.”

Jacoby leaned forward. “I’m going to have to stop you for a moment. ‘Prophet-ish-esses?’”

“Yes. They really aren’t prophets although they’re pretty much considered that now. But instead they provided, I’m not really sure how to describe them, but, the necessary means to prevent dangerous calamities from occurring.”

“Aren’t all calamities dangerous?” John asked. A smile was curling onto John’s face.

Arianna stopped pacing, standing twenty feet away from him with a hand on her hip. “Thanks, Sheldon.” Before continuing, she let a smile slip.

“Other prophets weren’t even prophets at all. They were simply observers who made largely well-researched statements about the future which were sometimes correct. Even there, the correctness is always up for debate as the generic-ness of most true prophecies is so broad-ranging that the intent can be construed to fit anyone’s needs.”

With that, she walked back to the desk and sat hard upon the plastic chair. Silence followed broken by a slow smile on Jacoby’s face.

“That was quite amusing. Have you given this much thought?” The tone was playful, but something in his voice made Arianna realize that he knew she had given it much thought. “One second.”

He rolled his chair to the door, checking that it was locked before skating across the floor to the rear wall of windows. Carefully, Jacoby closed and locked each window. As he did so, he took notice of the going-ons behind the school, almost like he was afraid of being overheard. After the windows were closed and the air began to thicken, he rolled back to his desk and flipped a switch on the wall behind him. Fifteen seconds later the room was dark, a heavy screen having descended across the windows.

“You two are important. Now, before you think I’m doing the teacher-preaching-how-awesome-you-are thing, you’ll need to understand the gravity of the situation. Your importance extends as far back as ten millennia, yet no one truly knows. What we do have is a story which members of Volte recognized as the missing powers.”

“Wait,” John held up a hand. “Powers?” He glanced at Arianna, “Are we like superheroes or something?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Arianna told him. “Please continue, Dr. Jacoby.”

With a dirty look over his glasses, Jacoby went on. “The Current. We believe that you two possess it. What it is? We can’t really say because we’ve never had a pair. But, still. Let’s finish this Franklin business. Grab hands.”

John looked surprised by the command. Shrugging it off, he looked to his right and saw Arianna waiting with her left hand in the air. Grabbing her hand, the two of them looked back at Jacoby.

“Close your eyes and listen closely. When I describe the scene, think about it. Create it in your mind and I think that you’ll be pleasantly surprised by the results. I hope.”

Arianna squeezed John’s hand and he felt a tingling in his fingers. The sensation made him feel calmer and allowed him to trust Jacoby enough to close his eyes. Arianna followed suit.

“Think of a simpler time, one where the world was beginning to change for the better, mostly. And for the most, no less. The period of Enlightenment was coming to a close, the classical era having been reborn. In France, an elderly statesman, one of the founders of the United States of America heard of a story which had happened some thirty years prior.”

“The southern coast of France resembles much of the rest of the coast of the Mediterranean. Near the town of Marseilles, verdant fields and bluffs offered respite from the crags and rocky formations that created the stigma of an inhospitable region for the agrarian lifestyle. It was within one of these fields that we find a farmer who owns a dairy a few miles from town returning from a long morning at the town market. Feeling resplendent from the poor showing, he’d unloaded his remaining milk and cheese at the local orphanage hoping the fresh dairy would raise the spirits of the children. They deserved to be happy even if he couldn’t be.”

“As he neared the edge of his property line, he came across a young man. No more than fourteen years, this man was in a state which was not fit for public. The nude gentile heard the farmer coming and turned. He spoke something in a language which the farmer did not understand. Somehow, the farmer conveyed to the stranger to follow him home. Much to chagrin of his wife, the young man bathed and slept. Awakening shortly before dinner, the man ate with an appetite the farmer had not seen since he fed four French soldiers who were lost on his property ten years ago. Once the food was gone and the pleasure replaced by discomfort, the man returned to bed.”

“Late in the night, there was a commotion in the barn. Fearing for his livelihood, the farmer ran through the yard, cursing himself for allowing a stranger to room in the loft. If anything were to happen to his cattle the farmer knew it would take years to repair.”

“At first uncertain, he realized that the young man was limping through the yard. Shouting at him didn’t work. Out of options and fearful for his life, he ran after the man. What he found was the man in terror. His face was alive with fright. Scared, the farmer closely followed him as the young man slowed at a patch of grass which appeared to be impervious to the windy conditions. Silent and still, the grass sat tall reaching for the distant sunlight.”

“Calmly, the young man dropped to his knees. With his body trembling, the man threw his arms up to the sky and released an exultant cry. The farmer jumped. Moments later the young man patted the grass next to him, the look of peace on his face erasing all fears on the farmer’s mind.”

Hesitantly, the farmer sat. A warmth spread through him as the young man took his hand. As quickly as the warmth began it turned into a tight, piercing burn. Unable to bear it, the farm tugged away his hand. His actions got the attention of the entranced man. The young man’s face still looked serene, but something had changed. His soft green eyes had turned a fiery red; his body had begun to glow. Not a fool, the farmer threw himself as far from the man as he could. A blast of heat spread over his body as he heard the words repeat: ‘There are two to be found, by invisible hand they are bound. The powers of evil know none of the powers undone. To repair is to connect the two.’”

“Like the sun itself had extinguished, the air quickly cooled. Shaking, the farmer lifted his face from the grass, fearful for what lay behind him. As the will came to him, he saw the man had gone. All that remained was a circle of ash which was beginning to blow in the gentle breeze.”

Jacoby’s voice trailed off, hanging in the air rather unlike the ashes of the young man. “This story was told by the farmer to his son on the dairy farmer’s deathbed. Years passed, the son had moved to Paris when he was asked to work in then-Ambassador Benjamin Franklin’s household. It was from the farmer’s son that Benjamin Franklin put together the pieces. He founded, resurrected actually, the order of Volte.”

Silence, disturbed only by the groaning of the still running HVAC, grew. Jacoby looked at the children seated before him and felt his heart grow heavy. Children. Why was it always children that had to save the world? Still, what they were going through he would never know. But it was always him who had to lead them to what could only be seen as their certain deaths. To say who that was worse for, well, that was a matter of personal opinion. Jacoby could only hope that the children were able to cope better than he was.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

At first, John was nervous. He trusted Jacoby, sure. But what he felt with Arianna’s hand in his was something different. Still, he closed his eyes.

Arianna was hesitant. It was the gentle squeeze from John’s hand that made the warm sensation matter less. She closed her eyes.

Instantly they were transported through the tale. Whether physical or disembodied, their presence remained true.

Above them, below them, around them, within them; the scene was taking place in every space.

Fear, elation, confusion, insight; their every emotion appeared to be brimming the surface.

Understanding, truth; what needed to be found was unseen, what needed to be lost was sent into light.

Drifting, traveling, running, falling; they were coming to where it began. The journey was ahead. And the starting line now existed.

 

 

 

 

 

A moment of confusion followed when Arianna and John returned. Unsure of where they’d gone or what necessarily had happened, Jacoby understood the stunned silence that came.

Minutes passed by, broken only by the slight beginnings of sentences and questions, all quickly extinguished before they even began.

Jacoby broke the silence. “Were you there?”

“Yes,” they replied.

A smile crept upon his face. These two kids before him were about to embark upon a dangerous journey. One he’d seen many people try to take. What made him sure these were the two to make the journey successfully?

As he stared at the two of them across the desk, Arianna was still moving her lips. A sudden thought occurred to him. “Arianna, what is it you’re thinking?”

Startled by the question, Arianna began to respond slowly. “Well, you  said that the power to repair, to heal, is contained within us. This, Current?”

Jacoby merely nodded.

Breathing deeply, she continued, “Its referring to repairing Atlantis, isn’t it? Does it mean we can bring it back?”

“Yes, and no.” Jacoby stood. While pacing he scratched his chin. “There are many reasons why the Gods took no mercy on the people of Atlantis. Greed, arrogance, idolatry-but, we must remember. These were the Gods’ people. They belonged to them, just like they did to the citizens. Without one, there could not be the other. One might endure, or fade. Time can only tell.”

Discomfort rolled through the room. From the broken gaze between Jacoby and Arianna to John, still fidgeting in his seat-Something in the air was changing. An understanding was coming through.

John voiced his concern. “Alright, so, if we are the pair referred to in this prophecy or whatever, what is there left for us to do?” He continued. “Even more of them, weren’t there? I mean, the Rockefeller’s were a pair but there were others, right?” On Jacoby’s face, a smug look of pride appeared. “How many others were there?”

“Well, we can’t know for certain. Volte did not exist before the early 19^th century. Still, we know of the Rockefellers. They were important and did great things, but not the right things.”

“How can you know they weren’t right?” John asked. The pensive look on his face made him appear suddenly older than 17.

“We can’t, know that is.” Jacoby shrugged his shoulders. “We believe that the power of The Current was what ultimately led to the downfall of the civilization of Atlantis. It created a desire for power and land that the king used the power to satisfy. My belief is that you two can somehow allow the Atlanteans to atone for their mistakes. Allow them to re-appease the Gods…All of them.”

Jacoby rose from his chair, straightening his glasses as he did so. He left John and Arianna in the room. Around them, the HVAC stopped, making the room feel like the empty belly of a sleeping beast. Whether it was waking or in REM, they could not know. But what was known, was that there could be no turning back.