Not Just a Case Study

I wrote a very little bit more.  And I'm tiiiiiired.

***

“From what I understand, my face goes totally blank when the twinsight is on me,” I said as kindly as possible.  She was fresh from the Academy, after all, and surely no more than six or seven years older than me.  “No expression whatsoever.  It’s probably mentioned somewhere in my file.”

“Oh,” her face flushed.  “I’m sorry, of course it is.  You must think I’m such a spaz!”

I smiled.  “No, just eager, and I can’t fault you for that.  We’re doing important work here, after all.”

“Aren’t we, though?”  Her eyes were shining as she continued, “I was so excited when they told me I’d be assisting Guide Loren for my residency.  He’s done such incredible work in the field of Savvy conditioning- oh, um,” she broke off, coloring again.

“It’s okay,” I said.  “Guide Loren helps me maximize my potential- I’m lucky to have him.”

“But happiness, tho!” Rosemary breathed.  “What an incredibly… well it just must be tricky to keep the conditions right for you, that’s all.”

I laughed.  “You’ll have to ask Guide Loren- but as he is so fond of reminding me, he is aided in his endeavors by my naturally sunny disposition.  Apparently it’s not hard to keep me happy.  And any time I feel my cheer slipping,” I teased, “I just think of poor Alan, and feel grateful that I don’t have to spend my life surrounded by the perfect shade of blue.”

“Oh, the pendulum!  Yes, that was a fascinating case-study.  I can’t believe Loren ever figured that one out.  It must have been maddening…” she trailed off.  “Anyway, sorry, I need to remember that you’re people, not case-studies.”

“That we are,” I said.  “And right now this non-case-study needs to get on to her class.  If you’ll excuse me?”

Pants and Their Seats

It occurred to me recently that I might be in need of a little more pantsing.

(No, not like that.)

Allow me to explain.  See, writers can more or less be broken down into two basic types: plotters and pantsers.  Plotters, well, they plot it all out ahead of time.  Pantsers write by-the-seat-of-their-pants.  To be strictly accurate, most writers are a mix of the two, but trend one way or the other.  When I was very young I was a pantser- I think most children are- but as I got older I became more and more of a plotter.  To the point where I think I sometimes pre-write my way into not being able to actually write, for fear of somehow breaking the world-building I've already spent so many hours on.  Which brings us to today, and a story-seed I've had for a while, which I've given the working-name Twinsight.  I've done only the barest of plotting on it- more character/concept than actual plot- so it's perfect to use for pants-practice.  Behold.

***

There aren’t that many of us living in the Commune- maybe three hundred, if you don’t count the Guides.  It’s a small enough number that I know most of my peers by sight, if not name.

I did not know this boy.

He was tall enough to stand out, and lean enough that it made him seem taller still.  He moved through the crowd with ease, slipping deftly from one gap to the next, bumping into no one.  He appeared to be sizing people up as he went- not in an aggressive way, but more like with an intense curiosity.

He must be newly-manifested, I realized.  Unused to being around so many Savvies- perhaps not even knowing that so many existed in all the world, let alone Madran.  Most of us had manifested in childhood or puberty, but late bloomers weren’t unheard-of.  He must be one of them, and feeling overwhelmed by it all.

As if he could hear my thoughts, the boy looked in my direction; when his eyes met mine he gave me a wide grin.  My insides lurched: something about the dimple at the right side of his mouth transformed his average-good-looks into breath-takingly gorgeous.

“Leda!”

I tore my eyes away from the boy and turned towards the voice calling my name.  Rosemary, the new assistant to my primary Guide, had a hopeful look on her face.

“Are you having a vision?” She asked.  I blinked in confusion.

“Why would you think I was having a vision?”

“Your face- it got… I don’t know.  It looked like you were seeing something unexpected.”

Well that was true.  I glanced back at where the boy had been.  He’d vanished, of course.