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Gordon Parlonski III sat at the desk, opening and closing the notebook. He didn’t expect any writings from Geefore, none were supposed to happen for another day. However, because of his grandson’s curious nature, Gordon was nervous about Geefore trying to make early contact.
His fears materialized when during one of the aimless flips, words appeared on the notebook’s pages.
Hi, Grandpa, it’s me (which maybe you already know) Geefore. I really miss you, I
For a brief moment, Gordon’s heart filled with joy, but it was immediately replaced with terror as he realized the error committed by his grandson. He had made contact from the outside . . . not that such contact was in and of itself bad . . . no, the problem was that Geefore had contacted Gordon before any arrangements could be made for protection from them . . . the Watchers. Without adequate safety measures in place, any writing coming from Geefore would immediately alert the Watchers that Gordon had succeeded (again) in establishing a line of contact with the outside, and that just was not allowed.
Gordon knew he had to act fast. Looking over the entire note, he realized two immediate problems. First, Geefore had signed his name, meaning the Watchers would now have something to go on if they decided to reach over to the outside, meaning Geefore’s safety was compromised. Second, Geefore had identified two of his friends . . . .they too would be targets for the Watchers. Gordon had precious little time to try and protect his grandson. He took a deep breath and began chanting a memorized radunare canzone . . . a summoning song.
Opening his mouth, a blue and silver mist escaped and formed into a small sphere. As gentle words cooed from his mouth, Gordon brought his hands to the orb and slowly tapped it down towards the notebook, until it rested an inch or so above Geefore’s message. Gordon put his hands on top of his head, took a deep breath, and blew down on the ball of mist. This caused it to disperse over the paper. As Gordon finished singing, a male face appeared on the page.
“Erase.” Gordon spoke this one word with authority.
The face, as best as a face on paper can do, nodded. Closing its eyes, the face began breathing in. As it did so, the words on the page began disappearing into its mouth.
“Halt!” Gordon suddenly commanded.
Gordon knew if he didn’t respond to Geefore on this particular page and at this particular time, he would never be able to properly warn him of the dangers he was about to face. Though he was confident that the Erase could shield most of the message from the Watchers, he knew complete secrecy was impossible. Only so much could be hidden. They would learn something. And they would be angry. And they would want revenge.
Gordon’s thoughts were racing, he had little time.
As soon as the words were spoken, Gordon looked at his grandson’s message, or what was left of it – several words were not disappearing. Geefore’s friend’s name, Rachael, was still on the page. He knew the Erase was near the end of its effectiveness. He had to write something before a Watcher appeared.
You have made a terrible, terrible mistake. Do not correspond any further until you hear otherwise. I fear your friend is in danger now and has been marked. To save her you . . . . .
A scraping sound came through the door to the room. Gordon slammed the notebook closed. It was the best he could do under the circumstances. Hoping he had strength for one more radunare, he closed his eyes and began preparing his mind for separation.
Just as he completed compartmentalizing his thoughts, Gordon felt the Watcher enter the room and move immediately towards the desk. He remained completely still.
Several minutes passed by without any movement from the Watcher. Though he could not see it directly, Gordon knew its hands were extended right over his head. “Intro-seeking” is what they called it. It was how they retained control over those like Gordon – it was how they identified those who would be trouble.
He’d been through this before, in fact, more times than he’d like to recall. The first few Intro-seeks did not end well. But that was the whole idea, wasn’t it? You would eventually get too scared to break their rules, you would be too scared to do anything but play their game and eventually . . . Gordon shuddered slightly.
This very brief movement resulted in a sharp pain flashing through Gordon’s head. That was the Watcher probing deeper, making sure no stone was left unturned. Gordon could not afford to make any further voluntary movements – the slightest shift in weight, or flex of his muscles would easily cause the deep protective meditation shield to crumble, leaving his free mind fully exposed.
If performed correctly, the Watcher would never know that it was Intro-seeking a false shell. Gordon’s summoning had managed to put up an ethereal wall between his true thoughts and memories and those that he was allowing the Watcher to view. What the Watcher hopefully was learning was that Gordon had been sitting quietly at his desk. The memory of the notebook would be hidden enough that the Watcher could not discern its existence. But Gordon had been rushed, that every salient detail had been pulled into his mind’s safe haven was no certainty.
Finally, Gordon was able to sense the Watcher leaving his thoughts. He waited a minute, then ended the protective meditation. He turned and observed the Watcher leaving the room. He breathed deeply and hoped that his grandson, Jesse and Rachael had remained undiscovered.
The Watcher suddenly turned to face Gordon.
“Raaaaaaaaachaelllllllll.” A hissing whisper escaped from its mouth.
Gordon had let his guard down too soon.
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