The Paladin Prophecy (34 page)

“That’s surprising. Neurobiology is an
adventurous
discipline,” said Geist enthusiastically, “with high rates of discovery and thrilling themes. I’d have thought you might
inherit
some residual interest.”

“Maybe I have and don’t know it. Maybe it’s just a recessive gene.”

Geist laughed. “So you do know a little about our subject.”

Will held his fingers a millimeter apart.

“Well, I’m a firm believer that before you visit a new country, it’s very useful to have a look at a map. Let me draw one for you. Metaphorically speaking.”

Geist led him to a large blank whiteboard on the wall. Will felt grateful for Geist’s kindness in response to his cluelessness. As opposed to, say, Professor Sangren melting his face off in front of the whole class.

Geist picked up a stylus and flipped a switch on it. The brightness of the board intensified; light beamed out of the stylus.

“Genetics,” said Geist. “From the same root word as
genesis
, meaning ‘origin.’ The beginning of all things. The branch of science in which we study the role played in the development of living organisms by two factors: heredity and variation. Traits either inherited from biological predecessors—our parents and ancestors—or influenced by a multitude of factors in nature.”

“Nature versus nurture,” said Will.

“Exactly! The philosophical polarities that define our field.” Operating the stylus, Geist somehow made the words
fate
and
nature
appear on one side of the board and drew a circle around them.

“Over here,” he said, tapping the circle, “think of heredity as a form of destiny. What the Greeks liked to call fate. Everything that happens to us in life is predetermined, because the
definitions
of our character are set in advance by the limits of what’s in our individual genetic code. While over here is the other extreme …”

On the opposite side of the board, Geist stamped the word
nurture
, then added the words
free will
and circled them.

“… which argues that people have
complete autonomy
in how they develop. Embracing the idea that as unique creatures, each of us evolves into what we become in life because we
choose
to do so through the unfolding expression of our character, regardless, or in
spite
of, what’s written in our code. These two positions and everything in between, in the simplest terms, constitute our map.”

“I’m with you,” said Will.

“Good. Where do you suppose we’ll find objective, scientific
truth
?”

“Somewhere in the middle.”

“A fine answer.”

Geist used the stylus again and the center of the board opened like a window looking into a three-dimensional aquarium. A graphic of twin multicolored spirals of DNA strands twisting around each other spanned the length of the window. Around it appeared clusters of animated boxes, filled with letters and symbols pointing to different sections of the strands.

“The human genetic code,” said Geist. “The blueprint of life. It contains over twenty-four thousand individual genes and three
billion
chemical base pairs, each one capable of thirty thousand variations. All of which contribute to the existence and persistence of human life. Over seven billion humans alive today carry their version of what you see here, inside trillions of cells in their body. And all these blueprints are as unique as the stars in the sky. Now turn your mind to the difference between a
map …
”

The screen zoomed in and hovered over magnified sections of the double helix, as large, detailed, and dimensional as the surface of an alien planet.

“… and the
territory
it describes. And
this
territory, Will, is as dark and unknown to us as the Great Plains were to Lewis and Clark when they set off to find the Northwest Passage. As mysterious as space exploration was to my generation.

“Every generation finds its own frontier, and this one is yours, Will,” said Geist with an evangelist’s zeal. “It may well be the
last
frontier. Someone from your cohort, maybe even a person you know, will become the Magellan, Cortés, or Columbus of this world. They won’t be in search of a new trade route or commodities like spice or sugarcane. The possibilities of discovery here are infinitely more profound, because we can now say with certainty that somewhere on this map all the answers to the mystery of human existence—of creation
itself—
are waiting to be found.”

Images of plant and animal life, boundless varieties of both, flashed across the screen, around the twisting strands of DNA and four letters: A, T, C, and G. Will was mesmerized by the elegant spectacle.

“All life on earth owes its existence to the secrets of these simple, elegant forms, but for most of nature, their fates are written in their code—as limitations—with the finality of stone. This flower blossoms in purple; that small mammal mates exclusively during two weeks each spring; this bird’s life is ruled by rigid migrations.

“Less than seven percent of the building blocks of life are unique to human beings. Seven percent that allows our species to ‘transcend’ in a single generation what, to every other form of life, are unbreakable boundaries. Seven percent that, in ways we don’t yet understand, is responsible for the phenomenon of ‘human consciousness.’ The phenomenon that in only a few thousand years has given us …”

A cascade of images flowed on-screen, familiar faces, mathematical formulas, engineering blueprints, musical notes.

“… Shakespeare, Newton, Mozart, Leonardo da Vinci, Jesus, Beethoven, Dickens, Michelangelo, Edison, Einstein, Gandhi, Galileo, the Buddha, the Beatles … With this map in hand, we will one day, soon, crack the secrets of that seven percent. You and your contemporaries may awaken as an evolutionary generation that leads humankind to a brighter future.”

Geist tapped the stylus and a sea of young faces appeared, students at the Center gazing up at something dazzling and unseen. “And here lie wonders to behold.”

Will walked away from class lost in thought. If Geist’s intention had been to make him think, he’d succeeded: His primer on genetics focused Will’s mind in a new way on these mysterious abilities he’d been discovering almost every day. They had to have a genetic basis, but as far as he knew, Jordan and Belinda West had never demonstrated anything like these talents he now possessed.

If he didn’t inherit them from his parents, where the hell had they come from?

THE WEIGHT ROOM

Will rang the bell on the counter by the cage in the locker room. He’d picked up his laundry bag from his locker, leaving time to change before practice.

“Hey, Jolly, you there?”

“You again,” said Nepsted.

Will heard his wheelchair before the dwarf rolled out of a small room on the side of the cage that Will hadn’t noticed before.

“I forgot to ask,” said Will, holding up the mesh bag. “What do we do with our laundry?”

“Drop it in a shower room hamper,” said Nepsted. “It’ll be delivered to your locker in two days. Except Fridays. Drop it Friday, you get it back Monday.”

Nepsted rolled up to his side of the cage and held Will with his strange round, unblinking eyes.

He said come back when I’m ready. Am I? Only one way to find out
.

“We were talking about the mascot the other day,” said Will carefully. “I learned something I want to ask you about.”

“Oh?”

“Did you know the original Paladins were the Knights of Charlemagne?” asked Will.

“Do I look stupid?” asked Nepsted, neutral. “If you know so much, tell me how many there were.”

“Twelve,” said Will. “They called themselves the Peers.”

“Twelve is a sacred number,” said Nepsted, his voice a mesmerizing drone. “Wholeness. Unity. Twelve signs of the zodiac. Twelve tones in the musical scale. Twelve face cards in a deck. Twelve on a jury. Twelve nights of Christmas. Twelve labors of Hercules. Twelve men on the moon. Twelve petals of the unfolding eternal lotus. Twelve hours of darkness, twelve of light. Twelve tribes of Israel—”

Will instantly regretted asking him anything. The guy sounded as nuts as a conspiracy freak broadcasting from a mobile home in the desert.

“Months, inches, eggs,” said Will. “I get it—”

“Twelve
Paladins
,” said Nepsted emphatically, then paused before adding, “Twelve
disciples
.”

“Disciples …,” said Will. “You’re saying … the Paladins are disciples? Of who? The Old Gentleman?”

Nepsted’s head wobbled as he grinned crookedly. “The Knights
follow
the Old Gentleman, but they’re
disciples …
of something
else
.”

“Something? Not someone? You mean like the Never-Was?”

Nepsted’s eyes lit up, but he just shrugged.
He
likes
toying with me
, Will thought.
Time to stop talking in circles
.

“Does the school know about the Knights?” asked Will.

Nepsted grinned at him. “Would they pick a paladin for our mascot if they didn’t?”

“But do they know about what’s down in that auxiliary locker room?” asked Will. “Do they know about the tunnels?”

“What makes you think
I’d
know that?”

“You told me you’re the one with all the keys.”

“All but one,” said Nepsted cryptically.

“You know what’s really going on down there, don’t you?” Will insisted.

Nepsted suddenly looked frightened. “If you’ve got business there, you know what goes on. If you don’t know what goes on, you’ve got no business there.”

Knowing he’d touched a nerve, Will moved closer to the cage and pointed a finger at Nepsted. “You know what’s down there, and you know what it’s for. The hats and the masks and the tunnels that run under the lake and come out at the Crag. I think you even know about the Never-Was. You told me you’re the one who knows everything that goes on around here. Or were you just lying?”

Nepsted’s face contorted, turning an alarming beet red. “How many locks do you see around here, kid?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Bring me
that
answer,” said Nepsted, hissing with venom. “Or don’t come
back
.”

Nepsted pushed a button on his side of the counter. A screen of articulated metal siding began to slide down from the ceiling on Nepsted’s side of the cage. He turned around to ride away.

Will called after him, “What do the Knights want? What are they doing here? Why are you afraid of them?”

This time Nepsted whipped his chair around and zoomed to the counter with startling speed. He pointed a long bony finger at Will as the metal lowered past his face. “You’ve got a right to put your own life in danger, but don’t you
dare
mess with mine, boy. Do you hear me? It’ll go far worse for you than you can imagine.”

The screen crashed onto the counter with a resounding clang. Will heard the squeak of Nepsted’s chair retreating into the cage.

“Great,” muttered Will. “I pissed off the sociopathic dwarf.”

“How many locks do you see around here, kid?”
What the hell did that mean? It was like trying to talk to a fortune cookie. Rumpelstiltskin clearly held the key to more than just doors, but the
first
challenge was unlocking
him
.

Maybe next time I should use my “enhanced” powers of suggestion
, thought Will.

He dropped his laundry into a hamper and glanced at his watch. Eight minutes to get to Jericho’s cross-country practice. He hurried to his locker and changed into his sweats. The spike wounds from Suicide Hill had nearly disappeared already. Only faint red lines remained from yesterday’s long nasty scrapes.

Will glanced in the mirror at the end of the next row. Staring back at him, behind his own reflection, was
Dave
. Will whirled around, but Dave wasn’t there. He turned back and stepped closer to the mirror. Dave smiled, looking substantial and real, standing beside him in the aisle. Will turned again: empty space.

Dave was
inside
the mirror.

“How am I seeing you right now?” asked Will.

“If you want to get technical, ‘astral projection.’ I’m back at headquarters. Good news: You’ve been cleared for the next level of classified info.”

“Whatever you say, Dave,” said Will, sitting to tie his shoes. “I don’t want to get you mad again.”

“I work for the Hierarchy,” said Dave. “Have a gander.”

Will looked up from his shoes and his jaw dropped.

An image had appeared beside Dave in the mirror: a vast cityscape of gleaming towers, spires, and pavilions floating in midair above an endless snowcapped mountain range. As Dave spoke, the image rotated slowly.

“Imagine seven interlocking divisions of a global corporation whose only purpose is to do good. I know: not humanly possible. That’s why the Hierarchy exists on the etheric level. It’s that big, Will:
Epic
can’t convey its real scope.” Dave pointed to some of the gigantic buildings. “The Personnel Department alone could cover Kansas—caseworkers, managers, counselors. Architects and builders. The Legion of Thoughtforms. The Hall of Akashic Records. Our offices are up here, near the Council of Mahatmas.”

Dave pointed to a high ivory tower rising above the center of the complex. Will saw thousands of people at work in gargantuan halls.

“Are all those people alive?” he asked.

“Alive, absolutely. Not in the earthbound sense of the word—that is, like me, not strictly physical, but they can be, depending on the need.”

“What’s it all for?” asked Will, his voice barely a whisper.

The image faded. Dave looked kinder than Will had ever seen him, as if he knew how impossible this was to absorb. “We look after the whole planet, mate. Caretakers for all the forms of life, according to department. I’m with Security. We keep eyes peeled for funny business from the Other Team, provide special services for the chief of operations, upon whose desk the buck comes to a complete stop.”