The Focus Effect

Fourteen

I get up with the sun and take a morning jog. It's hot and humid but beautiful. There is a ghostly mist hanging over the lake and the sounds of wildlife seemed to be turned up all the way. The Brazilian nut trees are monstrous and mysterious to me-ancient and harboring the secrets of the universe. Moss seems to cover everything and bromeliads have rooted into the trunks and branches of the trees. Exotic passion flowers and philodendrons vine their way around the trees and anything else they can grasp to lift themselves up from the earth. The brilliant red, yellow and orange bracts of parrot flowers dot the northern edge of the lake, their large green leaves intermingled with ferns. I'm so hot by the time I get around to the falls that I once again contemplate diving in. But I wait. I want to get back and get cleaned up before Jameson arrives. Plus I definitely still need to make sure that I can swim. It feels stranger than ever to me that I don't know this about myself.

After I clean up, I call Kingshire from the Safe Room for our 8 o'clock conference. He seems like he's irritable but I suppose he's tolerable. He runs a few tests. My radiation levels are still fine. He says he'll try to stop by later to bring more things for transmogrification. As he's about to leave I tell him about absorbing the water through my silver markings.

"We already knew this," he says shortly. "But thanks for informing me of your discovery. See you tonight."

The screen goes black.

I'm slightly irritated that I wasn't told about this. I suppose it's conceivable that he thought I already knew, having taken showers and baths already. Now that I think about it, I wonder how I didn't notice sooner. All this renews my interest in seeing the file on me that supposedly exists. At 8:30, Jameson knocks on my door.

I resign myself to being cordial. I really want to learn what he has to teach. Who cares if he's a little arrogant and a jerk? I've dealt with worse since being here. I open the door. "Good morning, Jameson," I smile.

"Don't call me that," he immediately says. "It's JD or Doctor Bryson. Nobody calls me that."

Geesh, he's already on the defensive. Strike one. "I'll bet your mother does," I joke, trying to recover my losses.

"My mother doesn't call me anything. She's dead."

Strike two. Well, isn't this a bit awkward? "I'm sorry, JD. I lost my family. I know what that's like." I really don't because I can't remember them, but I think pointing out that we have something in common may ease the tension between us.

JD sighs. "I can't remember my family so I don't know what that's like nor do I care to remember. This may seem hard for you to believe, but I really have no interest in your sordid past, as fascinating as I'm sure it isn't..."

Strike three. Who the hell talks like this? And what does he mean that he can't remember his family?

"...no interest in being chums, pals or otherwise involved..."

Oh, hell. Who cares? He's going down.

"...then you can ask questions. Otherwise, let's avoid small talk altogether if you think it's within the realm of your ability to keep quiet."

I can't believe I wondered what it would be like to kiss those spiteful, mean spirited-beautiful lips of his. I come at him full force with a right jab.

I would have loved to have seen him with a shiner. But instead of connecting, he dodges my attack and grabs my other hand, raises it above his shoulder and uses his other hand to grab my errant fist. I immediately learn the definition of momentum because it takes very little effort on his part as he uses my forward force to send me to the floor. Jameson stands over me with a devious smile on his face. I'm somehow unhurt because he has managed to support most of my weight during this one sided exchange. I'm one part astonished, one part disappointed that I missed knocking some sense into that pretty head of his.