Really huh. HUH? Now I'm suspicious! You're very suspicious. =p

"I want you to tell me the experiments you've done with your powers before. The things you've tried to stretch and explore. Then we can look into new applications together. There's so much to do!"

A whole new world, a new fantastic point of view. Magic carpet ride. Etc.

In reply to Seraphina Martel (msg # 901):

Mother glances at Ghostface and frowns.  "I think this is a conversation that requires more privacy.  But yes.  I think we have a lot to talk about."

I ask Ghostface directly: "Can we get some privacy?"

In reply to Seraphina Martel (msg # 903):

Ghostface sighs and saunters off, grumbling that this is really his house after all.  But he disappears from view.

Mother rubs her temples.  "Well actually I didn't mean we should talk now.  But alright.  You have your Father's patience or lack thereof.

"I can move back through time.  Sort of."

She shrugs.  "The problem is when I go backwards I can't step out of the Grayscale.  It's like there's nothing to step back into.  I can only observe what's there to see.  It's like visiting a museum.  If I want to see a sequence of events, I have to travel back several times and view the various moments of each event.

"So if I wanted to watch your Father trip and fall, I have to travel back and find the moment he trips.  Then I have to move back to my time, step out, step back in, and travel back again to a moment right after he trips.  Then I can see a scene of him on the way down.  If I want to see him faceplant, I have to repeat the process.

"At no point can I step back out into the real world and say stop him from tripping.  I believe it's because that moment has already passed.  I can go back and watch it occur.  But I can't get back into that moment to alter it.

"Going the other way...that's trickier.  I've never been able to go forward more than .08 seconds.  And it is a lot of effort.  I mean a lot.  Enough that it's not worth doing."

"You taught me to be direct, honest, strong-willed and fearless."

I take a deep breath to steady myself. This is both frightening and exciting. Frightening because my parents have been keeping such monumental secrets. Exciting because of a new way to test and stretch my capabilities, to put myself and my resolve against nature in the quest for greatness.

"So, let's skip the amazement and questions about feelings and get to business. Can you show me how you looked at the past and went to the future?"

I have an innate sense for time, for distortions and movement in the temporal dimension of existence, in the same way that most people can see or hear. Through this sense, Mother showed me how to traverse the...well, I guess it's Limbo. Or something like that. I hope it's just a place ghosts linger and not more sinister.

I take out my notepad.

In reply to Seraphina Martel (msg # 905):

Mother clicks her tongue.  But answers.

"As much as I hate to sound Zen Buddhist about it, it's not a simple do-this-flip-this-switch type of thing.  There is a bit of...feeling...to it.

"What does it feel like when you step from real time to Grayscale?  Describe it."

She must be really rattled. She's never asked me for my feelings or perceptions before. Best to roll with it anyway.

I hold up my hands, fingers splayed, to demonstrate by pushing against the air. "It's like opening a door that's just a little bit rusty at the hinges, sort of, but with my thoughts and intentions rather than my body. Stepping through is a physical sensation, as if stepping into a pool full of cold gelatin. Kind of."

In reply to Seraphina Martel (msg # 907):

Mother nods.  "Yeah.  Cold gelatin.  That's a good analogy.  That is similar to what I described it as.

"Alright.  Do you feel anything like a current in the gelatin?  Like some kind of flow to it?"

I slowly tilt my head to the side. "Yes, but I always thought it was normal time, since it's always flowing the same way: directly towards me."

In reply to Seraphina Martel (msg # 909):

"Time pulls everyone.  YOu.  Me.  Even your Father though he seems stuck in the past" she grouses.  And then waves a hand.

"Anyway.  That current.  How do you normally handle it?  Do you try walking against it?  Or into it?  And how do you go about doing the walking?"

"I go to the side. An analogy: going into Limbo is like getting out of a boat in a river and stepping onto the shore, then walking directly away from the river. It is a transition of kind, rather than a struggle against the flow of time directly."

In reply to Seraphina Martel (msg # 911):

"That's what you need to work on.  The fact you aren't struggling against the flow.

"Have you tried walking into or along with the flow?"

Let me know if you get tired of discussing the powers.  Thanks

I'm trying to work three jobs to support myself, my mother, and my grandmother. I'm tired all the time. Property taxes were $15,000 this year. I need to post more often again. I can do it! It'll be fun!

I admit that it was a weird and unsettling shock to understand that 'time powers' are actually...creepier than that, but there are many possibilities opened by it.

"No, but I never thought it was possible. Fish don't know they're underwater, and all that."

I look around, mostly to gather my thoughts. I have an innate and well-honed sense for the flow of time and know better than almost anyone that time is not a uniform motion or even a direction, and it has its eddies and whorls, in a manner of speaking. Mostly to do with extremely high gravity or velocity.

But maybe I've never really understood before.

I spin in place a few times to try to "get" the concept of moving along with time instead of across or at an angle. Walking was necessary when I was a little kid, to move into, well, Limbo I suppose. Physical action helped contextualize and cement the conceptual action of performing a non-physical task.

I find one of spatially local time's eddies and walk several steps alongside, meandering in the lazy curves of the temporal disturbance, rather than ignoring it like I usually do. Maybe that will do something.

In reply to Seraphina Martel (msg # 913):

God bless.  And take your time.  We're not a clock here.

Mother shrugs.  "Fish don't have frontal cortexes."

You twirl.  For a moment, just a moment, you think you feel...something.  Some kind of pull.  As if the air wanted you to stop twirling and move that way.  But the moment passes as your twirl revolves.

Mother sighs.  "Look.  It's not something you can master all at once.  You have some time.  Use it.  In the meanwhile, there's something I'd like to talk to you about.  Without your father present.

"Have you considered what you're going to do when you graduate?"

I try to capture the sensation so I can learn what it feels like and, therefore, how to recognize it in the future.

It's the kind of question Mother has never asked before. She has always dictated. I go with it anyway, since she probably has her reasons.

"I thought I wanted to be a hero and change the world for the better. This place makes me think that may require a lot more ruthlessness than I wanted. I've already been tricked into hunting down vigilantes protecting their communities."

In reply to Seraphina Martel (msg # 915):

Mother doesn't have a reaction to that.  Just, after a while, she slowly nods.  Her face remains devoid of any real expression.

"I see.  Well.  The world is complicated.  And you should pursue whatever path you think is best.  I believe in you."

That is the first time Mother has ever said something that positive to you in...ever.

"I want to learn how to use the powers I have to be even stronger, preferably some way to defend myself or combat psychics and other esoteric powers, I-"

I hadn't expected that. I have to just stare for a few seconds.

"I never expected you to support me like that. You've always had a plan for me," I blurt, not knowing what else to say.

In reply to Seraphina Martel (msg # 917):

Mother is quiet a moment.  Her expression, which is always a clean, white slate seems slightly less clean.

"Of course I have a plan for you.  I want you to be the best you can be.

"I don't know of a way, with what you've got, that you can fight psychics.  But there's sure to be a class here at St. George's that teaches basic psychic defense practices.  There are several.  They aren't perfect. But they can help.  Look for coursework that talks about meditation or something equally worthless sounding.

"What kind of esoteric powers are you talking about?"

I clench my fist. "I have to learn how to identify them and defend myself long enough to come here and crush them, at least. When I say esoteric powers, I mean, for example, there was a girl who somehow rode a beam of light and was inside my eye, on that light. That doesn't even make sense. Light doesn't work that way."

"Or maybe I could somehow expand this, all of this," I spread my arms to indicate that we're in Limbo, "to be psychic myself."

In reply to Seraphina Martel (msg # 919):

Mother shakes her head.  "That would be nice, but it won't happen.  Time isn't thought.  It's actual.  You can observe what happens.  And what people do.  But you can't predict what's going to go on inside their heads.

"There's always someone who is outside the norm.  Your father and I had to fight a man who could make candy explode.  The higher the sugar content, the bigger the explosion.  It may sound funny, but it was a nightmare.

"Just keep at it."

Anything else for Mother at the moment?

I've gone my entire life thinking that ghosts weren't real because she told me so, when she  knew that our powers brought us to Limbo, which is full of ghosts. I'm not sure she knows what's possible.

I keep that to myself. I don't entirely trust her anymore.

"I'll do my best, and I'll succeed."

Nothing else! Time for Sera to go the a kung fu master on a mountain somewhere and learn how to be psychic with her ghost powers or whatever. Montage! Or something!

In reply to Seraphina Martel (msg # 921):

You both step out of Limbo.

Father walks forward, lightly tosseling your hair.

"You okay?"

I need to check my notes to remember where we were in terms of Parents Night.  Will post again tomorrow.

"No, but I have hope for the future. I'll get over it." I don't like having my head patted, but Dad is one of about five people tall enough to do that. So I forgive him.

I'm going to have a lot to learn soon.

Mother checks her watch.  "Alright.  Enough standing around.  I'm getting hungry.  Aren't we going to dinner?"

You may have forgotten, what with the near death/I actually trip around in Limbo going on.  But you were going to take your folks out to dinner...



You did want to take them to the medieval reenactment place, right?

Correct! I've been to the Dixie Stampede once. My family sold them a horse that pulled their huge carriage stage thing around. That horse was gigantic.

I affirm that we are, check the appointment, and send Father the directions through our smartphones. Then it's time to get in and go.