Excerpt from "Can I Fly"
Walking is inefficient. I pity my human cousins for relying
on it. I dream of the day I can drift with elegance through clouds, into the
starry sky. I wish we were allowed to explore further into the Universe, beyond
our Celestial Spheres. But today is a start, today I can show my potential to
the teachers, so I may be certified to fly the lower skies unchaperoned.
Every time I manage to use my
powers, nobody looks. They stare through me. But when I fail, they all notice.
“He’s only a young boy,” they say. “Who cares about a novice
Potent? We’re god-like compared to
him!”
Will they notice me at noon, during my flying ability examination
at the Adolescent Trials? I hope so.
I put on my black sky-suit, which will prevent forbidden use
of technology during the test. Dad used technology, before he was banished.
Waving goodbye to mother and my infant brother Darik, I take one small step on the
long road from breast toward adulthood. A path set from birth for my kind.
Leaving our single roomed cave-hut, I walk along the dusty track
to school. Fresh air mixes with pungent fog from the ore-mines. I may require a
respirator if it gets much worse. At least I have the luxury of one, unlike the
group of mindless human miners that pass
me. Their paler skin and lighter eyes is a sign of their lower position in
society.
Walking is inefficient. I pity my human cousins for relying
on it. I dream of the day I can drift with elegance through clouds, into the
starry sky. I wish we were allowed to explore further into the Universe, beyond
our Celestial Spheres. But today is a start, today I can show my potential to
the teachers, so I may be certified to fly the lower skies unchaperoned.
The fog clears. I arrive at the tall crystalline building
which pierces the uneven stony ground, framed by ceremonial fires diffusing
spices. My examiners greet me. A group of six teachers from another school, in
crisp red judge’s gowns – seasoned warriors passing on their ancient skills,
their formality is intimidating, but predictable.
Practice at school and holographic simulations at home as
part of my initial training, taught me what to expect. But as I stand on the carved
triangular marker, their experienced faces cancel out my confidence and my
recollection of how to fly evaporates. After all these years waiting, I am
doing this, I have the audience I always craved, but it frightens me.
Distant stringed music, which could sooth under other
circumstances, distracts me; I must focus. But the more I try to ignore the
gentle tones, the harder they penetrate into my head.
“Ready young one?” a vibrant, dark skinned Potent Lady says.
I nearly jump in shock. This feels rushed now.
“Show us you are controlled and capable. Whether
you are ready to progress to full training? Now fly!”
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