Chapter 68 (1/2)

To say that Dan felt ecstatic in the days following The Date was to say that the sun was warm. The world was a brighter, happier place, and he felt like everything was coming up Daniel. Riding this wave of optimism and productivity, he set about accomplishing as many of his errands as possible.

The house was perfect, and it was going to be his. An impulsive decision, sure, but one that he was happy with. His bags were packed, but he wouldn't be finalizing the purchase until an inspection was completed. No sense in buying a house about to fall apart, after all. Margaret had recommended a reliable fellow, so Dan would hopefully have a home within the next week.

His Academy homework was done, all of it. It was fairly straightforward, all told, but the class itself remained informative. Another field trip was in the works, this time for urban rescue, but that was weeks away yet. Dan felt prepared for it, but had a few more ideas he needed to work on regarding his power.

He had sent Graham a fruit basket.

His last errand was of the more exotic variety: building his power. Meditation was his technique of choice, floating silently in the endless abyss of t-space, watching his veil move with his will. Expectation, Marcus had said, was the key to advancement. Expectation, and foundation. Powers needed the rules, the structures, that a conscious mind could give. The Gap was change, and powers were the manifestation of that change, given form and function by sentient thoughts.

So, practice was needed. Both to build his familiarity, and to codify the mechanics of his power. Once he'd hammered out the rules, then he'd work on breaking them.

His veil flicked out like a whip of water, needle-thin and churning. It was only a portion, a tiny percent of the whole, tearing through not-space as fast as Dan could picture it. His veil drained away as the thread extended, depleting faster and faster. He could feel it, if only vaguely, as it stretched to its limits. Like a phantom limb, less a sensation than a vague memory.

Eventually his pool ran dry, and the limb shuddered to a halt. Dan examined his current limit, eyeballing the distance. It was difficult to judge, here in t-space. The laws of physics were... flimsy, at best, existing only when Dan remembered that they existed, or expected them to. It was a distinctly odd experience, to abide in such a malleable reality. Perhaps it was that, which drove men mad, an inability to safely assimilate the chaos inherent to the Gap. Dan could not really feel it, himself. His power was an aegis against all that would harm him, including whatever insanity lurked in the darkness.

But he was losing focus. The filament of his veil extended for roughly two hundred feet, taut and narrow. Dan could feel— not strain, exactly, but rather an emptiness around him. Strangely, he still felt a slight hum of power from inside himself. His veil, that excess energy outside his body, was stretched to its limits. Within him, however, more remained. An inner reservoir.

Well, that only made sense. He was teleporting himself, too, each time he entered t-space. Meaning that his actual transportation limit was double his mass. Could he....? Could he pull from that reservoir?

No. No no no, that was a terrible idea, best saved for life and death emergencies. Dan would not be exploring that option. The last thing he wanted was to arrive at his destination missing a lung or something equally important.

With a mental tug the tendril retracted, snapping back around Dan and collapsing into the familiar sight of his veil. Another minor exertion of will, and the world flickered back into existence. Dan stood in Abby's living room, breathing easily, wearing a smile on his face.

”Welcome back!” an angelic voice greeted him.

Dan turned to meet Abby as she skipped over to him, his grin widening when she flung herself into his embrace. His girlfriend (and that thought still gave him a thrill) wrapped both her arms around his neck, then planted a quick kiss on his cheek. Her face then darted back, avoiding Dan's attempt at something more intimate, but made no effort to remove his hands from her hips.

”Work first, then play,” she teased playfully. Despite her own words, she leaned back in, giving him another quick peck, on his lips this time. ”How'd it go? Learn anything new?”

Dan, doing his best not to pout, dutifully answered, ”It went well. I confirmed a few things that we already suspected.”

Her raised eyebrow prompted him to continue.

”My power doesn't handle distance linearly,” he told her, remembering the distance he covered with his filament. At a comparable thickness to a sewing pin, the thin thread should have extended well past its stopping point. The only conclusion he could draw, was that his power became less effective as it left the vicinity of his body. He suspected it would be even worse here in the material plane; his power propagated poorly through air, which would only compound the problem. That, though, was an entirely separate issue, and one that he did not intend to address quite yet.

Abby hummed at the confirmation. They'd both suspected it, talked about it, even, but this was the first time he'd taken time to confirm it.

”You'll probably have to use the terrain, then,” she advised thoughtfully. She chewed on her bottom lip in a manner that was entirely too distracting. ”Go ahead and try it out. If you put a few holes in my foundation, I can just patch it.”

Dan had learned not to question her, when she made such suggestions. Abby was a blunt person at heart. When she said something, she almost always meant it. So, another thin filament lanced out from his veil. This time, it left from near his feet, burrowing downwards. Rock and gravel, sand and dirt, Dan gained vague impressions of each as his veil passed them. Building materials were dense and heavy, and tightly packed. Good. Dan's power actually seemed to prefer denser objects. It moved faster and smoother through them, though it was still limited by mass. Fortunately, the filament was extremely thin. Not quite as thin as he was capable of, Dan still struggled to manipulate his veil when it was outside his line of sight, but thin enough to reach outside the house, all the way to the street. He grimaced as he felt the tendril grow taut.

”How far do you make it, from here to the edge of the sidewalk?” he asked Abby, while glancing out the closest window facing the road. His power did not come with a built in rangefinder. He could feel roughly where his power ended, but had no idea what the distance actually was.

She followed his gaze, needing only a moment to answer. ”About eighty-seven feet.”

Dan sighed, shaking his head. ”Less than half of what I managed in t-space.” He retracted the probe, it making an almost audible schlorp as it was sucked back into his veil.

”How thin can you make it?” Abby asked curiously.

”Um.” Dan held out his index finger and thumb, keeping them barely apart. ”Pretty damn thin? I can make it thinner, but it's not as easy when I can't see it.”

Abby frowned. ”That's gotta be a visualization problem.”

”Well, yeah, that's what I just said,” Dan replied cheekily, flashing her a roguish grin.

Abby playfully smacked his shoulder. ”You know what I mean! What are you picturing when you control it? I don't think I've ever asked.”

”Um.” Something thin? Dan considered how to phrase his answer in a way which made him sound less like an idiot. ”I picture a rope, or a thread? Like, a really thin one?” That was not the way.

Abby, bless her kind heart, did not laugh in his face. She scratched at the bottom of her chin, humming to herself.

”A rope, huh?” she murmured. Her eyes darted over to Dan, who waited patiently beside her. His hand had not left her hip, and he found himself squeezing down in surprise as she darted in for another kiss. Moments later, she spun away, giggling as she skipped out of the living room.

”Be right back!” she called behind her.

Dan smiled like an idiot, and waited obediently. He couldn't have done anything else.

It was only a few minutes before Abby emerged from the hallway, clutching a short length of thin nylon rope. She bounced over to Dan, and held it up for him to examine. The rope was dyed a bright blue, skinnier than Dan's pinky finger, and had clearly just been cut.

”Picture your power like this,” she ordered in her 'trainer' voice, wiggling the object.