Unforeseen Dives – 19b – Training

<< 19a – Training

Rebecca and Casey’s soothing strength flowed through me and into my voice. I spoke steadily despite the weight of the news.
“Good evening everyone. As some of you might already know, there is a rare genetic malformation that can affect psychics. It causes what we, readers, call “prompt diving”. Basically, it is uncontrolled and frequent forays into the future that put a strain over the mental health of the patient. I just discovered that I’m a prompt diver.
So few of us suffer from it, that it is treated as a great taboo among psychics. I’m revealing my condition along with the creation of a home for people like me. The FBI and Psychic State Department partnered to create a new division inside PSI. Its purpose is to help prompt diver hone their skill in a safe environment and give them the opportunity to put said skill at the service of our country.
As of today, I am the first and only prompt diver in that division. I’m going to test various techniques and, hopefully, find the appropriate training. I hope to be joined by others. I hope to help the psychic community outgrow the taboo so people like me can be supported before it is too late. I hope tonight’s revelation won’t tarnish the regards you have for me.
Thank you for your time. There won’t be any questions tonight.”
I walked off the stage with my friends still holding my hands. Once out of sight, they pulled me into a three people hug.

I sat on the mat, gulping down a bottle of cold water. My muscles hurt. My breath was short. My skin was sweaty. Fighting with Rebecca was a hell of a workout. Our opponents were in as breathless a state as us.
For the past week, my schedule comprised meditation, various experimental diving exercises, “how to behave on a crime scene” classes and hours spent beating down guys with Rebecca. Of the whole thing, only the last two showed results so far. I dived about once a day without any control over it.
The first days, Rebecca and I worked on our synchronized combat techniques, concentrating on pushing further what we had done against Nadina and her accomplice. After that, we started parting occasionally while we fought. Rebecca would implant in me a sequence of moves that my muscles remembered to perform even when my physical contact with her broke. All the while, I picked up some moves of my own, developing some skills if ever I was to be in a fight alone.
Today, our trainer pitted us against two army trained telepaths. All mental walls up, Rebecca couldn’t read them and they couldn’t read her. I, however, was an open book. The first round had us flat on our backs in seconds.
Three rounds later, we worked our way around the problem. Rebecca broadcasted two or three pieces of information at the same time, layering them so our opponents picked up only half of it. We misled them easily and pinned them down three times before they figured it out. They began to dig further into my brain and won another round.
Peeved, Rebecca pushed herself further. I felt a barricade of silence run along the contours of my brain and soon realised that the guys were now as telepathically blind as we were. Their surprise equalled mine. The play field had just been levelled.
We overpowered them fifty percent of the time now. Our teamwork bettered theirs but their training was more extensive. I might have picked up a few tricks during the week but I was still, essentially, a wimp.
“How do you do it?” I asked Rebecca after downing my water.
“Do what?”
“The wall thingy.”
“Yeah! How did you stretch it to her mind?” One of our opponents sat in front of us. Rebecca shrugged and swigged her water.
“I just cranked up the volume of my silence until it blasted loud enough to cover everything.”
“Impressive. It’s so deep beyond thoughts. Your minds must be really opened to each other to achieve that level of sharing.”
“I guess they are.” Rebecca answered in a “please end this conversation” way. She didn’t respond all that well to small talk and flattery. The guy took a hint. Or read her mind. Anyway, he left on a “good job” compliment.
“That’s great but how do you bring up the wall?”
Becky cocked an eyebrow and mulled her answer over a few times.
“I’m not sure I can explain it. It’s a natural thing for telepaths. We learn to control it young and strengthen it during adolescence.”
“Could you try to teach me?”
“Teach you? You could never keep a telepath out of your brain.”
“That’s not what I want to keep out. I want to keep the Ocean from pulling me in.”
Surprised, Rebecca thought it through then nodded. She moved to sit in front of me. Her hands held mine.
“Close your eyes and do that meditation stuff.”
I emptied my brain and concentrated on hers. Suddenly, the texture of her thoughts changed. She had completely dropped her wall. I discovered a whole new Rebecca. Not in character or content but the flavor of her mind wasn’t quite the same. She never completely dropped her wall.
She built it up again, slowing down a process that took her seconds so I could feel it unfold. A filter appeared between her brain and mine. Not a barrier, per se. It felt more like another frequency, like white noise glazed over her thoughts. No, that wasn’t it; it was a mute. As seconds passed, the filter strengthened until I was completely shot out of her brain. She released it to broadcast to me.
“It’s like drawing the covers around your brain to make it comfy and safe. At first, you’ll have to consciously think about it and use a part of your concentration to maintain it. If you can do it, eventually it might become a reflex. Try it.”
I deepened my breath, relaxed everything and attempted to wrap my brain in my favorite baby blanket.

20a – Omen >>