#mindwalkers

Excerpt from “The Mindwalkers: A Brief History of Public Embarrassment” (circa 1999 reissue)

The Mindwalkers Division has never been a stranger to controversy. From the ethical minefield of recruiting psychic middle-schoolers for national defense to more mundane scandals — such as the now-infamous Mindwalkers Monthly issue “Mind Over Body, Body Over Mind?” — the Bureau has a long record of self-inflicted wounds. Released sometime in 1987 (likely before the untimely passing of Dr. Sabine Leeren, who by all accounts would have never approved of such material), the issue featured twenty-year-old operative Paul A. in a neat blue jumpsuit, legs folded elegantly skyward. The pose was supposedly meant to demonstrate “psychophysical fitness.” Paul himself once described it, unhelpfully, as his “human pretzel pose.”

Unfortunately, the caption — “1987’s Most Dangerous Position: The Mindwalker’s Seat” — sent readers into moral panic. The anonymous editor, who has since retreated into decades of obscurity, insisted the article was meant to illustrate the “rigorous training demands placed on our youth operatives.” Whatever further justification followed was immediately lost to history (and likely to the shredder). At the time, the Mindwalkers were already the subject of wild conspiracy theories: accusations of psychic misconduct, government cover-ups, and, bizarrely, a rumored “esoteric brotherhood of the body” due to the Division’s overwhelmingly male roster. The image of young Paul, all flexibility and federally sanctioned innocence, only fanned those flames.

The fallout arrived in an avalanche of angry faxes: “Paul A. should be ashamed before God and country,” wrote one. Another demanded, “Burn every remaining copy!” Yet, amidst the outrage, a few unsettlingly affectionate letters appeared. “I taped the picture to my mirror before training,” confessed one admirer. Another observed approvingly, “He doesn’t look like government property.” (He was, of course, very much government property.) Today, surviving copies of the issue are considered collector’s items or evidence, depending on who you ask.

Curious yet? The truth’s between the lines — read Inter Lineas.

We have finally gotten back to Vas’Noth to discover the full extent of the tragedy.  As we marched through the streets, there were no banners or victory songs.  The crowd that met us on the streets was somber.  Was it because we were so few?  No it is because we were not the only casualties of the battle.  The Spirit of Darkness had moved upon the land. It screamed in the minds of the MindWalkers; and they fell, destroyed by it to their children and their children's children.

Darkness had come to Narn.

The upper circles of Vas’Noth were deserted.  Every MindWalker that had come to the battle had family.  And they were all dead.  The scream went through the Na’firiki system and killed them all, the whole family network.  Only a few Healers and Seers were left, thank the gods for those who needed their care.  I left G’Lan in the Temple of D’Bok.  I went on to the palace.

The palace was Death.  I had not realized how many people inside its walls were MindWalkers, but they were all dead.  The smell of decay pervaded the place.

The MindWalkers were a key, but a key to what?

There is no government on Narn.  It was dead.  What are we to do?

Even as I was wondering what could be done, I was being asked the same question.  We had to remove the dead from the city.  There is no way to honor them appropriately.  There are just too many dead.  I asked the able to remove the dead from the palace, from the Circles of Vas’Noth.  The dead were stacked like cord wood outside of the city.  We will have to dig pits.  The dead must be buried or disease will kill the rest of us.  I ordered the men to dig. 

Maybe keeping them busy will help. 

The Warleader asked me to help him survey the city.  We needed to assess the damage to the government.  We needed an idea of the extent of the carnage. 

This is not me.  Why have I become someone to ask for guidance and look at damage?  Because I am the companion of G’Lan?  Obviously I am supposed to take care of these things while he is injured.  It is preposterous.  I am a farmer.  I cannot make these decisions.  Yet every one of them seemed easier than the last.  They need someone to direct them.  I may be an imperfect vessel, but I am making decisions.

The Market, so busy before I left, was quiet.  People who normally would be hawking wares sit at their booths in sullen silence.  People buy their requirements and hide.  Who can blame them?  “And with dreams comes Death,” the voice said.  Now, death comes from nowhere.  How can you fight something you cannot see, that you cannot prepare for?

Tza’Vin was there.  He still smiled.  How could any Narn smile on this day? 

It has been several days since I said my goodbyes to my brother outside the village.  Ni’Urlota and I have walked along the roads to the MindWalker village of Nor’Wal-eth.  The urlot has been very useful along my trail.  Not only did I have the milk for my own use, I was able to trade milk for a talith.  After several days of salted groute, this was a welcome change.  I considered buying some talith from the farmer on the way home.  They are easy to raise and the eggs would be a welcome addition to the family diet.

I had not been in Nor’Wal-eth since I was young.  My mother had brought me and my brother prior to our naming day.  In many ways it reminded me of the Temple of Vas.  The first thing I noticed was the open square with a beautiful fountain.  The mist created a glittering aura around the goddess D’Bok that brought tears to my eyes.

I was interrupted in my contemplation of the goddess by a hearty voice behind me.  “Ho, young farmer, you must be G’Quan with my tarlek-eth.”

I turned to see a sturdy Narn male dressed in the robes of a Seer.  I started to bow and he laughed and stopped my progress.  “G’Quan, that is not necessary.  I am your mother’s pouch brother and your obeisance would get me haunted by that very strong minded lady for sure.”

I was taken aback.  I did not know that my mother was related to Seers.  Neither she nor my father ever mentioned any relations in Nor’Wal-eth.  “My mother?” I said haltingly.

“The Lady Mi’Terida was my sister.  She went with your father, bonded with him and raised you and your brother, G’Qual until her death.  Of course, you knew she was not a farmer’s daughter.”

My mother and her ways now stood in stark contrast to my father and the way of the farmer.  She had been raised in the Third Circle.  Her education and delicacy was so alien to my Tenth Circle upbringing.  “Why?” I asked.

“Only she knew.  She was adamant that he was the one she was to bond with and she would have no other.  Your father felt honored by her choice and never questioned her reasoning.”

“So my tarlek-eth?” I asked.  “Did you order it only to have me bring it?”  I felt like I had lost something.

“Oh, we do need your fruit and are happy that you chose to harvest it.  I am personally happy that you chose this path because I had wanted to see my sister’s son.”  He looked at me as if trying to find my mother in my form.  “Come.” he said finally. “Let’s take care of the primary business of unloading your tarlek-eth and giving your urlot some rest and food.  I am sure you would enjoy a bath to remove the road from your back.  Please stay with me and my family for a few days.  We have so much to talk about.”

He led me a way in a daze.  Now I have a pouch of money like I have never seen.  Ni’Urlota is happily stowed with more food and water than she has probably had all of her days.  I am still slightly damp from a bath wearing my … uncle’s robes feeling so strange.