The seer E-Book

Szalai László

• Herausgeber: novum publishing
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 371

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2025

Beschreibung

Thomas Taylor is a young English man born with a special gift: he can see people's auras. After having his childhood hints of this rejected even by his parents, he began to hide it from the outside world. But one day, he meets a strange and terrifying stranger and his life is in danger. Everything around him is turned upside down: his flight from his seemingly unworldly pursuer takes him to previously unknown places and among other strangers. His newfound friends show him a fantastic new purpose in life, one that, if he accepts, he will have to give up his old life completely. Will Thomas be able to die for the outside world and his family in order to live and fight the alien forces exploiting the people of his home planet?

Leseprobe

Introduction

The grey clouds cover England's shores with darkening darkness, the cruel waves of the ocean smearing the long-aged, fragmented rocks. The storm-tossed shores of Cornwall are battered by worn planks - perhaps the remains of a stranded fishing boat, crushed mercilessly by the elements. The high shore watches the slowly passing storm with a face impassive, only the plants that inhabit the plateau shake their bodies, almost lying on the ground, as if they are just raving to the satanic music of nature in a mad concert. The darkness is broken with increasing frequency by striking, long zigzags of bluish-purple lightning, followed by deep, rumbling thunder. The dazzling orgy of light is followed by a gigantic crackling sound that intensifies by the minute. You can almost feel that it has struck nearby; perhaps in a paralysed, storm-ravaged tree, or in the lightning rod of a church tower.

Not far from the foaming ocean lies a small town - hardly a settlement - where a woman is in labour in a tiny hospital. Nurses run up and down the wards. Worried, they scramble in the shadow of the storm, trying to do their best not to be seriously disrupted by the doomsday. Mary, a woman in her thirties with a baby on the way, her beautiful long curly hair burying half the pillow under her, her forehead beaming as she waits to hold her baby in her arms.

The contractions are becoming more frequent. The nurse on duty also turns to the bedside more and more often, gathering information, reassuring the mother, "Don't worry, dear, everything will be fine."

The amniotic fluid has already broken and the obstetrician is busy preparing to deliver the baby. It's only a matter of minutes before the baby cries.

A deafening, terrible crack, and everything goes black: lightning has struck the small hospital building. Tiny, flickering electrical discharges run up and down the instruments next to the mother's bed, while the generator in the engine room, dormant, reacts to the blackout and slowly spins up, supplying the building with electricity, bringing light back into the wards. Mary was very frightened: she felt the elemental force of the lightning in her whole body, the discharges stabbing her through the back of her head. The next moment, the thought of how the little thing in her belly was bearing up, "She's going to be all right, isn't she?!

Her sister runs into the ward, bustling around her bedside, her soothing words bringing good news:

- It's all right, my dear, it's time, the doctor will be here in a moment!

And so it happens: within minutes you are there, dressed and ready to deliver.

- All right, lady, push, breathe deep, push! You're almost out, very good, push! And there it is! Little boy! Congratulations, ma'am. He's a beautiful little boy.

While the doctor examines Mary, the nurses clean and care for the little one, wrap her in a soft cloth and place her in the new mother's hands. Mary's face still shows the wrinkles of exertion, but tears of joy are already rolling from her eyes, and her smile says it all: happy, infinitely happy. As she clasps her hands around her, her cheek touches her tiny head, her eyes close - now she can rest.

One of the nurses leans over, admiring the little thing.

- Beautiful little boy! Do you have a name yet?

Mary thinks for a moment, then whispers softly with sparkling eyes:

- Thomas, his name is Thomas Taylor, like his father. Unfortunately he can't be here now, he's working far out at sea.

The nurse turns to her colleague who is doing the paperwork: the child's name is Thomas Taylor, 3750 grams, 53 cm, date of birth: 19 September 1991, 21 hours 12 minutes.

Mother's name is Mary O'Brien, father's name is Thomas Taylor.

Despite the stress of the storm and the scare, little Thomas was born perfectly healthy. After a few days, they were able to go home to their small house in the suburbs.

Tom's baby years were completely average. His parents did everything they could to ensure his healthy development, and although his father was home very little, he was able to earn a very small income from crabbing. As a housewife, Mary was able to spend a lot of time with the little one. He started walking at thirteen months and talking like a normal child from the age of two. But his eyes, they were dazzling. Everyone noticed how special those eyes were: greenish-blue, no bigger than normal, yet somehow with a greater depth, as if they were cut from a rare crystal. It felt good to look into her smiling eyes. Walking through the square, her friends and acquaintances always got the chance to soak in the sparkle of Tom's eyes. Thomas had grown up nicely, a very sociable and direct little boy in his kindergarten years: if he looked at someone, he somehow knew he could talk to them, whether they were a child or an adult. It was when he was learning colours that he began to notice a strange behaviour in his mother's child. Whoever he asked about or spoke to, he associated a colour with everyone. Mary explained to him a number of times that he shouldn't do that, that people could misunderstand the meaning of colours. Of course, Tom did see those colours, and it wasn't until he was a little boy that he was able to articulate what he was really seeing, why he said what he said when he was a little boy. Miss Jude, the teacher, emitted clouds of yellow and pink; Principal Frank, red and blue; Aunt Kathy at the corner bakery, orange and purple.

For a long time he didn't understand why this was, and that he was the only one who could see it, but it was only when he reached adolescence that he began to understand what it was he was seeing. He sees people's auras, which are different for everyone, and the shades of colour they show depend on their character. He noticed that the aura of kind, good-natured acquaintances was pleasantly bright, and the thicker it was, the better-hearted the person. The same is true of malevolent people, but the colour range is different: they radiate a dark, angry colour. It's like seeing a sluggish flame enveloping the human body, or a miniature version of the aurora borealis, in different colours.

Tom's parents never knew where to put this strange ability of their child's, and whether he was really seeing what he said he was seeing or if it was just his imagination, but they thought that if they didn't talk about it, it might go away, grow out of him, and they would never hear about it again. Because his parents had often scolded him when he was a child for talking about the colours he saw, he kept it to himself for many years, telling no one what he saw and thought about it; he didn't even share this special secret with his best friend. He was afraid he would not accept it and would lose his childhood playmate Joe. However, when she wanted to make friends, choosing new friends became much easier, because although children had not yet developed a personality, the colours of their aura told her whether good or bad character was dominant.

His childhood was a balanced and loving one, even though his parents were not wealthy, nor could they have been described as wealthy. Their income came only from crabbing and Mary's home sewing shop, which sometimes brought in a good income, sometimes just enough to live on. Tom, being a good student, loved school and his teachers, and regularly helped his deserving classmates with their studies. This made his father very happy; he was really proud, because he always hoped that his beloved son would not have to choose a profession as dangerous as the one he had, and would have a chance of going to college and getting a well-paid, secure job. After leaving the local grammar school, he continued his studies in London, secretly hoping that his hidden talent would one day be of use. But he didn't yet know how he would do it.

In London, the sun shines on seven branches in May, warming the breakfast table. It's nearly eight o'clock. The smell of bacon frying permeates every corner of the small flat in the attic, perhaps even making the neighbour's stomach churn with the divine aroma wafting through. Tom prepares his clothes, cleans up after himself in the kitchen, then sits down at the table to eat his breakfast, listen to the morning news on the television, and think about his day, what he has to get done, in order of priority. There's no rush to get to work: she's taken the day off. Sometimes you need to get out of the treadmill and relax a bit. His seemingly slightly morbid obsession with order means that even his rest days are planned with precision, and he even eats his breakfast according to a set pattern and at a set time. Everywhere you look in the small apartment, you'll find a clock showing the exact time - even in the middle of the dining table. After a hearty breakfast, he tidies up, gets dressed, picks up his small bag and sets off. The first destination is the British Library, then shopping and buying vitamins for his mother, which he will take to her on him short visit home this weekend.

Stepping out onto the street on a typical working day, the sight of so many passers-by rushing to work - all those colours, shades and radiations - strains Tom's vision every time. In the safety of his home, in front of the television, he cannot see these lights, he is not distracted by them, although he cannot draw any conclusions about the actual qualities of the person on the air: whether they are good, bad or trustworthy. He is used to concentrating on the objects, the journey, and looking past the people when he has to travel, shop or do something in a crowd. In many places, this is almost impossible to do, such as the subway underpass, escalators and trains.

He also had to learn not to trigger any reaction when talking to a stranger, in case their aura contained colours he had already identified and knew the character of. On the metro, it's hard not to stop looking around; it's true that in today's world, almost everyone is tapping away on their smartphone, oblivious to the gaze that spies them. Only the elderly prefer to read a newspaper, listen to the radio or music, but they don't spy on their fellow travellers. They rarely raise their heads when a few young people raise their voices or a drunk starts a row. You can pass through the city invisibly if you don't attract the attention of others. Tom likes the metro: punctual and reliable; just like him.

You are approaching the entrance to the library. It's almost 9:30, and that's when it opens. He likes to arrive at opening time: there are few visitors, no crowds, no need to avoid people. Once inside the library, Thomas looks for a terminal: he knows exactly what he wants to find. For his own work, he is self-consciously collecting material on human behaviour and socialisation. He types in the term he is looking for and the computer lists the writings, books and authors related to the term.

- Here we go!" he says quietly, then quickly writes down the route on a piece of paper. He pours himself a drink and then goes in search of books he would like to look through, to mine them for knowledge that might be useful in his work. Tom works for a consulting firm that provides business, personal and relationship advice, personal counselling to help people make good decisions.

It's a big library, I must say, without guidance it would be almost impossible to find anything here. You've reached your destination, you just have to find the books you're looking for on the shelves.

- And there you have it!" he says, then, with two books in his hands, he finds a reading table and sits down. He quickly immerses himself in his writing, sometimes taking notes, sometimes using the internet on his mobile phone. He's been rummaging through the pages here on the 'island of tranquillity' for an hour when he gets a strange feeling. He cannot identify the cause or the source of this unease; he simply feels that something is not right. Less and less able to concentrate on what he is reading, he glances up and down, head slightly bowed, taking in the people around him. To his left, not far away, two students are busily poring over the books in front of them. Average young people, with a pleasantly coloured aura, not the sort of people to be afraid of, he doesn't spy on them any further. His gaze is fixed on the woman reading behind them. She is a pretty young woman, though he can see at once from her glow that she has a troubled character. He has met similar girls in his life, but they have only caused him pain, disappointment in a budding relationship. Nor can she cause him this unpleasant, inexplicable feeling. To his right, a few yards away, an elderly man reads, with a soothing light and sadness - perhaps he has recently lost the partner in his life. A little beyond the uncle, a young, tall man with glasses is rummaging around - maybe a medical student, maybe some other doctoral candidate, but he's okay. Tom also takes stock of those further away, and one by one, with his deep insight, tries to decipher the cause of his unease. He's okay... he's slick, but he's okay. The middle-aged lady, yes, she's fine too.

The man in the black coat! He... What the...!?

Tom immediately looks down: he is frightened by what he sees, confused, trying to understand and interpret what he sees. He does not understand. He stands up with his open book, hiding his face behind it, and in alarm, he puts his thoughts in order. He still doesn't know where to put what he has seen, he has to look at it again. Slowly, fearfully, he lifts his eyes from the cover of the book and the man in the black coat appears. He is wearing a black leather jacket with a black T-shirt underneath. He's about 6 ft tall, strong build, white man with black hair, but she's never seen anything like it: his aura is black! It's as if he's got soot flames running through him! He is holding something in his hand, perhaps a newspaper or a catalogue, and his gaze is fixed on it. He can already feel the uneasy feeling radiating from it, no doubt. He tries to focus on his face, to see what it is he sees. His eyes, he wants to see his eyes! He wonders how he could get closer from fifteen estimated metres away; he lacks the fine details. Thomas doesn't take his eyes off the man and is already planning the route of his approach, when suddenly the man fixes his gaze on Tom, gazing into his eyes, the black eyes seeming to penetrate his consciousness.

Tom is terrified, shaking with fear, he grabs his notes, his pen, his books, grabs his bag and hurries towards the exit. He's halfway there, but he has to look back to see how the man reacts to his departure. He looks behind him, but he is nowhere to be seen. His steps do not slow, but quicken: he wants to leave the building as soon as possible. He is about to reach the main entrance, looks back again, but sees no sign of the 'black coat'.

Finally you get out on the street. Now you can slow down a bit, head for the metro station. His heart is pounding so hard he can almost hear it, not just feel it. He, who doesn't like crowds, is beginning to feel safe among the passers-by. A red light stops him at a pedestrian crossing, on the other side is the railway station, and beyond that, the metro station. The light is about to turn green, Tom looks back once more. His eyes scan the people, and his gaze is caught as a pair of black eyes stare straight into his eyes, as if looking deep into them. The man in the black coat stands a few feet away, like a predator that never loses sight of its prey. Tom shrinks. Fear overcomes him again. Luckily for him, traffic stops dead in its tracks. He knows the light's about to turn green, but he can't wait: he rushes through the crosswalk. The man scrambles towards the road and then goes after his prey. Tom, seeing that he is indeed being chased, changes direction to run through the train station. He glances back and forth: his pursuer is running after him, not slowing down at all. He would speed up, but his strength is limited. He is no athlete, but fear is the master: he runs through the station, dodging people with suitcases, looking for the nearest exit.

What the hell does it want from me? Why is it chasing me? - These are the questions that seek answers in him panting being. Do I know him? Or does he know me? He reaches the exit, turns slightly to the right, crosses the roadway, through the square, where he might shake off his pursuer by zigzagging through the people. Across the square, he glances back for a moment - his position has not improved. The black-eyed one is just around the corner. Dodging passers-by gives Tom a slight advantage, but he can't shake him. He has no choice but to run as long as he can. He dashes through a row of old tenement blocks, through diners and cafes, then turns the next corner to see if he can find a good escape route before he loses all his strength. When he reaches the corner, he suddenly has to change his plan: the small street is almost completely deserted, with hardly any vehicles or cover. He must sprint on towards the next corner. You must look behind you! The man is still on his tail. Just make sure there's an open doorway! You're not following him there? Tom feels himself slowing down, his strength running out, when a figure suddenly emerges from behind the cover of a parked van, grabs his left arm and pulls him through a half-open gate. He tries to resist as he is dragged, but the figure speaks softly:

- Let me help! This way! Quickly! I'll help you!

Tom doesn't have much choice. For some reason he believes her; perhaps because the voice is a woman's and it suggests security. It's a girl, but he doesn't have time to look. She drags him into a cellar doorway. Suddenly they stop, she looks around, extends her right arm in front of her, then with a quick, twisting movement, something more energetic, projects an oval, vibrating image in front of her. Tom freezes, not realizing what is happening. The girl moves towards the flickering image, holding Tom's arm tightly, and they step through the grey-blue, upright, egg-shaped "hologram". Quick footsteps can be heard on the basement stairs. The black-eyed man reaches it, but finds no one there. He spies briefly in the empty basement corridor, looking for clues, but when he finds none, he turns and leaves.

When she lets go of Tom's arm, he sees that they have not come down to this cellar, but are in a completely different place.

- "But... how?" he asks the girl, who is scanning the rest of the cellar to see if anyone is down there.

- Clear!" She replies. "You're safe now. For now...

- "Who are you?" asks Tom. "And how do you mean 'for now'?

- It is not known to what extent he could identify you. It's only a matter of time before he knows everything about you. If you're lucky, you'll have left few traces and he won't find you. She rushes for the exit, and by the time Tom wakes up, his rescuer is gone. He hasn't even had a good look at her, even though he still has many, many questions in his mind that remain unanswered. Cautiously, he leaves the cellar behind, steps out into the street, trying to figure out where he is.

He found himself about five streets away. His heart is still pounding, his breathing is slowly calming down, only his thoughts are still racing; he's completely disoriented. He, who has planned every minute, every move, is at a complete loss as to how to adapt to this situation.

What should I do? Report it to the police? But what? If he told anyone, they would think he was a fool, they wouldn't believe him.

My bag, my wallet... I've got everything! Relieved, he starts looking for public transport. The metro is the way back, don't take that... the bus is the way to go! A new agenda begins to form in his head, step by step. Shopping, vitamins, and home! He's caught up a little, his comfort zone is starting to recover: he's walking up the stairs with a bag in his hand - containing groceries and vitamins for his mother: he's finally home, he can rest. He's exhausted, not from shopping, but from watching him constantly to make sure he doesn't run into the black-eyed man he's been unable to get out of him head. He has just put away his shopping, turns to the table and reaches for his phone when the balcony door is pushed in. He immediately glances over at the small creak. He almost screams, but she's standing in the doorway. His brain immediately cancels the execution of the shout. She holds her index finger to her mouth and slowly enters the room.

- They found you. Get your coat and follow me. - she says quietly, and steps back onto the balcony. - Hurry up!

Tom hesitates. Why should he believe her? Then there is a loud knock on the front door.

- Here it is! Come on! - she calls. - No more time!

Tom grabs his coat, phone, wallet - good thing he didn't take his shoes off when he got home. He follows her out onto the balcony, she's already over the railing, and he turns back and holds out his arm.

He takes her hand and follows her closely from one roof to the other.

Meanwhile, someone opens the apartment door with an universal, special electric key. Slowly, the "black-eyed one" enters. He immediately notices that the man he is looking for has already left the apartment via the balcony. He doesn't run after him, but rather inspects the contents of the apartment, looking for useful information. He looks through the family photos on the shelf, the letters, Thomas's laptop - which, despite being password protected, he has already cracked in a flash using a thumb drive. He copies data and photos, and after a few minutes he leaves the apartment.

Tom and the girl arrive at a flat roof at the end of the terraced house, where they come to a well-hidden corner behind a firewall. The girl puts her right arm out, looks quickly around to see if anyone can see them, and opens the portal.

Tom is still frozen by what has happened. He wants to ask, but she grabs his arm and pulls him into the passage. This portal jump isn't particularly spectacular - no wormhole-like tunnel - they're simply crossing from one place to another. But it's all so magical! He finds himself in an apartment where she seems to be at home: she picks up a pen and paper from a desk and walks over to Tom.

- Use your mobile phone to write down your most important contacts, because you can't use it to make calls. They know your number; if you use it, they'll know where you are immediately.

- What is this all about, why are they persecuting me? I didn't do anything! Where are you taking me? - Tom asks.

- Do it! We don't have time! I'll explain everything later, but for now, do as I say!

Tom picks up the pen, opens his mobile phone, starts taking notes. Nervously, his precise writing shows almost nothing now - it's good to be able to read what he's writing. He finishes in a few minutes. He jots down a few names and numbers, then speaks to her in a slightly timid voice:

- I'm ready.

The athletic little lady moves around the room dynamically: switching on computers, checking images from cameras. She walks over to Tom, takes the phone and places it in the middle of an interesting device, which immediately goes into action. Tom tries to speak, but only a short voice escapes his throat. The device grabs the phone, a suction cup dips onto the screen, and in seconds little robotic arms open it up as if it were a tin can. Precision, delicate little tools disconnect its battery from the motherboard in a few movements. As soon as the device finishes its task, she takes it out, puts it in a case and hands it back to Tom.

- Here you go. I bet you thought I was gonna break it, but now you don't have to. Put it away, you'll need it.

- Okay, I guess, thank you - and then he slips his phone into his jacket pocket, still watching the girl in the urgent hurry. The time finally seems right to take a good look at her. Her blonde-brown hair is braided and reaches down to the middle of her back, her sky-blue eyes gleam beautifully in the lamplight. Her athletic build shows that she is extremely flexible and dynamic, with a strong personality. But what really amazes you is her aura. It's something eye-catching, dazzling and flashing in all the colours of the rainbow. Perhaps that's why she came with him so obediently. Tom had never seen anything like it, so colourful and beautiful.

- Who are you? And where have you brought me? - She does some more maths on the computers, then walks over to Tom.

- You're in a safe house, that's all you need to know. Here we'll figure out what you need to do, although it seems they've learned a lot about you. So it won't be easy.

- But why is he chasing me? What does want from me? Who is he? I didn't do anything!

- It is not that simple. You are special for some reason, different from other people, so you can be a danger to them.

- Me? Danger? And to whom?

- We'll get to that later. Whoever's after you, Frenk, is a collector. Let's find out why he wants you. What makes you different from the others? I need to know!

- Maybe it's because I see... I see colorful lights on people that others don't. But I've never told anyone that before.

- So you claim to see people's auras?

- Well, yes, I think I can see that.

- Bingo! Frenk's scanner reacted to this, so he wants to collect.

- Who the hell is this Frenk? Some kind of secret agent? Or a government man? And... what kind of scanner?

She turns to Tom, puts both hands on his face, looks deep into his eyes. It is only then that he sees that she is wearing high-tech glasses with projected coloured lines, numbers and figures.

- And really, it is your "seeing" ability that makes you want to collect! - Her scanner also confirmed this difference from other ordinary people. I'm Casey. Make yourself comfortable, we're gonna be here a while. I'll tell you everything you need to know later.

Meanwhile, he takes a small bottle of water from the fridge and holds it out to Tom.

- Thank you, Casey. How long do I have to stay here?

- I still need to find out how much information Frenk has on you. This will take some time, because I can only access his database when he uploads or downloads data, or communicates with his controller.

- Who is this Frenk?

- Do you want to hear the easy story or the reality? I'm not sure the truth is believable to you.

- Please, let's give the truth a try instead!

- Okay! Then sit down and try to take in everything you hear. Frenk is not human, he's a bio-drone, he's been developed for collection tasks. He's in London to seek out and collect people with similar, strange abilities. Some he makes disappear; some he drives into accidents, and some he's taken to the control room where no one has ever returned. You've been lucky enough to have average human qualities and you've been able to run it down. If he caught up with you and touched your skin anywhere, you would get a hypnotic command in your mind to do as he said. I have never seen anyone resist it. If he touches you, even through a T-shirt, it's over. Then there's nothing I can do.

- And who are you? Why are you helping me when you don't even know me?

- Actually, I'm not helping you. My job is to keep an eye on Frenk and prevent his collection operations.

- I don't know what to believe. Frenk seemed very human, apart from the glow I saw around him.

- But it's not human, it was made for this task, bio-drone technology. Outwardly, it is completely human-like, and even feeds, like a human, but it has no consciousness of its own: it receives instructions from the controller and its only purpose is to perform the task.

- And who do you work for?

- Sorry... Frenk is connecting to the network right now! - He quickly launches the monitoring program on his computer and waits for the data to load.

- Almost there... there it is!

Tom watches with anxious interest; he waits to see what Frenk has found out about him, since he considers himself a grey little man, and feels that there is almost no record of him. Never a penalty, never a late payment or complaint.

- So... you were born in Cornwall, Penzance, on 19 September 1991, mother Mary O'Brien, father Thomas Taylor, address 72/a Border street, Newlyn. I see here that you're travelling there tomorrow morning to visit your mum. Frenk's planning an itinerary for tomorrow, he's going to visit your parents.

- "What?" he looks at her, frightened and puzzled. "How??

- Here I see that you left clues in your apartment, notes, and downloaded the contents of your laptop. We need to get to Newlyn, get ahead of Frenk.

- By car, the journey takes six hours, depending on traffic. Can't you get me there the way you got me here?

- Sorry, but using a space shifter is not that easy. He displays a map of Britain on a large screen, plans the route to Newlyn and studies the result. His mind's racing, looking for something.

- I think I have the solution! I can only use the space shifter where I have been and have created a jump point with a "safe" rating. Since I've never been to Newlyn, we can't jump there. However, I've been to Plymouth, I have a safe jump point there, and we go on from there by car. That will buy us some time, because Frenk can only use public transport. Since you planned to take the 6.20am bus, Frenk will take the 5am to get there before you.

- Then we will arrive at about 13.30. How much of an advantage can we have?

- 4-5 hours I think. But we have to jump now; it's much safer at night.

- This jump thing... I'm still in awe of it. Is this some kind of secret military stuff? Or NASA technology? I read it was impossible to do, yet I see it works!

- Don't think about it, because it's not terrestrial technology. Let's get ready, we have to go slowly.

Casey opens a hidden box containing a large amount of cash. He takes out a bundle of pounds and a wad of euros, then puts it in the inside pocket of his vest.

- What do you mean by "non-terrestrial technology"?

- Get ready! There's sandwiches and drinks in the fridge and an empty backpack in the corner. Do it!

- All right, I'm doing it!

While Tom is packing from the fridge, Casey takes out a sling bag that looks like a tool sling, crossed with a couple of small belt pouches. There are lots of interesting tools in there, but they don't look like tools, more like instruments. Tom turns to Casey, looks him in the eye and asks in a shaky voice:

- Could something bad happen to my mum?

- I cannot tell you for sure. So far, there has been no example of him hurting a target's family member, but he can manipulate them. We want to prevent that. You ready?

- Yes, I'm fine.

Casey switches hers supercomputer into hidden mode, the secret compartments close, the lights go out, and only the night lights flicker in the room. Stopping in the middle of the room, she turns her right forearm up and adjusts something on the device on it, which activates a small holographic projector. It projects various signs and inscriptions in three dimensions; as if holding a pile of light-dessert in front of it, it picks and chooses between the goodies. One quick movement and the wonder is gone. Tom would have watched for a while longer, a little enchanted by the sight, though no matter how hard he strained his eyes, he could not see a familiar word, not even a familiar letter, among the lines and icons.

- Take my hand! - she holds out her left arm to Tom, and with her other arm she opens the portal in front of her. Tom takes her hand, his eyes peering into the portal, which is now a much brighter colour, a shade of purple. Casey runs another search, checking that the jump is safe.

- "Come on!" and she steps through the portal, pulling Tom with her, who still can't quite believe what's happening - as if it's all just a strange dream. As they step through the oval-shaped 'door', they find themselves in a dark, basement-like space. The walls are dark grey concrete, and from the soffit and the sight of cars parked a little further away, he immediately realises it's a car park, and not a small one.

- Follow me closely! If anyone sees you, just smile like we're a couple.

They slowly make their way out of the car park, no one has noticed them.

- Are we really in Plymouth now? Unbelievable!

- This is the Plymouth Theatre car park. We need to find a motel for the night.

- Okay, you're the boss! - Tom begins to relax, to dissolve.

- I know you have lots of questions, and you will get many of them answered, but first let's find a place to stay. We'll leave in the morning.

- Cassandra Guest House! Not far away, I've been there once.

- Can you find it? Or should I ask for a navigator?

- Of course. It's dark, but the streets are familiar; we should head towards the bay.

- Okay, show the way!

A few streets down you will find the hotel. They go in, approach the reception desk, where a nice middle-aged lady greets them:

- Good evening, how can I help you?

- We'd like a double room, just for tonight. If possible, a balcony.

- I'm looking... yes, we have a first floor double room with a balcony! I'll give you the keys. Would you like to pay now or on departure?

- I'm paying now, in cash.

- All right, fill it in here, please, while I get a towel. Breakfast is served in the dining room from half past six in the morning. Here's the key and the two towels.

- Casey leaves the money on the counter, takes the key and Thomas takes the towels. After they enter the room, she looks around, taking a good look at the windows and balcony.

- It's quite friendly.

- I think so. I was here a couple of years ago, and it was.

- Grab a sandwich, have a bite to eat before bed. I'll take a quick shower and we can talk. You're not allowed to touch my stuff, you could cause serious trouble.

- "I understand, I'll try to restrain myself" Tom smiles, and digs the food out of his backpack. She goes to shower, Tom sets the table with his usual precision, then sits down at the table. He spies the sling bag lying on the bed. He thinks of all the cool gadgets he can get. But he can't wait to fall in: he doesn't want any trouble. Meanwhile, Casey gets ready and, fresh from her bath, sits down at the table in a T-shirt and a pair of short shorts. They begin to eat. It's only a sandwich, but it feels like a wedding feast. She turns to Tom.

- So, can you see people's aura?

- Yes, but I've kept it a secret since I was a child, even my parents don't know.

- And tell me, what colour is my aura?

Tom looks wide-eyed at her, his pupils seeming to take on a new function. He speaks in a slightly shy voice:

- It's beautiful. Like a rainbow dancing around you.

- Of course!" she says, turning away so as not to show her blushing.

They swallow the last of their dinner, and wash it down with something to drink. Casey holds the bottle on the table, glances at Tom with a wry look and a small smile.

- Before we talk, we need to know where Frenk is now.

She gets up from the table, walks to her things thrown on the bed, puts on her glasses, takes an elongated rod-shaped tool from her bag and places it on the end of the table. After two button presses, a holographic display appears above the table with a light-operated unit projected like a state-of-the-art keyboard. Casey is immediately immersed in the sea of information - she's been using it for a long time, she knows what she's doing. And a small image appears in the air, in which Tom immediately recognises the black-eyed man. Underneath it, data accumulates, though it's not really legible. It's clearly not in English, and it's not in a familiar language, but he doesn't want to ask; he'll find out soon enough.

- Frenk is still in London, analysing data. Good, then we have time, we can sleep peacefully. Please, ask for a wake-up call at six, then you can ask questions.

- I'm on it.

While Tom orders the morning wake-up call, Casey packs her things away - putting all her belongings in the inside corner of her bed as a precaution - and then lies back on the bed. - When you're ready, you can ask.

- Can I ask you anything? I have lots of questions. I will try to prioritise them.

- Okay, but I'm not sure I'm going to answer all of them.

- I see. You want to tell me who you work for?

- There is an organisation called Ray of Hope, an "underground" movement, so to speak. It has close to a hundred agents like me, all over planet Earth. There are a lot of bio-drones like Frenk who are collecting in the world, and we're trying to monitor them, to stop them from collecting.

- So far so good. But why does this Frenk need me? Or his employer? Do they want to study, experiment, or what?

- You know, the fact that someone has similar abilities is due to a mutation, an evolutionary step, if you like. The capacity of the human brain can be enhanced with incredible functions during evolution, you for example are able to see the radiance of the human soul because of that.

- Well, that's very flattering! But because I "see"?

- More specifically, because your brain has been given a new function! Some people want to prevent or delay this "evolution" as much as possible. They control Frenk.

- How dangerous is Frenk? Will he get off me?

- I've been in Frenk's corner for three years and you're the third person he's tried to collect in that time. Unfortunately, I have not yet succeeded: Frenk has exceptional problem-solving skills and is one of the best collectors. And he won't stop looking for you, you'll be in his crosshairs for years to come.

- Well, that's great! What if I call the police?

- And what would you tell them? All kinds of unbelievable things, and not even a crime, at most they'd send you to some mental hospital, where Frenk would hunt you down immediately.

- Great views! So what are my options? Is there anything I can do to get out of this persecuted role?

- Tomorrow I'll talk to my leader about what we should do, but first you and your parents should be safe.

- I don't know why, but I feel I can trust you.

- I am glad you feel that way; I will do my best to keep you safe. But now we have to sleep, we have a long day ahead of us, we need to be well rested. And we'll continue this conversation when we've stabilized the situation.

- All right, let's go to sleep. Good night!

- Good night!

Thomas' mind is still reeling: his well-organised life is suddenly in chaos, and he can't see his future, or even his tomorrow. He thinks of Casey's words, the sparkle of her light, and the need to trust her. Slowly she begins to calm, her tiredness helping her to drift off to sleep.

Bring, bring... Bring, bring...

She reaches for the phone.

- Hello?

- Good morning! It's six o'clock, breakfast will be available from half past six.

- Thank you! - She hangs up the phone with sleepy eyes. She sits up on the bed, thinks for a few seconds, then calls to the bed next to her. Wake up, Tom! We have to get ready!

- Good morning!" he crawls out of bed, yawning.

- Good morning! The bathroom will be with you in a minute, I'll be quick.

Tom slowly wakes up, puts on his trousers and shirt, takes a few swigs from his water bottle. He steps to the balcony. It's getting light, the birds are chirping under the window. He looks at the sky; not a cloud. Casey steps out of the bathroom.

- You can go.

She reaches for her gadget, places the portable terminal on the table, switches it on. She navigates through the data on the projected display, updates Frenk's data...

- Damn it! Tom! Hurry up, we have to go now!

- What happened?

- Frenk doesn't travel by bus, but by train, and he's already nearby. If we don't hurry, he'll get there before us.

- I'm packing my things.

- When I looked in the evening, he had downloaded the long-distance bus timetable and even booked a ticket. I hate how sophisticated he is. Maybe he knows what we're planning. The 5:10 train leaves at 5:10, gets into Newlyn around 10:40.

- From here it's almost two hours by car.

- It's almost half a week, we need to get a car! Go to the dining room, pack some food, I'll talk to the receptionist about getting a car.

Tom wraps the prepared sandwiches in napkins and puts them in his backpack, then pours two coffees, flavours them and walks with it to the reception. Casey stands there, watching her. Tom hands her the coffee.

- Here, this will feel good.

- Thank you. That's all I needed. - She takes the cup with a smile and sips.

Meanwhile, the receptionist will find the information you need.

- Dear, there is a car rental shop nearby that opens at 8 am, the others at 9 am. I'll write down the address now - then give the note to Casey.

They put the cups on the counter and head for the exit.

- Thank you, goodbye! - she waves back, note in hand. When they reaches the street, she hands it to Tom.

- Do you know where it is?

Tom watches, thinks, shakes his head.

- No, unfortunately I'm not that familiar here.

- No problem! She turns on something on the controller on her arm, then raises it to her mouth. Sutton Road, Plymouth. Go!

She hears directions from the stem of her special glasses, street information on the lenses and directional arrows showing her where to go.

- Let's go find that rental shop!

- Okay! You have amazing gadgets. Is the navigation really in your glasses?

- Almost, but it's not that simple! When we get there, I'll talk to my guide.

- Can you eat on the go? We could have breakfast while we're there.

- This is a good idea.

Tom digs the sandwiches out of the backpack, hands one to the girl.

- I hope you like it.

- Thanks!" and takes a bite. - Hmmm! This is amazing! You know something! It's delicious!

- Thank you. I don't like to crash anything. I'm glad you like it.

As they eat their breakfast, they slowly make their way to the rental shop. The shop is still closed, opening in about half an hour. Casey looks around, glances at his watch, turns to Tom.

- Let's walk down to the harbour and wait there. I'll talk to my guide.

- Let's go, there's the hatch.

They soon arrive at the port. There's hardly anyone at the boats, just the seagulls making their usual noises.

- You stay here, I'll find somewhere quieter where I can "phone".

- All right, I'll wait for you here.

Casey moves away. She comes to a corner, stops, raises her right arm to her face, turns something on with her left hand, then starts talking...