Part 17: Lessons from the past

"Well hello there my little maiden. And what is your name?" said the old woman looking down at me. She looked like a cartoon character. A round woman with gray hair in a tight bun. Half moon glasses attached to her neck by a pearl chain. Her home was clean but cluttered with knick knacks from her many years and travels. The shades were drawn tight only allowing small shafts of light to illuminate the residence. If one looked closer they would see the eyes of the many cats roaming in the shadows. I was terrified. My parents said she would be giving me lessons. Lessons that would make the "special powers" go away. They told me time and again I wasn't bad for having them but as a little girl I needed to learn to hide them until I grew up. And most importantly, Nonna could never know. Never.

"Mandy" I said looking up with big eyes. She hugged me. She smelled of rose perfume.

"Come sit with me little maiden. Let me look into you." She led me to a fat chair with a plastic cover. She sat her large behind in a folding chair in front of me. She adjusted her glasses and then her large backside and placed her fat hands on my face and pawed me for a minute or two. "Oh I see, I see. Yes, very powerful, indeed. From inside, deep inside, your power comes forth. You did not ask for this. I can see that. You are afraid. I understand little maiden. Mother Mental is here for you. Mother Mental will help." I opened my eyes feeling a little woozy and saw her smiling at me.

"I have one question to ask you my little maiden. Do you want me to teach you to turn these things off?"
I nodded.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, ma'am."

She looked at my parents and began to speak in soft tones. Funny how adults think that children don't understand what they are saying sometimes. But I was a smart little girl and knew exactly what they were saying. She agreed to do it not because I should be ashamed of my abilities but because they may be too dangerous for a little girl. She could not erase them since they seemed to be anatomic in nature and not magicly placed.. Some day I would have to choose to continue turning them off or let them out. It was going to be hard and at times I wouldn't like her because it would require discipline that most 10 year olds don't have. My parents weren't allowed to sit in the sessions, because she was going to be hard at times and they may not be able to stand it. Every Wednesday after school. 5 o'clock. I could never be late. Each session was over when it was over. No exceptions. If I worked hard it would be over early if I slacked off I could be there all night.
She then looked at me and asked, "Maiden, can you do that? Will you work hard for me?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Good!" she smiled and hugged me suffocating me with her ample cleavage. "My little maiden. Mother Mental is going to love working with you." She then turned to my parents. "Good seeing you two again. She'll be fine. See you next week."

She could be a stern taskmaster one minute but tender at the drop of a hat. I was expected to be on time and prepared for each lesson. Backtalk was prohibited. Home assignments were tough and mandatory. If I did not behave or became bored with the session she would yell, but if I was good she loved on me like her own child. The first year was nothing more than lessons on concentration. No mention of powers, just learning how to concentrate. Flashcards, tests, and homework. I was going to school twice! But after every session she treated me to pumpkin cookies with chocolate chips. They were wonderful.

The next few years were going to be hard on my family and Mother Mental was the only steady presence in my life. The death of my father's older brother and his family which lead to Nonna's seclusion from us and complete breakdown in her relationship with my mother. (Two of her three sons now dead) My mothers downward spiral into depression that eventually led to her suicide when I was twelve. My fathers growing absence as he was forced to take over the family empire and him eventually leaving me when I was sixteen with the St. John-Smythes. Mother Mental was always there.

The first assignment she gave me was to write her about the prettiest thing in the world (the pink sand and blue-green water on the beaches of Bermuda) to me. It would be an image I would use for my training to help with concentration. I signed it, "Amanda Bryce Cambridge, your little Maden" a silly little ten year old's spelling error she never pointed out.

"We're here. Mandy? Are you ok?" Frank said as the cab came to a hault in front of the beach house. The Bermuda air was crisp but still tropical. I had taken Noire's advice.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Was just thinking."

"What about?"

"The beach."

Part 16.2 Canaries, UFOs and Tumors.

We live in a big world made small with connections. With this electronic world the concept of six degrees of separation seems antiquated. Dr. Noire and I made small talk and realised we had many of these connections. We were both a member of the Guardian Channel, a loosely aligned group of heroes that had a Com Unit band that announced serious threats to the city. Since giant robots or monsters don 't pop up all the time the conversation on the channel usually turned to food, especially cookies. She frequently lectures at Brown School of Medicine about Pediatrics and knows my best friend Tess St. John-Smythe. She and Dr. Fransisco have extensively researched children and metahuman powers. Noire a renowned pediatric specialist and Dr. Fransisco author of Patient A: Child with Metapowers, required reading for government workers and scientists working with superheroes. It was a ground breaking book about the physiologic and psychologic effects of powers on children. He had since put out many more: all the way to Patient K. I was the anonymous Patient A.

"So you are "A"?" she smiled. I could tell she wanted to ask questions about the book. But she held back.

Embarassed I answered, "Yeah, that's me. Been a long time since I thought about that book."

"Wow, not me I've read it cover to cover so many times. It helped me decide to be a hero." I looked at her puzzled. "After my accident, the one that gave me powers, I became depressed, confused. I didn't know what to do. Dr. Fransisco and I knew each other from conferences and he gave me that book. Since I'd worked with children he thought the story would help me cope with my ordeal. He said, 'Read about this brave little girl. It will change your life.' and I did and it......you did........"

"But I spent my adolescence and teen years suppressing my powers. That is what the book is about. Running away from what had happened." I interjected.

"Oh, no,no,no," she interupted "You were so brave. You made a choice and you fought so hard to control your powers. I know how hard that is. It took you so much will power to make that choice. No, Amanda, you were brave.....so strong. You should be proud."

A tear welled up in my eye. "It was never my choice. I know the book was anonymous, but now that you know my name I think you will realize who I am and how that decision was made for me by birthright." I watched as the wheels began to turn and I saw the moment she figured out who I was and from what family. It's the same everytime. Confusion, disbelief and sometimes even resentment. As I awaited the questions or comments about my family something strange happened. She smiled and began laughing. She hugged me again. (What was with her and hugging?)

"I love irony!" she exploded. "You were even braver than I thought! Coming from that family and having super powers. Lord knows what you went through. And look at you today, one of the cities finest heroes......" And then it hit her and it hit me. Why we were here. There was a slight pause as we both looked down. Her mood changed and her voice went from the bubbly bedside voice (Oh Mr. and Mrs. So-and-so I'm Dr. Noire) to the serious practitioner (I hate to inform you but your child has a terminal disease).

"We don't know what it is, Amanda. I've looked at your x-rays and I can't....it can't be explained. It could just be that your powers are mutating. I mean you are now doing things you learned to do late in your career. That could be it, just a steady progression......."

"What makes a tumor that size move across my brain without leaving me in a vegatative state or dead?"

"I don't know."

"What makes a person wake up after three days with no memory?" my tone became tense..

"Look, your powers eminate from parts of your brain that deal with spacial relationships. Maybe, your brain moved the tumor. Some type of teleportation......" She was stretching. I could see it. And she knew it. "Maybe this shift in your brain caused you to blackout."

"And the break in at my apartment? How do you explain that?"

"No one can explain that. No witnesses. No evidence. Amanda, you can't rule out the fact that......." I knew what was coming.

"Me? You think I did that? Broke into my own home and....."

"No, no, hun I didn't say I thought that. As scientists you know we can't rule that out."

I became shaken for the first time since I woke up in that bunker. The emotions finally came pouring in. It was heavy. It was all I could take to hold back the tidal wave of tears that were building. "What happened to me, Noire?"

"I guess it's just a UFO." WHAT???

"A flying saucer? Aliens? What are you talking about." Hearing my question again she laughed and again she hugged me.

"Oh, my, Amanda I'm sorry. It's an expression of mine. When you say UFO people always assume you are talking about little green men in a saucer, but what it really means is something that you see but can't explain. You know unidentified flying object. That's all it means. For years the government used it to term things they couldn't explain. And until the Rikti Invasion we were all left wondering if strange things really happened. Sure there were occurances that couldn't be explained and sure we knew there were heroes out there, but it all seemed to be something off in the distance. In my pursuits in science anytime I can't solve something I call it a UFO. Amanda, all I can tell you is that we don't know what it is. I'm sorry."

I stared at the floor: disappointment, sadness and fear swirled in my mind. This wasn't the news I wanted to hear.

"Maybe you should take a break. You look worn. Forget about this for a while. I promise I will look into it some more. Look, we don't know what we are dealing with here. This could be nothing but your powers natural progression or it could be a global conspiracy. We just don't know. But what I do know is you can't take much more. Get some rest. Go somewhere; get away from all of this. Just for a little while."

"I'll try."