25 Sep

Due to its peculiar characteristics and conditions, the planet named Terremoto had developed adepts with unusual psychic abilities.

Nowhere else were there such unique varieties of telepaths. They appeared to have evolved in the singular environment of this world into extraordinary practicioners with amazing capacities within their minds.

With a fiery inner core of iron and numerous deep fault lines, Tenemoto suffered continuous seismic eruptions of high force and intensity. Peaceful calm never lasted long on the surface of the rotating sphere. From the beginning of immigration and settlement, special mental powers appeared and grew. They were caused by the explosive violence coming from the red hot center of this world.

Yet illness and suffering were early indicators of a serious problem for the psychically gifted.

Individuals with telepathic potential came to possess a power of predicting the occurrence of earthquakes on a near time basis. These persons were called seismopaths. They were able to give accurate early warnings of dangerous tremors and quakes long before these happened.

In dozens of seismic stations all over Terremoto, the seismopaths were on guard, waiting for the signs of geological disaster. Their warnings saved many lives over generations and many years.

A second factor on the planet led to another special kind of telepath. The weather on Terremoto was wild and violent. High winds and thick clouds brought ferocious storms with frequency. But this activity could be monitored by the cyclopaths in psychic touch with the whirling movements of air. These meteorological adepts were vital to society. They could foretell the attacks of wind, rain, or sand anywhere. No other weather service had their speed or accuracy.

Thus, seismopaths and cyclopaths became the leading psychics on the world of Terremoto.

While in primary school, Dagan showed great promise in his telepathic gifts. He was placed immediately in a special class for talented youngsters. His education was centered on the development of the rich potential he was clearly born with.

As a teenager, Dagan attended a school where he studied aerology, anemology, and cyclonology. He absorbed the basic framework of the meteorological sciences. But at the same time, all his psychic powers were encouraged and trained. He carried out his first psychic experiments, gradually entering into the field of weather forecasting. By the time the young man reached adulthood, he was prepared to become an apprentice in one of the weather stations on the Infinite Plain that crossed the main continent of the planet, far distant from the numerous scattered seas.

Tall and extremely skinny, Dagan resembled the typical cyclopath with whom he worked on weather predictions.

His personal interest and ardor for the profession he was in was extraordinary. He spent free hours away from psychic surveying of the atmosphere in private, original mental experiments. It was while doing so on his own that Dagan uncovered something completely unexpected and surprising.

He was able to exercise a degree of control over how a storm developed, he discovered.

Mixo was a short, petite young woman who had shown psychic sensitivity even in the cradle.

Her parents placed her in a special seismopathic school at the age of six. Here she won prizes and displayed astounding talent that grew year by year. Her sharpness of mind made her a perfect receiver tiniest geological shift or movement. Several earthquake institutions aspired to draw her in as a student. Mixo chose the most prestigious one on the planet and she received training and education that could not have been surpassed. She graduated as a promising new star in the seismopathic field.

Success came to her during her earliest days at an earthquake station. Mixo picked up early signals from deep underground, minutes before even the most experienced veterans. She received citations and rewards for her skill in detection of the start of tremors of all dimensions.

Mixo had the unique character to have high professional recognition and still be liked by everyone who knew her. There was an inborn sweetness to her that drew and encouraged friendship.

In her spare time away from her strenuous work, Mixo enjoyed relaxing on long hikes through mountain parks, staying overnight at hostels out on the trail.

It was at one of the latter spots that she met the cyclopath named Dagan.

The forest reeked with piney smells as she strode up a steep pathway.

Leaning to the right, Mixo failed to realize that she was approaching the point of a catastrophic loss of balance. In a fraction of a second, she tipped over into a sudden fall. The accident was a stunning shock to her.

She had no memory of how long she lay half-conscious in the narrow, deep hollow. Her thoughts were incoherent and unorganized.

All of a sudden, Mixo realized that she had been lifted up and carried away.

A long, thin face with whitish azure eyes looked down at her.

“Do not be afraid of anything,” said Dagan. “You will be fine once we reach the nearest trail station, Miss.”

The cyclopath soon arrived with the young woman he was taking with him at an installation where there were first-aid supplies available for him to use. He quickly took care of her fractured leg, setting a support on it and covering the wounded area with gauze and bandages.

Mixo was amazed at his skill as a provider of emergency treatment.

She hesitantly told him what her job was. “I am involved in seismopathy,” she confessed in a soft, quiet voice. “It would appear we are involved in opposite psychic fields of activity.”

In a few moments, a small path vehicle approached to take the injured walker back to the district city.

Dagan promised to call her apartment to learn how her recovery was coming along. He continued on his interrupted trek.

Every day for weeks, Mixo had visits from her rescuer. The pair rapidly took to each other in a friendly, cordial manner. With time her leg healed and her strength returned. She finally decided that she was ready to go back to her seismopathic work once more.

Dagan proposed that they celebrate her return to health and her job with an evening at District City’s famous amusement park.the Thrill Yards.

They tried many of the mechanical rides that rotated, fell, and coasted. The force of gravity produced excitement in all of them for the passengers.

Dagan finally began to speak candidly to her as they moved on a slow Ferris wheel for a short time.

“I have a personal ambition that I have never dared to reveal to anyone,” he declared in a murmur. “You would be greatly surprised, Mixo, were I to tell you what it is.”

He looked at her with a steel-like gaze.

“I cannot imagine what you dream of doing,” she smiled at him. “Why don’t you tell me your mysterious secret?”

Dagan thought a moment before replying to her.

“I have always been dissatisfied with the old. My inner drive is to find out where the new can take me. In other words, I am by nature an explorer.

“My talent ad training have made me a weather forecaster. But one question has bothered me from the start. Can the weather be psychically controlled? Can the mind of an adept direct it? For instance, to divert or prevent a terrible storm that threatens the city or the agricultural crops?”

“What are you talking about?” asked the puzzled Mixo, nervous excitement on her face and in her eyes.

“There is a feat, an attainment that I have envisioned from my earliest years as a cyclopath working at a weather station. What if it were possible to go beyond predicting to determining and choosing? How would our lives be different if the weather could be managed and controlled? Who would have the authority to decide on what course was to be taken at any moment of time?”

She said not a word, being dumbfounded by the vastness of what he proposed. It took her some time to digest what he had just revealed to her.

The Ferris wheel came to a halt as their unit reached ground level.

An attendant helped the pair get out of the compartment that had held them during the rotations up and down.

Only as they walked away into the crowded fairway did Mixo give him an answer to his last question.

“What you said I found to be interesting and intriguing, Dagan. But how can it ever be done? Are you willing to attempt experiments in that direction?”

The two sat down at a bench in front of the monkey cages and the cyclopath began to describe the details of his plan to shape and influence future weather through a telepathy never tried before.

Mixo became his assistant in the secret enterprise he had conceived.

They took a public electric trolley to the end of the line and walked together into the countryside on old unpaved pathways.

“I must practice concentrating my thoughts and maximizing my mental focus into a supreme effort of force and impetus,” Dagan explained to her. “The stress on my neurons will mount to a great, unprecedented quantity. I cannot achieve my goal alone, all by myself. I shall need your psychic assistance to reach the point I am aiming at.”

“Yes, that is clear to me,” said the seismopath. “And I understand how I can be a boosting force in adding to the stream of your thought as you concentrate upon moving the location and nature of the weather cycles. I will be acting as a secondary directional factor, helping guide your mental lines of force with those of my own mind.”

“The two of us shall attempt the diversion of an approaching storm this very evening, Mixo,” he said to her. “If we succeed, we can save District City from a terrible drenching and flood of rain.”

“It will be up to us to empty out our psychic reservoirs to the limit,” she softly told him. “The effort will be an exhausting one for both of us.”

The solar disc was touching the far-off horizon, ready to set soon.

Dark storm clouds filled the eastern sky where night was already gathering.

That was the direction the two psychics turned toward. They stood only a single arm-span apart.

A scary silence reigned over the end of the day and the beginning of night.

There was not another soul about. No one beyond the two of them was visible.

Each of the pair gathered all their mental potential into a mass and projected a concentrated bundle forward into the lightless front of black cloud. Two minds marshaled the largest quantity of telepathic energy they had ever gathered together in their lives.

Mixo strained to find the boundaries of the psychic thrust radiating out of the mind of her partner. Her aim was to keep her own effort within the parameters of his stream of thought.

Dagan aimed his own force at diverting and dispersing the approaching storm.

The strain of two gifted minds began to join together. Invisible energy combined, melting into a single stream.

What was going to result from the magnified quantum they produced together?

The pair was shocked and astounded when the ground beneath them began to shake and rumble. They suddenly turned and exchanged looks of total surprise. In an instant, both of them realized what was happening.

The storm clouds were untouched. They continued to roll over District City. But somehow a violent earthquake was starting to rumble on and on.

Are we responsible for igniting the geological events that are unfolding? both wanted to know for sure, one way or another.

Both suspected that their experiment had misfired. They had, somehow, moved the forces deep underground and not the weather factors in the atmosphere.

The seismic storm continued, increasing in intensity.

The quaking reached historic proportions never recorded before.

All night long, the shaking went on, never declining or ending.

The electic trolley had stopped running, stranding the two psychics in the country. Fortunately, the found a local village inn where they were provided shelter and protection from what they feared they had inadvertently created.

We have acted as seismopaths this evening, both of them believed, not as the cyclopaths we had planned on being.

Neither ever spoke to anyone about their failed experiment.


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