Морган Райс
The Magic Factory
CHAPTER TWENTY
Oliver followed his friends into the atrium for switchit practice. The room was just as enormous as the food hall and library. It looked in every way like an oversized basketball court except for the fact there were about a thousand different baskets at varying heights. It was enough to give Oliver a headache looking at them all.
But more than the size of the court, Oliver was most overwhelmed by the caged bars at one end of the room, behind which, lurking in the shadows, were the ostreagles. They looked just as mean as normal eagles, only they were ten times the size. The thought of riding one was very intimidating for Oliver.
He turned to his friends.
“How do you even play this game?” he asked. “There are so many hoops. Are there lots of balls as well?”
Walter, who’d made it clear that he thought of himself as some kind of switchit expert, began to explain the rules. “You use your powers to hide the ball or distort it in some way so that the others don’t know who’s got it and what hoop you’re throwing it into.”
Ralph added, “Of course, the best players use their powers to multiply the ball and score in several hoops at once.”
Oliver’s eyebrows rose. “You mean we don’t play in teams? It’s pretty much you versus everyone else?”
“Of course it’s not in teams,” Walter said as though it were obvious. “You get one point for blocking someone else’s attempt to score a bucket, and three points for scoring your own. The person with the most points after sixty minutes wins. So it’s a game of power, strength, and endurance.”
“And aggression,” Ralph interrupted. “I mean, it’s not like there are many Seers who make a career out of defending.”
Hazel nodded her agreement. “That’s true. The winner is usually the person who’s confident and aggressive enough to go for the shots.”
“I told you it was vulgar,” Simon added.
Oliver felt apprehensive. The rules of switchit made the sport sound a little ruthless, not to mention tiring.
“And this all happens on the back of one of those?” he asked, incredulously, pointing to the caged ostreagles. He didn’t like the thought of having a dozen of them chasing after him in one go.
“Yup,” Walter said, grinning. He slapped him on the back. “You’ll get the hang of it.”
Simon added, “And if you don’t enjoy it, then you’ll be in good company. I thoroughly dislike this game.”
Oliver followed his friends over to where the coach was leading the students, one at a time, into the caged room. Oliver joined the back of the queue, feeling his nerves intensify. From the front, Edmund and Vinnie were whispering and pointing at him. Edmund shook his fist and Oliver gulped.
As each of his friends disappeared into the dark room, his apprehension grew. Then it was his turn.
Coach Finkle was a tall, skinny man with curly ginger hair. He peered down at Oliver curiously as they walked in through the caged gates.
“You’re new,” he stated.
Oliver nodded. “And scared. I’ve never ridden an ostreagle.”
As he said it, one of the huge creatures loomed into view. He balked at the size of it.
“Well, there’s only one way to learn,” Coach Finkle said. He patted the ostreagle’s flank and it let out a chirruping kind of noise. “And that’s to just go for it. Mabel here is very gentle. She’s good with a beginner.”
Oliver trembled as he approached the formidable-looking Mabel. Her eyes were yellow and piercing. He touched her feathered side gently. She let out another chirrup.
Coach Finkle spoke again. “You’ll need this.”
He placed a helmet on Oliver’s head. Right away, Oliver felt a strange pulsing sensation between his ears.
“Not more training aids,” he groaned. “I’m the only one who has to use them! Everyone will laugh at me!”
“They all had to use them once too,” Coach Finkle told him flatly.
But Oliver knew that didn’t matter one bit. Whether the other students had needed aids or not was beside the point. He was the only one using them today. It made him different.
“Come on,” Coach Finkle said impatiently.
Resigning himself to wearing the helmet, Oliver climbed onto the back of the animal. It was surprisingly comfortable. Mabel’s feathers felt soft as he took hold of them in his fists, just by the base of her neck.
With everyone mounted, Coach Finkle went over to the gate and put his hand on a lever. “Ready, set, go!” He pulled the lever and the gate flew upward. The ostreagles shot forward.
Oliver held on tight, the wind whipping in his face from the speed. Then suddenly he was out of the shadows and onto the huge court, flying upward through the air. Above him he could see Hazel. To his side was Ralph. But his mind felt slow. The pulsing from the helmet made him feel sleepy and disoriented.
Suddenly, someone whizzed past him.
“Nice hat, dummy!” came Edmund’s voice.
Oliver glanced all about him, but Edmund had already gone. Then a voice called from above.
“It’s safest at the top!”
It was Simon’s unmistakable British accent. But all Oliver could make out was his pale blond hair.
He felt flustered. The helmet was practically blinding him. If Edmund really wanted to kick his butt, then his near-blindness would certainly give him the advantage!
Far below, Oliver could just make out Coach Finkle holding a basketball. The coach threw it directly up into the air. The game was on.
The ostreagles reacted immediately. It was if the ball contained some kind of homing beacon. Everyone swooped for it. Oliver’s stomach flipped as Mabel soared through the air in pursuit.
“No, stop!” he yelled at her. All he could see were blurs. It made his stomach swill.
Suddenly, Mabel halted. She let out a snort that sounded very much like annoyance.
“I’m sorry,” Oliver told her, breathing slowly to calm his racing heartbeat. “I can hardly see a thing. If I go down there, I’ll get pounded!”
Mabel flew in slow circles. Oliver had no idea if she could understand what he’d told her but she was heeding his instructions nonetheless, letting out disgruntled snorts every now and again.
From his position high above, Oliver watched the frightening sight of the ostreagles as they all homed in on one person. He realized it was Walter they were pursuing. It was like watching vultures circling their prey.
I’m going to be terrible at this game, Oliver thought. Not only was his mind feeling far too slow to keep up, he didn’t want to even touch the ball if it meant all those birds bearing down on him!
He squinted, trying to see what was happening. Walter was moving through the atrium so fast Oliver’s slurred mind could hardly make out what was happening.
Walter’s specialism for magnetism clearly lent itself well to switchit. He used his power to imbue the ball with a strong magnet. It was attracted to one of the hoops and whizzed across the atrium so fast it was barely perceptible. Then it went straight through the hoop.
A claxon sounded. Walter punched the air with triumph.
“Three points, Walter Stroud,” Coach Finkle shouted.
But there was no respite, Oliver realized, because Coach Finkle already had a new ball in his hands. He threw it up and the game began again.
Beneath him, Oliver could feel Mabel growing more frustrated. She desperately wanted to join in the fun. But Oliver’s head spun. He couldn’t stay focused on anything around him. He could hardly tell who was whom, let alone whereabouts of the small ball in the enormous atrium. It was frustrating. There was no way he’d score any buckets like this.
“Come on, Oliver,” he heard Hazel call out. “Join in!”
He glanced over to see a blurred shape whoosh past him. The only thing that made it unmistakably Hazel was the color of butterscotch. His desire to join in grew even more. He didn’t want to be like Simon and miss out on all the fun.
Then suddenly someone was racing right toward him. Oliver felt a sudden electric shock zap through him. Mabel shuddered in pain and Oliver lost his grip on her feathers. There was a collective gasp as Oliver slid off her side.
Panicking, he grasped forward and gripped her talons by his fingertips. He was now dangling hundreds of feet in the air, barely clinging on. With all his strength, Oliver heaved himself back onto Mabel’s back.
As his adrenaline subsided, Oliver noticed another ostreagle hovering beside them. On its back, he could just make out Edmund.
“Told you I’d kick your butt,” he scoffed.
Oliver felt incensed. Edmund had used his powers to zap Oliver and his ostreagle. It was a dirty trick. He already had the upper hand without the helmet, which made it an even cheaper shot. Oliver wasn’t going to stand for it.
Oliver reached up and detached the helmet. Right away, the horrible pulsing feeling disappeared. His vision refocused. He locked eyes with Edmund then dropped the helmet to the ground.
“Think you can do this without your powers?” Edmund said with a smirk. “Good luck!”
“Powers or not, at least it will be a fair fight,” Oliver shot back.
Edmund glared at him coldly. Then he kicked his ostreagle’s flank and the creature darted away.
Within seconds, Edmund had the ball. He whizzed upward in a zigzagging motion. Little bolts of electricity trailed behind him, keeping the pursuing ostreagles off him. Then Edmund threw the ball toward a hoop. But instead of the ball going into the hoop, it completely vanished.
All the ostreagles stopped mid-flight, casting their hawkish gazes around the court, waiting for the ball to reappear somewhere else.
It did, right beside Hazel. She’d used her power to make the ball jump from one location to another. The claxon sounded out for Hazel’s block point and below Coach Finkle announced, “One point, Hazel Kerr.” Oliver was thoroughly impressed, not to mention glad that Edmund hadn’t scored.
Hazel went to grab the ball. But a sudden pulse went through the atrium, like the rippling of a pebble on water. It pushed the ball away from Hazel’s fingers and floated it right into Esther’s hands. Her ostreagle raced to the closest hoop. Esther dunked the ball for a bucket. The claxon sounded.
“Three points, Esther Valentini.”
“Awesome,” Oliver said aloud. He was getting a feel for the game now that he could actually see what was going on.
Far below, Coach Finkle was ready to launch a ball up to begin play.
Clutching onto Mabel, Oliver asked her, “Are you ready? I want to join in this time.”
She snorted happily.
Coach Finkle threw the ball. Mabel went flying. Oliver’s stomach flipped as he plummeted through the air.
Suddenly the ball disappeared. Mabel stopped soaring downward, making Oliver’s stomach flip again. Then the ball reappeared right beside Oliver. He suspected Hazel had done this, to give him a chance at a shot.
Mabel surged for the ball. From below, the other ostreagles also surged upward. Oliver didn’t have time to think. He grabbed the ball and threw it with all his might at the nearest hoop.
It soared through the air, right on target. But suddenly electricity zapped all around the hoop, completely melting it. The ball sailed onward, where the hoop had been, but no points were awarded to Oliver.
As the claxon sounded for the block point, Oliver glanced around to see who had blocked him. To his irritation, it was Edmund who’d blocked his point by melting the hoop. He punched the air with frustration.
“One point, Edmund Branner.”
“Nice try!” Hazel called to Oliver as she swooped past.
Oliver knew she’d done everything she could to help him but without using his powers, he’d never get any points.
Once again, Coach Finkle had the ball. He shouted up, “Cavendish! Get involved!”
From the highest point of the atrium, Simon’s ostreagle hovered. Simon waved languorously from its back. He clearly had no intention of joining in the game at all. But Oliver wanted to. He wanted to get a bucket. Three points would be more than Edmund had, and beating him would feel like winning to Oliver.
Coach Finkle threw the ball. Oliver charged downward on Mabel’s back. Edmund got to it first. He grabbed the ball and threw it immediately to the nearest hoop, which just so happened to be at Oliver’s right shoulder.
Everything happened in a split second. Oliver wanted to stop the ball from entering the hoop so much his mind immediately shifted to the place where he could summon his powers. Oliver cast his mind out to the ball, commanding its atoms to change.
Suddenly, the ball transformed in midair, turning from a solid ball into a strange viscous goo. It had been just a mere inch from the ring of the hoop but now it dribbled through the air and turned to a puddle on the ground.
The strain of using his fledgling powers made Oliver’s forehead bead with sweat. But it was worth the effort when he heard the claxon.
“One point, Oliver Blue.”
He’d gotten a point! He’d blocked Edmund’s shot! Even without the helmet, he’d summoned his powers! Oliver felt on top of the world. He’d never been good at sport, and yet here he was having the time of his life, actually exceling. He could get used to this.
“Go Oliver!” his friends started to cheer.
He looked over and Ralph flashed him a thumbs-up. Then he caught sight of Esther. She looked thoroughly impressed and flashed him a gorgeous smile.
But there was very little time to celebrate. The ball appeared once again in Coach Finkle’s hands. Once more he threw it directly into the air.
Quick as a flash, Edmund was there. He looked more determined than ever as he caught the ball.
Oliver’s stomach flipped as Mabel plummeted downward, beelining, like all the other birds, for the ball in Edmund’s hands. But Mabel was faster than the others, more determined, as though their win earlier was driving her on. They pulled ahead of the rest of the flock.
As the distance between Oliver and Edmund diminished, Oliver could see the look of sheer concentration on Edmund’s face. He was clearly trying to summon his powers. By the looks of things he wasn’t succeeding. Sweat was rolling from his forehead. He glanced over at Oliver, his teeth gritted, his expression alarmed at the sight of the ostreagle bearing down on him at its frightening speed.
“Throw the ball!” Oliver exclaimed.
But Edmund was still gripping it, willing his powers to work.
Oliver realized what was going to happen a second before it did. He only had time to cover his eyes with his hands. Then CRASH. His ostreagle slammed into Edmund’s. Both boys fell from their ostreagles and began to plummet toward the ground.
Oliver let out a huge scream as the floor raced up to meet him. But instead of smacking into a hard ground he found the surface he landed upon was as soft as a feather pillow. He bounced gently, the floor yielding to his weight like foam. He realized Coach Finkle had used his powers to change the physical properties of the floor so that it was bouncy, because after a second of bouncing, the floor returned to a solid state.
Lying on his back, staring up at the two riderless ostreagles circling above, Oliver blinked in surprise. Then suddenly, Edmund appeared above him. His face was red with rage.
“You idiot!” he screamed, grabbing Oliver by the shoulders. “You flew into me on purpose!”
Oliver batted at Edmund’s hands. “I didn’t mean to! My ostreagle wanted the ball and there was no way I could stop her. I told you to throw it!”
Edmund’s face was red with rage as he shook Oliver roughly, zaps of electricity sparking from his fingertips, each one like a small stabbing needle.
Oliver wasn’t going to lie there and take it. He might have taken Chris’s thrashings, but he wasn’t going to take it anymore, not here, at the School for Seers, at the place where he finally, truly belonged. It had been building all day, this tension between him and Edmund, and now it was finally exploding.
With all the strength he could muster, Oliver pushed out with his arms. But as he did so, some other force from inside him burst out. His powers. He’d made no attempt to conjure them, and yet his mind had visualized so clearly his hands turning to solid steel that he’d made it materialize as a reality before him. And his two steel hands were so strong, they sent Edmund flying.
Time seemed to slow down as Edmund arced through the air across the vast expanse of the court. He hit the ground hard and let out a yelp of pain.
Oliver sat up suddenly, his mouth agape. He had not meant to push out with his mind like that. He touched his head. There was no perspiration like he’d felt when using his powers before. It was as if certain situations brought his powers out without effort on his part, like the time when Chris had tried to harm him. His powers had protected him then, as they had now. It had been uncontrolled, unexpected. He’d hurt Edmund badly when all he’d wanted was for the bullying to stop. Shame swirled inside of him.
All around him, the class were muttering, whispering; his sudden explosion of power had taken everyone by surprise. He wasn’t sure if anyone had seen him transform his own body, though. To go from barely altering the structure of a mouse in Transformation class to doing it with his own body seemed like a huge leap for Oliver.
He looked down at his hands, which had returned to normal. How had he done that? Without even meaning to he’d rearranged the atoms of his own flesh, turning skin to metal. Surely that was the sort of power that took years to train to achieve? Could it be, Oliver wondered, that he had an atomic specialism after all? Had his failures not been because he was weak, but because he possessed the specialism that was the hardest to hone?
Suddenly, Coach Finkle was there beside him. He glowered down at Oliver.
“You. Headmaster’s office. Now.”
Oliver gulped. “H…headmaster?” he stammered.
Coach Finkle crossed his arms, looking thoroughly unimpressed. “You heard me, Blue. Go.”
“I don’t know where the headmaster’s office is,” Oliver admitted.
“Take the elevator to the top floor. It’s through the door into the sixth dimension,” Coach Finkle said, irritated. He turned and marched away from Oliver, calling out to the others, “Someone get the nurse!”
Oliver got to his feet. Over on the other side of the court, the rest of the kids were landing and dismounting their ostreagles, crowding around Edmund to see if he was okay. Vinnie glowered at Oliver. He wasn’t going to let him get away with this.
But whatever retribution Vinnie and Edmund would line up for him, it was going to be nothing in comparison to the headmaster. This was not how Oliver had wanted things to go. With a mixture of disappointment and terrified anticipation of his punishment, Oliver scurried away.
CHAPTER TWENTY ONE
Oliver rode the elevator up to the very top of the School for Seers. He looked around for the headmaster’s office and found a door with a big number six on it.
He went to knock but the door opened before his knuckles had even collided with the surface. Cautiously, he stepped inside and called out, “Hello?”
The second Oliver crossed over the threshold, he began to float. It was dark inside the room, like the vacuum of space. Light came from a galaxy of multicolored orbs floating about the place. Oliver reached out and touched one as he passed. It spiraled away from him just like an object in zero gravity would.
“Oliver, is that you?” a voice called.
Oliver looked all about him. He couldn’t tell from where the voice had spoken. There wasn’t anyone around, as far as he could see.
“Up here, Oliver. Coo-ee!”
Oliver looked up and saw, floating with his arms and legs outstretched, a very kind-looking man. He had a broad smile and was wearing a shiny orange two-piece suit. If this was the headmaster of the School for Seers, he wasn’t anything at all like Oliver’s imagination had conjured. And he didn’t seem to be about to punish Oliver for his fight with Edmund, either.
Confused, Oliver watched as the man floated toward him, propelling himself like a swimmer through a pool. He reached Oliver, floating to his side. They shook hands.
“I’m Professor Amethyst,” he said, his smile growing ever broader.
“I’m Oliver Tu—”
“I know who you are!” Professor Amethyst interrupted. “Since I can see the past, present, and future of every timeline, I’ve gotten to know all about you.”
Oliver blinked with surprise. “You have?”
It was very difficult to maintain a conversation while he was floating around, and it didn’t help matters that at times he’d spin so that he was facing away from the headmaster.
“Oh yes,” Professor Amethyst said. “You’re a very important young man, Oliver. Some might say you’re as important as I am, but that depends on which history book you’re reading, I suppose.”
“I’m sorry,” Oliver said, spinning to face the man who was currently floating behind him. “But what do you mean?”
Doctor Ziblatt had seemed certain Oliver couldn’t be the one they were waiting for. With all his failures, Oliver was inclined to agree with her. But the headmaster seemed to be suggesting the opposite. Oliver didn’t even dare hope that the headmaster was right about this.
“It will all become clear,” Professor Amethyst said. “One bit of information at a time. We don’t want your head to…”
“…explode,” Oliver finished. He’d heard the mantra enough now.
Professor Amethyst chuckled. “I called for you now because in ninety-nine point nine percent of timelines, Edmund comes to his senses and knocks you silly.”
“Oh,” Oliver said. “About that…”
“I’m not going to give you an ear-lashing,” Professor Amethyst said. “Although I can’t tolerate violence in my school and you’ll be punished in due course. But that’s not what this meeting is for. This is an introduction. A welcome.”
Oliver felt relieved to be temporarily let off the hook.
“Can we sit down somewhere?” he asked. “This spinning is making me seasick.”
“Of course,” Professor Amethyst replied.
He clicked his fingers and in the blink of an eye, the space transformed. The galaxy disappeared and Oliver was suddenly sitting on a couch. Just a plain brown leather couch, with a slight rip in the armrest. There was a fireplace to the left, and a coffee table ahead of him, sitting on a weathered Persian rug.
“Is this more what you’re used to?” Professor Amethyst said.
Oliver looked around at the room, which had the appearance of an old 1940s-era study. His head spun from the suddenness of the transformation that had taken place before his eyes. Professor Amethyst must be a very powerful Seer if he could rearrange all those atoms so quickly without breaking a sweat.
“I guess,” Oliver said.
“Good, then let’s begin,” Professor Amethyst said. He leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knobby knees. “Firstly, I want to apologize.”
“Apologize for what?” Oliver asked, blinking with confusion.
“For the death of your guide. Inventor Illstrom, wasn’t it?”
Oliver felt a horrible sinking feeling in his chest at the mention of Armando’s name. He’d not given anywhere near enough thought to his deceased hero since coming to the school; he’d let the factory fade into the back of his focus. He felt awful about that now, about letting Armando’s murder take second fiddle to his adventure at the school.
But then another thought struck him. Why was Professor Amethyst apologizing for that?
“Armando’s death wasn’t your fault,” Oliver said.
“No,” Professor Amethyst replied. “But as the headmaster at the school, it’s my responsibility to assign all Seers a guide. He was perfect for you but the timing was unfortunate. I’ve checked all the timelines, Oliver, pulled on a lot of dimensional threads. Those few days you had with him were the best I could manage.”
He looked downcast, as though it were a personal failure that Armando had died so soon after coming into Oliver’s life. Oliver wasn’t sure whether he was supposed to comfort the old professor, so ended up just sitting there in the awkward silence.
Finally, he spoke.
“Was Armando supposed to tell me about my destiny?” Oliver asked. “Because he didn’t get the chance, really. It was all so fast, my time in the factory, I mean.”
Professor Amethyst nodded. “His role was to start you on your journey. Becoming a Seer is psychologically taxing. I’m sure you’re aware of that. It’s not easy to accept the fact that the physical world can be bent and manipulated, or to experience time travel and contrasting versions of events. These things are beyond usual human comprehension. The guide is there to help you onto the first step, so to speak. To give you parts of the puzzle that won’t make your brain melt.”
Oliver nodded solemnly. Clearly, things were more complex than he’d ever anticipated.
“Can you tell me?” he asked. “Now that I’m here at the school? Because people keep saying things about specialisms. And my powers seem to come when I don’t mean them to, and not when I want them. Then I have these visions…”
“Oliver,” Professor Amethyst said gently, interrupting his tirade. “No brain can take everything in at once. Trust that you are learning everything at the pace you can handle. If we tell the wrong person the wrong thing at the wrong time, things implode. Whole timelines can collapse when mistakes are made. If I told you everything I knew, for example, your head would pop like a balloon. It’s taken me centuries to absorb all the knowledge I have. Everything must be taken slowly and steadily.”
Centuries, Oliver thought. Did that mean the headmaster had been alive for hundreds of years? How old was he really?
He was about to ask when Professor Amethyst spoke again. “Let’s start at the beginning. What we can do right here, right now, is find out your specialism.”
“The test!” Oliver exclaimed.
In all the drama, he’d forgotten about the test that would tell him his specialism and eer type, whether he would be cobalt or bromine. When he’d gone to sleep last night the thoughts had been consuming him. But throughout the day, he hadn’t thought much about it at all. He’d even forgotten about his timetable telling him where to be and when. He checked it now and realized he was in the exact place and time for his test. This was where it was meant to take place all along.
“You’ve probably heard the names of the nine specialisms by now,” Professor Amethyst began. “Biological, sonar, chemical, molecular, magnetic, electrical, elemental, nuclear. Then there’s the most powerful specialism: atomic.”
“From what I’ve seen of my classmates, all Seers have great powers,” Oliver said. “Everyone’s been able to manipulate the environment to their advantage in one way or another.”
Professor Amethyst smiled. “Wise beyond your years. A telltale sign of an atomic specialism.”
Oliver felt his cheeks warm. He was excited by the prospect of having atomic powers, but at the same time he felt like it would be something of a burden, as though there’d be some kind of expectation he’d have to live up to. He didn’t want there to be any bad blood between him and his new friends, and he’d already witnessed Ralph’s upset at not being able to do something a Seer with a biological specialism ought to, and Walter complaining that his magnetic specialism was weak. It didn’t seem to matter that they were all amazing, they still had hang-ups. Oliver hated the idea of adding to that in any way.
And what if his type was cobalt? What would an atomic specialism mean in the hands of a cobalt Seer? Was the combination potentially more dangerous? Oliver felt his nerves increase.
“I’ve heard that there’s more to being a Seer than just the specialism,” he said, timidly. He swallowed. “That there are also two types.”
Professor Amethyst looked a little disappointed. “You’ve been told,” he said, sighing. “I prefer my first-years not to get terrified about types but these things can’t be avoided. Whispers spread.” He shook his head, then continued. “Yes. Bromine and cobalt. Try not to get bogged down by the terms. At the end of the day it’s what you do with your powers that makes the difference. All Seers have the potential to be the greatest. And all Seers have the same mission; to protect the universe and the innocent humans that inhabit her.”
His words took root in Oliver’s mind. There was a mission, a collective one to protect the universe. Ralph had told him as much when they’d looked through the library book but Oliver hadn’t fully understood it. Now he realized he had a duty to protect mankind.
“Who are we protecting the universe from exactly?” he asked.
Professor Amethyst’s expression turned grave. “In every moment in history, in every dimension, there are villains intent on causing destruction and imbalance. Some are aided by rogue Seers. We view them as our enemies.”
“But why?” Oliver asked. “Why would people want to cause destruction?”
“Power?” the headmaster mused. “Human nature? We may not know why, all we know for certain is what they do. Hitler. Genghis Khan. Jack the Ripper. History is littered with these people. Rogue Seers are drawn to them and their destructiveness, their lust for chaos. They team up to wreak havoc on timelines, to try and twist the events of history. You can spot rogue Seers by their very peculiar shimmering blue eyes. It is imperceptible to all but a Seer. We can see them for what they are. And our mission, here at the School for Seers, is to follow the universe’s guidance to keep the timelines in order, preventing their destructive actions, rewriting those that have slipped past our detection, and minimizing the destruction of those that cannot be eradicated.”
Oliver could hardly believe what he was hearing. He had a destiny to keep mankind safe from the most awful people who ever existed.
“But…” he began, “the fact that I know who those people are and know what they’ve done, doesn’t that mean they’ve already succeeded and we’ve already failed?”
He was drawing on the information Ralph had imparted on him, about how all time already existed, and how all events that could happen had happened.
Professor Amethyst smiled at Oliver with an impressed look. “Au contraire, Oliver. What you know of those people is just a fraction of what they could have done. Indeed, what they have done in other timelines. If there weren’t Seers stopping them at every turn, their actions would have been far greater.”
