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Motions without purpose or grace, words that wandered and drifted.
    Therefore it surprised him to realize that he had missed John. But of all the gifted—and no one else was worth considering—John was most similar to himself. John lived in a multilayered view of the future, plans within plans, eventualities a year away set in motion by a conversation today. It was different than Soren’sown perspective, but it provided a frame of reference, a means of understanding.
    Like now, the way John jogged the fifteen feet to him, rather than making him suffer through the walk. The way he spoke in their old way, “Howareyou?”
    Not a pleasantry, Soren knew. A question on multiple levels. John asking if he was holding together.
    A flash of memory, vivid as tri-d: John Smith at eleven, talking to him on the playground of Hawkesdown Academy. Passing him a Kleenex for his bleeding nose, broken by one of the older boys. Saying, “It’s better if I talk fast, isn’t it?”
    Saying, “You’resmartbutyou’renotthinking.”
    Saying, “Makeityourstrength.”
    Saying, “Andnoonewilleverhityouagain.”
    Teaching him about meditation, how to put aside the dizzying maelstrom of the future and exist only in the now. Teaching him that if he could control himself, he could use his terrible curse to do anything, use it against all the petty little ones who tried to hurt him. John understanding that the boy everyone thought broken was merely overwhelmed, knocked flat by every second.
    People thought that time was a constant, because that was what their mind told them. But time was water. The stillest water vibrated and buzzed with energy.
    John had taught him, and the next time the older boys came for Soren, he remembered. He became nothing but the moment. He did not plan. Did not anticipate. He merely watched them move in slow motion, and lazily, with a stolen scalpel, he cut the throat of the biggest one.
    No one had ever come for him again. “I have more nothingness than ever.”
    Smith understood. “That’sgood.”
    “You need me.”
    “Yes.”
    “Out in the world.”
    “I’msorry. Yes.”
    “It’s important?”
    “Crucial.” A pause. “Soren. It’stime.”
    He stopped being the spider then and became the man again. For a moment, the future threatened to swamp him, the terrifying infinity of it, like being alone in the Pacific in the middle of a starless night, all that water and time around and below him, the deepest hole in the planet sucking him down into darkness.
    Be nothing. Be not the spider nor the man nor the future nor the past. Be the moment. Be nothing.
Just like John had taught him.
    Soren would rise and go with his friend into the world. He would do . . .
    “Anything.”

PERSONALS > CASUAL ENCOUNTERS > NORM/ABNORM
    Treat Me Like the Filthy Twist I Am
    18 yr old T4 male, slender, shaved. My father kicked me out—be my new daddy?
    Norm Couple Seeking Abnorm Housegirl
    We are: mid-40s, professional, fit, successful. You are: Tier 2 or 3 Reader. If you’re who we want, you already know what we want.
    Married Abnorm Looking for NSA Fun
    There’s a reason they call us gifted. Let’s get twist-ed.
    Lonely at the Top
    T1 physicist seeking other Tier Ones for conversation, friendship, more if we’re both feeling it. Age, race, gender unimportant.
    Groupie Seeks Hot Abnorm Action
    I know it’s wrong, and I don’t care. Must bring Treffert-Down test results and/or Academy diploma. I can host.
    Knock Me Up
    Attractive norm woman, 37, seeking T1 for night of passionate procreation. No condoms, no strings. Just drop your jeans and gimme those genes.

CHAPTER 4
    Cooper wasn’t used to it. Not one little bit.
    It’d been three weeks since he’d taken that unscheduled limousine ride. Twenty-one days as a special advisor to the president of the United States, all of them work days—he had a feeling that weekends would soon be a distant memory—spent in meetings and conferences, poring over reports and sitting in