How does one describe control? The rush of power? I've noticed throughout my life that most people have a limited understanding of power and an even more limited use of it. They think power is crude tools like violence, coercion, or manipulation. But those are ways to use power, not power itself. Power itself isn't crude; it's majestic. Power isn't forceful; it's unyielding.
Power isn't a lion claiming its territory, even as the cells inside it are slowly dying. Power is the sea rising up to cover the land because that's what the sea does.
When I was a kid, I watched an abusive, drunken father beat my mother. As soon as I understood that I could stop him, I did. I froze him and mother in time, in a cocoon of stasis, and brought it right into the middle of the local precinct. I let it unfreeze and watched as a room full of cops saw the routine that I had seen so many times.
That was the end of his presence in our lives. I knew my mom wouldn't understand what had happened even if I tried to explain, so I didn't try. I let her believe her memory had blanked and dad had lost his temper in front of everyone.
As I grew, I watched kids bully other kids. I watched friends betray one another. I stepped in when I couldn't take anymore, but what worked for my dad didn't work here. Kids were more easily forgiven and forgotten. I began to realize that I was making feeble attempts to force people out of my life who caused me to feel pain. It was a temporary solution with no long-term gain.
I became very protective of one girl. Kayla. But I couldn't even find it in myself to befriend her.
I withdrew more and more into myself as the years went by, trying to understand how to overcome the base needs in me. I had been given a control over the world beyond anything that most people could even imagine, but I was using it in petty, simple ways. I needed to be like the ocean. I needed to be unyielding, not forceful. I needed to be majestic, not crude.
At the beginning of high school, everything changed. I can't understand why, even looking back, but when I was walking home from school and saw Kayla looking dejected, while her friend Raina called her "worthless" and "nothing," something inside me snapped. Maybe it reminded me of my dad abusing my mom.
I didn't do anything then, but I swore to myself that Raina would never to talk to her like that again. I watched Raina carefully for the next few days and found an opportunity to corner her when no one would be around. I'd have about five minutes before someone showed up. I needed to act fast.
When I cornered her, Raina acted as I expected. Surprised at first, then indignant. There was even a twinge of fear.
"I heard what you called Kayla," I said. I tried to keep my voice steady and devoid of emotion, but I barely knew what I was doing and I cared about Kayla a lot. Some anger had slipped in and judging by the increased fear in Raina's eyes, she noticed.
"I don't know what you're talking about," she said. She gulped, her eyes flickering back and forth like crazy.
Some primal instinct in me took over, perhaps the same instinct that had made me powerful, and I backed up. I took a deep breath and let the emotion drain out of me. Then I held up a hand and said, "I know that behavior will stop." And left.
As soon as I was out of her sight, I crumpled against the wall, shaking like a leaf. I didn't understand at the time what I had done, but something had happened. That much I knew. And it had drained me like nothing had ever drained me before. I convinced the school nurse that I was sick and spent the rest of the day in bed. I was weak enough that mom assumed I'd caught something and made me some soup.
Eating did restore my energy, surprisingly. The action I'd taken seemed to have tapped right into my metabolism. Burned off, as I would learn later, a lot of calories. Like a big workout. But I also felt a certain excitement. I could feel myself on the cusp of what I had been looking for. I started practicing in little ways. Telling people things as if they were already true, to find out later that the "truth" had been carried out, like an order.
With more practice, it took a lot more to drain me. In a few years, as high school came close to an end, I was walking down the halls with more confidence than the cockiest jock. No one stopped or stared though. It wasn't that kind of confidence. It was as if I was simply a part of the landscape. I was a supporting pillar of the school, holding it up.
Kayla was happier now and more secure in herself. She and Raina had become inseparable, and both seemed like different people. Full of positivity and zeal for life. It made me happy to see Kayla happy, but it saddened me realizing that I'd never fully introduced myself. I decided I must do so before the year ended. If nothing else, I needed to know that I had truly met her.
Time went by too fast and on the last day of class, I finally got my chance to talk to her alone. Raina was sick at home and Kayla looked happy, but also a bit like a lost puppy, as she swapped books in her locker after the first class of the day.
I approached her and got her attention by tapping her on the shoulder. She whirled in excited delight and then her face fell into a puzzled expression.
"Where do I know you from?" she said. She seemed to be trying to remember a long lost friend.
"I'm James," I said, reaching out a hand.
"James." She shook it and her face split into a grin. She repeated the name and giggled, "James."
"That's my name."
Understanding sparked in her eyes, "Hold on, I know where I've seen you."
It's hard to describe the look that crossed her face in that moment. It was like a person had been staring at the sun in the morning for years and had only just now realized what a sunset looks like.
"You're practically invisible," she whispered in awe, "you know that, right?"
I frowned in a mixture of confusion and fear. I thought, for a brief moment, that she was insulting me.
"I'm sorry," she added quickly, "it's just you blend in. But not in a bad way, you know? I'm sorry if that makes no sense." She put a hand to her head. "I'm not usually like this. I'm..." She looked at me expectantly.
"You're really turned on," I said. The words were out of my mouth before I could stop myself. I hadn't even meant it as a command and to this day, I'm not sure if it was one. She didn't seem to have needed any urging.
