Blac Female Telepath in Canada

Another day at school, another day in Hell. She walked through the halls of the university campus, surrounded by...them. Everywhere she looked, there they were. The mundane folk. Everyday humanity. Seven billion and counting. This campus was a microcosm of all of them. Girls in hijabs talking on their cellphones, black guys in sports coats, Asian guys with crew cuts and blonde girls chewing bubble gum while fiddling with their iPods. Another day at Capital University in the City of Ottawa, province of Ontario. Fun. Well, fun for everyone except for...her.

As she made her way through the Atrium, she could hear the thoughts of every single person walking through the vast hall. A tall, hijab-wearing gal from Kazakhstan shot an evil glare at a blonde chick in a short shirt who kissed a tall, bearded young Arab man. He hugged her tightly and whispered something into her ear which made her purr. Their public display of affection seemed to cause several hijab-wearing Muslim girls to seethe with anger, but none more than Little Miss Kazakhstan. Infidel whore, the Kazakh gal thought, before pasting a smile on her face and waving cheerfully at the happy couple. Why do our Muslim brothers go for these Infidel sluts? Miss Kazakhstan wondered as she walked away.

Nice butt, a tall black guy in a dark overcoat thought loudly as he gazed at a young Hindu woman whose sari nearly got caught on the handle of the doors leading toward the library. I totally got away with cheating on this test, a plump redhead thought loudly, congratulating herself on the deal she made with the T.A. for her latest criminology midterm. The sordid deal involved a good old-fashioned trade of sexual favors for grades. A time-honored tradition at colleges and universities around the world. Allah please make me stop lusting after my roommate, a hijab-wearing Somali gal thought while smiling at her roommate, a pretty Asian gal with spiky green hair. Sorry kiddo, I don't think God can change you from lesbian to straight, she thought wistfully.

As she made her way through the quad, she ran into more and more of them. A tall, older Caucasian guy in a suit and tie worried about his daughter dating the Jamaican guy next door, even while recalling fondly a sexual encounter he had with his Black secretary the previous weekend. A tall Black guy built like a football player discretely checked out the behind of first a tall skinny white dude, then that of a big-bottomed Black woman, feeling satisfied with everything he laid eyes upon. I love being bisexual, he thought with a smirk. Walking past him, she smiled at the self-satisfied look on his mug, but said nothing.

I hope I don't have AIDs, a tall, slender young Arab woman thought loudly as she exited the library with a cigarette in hand, thinking about what she did two weeks ago with a male friend after an interfaith discussion group meeting. If my parents find out I had sex, and with a Christian guy no less, I'm dead, the Moroccan beauty thought while lighting her cigarette. Pausing on the ramp leading to the library, she looked at the young Arab woman for a moment. A sad smile tugged at the corners of her lips, before she shook her head and entered the library. Pity, that's what she felt for them most of the time.

Once she walked in, the tall, dark-haired and bearded young Caucasian man sitting behind the desk at the end of the hallway fixed her with a cold smile. Without even needing to glance into his thoughts, she sensed at once that he was trouble. In all her years of unwillingly listening to the thoughts of the mundane folk, there were certain minds she found disturbing. Like his. The minds of normal people were loud, chaotic, and warm. If the human soul resides anywhere, it's in the mind of the person. Among the thoughts, memories, experiences and feelings. At least, that's what normal minds were like.

The mind of the young man who fixed with her with a cold smile was anything but normal. It was cold, and dark. Like a blank, frozen tundra compared to the hotness and vividness of the others minds. Another nigger, he thought coldly, his mind filled with disgust. His face, which some might have found handsome, remained carefully neutral as he eyed her. The smile on his face was the picture of courtesy and goodwill. A customer service smile. Canada is full of minorities, he thought bitterly. Hindus, Arabs, Blacks, Aboriginals, and who knows what else. We should get rid of these creeps, this is our land, he thought. He favored her with a strange look, and she saw herself in his mind.

A short, slender young Black woman clad in a green T-shirt, black jeans and boots. Barely five-foot-four and only one hundred and twenty pounds, she was the very picture of harmless and innocent. Well, until you looked into her eyes and saw something far older and grimmer than a mere gal looking back at you. She couldn't help it. Ever since she gained the ability to read minds after hitting puberty, she hadn't been the same. Looking into the minds of sexual predators, sociopaths, spousal batterers, cheaters, hustlers and other creeps daily had changed her. Physically, she was twenty two years old. A stellar student at the celebrated business school of Capital University in Ottawa, Ontario. Well, she was so much more than that.

For a moment, her impression of him, her glimpse into his true self must have showed on her face because the bigoted sociopath sitting at the desk looked uncertain. Rising from his seat, he asked her if she was alright. I am fine, she said quickly, all but dashing into the library. Moments later she was upstairs, on the silent floor, sitting at a computer at the center of the room. She logged onto her account, and accessed her homework on WebCT. Business ethics never looked more fun to her than they did in this moment. She took her headphones from her backpack and hooked them up to the PC before logging onto YouTube. Soon afterwards, with Linkin Park's song What I've Done blasting into her ears, she smiled and went to work. Just another day in the life of a Telepath.