A Day in a Life in After World: Farsid

A Day in a Life in After World: Farsid

  Copyright ©2012 Eric Johnson

  The body lay before him shaking. It was empty now, a husk. Inside the head its mind had been carefully carved with a mental scalpel and the most valuable parts had been stripped away. The left over parts were like scrambled eggs.

  The person in the body was once named Garush Opal. He was a gemstone trader. He had sources for high quality gems of nearly every type and had a remarkable mark-up on them. It was information he was very stingy with and that was his downfall.

  Laying on the floor next to him, unconscious, was Farsid. Farsid was a rare type of human known as a witch. Rarer still his ability was as a mentalist. He could listen in on the minds of others around him; he could plant images or thoughts in people’s heads. With the right conditions, he could cut open a person’s mind and pull their knowledge right out and make it his own. This always resulted in a husk of a body as a left over. But Farsid would awaken afterwards and remember the knowledge as if it had always been his own. He considered it a price worth paying; especially it was not a price he had to pay.

  Farsid’s body stirred. He moaned and rolled over on to his stomach. His head hurt, but it was a pain he enjoyed. It was a pain he knew meant he had succeeded. It was the pain of his head digesting and arranging its new knowledge.

  Farsid smiled inwardly. Everything he sought was there. He even knew the location of a hidden cache of jewels that Garush had not told him about.

  He lifted himself up onto all fours and the movement sent searing pain from the base of his skull to his forehead. He winced and paused, then continued to get up more slowly.

  He thought through the inventory of the cache and realized that the gemstones there alone would be enough to retire on. But he would not be satisfied. He knew he would want more. Now he knew the sources and prices. And he could always eliminate those middle men if need be.

  He sat down on the bed and let his head stop spinning. It settled down to a dull throb. More information kept revealing itself to him as his brain organized it. Apparently Mr. Opal had been quite the lady’s man. Farsid had memories of bedding many women across many different cities. Those memories were now his own as if he was the one who experienced them.

  He looked down at the unfortunate body. It was still shaking some as the brain in it no longer knew how to work the body. On the forehead of the body still rested the coin. He hated that coin and wanted to be rid of it, but also he knew he would not be able to make it without it. It was a crutch. A meaningless crutch and yet he could not focus enough to scrape a mind without it.

  He bent and picked up the platinum coin off of the body and held it up to look at it. There was nothing special about it. He had gotten it at a trade house in Silver Valley. He found himself obsessed with it at the time and used it to help him focus in meditations. He treasured it so much that he found it was very easy to focus on and his abilities grew. But when he tried to focus without the coin, he was not capable of as great of feats. He had tried other things to focus on: talismans, other coins, even other platinum coins. Nothing was the same. It was something in his head that was stuck on this one stupid coin.

  He spotted his coin purse lying on the bed where he had dropped it the night before. He reached back for it, opened it, and unceremoniously dropped the platinum coin in with the other coins.

  He stood up, winced again at the pain in his head but ignored it as best as he could. He knew the pain would be gone very shortly.

  Standing in front of the mirror he looked at the unkempt look of his clothes. He had on the attire of a gentleman right down to the ribbon tie and stovetop hat. But his clothes were beaten and worn. He would have to replace these soon, but his favorite tailor was a week’s journey away. Till then he would need to do what he always did anyway. Make people think his clothes were perfect.

  As he looked at himself in the mirror his clothing seemed to change before his eyes. It was perfectly pressed, clean, and spotless. It looked as if it had moments before been taken off of the dress dummy. It was an illusion. His mind was telling him it looked this way. Anyone else around him would see it this way too. It was one of his easiest mental tricks and took very little effort on his part. Even if someone saw the clothing the way it actually was, he would then convince them mentally that they had seen it perfectly the entire time.

  His headache was fading; he was ready to go to breakfast. He looked around the room. It was not his own room, it belonged to Mr. Opal. Farsid was very careful not to disturb or take anything from the room. It needed to look like the gem trader had experienced an episode.

  Satisfied, he unbolted the door and stepped outside. After closing the door, he reached for the coin from his coin bag. He stopped himself suddenly. It was a crutch he reminded himself. He could do this without it.

  He concentrated on the body in the next room. He could feel it. He could see the grey storm that was now its mind, but he could not quite get a good enough focus to assert himself on it. He gritted his teeth and tried harder. He tried to put himself into the body and the harder he tried the more the body seemed to resist him.

  Finally he released a great whoosh of air and gave up. He pulled the pouch out and pulled the platinum coin out. He knew it by feel. As he held it he already could feel his thoughts with more clarity.

  He looked at the coin and examined the contours of the impression. Every curve, shadow, and groove revealed themselves to him in great detail. He was focused solely on the coin. His entire world was this coin. He shifted this precision focus onto the body in the next room. He slipped into the body the same way someone might put on a pair of shoes. Under his control the body stood up, walked over to the door and bolted it from the inside. He then directed the body to the desk in the room and had it sit down in the chair. He then released his hold on the body and returned to his own.

  This was something he could only do to an unresisting body such as one that just had its mind scraped or if they were unconscious. He had done it a couple of times to sleeping bodies, but they tended to wake up and he would lose connection.

  He frowned at the coin and put it back in the pouch.

  Another guest of the inn walked past him in the hall and said their polite greetings. A moment later they forgot they had seen him.

  Farsid made his way downstairs and out of the front of the inn. All along the way people who saw him suddenly remembered that they actually hadn’t.

  Being in a city this large was often difficult for Farsid. The problem was that there were too many minds. He had learned to block them out for the most part, in fact he could shunt them completely if he wanted, but then he felt defenseless and naked as anyone around him could be plotting something.

  Stepping outside, the minds of the city hit him like a load of bricks. He had to squelch it back so that it was not so overwhelming.

  He set out to the market place to pick up something to eat. He was not ready to be seen yet so he kept up a radius of not being interesting. Like this people would not pay any attention to him. Like this he was just one of the crowd.

  Nothing in the market place really seemed like something he wanted. He decided to walk on through the market and went down to the harbor. There was a restaurant there he had eaten at and very much enjoyed. He enjoyed it enough to even pay for his food and not just convince the waitress he had already paid.

  As he stepped inside he let down his guard so that he would be noticed again. The maître d’ noticed him come in and left her podium to greet him. She got him a perfect seat in the front window so he could watch the harbor.
<
br />   Last time he was here he had the grilled trout but that was for dinner. He looked over the menu and the foods described made him even hungrier.

  After a suitable time, the waitress returned to the table. “Good morning sir. Have you decided what you would like to order?”

  “Could I get a braised beef crepe?” He asked.

  “Of course.” She replied, writing down his order. “The dairyman has just been by this morning. Would you like some sour whip on it?”

  This was a new one for him. “What is a sour whip?”

  “Carl has come up with a wonderful cool blend of heavy cream and butter milk whipped together into a cream sauce with body that really compliments the beef with a creamy yet tangy flavor.”

  “That sounds delightful.” Farsid stated. “Could I also get a bowel of strawberries in yogurt on the side? And an orange juice.”

  Strawberries and oranges typically came a long ways to get to the restaurant from somewhere up or down the Concourse River which is what was right outside the window. Ordering these denoted exuberance on his part. But he could afford it.

  “Yes sir.” I will be back shortly with your drink. Would you like some toast while you wait?”

  He nodded and she was off.

  Through the window he watched the boats coming and going. A