"You guys used that word before. What's a progenitor?"

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves. Why don't we talk about some other concepts, and then we will come back to that?" He stood up, walked to the whiteboard and picked up a marker.

"You're the teacher," she said.

Ping drew three concentric circles on the board with a blue marker. In the smallest, he wrote the word "thought." In the second, he wrote "perception," and, in the third, he wrote "reality." Above the circles he wrote the t.i.tle, Levels of Sentience, and then turned back around.

"Do you know the word sentience?"

"You mean like when they find a sentient life form on Star Trek?" Sam asked.

"They have Star Trek where you are from but not corn dogs?" Mara asked.

"They have Star Trek in every realm."

"Let's try to stay on point. Think of sentience as awareness. In this instance, the level of awareness you have about existence." He pointed to the t.i.tle he had written. "The lowest level is thought. Awareness of what goes on in your mind. The next is perception, what goes on around you in your realm-the pixels in your interface, as you call them. The highest level is reality, an awareness of how things actually are. Do you follow?"

"I think so," Mara said. "I'm still having trouble understanding why you are explaining all of this to me. Do I really need to know all of this to deal with those people who crossed over?"

"Absolutely you need to understand these concepts. Just be patient a little while longer. We're getting to the good part."

"I was wondering if there was going to be one of those."

"Now, there are people who have the ability-a metaphysical talent, if you will-to manipulate one of these levels of sentience. For example, as we have seen, Sam can alter people's thoughts, the lowest level of sentience." Ping pointed to the innermost circle on the board.

"Only temporarily," Sam added.

"Next there are people who can alter perception." Ping pointed to the second circle. "These people can change how we perceive the realm or dimension we are in. They are called pretenders."

"They can rearrange the pixels in our reality?" Mara asked.

"Exactly."

"So they, a witch or a wizard or whatever, could conjure up a car or a building or even a person out of nothing?"

"Yes, a pretender could do that. However, I resist the comparison to witches and wizards. We are not talking about magic-which, in most cases, is nothing but flimflamery or superst.i.tion. Pretenders use the laws of metaphysics to manipulate their realms, not magic wands and broomsticks. We are dealing with reality here, not fairy tales. People only think these things are magic because they do not understand them."

"Do all pretenders know they are using the laws of metaphysics or do some of them actually believe they are witches or wizards?" Mara asked.

"I suppose there are pretenders who think they have magic and are ignorant of the way things actually work."

"So it's just semantics. You call it metaphysics. They call it magic."

"It's more than a poor choice of words. It's ignorance, but let's not get hung up on this right now."

"Okay, let's talk about the transparent electricity guy at the shop. Sam said he was not real. He was something created by one of these pretenders. We know this because Sam could not prompt him, right?"

"Right," Sam said. "Since he was just an illusion created by a pretender, he did not have any real thoughts for me to manipulate. I can't prompt people who are not real."

Mara turned to Ping. "So who's the pretender that created the transparent guy?

"We don't know," Ping said.

"When you say the things these pretenders create aren't real, you're not saying they are just illusions. They can hurt us, do real damage, right?"

"Absolutely. If that transparent guy were to stab you, you could die, or this version of you could. The question of whether he is real or not is a metaphysical one. In this physical realm, he could do real harm to someone."

"So not only do we have creatures who have crossed over from other realms thanks to the accident on the airplane, we have some pretender out there creating other creatures and G.o.d-knows-what as well?"

"I'm afraid so." Ping nodded. "And that pretender seems to be interested in the Chronicle and knows you have it."

The three of them were silent for a few minutes until Mara pointed to the board, indicating the outermost circle. "You've got one more level there."

"Ah, the highest level is reality. Only a progenitor can manipulate that level of sentience."

"I thought you said a progenitor was the one who could activate the Chronicle."

"That is true. Only a progenitor can activate the Chronicle, but that is not all a progenitor can do. A progenitor can shape consciousness, alter reality at will."

"I'm not sure I understand what you are saying. Are you saying I am like one of these progenitors?"

"You are not like one. You are one."

CHAPTER 34.

DESPITE MARA'S PROTESTS, Ping decided it was a good time to take a break and get some lunch. He refused to continue the discussion while they sat in the Mexican restaurant back on Hawthorne. Mara was silent throughout the meal while Sam and Ping compared notes on their origins.

"Okay, when people in your realm are on an airplane that is getting ready to crash, does everyone on board just dissolve into dust while the plane goes down?" Sam asked. "Then they just rea.s.semble themselves and catch the next flight?"

"Something like that. Of course, someone has to try and make sure the plane doesn't come down in a populated area." Ping smiled.

"Why didn't you dissolve in our plane accident? You were floating in the river when I met you. Why didn't you just poof then?"

"When I crossed over, I was more confused than threatened. At some point I got stunned and ended up in the river."

"So, if you're swimming in the ocean and a shark attacks you, do you disperse into mud?"

"I suppose it would look that way to you." As Sam started to ask another question, Ping raised his hand and said, "Why don't you tell Mara a little about where you come from?"

"Food shortages, dirty water, no power, no heat, homeless people everywhere. Who wants to hear about that?"

"That sounds terrible," Mara said.

"You're telling me," he said, turning to Ping. "So why do you think people here are so ignorant about metaphysics and how the universe works? My realm sucks, and we know more about it than these people." He looked at Mara, who rolled her eyes.

"I can't speak for where you came from, but, in my realm, there are legends and myths about a progenitor from thousands of years ago. Knowledge about the nature of existence has been pa.s.sed down from those times. It even became the basis of some religions. This place seems metaphysically inert, lacking any awareness of true consciousness. I don't think this realm has ever had a true progenitor."

"Until now." Sam smiled and pointed a taco at Mara.

Half an hour later, they walked back into the warehouse, each taking their place on the mats in front of the whiteboard.

"Are we ready to begin?" Ping asked.

"I have questions." Mara locked eyes with him.

"I thought you might."

"Other than metaphorically, I have never altered reality or shaped consciousness before, just ask my mom. If that's the definition of a progenitor, I'm not your girl."

"Let me ask you a few questions, if you will bear with me."

"Go ahead."

"Have you ever tried to repair something and failed to do so?"

"What?"

"Has there ever been a device you've attempted to fix and not been able to?"

"Well, of course-"

"What was it?"

"I can't remember a specific example."

"Nothing? Something that was so beyond repair you could not fix it? Doesn't that strike you as odd, that you can't think of one instance?"

"I have a knack." Mara shrugged. "What are you saying? I have a magical power that allows me to fix things?"

"Mara, only the uninformed believe in magic. What you have is an ability to shape reality, a natural gift, not a supernatural one. It may seem like magic to the uneducated, but it is grounded in metaphysics."

"So what does that make me? A metaphysician? A metaphysicist?"

"It makes you a progenitor," Ping said.

"Sounds like an old man in a white robe or something."

"Let me ask you another question, about your friend Buddy."

"Buddy? What about Buddy?"

"Do you believe he can really talk to his father on his cell phone?"

"Of course not. His father is dead."

"I think you might be mistaken."

"I'm pretty sure his father is dead."

"That is not what I meant. I think Buddy is able to speak to his father using the phone you keep repairing for him."

"That's ridiculous. You and Opie here may have convinced me that you flew in from an alternate reality on a ball of blue light, but you will never persuade me that I gave Buddy a line into the great beyond."

"I talked to him myself."

"To Buddy?"

"No, his father."

"You might have talked to someone, but it wasn't his father. What point are you trying to make?"

"You said you have never altered reality before. I believe you have done it a great many times without realizing it. Your technical and mechanical abilities are impressive, but I believe your efforts are supplemented by your metaphysical abilities without you even knowing it. I suspect there are a great number of events in your life that cannot be explained away simply because you are good with a screwdriver."

"You are grasping at straws. You have no proof of that."

Sam interjected, "Who is Opie?"

"Check out The Andy Griffith Show the next time you are online," Mara said, turning back to Ping.

"Most progenitors have traditionally had extraordinary skills in mathematics, music or the sciences. It never occurred to me that an awareness of how the universe works could be applied so seamlessly to fixing gadgets and appliances. I suppose it makes sense. You seem to be interested in applying your abilities physically in a way I had not antic.i.p.ated. I always imagined a progenitor would be more philosophical, more of a thinker than a doer."

"Sorry to disappoint you. Maybe you should take that as a sign I'm not really your progenitor."

"Ah...but there is the Chronicle, and there is no getting around that," he said, pulling the copper medallion from his jacket pocket and setting it on the ground in front of her.

Mara stared at it. "What are you doing with that?"

"Pick it up."

"No. I told you that thing scares me."

"I'm not asking you to activate it. I just want you to look at it."

Mara bent forward and lifted the medallion off the ground. She ran her fingers over the crystals and felt the indentations of the glyphs in the metal.

"What do these symbols mean?" she asked. "I've never seen anything like them. They don't look like hieroglyphs or pictograms. They almost look technical."

"That is what I want to talk about. The face of the Chronicle represents some of the concepts we have discussed thus far in our lesson. Can you see what I am talking about?"

"Well, there are three concentric circles like the ones you drew on the board."