"Mike, come here a second!" Paul Welch yelled down the stairs to his son. He was moving some boxes which were marked only with "Handle With Care". Paul knew what they contained, but he also knew that if the boxes were handled with care, nothing would happen.
"Okay, I'll be right up!" Mike shouted back from his post at the computer. He spent a great deal of his time at that computer, more than he cared to admit. He was in football, and up until recently had been in wrestling. He had given it up for reasons unknown to everyone except Mike. He knew that wrestlers and coaches alike would hound him, but he had finally decided that he still didn't want to. Even he wasn't sure as to why, but he had made his choice. There was no turning back now.
"Mike, get your ass up here! I have to get this back to work!" Paul shouted down the stairs again. He loved Mike, but the kid didn't listen worth a damn. He had no discipline. He also loved pushing his luck as far as homework - he didn't like to do it, and was finally forced to when his dad started to keep in touch with every single teacher he had via e-mail.
"Sorry, here I come," Mike said as he turned off the computer and headed upstairs. He took two stairs with every stride, counting as he went. The floor beneath the first step was one, then he stepped to 3, then 5. The floor above the staircase was fifteen. He saw some big boxes on the table and counter in the kitchen, marked "Handle With Care." "Hey Dad, what's in these boxes?" Mike asked.
Paul kept his cool, and made a joke to avoid the subject until later. "These are the parts of teenagers who ask me dumb questions," he said with a grin as he pushed Mike. "Oh, well in that case," Mike said as he pushed his dad back. This turned into a playful scuffle, which Paul won. He always did. Despite his 50 years of age and beer belly, he was remarkably strong. He also knew all the ways to stop someone from attacking or even defending themselves. He had been in the Vietnam War, and learned all these things over thirty years ago. But they stuck with him, clear as a bell. Mike was strong, there was no doubt about that, but Paul was also faster.
Mike grinned again as they got up and started to move the boxes out to the car. "Someday, I'm going to beat you," he grinned as they began to load the boxes into the car.
They pulled into Lasertech Energy, where Paul was an engineer, and parked the tan Chevy TrailBlazer that Paul drove near his cubicle, in the Engineering Department. Paul unlocked the door, and brought out a cart. Mike and Paul started to put the boxes onto the cart, and pushed in through the door. "These have to go in the supply room," Paul told Mike as he pushed the cart down the hallways of the dark building. Mike wondered why the boxes were supposed to be put back on Saturday. When his dad opened the door, a few other men were standing in there. "Hey, Paul" was the greeting from every man there.
"Hey, guys," Paul said back. Mike pushed the cart into the room, and started to pick up a box. "Where should I put these?" he asked.
Paul pushed the box back down onto the cart. "We'll take care of it from here." Mike was then shooed outside, and the door closed. He could still hear what the men said as he pressed his ear to the vent on the bottom of the door. He was curious as to why these dumb boxes were so special. They weren't even all that heavy.
"Okay, boys. Let's put the thing together," Paul said as the four men in the room started to open the boxes. They read some simple instructions packaged inside the box, and assembled what appeared to be a space-age cannon. "Wow, this big thing is supposed to supply an endless amount of energy?" one of the man asked.
"Yeah," Paul responded. "We turn it by hand for a little while, and then it'll run off the energy it makes. It's very efficient, but you have to be damn careful when you use it. It fires a beam of pure energy. That's how it works, it's like a battery charger. Put some of these where we have substations now, it's cheaper and more efficient."
"So in other words, we're going to be rich," one of the men said.
"Oh, yeah. Income of all the employees is supposed to be doubled if this works. For the four of us, it's tripled. But better yet, you guys won't have to do as much work to earn your money."
"Yeah, but you got screwed on that part, Paul," One man chuckled. "You're an engineer. You have to make sure more of these bastards are cooked up."
Paul laughed. "Yeah, I know. But it's worth it. Now let's try and energize something with it, make sure it won't just punch a hole into whatever it touches."
The men put on safety goggles, and began to crank the handle on the side until there were a few sparks. Then, there was a steady electrical current. The handle fell off, just like it was supposed to, and the axle it was on spun faster. The electrical current became a low hum, and the entire rear chamber glowed a sky blue. Mike cracked the door, and the magnetic power of the machine slowly but firmly pulled it open. The door was wide open, and Mike stood in the doorway.
"Jesus, Mike! Put these on!" Paul said as he tossed Mike a pair of safety goggles. Mike reached up to grab them, and the magnetic forces pulled the end of the machine toward the doorway, and consequently toward Mike.
It reached energy discharge state once it pointed at Mike. A beam of brilliant blue struck Mike squarely in the chest. His eyes bulged, and he recoiled slightly - but was not blown through the door. Paul looked on in horror, thinking that his son had been run through with the energy. But, he then saw that the beam never went through Mike's back. It simply struck him. And the machine showed no signs of overload.
"Good God, he's absorbing the energy," Paul said. He turned off the machine, and Mike slowly sank to the floor.
Inside of Mike's head, he remembered what his biology teacher had told him about ATP, the molecule that cells use to get energy. He then realized that his cells had an alternate power source. The energy he had just been hit with had flowed into every cell in Mike's body. It broke down all unnecessary fats, turning them into still more energy for the cells to take in. Then, Mike felt a sort of control switch instinct inside his mind, a way to gauge how much of this energy to use and how to use it. He then blacked out.
Mike came to at home, in his own bed. "Oh, thank God you're okay," his mom said as she held him. Tears flowed from her eyes. His whole family was watching over him. They all had dried tears on their faces. His nephew, Timothy, was still crying, but only because he was scared and didn't know why everyone else was making so much noise. They all looked relieved to see Mike sit up. Mike wasn't quite sure what had happened to him, and neither was anyone else. "Wow, I think that I'm okay. But, I'm really not even sure."
"That doesn't matter, you're fine. But don't scare us like that again," his mother told him. Mike wasn't exactly sure what to think, but he knew that something was different.
After his family left him for a minute, he went into the bathroom and looked at himself in the mirror. His mouth fell open.
All the excess fat he was trying to get rid of was gone. He looked like he had been weightlifting all his life. Also, his pores had been cleaned out. His face was as clear as it had ever been. He beamed. He didn't know what the downsides were to what had just happened to him, but he didn't really care. He was cute. He flexed a little in the mirror, and then went back upstairs.
As Mike lay in bed that night, he fell asleep very quickly. He dreamed, and for the first time it was a dream he could remember.
He was floating through the air, with some of his friends. He recognized Mack, his friend since kindergarten, Dan, his friend since the 6th grade, his brother, Matt, and his girlfriend Sarah. His friend, James, flew in with the rest. Then, a guy he knew from school - Joe Cunningham - floated up in front of them all. He laughed aloud. Mike felt anger rise up, but it wasn't normal. His anger was a very real force, akin to heat or electricity. He could feel it coursing through him, and it was so real it was almost tangible. He wanted to throw his anger at Joe, so he pointed at him.
Much to his surprise, his anger flowed to his finger and fired as a beam of light. Mike couldn't help but smile. But, Joe batted the light off to his side. He then held his hand above his head, and a ball of light formed. Joe threw it at the group, and they were all engulfed.
Mike awoke with a start, and saw a glow fading, as if someone had turned on a light and dimmed it upon his awakening. He felt strangely warm, and had kicked all of the sheets on his bed to the foot of the bed. he pulled them back up, and went back to sleep.
Mike awoke as he heard footsteps upstairs. He felt a little deflated. He hoped that his dad would forget, just once, and he could sleep in. But, he then heard footsteps. His door cracked open slightly, and he prepared for an all-too-familiar exchange.
"Hey, Mike?"
"Yeah, Dad."
"Wanna get up for church?"
Not particularly, ran through Mike's head. But he knew there would be hell to pay if he didn't respond with
"Sure."
He then heard the same exchange between his dad and his brother. He threw off the sheets, and headed for the bathroom to take his shower. When he turned on the light, he was shocked again to see what stared back at him in the mirror.
His body didn't appear to have an ounce of fat! He still couldn't get over that. He turned on the water, and let it run for a moment until it was hot. He used this time to think, like he always did.
Man, this is weird. I get hit by a perpetual energy machine, and instead of dying like I should have I lose all my body fat. Wonder if I'm any stronger.
He checked the water. It was perfect. He stepped into the stream of water, and immediately felt better. He let the water pour over him for a while. It was a bliss that almost negated the early rising that he despised so much. It brought a smile to his face.
After his shower, he opened his brother's door. He then recited another painfully common morning exchange.
"Matt?"
"Yeah?"
"Time to get up."
"'Kay."
Mike then returned to his own room to put in his contacts. After doing so, he went back to bed to lie and think for a while, and perhaps doze. He thought more about what had happened, and still couldn't make any sense of it. He knew damn well that he should be toast. But, for whatever reason, he was still exchanging oxygen.
What doesn't kill you makes you stronger. Well, I must have gotten thrashed pretty good because I'm in phenomenal shape. He then stopped pondering life, and got dressed to go to church.
When he kneeled to pray, Mike felt a divine presence very near him. It was as if he was channeling the will of God through his own body. He then prayed for guidance.
Hey God, it's Mike again. I'm sure you remember my frenzied pleading when getting shot by that machine. Well, now that I've begged not to die I'm curious as to why I survived. Any guidance would be appreciated.
Mike then felt a compelling desire to do something. He realized there was no server to help the priest. He walked up and offered to take the job. The priest sent him to the back to get a robe and get ready. When he did, he was struck in the face by a low-hanging crucifix.
His rage welled up inside of him, much more than what was reasonable, so much so that he wanted to scream. He wanted to hit something. He wanted to do anything to get rid of this overwhelming anger that he felt.
Then, he snapped.
A burst of golden light came forth, and a flame of this energy was created and maintained by Mike's very life force, surrounding him. His hair flew into the air, and he felt it warm substantially. He then had a deeper knowledge of what had happened.
The Lord changed me when this happened. I've become something not quite human. This energy can be used to manipulate matter, increase my physical strength, and even can be used as a weapon. I've changed into something more. This should be interesting.
As the mass continued, Mike was asked to bring forth the book for the priest to read from. He activated a small part of this energy that he had, held his arms open, his elbows at his sides, and levitated the book. The priest looked at it, and was shocked. "You are a very fortunate young man," he told Mike. "This day God is truly with us."
Mike smiled. "Actually, God has always been here. He just decided to make his presence known a bit through me." Mike closed his eyes.
"Observe," he said as the pages in the book began to turn. It closed, then opened again. Mike levitated himself a bit, his feet together, arms still open. He then balled a fist, and bent his arms slightly but forcefully down - as if bringing something forth from within himself.
This is exactly what he did as his hair stood up again, he felt the warmth, the strength, flowing even into his hair. The aura of life force warmed him thoroughly. A roar of surprise went through the congregation. Mike beamed with pride, but then stopped showing off and allowed the mass to continue as usual.