Chapter 1- Food for Thought

I sat quietly in the back of the stately library as I always did, watching the ebb and flow of humanity pass before me. None of them took notice of me, and if they did they would still have no idea who I was or what I could do. I prided myself on my ability to look like a nobody, all the while watching and observing.

There was so much to be learned about a person without ever saying a word. Take for example shoes. Did a woman wear Jimmy Choos that were too tight just for vanity and recognition of status? If a businessman had on newly polished loafers- chances are he was on his way to meet a new client he wanted to impress. If they were well worn, he was established and comfortable in his career. People who wore sandals were either on vacation or non-conformists. This was just one area. Factor in clothing, jewelry, handbags and especially facial expressions and you could damn near write an essay on who they were and their cultural preferences.

But I never really had to think about any of these things, it all just seemed so obvious. Call it my gift.

I am aware that not everyone can do this, I guess I have always known in some way that I was different from others. Looking back now I was probably a very precocious child, somehow having access to knowledge that other children did not. I learned by watching and the answers became as clear as if the teacher had written it in chalk on the board.

I glanced down at the book in my hand so as not to appear suspicious. I had read Darwin's Origin of the Species in high school, but the science stacks were the darkest in the library and it was the first book I picked off the shelf as I took my seat. Besides, I was at home here. I did well in both math and science in school. Again, because of the ease with which I was able to integrate and follow theories based on the systems they attempted to explain. I smirked despite myself; I think I was the only person in my class to get an A in physics II. I could discuss advanced mathematical proofs and string theory with equal ease, but as you might imagine not exactly Mr. Popularity. I didn't go to dances or sports games and I had no friends. People only noticed me in the hallway if they ran into me. This went on for the entire four years of public school.

A sigh escaped my lips as I absentmindedly turned the pages of the worn volume. What a wasted life.

I didn't go to college. I should have, it may have made a difference. Get out of Queens, meet new people, fall in love, get drunk and miss an exam- it is all part of getting to know who you are. I didn't do that. Nope, the son of a watchmaker stayed home with his slightly infantile mother and learned to repair watches himself. How could I leave her? She was almost destroyed when I moved into my own apartment at 25 not more than 10 blocks away.

I became aware of the slight but pointed feeling of irritation. I didn't want to spend one more second ruminating on the past. I squinted my eyes and tried to clear my head to better focus on the task at hand. I came here for something and I wasn't leaving without it.

I scanned the vast room again. It was then I spotted her by the circulation desk. She was helping an older man locate a book on fly fishing when I stood behind him in line. While she looked up the information on a computer, I thought of what I might ask in order to elicit her services. Whatever it was, it had to get her away from that desk and from other people. I had noted a door to an interior hallway by the medical reference section. My mind raced…what could I possibly ask for that would get her back there?

"May I help you, sir?" Her voice was light and sweet and lacked the insincerity most customer service workers obviously felt. Caught off guard, I approached the desk with a sheepish smile and stammered, "I am looking for information on bilirubin levels in liver patients." She had an amused look on her face. "Post-transplant." I quickly added with a decisive nod.

I was amazed at my own ability to create such official sounding bullshit on the fly sometimes. A 'silver tongue' I have heard it called. Not an ability per se, but fascinating nonetheless considering I had always been quiet and shy and spent as little time talking as possible. I knew bilirubin had something to do with the liver, but that was as far as my logic went. No matter, she seemed impressed and began typing on her keyboard with a smile still on her face.

I tentatively placed my hands on the desk and leaned forward in anticipation. She was not what you would call beautiful, but she possessed a certain allure for me nonetheless. I was almost honored that I would be the last to benefit from her cheer and eagerness to help.

I almost salivated when I thought of possessing her power. What the other patrons of the library and no doubt her coworkers did not know was that her consultations with the computer were hardly necessary; she was a walking card catalog. In her mind she stored the locations and topics of most books within these walls. She had near perfect eidetic memory and soon it would be mine.

After enough time had passed for the charade, she turned her face to me and stated, "We do not have any books on liver transplants, but we do have an extensive collection of research journals, several of which deal exclusively with transplant medicine."

I forced my lips to spread across my face into a smile and said in a low and sultry tone , "That will do nicely."

I followed her to a rack of large leather bound books, each containing a year's worth of journal articles on topics from anesthesiology to neonatal neurology. My heart skipped a beat when I spotted the door only a row away. I quickly looked around and did not note any nearby patrons that may interfere.

When she turned her back to me, it was as if my body took on a life of its own without my brain's input. I watched as one would view a movie as my arms quickly embraced her, one hand covering her mouth while the other held her upper body close to mine and my legs pulled backwards until we reached the door. I used my hip to push in the bar that spanned the width of the door and it swung open easily and shut quietly.

The hallway was white and illuminated brightly. I continued to drag her halfway down the hall until I found a small storage closet. It was tiny and I had to straddle her body to get the door shut.

"Please…I have two children" She whimpered as she tried to crawl away, but only pushed harder against the unforgiving cinder block wall. As if I cared. Her protestations were not going to keep me from my goal.

I squatted over her and used my telekinesis to hold her head while I squeezed her neck tightly. I didn't want her to have the breath to scream, which she would attempt any time now. I waited for a few seconds for the oxygen to deplete in her brain so she would become more docile and disoriented, noting first the panic and then the fogginess in her eyes. With my other hand, I pointed at her forehead and cut a thin but deep line as I had done so many times before. She choked and kicked and the terror burned hot in her eyes, but I felt nothing. To me it was much like a chicken running around after the head had been cut off- she simply didn't realize she was dead yet.

I walked out of the library into the darkness of the evening, still wiping my hands with the paper towel I found in the storage room. I tossed it in a nearby garbage can and relished the tingling sensation I got when I acquired a new ability. The ticking sound in my head and the almost physical pain caused by the hunger had subsided and I turned and walked down the busy street in the cool rain feeling whole and happy, although I knew it would not last long.