Free Mind Over Psyche by Karina L. Fabian Page A

him from “handling” the aliens by lopping their heads off. Her mirth cut short when she felt a stirring in her gut that had nothing to do with digestio n or fear.
    I did not know it was the Ydrel , he shrugged laconically, a hint of a smile showing on his scarred face. He rose and left.
    If he is the Ydrel, Leinad persisted.
    His comment barely registered. Her own talent had alerted her to a disturbance in the earth. She had to find it, contain it if necessary before the earthquake grew to harm others. She pulled deep into herself, sought the shifti ng plates…
    She hardly registered Leinad rising to follo w Salgoud.
    *
    Deryl and Josh had not noticed the discussion going on around them. Deryl said, “Relax and just remember the razor. It has to be a memory, not imagining, though. I can get the details from there. I promise I won’t go searching about for deep dark secrets.”
    â€œBetter not,” Josh warned as he shut his eyes. He rested his chin on one hand and thought about his grandfathe r’s razor.
    It was definitely simple: a straight, long blade that folded out of the handle. For a moment, he saw it, shining and suspended against a black backdrop, then the scene filled in, and it was held in the strong hand of his grandfather, and Joshua was six years old, sitting on the edge of the counter, watching in fascination as his grandfather brought the sharp blade up to his neck and scraped off the hair and shaving cream with deft strokes. It had been one of the happiest days in his life when Grandpa moved in with them.
    â€œThis is how real men shave,” he said. “Not with that sissy thing your dad uses.” He rinsed the blade under the steaming tap and pointed it at his dad’s electric razor before bringing the blade to his face again. Joshua snickered at the thought of his dad having a sissy anything. “Told me he has to buy one every couple of years. Throwing good money away on a fancy piece of technology when this is all you need. Now, my pa gave me this blade back in...” He paused to scrape his lip and never did tell Joshua the exact year. He hadn’t known it then, but his grandfather’s memory was starting to go, the first symptom of the disease that would take his life. “I was going to war. Lied about my age. Had to—hard enough for a Black to get into the army those days. Not like it is now. You learning your c iphering?”
    â€œYes, sir. And I can read Curious George all b y myself.”
    â€œGood.” He pulled his cheek long and flat, making his words slur. “Your color ain’t never gonna be a hindrance, and don’t you ever use it as an excuse. Un derstan’?”
    â€œNo.”
    His grandfather glanced at him, shrugged. “You will. You better, if you want to be a man. You get old enough, I’ll teach you to shave li ke a man.”
    That time had come far sooner than either had expected. Joshua was only eight years old when the disease that baffled physicians had stolen his grandfather’s strength, and he insisted Joshua shave him. He’d been letting Joshua play for months, scraping the fluffy mint-scented shaving cream off his face, first with a covered blade, then with the blunt side, and he had flatly announced to Joshua’s mother that the boy was the only one he’d trust with his spec ial blade.
    â€œI’m not using one of those pretty disposables like you ladies use on your legs. I had my first shave with this razor and by God, I’ll have my last by this razor. Now you get on out of here, little girl, so’s he can take care of me right,” he ordered, and Joshua’s mother, who had always been the ultimate authority in her home, lowered her eyes and left.
    â€œAll right now, Joshua,” he said as the door closed behind her. He settled back in his chair and closed his eyes.
    Joshua stared at the door. “She didn’t ev en argue!”
    â€œâ€™Course