Free Socket 1 - The Discovery of Socket Greeny by Tony Bertauski

guy’s neck again. “ But Pivot doesn’t own me,
boy.”
    “My name is Socket.”
    “ I know.”
    “Then why’d you call me boy?”
    “ I just met you.” He rolled his
bulging eyes. “Do I have to explain everything?”
    “Listen, three or four months ago I was
living a normal life, now I’m reading thoughts and stopping time
and you look like a golden dragon that did some sort of…” I waved
my hands over my head, frantically, “mental scan to steal my
passcodes and now you’re talking to me, without moving your lips.”
We stared at each other, deadpan, until I said, “So, yeah, explain
everything.”
    Pivot’s eyes remained unfocused, but his lips
moved. Sighter nodded.
    “ Fair enough, boy,” Sighter said. “Follow us.”
    We went to the tree. It wasn’t growing in the
stone slab, after all, but against it. The slab dropped off and
below, maybe fifteen feet, was a pond. The tree was rooted in that.
Pivot sat against the tree and Sighter climbed to the top of his
head. Hundreds of grimmets peeked out of hiding places along the
branches, their eyes glowing.
    “ We came to help awaken the human
race.”
    “This gets better every day,” I muttered.
    “ You don’t think Earth is the first planet
in the universe to make a mess out of their evolution, now do
you?”
    “I didn’t even know there was life on other
planets.”
    Sighter shook his head. “You have so much
to learn, boy.”
    “I just got here. Remember?”
    The grimmets fluttered around Pivot like
needy butterflies, fighting to be the next to swing on his fingers.
Sighter stood on his shoulder monitoring the fracas, waving them
off when they got too pushy.
    “So who are you?” I asked the blind kid.
“Your name is Pivot, right?”
    No answer. Then all the grimmets looked up.
Their eyes grew wider. Brighter. They scattered like bugs, found
stones to sit on, branches to hang from. Sighter crossed his arms.
They weren’t looking at me. They looked over my shoulder.
     
    * * * * *
     
    Someone strode across the stone slab. He was
about my age. Each one of his steps landed softly and purposefully.
His hair was black, properly cut. His one-piece suit was loose
fitting, green and beige. It may have been the colors of the
jungle, but it was too clean to belong in the Preserve.
    “Salutations,” he said. “I see they have
finally let you out of the box.”
    I was still taking in the camouflaged onesy
he was wearing and the strange way he walked. It was almost like he
did it perfectly. Whatever that means. Guess he figured I was
confused. He jerked his thumb over his shoulder, not taking his
eyes off me. “The Garrison. They finally let you out. It can get
quite stuffy in there, no?”
    Not a single grimmet stirred. Pivot sat
quietly, unnoticed. My gut sparked like a fire alarm just went
off.
    “I hope you don’t mind, but I believe it is
high time we met.” He extended his hand. “I’m Broak.”
    I shook it. He squeezed my hand tightly, then
quickly let go and rubbed it on his thigh.
    “Your name is Broak?”
    “Indeed, it is,” he said, tipping his head.
“I named myself. Didn’t care for the name I was given, decided I
needed something more regal and fitting. It is a combination of two
of the greatest Paladin warriors ever to live: Braiden Alexander
Faber and Stoak Glacial Ginshen. Braiden and Stoak.” He pronounced
each word crisply. “I am Broak.”
    “How about that,” I stated.
    Broak locked his gaze on me. I felt pressure
surround me, push against my head. I set my feet, prepared for what
might come next, but the probing was exploratory, not penetrating.
It ran over my skin, under my chin, through my scalp.
    “You have an unusual name, as well,” he said.
“Dear Socket.”
    “There’s no dear. Just Socket.”
    “I see.” Broak was humming to himself.
Waiting.
    “I don’t think the name comes from anything,”
I said. “My parents liked tools.”
    People usually laughed at that. Not Broak.
Maybe I should’ve