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Re-Use License for content from Pyegar's Small Powers domain  by Dave Davis is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivative Works 3.0 License. .
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Skott (#4)

The sheer fact that it was possible – for him at least – to nudge strangers or their personal items into harm’s way, without having to touch them, didn’t seem all that surprising to Skott. What thrilled him, each time, was how good it felt.

Skott didn’t remember his first one, nor did he specifically remember many since. There was the one girl who teetered over on her bike, and the car hit her, and there was a splash of blood. That moment was fixed in his memory. But most of the little encounters, as he called them, most were not so spectacular. It started with a hot coffee spilled onto a lap. (Having imagined it happening just before, when it happened he nearly snarfed his own. ) Another time it was some idiot’s eyeglasses shattering on the floor. A baby carriage wheels away in a parking lot. Skott enjoyed the flow, and never made plans.

Into this psychotic paradise had entered Marie. She was indefatigable in pursuit of her dreams and objectives, she was beautiful, and for unfathomable reasons she thought Skott was cute. Somehow, between meeting in church and then working together on a podcast, they had become a sometime couple. Certainly she cared for him—and somewhere, some version of Skott cared for her. On days when he was with her, he nudged no one, spilt no drinks, caused no “accidents.” Not on the train over, not during lunch in the park, not during their quick tryst, not on a ride home, not in his apartment that night. “I don’t know, the imp just goes quiet when she is around,” he put it to himself. Last weekend they had met for lunch together with their parents, and everything was going great.

Later in the week, Marie hadn’t answered the several voice mails he, and other church friends, left on her phone. No updates on her Facebook or Twitter. Then she didn’t come to services on Sunday, when he went, with the Pastor and some church elders in tow. No answer at the door, and they all realized something was wrong. He called and checked with her parents, and filed the missing persons report himself.

People started getting nudged again by mid-week.

But the single line of print text he found taped to his apartment door on Thursday froze him in place.

“For $3K Euro I will provide proof of life.”

 

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