Zodiac (Zodiac, #1)(14)
“Since we have so few Zodai left, and as you are what remains of the pool of candidates, you might as well learn as much as you can, as fast as you can.” He spreads his right hand and shows us his Ring. It’s just a plain steel band—or so it seems. On closer inspection, there’s a faint flickering glow around it.
“It looks like steel, but it’s metallic silicon. Like an Ephemeris, the Ring acts as an extrasensory antenna for picking up Psynergy. Only instead of using it to read the stars, the Ring uses Psynergy to link my conscious to every Zodai in the galaxy—what’s called the Psy Network.”
“I read that a person’s Psynergy signature becomes visible in the Psy Network,” says Nishiko. “What’s it look like?” Just like in class, while the rest of us are trying to process the current lesson, her questioning nature is already pushing us toward the next one.
“It’s different for each of us. As you know from your studies, Psynergy is a combination of your psychic energy—which determines your ability to do things like read the stars and access the Collective Consciousness—and your astrological fingerprint. Your fingerprint is on your birth certificate, and it’s a snapshot of Space at your moment of birth: the location of the stars, the rotation of the planet, the pull of the moons, an infinite number of factors. Since there can never be two of the same fingerprint, every Psynergy signature is unique—but it can still be veiled or altered in the Psy.”
“Why does that matter?” asks Nishi.
By now, Deke would be groaning audibly and begging our teacher to ban Nishiko from speaking for the rest of the lesson—but he doesn’t seem to be taking any of this in. He looks how being Centerless feels.
“It matters for the same reason falsified holograms matter: You can’t be sure who you’re talking to. The better you are at Centering, the easier it will be for you to distinguish people’s signatures so you can be certain of who’s listening. We Zodai are only human, so the Collective Conscious can’t help but reflect our flaws.” Mathias is showing remarkable patience, especially under the circumstances.
“If it’s like reading the Ephemeris, how in the world will we see a signature?” asks Kai. “It’s hard enough just seeing the stars move.”
I’m surprised to hear the interest in Kai’s tone, since he looks as defeated as Deke. Then again, I probably do, too. Maybe we all look exactly the same—like corpses who are inexplicably still breathing.
“Even stars leave faint impressions of their trajectories in the Psy,” says Mathias. “Those small, fading lines are enough for an Astralator to measure a movement’s unique astrological footprint. Similarly, a person’s consciousness also leaves its mark. Have you taken Abyssthe in your classes yet?”
The word is a dagger. It stabs us all in the gut, so that not even Nishi can answer. We just nod.
“Abyssthe uses your mind as the receiver of Psynergy, same as the Ring. Both work by activating parts of your brain normally dormant, and they can help you stay Centered.”
A memory escapes the wall that blocks out my early years. Beyond Centering, Mom’s training also involved memorizing everything there is to know about each House of the Zodiac—traits, constellations, histories. But she only brought up Psynergy once.
She told me Psynergy is the magic that makes star reading possible. She said the brain is most susceptible to Psynergy in children, while it’s still forming, and that’s why she had to make me work as hard as she did.
Mom was certain if I practiced every day, I would one day be able to assert myself fully in the astral plane and see more than any other Zodai. By the time I was five, our lessons were lasting up to ten hours a day.
Two years later, she disappeared. For a while, I kept practicing, even harder than when she was around. I thought if I impressed her enough, she would give us another chance. I thought I could locate her on the star map and convince her to come home.
I bite down on the inside of my lip, shoving the memory deep into my subconscious, somewhere it can’t touch me again.
Mathias turns to go. “There’s an observation turret two decks up, and the captain has given permission for you to visit if you’d like.”
A little later, Deke and I press our faces against the thick, scarred glass of the turret, looking out at Cancer. We’ve already passed the moon rubble, but every now and then we catch chunks of rock flaming through Cancer’s atmosphere and crashing into the ocean. From this distance, it’s hard to make out the tsunamis that must be wracking life on our pods and islands. Cancer appears the same as ever, eternally blue and changeless.
“That moon rubble will form a ring,” says Deke. “We’ll be a ringed planet.”
“So now you’re reading omens?”
“Not omens. Physics.” His turquoise eyes droop at the corners, and he has a puffy, rumpled look. “Our tides will change.”
Our tides nourish the shores around our islands, and every sea farmer knows three-quarters of our planet’s creatures live near shorelines. If our tides shift, what will happen to the plants and fish that feed the rest of the ecosystem? How will Dad’s nar-clams survive?
“Nishiko says people become gods after they die,” I whisper. “That’s what Sagittarians believe. They celebrate death, like it’s a happy event.”