Technocracy: Epiphany, Part 5

“So that was uneventful,” said Bellona as their self-driving car meandered through the quiet Atlanta streets, taking this turn and that back to their home.

“I guess we could have got more testing,” said Marin, staring at her phone.

“I’m willing to trust Doctor Crickson,” said Bellona. “If he says there’s no real point to getting more tests done, I am willing to believe that.”

Marin was texting.

>Done at the doctor. No health problems they could detect. They couldn’t explain my hair.

Saera typed.

>That is the same as what Dr. Crickson said to me. No identifiable explanation for the change in my hair color. And it was the same for Ardo?

Now it was Ardo’s turn.

>Nope. Couldn’t figure out a fucking thing.

And Terry, the last of all:

>I bet if I went it would be the same. So none of this is some weird health problem.

Marin texted next:

>Doctor Crickson told me that it almost seemed like the change in my hair color was natural. Like it was something that came out of my body itself.

>Weird.

That was Ardo.

>So I guess it’s destiny.

That was Terry.

“We’re here!” said Bellona, as the car pulled safely into their garage, and the garage door automatically shut behind it.

Marin sat there, for a moment, her knuckled, balled fists in her lap. Her phone sat in her lap. Her hair pooled around her ears, down her front, onto her chest and onto her middle. The blue streak was almost burning her, that’s how conscious she was of it.

“Destiny.”

“Darling, are you all right?” asked Bellona.

“F-Fine, fine mom,” said Marin, fidgeting away from Bellona’s voice as though it had struck her. She trembled, she shook, though Bellona did not notice, or did not appear to. And, running across her mind, there was an idea.

The doors had been opened a bit. Bellona looked at Marin, as she refused to exit the car. “Sweetie, is everything fine?”

“Yes.” The idea burned in her head. “Yes!” She vaulted from the car. “Yeah, Mom, sorry for worrying you.”

Bellona smiled kindly at her daughter. “Don’t pay any mind to your worries. Don’t worry about your hair, sweetie!” Bellona came close, and hugged Marin tightly. “Whatever happens, we’ll deal with it.” And Bellona smirked down at her. “Besides, having blue hair might be kind of cool, right?”

“Yeah,” said Marin, glancing to the side. The idea pulsed up in her mind again. “Yeah.”

They entered the house, and Marin was at least considerate enough not to run inside. So she walked, carefully, through the house, through the halls, towards her room. And she entered it, with its pretty pink walls and all its colorful decorations, all the things she had accumulated over the years. She had shelves, and they were piled with books and trinkets and doodads and all manner of things that she had been given, as presents, because Bellona was an indulgent mother and loved to gift her daughter things. It’s not like they didn’t have the money.

But Marin walked past all of those. She went to the bathroom, and to the sink. She shoved the knob and turned the water on.

There was a clear jet of water squirting from the sink,

Splashing down into the basin of the bathroom there.

Marin stood before it, and she stretched out her left hand,

Reached out for the stream of water falling to the drain.

“Come on,” Marin said, and reached, and reached out with her mind,

Reached out with her muscle and the depths of her own skull.

“Come on,” she said, reaching, dipping fingers in the wet,

“I know that you’re here. I know you’re here. Please hear me now.”

So the water ran and ran and so Marin stood there,

So she thought, and so she felt, and so she wondered why.

But she sighed then, and she loosened up what had been tense.

And inside her something rose, a thing that she could feel,

Something lovely, something natural, flickered in her heart.

And now Marin REACHED and FELT and all at once now she

Felt what was outside herself—could feel that it was there.

And the stream of water from the faucet suddn’ly BENT.

The clear water bent and turned and moved to touch her palm.

Marin laughed, and laughed for joy, and her eyes flickered blue,

Her eyes glimmered neon blue, and even as she laughed

One big streak of her black hair became a navy blue:

Down her hair ran navy color, like rain down a glass.

But Marin did not notice this; instead, Marin laughed.

Marin laughed! And as she did the water glimmered up,

And she twisted up her wrist and made the water move,

And the water wrapped around her wrist much like a snake,

And she flicked her wrist, and as she did, the water spat

Back into the basin of the sink—at her command!

Marin laughed for joy. “I knew it!” she exclaimed out loud.

Tears of joy ran down her face, and suddenly she felt

Like there was a secret that had hidden from her been,

Hidden from her all her life, but now she knew it was

There for her—had always been there, waiting just for her.

And now it was HERS. It was not hidden any more.

She played with the water, made the faucet’s stream do tricks.

Made it fork in two or three, or turned it upside-down

So that it went straight upright a little, and then fell.

And SHE did all this—she did it, this was all her will.

This was hers, the water was: it all, it all was hers!

Marin felt a thrill of fear and wonder and snapped the knob of the faucet shut. She was panting for breath. Tears ran down her face. “I did it,” she said. She laughed out loud. “I was right. I was right!” She joyfully spun in a circle. “I know I’m right about the others, too!” And she laughed!

Then she turned towards where the toilet sat against the wall,

And she swung her right arm upwards in a mighty arc,

And there came from out the toilet a great burst of wet:

From the toilet bowl an eruption of water came.

All that water splashed and splattered on the tile floor,

And Marin felt chills and tremors running through her limbs.

“I can do it. I can do it!” cried Marin, who then ran back into her bedroom. She knew what she sought: a book on the upper shelves built into her leftmost wall. It was easy to get; she’d read it so many times that she was very practiced in climbing up the shelves to reach it with her topmost hand. Even now, after all she’d grown as a teenager, she needed to climb up to get it, just a bit. But she climbed up now, and grabbed it, and brought it down.