Mindtouch (The Dreamhealers, #1)

by M.C.A. Hogarth

It still struck him as miraculous, how everything always worked when used, and how none of the Alliance’s citizens expected it could be otherwise.

“That’s one of the things I like about psychology, actually. It’s not this or that. It’s… a loop. Everything affects everything else. You can point at something and call it a cause, but it’s really a matter of perspective. Change where you’re standing and it looks like an effect.” “And yet you must begin somewhere, if you wish to affect change,” Jahir said. Vasiht’h grinned. “Affecting change is for third year students. First year students have to settle for observing effects.”

“Did not have energy to cook, so I have hunted for you instead. At the wild, wild restaurant.”

“I think I have given myself a headache attempting to contemplate the logistics of a multi-world holiday system.” “You and everybody else,” Brett said with a guffaw.

“Some clothing needs to be sewn closed,” and that struck him as so bizarre that he didn’t ask. It wasn’t until much later that he looked it up on the u-banks and found out that yes, there were outfits that were fastened onto people by sewing a few stitches here and there in lieu of something more reasonable, like stick-strips or zippers or even buttons.

“And if you, Healer KindlesFlame, had a touch so sensitive that trailing it over fabric gave you friction burns, would you go about touching everything?” Jahir asked, looking up at him. “No,” KindlesFlame said. “But I also wouldn’t throw myself into a profession that required sewing.” He lifted a brow. “You’re going into a field of the mind, with an ability to touch minds that very few people share. Doesn’t that suggest something to you? A lost opportunity, perhaps?” Jahir grimaced. “If it was so simple…” “If it was so simple, the rewards probably wouldn’t be worth the effort,” KindlesFlame said, and sipped from his cup.

“I don’t know why we have to learn them, when it’s all in the u-banks,” someone said. “Because if someone’s dying in front of you, your first instinct won’t be to consult a computer,” Jander said. “Sometimes seconds matter. When you have the leisure to double-check your memory, you should. But when it counts, you should know.

“Love is not enough, without commitment.”

You’re risking yourself to know us. Isn’t that love?”

“Life goes on,” Nieve’s grandmother observed as she joined him. When he glanced at her, she said, “Remember that, old alien, when you feel too much pain.”

like everything, you can choose to use those things to grow twisted or straight.” “And if there is no path to the sun but a twisted one?” Jahir asked. “Then still, you grow toward the light,”

That was a form of listening, he thought. To really look at something, to try to understand it. It’s what would make the Eldritch good at practice. Who wouldn’t be flattered by such dedicated attention?

“Eat the cookie. It’s got jam in the middle.” “Jam in the middle!” Jahir said. “I will apply myself directly.”

“Death by cramming,” Brett said, lifting his own glass. “Self-willed academic suicides. The college is littered with them.” “For a college littered with them there aren’t that many bodies lying around,” Vasiht’h observed. “They’re all underground,” Brett proclaimed. “Why do you think the grass is so green?”

I can feel it… like you’re not two people, but a pair, with your backs to each other, facing out.” She lifted her head. “Do you have that metaphor, or is it a Harat-Shar thing? It’s part of the angel religion, the idea that on life’s battlefield your partner is the person you trust enough to guard your back.” “The metaphor is self-explanatory,” Jahir said, and it was, and it struck him powerfully. “Well, that’s what I want,” Luci said. And added, “Except with sex. Personal preference there.” Vasiht’h laughed shakily. “Yes. At least you’ve got enough Harat-Shar in you for that.”

“Our choices shape our lives, and until we die we can make new ones.”

one step, then another. Eventually, one reaches the destination.” “And if it’s the wrong destination…” “Then we re-orient and try a new path,”

we make truth out of the things we believe to be true. So it is well for us to listen only to good things.”

let’s get some dinner in you before that cup goes to your head.” “I am not an unpleasant drunk,” Jahir protested. “No, because you’re an unconscious one,” his roommate answered, wry. “So if I don’t feed you now, you won’t eat until breakfast. Come wash vegetables. You can do that without cutting off a finger.” “I am not that tipsy,” Jahir said firmly. “Mmm-hmm.” “I am not, I assure you—” “Just wash the vegetables.”

I’ll miss them, but losing them to the hope of a cure is much better than losing them because they get worse.” “It is still,” Jahir observed, “a loss.” Her glance then was thoughtful. She smiled. “You have to make the whys matter. Otherwise, you suffer too much.”

“Vasiht’h….” “No, Sehvi,” he said. “I can’t see it ending well. So why get invested?” “Because you already are?” she said, soft. “I’m—” “Love, you’re crying.” He touched his cheeks, found the fur damp. So this was what it was like, to cry for something other than physical pain. And he’d wondered that he was capable? He rubbed his fingers together, curled them into fists. “I can’t spare myself,” he said, when he was sure he could talk. “The least I can do is spare him.”