The Permutation

Breakthrough (Part 9) Paul

The sight of the only human being that loved him laden with a tray full of the only thing he loved filled Paul with a warmth as uncomfortable for him as acid reflux.

Love. Yuck.

The image of Cade Jahns hanging from a lamppost like a trophy fish flashed through his mind. He averted his eyes from Joyce's approach; he couldn't meet her eyes. She paid his inattention no heed and placed the tray on his ample belly with a kiss on the cheek.

"I love my sweet boy," she said.

Paul sat in silence. The thought of Cade Jahns had settled in his stomach like he'd swallowed a jagged rock.

Joyce stood by his bedside, her silent adoration giving him strength while asking for nothing in return. Normally, his mother loved to watch him eat, her cooking being one of the few traits that gave her any sense of value. Paul eating with gusto made Joyce swell with pride, but today she sensed Paul needed solitude. She drifted out of the room like a wraith.

"I love you too," Paul said softly as her form disappeared down the hallway.

After she left the room, Paul tried to dig into his breakfast with enthusiasm, but he'd found its taste less vibrant. Each bite didn't linger on his tongue bursting with flavor. The globs of food slid down his throat, devoid of passion. He descended into a mechanical rhythm until his entire plate was depleted.

Of everything that had happened in the last month, Paul found this the most troubling.

It's those smug otherworldly bastards in their hackneyed suits.

Paul had expected fanfare or congratulations at the higher form he'd become, but nothing had changed. The Beings were a simulacrum of the bullies and so called beautiful people that had made him feel so impotent his whole life. They'd looked at him like an experiment gone wrong that needed to be eliminated.

They'll have to pay too, and they'll recognize that I'm not a mistake. That I'm worthy of the gift that has been bestowed on me. Then I'll feel better.

Satisfied with his brilliant course of action, Paul decided he would pay a virtual visit to his buddy Diego Sandoval. The man had been a hard nut to crack, but that's what made it all the more satisfying. While Paul applauded his adversary's decision to eradicate all social media from his life, it had turned out of be a minor albeit entertaining speed bump that stood in the way of Paul's wrath.

Before he dropped off the social media grid, Diego took on his father's jack of all trades mantle, being Mr. Fix-It for every Tom, Dick, and Harry in town. In the high school days, when he wasn't terrorizing Paul, Diego was failing all his classes except shop. The man toed the line between an idiot savant and just an idiot when it came to the inner workings of machinery compared to the rest of his schooling.

Despite being a poor student and meaner than a pit of rattlesnakes, The town of Lancet Falls had grown to love the spick and the whistle of his chipped front tooth when he laughed, a whistle that still plagued Paul whenever he caught a whiff of pine needles.

As was customary of all good-looking high school mouth breathers, Diego played varsity sports. Despite his diminutive stature, the guy had carved a name for himself with his cockroach like agility and resilience on the basketball court. When the opportunity presented himself, Diego applied to coach the new crop of jockletes when the high school was in dire need of a new head coach. In Diego's five years of coaching the Lancers, he forged them into a two time state championship winning team. High school sports is the common metric for small towns to measure their worth, so in the eyes of the folks of Lancet Falls, Diego Sandoval became a pillar of the community, bordering on a legend.