They were barely home two minutes when Mara cornered her friend.
“What on earth did you do to the cordless phone?” Battery grinned as she led Mara back upstairs to her attic room.
“I thought you looked pretty freaked out by that.”
“I had no idea that you had special powers.” Battery laughed her honest, tinkly laugh. The girls sat comfortably on the plush, green bed.
Flattered, she replied, “It's not a special power, really. You see, here sometimes a mother will know if her baby has a special skill because the baby will tell her in dreams. It's quite common, really. That is why so many people are named after things. I'm Battery, my mother is Blaze, and um …” she paused for emphasis, “your boyfriend's name is not really Dru but Ignition.” She playfully tapped Mara on the knee.
Mara blushed a hot burn. Battery continued more gently.
“It's okay, you know. I dislike him, but that is because of some things in the past. I know he is very handsome and kept giving you such steamy looks. It's okay to have a crush on him. You are only going to be here until Sunday.”
Mara, desperately wanting to appear mature, reverted to the more pressing subject.
“Okay, whatever. We still have to find a way to get me home on Sunday. But first, how do you know how to use your skill?”
Battery explained that babies either showed their skill to their mothers in dreams or merely told them what name they wanted. The skill developed on its own. Sometimes it would present in an infant and other times not until considerably later.
“Do the skills ever occur without the baby forewarning the mum?” asked Mara.
“No, never,” replied Battery, decisively. “Any talent that emerges independent of a forewarning in the womb is considered just that, a talent. It's not the same sort of gift. There is huge snobbery about this. My older brother, the one who died, was an exceptional reader. He could read words forwards, backwards, and speed read. He could make sense of an entire book if the words were written backwards. It was an amazing talent,” declared Battery proudly, “but he didn't tell our mother about this in the womb.” Mara heard some anger in Battery's voice. “My parents tried to change his name to reflect this, but were stopped at every attempt. He remained Tod Yestin until the day he died. How boring. How sad. But his nickname was Literati.”
“What about pregnant women? I mean, do they ever lie and say their babies have spoken to them when they haven't?”
“Oh sure, but it's the kids who suffer. Can you imagine if your mum claimed you were going to be great at something, like swimming, and then you nearly drown? It's totally humiliating for everyone. It's best not to lie. Besides, as I already mentioned, it is very hard to change your name. And the types of gifts that babies are born with are peculiar. They are not typically anything to do with intelligence or athleticism. Take me for example: I can help if you need an electric charge. Don't you think that is weird?”
Mara looked at her new friend and candidly replied, “No, I think it's amazing. It's magic.” Battery saw the genuine admiration in Mara's eyes. While she could not help but feel resentful whenever she discussed the poor treatment of Tod, Mara's innocence lifted her mood slightly.
“My mum has really honed her skill. She can control a flame or do just about anything with fire.”
“What about Dru?” asked Mara, knowing the answer was obvious.
“He can start engines. He started yours; didn't he?” added Battery cheekily. Mara smiled, feeling a little more comfortable with the teasing.
“Okay, one more thing about Dru, and then we can change the subject. Why did the professor give him such a meaningful look at the end of class? Ms. Noritova looked positively disgusted by it. In fact, Dr. Akub treated Dru differently than everyone else in class except for maybe you.”
Battery settled back into her pillows and collected her thoughts.
“You are so observant. Well, you know why he treats me differently. I even called him uncle in class.”
“Yeah, I noticed that,” smiled Mara.
“Well, the connection with Dru is another story. Dr. Akub used to teach literature. Then he had his excursion to your side and went a little weird. The university attempted to get rid of him because he was no longer interested in poets and playwrights but in exploring the possibility of another reality. The dean pushed him to lecture in science fiction to which my uncle took offence.
“Then, out of the blue, Dru's uncle, who is the director of learning for the provincial government, offered Akub a small research and teaching grant. The university could not force him out if he had government backing, or else they would look very bad. So he stayed. It's a tenuous situation, and lots of people think Akub has gone mad.
“Publicly, Dru's uncle, Grigoras Vihesi, has come out and said that ‘it is a matter worth exploring and that all geniuses are at some point considered mad. We need to expand our horizons and support multiplicity of thought’ and other rubbish like that. The truth is that no one knows why Vihesi suddenly saved Akub from academic oblivion. Personally, I think it is strange that Vihesi didn't just give him a research grant. He specifically insisted upon a teaching component. That means that he wanted more people involved. That means he must believe in this. It is all very odd.
“Anyway, back to the significant look he gave Dru. Even though we have to keep everything secret, I am sure that he wants Dru to impress upon his uncle that we are having success and making progress. That way, we will continue to be funded.”