“Everyone,
remain calm.”
Gordon
Ramsey*
Today I'm
posting my story early(though email subscribers may get it at the same
time as it's kinda just delivered I think at midnight) as we're
heading to dinner for my Uncle's birthday and I wanted to make sure I
had the story done.
Psychic
Cowboys
The
anticipation and fear of the minds of the small town synergized well,
increasing the psychic energy in the area. The energy would be put to
good use in the duel between the cowboys at the duel at the coming
sundown. None of the cowboys actually herded cattle but considering
they all lived that life style on a little dusty planet out there in
the Fifth New Solar System it really stood to be the best word for
them. They even wore those cowboy hats just as those people running
in the old west did. The hats gave them a good bit of shade on their
shoulders and did a good job of covering the part of their head that
opened up to reveal a thought transceiver. The thought transceivers
were free, mandatory handouts across all the solar systems by the
government. But the government didn't spend funds to give them large
infrastructure or food since those were as necessary to make
inter-solarsystem law for the richer planets.
The first
participant in the duel was a tall, large man. His massive silhouette
matched a superhero's. His skin held a bit of a almond hue and his
eyes were a deep black. He had a charisma and the sort of walk and
smile that made you like him before he even started talking. Being
the psychic sheriff though he needed that for his job. People had to
like him. How else would people trust him with thought management?
He couldn't
just simply change the thoughts like flipping a switch. So to keep
everyone working hard to make the town be its best and being happy
the best he moved the flow of them and altered them in other ways. He
suggested thoughts, pulled out memories for people and transferred
moods. He used every psychic trick in the book. People thought he had
some sort of magic gift, though really it was the military training.
They were grateful for his skill, he reduced many thoughts they
didn't like very well like anger and sadness.
Until the
second participant of the duel arrived. The bad seed. Bad seeds like
this person needed to be psychically stamped out so the town worked
its best in this little town just like the big cities. They sheriff
welcomed stranger on the instance of the townspeople. But he knew
strangers always caused waves in the thought stream. He hoped the
stranger would come along easily but he didn't so a duel had to be
arranged.
On looks alone
the stranger wouldn't look like a problem. Plain black hair and plain
brown eyes he was the kind of man who melded into crowds just by
walking through them. His skin had a boring white to it. His shape
average as well. By looks he looked the most conformist man of all.
The Psychic Sheriff's instinct was the only hint to the fact he
wouldn't go with the flow with the rest of the towns thoughts. That
and all the drawing paper the man brought with him.
The man was an
artist. And he drew down so many different things and not always
pretty fields either. Not monsters in the moonlight but sometimes
darker scenes. Either way things not peaceful that gave fodder into
the general shared thoughts of the town that threw everyone off. It
damaged the towns ability to work. The Psychic Sheriff couldn't have
that. He made everyone happy, hard workers fine on his own. The
artist had thrown it off.
“Mr. Gerome,”
The Psychic Sheriff said as sundown came and he saw the artist. “I
am surprised you're here. I thought you would have run.”
Gerome laughed.
“I'd like to protect the honor of my thoughts.”
The Psychic
Sheriff's face grew angry, something that hardly happened. “You're
laughing at me? Don't think I'll let the safety of your mind get in
the way of protecting the thoughts of my town.” In the now psychic
society of the solar system the government had to pass some law to
determine what thoughts would be dominate. Duels became the norm.
When a debate came over thoughts the people fought for what thoughts
should be dominate psychically. The government figured psychic
battles were better than battles with guns.
“Let's go
Sheriff. The thoughts of drones you've been putting into these poor
people won't be able to stand up to me.”
“How
arrogant.” The Sheriff pulled the thoughts of all the town people
at the artist. Their loyalty to them made them natural cluster their
minds to him. Also they had all become spectators to the duel. Their
lives had become dull in the town. This duel had been the most
interesting event for the past several years as they worked along
under the Sheriff.
The artist
managed to resist the massive flow of thoughts of all the towns
people by pulling up all his art and the memories to go with it.
Protecting his individuality. The Sheriff grew frustrated as the
artist wouldn't crumble.
“You won't
get me. You're town won't get me. I came here looking for a new life,
maybe I'll be giving them a new one.”
The Sheriff
grew infuriated. He hadn't met resistance in a very long time. “I'll
have you yet. I'll show you how I got this town.” He pulled the
towns thoughts along while using every psychic technique he knew to
attack the artist. He swapped his memories around. He pulled around
thoughts. He injected memories. Thoughts in the artist started
changing just because he was shuffling so many of his own around that
the artist's mind just being nearby his and the townspeople cracked
under pressure.
Gerome
collapsed with a smile as he looked around the town. “You've lost.”
The Sheriff
looked at the artist confused. “What do you mean? You're mind is
crushed, I'll have your thoughts soon enough and you'll be a part of
this town.”
Gerome replied,
“In this duel you introduced the town to a lot of new thoughts
today when you used theirs in the duel. You used a lot of yours.
You're very greedy, keeping so much of your own individuality to run
the town. I'm looking around and I'm seeing that they look like
they're thinking now. Good job.”
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