Early Spring, 1938 – Waynesburg, PA
Two men stood on the crest of a hill facing each other in a heated debate.
“Teater, don’t do it,” said Jediah. “You don’t know what might happen.”
“I’m afraid you can’t stop me, boy,” said Teater. “Listen, I’m as certain of this as I am about the Prophecy. I know in the very essence of my being that I am supposed to do this.”
Teater rubbed the back of his neck in exasperation. Jediah made some valid points, and it would seem that his best retort, as feeble as it was, fell on deaf ears.
He placed his hand on Jediah’s shoulder, and forced his gaze to his. “My whole life has been what I needed to do for others. This I have to do for me. Can’t you understand how important this is to me?”
Teater shoved his hands in his pants pockets to stop from waving them around. It would do no good for Nancy Jane, who stood at the bottom of the hill, to see them arguing.
Jediah dropped his shoulders. “I just want you to fully consider the ramifications. We are Sensates; we have powers we must use cautiously; we live our lives quietly without drawing attention to our group; we live by a strong moral code and if no one kills us, we live for a very long time.”
Teater turned away from him. “Don’t you think I know that? I’ve given my share. I’ve devoted my life to others since I was a young lad.”
Jediah grabbed his arm and forced Teater to face him. “What I’m saying is: we are not gods,” he said. “We are merely humans with special gifts. We’re not meant to go traipsing among the stars, and if we were, we would do so with much more forethought and consideration to the consequences of our actions.”
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