The pharmacy delivery went smoothly until the cart reached the temporary barrier.
A concrete block had been moved across half the pavement after Eli’s morning check, leaving enough room for a person but not for the cart and its projecting handle. Kellan stopped before the front wheel touched it. Eli held the rear of the load while Sera walked ahead to check the route through the public square.
“Clear,” she called. “There’s a ramp on the far side.”
They turned the cart carefully. The handle still pulled slightly left despite Kellan’s adjustment. Eli corrected it before the wheel struck the curb, and Kellan kept the heavier box from sliding. Neither used an ability. When they reached the clinic, Leah checked the delivery and signed the receipt.
“No broken bottles,” she said. “That’s a good start.”
Kellan looked at Eli. “Any trouble on the way?”
“No.”
“I’ll take Theo to his appointment, then come back for the test.” He returned that afternoon after the appointment, with enough time to work before the yard closed.
They chose the same yard as before, but changed the arrangement. A mechanical support would hold the crate whenever Eli stopped responding. Kellan would not move it until a backup handler confirmed Eli was clear. Sera offered to take that role for the first exercise.
Tessa brought a timer and a sheet of paper. “I’m not reading your private ledger,” she told Eli. “I’ll write what I observe here. You can decide what to copy.”
He had already divided a page in his notebook into columns: time, active talent, physical symptoms, and impressions whose source he could not establish. The earlier fragment associated with Darius had its own entry, described only as an unfamiliar room and an intrusive feeling. The recent episode had a separate entry for the argument that had affected his response to Tessa. Neither contained the family’s private words.
Kellan placed a light weight inside the crate and secured it so it could not shift unexpectedly. He positioned a low support beneath it. Sera stood at the marked boundary with a pole she could use to guide the crate without putting her hands under it.
“First we lift it a few inches,” Kellan said. “Eli anchors. I apply a sideways force. When he releases, Sera confirms the support is carrying the load before I move anything.”
“And if I don’t answer?” Eli asked.
“I stop. Sera takes the backup. Tessa checks on you.”
The first attempt lasted four counts. Eli felt the pressure of the anchor grow uneven and warned them before he released it. The crate settled against the support. Sera checked the position and called that the load was stable. Kellan lowered the lifting frame.
“No fragment,” Eli said.
Tessa recorded the release time. They waited several minutes before resetting. Eli drank water and described the physical sensation: a tightening behind his ribs, a brief ache near his temples, and no confusion. Sera wrote the direction Kellan had pushed and the crate’s position.
On the second attempt, Kellan changed the force gradually. Eli held the anchor for three counts, then said it was slipping. The crate settled. He felt clear, and the yard remained exactly where it should be.
“Can I move it?” Kellan asked.
“Yes,” Eli said.
Kellan moved before Sera gave the backup-handler confirmation they had agreed on. He lifted one end of the crate to shift it onto the cart. Sera watched the support. Eli stepped forward to help, then the yard vanished.
A kitchen flashed into view. The blue plate was on the table. A hand closed around the back of a chair. The old irritation rose so sharply that Eli turned toward a voice he could not fully hear.
“Stop,” he said.
The word came late. Kellan had already begun moving the load. He saw Eli step into the marked area and twisted to keep the crate away from him. The awkward motion pulled at his wrist. He lowered the crate onto the cart with a hard bump.
Sera caught the cart handle before it rolled. “Everyone hold.”
The image broke. Eli saw Kellan bent over the crate, one hand braced against the rim. Tessa stood at the boundary, the timer in her hand.
“Where are you?” she asked.
“In the yard.”
“What just happened?”
“I saw the room again. Kellan was moving the crate. I stepped forward.”
Kellan straightened slowly. “You said you were clear.”
“I thought I was.”
“That’s why we need the backup to control the load until we’ve checked again.” He rotated his wrist. “I didn’t hurt it, but I could have if the crate had been heavier.”
Sera set the cart brake. “I was watching the support, not Eli’s path. Kellan moved before I gave the confirmation we agreed on, and I didn’t stop him. The call and the role both need to be clearer.”
They clarified the arrangement. The backup handler would watch both the load and Eli’s position after release. The load was already supposed to remain on its support until the handler, not Eli alone, called it ready to move; this time they would wait for that call. Kellan demonstrated the sequence with the empty crate: anchor, warning, release, pause, check, then move.
Eli wrote late warning; Kellan set load down awkwardly in the ledger. He added the physical symptoms and left the private image undescribed. The entry looked small compared with the moment when Kellan had twisted to avoid him.
“Do you want to stop?” Tessa asked.
He wanted to say no. The ability had just become useful, and stopping after a near miss felt like giving it away. He looked at Kellan’s wrist and the cart wheel still pressed against Sera’s boot.
“We should rest first.”
“That’s not the same as deciding to continue,” Kellan said.
“No. It’s deciding not to continue now.”
They sat outside the marked area. Mrs. Ortega brought bread and cheese from upstairs. Sera asked Eli whether the second image had arrived at the same interval as the first.
“I don’t know exactly. I felt clear for longer this time, but we didn’t time the first episode closely.”
“We can time from release now,” she said. “Not to make a countdown. To see what happens.”
After the break they ran a lighter exercise without raising the crate. Eli anchored it on the ground while Kellan pressed with the pole. Sera watched Eli. Tessa started the timer when he released.
Ten seconds passed. Then twenty. Eli felt no image, only a dull ache behind his eyes. At forty seconds Sera asked him to describe where the cart stood. He answered correctly. At a minute, Kellan moved the crate after Sera confirmed Eli was clear.
Before the next attempt, Sera put two chalk marks on the ground, one for Eli and one for the backup handler. She asked Kellan to approach from the side rather than in front.
“Why?” he asked.
“Because earlier I watched the load and missed Eli stepping toward it. I want a position where I can see both without turning my back on either.”
Kellan moved to the side. From there he could reach the mechanical support but not the cart handle. He asked Eli to demonstrate the distance he needed to step away after release. Eli took two paces back. Sera tested whether she could reach the cart brake from her mark without crossing his path.
The first arrangement failed before they used any ability: the pole caught against the frame when Sera moved to the brake. She shifted the frame and tried again. This time she could see Eli, the crate, and Kellan’s hands.
“You’ve just spent ten minutes on where to stand,” Eli said.
“And we found a pole that would have trapped my arm,” Sera replied. “Do you want to find that while the crate is moving?”
“No.”
Kellan placed an empty bottle on the support as a marker. If the crate moved far enough to touch it, he would stop pressing. Eli anchored the crate and watched Kellan’s pole flex slightly. He announced the first sign of strain, then released before the crate reached the bottle. Sera confirmed that the support had taken the load. They waited for the observation period before anyone moved it.
During the wait, a dog barked outside the yard. Eli’s attention jumped toward the gate. The sound belonged to the street, not the kitchen in the fragment. He described it when Tessa asked what had changed. She marked it as an external distraction, not a symptom.
Kellan reset the bottle. On the next run, Sera deliberately called a pause before Eli felt any strain. He released the ability and stepped back. The crate settled safely.
“I thought I had another second,” he said.
“You might have. I saw the support move.”
They examined it together. A small stone beneath one foot had rolled. Kellan replaced it with a flat pad and checked the other feet. The interruption had nothing to do with Eli’s symptoms, but it showed why the backup handler needed authority to stop for a physical danger as well.
The next attempt produced a brief feeling almost immediately after release, without an image. Eli reported it. Tessa recorded the time and the fact that he remained oriented. A later attempt produced no noticeable effect during the observation period.
“There isn’t a reliable number here,” Sera said. “Not from this afternoon.”
Eli looked at the ledger. The inconsistent interval made the problem harder to plan around. A fixed warning—wait thirty seconds, then continue—would have been easier for everyone to follow. It would also have been a rule the experiment did not support.
Kellan dismantled the frame. “Use the backup every time until we know more. If the job doesn’t have a backup, don’t put a load over anyone.”
Eli helped stack the blocks once the area was clear. His hands were steady. That did not erase the moment he had stepped into Kellan’s path.
Tessa asked him to bring up the system interface before the next exercise. “It may tell you how many inherited abilities can be active. It won’t tell us what level of use is safe, but we should know what it claims.”
“I haven’t looked for a capacity display.”
“Then look when you’re rested.”
Sera checked the time and collected her map. She had a meeting with a survivor about the warehouse records. Before leaving, she pointed to the cart.
“Tomorrow’s delivery route is still clear, but the barrier crew may move the block. Check it again before you promise the driver.”
Eli smiled faintly. “I hear you.”
“Good. Make sure you hear the rest of us when there’s a crate in the air.”
After she left, Kellan showed Eli a simple way to lower the cart handle without putting pressure on the strained wrist. Eli tried it twice. The second time he moved too quickly and the empty crate slid. Kellan caught it with the pole.
“Even without the ability,” Kellan said, “you can still make work for me.”
“I’m versatile.”
That earned him a brief laugh. They put the equipment away. Kellan returned the pole to its rack and checked the cart brake once more, then replaced a loose pin before folding the frame against the wall. Eli carried the chalk and timer to the clinic, where Leah put them in a box labeled for training equipment. The label would keep the timer from being mistaken for a medical device or packed into the next delivery by accident. Tessa stayed long enough to check that Eli could describe the last exercise and the present date without confusing it with the fragment. He could.
Before he left, Eli and Tessa compared their separate notes. Her timer showed that the image followed release by several seconds; his estimate was longer. They kept both entries, labeling one as a timed observation and the other as his recollection.
“Do you need the name of the person in the memory?” she asked.
“No. I need to know that it can change what I think is happening.”
“Then that’s what we tell a backup handler.”
He folded her observation sheet and placed it beside the equipment list. It could be shared with someone taking that role without exposing the fragment. The private ledger stayed in his pocket.
At home, he opened the ledger and added a column for the person responsible for the backup. The first two entries named Sera. He left the next row blank rather than assuming she would always be available, and wrote a reminder to discuss the assignment before the next attempt. A team could share a task; it could not turn one person’s presence into a permanent piece of equipment.