Tekepathic Love

April 11, 2008

I’m lame.

My triple-F writing frequency has fallen off a bit.  But I think I’ll be able to get it back up to speed for awhile now.

I like the way this one turned out, it might be a scene in one of the longer works I’m noodling on right now but it works pretty good on its own. 

It is hard to write about a new sense.  And I think I coined a term: techepathy or tekepathy.  Coming to a store near you over the next 10-15 years.

MJ floated in front of the main observation window. Her father stared back, trapped

The station was coming apart.

“Get clear MJ…there’s nothing more you can do.” Her father’s voice sounded farther away than the mere feet between, scratchy and broken over her helmet radio.

“Shut up, I’ve got to get you out.” She answered, ignoring the truth.

“You can’t.”

She knew he was right, but reached out with her gloved hand anyway and felt the thick glass of the observation window. “No!” Her anger seeped out in a red flare of flower and smoke, briefly stunning her father with its intensity. She always had trouble keeping her filters tight on her headgear when emotion overtook her.

“MJ, you’ve done all you can, you’ve saved so many…you need to get away and get ready. You know this isn’t the end, it’s only the beginning.”

She couldn’t even bang her hand on the glass in the weightlessness of space, even venting frustration was denied her.


“Mallory, face the truth. Go, they need you.”

“no” this time it was only a whisper from the girl.

“I…” Her father faltered. “…can you…can you take something to your mom?”

Her fingers grazed the glass again, she could feel the destructive vibrations through the precise sensors on the tips.

“I want to make sure she knows how I’ve felt about her all these long years apart.”

“Yes” MJ answered even quieter now.

He knelt down on one knee, put a hand on the window to balance himself and then looked up at MJ.

She didn’t expect what he did next. Nobody ever opened up their headgear on purpose. Everyone learned from the time of insertion to keep it locked down. Even lovers rarely opened themselves.

But her father stripped the layers of locks and protection away and she saw everything. She saw the fear of death as a black raven with wings outspread hovering behind him. She saw the determination he had to endure the fear, the courage as a flame burning and lighting the shadows of the deathbird, keeping the darkness at bay.

This was how her headgear was seeing it. The signals sent from her father were bits and bytes, but her gear interpreted it as MJ would see it, as MJ thought. Each person might experience it differently; it was a sixth sense, a created tech sense. Tekepathy.

Closer in, in a tighter halo she saw and felt and knew the love and pride in her he held.

And there seared in around him, in a shell of enamel, she could see the love for her mom. She had not expected to see the fierceness with which he still loved her.

The unfiltered headgear of emotions swirled and became merely a black and white whirlpool. He severed the feelings of fear from the others until a form of the yin-yang hung above him, simplified love and fear, distilled. He carved the love apart and packaged it into a ball of crackling light. A ball of pure emotion. A ball of painful love.

Flint raised a hand in a physical representation of the extreme effort involved in sending part of your mind away, part of your emotions. He pushed his hand towards her in a tendon-tight shaking thrust and the ball of glowing white seemed to “float” towards her.

She’d never received something like this, it was rare to be offered a raw unfiltered packet. It was hard to meld and painful.

“take it.” He whispered, rasping, “please take it and give it to Sophie.”

She knew then that he had carved the pieces of love from himself and remained corrupted in only fear. The effects would wear off as the mind recovered but for the short term it would be hell to be bereft of love. He put a hand on the floor.

“TAKE IT!” he shouted, “Please.”

She let the glowing sphere approach.

It touched her mindwall, she gave it access and screamed as the other of her father came in.

Blackness followed and she remembered no more.


The war was long. It was years before she was back on Earth, the enemy vanquished.

Eventually one summer she finally gave her father’s glowing love to her mother. She had resisted giving it for a long time, unsure if it would hurt or heal or if she would feel anything at all.

They cried for a long time. He had been one of many to have died, now at least a part of him would live on.



  1. Greg – this is good. Be interested to see it in a longer form.

  2. Nice piece, and I like the idea of transmitting emotion via mind-to-mind data transfer. I think you should definitely expand on the concept and setting!

  3. Thanks,

    I’m working on how to write around telepathy (or techepathy as it were). It’s another layer and “sense” to describe and I certainly don’t want to over describe situations.

    There is a balance to describing it within the context of the scene and over-describing and bogging down the flow. It inherently muddies the water.

  4. beautiful. just beautiful. Yes, write more.

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