Chapter 4

The footage is of low quality.

Recorded by someone on their phone, the dim lighting sabotages whatever resolution the phone might boast. The view is shaking as their hands struggle to hold the phone steady.

Four men are standing in the middle of the road, arguing loudly. Three of them surround the fourth, and each one outweighs him by at least fifty pounds and looks to have several years on him as well.

The fourth man, although calling him that is a stretch, as he looks barely more than a boy, is stubbornly standing his ground, chin jutting forwards and angry words spilling from his mouth.

The three larger men are shouting back, and they start to take turns shoving him backwards and forth.

The whole scene is illuminated by a streetlight some twenty feet away, throwing a dull amber light behind them and rendering them as little more than silhouettes, brief glimpses of colour occasionally shown.

The smaller man is trying to ignore the two men flanking him, concentrating on the middle aggressor and refusing to back down.

Whatever it is they are arguing about is lost, their voices reaching the phone recording the incident as little more than belligerent static.

Finally, the larger of the men arguing loses his temper completely, and suddenly pulling back his arm he throws a punch. It catches the smaller man square in the face, and he stumbles backwards and falls to the ground. The three men begin laughing, and they spread out slightly, the two that were previously flanking now standing behind the smaller man as he struggles to his feet, only to be struck once more.

His tormentors jeering at him, the man on the ground swears furiously and gesticulates something vaguely obscene. He is silenced by a foot connecting sharply with his ribs, and he curls around the injured spot, the breath driven out of his lungs.

His opponent slowly walks backwards, gesturing for him to rise and continue the fight. After a moments effort, he does so, spitting at the man who kicked him. The larger man walks back towards him to deliver another punch, but as his fist begins moving the smaller man vanishes.

Caught off balance, the larger man staggers as his fist connects with nothing but empty air, staring down in befuddlement at the pile of clothes that have fallen to the tarmac. The two men with him have likewise fallen silent.

In the background of the video, a slight figure emerges from behind a car, naked and hunched over. Briefly caught in the illumination of the streetlight, the smaller man throws one last look at the other three before turning his eyes upwards to the top of the building behind him.

After a second's pause, he vanishes once more.

The footage ends.

The video garnered almost nine thousand views the day it was released. Within a week that number has risen to almost seven hundred thousand. By the end of the month it had been viewed over thirty million times.

A number of comments accuse it of being fake. Others criticise the low quality of the footage, and say it can't be accepted on face value. As the day and weeks pass, this number grows smaller, and finally vanishes, swamped beneath the growing, and increasingly excited speculation.

.

The two television presenters are uneasy.

Their attire is sharp and their make-up flawless, but their uncertainty permeates everything they say, a silent shadow underlying every movement they make.

The early stories they deliver are hesitant and openly treated like a mere obligation. Stories of celebrity feuds and controversial tweets are hurried through, the presenters stripped of their façade of caring.

When the final story of the news episode arrives, everybody can sense that this is what they have been building to. The presenters straighten themselves up and quietly clear their throats. Brief expressions of panic flitter across their faces before being strangled and mercilessly buried under the calm, cool mask of professionalism.

"We have further updates and the series of inexplicable events that have been reported in almost every country across the globe."

The presenter pauses, their mouth working ever so slightly, as if they are struggling to get the words out.

"In the majority of cases so far, individuals have been spotted at the scenes of the disturbances, apparently cheering them on or being otherwise involved. Such cases involve floating objects, with the person involved floating themselves and sometimes being filmed running up walls, or seemingly controlling the movement of objects from a significant distance away."

There is a pause as the two presenters share a glance, and then the second presenter takes over from the first.

"The most significant of these events occurred in Munich just yesterday morning. Video footage shows traffic suddenly rolling to one side while a young woman is seen walking down the middle of the road. She was heard shouting abuse at the traffic, and when confronted by civilians apparently caused them to fall over and slide backwards in the same manner as the vehicles.

"Initial figures put the number of casualties at two dead and a further twenty three injured, some seriously. The woman in question is being pursued by police and he current whereabouts are unknown."

"Many people were sceptical of these events and the videos recording them," the first presenter resumes, after a short pause, "suspecting them of being a marketing ploy for the latest Marvel product. However, Marvel recently released a statement saying that they had no involvement in these situations and are as confused as everybody else.

"The first analyses of the various incidents have been released, and show interesting findings. Areas with greater population density have seen markedly higher numbers of these disturbances, supporting the initial idea that people are involved in these events, if not directly causing them.

"The events themselves fall into several distinct groupings, although those responsible for the analyses have confirmed variations within these groupings and state that they may change with further data.

"As it is, most disturbances involve moving objects or people causing destruction and injury, while others involve men or women vanishing into thin air, sometimes leaving their clothing behind. A number of people have been identified based on the clothing that remained at the scene. Some have since been taken into custody, while other fled from police and are still at large and are wanted for questioning.

"Less common reports include strange lights or noises, and mysterious burns."

The reporter looks down at the papers in her hands, fingers moving jerkily as she plays with the sheets before looking back up at the camera.

"All that is known at this time is that of the almost four hundred incidents worldwide, over forty have resulted in deaths and almost three dozen people have been arrested or detained for questioning. More updates to follow as new information comes in."

.

The sky was stained a scarlet hue, flowing through orange to a bright amber glow as the sun reached the horizon. As the minutes crawled by the sun disappeared, inch by inch vanishing from sight, leaving the world washed in a deep, silent purple.

Naomi stirred herself from her reverie as the chill began to seep in. She put down her cup of coffee, long since grown cold, and shut the curtains. Outside, the palette would fade, and the stars would once more reclaim the sky, but for her, the less contact with the outside world, the better off she would be.

She could feel it as she walked the short distance across the room.

It was as if she were a drop of ink in a glass of water, every movement sending movement roiling through the air, coiling around her and slowly rebounding away.

Every movement in the air; every slightest speck of motion.

She could feel it all, and it was slowly driving her insane.

She sighed, and poured the cold liquid down the sink, groaning slightly as she felt every drop slide away, bouncing slightly off the surface of the sink and rushing in a gurgle down the drain. She couldn't bear the thought of reheating it. Of feeling the energy bounce around until the motionless drink seethed with movement. No matter how still the coffee looked, she knew how much it was really moving. That's why she couldn't eat hot food anymore. Not for a while, anyway.

She sat back down in her armchair, feeling the springs stretch and vibrate under the weight, and turned on the oil heater next to her. She could feel the oil moving around, of course, but it was slow and sedate, and she liked it that way. She'd bought it two days ago, forcing herself to admit that she needed a heater, but no longer able to turn on the fan heater she had used for months.

The movement. It was too much.

Why?

Why was this happening to her?

She hadn't done anything special with her life. She wasn't a prodigy in any way. She'd never been any kind of genius. She'd never had any kind of mental health problems. At least, not until now.

Whatever was happening to her, it was clearly not an isolated situation.

She'd seen enough footage, both professional and amateur, to know that even her particular situation was far from unique. It was all about movement.

"Damn it Naomi. You're going to get through this. It'll work out."

She didn't know if her voice would sound as unconvincing to anyone else as it did to her. She suspected that it probably would.

Alright. This was happening to her, for no reason that she could think of. It was also happening to a lot of other people as well, also for no reason that she could think of. Good people. Bad people. It didn't seem to make any difference, although the media seemed inordinately focused on the bad.

Naomi sighed.

There. She was looking at things calmly and logically.

As if there was a single thing about this whole messed up situation that was remotely logical.

Still. It was a start.

The others with her... situation... were causing chaos on the news. Or rather, they were causing chaos, and so were on the news. She was not causing chaos, and therefore was not on the news. The wider world did not know about her. How many others were there who were sitting quietly at home trying to deal with this?

What was happening to her, and the others like her? Naomi had absolutely no idea. What was happening to those that weren't like her? They were panicking and didn't like the situation.

Obviously, if they saw that people like her weren't evil they would calm down. Ergo, she should show people that she was fine and wasn't going on a destructive rampage.

Equally obviously, the government was actively looking for people like her to bring in for questioning. So far, nobody had heard what had happened to those people.

The only logical solution was to wear spandex, a mask and pick a silly name to use.

Naomi spluttered a laugh as that thought crossed her mind.

.

As the weekend passed those same thoughts chased each other through her mind again and again.

Eventually, as the seemingly endless cycle threatened to driver her insane, Naomi decided to leave the house.

For the first hour she wandered aimlessly, flinching every time a vehicle drove past, thundering through the air. She tried to avoid vehicles at first, but soon gave that up as impossible.

It was when the sudden storm of motion above her jerked her from her reverie that Naomi realised her wanderings had taken her to a specific place, her feet guiding her while her mind was distracted.

The overpass where the first incident had occurred looked exactly the same as it always had. She wasn't sure why she had expected it to look any different. The only thing that had happened was a crate falling off the side and rolling underneath. It wasn't like they were just going to leave the crate lying there for a week.

Still, the sight of the overpass calmed her. Perhaps it was precisely because the overpass looked exactly the same as it always did. Even if she changed, it seemed that other things had not.

She walked further along, the mild wind fluttering her hair around her face. Halfway to the next overpass she stopped and turned around.

Everything seemed normal.

Cars zoomed along. Lorries rumbled past. The occasional motorbike zipped in between them. Normal.

If she focused she could still feel the energy of them; the movement of each vehicle, a churning maelstrom of spinning parts all wrapped up in a large, momentous collection of metal and glass.

It was dizzying at first, but as she watched everything continue on its way, just like it always had, she relaxed.

The confusing movement because just another part of the world.

Then it all shifted sideways.

It had happened in the brief gap between volleys of cars, when the comparative stillness of the overpass had seemed to twist slightly, and suddenly the swirling eddies of air seemed to be flowing towards her.

In the second it took Naomi to register this, another car crossed the overpass and drove through the strange, distorted area that covered it.

At first it seemed as if it would continue straight through and out the other side, until the tyres started screaming and the vehicle slid almost sideways towards her.

"No," Naomi whispered, the horror rising inside her as the incident from last week repeated itself. "No, no, no NO!"

The far wheels were lifting up from the surface of the road, while those closer to her were scraping uselessly at the tarmac.

She got a brief glimpse of the drivers terrified, uncomprehending face before the car struck the barrier. Only this time it was rolling as it did so, and rather than smacking into the barrier side-on, it hit it with the corner of the roof, which crumpled inwards like a tin can, the windows shattering and spraying broken glass out like a shower of frozen sparks.

Naomi could feel the movement almost stop then, shuddering through the barrier and dissipating quickly, but enough remained to push the vehicle past the point of no return.

It teetered for one awful moment before continuing its roll, falling over the side and towards the pavement, the screaming driver trapped inside.

With the horrible sense of déjà-vu that filled her as she watched, Naomi could feel the growing momentum of the car as it plummeted downwards.

Reaching out her hand, as if she had some hope of stopping that was happening, Naomi took hold of the momentum and threw it elsewhere.

She wasn't trying to push the vehicle in another direction; she just wanted it to stop moving.

The moment seemed to stretch out before her, the car slowly dropping as its unstopped movement grew and grew, while the air around it roiled and heaved, surging away from it so rapidly the air seemed to crack.

Then Naomi realised that time was passing as normal, and the car really had slowed down. But then it dropped anew, and in desperation Naomi hurled away the movement once more.

The car seemed to almost halt, hanging sideways barely more than a foot above the ground, before finishing its fall with a thump and the scrape of crumpled, twisted metal.

Naomi was frozen as she stared at the car. Then, before panic could truly set in, she forced herself to move, and ran towards it.

She couldn't see the damage that had been done to the other side of the car by its collision with the barrier, but the side closest to her seemed remarkably, almost miraculously, undamaged.

Then again, these days the remarkable and the miraculous were practically becoming mundane.

The people inside the vehicle were shouting, though whether it was in relief or in panic Naomi didn't know. Most likely a bit of both.

She grabbed at the door handle. Her fingers scrabbled for a few seconds until she remembered it was upside down and she adjusted her grip. The door jerked slightly, shifting perhaps a centimetre before jamming, caught by the crumpled rim surrounding it.

The shouting had changed as those trapped inside caught sight of her, although Naomi could not hear a word they were saying, her mind churning and focused on the buckled doors.

She sighed slightly and rolled her eyes as she realised that there was no way she would be able to open the door by herself, and those inside the car would be in no condition to help her.

She stepped round to the front of the car, crouching down in front of the windshield and looking at the cracks that skittered their way across it. Perhaps because the rear end of the car had struck the ground first, or perhaps solely due to Naomi's intervention, but the windshield was still intact, and the driver did not seem to have any means of breaking it short of his fists.

Taking a deep breath, Naomi gathered the feeling of movement inside her. The juddering, churning movement of the engines, the curious buzzing sensation she got from the driver and passengers, and the more muted swirl of motion from the very air itself.

Carefully avoiding the people, afraid of what she might do to them, Naomi seized that motion, holding it in her mind while her hand unconsciously curled into a tight grip on nothing. Then, with s sharp jerk with both her mind and her hand, she put all of that motion into the windshield and pulled it outwards.

The glass shattered, hurled outwards with stunning speed and violence, scattering all over the pavement and road. She felt a cluster of them surge towards her face, twisting and spinning through the chaotically disrupted air, before freezing in place almost the moment her mind registered what they were doing.

The shouting increased in volume and the driver swore explosively, while at the same moment the engine jerked to a halt with a strangled cough and a wave of frigid air washed over them.

Naomi winced despite herself, and mouthed a 'sorry' at the driver of the now even more damaged vehicle.

Carefully sweeping the pieces of broken glass to one side with her jacket, Naomi crawled underneath the bonnet to reach the driver, who by this point had managed to unclip his seatbelt and was in the process and turning himself the right way up.

He waved aside Naomi as she reached out to help with a grunted "Help Hannah," indicating to the stunned looking woman in the passenger seat.

"Hannah?" Naomi asked gently, shaking the woman slightly until some focus returned to her gaze. "I'm going to support some of your weight. Can you remove your seatbelt?"

The woman, Hannah, nodded, and with Naomi awkwardly holding on to her shoulders she reached one hand down to the roof of the car and released the seatbelt with the other.

Straining under the weight, Naomi managed to pull her out under the bonnet until she could push herself out, sweeping aside any last pieces of glass while she did so.

The driver helped the young man in the back seat follow them out, and for a few seconds they all just stood there, hearts racing as they stared at the inverted, battered car.

"Well, shit," the driver sighed, blowing air out of his cheeks while running his hands through his hair. "That drive could've gone better."

This is what I need to do, Naomi realised, as she looked at the shaken but very much alive people standing next to her.

The first spectators to witness the accident were just then approaching, running over to check if anyone was injured.

Slightly too late for that, Naomi thought archly, with more than a hint of smugness. Deep down though, there was mostly just pride, as she listened to three people who would be dead without her reassure them they were unharmed.

Given all of the movement that she could see and feel around her, it was the stillness that drew her eye.

One the other side of the road, standing in the sunlight, a man was watching them. No, not watching them. Watching her.

While all other eyes were on the car and its former occupants, his were fixed solely on Naomi, and as she stared back, she knew that he had seen what she had done.