Dale Amps up

The warmth pooled deep within my core before I even finished the thought. I didn't fight it this time. I let it build, let the crackling hum rise up through my chest and down into my fingers, watching the woman's face change from a look of confusion to fear, and then I released it.

For a second the bathroom flashed white. The lights overhead flared, one of the bulbs sparking out, the mirror rattled in its frame, and I felt myself get pulled out of Trisha's body like a thread yanked off a spool.

And then I was propelled forward, falling and flying at the same time, that same lurching, weightless sensation I was starting to recognise, and beginning to love...

The first thing I noticed was the smell. Trisha had smelled like vanilla and cocoa butter from her expensive perfume and meticulous skin care. This one smelled like coffee grounds and wet hair.

The second thing I noticed was that my body felt... solid. Grounded. I looked down and found a thick pair of arms in a black security vest, the sleeves rolled up over chunky forearms. My hands were broad, the knuckles scarred, a cheap silver wedding band cutting into the finger.

"Right..." I said, and my voice came out low and rough. "Er, Different."

I pushed myself up off the floor and I got up on the first try. No wobbling, no grabbing the sink. I took a few steps and my boots hit the tiles with a satisfying thud, no barefoot slapping, no teetering on heels. It was honestly a relief.

I turned to the mirror.

The woman staring back at me was built like a brick shithouse. Late forties, I'd guess, though the years had been kind enough. Short cropped grey hair, buzzed close on the sides, longer on top, like she'd just gotten out of the army and never really left. A face that had seen some things and wasn't impressed by any of them. Square jawed with a nose that had been broken at least once. Dark eyes set under heavy brows. And a body that was stout in the way that meant business, thick through the shoulders, a solid barrel chest, a stomach that pushed out against the vest but sat under it like a foundation. The kind of woman who could carry a grown man out of a burning building and not break a sweat.

I flexed an arm. The bicep expanded and contracted under the rolled up sleeve. I gave a low whistle.

"Not bad, sweetheart," I said. "Not bad at all."

Then I heard it. A rustle of fabric behind me.

I turned around, and there was Trisha.

She'd sat up. She was sitting on the floor exactly where I'd left her, but she wasn't gasping or murmuring. She wasn't crying. She wasn't scrambling for her clothes. She was just sitting there with her legs folded underneath her, her blouse hanging open off one shoulder, her eyes half open and fixed on the far wall. She wasn't looking at me. She wasn't looking at anything.

"Trisha?" I said.

...

I crouched down in front of her, my knees popping. I waved a hand in front of her face. Nothing. I snapped my fingers next to her ear. Her eyelid didn't even twitch. Her face was completely blank, like someone had switched off the lights inside and vacated the premises.

"Hello?" I said. "Earth to Trish."

...

She sat there, breathing slow and even. Alive. And yet empty.

I reached out and poked her on the shoulder. She stayed put. I poked her harder, right in the collarbone.

Nothing.

A grin spread across my new face, pushing the chubby cheeks up to within my vision. Oh, this was interesting.

This was very interesting.

"Stand up," I said, only half expecting the request to be granted.

Trisha stood up.

She did it smooth, no hesitation, like a puppet on strings. Her blouse hung open off her shoulder and she didn't move to fix it. Her skirt was hanging around her knees, her tights in a tangle on the floor, and she just stood there staring at the wall.

"Turn around," I said.

She turned around slowly.

"Raise your right hand."

Up it went.

I couldn't help but chuckle in my gruff feminine tone. This was the best thing that had ever happened to me. Better than the orgasm. Better than anything. This woman was a puppet and I had the strings, and I hadn't even had to ask nicely.

"Okay, Trish. Let's have a bit of fun then. Do a little jig for me."

And off she went. No music, dead-eyed, legs flailing and her body moving rhythmically, the motions actually looked quite impressive, but the blank facial expression accompanying it looked utterly bizarre.

"Beautiful! Bravo!" I mocked, clapping slowly. "Now stick that pretty little hand down your panties and play with yourself."

Down it went. She worked herself slow and steady, no rhythm, no feeling, her face a blank sheet the whole time. It was like watching a mannequin, and somehow that made it hotter. She moved her index and middle finger in clumsy circles around the top of her pussy. Her stomach spasmed as she went, then after a few moments she let a deep breath escape her lips, her core tightening then releasing, then she just sat back down on the tiles, blank and obedient.

I crouched down in front of her again and studied her face. The trance didn't seem to be wearing off. "Probably best to not push this" I muttered. After all I didn't know the extent of all this yet.

"Alright," I said. "Let's see how you wake up."

I stood there and waited. Thirty seconds. A minute. Two. Trisha just sat there, breathing, blinking slow.

Then something shifted. Her shoulders twitched, like a shiver going through her. Her head moved a little, the first unprompted motion I'd seen, and her hand came up to her temple.

"Ow," she said. Her voice was hoarse and confused. "Ow, what the..."

She blinked again, and this time her eyes actually focused. They landed on me, on the security uniform, and her brow scrunched up.

"Oh," she said. "Oh, I'm sorry. I - what am I doing down here?" She looked around the bathroom, at the scattered mess of the room, and her face crumpled into something lost. "Why am I... why is my... erm...hair wet? Did I faint? I feel like I've been hit by a truck."

"Ma'am, you're alright," I said, trying to keep my voice level and professional. The security guard's voice was good for that. It came out calm and reassuring without me having to work at it. "You passed out. I found you on the floor here."

"I passed out?" She touched her own face like she was checking it was still there. "I don't... I don't remember passing out. I don't remember anything. I was in the meeting, and then..."

Her eyes went wide and panicky. "Oh god. The meeting. Brian. I have to get back to work, I have to -" She tried to stand and immediately swayed, her hand flying out for the sink. I caught her by the elbow and she grabbed my forearm with both hands.

"Easy, ma'am, easy" I said. "You must've took a knock. You should sit for a bit."

"No, no, I need to go home," she said. Her voice was shaky and small, nothing like the woman who'd been screaming at me an hour ago. "I need to lie down. I'm going to drive home. I'm sorry, I don't know why I'm -"

"It's alright," I said. "Go on. Get yourself home. Just be careful now miss"

She nodded, still holding her head, and shuffled out of the bathroom without her shoes, leaving them where they'd landed under the sink. I watched her go, and then I looked at my own reflection in the mirror one more time.

"Utterly clueless," I said. "And so easy to command in that state."

That was going to be useful. That was going to be very useful.

I took one more look at the mirror, turned my shoulders this way and that, and promptly decided I'd fucked worst looking women in my time. Then I went to find the security booth.

The building wasn't hard to navigate, and here's the part I hadn't expected...it was easy. I just knew. I knew the corridor, the stairwell, the fire door that stuck halfway and had to be shoulder-barged, the keypad code on the door to the security office, all of it. It just came to me, the way you know your own phone number.

Rosie, I thought, and the name came with a face and a whole pile of other stuff behind it. Rosie Callahan. Forty-eight. Ex-army as of eleven years. Did the day shift at this plant for the last six. Two ex-husbands, neither of them worth a damn. A 19 year-old daughter who called every Sunday evening. A knee that hurt when it got to winter. A door key code of 4-4-7-1. A little flask in the bottom drawer she hadn't touched in two years but kept anyway, just in case.

I huffed. "Rosie, you poor bastard."

The security office was a little glass box at the front of the building, monitors stacked three high with a radio on the desk. I dropped into the chair and it creaked under me.

The monitors were displaying the full extent of each of the three floors. I pulled up the camera feed and started cycling through them, one at a time, learning the layout of the place. Lobby. Parking lot. Loading bay. Server room. Break room. And there, on the fourth camera, the office floor where the meeting had been.

Empty now. Just a long table and a whiteboard and a few abandoned coffee cups.

I leaned back in the chair and let the cameras run for a while. Then I had a thought.

"Wonder if I could watch myself make my first 'jump'?" I thought aloud. "Could make for interesting viewing" I said, sitting up in the chair and slamming my less-than-dainty hand onto the computer mouse. I began scrubbing through the footage to find the time where the meeting concluded and Trisha and I headed out into the hall.

"Aha!"

I exclaimed, spotting the meeting attendees getting up to leave the meeting, the executives hanging back to share bemused looks and whisper to each other behind their hands whilst Trisha and 'Brian' exited the room in a hurry. I scanned the monitors to find the hallway view of the exchange that followed.

*"Give me those sexy lips..."*

My nose was almost touching the monitor I was that engaged with the scene, reliving the exchange that had happened earlier today. I watched intently as 'Brian' slammed his face onto Trisha's lips embracing in a short and unrequited embrace.

"Oh fuck yeah I forgot how hot that kiss was, she deserved that shit..." I said in a low voice, finding my hand making its way down to rub the front of the tactical cargo pants.

My attention was snapped firmly back to the monitor though upon seeing the crackle of what looked like lightning emanating from Brian's body and the sudden flash of white light, both bodies subsequently collapsing to the ground.

"Shit."

"Ok... That could be a problem."

"Ah well...one more thing to contend with I suppose, just no way to stealth jump" I said, allowing my hand to return to it's position over Rosie's crotch.

----

The camera on the control room floor had been quiet for most of the shift. I'd stuck around in Rosie just aimlessly playing with her body whilst I kept an eye on the cameras for any 'opportunities'.

I was beginning to think about leaving and heading back to Rosie's dump of an apartment, then a figure walked into frame on one of the cameras. Male, late twenties, wiry build, navy blue coveralls with the plant logo stitched over the pocket. He stopped at the vending machine by the wall, dug in his pocket, and fed it a note. The machine flashed, rattled and he bent down to fish his can out of the tray.

I leaned forward in Rosie's chair and watched him crack the tab and take a long swig. The way he stood there, one hand in his pocket just wandering around the hallway told me he was on a break. Probably fifteen minutes. Hopefully alone...

I checked the adjoining corridor cameras. Empty.

I stood up, and Rosie's knees popped like a couple of gunshots.

I bobbed up and down testing her legs, gave the monitors one last glance and headed for the door.

The route to the control room floor was a long walk through the plant, and my new legs ate it up. Rosie despite her clicking joints had a stride like a farmer, and I found myself enjoying the way my boots hit the concrete. No wobbling. No teetering. Just a straight line from point A to point B, and every door I passed I already knew whether it was locked or not. I didn't even have to think about it. The knowledge was just there, sitting in the back of my skull ready to be drawn upon.

The elevator took me up to the third floor. I stepped out into a corridor that smelled like ozone and hot metal, the hum of the plant vibrating up through the soles of my boots. The control room was at the end, behind a heavy door with a small window and control panel, and there, right where the camera had shown him, was the target.

He was still at the vending machine, leaning against it, drinking his can of Pepsi. Up close he was younger than I'd guessed, maybe twenty-four, with some spots dotted about his face and a patchy beard that must've been his attempt at looking older around his more gruff colleagues. His coveralls had a name tag. Kevin.

Kevin, I thought.

Sorry in advance, Kev.

I walked right up to him like I belonged there. He looked up, saw the security vest, and straightened up a little.

"Evening," I said.

"Evening," he said, wary but polite. "Everything alright?"

"Just doing my rounds," I said. "You working the control room tonight?"

"Yeah, I'm on till four." He gestured at the door behind him. "Just grabbing a drink."

"How many are on tonight?" I asked, peering down the corridor toward the large metal door.

"Er, six of us I think" Kevin replied.

"Mind if I take a look inside? Routine check."

He shrugged. "Sure, I guess. Door's open, didn't lock it behind me."

That was all I needed. I let the warmth build in my chest, that now familiar crackle, and I reached out and put my hand on his shoulder.

"What're you -"

The lights overhead flickered. The can dropped from his hand and hit the floor with a tinny clatter, dark soda spraying across the floor. And then I was falling, that lurching, weightless drop, and I landed in Kevin.

My eyes snapped open and I took in my surroundings, I looked down at the coveralls. Kevin. I flexed a hand. Long fingers, ink stains on the knuckles, a couple of scratches on the back of the right wrist.

Behind me, Rosie stood frozen, one hand still raised where I'd touched Kevin, her face blank as a sheet of paper. I gave her a quick look and decided to try cover my tracks somewhat. She was in the camera's blind spot, and the corridor was empty.

"Rosie, go down to the security room and wipe the camera recordings from around lunch to now. Once done just sit in your chair and get comfortable. You'll be confused when you wake up but just carry on your shift as normal"

Rosie just nodded, turned on her heels and stomped off through the corridor to carry out my command. At least that's what I assumed. I had other things to investigate now anyway, I just had to hope that command would be carried out.

I turned and pushed through the control room door.

It was smaller than I expected. A horseshoe desk with a bank of monitors, a couple of chairs, a wall of grey cabinets with dials and switches and little blinking lights. The hum in here was louder, a deep, steady thrum that I could feel in my teeth and my chest.

I walked in and closed the door behind me.

And then the room hit me.

*Thump*

It started as a tug, a gentle pull somewhere behind my navel, like a fish hook had snagged on something inside my head and was being reeled in slow.

*Thump*

I stopped in the middle of the room and looked around, but there was nothing there. Just the desk and the monitors and the cabinets. The tug got stronger. I felt my feet slide an inch across the floor toward the wall of cabinets, and I grabbed the edge of the desk to hold myself in place.

"What the fuck," I said, in Kevin's whiny voice.

*Thump*

The pull was coming from the cabinets direction. From the wires running through them, from the cables snaking down through the floor towards the inner core of the power plant. I could feel them now, the way you feel a current passing by your feet when you're standing in water. The whole plant was humming around me, and something was dragging my being towards it. Something wanted to coalesce with me, and instinct told me to accept.

The realisation hit me. I'd died in a substation. I'd woken up as a spark in a wire. Somehow gotten these 'powers' and now here I was, standing in the beating heart of the whole goddamn power network, and I was being called home.

*THUMP*

*THUMP*

The pull yanked hard, and Kevin's body lurched forward.

"Ay Kev, y'alright bud?" a coworker shouted from across the desk.

But I was in no position to form a reply.

I grabbed the desk with both hands and planted my feet, but the tug was relentless, a deep, insistent draw that felt less like a force and more like gravity. And then, all at once, I just let go.

One second I was Kevin, fingers clawing at the edge of a steel desk, and the next I was nothing at all, just a current meeting the flow of electricity. Kevin's body dropped. I felt it leave me the way you feel a coat get yanked off your shoulders, and then the desk wasn't under my hands any longer because I didn't have hands.

The room went white.

Not the soft white of a fluorescent tube. This was the white of a welder's arc, the white that gets into the back of your skull and burns a hole there. It came off me like a flashbang going off at chest height and I heard it hit the room behind me as I was pulled down through the floor.

"What the f-"

"Christ, my eyes!"

"I can't see, I can't bloody see!"

Six adult men, all of them blind at once. I heard a chair go over. Glass breaking. Somebody's boots hammering across the tiles and then a heavy bang as a man ran straight into a cabinet. The alarms kicked in a second later, that flat electronic whoop that says get out of the building, and somebody was shouting over the top of it about a transformer blowing, about calling the grid, about not touching anything metal.

I wanted to laugh. I would've laughed if I'd had a mouth to do so.

The pull took me down, through the cable trays, down a riser shaft lined with fat black bundles of copper. I couldn't see any of it. I didn't have eyes. But I could feel the shape of everything I passed through, the way you can feel the shape of a room in the dark by walking through and bouncing off the walls and furniture.

Down and down and down.

And then I hit the core.

I hit it like a man falling into a swimming pool full of maple syrup. Every part of me spread out at once and touched everything it could reach. The turbines, the busbars, the transformers, the switchgear, the whole humming nest of it, and it was all moving through me in one long endless current that didn't hurt. It was the opposite of pain. It was every nerve ending I didn't have, all firing at the same time, all in time with each other in waves of warmth.

The energy climbed. I couldn't measure it but I didn't need to. I just knew I was getting bigger. Denser. Stronger. The little sputtering spark that had crawled out of Brian and into Trisha and into Rosie and then into Kevin was being fed now, poured full and then overflowing.

And then something wrapped itself around me.

Tight. Tighter than a blanket. It came from every direction, hot and dry and close, and squeezed, and for a second I thought the whole thing had been a mistake and I was about to be snuffed out and would just vanish forever.

Then it released, and I came out the other side of it different...

I don't know how to describe it better than that. It was like the difference between hearing a song through a wall and being sat next to the speaker. I'd been a guy who could jump into people. Now I was a guy who could jump into people, but now I could see everything.

The plant opened up in front of me. Blue and white, drawn in thin glowing lines, laid out like a floorplan somebody had sketched with pencil. Every circuit. Every cable. Every socket, every switch, every strip light, every monitor, every coffee machine sitting on every desk. The wiring came first, branching out through the walls like the roots of a tree, and where the wiring touched something, that something lit up in my vision too. Blue for the dead ones. White for the live.

I found the control room instantly. Six blue outlines standing around, arms up over their faces, one of them crouched down on the floor.

I pushed my attention down the corridor and there she was. Rosie, an outline of a big woman sat down at her desk. Her monitor stack glowed white in front of her. I watched her outline leaning over the desk, reaching out to operate the keyboard and mouse.

Good girl.

I went further. The whole site lit up for me, all of it at once, hundreds of rooms and corridors and cabinets, the substation out at the fence line still ticking over, the little gatehouse with a guard reading a paper under a strip light. I could see the room he was in down to the chair he was sat on. I could even see the mug on his desk.

I pulled my focus in tight, back to the control room, and tried something. I found the panel light above the door and I squeezed.

It went out. Then I turned it back on. Then I flickered it three times in a steady interval, slow, like a signal.

Somebody in there swore and said the electrics were going to kill them all. I turned the main lights down to a dull orange and left them there to recover their vision.

The comforting blanket feeling was fading now, settling into something steadier, like a thick coat I'd put on that would keep me warm. I sat in the heart of the plant and let the current roll through me and got used to the size and strength of what I'd just become.

The way I saw it, I'd come into this place as a scared thief. A tiny particle just hopping around the place. Now I was the building. Every wire in it was a finger I could point. Every socket was a door I could walk through. Every camera was an eye I could shut off or turn on. Every device a weapon for my mischief.

I thought about the substation where I'd met my tragic end. But the thought was not one of regret or sadness. It was one of pure optimism. Less of an end. More of a rebirth.

"Alright, Now we're cooking baby!"