Silence is Golden, the Game

by Bruce Kasanoff on November 10, 2011

Two armed men approached the ten-year-old boy. One had a gun. The other a machete.

Timmy just stood there, silently.

The larger guy, sweating profusely and wiping blood off his forehead, looked the boy in the eye and warned, “I am going to mess you up.”

Timmy allowed himself the tiniest of smiles, and focused on taking deep, steady breaths as slowly as possible.

The giant fainted. His partner wasn’t happy. He slammed the hilt of his blade into a car window, smashing it. “You did that, punk. It ain’t going to work on me.”

With a barely perceptible glance, Timmy looked over the mercenary’s shoulder at the indicators monitoring Timmy’s vitals. His pulse was 20% under his normal resting rate. He’d set a new record for standing motionless, both in terms of lack of motion and duration. His focus scores were through the roof – best ever.

He slowed things down ever more. The thug started whimpering like a scared puppy, then he, too, fainted.

Down the block, a new group of criminals materialized. Timmy could sense shadows growing from vantage points on top of buildings. There would be new weapons to contend with, new surprises designed to startle him out of his calm and focused state.

No worries.

This was ten times better than sitting in a room with a stupid psychologist babbling on and on about how ADD was just a different way of a brain responding. It wasn’t lame, either, like exercises out of the three dozen books his Mom bought about kids with differences.

This game was smart. It watched his body, inside and out. The better he controlled his breath, movements, and focus, the more power he gained. The calmer he got, the more things he controlled. The more he controlled, the higher his score.

Funny thing, too. The slower he became, the easier the game seemed. He was better able to figure out what the game was going to throw at him next, to spot the mistakes his attackers made… or were about to make.

There, it happened. A force field formed around the approaching gang; now all he had to do was tighten the field until they couldn’t move. Timmy took his slowest, deepest breath ever.

Written by Bruce Kasanoff of Now Possible, where science fiction meets business.

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