MAGICAL POWERS

At exactly six in the morning, a silver bell on top of my little tower alarm clock chimed softly and beautifully around my room.

However, I had been fully awake thirty minutes earlier, and was sitting cross-legged on the warm wooden floor, completely focused on the breath in a simple meditation.

I opened my eyes, feeling much better and refreshed.

In fact, meditation time was the best time of my life. Meditation is the only activity where my head feels empty and peaceful, as I focus my entire body, mind, and spirit solely on the breath. And meditation really helps me to live my life in the midst of all the glimpses of events and sounds that came into my mind, every time I passed by or even contacted with any kind of inanimate objects or living things. Meditation keeps me calm and not easily distracted, even if I have to walk to the bakery while seeing flashes of people around me whining to their parents for candy as a child, crying over their mother's death three days ago, stealing a wallet on the train thirty minutes ago, or making love with their lover in a public restroom five minutes ago.

No, I wasn't suffering from a mental illness. What happened to me, it was a natural ability, just like hearing sound with both ears and seeing light with both eyes. It's just that what I see and hear goes further than that.

Yes, I can see and hear the past of anything and anyone around me. It's some kind of magical talent that I was born with.

How did I come to have this ability? Honestly, I didn't know. Flashes of the past have been popping up in my mind since I was a child. It felt strange. But the flashes didn't stop flowing, just like oxygen didn't stop entering your lungs even when you're asleep. Although it was unusual, scary at first, but as the time goes by I gradually made peace with it, and accepted it as a part of me that would always be here inside my mind for the rest of my life.

When I look at a person's past, I can see not only the events of his life that happened yesterday or a year ago, or when he was just born. I can see all the way back to previous lifetimes, if that person has had previous lives and experienced reincarnation.

And when I touch the ground of the planet Bima, I can witness the various events that have occurred on the surface of Bima, even the creation of Bima in the universe from nothing for the first time.

With this ability, I can see that the ancestors of the Bima people were humans who possessed magic power and almost immortal life. Their power far exceeds what I can do right now. Something that is far beyond the reasoning and imagination of all people today, which may only be heard of in the myths of gods and goddesses.

In fact, the myths are true. Thousands of years ago, gods and goddesses with magic powers existed. They were the ancestors of the original Bima people. Almost everything told about these gods and goddesses really happened--emerging from nothing, the first pair of god and goddess then created other gods and goddesses, created Bima and its surroundings, nurtured it, destroyed it. Even the ancient wars were real. I saw everything really happened.

But one day, a giant meteor hit Bima. The meteor made their power and immortality extinct. And that's how humans were born in the next age with no magical powers at all, with a limited lifespan, until now.

Even so, somehow, anomalies returned from time to time. The souls of powerful humans of the past reincarnate back to the present, and carried a bit of their abilities with them, though they did not understand what is happening or what they are experiencing now. Some refer to it as supernatural powers. Some refer to it as possession. Some refer to them as hallucinations, or mental illness.

Unfortunately, none of those conjectures were even closed to the truth. Well, that's because none of them can see into the distant past to the time of the original creation of the Bima, like I did.

Does that mean I'm the reincarnation of one of the past great ancestors? Yes, it's possible.

I could see anyone's past, or anything, but strangely, I could never see my own past in its entirety. I could only see a few pieces if I looked at the past of someone I had interacted with at the time. In my own eyes, I was an incomplete puzzle.

I've never even dreamed in my sleep, in my entire life.

And yes, I'm not the only one who has this little legacy of magical power in this day and age. I know some people who have magical talents in this Sand Sea country--some of them are my father, a teacher at my school, my best friend, and even the president of this country, Dirah Mahalini.

However, everyone's magical talent that I saw was not the same. My father, for example, could not see the past, but he could see anyone and anything in the present through all objects and distances. He could even see an ant crawling on a leaf that had fallen over a river in another country.

Perhaps it was because of this ability that he was appointed as the Chief of States Protective and Intelligence Forces. Though of course, no one knew he had such a talent, other than me, his daughter who could see into his entire past, even into his previous life. People called my father an incomprehensible genius, with incredibly sharp instincts, like a necromancer.

Such words and nicknames make me laugh. If they could see my father in his previous life--what he could do now was nothing at all. He used to be a king with immense power, able to split seas and lands thousands of kilometers away from himself.

It sounds absurd, but it's the truth.

Sometimes I wonder, why were we born with magical powers and almost eternal life? Why then did those powers and immortality disappear? Why were we born again, with a little bit of power after humanity had lived for so long without the magical powers of the past? Why is everyone's magical talent different? What exactly is the purpose of all this?

I could see the past, but I could not find the truth or definitive answers to my questions. Maybe it was because I could only see inanimate objects and living things, but I could never see the Universe. I finally came to my own conclusion with the typical thinking of a seventeen-years-old girl like me: it's up to the Universe.

After stretching for a moment, I walked over and turned off the unique alarm clock on the table next to my bed. Then I hurried to take a shower, put on my school uniform of a white shirt top and skirt, put on my white bandana, and went downstairs to the dining room for breakfast.

My father was already seated at the dining table, calmly sipping his favorite hot black coffee, and not at all touching the abundance of warm food on the dining table that had been served by the housemaids and chefs.

This morning my father seemed as neat and charming as ever. He always styled his appearance the same way--curly black hair neatly combed behind the ears and covered in scented gel. His face is always clean-shaven, and his suit and trousers never look rumpled even though he's been on the move all day.

Perfectionist, handsome, neat, genius, rigid, cold. Those are the right words to describe my father.

I sat next to my father and glanced at him. He seemed so calm, but I knew his eyes were looking off into the distance as if he was watching for some things he wanted to see. I glanced at him, and I saw that he was watching the movements of some of his men who were on monitoring duty in several places, and watching the president's movements at her residence a few minutes ago. What he's watching now, whether it's the same or has changed, I don't know. I can only see the past. What my father sees now, I'll find out in a while, that if I'm still focused and stay closed by him.

Our talents do function uniquely and differently. I won't be able to see or hear the past of a person or thing unless I'm near of it, or have interacted with it, or touched something related to it. And how far I could see into his past depended on how I focused my attention. Meanwhile, my father could see everything without being obstructed by objects and distance. But of course, what he sees depends on how he focuses his attention. It's all coming back to how we manage our focus.

That's why meditation is so important for me to manage my focus. Because if I don't adjust my focus, I can see and hear the past of everything and everyone near me. The vastness of events and the noise of voices--it felt like millions of movies were being shown quickly and simultaneously in my head. It was dizzying and nauseating. And yes, I would go completely insane if I had to see and hear everything constantly throughout the day.

I guess, everyone who possesses this magical power is indeed living on the thin line between sanity and insanity. Well, it's no wonder that people say what we experience is a mental disorder. If only they could feel what we feel... sometimes I envy people who have normal, ordinary lives.

"There's a new kid in your class today," my father spoke in his flat baritone voice, jolting me out of my musings. "You don't need to get along with him. I don't think you'll like him either. Just stay away from him. Just pretend he never existed."

"Ah yes, the new kid is a boy, right? I heard the teachers talking about him in the teacher's lounge yesterday," my two-years-older brother, Saga, appeared and immediately filled his plate with all kinds of food he could reach until it was full. His figure and face resembled my father, tall and handsome, but his behavior was a hundred and eighty degrees different--always noisy, messy, and careless. "Listen, Puri, even Dad has not given his blessing. So don't mess around."

"Oh, shut up!" I grumbled as I took a bite of an apple.

"Were you punished again yesterday, Saga?" my father gave Saga a sharp look. "I heard that you put iron glue on the bench of one of your classmates?"

"Yes, indeed," Saga admitted lightly. "He deserved it."

"I don't want to know what business you have with that boy, but stop being so childish. If you keep acting like this, I'll put you in the Military Academy, so you'll know the meaning of discipline and responsibility," my father threatened.

"Whatever!" Saga pushed away his plate that was barely touched and stood up. "Just do what you want. After all, you've always done what you want, without wanting to know what I want, right? Because you're the greatest man in this country, you know everything, and I'm just a stupid kid who doesn't know anything!"

"Saga!" I called out sadly as Saga walked out of the dining room without looking back.

"Don't follow your brother, Puri," my father wiped his mouth and picked up his cell phone, then typed something. "Saga will regret his actions one day. You just need to listen to what I say if you want everything in your life to be okay. Believe me, life won't get any easier in the future, and there's no time for you to act rashly, if you still want to survive."

I stared at my father in despair and suddenly lost my appetite. But I never had the courage like my brother to defy my father. I said quietly, "Okay, Dad... I'm going to school now," and walked out of the dining room with my head bowed.

Why did they never get along? Always fighting, I complained silently.

Passing through the living room, I paused for a moment in front of a giant framed portrait of our family with laughter and happy smiles.

The photo was taken when I was eleven years old, a few months before my mother died of blood cancer.

Despite being thin and hollow-cheeked, my mother still seemed very beautiful and smiled broadly while holding me in her arms. People always said I'd inherited my mother's beauty--thick beautiful eyebrows, soft brown eyes, full lips, a straight nose, and thick straight black hair, smooth brown skin. But I knew that nothing in this world could match her true beauty and kindness.

Perhaps that's why my rigid and cold father, who originally married without love because he was forcibly matched by my grandfather, gradually fell in love and smiled warmly when he met my mother. But since long ago, they were destined to be together. They were an inseparable true love, transcending all boundaries beyond time and space.

When I was younger, I used to pour my heart out while sitting in front of my mother's portrait. But as I grew up and realized my father's abilities, I no longer did it. At least, not openly.

Mom... they're fighting again, I complained to my mother silently. Dad had always been hard, but he had never been this cold and hard... not since your death. I guess I can understand... Dad must be very sad and missing you, Mom. We all are. But for him, you're as important as the sun to the universe and the Bima. Without you, he lost half of his soul. I can understand that ... but sometimes I also wish, Dad could be a little more gentle and warm to me and Saga. Aren't we his flesh and blood? Do we have to live like this until we die? Isn't there another way for us to be close and happy like we used to be?

I took a deep breath and whispered, "I have to go, Mom... I love you," then I walked away from the house towards school.

***