Chapter 1 - Part 2

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Exiting the Library was a strange feeling, one that Jackson could never quite describe. He felt as if he was jumping out of a pool filled with syrup, but the syrup never quite touched him. As he "woke up", Jackson still felt like syrup, but for a completely different reason. He was tired. As he tried to shake off his morning sickness, he walked out of his room, down the hall, and into the bathroom. After flipping on the lights and wincing at the suddenly bright noise, his eyes adjusted and he started his morning routine.

Brush teeth. Take a shower. Dry his thick mane of brown hair that ran almost to his shoulders. Stare in the mirror for a minute. Maybe two. Staring into his own green eyes, Jackson recollected himself and left the bathroom. He skipped breakfast, knowing all too well he didn't have the time for it. Grabbing the backpack he set in front of the door the day before, he set off for school.

Takeshi High was a two-mile walk from Jackson's house, through fringe-suburbs bordering downtown Vera City. Jackson passed a bus stop, students milling around the sign waiting for a bus. He opted not to take public transportation, needing the exercise and wanting to avoid other students. The first half of his walk was quiet. He passed townhouses and small apartment complexes, bakeries, and banks. Normal town stuff. When he came to a T intersection, both ways heading away from the school, he went West, further into the city. It was the slower of the two routes. Jackson's pace sped up slightly, to match the others who had joined him on the sidewalk, commuting to their job in one of the towering grey monoliths above them. Jackson put in his earbuds, off until this portion of his trip, and put on a song he wasn't quite sure if he enjoyed. Two blocks in, and decidedly not in the direction of the school, Jackson entered an area of town not dominated by professionals, but tourists. Glitzy restraints and novelty shops were just now opening up, and already families with cameras were looking at their phones, trying to figure out where the next landmark was. Jackson even noticed one family in matching Hawaiian shirts, which amused him in his thick brown jacket. That family was looking at a paper map they had somehow acquired, visibly distressed and turning around like a broken carousel.

Jackson considered going over to help them, but before he could, he heard a disruption in the air above him. A man, flying 15 feet off the ground, zoomed over Jackson, landing near the family and striking a pose. The gesture might have seemed cocky, but the family ate it up, asking for a photo as he helped them locate their destination. As he turned around to leave, Jackson got a good look at his face. It was American Dream, a blond hair blue eyes square jaw hero in tight blue spandex showing off everything. His outfit was chintzy and his shtick tasteless, but it was retro and somehow back in fashion. From what Jackson had heard anyways, American Dream tried to seem like a B-lister photo-op type to make villains underestimate him. And from the grin on his face, it either worked or he was a very good actor.

He flew off, and Jackson continued his trek. It was another 4 blocks before he reached his first destination, the Vera City Central Library. He wasn't there for the Library itself, God knows he's been in a library enough. Jackson estimated he'd been in The Library of Powers longer then most people live. He was headed towards a large water feature in front of the central branch. A few tourists milled around the fountain, even some Vera City citizens watching the streams of water. Jackson headed for an empty spot on the Southern side of the pool and looked into the waters.

The fountain was octagonal, about 30 feet long on either side. The waters inside the fountain were completely still, despite pumps shooting the water through tubes into crazy arcs of varying directions. It was almost as if the fountain was frozen in time, much like his library. Jackson, like many others near him, stared into the water, and then placed a singular hand inside. The pool was not deep, a foot at the most. When Jackson's hand touched the pool's bottom, black tendrils appeared in the water, dancing around his fingertips. As he removed his hand, ink had been stained into words on his Palm, which read "You'll be fine. No matter how bad it seems, you'll be fine."

The Writing Well did many things, but researchers could only confirm one. It gave advice. You couldn't direct what you wanted advice on, and it wasn't always good advice. But the Writing Well had never caused pain or misery in someone, except by not answering a question they desperately needed. It simply helped. Which is why Jackson was very afraid of the response he had got from the well. Being fine was arbitrary. The fountain never said when he'd be fine it could be a week or 19 years from now. "How bad it seems" could mean that his problem wasn't bad at all, or maybe it meant that it is bad but would be narrowly avoided. All in all, the writing well had caused misery and pain for Jackson, by giving him too much to consider. So Jackson walked off flustered, sticking his still wet hand in his coat pocket to warm up. This time, Jackson headed towards Takeshi High.

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