Socket 3 - The Legend of Socket Greeny Read Online Free

me to come watch them;
even Spindle suggested I take some time to come out, they were much
improved. So I got outside and immediately felt the difference
between fresh air and filtered air. Besides, the molding office had
a certain taste, something that was fake and empty that penetrated
every object and hung beneath every fragrance. I watched and
clapped and slapped their hands as they showed off their best
tagghet skills.
    I took the long way back to the office,
inside the mountain and down a wide hallway that curved left. Tall,
rectangular windows were along the right spotting the floor with
stretched boxes of sunlight on the floor. All of this stuff was
new, an attempt to transform Garrison Mountain from a dreary tomb
to something open and inviting.
    I gazed at the wide boulder-field below that
separated the mountain and the transportation wormhole on the far
side, connecting our remote existence to the rest of the world. It
used to be impossible terrain to cross, unless you had something
that could hover. But now there was a road that dipped and curved
through the giant rubble.
    Girls in school uniforms, chattering in
Japanese, came around the hallway bend. Their teachers tried to
keep them together like shepherds. John Tackleton, their tour
guide, was trying to keep up. He was a civilian, recruited a few
months earlier to lead public tours through the Garrison.
    Not only did the public have access to the
Paladin facilities, they used the wormhole to transport back and
forth from around the world. In fact, there were discussions about
opening wormholes for public transportation, but that wasn’t easy.
To tear a hole in space-time required an enormous amount of psychic
energy. Much of the Paladins’ efforts went to just maintaining our
own network. It would be decades before something could be done for
the public. But the talks were in the works, and that had never
even been considered before. Much like field trips.
    The children ran to the windows, their shiny
black hair bouncing. They ran around me like I was nothing more
than a pillar. They pointed across the field and shouted about the
wormhole. That was their favorite part of the trip, so far: one
second they were in Tokyo and next they were here. And the weird
feeling in their stomachs when they crossed over was like the
world’s tallest roller coaster ride that lasted all of a second.
Wormhole transportation was never that fun, but we changed that,
too. They said this in Japanese, but I understood. The words may be
different, but thoughts and emotions were universal.
    They ran for the steps and out of sight, on
their way to the Preserve where they would forget all about the
wormhole. The tour guide would tell them about all the great
research the Paladin Nation was conducting in the Preserve and all
the species of plants and animals it supported. Those kids wouldn’t
hear a thing once the grimmets arrived.
    Word about the grimmets had spread across the
world. The tours came to learn about the inner workings of the
Paladin Nation, but it was the grimmets they came to see. Monkeys
and otters couldn’t compete with grimmets on their best day. In
public, they’d already manufactured stuffed grimmets with wiry
tails that kids hung from their book bags. They came in all
different colors and people lined up to buy the newest release. Collect them all!
     
    My footsteps dented the pliable floor of my
office and the walls swirled with color, shifting and molding
shapes from the floor and ceiling. A bed developed at my right and
an entertainment center to the left. A large patio formed with
folding doors thrown wide open. A cool, salty breeze blew
inside.
    My mother lay on the lounger on the balcony
overlooking the Pacific Ocean. Her snores came in mild waves. I
gently touched the railing. The resort was built right on the
northern California cliffs, overhanging the tide that crashed on
ship-eating rocks.
    “Socket.” Mother wiped the corner of her
mouth. “I