So, I don’t know if I mentioned this, but I have a minor superpower. Not the cyborg stuff. That exists, but isn’t really a power so much as a bunch of gadgets I wear to keep me alive. Nor any of the intellectual or creative abilities it has been alleged that I possess, for those are both ordinary in the scope of things, and also subjective. Rather I refer to my slight clairvoyance. I can sense changes in the weather. I have had this ability referred to as “my personal barometer”, but in truth it often functions more like a “personal air-raid siren”; specifically one that can’t be shut up.
Near as I can tell, this is related to pressure changes, and happens because something, somewhere inside me, is wired wrong. I have been told that my sinuses are out of order in such a way that would make me vulnerable to comparatively minor changes such as pressure, and strong circumstantial evidence suggests damage somewhere in my nervous system, caused by childhood encephalitis, which creates the microscopic, undetectable vulnerability that manifests in my seizures and migraines, and could plausibly be exploited by other factors.
This has the effect of allowing me to feel major weather changes somewhere between six hours and a week before it appears when I am, depending on the size and speed of a shift. It starts as a mild-bout of light-headedness, the same as the rush of blood flowing away from my head when standing up after not moving for some time. If it is a relatively minor dislocation, this may be all that I feel.
It then grows into a more general feeling of flu-like malaise; the same feeling that normally tells if one is sick even if there are not any active symptoms. At this point, my cognitive function begins to seriously degrade. I start to stutter and stumble, and struggle for the words that are on the tip of my tongue. I forget things and lose track of time. I will struggle both to get to sleep, and to wake up.
Depending on the severity and duration, these symptoms may be scarcely visible, or they may have me appearing on death’s door. It is difficult to tell these symptoms apart from those of allergies, migraines, or an infection, especially once I begin to experience chills and aches. This is compounded by my immune system’s proclivity to give false negatives due to my immunodeficiency, and false positives due to my autoimmune responses, for pathology. Fortunately, the end result is mostly the same: I am advised to stay home, rest, make sure I eat and drink plenty, redouble our protective quarantine procedures, etcetera.
At its worst, these symptoms also induce a cluster migraine, which confines me to bed and limits my ability to process and respond to stimuli to a level only slightly better than comatose. At this point, my symptoms are a storm unto itself, and, short of a hurricane, I’m probably not going to be much concerned with whatever is happening outside the confines of my room, as I’ve already effectively sealed myself off from the outside world. I will remain so confined for however long it takes until my symptoms pass. This may be a few hours, or a few weeks. During these days, my cognitive ability is limited to a couple hundred words, only forty or so of which are unique.
If I am lucky, I will still have the mental faculties to passively watch videos, listen to music with words, and occasionally write a handful of sentences. I generally cannot read long tracts, as reading requires several skills simultaneously – visual focus, language processing, inner narration, and imagination of the plot – which is usually beyond my limits. I can sometimes get by with audiobooks, provided the narration is slow enough and the plot not overly complex. If I am not able to deal with words, then I am limited to passing my waking hours listening to primarily classical music. Fortunately, I also tend to sleep a great deal more in this state.
Once I have entered this state, my superpower; or perhaps it is an unsung quirk of human perception; means that I don’t really consciously recognize time passing in the normal way. Without discrete events, sensations, or thoughts to mark time, the days all kind of meld together. With my shades closed, my light permanently off, and my sleep cycle shattered, days and nights lose their meaning. Every moment is the same as every other moment.
Thus, if it takes two weeks by calendar until I am well enough to return to normal function, I may wake up with only two or three days worth of discrete memories. And so in retrospect, the time that took other people two weeks to pass took me only three days. It therefore emerges that in addition to my limited form of clairvoyance, I also possess a limited form of time travel.
Admittedly, I am not great at controlling these powers. I have virtually no control over them, except some limited ability to treat the worst of the symptoms as they come up. So perhaps it is that they are not so much my powers as they are powers that affect me. They do not control me, as I still exist, albeit diminished, independent and regardless of them. They do affect others, but only through how they affect me.
All of this to say, the storms that are presently approaching the northeastern United States are having a rather large impact on my life at present. If I were of more of a superstitious bent, I might suggest that this is meant as a way to sabotage my plans to get organized and generally rain on my parade (cue canned laughter).
There isn’t a great deal that I can do to work around this, any more than a blind man can work around a print book. The best I can hope for is that this is a “two steps forward, one step back” situation, which will also depend on how quickly this storm clears up, and on me being able to hit the ground running afterwards.
