There were side effects. Eric's pain was gone. All of it. His back, his hips, his knees, his feet, his shoulders, his hands. His teeth didn't hurt, and he was pretty sure that if he focused on it, he could grow back the handful that had rotted and fallen out. That headache he'd been sporting since 2004 was long gone, and he didn't think it was coming back. His breathing was free. There was no sensation of constriction in his chest. He wasn't sporting a boner at random points during the day--and was happy about that; he was relieved when his libido withered and would not want to go back to those feelings of unfulfilled longings--but his piss was strong and clear and his bladder felt like it had grown eight sizes. He still wore the stupid titanium-framed glasses everywhere that he'd worn forever with the 15 year old prescription, but he could actually see pretty well now. He was still soft but not really stooped, and he was able to hike that 10 kilometers or so to this spot in less than two and a half hours. Eric didn't have to carry all the stuff he had on his little beach, but such a walk with a pack would have been a death march for him before. And he could sleep. He did remember in his biking days that he would get into a little shape and not need as much sleep; in later days he was exhausted all the time, but bed made everything hurt after a few hours, so his sleep was quite nearly as miserable as the rest of his life. It wasn't the gravity that was making Eric feel stronger; he was better off now, even if his memory was clearer now, and it was. He understood that was an inevitable side-effect, and he had not experienced the full-on technicolor, 3D recall that was a side effect of the full treatment. Eric was also mildly sensitive to the others--again, there was no way around that--but it was not well-defined. Dylan was probably nearly complete, and possibly Mick as well; the rest would grow their sensitivity slowly, but Eric knew he was not nearly as susceptible and would never be around long enough anyway.
Eric was more than happy to spend most of his time here, away from the others. It wasn't really that far, and he did see small sails out on the water and hear the sounds of riders up on the ridges in back of him every once in a while--it might have even been Mick once; Eric wasn't sure, but he felt like it was someone different. He timed his walks back so that he would get to the Village right before the big moon came up so he would be perfectly on time to eat, take a hot shower, and go to sleep in the very dark, very quiet room with the very comfortable bed.
When he was back there, Eric was sure that Tom Dillon wanted to talk to him; he didn't need to be a fucking mind reader to know that but talking with Dylan was last thing Eric wanted to do. The kids' sister, Hanna, too; that was fucked up. He had no idea what she wanted. Probably something to do with Rebecca, so that was reason enough to stay way the fuck away from that fucking sasquatch spawn of Mick and Rebecca.
Eric recognized the Village. Everyone thought that Dillon had dreamed it up, but Eric thought that Dillon was too fried. Maybe he had done it, but Eric didn't think so. Not Mick, either. He wasn't even fucking there, so that wasn't right. The first time he'd seen it, Eric had seen it for what it was. He didn't recognize the specifics of course, but it was pretty obvious where campus idea got started.
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