Knowledge
Scribbled on 10 April, 2009 at about 4:29 a.m.
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"How does it work?" I remember asking her.
Not half an hour ago I had seen her run to us through a dozen people shooting at her. There was no way she could have made it and no sane reason for her to think she -had- to make the attempt. I remember every detail because I -couldn't- look away. I was absolutely certain that I was about to witness a friend shot to pieces and suddenly there was nothing else in the world.
So rapt was my attention that I -knew- my eyes and memories did not deceive me. I knew because I had memorized every insignificant detail every single second.
I could count the number of people shooting at her. Twelve. I could count every shot. Two from the men at the front of the camp. Then four more from the three people busy cooking the day's catch in the middle. More, as people emerged from the makeshift tents. A total of seventy-three shots. Seventy-three. I had already counted them in my head over and over. The odds of not one of those touching her had to be astronomical. And yet not only had I seen her make the run, unarmed, unprotected, and without a scratch but I had watched as she stopped, spun on her heel, and -threw- something back behind her. Four men had dropped as if shot, and the rest had simply disappeared into hiding, none of them willing to be the first to show a piece of himself after witnessing it.
She later claimed that she was 'fairly sure' she had thrown their own bullets back at them.

"It doesn't," was her answer, and her face was furrowed, almost a scowl in thought. "I mean, I don't -do- anything. It just happens. When I absolutely, absolutely know I -have- to do something, I just stopped noticing the things that will stop me from doing it. Nothing out of the ordinary really happens."
Now, I had just seen her dodge a hailstorm of bullets, catch a handful, and kill four men with them, so I had to be a little in awe by the fact that she seemed to think 'nothing out of the ordinary' had happened.
She had to have read the disbelief on my face because she went on to try to explain it to me.
"It's like, if somebody important to me is trapped in a burning building, and I know, I know, that that person is going to die if I don't somehow get to them, I will run to where they are, find them, and get out. People will tell me that the wind cleared a path through the fire, and kept it open until I came out. Or they'll say that I ran through a solid wall, like a ghost. Maybe even that I flew in through the window. But I don't remember any of these things. I know that they are not possible."
I had to mull this over for a long time, and when I came back, I asked her whether there was any limitation to this.
Predictably, she told me that she didn't know. She couldn't possibly say what sorts of miracle she could work since as she knew it, she had never -done- anything particularly difficult to believe.
Perhaps the only thing preventing any of us from doing the impossible is the knowledge that it cannot be done.

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