But a high achiever at what?
How can I be good at something if I can’t even figure out what it is I’m good at? Jax wondered.
Every day after school, Jax took the subway up to Sentia. In that same little office, he continued to plow through pages upon pages of questionnaires. Dr. Mako might have handpicked him, but he apparently didn’t think it was worth his time to stop by and say hello. Jax was beginning to wonder if the director came here at all, or if he spent the bulk of his time looking for politicians and celebrities to pose with.
In Dr. Mako’s absence, Maureen Samuels was in charge. So she was the person to talk to about the institute’s function, and what Jax was supposed to be doing there. But the truth was that whenever he got close to her, the scenery went a little gray. She was so traffic-stoppingly beautiful that, when she was around, everything else faded into the background, even his burning curiosity about Sentia and how he might fit in.
The clues were few and far between. There was a handful of framed news articles among the many celebrity pictures, but most of them seemed to be about Dr. Mako and his hotshot connections — Mako at the statehouse, Mako with Bill Gates, Mako addressing the European Union, Mako at the Academy Awards. There were occasional references to the institute’s “groundbreaking” research, or the “revolutionary” ideas being hatched there. Even the institute’s Wikipedia entry gave only its name and address, followed by the long resume of its founder and director.
It finished with Dr. Elias Mako has devoted his life to New York City education and is an inspiration to every single one of us.
Right, thought Jax. Been there, done that.
Whatever the purpose of Sentia was, there seemed to be a standing order to keep newbies in the dark about it. Jax tried asking questions and was invariably referred to Ms. Samuels — if he got any answer at all. Half the time, the staff members pretended to be extremely busy, rushing off to be groundbreaking and revolutionary in some other part of the building.
What was going on? Jax picked up a few hints, but they didn’t add up to anything concrete. Once, while searching for the men’s room, he barged in on three barefoot people jumping up and down yelling, “Oh!” … “Ow!” … “Ee!” while a seated observer made notes on a ring-bound pad. Another time, coming back from the commissary, he opened a door to find a group of people crawling across the floor on their bellies, heads down, faces strained with fear.
“Stay low!” ordered one of them. He was shouting, as if straining to be heard in the silent room. “Incoming fire!”
Several staff members watched from a glass booth. One of them was Ms. Samuels, so most of the other details were a blur. But Jax could have sworn that the person on her left was a dead ringer for the Amazing Ramolo.
On Wednesday, Jax stumbled upon a man running on a treadmill — only he wasn’t exercising. Jax could have sworn he was fleeing for his life. He was fully dressed in a suit and tie, and glancing over his shoulder in sheer panic.
Wilson DeVries was at the treadmill control. He turned on Jax, his face contorted with fury. “Get out of here!”
The sharp exclamation threw the runner off his rhythm. He pulled up short, and the fast-moving belt hurled him off, slamming him against the back wall.
The commotion brought Ms. Samuels from the office. She took stock of the situation and immediately rushed to the side of the subject, who lay on the floor, stunned.
Wilson pointed at Jax. “He barged in here and wrecked my experiment!”
“I didn’t wreck anything!” Jax shot back. “You messed him up when you yelled at me! What were you doing in here, anyway? How come nobody will tell me what’s going on?”
The assistant director fixed her luminous blue eyes on Jax. “It’s part of Dr. Mako’s plan,” she soothed. “Everything will be made clear when Dr. Mako considers you ready.”
Her supermodel looks had no calming effect on him this time. “Dr. Mako didn’t see what I just saw! This poor guy was running for his life, like he was being chased by a pack of wolves!”
“It was a tiger!” Wilson blurted angrily.
“What?”
Samuels put her hands on Jax’s shoulders. “We need you to go back to your testing. Wilson, call the nurse. Everything is under control.”
It was a tiger.
The words kept echoing in Jax’s ears. Was Wilson making fun of him? It wouldn’t be the first time. The guy was a class A jerk to everybody, but he always saved his best stuff for Jax.
But another thought nagged at him. What if Wilson was telling the truth? Obviously, there was no tiger chasing the man on the treadmill. Yet maybe he thought there was. You didn’t get that scared from nothing.
Hallucination — could that be the missing link between Sentia and Jax? So far, his visions had just been reflections of himself, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t get worse. Was this only the beginning, and eventually he’d be fleeing from nonexistent carnivores?
Exceptional skills in the area of communications, Mako’s letter had said. But maybe that was just the bait. The director wouldn’t attract a lot of fresh blood if he started his invitations with Dear Fruit Loop …
Could Jax be a patient here, not a participant? What if Sentia was some kind of experimental psych ward? Was that what made the place so all-fired groundbreaking and revolutionary? It certainly would explain why no one would reveal the institute’s real purpose.
If that was true, were Mom and Dad in on it? Jax doubted it. Okay, they had sent him to see a shrink over his strange visions. But the family had abandoned that idea after Dr. Gundenberg tried to jump out the window. And while his parents peppered him with questions about his afternoons at Sentia, their tone was always interested and upbeat.
If they thought I was psycho, there’d be a lot less smiling.
“A mental patient? You?” was Tommy’s reaction when Jax told him his theory the next day. “No offense, Opus, but you’re not that interesting.”
“It makes no sense! They leave me totally on my own in the testing room. I could paint half the institute purple with my toes before anyone noticed. That’s not how you’d treat a real crazy person, right?”
“Well, what about the other kids?” Tommy asked. “Are they patients, too?”
Jax shrugged. “I’m pretty sure I’m the only one who’s still in the dark about Sentia. I think the others know more, but I could be wrong about that. I could be wrong about all of it.”
“What are they like?” Tommy probed. “Are they all as bad as that Wilson guy?”
“He’s the worst, but nobody’s exactly friendly,” Jax replied. “They’re probably warned not to talk to me, so they can’t let slip something I’m not supposed to hear. Every time I walk into the lounge, I hear the conversation dying. It’s like I’ve got leprosy.”
His friend was oddly triumphant. “Just because you get picked for something doesn’t mean it isn’t going to stink,” Tommy lectured. “This is no different than the debate team or student council. You’re not crazy; you just signed up for a crummy institute.”
On Thursday afternoon, a blessed event occurred at Sentia.
1409) How much importance would you attach to a career lighting smudge pots to keep frost off fruit trees?
a) A great deal of importance.
b) Some importance.
c) Very little importance.
d) Don’t know.
It was the last question. Jax’s pencil was down to the nub, and so was his patience. He rushed to the office to hand in his work and find out what was next. Surely something was going to start to make sense around here.
Ms. Samuels favored him with a heart-stopping smile. “Thanks, Jax. We really appreciate all your efforts on this.” She disappeared into a supply closet and came out with a fresh armload of pages. “Now you just have to complete part two, and you’re on your way.”
Jax said one word: “No.”
She frowned. “It’s required. Dr. Mako says —”
“I
’ve been here a week already, and Dr. Mako hasn’t said anything to me so far. For all I know, Dr. Mako doesn’t even exist, and you Photoshopped him into all those pictures. I quit! I double quit!”
It was a little hard to turn on his heel, because he couldn’t take his eyes off her. But it was worth it.
“Dr. Mako hasn’t interviewed you yet,” she protested as he headed for the elevator.
“That’s why I quit!”
As he left the building and headed for the subway, he felt fifty pounds lighter. It bothered him a little that now he was never going to know what they were really doing at that dumb institute. But he was pretty confident that, whatever it was, he was better off without it. If he was losing his mind, he’d find out soon enough. He didn’t think so, though. Quitting was the sanest thing he’d ever done.
Tonight he was planning to give his parents an earful. They’d be disappointed to find out that their only son wasn’t special anymore, and probably never had been. He wasn’t even sure how he was going to describe it to them — the place was either really crazy, or really stupid. The jury was still out.
Back at his building, he waved to the doorman and took the elevator up to seven, grim with purpose. Maybe Mom and Dad wouldn’t entirely believe him, but they were going to have to accept his decision. Even without all the weirdness, he had better things to do with his time than fill in ovals with a number 2 pencil.
As he opened the door of apartment 7J, he was already planning counterarguments for when they tried to convince him to go back.
He could hear his mother on the phone in the kitchen. “Well, it’s been a pleasure talking to you. It means a lot that you phoned personally…. Yes, we feel the same way…. Thank you so much. See you tomorrow.”
Jax tossed his backpack in the corner. “Who was on the phone?”
“That was Dr. Mako.”
Jax was floored. “No way!”
“I know!” she gushed, blushing like a fangirl. “What an extraordinary man!”
“Are you kidding me? The guy never even shows up at his own institute! He’s probably just some actor they hire to pose for pictures. The only reason they got him to call you is because I quit today!”
She looked annoyed. “You know, I really don’t understand your sense of humor. Dr. Mako couldn’t say enough about the quality of the work you’re doing.”
“That’s because he doesn’t know!” Jax protested. “I’ve been doing nothing all week!”
“Well, everybody starts at the bottom,” she reasoned. “But Sentia is expecting big things from you. Dr. Mako made a point of telling me that.”
“I don’t believe it,” Jax said flatly.
“Well, he’ll be able to tell you himself. We have a meeting with him — you, me, and your father — tomorrow at four thirty.”
Jax toyed with the idea of refusing to go. But his curiosity got the best of him. He had to see with his own eyes if the man, the myth, the legend really existed.
Maureen Samuels made no mention of the unpleasantness that had taken place yesterday when Jax had stormed out of the institute. She seated the Opus family in a plush outer office.
“Dr. Mako is so thrilled that you took the time to come in and meet with him,” she assured them. “He’s just finishing up another appointment. He’ll be right with you.”
Jax felt some small satisfaction to note that his father was just as blown away by the assistant director as he was. Pop divas, superstar actresses, and multimillionaire socialites passed through his Bentley dealership, but Ms. Samuels was in a class by herself.
Mrs. Opus was fascinated by the many pictures that decorated the walls. “There he is with the president of Burundi. And isn’t that Justin Bieber? And the Dalai Lama — with Bob Dylan! This is so exciting!”
A few minutes later, the door to the inner sanctum opened, and out stepped the great man himself. Dr. Elias Mako was taller than he looked in the pictures, and a lot more imposing. His heavy brows acted as a frame for black, piercing eyes, and his shock of dark wavy hair was accented by twin silver wings at the temples. He was escorting another well-dressed man, someone Jax found vaguely familiar.
Mrs. Opus squeezed her husband’s arm. “Ashton, it’s Senator Douglas!”
“Who’s Senator Douglas?” Jax whispered.
His father looked annoyed. “Trey Douglas is the leading candidate in the race for the Democratic nomination for president! If you and Tommy would get your heads out of your Xboxes once in a while, you’d recognize him.”
“Ah, the Opuses at last.” Dr. Mako stepped forward and shook their hands, smiling with blindingly white teeth. “May I present Senator Trey Douglas, a major supporter of the Sentia Institute. Trey, Jackson Opus is my up-and-comer around here. Remember that name.”
Senator Douglas pumped Jax’s hand with a firm politician’s grip. “You’re a lucky young man to have Dr. Mako in your corner. He’s devoted his life to New York City education and is an inspiration to every single one of us.”
“Don’t I know it,” Jax managed. That song was getting very old in his ears.
The senator took his leave, and Dr. Mako ushered the Opuses into his office. The director made a point of gazing intently into Jax’s eyes. Jax was aware of an unfamiliar sensation, like swallowing water down the wrong pipe — yet this wasn’t in his throat, more in his head. He stared back into the near-black irises, and the feeling of invasion vanished.
“Yes, I see it, too.” Dr. Mako seemed pleased.
“See what?” Jax challenged.
The director didn’t answer right away. He made a great show of settling his long frame into the padded black leather chair behind his desk.
“What I’m about to tell you may be a little hard to process. So it’s best that I just say it outright, without beating around the bush.”
They regarded him expectantly.
“What we do here at Sentia is … hypnotism.”
“Hypnotism?” Mrs. Opus sat forward. “You mean like getting somebody to quit smoking? Or overcome a fear of flying?”
Mako shook his head. “That is a kind of therapy a psychiatrist might use, but it’s not true hypnotism. What we study at Sentia is an innate ability to penetrate and influence people’s minds. I myself happen to have a certain amount of ability in this area, but nothing compared to the kind of gift your son appears to be wielding.”
Jax’s mouth fell open. “Me? I’ve never hypnotized anybody! I’ve never even tried to!”
The director smiled knowingly. “Ah, but you have — and without even realizing it. Have you ever looked into someone’s eyes and suddenly experienced the phenomenon that you are actually seeing yourself from the perspective of another?”
Jax was shocked. “How could you know that?”
“What this means is that you have begun to hypnotize this person. A mesmeric link is forming between the two of you, and you are in your subject’s mind, seeing what he or she sees.”
Jax was speechless. He had come here with the intention of exposing the institute as a fraud. And in less than a minute, not only had the director proved him wrong, but he had also explained the unexplainable — the bizarre visions that had almost convinced Jax he was losing his marbles. The championship basketball game — had Steadman flubbed those foul shots because Jax was standing there whispering, Miss? How many other weird experiences could be understood that way? What had he said in Dr. Gundenberg’s office? Better still, you jump out the window. Or at the vaudeville show: You try the chicken routine and see how you like it! At the time, he’d thought the shrink and Ramolo had gone completely crazy. But in reality, they had followed his instructions to the letter. They’d been hypnotized!
“The Amazing Ramolo —” he breathed. “Does he … work here?”
Dr. Mako smiled tolerantly. “Alas, our Ray can’t bring himself to part with his little career on the stage. I don’t necessarily approve, but I can’t really complain. After all, he was the one who told me about you.”
Mrs. Opus had been glowing all day over the prospect of this meeting. She was not glowing any longer. “So you’re saying our son has … supernatural powers?”
“That depends how you define the word natural,” Mako said reassuringly. “There is much about the human mind that we can’t demonstrate scientifically. That doesn’t make it magic, or paranormal. It’s just something we haven’t figured out yet. That’s the research Sentia has taken on. We’ve already learned a great deal about how hypnotism works. We know, for example, that the use of a pendant or trinket for mesmeric purposes is a myth.”
“Ramolo does it,” Jax pointed out.
The director dismissed this with a wave. “Showmanship. The true delivery system is the eyes. To understand this, you have to look no farther than a mirror. Furthermore, it is untrue that only willing subjects can be hypnotized. Some can be mesmerized more easily than others, but everyone is subject to the power — even mind-benders themselves. There’s no way to predict who will have the gift. But we’ve seen that it often runs in families —”
Mr. Opus had been quiet up until this point, but now he began to moan despairingly. “I knew it! It’s my fault! It’s all my fault!”
His wife and son stared at him.
“Dad?” Jax ventured nervously.
“I had no business getting married!” Ashton Opus lamented. “I should never have had a child!”
“Ashton, what are you talking about?” his wife half whispered. “You’re not a mind-bender; you’re a car salesman!”
“Not me!” her husband choked. “My family! The stories go back for centuries! The whole Massachusetts branch of the Opuses was burned at the stake during the Salem witch trials!”
Mako nodded. “Yes, that came up in our research. Nasty piece of business. The temptation to use hypnotic power for personal gain can be hard to resist, especially in a frozen colony during a long New England winter. I’m sure you also know about Bertrand Opus, who mesmerized Napoleon into key military blunders at the Battle of Waterloo. And of course you’ve probably heard of Harriet Opus-Berman.”
The Hypnotists Page 4
