by Dima Zales
Thinking of Mira instantly reminds me that I should stop whatever this is, so I say, “I get the idea.”
I open my eyes and clear my throat. Trusting my voice again, I try to turn this from an intimate situation to an inquisitive opportunity by asking, “How does something like that even work?”
“Music can make us feel all sorts of things.” Victoria puts the flute down and walks up to me. “This is not the finished project, but only the start. My inspiration is the male birds that can evoke an orgasm in the minds of the female birds through their songs.”
I take a nervous step backward. “It’s truly impressive.”
“Yes.” She takes a predatory step forward, so the distance between us remains the same. “I see how impressed you are.”
Her eyes fall to my crotch.
“If you’re trying to seduce me—”
Her gaze returns to my face. “I don’t try,” she says softly. “I succeed.”
“That’s just an involuntary—”
“Hush.” She moves closer and puts a finger on my lips. “Just think. If I can do that with mere music, can you even imagine what I can do with my—”
“Seriously, we can’t. I can’t.” I take five panicky steps back. My back is almost through the doorway.
“You most certainly can.” She gives me a carnivorous smile.
“I have someone,” I say, again trying to fight off her seduction. “It wouldn’t be right.”
“Come now. We’re in the Mind Dimension. It’s all within the mind. This experience would be no different than having a fantasy. You know you’ll have fantasies about me anyway.”
She’s right. I will have fantasies about this later, or nightmares—time will tell. Though not all of my blood is in my brain, I begin piecing together clues as to her agenda. She must’ve decided to help the Elders’ cause by seducing me. She must think that sex with her will be so amazing, so addictive, that I’ll say yes to anything to do it again.
It’s disturbing, but it does seem to remove her from my list of Super Pusher suspects. I don’t think that person would want to fuck me so literally.
“How about I show you a dance I’ve developed?” she says and takes off her shawl.
“Victoria,” I say, trying to keep my voice firm. “Thank you for the tour, but I’d like to see the rest of the Castle on my own.”
“Are you sure?” She moves her body in a way that makes her flute-playing, and every porn I’ve ever seen, look G-rated in comparison.
I don’t trust myself to stick around for a conversation. I rotate on the ball of my foot, and once I’m facing the door, I rush out, no longer worried about doing it with dignity.
Once outside, I take deep breaths, conjuring up thoughts of cold showers and baseball.
As I struggle to calm myself, I walk aimlessly through the Castle.
When I’m sure I’m not being followed, I enter a room.
It looks like a library—a huge library. The shelves seem to span for miles.
“Darren,” says a familiar voice. “What the hell are you doing here?”
It takes me a moment to fully understand whom I’m seeing.
It’s Bill, but everyone calls him William Pierce.
He’s also known as my boss.
Chapter 10
Once the gift of speech comes back to me, I say, “I think a better question is, what are you doing here?”
“I’m being vetted for an Ambassadorship.” Bill closes the book he was leafing through. “What about you?”
“I guess I am too. Only it’s complicated.”
He looks at me the way he always does at meetings when I reveal information slowly for drama. His body language is telling me, Get on with it already.
I look at him, wondering if this man I’ve known and respected for so long could be the Super Pusher. Could he be the person Mimir tried to warn me about? I find this very hard to believe. Firstly, if I am that bad at judging someone’s character, I might as well suspect every Guide close to me. Secondly, how could Mimir know Bill is here, which he would’ve had to know if Bill is the one he was warning me about? That logic points more toward the Elders—the only people rumored to be able to reach Level 2.
In the end, as much as I trust Bill, I decide to err on the side of caution and tell him only what the Super Pusher would already know, plus information that everyone on the Island will soon learn anyway. It should be relatively safe; if there’s one person who can keep a secret, it’s Bill.
So I proceed to tell him that the Elders want me to be the harbinger of peace between two groups whose blood I share. As I tell him all these things, his eyes get wider and wider, especially when I reveal my mixed heritage.
“You’re part Reader?” He stares at me. “But the rumors say it’s not possible.”
“Clearly the rumors are wrong.”
“I never gave it much thought. I mean, who would try to have a mixed-blood child? Not to mention how unlikely it is, statistically, for a Reader and a Guide to meet and fall in love. I haven’t met a single Reader in my life, so what’s the likelihood that the one I do meet turns out to be a woman and one I’d want to have a kid with, even if it wasn’t taboo, which it is?” With his one free hand, Bill rubs his temple as he often does during meetings at the fund.
“Yeah.” I walk up to the bookshelf and brush it with my fingers. It’s free of dust and impeccably polished, which makes it feel nice and smooth to the touch. “My story is a hard one for people to digest, that’s for sure. All things considered, you’re taking it surprisingly well.”
“I told you I thought you were one of the other guys, so this sort of confirms my initial gut feeling.” Done with his temple, Bill moves the large book he was holding from his left hand to his right.
“I still can’t believe you’d hire a Reader.” I eye the book he’s holding. I can only make out something about Statistical Analysis—classic Bill topic. “By the way, I usually just snoop around in the Mind Dimension to get you useful data for the fund. I only learned to Read recently, and I haven’t been back to work since.”
“Well, that’s about to change, I hope,” he says with a rare-for-Bill smile.
“Is it?” I try not to sound sly.
“Come now, Darren. That’s an amazingly useful skill. You know that when all of this blows over, I’ll want you to Read a few CEOs.”
“Sure.” I give him a wink. “If I make it into the office, we’ll discuss it.”
“At some point, we will discuss your absenteeism.” His eyes narrow. “And that of Bert’s.”
“I’m still amazed you haven’t fired me, or him.”
“He still does what I need remotely. With you, I think of it as a long-term investment. When you two do show up at the fund, my biggest concern is office morale. People’s feathers get ruffled when they see coworkers play hooky the way the two of you always do, but I solved that problem when I announced that you and Bert now work out of the newly established Brooklyn office.”
“We don’t have a Brooklyn office,” I say. “At least, we didn’t.”
“Exactly.” He places the book back on the shelf. “But your colleagues now think there is one. More importantly, they now think of that office as the ‘exile location’—the place where employees are sent when they constantly slack off.”
“Devious. Now stop changing the subject. Tell me why the Elders want you as an Ambassador.” I watch for his reaction to this question. In the unlikely event that he’s my suspect, he might give something away.
“It has to do with my connections. They’re taking the idea of ‘money makes the world go round’ a little too literally,” he says casually.
His answer isn’t suspicious. In fact, it makes a lot of sense. Even though I’m fuzzy about Ambassadors’ duties, the Elders can’t go wrong with choosing someone of Bill’s caliber. “Are you going to accept the position?” I ask.
“I’d rather not,” he says. “You know how busy I am.”
Bi
ll is famous for arriving at the fund before the earliest bird gets in, and staying well after the last person leaves.
“I do, but will they take no for an answer?”
“They will when I tell them that I have a much better candidate than myself.”
“You do?”
“Liz Johnson. You know her well.”
“My shrink as an Ambassador?” I ask, stunned. “Why?”
“Many powerful people visit her couch,” Bill explains. “Not to mention the simple fact that she’s the personification of the social butterfly and knows every single Guide in at least a fifty-mile radius from Manhattan.”
“I wonder what she’ll think of this development.” I also fleetingly wonder if she could be the Super Pusher? That’s the most frightening thought. If she were, my enemy would know me better than even my friends and family. As soon as the thought comes to me, I dismiss it. I know her Guiding ‘tone of voice,’ and it’s not the same as that of the Super Pusher in the cops’ heads at the funeral.
“She’ll be thrilled, I’m sure.” His lips quirk wryly.
“What do Ambassadors actually do?” I ask. “I wasn’t clear on this.”
“I haven’t been officially told as of yet, but given who the previous New York Ambassador was, I can guess. Ambassadors look out for Guides’ interests. They influence regular people, the Unencumbered, to follow the general direction decided on at this island. Politics, economy, science—I suspect they have a hand in everything that matters in the world.”
“And there’s one in every city?”
He shakes his head. “There’s usually one in strategic locations. New York has had one for a while. After he died, George looked after things from New Jersey, but with the Washington Ambassador retiring, I think George will be sent there, so someone will need to handle affairs in New York.”
“You’re very well informed for someone who doesn’t yet have an official job offer,” I say, not surprised. Bill always had a way of knowing things; Bert and I are just one of his many means of acquiring information.
“So why are you here?” Bill asks. As usual, he doesn’t take the bait to reveal how he knows things he shouldn’t. “You only told me what the Elders want from you, not the reverse.”
“If I tell you, will you be obligated to tell the Elders?” I shift my weight from foot to foot.
“Certainly not.”
“Would you be offended if I don’t tell you why I came? It’s not that I don’t trust you . . .”
He shrugs. “Do what you want. I was only trying to help.”
I make a quick decision to tell him at least one part of what I need. After all, the Super Pusher is aware of my Level 2 capabilities, so that topic is safe to broach. “I want to learn how to Split once I’m already in the Mind Dimension.”
“You want to learn what?” he asks, frowning.
I proceed to explain the concept of Level 2, and a look of recognition soon replaces the confusion on his face.
“Why that of all things?” he asks. “I’m not sure it can even be learned. In fact, sometimes I wonder if the whole idea isn’t just a convenient rumor to make everyone respect the Elders that much more.”
“It’s not a rumor. It’s a fact.” I try not to feel smug; I’m rarely better informed than Bill. “How else would you explain someone pulling me into this ‘rumored’ realm right before I came here?”
Bill looks stunned but recovers quickly. “So you’re telling me all this mumbo jumbo about Nirvana is true?”
I must be looking at him as if he has two heads, because he explains, “Nirvana is what the rumors call that place, if it can even be called a place.”
“Nirvana,” I repeat. “It didn’t feel all that heavenly, but it sure beats saying, ‘The realm you go to when you Split while in the Mind Dimension.’ Hell, it’s better than my term, Level 2.”
Bill stares at me. “If those rumors are true, then only extraordinarily powerful Guides can reach it. From what I understand, the Reach required is—”
“Yep,” I say, this time unable to fight my smugness. “I have some very good genes, you see.”
Bill’s eyebrows draw together again. “This is very worrying. Tell me, is it true what the rumors say? That you can’t reach Nirvana while you’re in someone else’s Mind Dimension?”
“No Level 2—I mean, Nirvana—access from someone else’s Mind Dimension?” I repeat slowly, giving myself a chance to think. “No, I never heard of that. Why do you ask?”
“No reason,” he says, looking relieved.
“I know you, Bill. You never utter a word without a reason.”
“I just had a scary thought, that’s all.” He gives me a nervous smile. “In hindsight, it was silly.”
“Oh, don’t be like that,” I say, more teasingly than I’ve ever allowed myself to act around my boss.
“I was wondering whether the reason I’m not ready to fire you yet has nothing to do with my wishes, you see.” As he says this, he looks atypically insecure.
I try not to chuckle, finally understanding his earlier discomfort. “You think I might’ve gone to Nirvana and Guided you?”
“If we were in your Mind Dimension, it would’ve been a real concern,” he says. “Come, we both know you’re precisely the type of person who would do something like that if you could.”
His words don’t insult me, partly because he’s right. If I wanted to keep my job and if I had to Guide him to do so, I’d do it. The whole ‘No level 2 from someone’s Mind Dimension’ makes a strange kind of sense. Eugene told me that you use up the other person’s Depth when they pull you into the Quiet. Going into Level 2 when you’re using up someone else’s Reach sounds like an activity that can deplete that someone’s Reach very quickly, and perhaps our minds protect against it.
“Penny for your thoughts,” Bill says, peering at me. He still looks uncomfortable, as confirmed by him saying, “Maybe I should fire you, and also stay as far away from you as possible in light of all this.”
I can tell that he misunderstood my silence, and that he’s only half kidding.
“Doesn’t the fact that you can even consider firing me prove that I haven’t Guided you?” I ask.
“I don’t know,” Bill says. “Maybe I’m able to consider it because you can’t get to Nirvana right now. Maybe once you can, I’ll feel like you’re indispensable.”
“You’ll know for sure when you decide to give me a two-hundred-percent raise.” I give my voice a mockingly ominous tone.
Bill chuckles and then says, “Seriously, though, I’ve treated you well over the years. Promise me you wouldn’t use that shit on me, even if you could.”
“Of course, William,” I say, calling him by his full name to show that I truly do respect him.
He nods, looking satisfied. “And another thing. If this Nirvana stuff is true, that means the Elders might make me become an Ambassador. If that happens—”
“Say no more. If it turns out you’ve become one, I’ll look into it.”
“Thanks. You might get that raise after all.” He winks and then, with mock horror, says, “Wait a minute.”
We both laugh, but his laughter sounds strained. I haven’t seen Bill this stressed out since the last big oil-price plummet; the man loathes it when anything in the world is beyond his control.
“I think I’ll take a walk, if you don’t mind,” he says. “My advice to you is to have a heart-to-heart with whoever took you into Nirvana.”
“Do you know whose Mind Dimension this is?” I ask. “If the rumors you mentioned are true, it would be the same person.”
“No, I don’t, but I’ll let you know if I figure it out.”
“Okay, I’ll see you later,” I say.
After Bill leaves the room, I look over the books.
Sadly, I don’t locate a book titled How to Master Nirvana, at least not at a glance. Of course, if they kept stuff like that around, the Nirvana stuff wouldn’t be a rumor. Some of the topics the Elders do
write about are fascinating, though. I flip through a book filled with proofs and other pure mathematics written by Frederick. Next, I scan Alfred’s Detailed Analysis of the Second Iraq War. After that, I find that Gustav created a catalogue of every species of creatures that run, fly, swim, or crawl on this Island, complete with hand-drawn illustrations.
Locating a genealogy book, I leaf through it, searching for ‘Taylor,’ my mom’s family line. I’m absorbed in this task when I’m interrupted by a faint sound.
One moment I hear the rustling of clothing, and the next I’m having difficulty breathing.
The book falls from my hand to the floor.
I try to say, “What the hell,” but only a hoarse grunt comes out.
Someone grabbed me from behind, I realize, and they have my neck in a tight elbow lock. Their other hand is on the back of my head. Unbidden, a thought comes: I’m in a rear naked choke, which is a pretty deadly way of taking out an opponent. I probably have five seconds to react before I suffocate.
Given the circumstances, I don’t have to worry about dying, but I do have to worry about becoming Inert.
I suppress the fear and the pain, though it’s extremely difficult. My body doesn’t realize that the result of this attack won’t be truly fatal; it’s running through the motions of the fight-or-flight response. I try to calm myself and focus on the fight, and not the flight, part of what my body is so ready for. I have to react before I lose consciousness.
I grab at the arm around my neck.
My head might as well be in a steel vise.
I’m beginning to see a white haze.
My next move isn’t a conscious one. I’m only aware of what I’m doing as I begin doing it.
I grab the arm again, but this time, I suddenly squat.
My brain catches up with my body, and I swing the back of my hand to where I hope my attacker’s groin is. My hand hits something disgustingly soft, and a satisfying grunt sounds from behind me.
My attacker is definitely male.
The hold on my neck slackens enough for me to grab the hand holding me. I move a few inches to the right, bringing the arm along with me.
