**
The parking lot was practically deserted. Night was starting to paint the sky black and when he looked up, Hugo could see the first stars flickering into view. The air was colder and crisp, a strong breeze pushing at the trees lining the parking lot. Not much further now. He just had to figure out how to get into the building.
Clem stepped out of the car with him, so he glanced at him curiously, “I said you didn’t have to come. In fact I really don’t think you should.”
“Who are you going to speak too?” Clem’s voice was very calm, almost flat; could he possibly be nervous? Did the jazz guitarist get nervous?
Hugo shrugged. He really didn’t need this right now. “Someone who used to work at Gideon Enterprises. But now they’re here.”
“Ok. I’m coming with you.”
Hugo shrugged again. Well, that was the end of that. He wouldn’t be able to convince Clem not to, he just hoped at this point Hermes did want to be found and they wouldn’t have a problem.
Now, about getting in. A distraction would be a good start, and then he could look for a window towards the back of the building where the basement rooms would be. Hugo walked towards the large glass doors into the hospital lobby. He vacuumed the room from the outside. The few people, including one security guard that was talking to the night receptionist, passed out. Very soon afterwards several more security guards poured into the main lobby. That should keep them busy for a while. They’d probably figure it was a gas leak, and if he was lucky, evacuate the building. Hugo started walking towards the back, Clem in tow. Clem was surprisingly quiet about what he’d just done. Good. He didn’t want to have to explain that he hadn’t really hurt anyone. He didn’t have time.
You’re assaulting the facility.
Hugo stopped as they approached the back of the building, glancing around. Had he thought that? It seemed foreign but there was no voice and Clem wasn’t looking around with him, so he hadn’t heard it also.
It’s called telepathy. There was a hint of amusement this time. Hugo couldn’t figure out how it was conveyed without intonation, but it was like in a dream where you just know something, even if there is no evidence to support the how or why.
William Hansen?
Correct. Who are you?
My name’s Hugo, sir.
And why are you here, Hugo?
I wanted to talk to you.
There was a pause, so Hugo kept walking towards the back of the building.
Suddenly there was an intense feeling of surprise and a flicker of that suspicion he’d heard at Maggie’s place. Me? Why?
I came across your file at Gideon Enterprises. I figured out you were still alive, so I wanted to talk to you. I’m using this approach because I found out that your nurse is rather aggressive about acquiring new patients.
And how did you find me?
Maggie. Why did you yell at her?
A deep hatred swelled. I thought she was Octavia.
Oh, ok, that makes sense. So, can I come see you?
The suspicion was gone, now there was amusement and excitement like embers rising from a fire. Yes, but you’ll need a bigger distraction. Head to the window on the southeast corner of this building. I hope you’re small enough to get through.
“Hugo, what are you doing?” That was Clem.
Hugo jerked to a halt again; the sudden change to speech a little jarring. “I’m going to go meet him. I don’t think you can fit through the window. Go back to the car.”
Clem looked around, trying to get advice from the growing darkness. His expression suggested he didn’t find what he was looking for. “I’m going to go back to the car.” There was more to the flat, matter-of-fact tone in his voice. He was probably going to call Christian, but they were four hours out of the way and he’d have plenty of time to talk to Hermes, so it didn’t matter. Clem didn’t move, so Hugo did.
The window was locked, so Hugo scavenged for a rock and broke it. Clearing away the glass before he wriggled his way inside, he landed heavily on a table, knocking several files off it. He was interested in reading them until he realized he was in a room full of lab animals and they were all yelling excitedly at him. Mostly monkeys. 12 of them. Hugo smiled.
Let out the monkeys, they’ll be our distraction.
(Nonono don’t do it this guy was held here against his will, what if he’s still crazy and these monkey’s will hurt people please don’t-) this was the only way to see Mr. Hansen’s brother, and Octavia was a bitch for holding him. She deserved to get hurt a little. Hugo found the keys in a drawer and unlocked the cages. The monkeys picked up various bludgeoning objects. It was really too late now. He just had to go see Mr. Hansen’s brother and make all of this worth it.
Down the stairs to the left. The passcode is 4724.
Hugo obeyed, continuing down the brightly lit hallways. It seemed a little odd sneaking around in such well-lit surroundings, but he didn’t see anyone even though he could hear the monkeys’ high-pitched yelling in the distance. He would have never been able to find his way on his own, especially not without the distraction; Octavia would have found him and that would have been the end of it.
I don’t get it. I’ve read your file, I know what you can do, William. How is she keeping you here?
The anger was hot and intense, Hugo could feel it, and he could understand it. He shared it. She’s testing a medication on us that dampens powers. Telepathy is the only thing I can still use.
Us?
There are 20 others she’s been keeping here as her lab rats. Hugo hadn’t thought it possible to spit out a thought in disgust, but there was no other way to describe the way William talked about Octavia. Telepathy was really interesting. Yes telepathy is convenient. It’s been the only thing keeping us sane.
How long have you been here?
I think two years now.
Hugo unconsciously glanced at the ceiling as he consulted the timeline in his head. Oh, so shortly after your death.
Right. There was almost an iciness to the word.
Hugo frowned, his heart dropping. Are you mad at your brother?
Turn right down here, two lefts. The passcode is 9516.
Hugo obeyed.
My brother thought I was the boogieman. The emotion behind it was a murky mess that made Hugo’s heart ache in sympathy.
Would you ever be willing to speak to him again?
Perhaps, if he could understand I only want what’s best for the world.
And what’s best for the world? Hugo entered the passcode and stepped into a dimly lit room. Lying on a bed in the sparse surroundings was William Hansen. He looked pale, but much healthier than Charon had. Hugo walked towards the bed.
For everyone to work together.
Hugo hesitated. How so?
When people are having trouble reaching a consensus, I would unite them so that all views could be shared and a decision could be made.
Hugo tensed. No. This wasn’t what he wanted to hear. This was exactly like the file. Maybe he could convince the man this wasn’t the best thing. Hermes felt so hopeful when he projected now. This was what he really believed. And what if not everyone wants to see eye to eye? Conflict breeds creativity, both artistic and scientific.
Well, of course the dissenters would have to be dealt with. But eventually everyone would see that this method was for the good of all.
You would kill anyone who didn’t agree with you? Anyone who resisted?
It would be unfortunate, but if necessary, yes. It really would be unfortunate. He would do it with a heavy heart, but that was the price of a perfect world. I see you don’t agree with me entirely. I feel I’m not explaining myself well enough. Oh god. He’d let out the monkeys. They would free Hermes and then he would alter the world. Slowly eroding free will, turning the world into a static, homogenous place and it was all Hugo’s fault. Octavia had been containing him, but soon the monkeys would come down here and kill him and set Hermes free. He was alone. He had to d
o something about it. Soon it would be too late. He could hear screeching through the open door and everything was falling apart he needed to do something it had to be now there was no other choice Hugo vacuumed the room. And as he held it, faintly with the sharp spikes of resentment and fear: murderer
I know.
The thoughts stopped, there was no breathing, Hugo kept counting, 10 one thousand, 11 one thousand, 12 one thousand… he held it until he couldn’t anymore and the air came rushing back from the corners of the room, shaking the bed. The machines Hermes was hooked up to wailed blindly, their charge was gone. But what if he was faking it? What if William came back to life and killed him and destroyed the world? He had to make sure he didn’t. Hugo approached the bed, ran his hand along the IV where the drug was dripping into his arm. He released the valve further and the clear liquid flowed downwards, heavy with gravity.
The room became really bright and crackling, then stepping from the wall was a mass of electricity. It resolved into CJ, she looked frantic and windblown.
“I’m sorry! I let Mr. Hansen read your letter because you were being stupid! And holy crap we found out what you were doing and I made Maggie tell me where you were and are you ok? There are monkey’s everywhere! I zapped 10 of them-”
They were Hermes’ monkeys. What if he could transfer his consciousness into them? Then he could still get out and destroy the world, “There are two left, find them and take care of them.”
CJ took a quick, small step backwards, her mouth falling open, probably at his sharp tone, but instead of responding she flared into lightning again and leapt towards the ceiling. She could handle it. Although it was a little weird that CJ had shown up so soon. She would have made a much less lethal distraction than the monkeys. Hugo hadn’t needed to worry about Hermes at all, because he’d killed him. The fluid from the IV was oozing out of the needle, little rivulets running down the crook of William’s arm. His blood was not circulating; the drug was not going anywhere. Mr. Hansen’s brother was dead. And he had done it. The murderer.
“Are you all right?”
Hugo turned to find Christian staring at him with an expression that made no sense. This was even more peculiar because Hugo had really thought he was alone, but now all these people were showing up, and he could just imagine the halls littered with human and monkey corpses, the stench rising and filling the hallways while he stared at a dead man in his bed.
Something happened then. All the things he wanted to say didn’t come out of his mouth; instead a foreign phrase was heard in the stillness, “Should I be?” It came from him, but he hadn’t said it.
Christian wasn’t pleased with the answer. Everything moved so slowly now. “Go outside.” The words sounded muffled and distant even though the man was so close. It was peculiar. Oh and his body was moving. Wandering through hallways, past smears of blood and caved in heads, the pungent odor of burnt hair invading everything. There were people around now, kneeling down to people who were still twitching, hanging on to what little life they still possessed. He’d let out the monkeys. His body took him outside. The night was icy, the stars piercing lights that were so far away. He passed Clem looking on through the double doors at the carnage, eyes wide and unblinking. He was upset. Look at all that Hugo had done. His body was outside, so it stopped moving. He personally would have liked to move out of the way of people coming in and out of the building, but nobody was listening to him. And why should they? He was stupid. He had seen this coming, but the rest of him, so stubborn, so obsessed with talking to a crazy man had ignored him. And was ignoring him now. Fine. Oh god he’d just killed Mr. Hansen’s brother and now everyone was going to know. He’d been alone! He hadn’t know what else to do. He had to do something, anything, and he’d immediately resorted to murder. Because he murdered people. Oh shut up, you did the right thing. He was going to turn everyone into mindless drones. You messed up, and for once you fixed your own mess. Not that it should be abnormal, you usually just fuck everything up.
Oh, he was in a van, when had that happened? He was surrounded by people, all quiet and stone-faced. Christian was there, but Clem and CJ were not. Probably didn’t want to ride with him. These people didn’t want to ride with him either, but they were professionals.
And then the doctor was talking to him, coaxing his body into a room to sit down. Her words were soft and coming from a great height. “Hugo…” she took a slow breath and waited until his gaze turned to her, “Ok, I know you were trying to keep what you were doing a secret, even from CJ, but please, just tell me what happened.”
He didn’t want to talk about it, he wanted everything to just go away, but his mouth was opening anyway, “It’s not that I didn’t want anyone to know,” the sound was distant and empty, even to him; this was so much worse than regurgitating something he’d seen, but he just kept talking, “It was to minimize risk. I was going to see William Hansen, and he can alter thoughts. He altered his brother’s thoughts, and trying to change that gave him an aneurism. I was just trying to avoid that happening to anyone else before I assessed the situation.”
Time moved forward in silence until Dr. McFadden broke it with her voice again, “Alright….I can understand that, but how did you find him if everyone thought he was dead?”
“I guessed he wasn’t dead because of his ability and the information in the files. And then I saw it. And then Maggie saw him,” his tone was foreign, a separate thing from who he thought he was. He wanted to cry, but all that came out was that droning sound, “I wanted to talk to him to see if he’d come back and talk to Mr. Hansen.”
The doctor’s hand moved from her lap, but she stopped before touching his. She went back to bunching up the fabric of her skirt, “I know you wanted to minimize the risk to others, but what did you do to protect yourself?”
“I left a note and instructions with CJ in case anything happened to me. It was supposed to be fine…” His vision blurred as his eyes stopped focusing on the woman right in front of him without turning his head. He blinked several times to clear his vision. The doctor’s questions were good, it was best to examine the event objectively; this is what needed to be done. “I left instructions with CJ.”
“What did you find once you got there?” Dr. McFadden asked softly.
Hugo reviewed his memories of the night to ensure maximum accuracy, “The situation did not meet my expectations. If I had reevaluated my assessment after learning the possible outcome of my actions from CJ, my expectations would have been more in line with the situation.” His face shifted for a moment into a balance of surprise and confusion, “But even before then, my evaluation of the situation was tenuous at best; many of my conclusions were based on circumstantial evidence. Upon reflection, I’m not sure why I ever considered that a wise course of action at all.”
The doctor’s hands tightened into fists in her lap, he was not sure why. Unless she’d had a stake in the night’s events, his erroneous conclusions did not affect her. She took a deep breath, “What was the actual situation then?”
“Octavia Preller was not helping William Hansen as I had assumed, but holding him.”
The doctor frowned, “I take it Octavia was a nurse at the hospital in Vancouver, correct?”
“Yes,” he confirmed.
“What else did you find out?” The doctor asked, a note of hesitation in her voice.
“That William Hansen was trying to save the world.” A visible shiver worked its way through the doctor’s body. He waited until she was attentive again before continuing to speak, “And that I shouldn’t have let out the monkeys. I had tried to tell myself I shouldn’t, but I did it anyway.” His mouth felt dry and gummy. Water was probably the best solution, but he couldn’t seem to make his limbs move to perform the required actions.
There was a long pause before the doctor spoke again, “Do you believe you were in control of your actions after you started speaking to William?”
“Oh yes,” Hugo responded, “Telepathy was t
he only thing William could use. He said so,” he paused for a moment; could you gauge sincerity with telepathy? Could you manipulate your own thoughts enough to lie in your own mind? “Although, I suppose he could have been lying.”
“That’s possible,” there was a note of hope in the doctor’s voice, and for a moment Hugo didn’t understand why.
Ah, she was trying to place the blame for his actions on the antagonist of the situation. He needed to clarify, “But the encounter did not end well for him, since he didn’t stop me from killing him, so it seems unlikely.”
The doctor didn’t breathe for three seconds. Hugo waited. Her voice shook a little when she finally continued the conversation, “Why did you do that?”
Had she not been listening? Perhaps he had not made the course of events clear enough. Dr. McFadden chewed on her lower lip. Oh, she wanted motive, “Because he told me what he wanted to do. He was going to unite people’s minds so that they could come to a global consensus during ideological conflicts. However, if you do that repeatedly, weeding out dissenters, you eventually reach a homogonous state, crippling scientific and artistic creativity, and therefore, stunt the growth of Humanity, possibly to the point of eventual extinction.” For some reason his thoughts returned to the revelation that he no longer understood the logic behind his actions. How could he have been so wrong about William? How could he have been so blind? “And there was no way to make him understand that.”
The doctor sat there quietly, and then her eyes drifted to look at her own hands, “Do you feel you did the right thing?” She looked back at him, face bent into the shapes that indicated concern.
“No,” Hugo spoke quickly, “I made the wrong decisions; I didn’t pay enough attention to the evidence of the situation presented to me.” His words were starting to sound raspy and dry, “He was contained before I went to see him. And I let him loose. I tried to remedy the situation to the best of my ability, but I was wrong from the beginning.”
Dr. McFadden stood up to dispense water from the small cooler in her office into a paper cup. She held it out to him, but even though he knew it was a good idea, his limbs refused to accept it. The doctor moved her chair to sit next to him, placing her hand over his own to bend his stiff fingers into the correct shape to hold the cup. He stared down at the flat plane of water. She gently pushed against the bottom of the cup, forcing his arm to move it closer to his mouth. His body seemed to pick up on the concept at that point, and he took it from there. The water was cold.
The doctor took the cup from him when he was finished, setting it on her desk. She searched his face for something, and then took a deep breath, “You didn’t have any way of knowing what was going to happen.”
He was surprised by a sudden sensation, equivocal to a hot stone in his gut; he was irritated? “Oh, any idiot could have reasoned it out,” he spat. He was so stupid, how had he made such a mess? He’d murdered - he’d been wrong; why hadn’t he listened to himself? He was so stupid, so terrible - no. He’d had his chance to protest, but he had not, and now was the time to deal with the consequences. His voice leveled out again, “if they’d been paying attention. But I wasn’t, because I wanted to talk to him.”
“You wanted to help Mr. Hansen right?” The doctor prompted, as if it were an encouragement, as if the entire thing might be an altruistic mistake. She was wrong.
“Yes, but I was hardly being selfless, I also wanted to show Mr. Hansen that I was right.”
“Right about what?” She frowned, “That his brother wasn’t dead?”
“Yes.”
For a moment Dr. McFadden chewed on her lip, and then took a deep breath, “Now, I want you to listen to me very carefully, ok?”
He considered her request while another part of him wanted to scream. “I might not absorb everything, I’m not all here right now so to speak, but I will do my best.”
The woman smiled a little at that, but then the frown returned. “Ok, I know what happened was very unfortunate, and that you’ve probably never experienced something like that before, but, now this is important,” she looked him directly in the eye, “I would rather we all have our own free will, and in the end, we are safe now.” She took a deep breath, “You don’t have to deal with this alone, Hugo, I will help you. I won’t let anything happen to you because of this.”
He stared back at her, brow furrowing, “And why shouldn’t anything happen to me?”
Her eyes were a dark blue color and her mouth was drawn in a line, “Because,” Dr. McFadden shook her head, “because you hadn’t intended to hurt anyone.”
Hugo tilted his head, “But I did. I killed him. Shouldn’t I be punished for that?”
The doctor pursed her lips, she looked like she might cry soon. “I don’t think right now is the best time to discuss that.”
His frown deepened as if he were curious, but he didn’t feel curious, he knew the answer, but he was asking the question anyway, “Why?”
“Because,” it looked like the doctor was fishing for her words, “like you said, you’re not thinking clearly right now.”
“Oh, I am,” he corrected, “It’s just not all in the same place.”
Dr. McFadden looked confused, “That means you aren’t thinking clearly,” her brow creased in frustration, “In order to think clearly, you need to be all in the same place.”
“I think I’m rarely in the same place anymore,” he examined his hands, tracing the lines in his palms for no discernible reason, “so perhaps I’m never thinking clearly.”
“I think you just need some time.” The doctor looked away from him and then reached for her coat, which had been piled on her desk, “A lot’s happened tonight, and I think you need some rest.”
“I’m not tired,” he watched her but didn’t move beyond that.
“You need to rest,” she walked over and stood in front of him, “You’re still running on adrenaline.”
“I’m not tired,” he repeated unnecessarily, his tone hollow.
“I know that,” the doctor looked around the small office then looked back at him, “But come on, let’s just take a walk, ok?”
He looked up at her, and even though he was more interested in lying down at the moment, or even just sitting in the chair forever, he surprisingly didn’t resist when she carefully pulled him to his feet, “I don’t think that’s necessary.”
“I think you need some fresh air,” the doctor said softly.
His legs felt heavy and he wondered if he’d even be able to walk, “I like air.”
Dr. McFadden took his hand and he a little surprised to find that movement didn’t require as much effort as he’d suspected it would. No one really looked at them as they passed. He wondered where CJ had gone, or if Clem was alright, but all he saw was a dented trashcan on their way out.
The sky was smeared pink and the grass was damp. The wind was whispering as it brushed past him, pushing his hair in his eyes as it parted the fog in his brain. He had done something terrible. He’d thought he was doing the right thing, but he’d been so obsessed with talking to Mr. Hansen’s brother that he hadn’t paid attention to the signs he’d been given that nothing had changed, that the file was correct, that the only reason Hermes hadn’t damned the world was because he’d been robbed of the power to. He’d let the monkeys out when part of him knew he shouldn’t have, and then it was too late. He’d made a huge mistake. He was used to making mistakes, but never with these consequences. He couldn’t do this. He wanted to go home, crawl under his bed and never come back out. He deserved worse.
He needed to apologize to Mr. Hansen.
Hugo sat up, blinking. He was on a couch in an apartment that wasn’t his. The lights were off. How had he gotten there? He glanced around at the hulking shadows, one of which was clearly a piano. Now he remembered, this was Dr. McFadden’s apartment. She’d led him inside and sat him down on the couch. He had seen William Hansen’s second funeral at that moment, and unfortunately he’d remarked on how o
dd he thought it was that he’d been invited to it. She’d been confused, but instead of questioning him, she’d coaxed him into lying down. She’d argued that he needed to sleep, he’d been up for many hours, and he’d observed the darkness under her eyes that implied so had she. He’d kept her up, but now she was asleep and he needed to apologize to Mr. Hansen.
Hugo pulled the quilted blanket from his legs, then carefully folded it and draped it over one of the arms of the couch. On his way out the door he almost bumped into a coffee table with a few coins and a couple metal picture frames; the pictures were only shadows in the darkness. He didn’t want to leave her door unlocked, but he thought waking her a greater inconvenience to her, so he gently shut the door and headed back outside to the blue sky and the wind.
He walked back to the office. It was quiet down the near deserted hallways of Gideon Enterprises. Nancy wasn’t at her desk. Hugo checked his cell phone, it was 7 am, so she wouldn’t be in the office for another two hours. He sat down in a chair outside of the office, laced his hands in his lap, and waited. He needed to apologize to Mr. Hansen.
Ten minutes later, CJ shuffled up to him and slid into the chair next to him. She was staring at him; it didn’t look like she’d slept either. “What are you doing?”
“Waiting for Mr. Hansen. I need to apologize.” He was really tired. His eyelids felt heavy, everything felt heavy.
“Ok. I’ll wait with you,” Her tone was casual, but neutral; so unlike her. CJ wiggled into a more comfortable position in the chair, and joined his examination of the wall.
Four minutes after nine, Nancy eventually eclipsed his view, her dark eyes an expressive mixture of pity and sorrow, “What are you guys doing here?” She asked quietly, setting her purse down at her desk.
“I need to apologize to Mr. Hansen.”
Nancy took a step towards them, then stopped, shaking her head. “He won’t be coming in today.”
“I’ll wait.”
Nancy opened her mouth, then thought better of whatever she’d been planning to have come out of it and went to her desk. She turned on her computer and the tower’s hum covered the silence. She wasted no time in clicking several keys in rapid succession, and then six minutes later two doctors came to visit. They led Hugo away from the waiting room because they wanted to talk to him about what happened, and he could see Mr. Hansen later. They took him to a side room and at their request he let the words pour out. This was a test to see if his reaction was Hermes’ doing or not. He was damaged, but it wasn’t anyone’s fault but his own. Eventually they were satisfied, so they sedated him and led him to a bed. He slept and dreamed.
The Sound of Wind Page 45
