Next, I showed them what I could do to the targets without the concrete blocks. I quickly shredded the paper targets with normal telekinetic blasts, and then moved on to cracking the plastic ones with a few well-placed focused shots through my right index finger. Of course, the heavy steel targets were left completely undamaged, but surely they didn’t expect me to break those. Deciding to show some initiative, I asked them to dim the lighting so that they could see the streaks of silvery light as I released my blasts in the dark.
“That is very impressive, Adrian,” I heard Dr. Otis say over the speaker as the lights came back on. “We’ve seen telekinesis here before, but nothing of your caliber. Can you fire while in the air?”
I had never tried that before, and I was getting tired. Still, it was a request by the head researcher. I lifted myself up about five feet off the floor and extended both arms toward a plastic target. As soon as I shot my energy at it, however, I lost my focus and fell back onto the hard, stone floor.
Alia came running up to me, and so did Dr. Otis and Dr. Kellogg from the Lab-C Control Room, dutifully followed by the guards.
“You could have just said it wasn’t possible,” said Dr. Otis.
“I didn’t know if I could do it,” I replied, holding Alia’s hand so she wouldn’t start panicking near the guards. Our control rods had extended the moment the doctors entered the Testing Room, and once again I couldn’t hear what Alia was saying.
I wasn’t hurt too badly, but it was already nearly noon so Dr. Otis ended the session.
After lunch, I was taken to a smaller laboratory to take various physical examinations, so Alia, tagging along, missed her nap. The doctors had a database containing all of my medical records from the day I was born so that they could compare them to my present condition. They drew my blood and took other samples, as well as checked my eyes and ears.
It was mostly routine stuff, but one test really scared me at first. The doctors called it an “electrocardiogram,” but I had no clue what that meant. A series of wires called “electrodes” were attached to me, all over my bare body, and you can imagine what I thought was about to happen next. Fortunately, the electrocardiogram was entirely painless, as were most of the other tests.
The only real problem was Alia. Watching my examination from the side, Alia was constantly on edge, and when she saw the fear in my eyes during my electrocardiogram, she completely lost it. It took forever to get her to stop crying, and that night she latched herself onto me so tightly that, as tired as I was, I found it difficult to fall asleep.
The next three days were no better. During the mornings and early afternoons, I was given more physical examinations. I was also interviewed at length about everything that had happened to me since I was in kindergarten. They asked me how I had initially trained my powers. They wanted to know every detail of my two confrontations with Ralph. I even told them about my run-in with the cycling graviton.
My main interviewer, a comparatively young doctor at the facility, was particularly interested in my account of how I seemed to have possessed a touch of uncontrolled telekinetic power for years before I became a full-blown psionic.
“How old were you when you used your power for the first time?” he asked.
“I honestly don’t know when it started,” I replied. “All my life, things around me sometimes just moved a bit. I always thought that was normal so I didn’t think about it. I never suspected that it was me.”
“That’s quite intriguing!” said the doctor, whose perky personality I instantly disliked. “Psionics usually gain their powers over a much shorter time. Anywhere from a few days to a few months at the very longest. Before that, they have nothing.”
The young doctor suggested that perhaps my telekinetic power had been simmering just below the surface of my consciousness for most of my life, and that my abrupt contact with a moving vehicle might have jolted my body into accepting the change. Only after I gained control over my power did it become strong enough for psionic finders to sense my presence from afar.
“Of course, that’s just an uneducated guess, Adrian,” he added with a chuckle. “We’ve never heard a story like yours before. This could be quite a mystery to solve! You might be the key to an amazing discovery!”
Irked by the doctor’s excitement, I said dryly, “What makes you think I care about your discoveries?”
The doctor frowned, and I instantly regretted my words. I had to be a good boy for Alia’s sake. For the rest of the interview, I kept my responses professional and my attitude to myself.
Once the doctors ran out of questions, it was back to Lab-C, where I showed them more aerobatics. Dr. Otis was not there on the second or third day, and Dr. Denman terrified Alia by constantly glaring at her during the sessions.
It must have been only about 5am the next day, but my eyes had opened, probably because Alia had her arms wrapped tightly around my neck and was slowly suffocating me like a boa constrictor.
I heard the intercom crackle, and Dr. Kellogg’s voice came on. “Good morning, Adrian. I see you’re up early.”
“Morning, Dr. Kellogg,” I croaked, looking up at the ceiling camera.
“Mind if I come in?”
“Alia’s still sleeping.”
“I know. I’ll try not to wake her.”
A few minutes later, the door slid open and Dr. Kellogg entered quietly.
He leaned his back against the wall, looking down at us and remarking in a slightly amused tone, “She really does cling to you, doesn’t she?”
“Quite literally,” I replied hoarsely, feeling Alia’s arms around my neck tighten even more. Alia was giving me a hands-on lesson on what it felt like to be a teddy bear. “Can’t blame her, though, Doctor,” I said, “considering what she’s been through.”
“No, I suppose not,” agreed Dr. Kellogg. “And how about you?”
“Excuse me?” I said, wondering what I had just missed.
“Well, Alia deals with her insecurity by attaching herself to you. How are you managing yours? Surely you are not feeling much better than she is.”
He was, of course, right. I didn’t share Alia’s phobia of strangers in this place, but my fears were no less serious. Unlike Alia, who would be just as terrified walking into a shopping mall, I understood that the dangers we faced at the Psionic Research Center, despite Dr. Kellogg’s kindness, were very real. Here, psionics were not people. We did not share the rights of fellow human beings. The doctors could kill us on a whim with no consequences to themselves. At least one of them, I strongly felt, wanted to. And even if they didn’t, how long would the tests last? A month? A year? And would they let us go free when it was all over? Neither Dr. Otis nor Dr. Kellogg mentioned anything about when we might be released, and I was afraid to ask, especially after Dr. Otis’s remark about how life as I knew it was over. If there were only four psionics at this facility aside from Alia and me, P-46 and P-47, what happened to the other forty-one? I feared for Cindy and Mark as well, and often wondered where they were, assuming, that is, they were still alive.
“I’m okay,” I lied quietly.
“Well, I’m still no expert on child psychology,” said Dr. Kellogg, “but I think that it would probably be best to keep the sleeping arrangements as they are, at least for the time being, if it’s alright with you.”
I cringed. I was already regretting my decision to return the army cot. It wasn’t that I disliked Alia or that I didn’t care about her wellbeing. Of course I wanted her to feel secure. But the bed was too small for the two of us, and Alia still slept with her arms around me every night, often all through the night, which meant that I was waking up every morning with a painfully stiff neck and shoulders.
“I noticed Alia’s birthday is coming up,” said Dr. Kellogg.
It was the first of March, meaning Alia’s birthday, or “finding day,” was only three weeks away. I realized that we had already been here ten days.
Dr. Kellogg smiled, saying, “Anything we
can get for her, within reasonable bounds of course.”
“So I guess an elevator pass would be out of the question?” I asked jokingly.
“Unfortunately,” said Dr. Kellogg, chuckling.
“How about a double bed?” I suggested.
“Hmm, yes, I think we can arrange that, assuming we could get it through the airlock.”
“And some more unicorn stuff, if you can.”
“Certainly,” said Dr. Kellogg. “And Adrian, I believe Dr. Otis has come to his decision about your offer. You will have the day off today, but I will be around later to collect you and deliver you to his office.”
“Any idea what his decision is?” I asked nervously.
“I would hate to spoil the surprise,” Dr. Kellogg said simply, and left the room.
I gave the morning up as a bad job and shook Alia awake.
Alia was delighted to discover that we had the whole day to ourselves. At Dr. Kellogg’s instruction, the guards who delivered our meals never entered our room, but instead simply left the trolley in the airlock for us, which meant Alia could spend the entire day without fear of human contact.
That didn’t keep her from falling into one of her long silences shortly after breakfast, though. I already knew that sitting silently was Alia’s way of steadying and recharging her emotions. When she was in one of her moods, it was always best to just let her be, so I sat beside her and quietly flipped through some of the magazines Dr. Kellogg had brought for me.
After a little over an hour, I suddenly heard Alia’s voice in my head say quietly, “I miss Cindy.”
I looked up from my magazine and noticed that Alia had come out of her spell. I squeezed her hand and said quietly, “I miss her too, Alia.”
“Do you think she’s okay?”
“I’m sure she is,” I lied, touching my forehead to hers, “and you’ll see her again soon.”
Alia hugged me tightly, and then jumped off the bed, all smiles. She wasn’t about to waste any more of her precious day off being upset. We spent the rest of the morning and early afternoon playing with her new toys and cracking each other up with silly jokes and tickles. I was surprised to see Alia acting so normal, but I guessed her silent time had done the trick.
Dr. Kellogg came for me just as Alia had curled up on the bed for her afternoon nap, and I decided to chance it and leave her there.
Dr. Kellogg pushed my wheelchair into a spacious office not far from Lab-C. There was a large oak desk at the far end of the room. In the middle of the office was a wide, rectangular table lined with comfortable-looking chairs on both sides. Unlike most of the facility, the walls here were painted light brown, and had framed pictures hanging on them. There were even some potted plants in two corners. But what surprised me most was that Dr. Otis was not the only one there. The head researcher was sitting at his big desk, but there were also twelve other researchers sitting at the table. Also, curiously, there were no military guards present.
All thirteen heads turned toward me as Dr. Kellogg wheeled me up close to Dr. Otis’s desk. Seeing how nervous I was, Dr. Otis stood up and introduced me to the other doctors, telling me their names and fields of study, which included physics, chemistry, genetics and neurobiology, to name a few. I had met many of the doctors already, but I learned that this was the core group of researchers studying psionics here. Dr. Denman, the neurobiologist, was present too, and once again he just glowered at me.
“Now, Adrian,” began Dr. Otis once the introductions were over, “Dr. Kellogg has told me of your willingness to cooperate with our study program in exchange for some limited authority over Alia Gifford’s treatment at this research center.”
“Yes, sir,” I said as crisply as I could manage in my drained condition. I chose “sir” over “doctor,” hoping it would make me sound even more sincere.
Dr. Otis continued in his businesslike tone, “Dr. Kellogg has assured me that we can trust you, and my impression of your attitude so far has been equally favorable.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“Some of us,” said Dr. Otis, glancing at Dr. Denman, “are against what I am going to do, but I have convinced our military counterpart to waive the control band protocol for you in the corridors, as well as give you limited security clearance within Level 10. Alia will remain, for the time being, your ward, provided you both behave and Dr. Kellogg is sufficiently convinced that it is in Alia’s best interests that you continue to be her caregiver. Do you understand these terms?”
“Yes, sir,” I said earnestly. Dr. Otis liked his long words, but I understood the general gist of his speech.
“You understand that this is a conditional permission?”
“Yes. Yes I do,” I said, and added a moment late, “sir.”
“Very well,” said Dr. Otis, pulling out his white remote control and pushing some buttons. “I expect to see you at our meetings once Alia’s testing begins. Welcome aboard the team, Dr. Howell.”
The rods in my control bands retracted, so I stood up from my wheelchair and bowed. Most of the doctors laughed and clapped good-naturedly, and I breathed a sigh of relief as Dr. Otis placed a red plastic card in my hand. It was labeled “PRC-A, Level 10 Limited Security Access E: Adrian Howell / P-47.”
“Alia’s testing will begin in three days,” said Dr. Otis. “Dr. Kellogg will teach you how to use the card. Would you like to say anything before we finish?”
“Just th – thank you,” I stammered. It wasn’t easy speaking to a large group of white-coats, even though they were smiling. They were still my captors, after all. But I did have something to ask for Alia, so I steadied my voice and said, “I’m sorry, Dr. Otis, but there is one thing I’d like to request.”
“Already?” asked Dr. Otis, raising an eyebrow.
“It’s about Alia,” I said carefully. “She’s a healer and a telepath. She’s not dangerous at all, and without her telepathy she can’t even talk.”
“Yes, of course,” said Dr. Otis, nodding. “I will speak to Central Control about her security protocol, and I’m sure they will agree.”
I thanked Dr. Otis again several times before Dr. Kellogg led me out of the office, leaving the wheelchair behind.
“Hold the card up to the scanners next to the doors,” explained Dr. Kellogg as we walked back down the corridor. “It will open your living quarters and give you access to all minimum-security areas on Level 10, including the doctors’ lounge and dining hall.”
“There’s no scanner on the inside of our room,” I said.
“Yes, but all you have to do is raise your voice and request that the door be opened.”
“So I’m still being monitored?”
“Of course,” said Dr. Kellogg. “All day, every day.”
I frowned, but Dr. Kellogg chuckled and said, “You are one of only a handful of psionics to ever be given a security card here. And in record time, too. Don’t worry, they do trust you.”
Dr. Kellogg stopped walking and turned to me, saying, “And to prove it, I’m going to leave you here to find your own way back. I have business elsewhere at the moment. You are welcome to go exploring if you wish, but I think you should probably return to your room before Alia wakes up.”
Dr. Kellogg headed down another corridor and disappeared. I was a bit curious about the rest of Level 10, but I agreed with Dr. Kellogg’s warning about Alia, who might wake at any moment. I didn’t want her to cry on her special day off.
I had just started walking back toward Alia’s room when I felt a bony hand grab my shoulder from behind. I turned my head, and found myself looking up into Dr. Denman’s severe hawk-like eyes. I tried to pull myself free, but for such an old man, Dr. Denman was strong. His grip on my shoulder was firm and he easily pinned me against the corridor wall. I couldn’t move at all, and I didn’t dare use my power on him. Though no longer draining me, the control bands were still locked on my wrists.
Dr. Denman looked at me with disgust etched all over his wrinkly old face, saying i
n a harsh, dry voice, “Dr. Kellogg is very impressed with your attitude. As is Dr. Otis.”
“I take it you’re not?” I asked, trying to sound braver than I felt.
“As far as I’m concerned,” he said, bringing his face close to mine, “you’re just another lab rat. Put one toe out of line, and you’ll suffer the same fate.”
Releasing my shoulder, Dr. Denman drew an imaginary line across his neck with his right index finger. The effect was chilling, but I glared back defiantly, determined not to be fazed by him. After all, Dr. Otis was the head researcher here, not Dr. Denman.
Dr. Denman cuffed me lightly across the face and growled, “You just watch yourself, Psionic.”
He walked away, and I stood shaking for a moment before remembering to hurry back to Alia’s room.
Chapter 14: Dr. Howell
My new security card opened both the outer and inner airlock doors, but only from the outside of each. To get out, I had to call the Central Control Room through the microphone, which I finally discovered was, not surprisingly, mounted on the camera. It would have been even nicer if we didn’t have to wear the control bands at all, but at least I was free of the wheelchair.
After two more days of testing, during which I was asked to levitate the same weight in different materials and order them by difficulty, I was told that Alia’s tests would begin the following day. This time, I would be the tagalong.
Alia refused to let go of my hand the next morning as we walked to Lab-D, which turned out to be something like a school classroom with desks and chairs in neat rows. There were also some soundproofed cubicles along one wall, each with an airtight door. Most of the cubicles were as small as closets, though one was larger and contained a small bed. One of the doctors explained that this laboratory was used to test telepathy and other remote communication powers such as dreamweaving.
I was told to get Alia to demonstrate her telepathy. Coaxing her into it was a long and arduous process that reminded me of my own first encounter with her. I chose Dr. Kellogg as the recipient, knowing that Alia would be most comfortable with him, and after nearly half an hour of pleading, I finally got her to send some simple messages through the cubicle walls.
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