Persistence of Vision

by Liesel K. Hill

  “Let me guess,” Maggie said drily. “They went after law enforcement first?”

  Doc shook his head. “They didn’t have to. The politicians and psychologists had already done that. It was believed that law enforcement was all but obsolete in view of the new psychological discoveries. Oh, a few arresting officers were still needed to bring those who ‘needed help’ to where they could get it, but prisons became obsolete. Investigators of every kind went out of fashion. Psychologists and neurologists were the new detectives. They held every individual’s sanity at their fingertips.”

  “Were they corrupt?”

  “In every group there are a few bad apples, but I think most of these men and women believed in what they were doing. They hoped to make society a better, more peaceful place. Their motives were good, if naïve.

  “The criminals became roving bands of mercenaries, laws and kings unto themselves. They went after politicians and other civic leaders. The short of it is that society fell completely apart within a few decades.”

  Doc sat back and was silent.

  Maggie felt depression sinking in. What a world to come from! But it wasn’t another world. This was her future too. “Is that the end of the story?”

  Doc smiled, a twinkle in his eye. “Not exactly.” He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his thighs. “There was a group, Maggie, a small, obscure group of men and women who saw it coming. They knew the instant Smith’s discovery hit the airwaves that it would be the downfall of society. Or at least they knew it was a possibility and began to plan for it.

  “Understand this discovery itself is not evil. It was a miraculous discovery with infinite potential for good. The problem was that people did the wrong things with it.”

  “Potential for what kinds of good things?”

  “So glad you asked! This brain mapping opened the door to super-brain stimulation. There are parts of the brain that human beings were not using. Scientists didn’t know what those parts were for. They knew humans used only a fraction of their brainpower, especially in the cerebral cortex, and that it had something to do with human evolution. That was all. Just another brain mystery. The mapping of the brain was the first step of many that led to stimulation of the unused parts of the brain.”

  Maggie rubbed her forehead, hoping to forestall a headache. She was having trouble keeping up with him.

  “What are we talking about here, Doc, telekinesis?”

  She was joking, and her face fell when the doctor cocked his head to the side and answered, “Among other things.”

  Maggie’s mouth fell open. Her head whipped rapidly between the two men. So many things raced through her head that she had trouble putting them into words. The first to make it out were, “Can you two read my mind?”

  Doc chuckled and Marcus smiled, both shaking their heads.

  “Relax, Maggie. Neither Marcus or I can do any such thing. Your private thoughts are your own.”

  Maggie tried to regard them both warily, but that was tricky as they were standing one hundred and eighty degrees apart.

  “So what can you do?”

  “Everyone has different strengths. Think of physical genetics. Everyone has a different body type. Some people are tall and, no matter how much they eat, will always be thin. Others have to work for it and, even if they are thin, will always be short. In a similar fashion, everyone has different strengths, tendencies, and abilities when it comes to brain stimulation.

  “Telepathy, as you are thinking of it, is possible, but extremely difficult. I have only met a handful of people in my lifetime who are capable of it, and even their abilities are sparse. I am particularly adept at sensing atmospheric changes, especially heat.”

  Maggie frowned. “Like what?”

  “I can sense the change in the air when a warm body comes within a mile of me. It can be a valuable ability when moving through enemy territory or trying not to be a predator’s next meal.”

  The last was said with a mischievous smile, and Maggie had the feeling that Doc had been in just such a situation before.

  “So,” Maggie hurried on, “what’s all that got to do with the degradation of society? This group you spoke of—”

  “BCO. It stands for Brain Chemistry Optimists. It’s what they called themselves.”

  “Oh. Well, they…did what exactly?”

  “They knew they had to preserve humanity for the future. They began experimenting on themselves. It’s not as dangerous as it sounds. All they did was use the discovery of the brain map to manipulate their own abilities. They did research, conducted experiments, and taught themselves to use their minds in extraordinary ways. They told as many people as would listen that it is choice, not brain chemistry, that determines our actions and that only by being accountable for our actions could society continue to function.

  “Few listened to them. As those who could profit from the downfall of society rose in the ranks, the BCO became hunted. Eventually they had to go into hiding. They knew society would continue to decline and would eventually hit rock bottom before it could be rebuilt. They taught their children to be patient and vigilant and look for the opportunity to rebuild.”

  He didn’t go on right away, and Maggie still didn’t understand why she was here or what any of this had to do with her. She was certainly no telepath.

  “So…you’re saying that this BCO group… You’re part of it—”

  “We’re their children and descendants.”

  “And…what?” She looked back and forth between them again. “Society has hit rock bottom, and now you’re trying to rebuild it?”

  The doctor smiled. “Not exactly. I’m not so sure society is at rock bottom yet. Or perhaps it is but is staying there for the time being. However, another phenomenon rose about twenty years ago—uh, in our time.”

  “What phenomenon?”

  “At the time, roving gangs did as they pleased, terrorizing normal people. Most people fought tooth and nail simply to eat and keep their children safe. Fewer children were being born, because no one could trust each other enough to form lasting relationships, let alone intimate ones. People began banding together for security. At least, that’s all it was at first. Think of it like a circle of wagons—men and women coming together, agreeing to abide by a certain set of rules and watch each other’s backs.”

  “Makes sense.”

  “Perhaps. But now throw in the element of neurochemical stimulation.”

  Maggie frowned. “Meaning what?”

  “Meaning that now people were joining not just physically but mentally too. They were linking the networks of their minds like so many lines of needlework—too intricately to be undone, at least by any outsider.”

  “You’re saying that they became…a collective?”

  “Precisely. A collective conscious that moves, thinks, and acts as one. Oh, it’s understandable, I suppose. The world was such a crazy place back then. There was no society anymore, no civility. People wanted safety, security, peace of mind. The collectives gave them that.”

  Doc fell silent, lost in thought. Maggie glanced at Marcus and found him far away too. Maggie realized this was a real and disturbing issue for them. It was one Doc had lived through. She wasn’t sure how old Marcus was, but he looked a bit older than her twenty-four years. That meant that he would have been a child while this was going on. What a strange atmosphere to grow up in.

  Maggie sagged against her chair, not sure what to feel. From the way Doc was talking, he didn’t approve of the collectives. That was good; she didn’t either. Yet that meant that the BCOs were the freedom fighters of individuality in a century so far from her own in every way as to be quite alien to her. What could men like these want with her? And what had Marcus meant about having met her in the past but her not remembering?

  “So,” she prodded, “these collectives sprang up and…”

  “Oh, right. At first there were just small groups, but they galvanized. Soon whole collectives were joining together.
Then it was odd not to be part of one. Those who still had individual minds were the minority. Long story short—eventually only four large collectives governed the entire world.”

  “Four?”

  “Yes. Essentially they were North America, South America, Europe, and Asia. Not that they stayed within these geographical boundaries, mind you. They migrated around, and such continental distinctions can no longer be made in terms of political boundaries. The world as you know it is completely non-existent here.”

  “Where’s here?”

  “Here is the same place it is in your time, only now you’re in our time.”

  “So this cavern doesn’t exist in my time?”

  “No. It was built years after you were born—actually, years after you died”—Maggie winced—“by the BCO’s.”

  “Now we come to the crux of the matter, Maggie. The problem with collectives is that, in theory, they work. Far be it for me to criticize any political theory. Most of the philosophical logic is sound. The problem is that reality is not philosophy, and political theories fail to take in the human element.”

  Maggie’s headache was getting worse. “Doc, you lost me.”

  “Sorry. In theory, collectives can exist in perfect harmony. In reality, they exist less like communism and more like Marxism.”

  Maggie had to turn that over in her head. “Are you saying that one person is controlling each of these collectives?”

  Doc smiled like a proud teacher at a prize pupil. “Yes. We don’t know the particulars. It may be an elite group or a single person.”

  “But how can you tell they’re being controlled and are not a perfect collective?”

  The doctor looked at her steadily. His easy smiled had vanished. “Because ten years ago, the collectives began hunting individuals.”

  A chill started in the middle of Maggie’s back and vibrated outward. It took her breath away. Doc’s words hung in the air like the after image of a fluorescent light, but blinking didn’t take them away.

  Maggie leaned forward. “Doc, what’s this got to do with me?”

  “When the individuals began to die mysteriously or simply disappear, other things began to happen as well. The world began to…shift, almost imperceptibly. We aren’t sure what went on during those years—no one kept records that we know of—but what we do know is this: there are now only two collectives.”

  “Wait. Two were killed? Or did they join together?”

  “The latter. The thing is that two and two did not join together. Rather, one absorbed two of the other three.”

  “You think the mastermind is trying to absorb everyone in the world into a single collective?”

  Doc nodded. “Such an individual or group of individuals would control the world through one collective conscience. The crux of it, Maggie, is that we in the BCO are trying to stop it.”

  “How?”

  “In order to bring down the collectives, we must know more about them. We are continually gathering information, intercepting messages between the collectives, trying to infiltrate them, and trying to learn more about them in any way that presents itself. As of right now, we are a long way from our aims, but we remain positive and keep moving forward.”

  Maggie thought about that for a moment. “It sounds like you’re ants on a sandy beach trying to stop the tide.”

  He smiled without mirth. “That’s one way to look at it.”

  “Then why try?”

  “How can we do anything else? All of us have sworn that we will not live as part of the collective. We see it as a form of slavery. We will live free or die fighting. That is our creed.”

  Maggie shivered. “So what happens next? Will the two remaining collectives fight?”

  Doc spread his hands. “Though I can tell you a great deal about your future, Maggie, I can tell you nothing about ours. There is a lot we don’t know: who the mastermind or minds are, how the smaller collectives are being absorbed, if they’re putting up resistance.”

  “What do we know?” Maggie asked, surprised to find that she’d included herself in their group.

  “We know that individuals are being murdered. A true collective would have neither the ability nor the inclination for such an act, so there must be someone else behind it. A collective might try to convince other individuals to join them, sell them on what they believe is a better way of life. But murder takes passion and individual decision, which true collectives don’t have.”

  “How are the individuals being murdered?” The question came out before she thought about it. In truth, she wasn’t sure she wanted to know.

  “Assassination, mostly. They send men called Arachnimen. They come on their own or in small groups. We’ve captured a few but have not gotten much information out of them. They may be individuals—and by that I mean not tied to the collective—but just brainwashed. Or they may be intricately tied to the collective mind. We simply don’t know.”

  “You met some of them,” Marcus said, “back at your house. They got their name from the spider web tattoo they all have over their left eye.”

  “Met some of them?” Doc’s face contorted in alarm.

  “I didn’t get a chance to fill you in, Doc. One of them beat me there and hurt her. Two more chased us to the meadow. They grabbed her ankle and tried to drill. I did my thing, and I think she’s all right, but I wanted you to check her out, just to be sure.”

  “What thing?” Maggie burst out. “What did you do to me?”

  Doc made calming gestures with his hands. “It’s one of the neurochemical abilities I was referring to earlier. Marcus can reconnect torn or shattered neural pathways, or if that’s not possible, forge new ones.”

  “Meaning…he healed me?”

  Doc smiled again with pleasure. “Exactly.”

  Maggie looked at Marcus in a new light. He’d saved her in more ways than one. He was still leaning against the wall near the door and looking particularly uncomfortable.

  Maggie sighed. She still didn’t have the answers she wanted.

  “Doc, I don’t mean to belittle any of this. I understand the magnitude of everything you’ve told me. I think. But you still haven’t said what this has to do with me. What am I doing here?”

  “I’m getting there, Maggie. I promise.”

  “But how can you even be sure you can win? Maybe this is simply the next phase in human evolution.”

  “That question is a perfect segue into the next part of the explanation.”

  Maggie crossed her arms in exasperation. “Which is?”

  Doc went to the other side of the desk and rummaged through the drawers. Maggie turned questioning eyes on Marcus, but he just gazed at her steadily.

  Finally Doc found what he was looking for and came back to his seat. In his hands he held a shiny, silver rock. It was small enough for the doctor to cup easily in his hands but looked heavy. Its height and thickness seemed to be roughly equal, but it wasn’t perfectly round. The surface seemed almost metallic.

  “What is that?”

  “This is called a conduit stone.”

  “What does it do?”

  “Only what I tell it to. Hold still please, Maggie.”

  Holding the stone out a few inches from his body, Doc closed his eyes and was silent for long seconds. A low humming sound began somewhere deep in Maggie’s ear canal. Perhaps it had always been there and she was just now noticing it because of the silence. Or perhaps it was the very silence she was hearing. The hum stopped as soon as Doc opened his eyes.

  He smiled brightly. “Everything’s fine.” He shot Marcus a reassuring smile.

  Marcus nodded, looking mildly relieved.

  “So.” Doc twisted around in his chair and set the stone on the desk. “Back to our explanation.”

  “No, no, no!” Maggie waved her hands around. “What was that? What did you do? Stop being so cryptic.”

  Doc looked taken aback. His eyes widened in almost comic surprise, and he chuckled.

  �
�I see what you mean, Marcus. It is disconcerting, isn’t it? Forgive me, Maggie. This may happen to you a lot at first. We are all going to assume that you understand certain things. We know logically that you don’t, but we have memories of you so we just naturally assume…”

  He stopped, chuckled again, and took a deep breath.

  “Forgive me. This stone amplifies my neurochemical abilities. As a doctor, I use my gifts mostly for medical purposes. I was conducting a medical scan. I use the stone to scan all systems of your body to make sure that you are in complete homeostasis. Marcus did a good job when he healed you. You are in perfect health. I also scanned him, since he did battle with the Arachnimen, and he’s fine as well. Now, to move on…”

  Doc started talking again, but Maggie couldn’t concentrate on what he was saying. This was getting more farfetched by the minute. He used his mind and a shiny rock to do a medical scan? She felt like holding her shirt more tightly closed.

  “And then—” Doc was saying. “Maggie? Are you all right?”

  She looked up at him. “This is a lot to take in, Doc.”

  His smile was sympathetic.

  “I mean, forgive me if you’re not, but how do I know that you aren’t both crazy?”

  She prepared for an outburst or at least indignation on his part. No one liked to be asked if they were nuts.

  Doc leaned forward, took both her hands in his, and smiled. “You are forgiven, Maggie.” He said it with such empathy and steadiness that she regretted her assertion. Could a lunatic be so genuine?

  “The truth is that you can’t be sure. I can only ask you to trust me. Or better yet, trust yourself. That was one thing that always amazed me about you. You have an uncanny ability to discern the truth in any situation, even when you don’t have all the facts. I always thought it might be a neurological ability of some kind, though I can’t be sure of that. Trust your instincts. Do you really think we’re crazy? Or that we mean you any harm?”