by Amelia Grace
Instead, I pushed the button for the elevator and then banged on the metal double doors of the elevator shaft to see if that would wake him from his beauty sleep. It didn’t. Maybe he was dead after all.
I turned and walked over to him.
‘Sir, could you please tell me the time on your watch. My watch seems to have stopped,’ I said, forcing him to interact with me. I loved being annoying to certain types of people.
He lifted his head from the wall, looked at his watch, and then spoke with a deep alto voice.
‘ 4:52pm.’ And that was that. Would it kill him to use some social interactivisms. He was so stoic. He still did not make eye contact with me.
‘Thank-you kindly Sir,’ I added to his response, smiling at him. By the end of our in depth conversation the elevator had arrived, and I entered it to descend to the ground floor to the mysterious revolving door.
Max was waiting for me in the taxi. At least he gave me a few more words to chomp on than Mr Black Suit Guy.
‘ Hi Max. Would you be able to take me to the University Library again? I have to hit the nerd book shelves. I won’t need you after that. I am heading to a bar to meet a friend for a drink.’
Max looked at me in his rear vision mirror, and waited before he spoke to me. He always seemed to do that. Odd.
‘Certainly Mr Darcy. But I see you as more of a geek that a nerd!’ he responded.
So he does have a sense of humour! I chuckled to myself.
‘Have a good night Max! I’ll catch you later,’ I said as I left the taxi, meaning every word. He seemed like a nice bloke.
The nerdy fourth floor of the university library was crowded with super geeks. It was difficult to find a study table. But eventually I did, between someone who looked like Clark Kent and another guy who reminded me of Peter Parker. I was in the metropolis of Nerdville. And, I felt very comfortable oddly.
I headed to the brain shelves and spent a considerable amount of time studying the details of brain diagrams, finding the one that gave me the intricate details that I needed for the MR Implant.
Feeling incredibly pleased with my geekiness, I headed back to the Metropolis of Nerdville with superman and spiderman. As I sat down I glimpsed her wavy brown hair from the corner of my eye. My heart leapt before it sank, remembering our last encounter in Café Ooh La Laaa! And the look that she gave me before she left.
I wished that it had not ended that way. But I had to protect her.
I looked over at her. She rested her forehead in her hand as she concentrated on her study. I breathed out through my lips. I am sorry that I hurt you Georgia…..
Back to my brain book for me. I had a huge task ahead of me, drawing the brain in detail accurately. I decided to get a coffee to make me feel more alert.
I returned from the cafeteria with two cups. One coffee and one tea, for Georgia.
Approaching her silently from the side, I placed her cup of tea on her desk.
‘Peace offering. Tea, white, with half a sugar,’ I said in quiet voice.
She looked at the cup before she looked at me, her blue eyes connecting with mine. I soaked them in, filling every cell of my being.
‘Very observative Cohen,’ she replied quietly. smiling gently at me. ‘Thank-you.’
I smiled shyly to myself, and looked away from her, unable to slow my rapid heartbeat, and settle the butterflies trying to escape from my stomach. Then I was lost for words, tongue-tied. Why did she do this to me?
‘I should get back to my study. Enjoy your tea Georgia,’ I said gently, not wanting to move away from her, but I knew that I must. I turned to walk away from her, wanting her to tell me to stay, but she didn’t.
To Nerdville it was then. At least I would get my work done.
Thankfully, Georgia was out of my line of view as I drew. And as I became lost in the intricacies of drawing a detailed diagram of the brain, I soon forgot all about her, and finished what I had come here to do.
As I gathered my work together, and closed the large brainiac book, I smelt her sweet perfume before I felt the light touch of her hand on my shoulder. My body tingled under her touch. What sort of spell was she castling on me? And what was the antidote should I desperately need it?
‘There is a book jammed on the shelf that I need Cohen. I can’t free it. Would you have a go at it for me please?’ she asked, her voice clear, singing to my soul. How could I not fulfil her request.
I looked up at her and nodded. She smiled at me and mouthed thank-you.
‘Lead the way,’ I said, bowing at her, my face serious. She giggled quietly, and then turned. I followed her to the shelves of books in question. I would follow her anywhere.
She stopped and pointed to the jammed book. “Higher Intelligences” As she moved her hand away, I reached up to pull it out. It was indeed jammed. I moved my eyes along the shelf further and found a smaller book that would be easier to remove, and wriggled it out of the shelf. Then I returned to “Higher Intelligences” and removed it with ease. I handed to her.
‘For Madame,’ I said with a French accent, bowing my head.
“’Merci,’ she replied, smiling. Her hand brushed mine lightly as she took the book from me. I inhaled a breath of air sharply, in response to the warm tingly feeling that her touch gave me. Our eyes locked. It seemed for like an eternity, but I knew that it wasn’t. I dragged my eyes from hers. I don’t do girls. They are way too complicated!
‘So, is your tracker here with you tonight?’ Georgia asked.
I smiled coyly at her.
‘No,’ I answered, relieved that she had spoken to break my emotional soul connection with her.
‘Good. I need to talk to you about the book. Is here a good place?’ she asked, raising her eyebrows at me.
I looked at my watch. It was 7:30pm. I drew in a deep breath and shook my head.
‘No. I have to meet someone at 8:30pm. So I have to leave here about now,’ I replied, disappointed that I would have to leave her.
‘A girl?’ she asked, looking into my eyes, melting me into hers.
‘Yes,’ I answered quietly. She looked into my eyes for a moment longer, before she looked to the book in her hand, her face unreadable.
She looked back up into my eyes, and then smiled slightly.
‘Well, enjoy. Hopefully I can catch up with you later about the book. Can I email you to arrange a time?’ she asked, her voice cracking a little.
‘No!’ I answered sharply. ‘Give me your phone details and I will contact you. My name will be different, but you will know that it is me by the content of the email.’
‘Hmmm. Mr Mysterious. You need to explain this peculiarity to me sometime. Follow me and I will write down what you need,’ she said, eyeing me with suspicion.
I’m sorry Georgia. My life is becoming so complicated….
As she handed me the little piece of yellow paper with her phone number on it, I looked deeply into her eyes. If she knew what I was working on, she would stay well clear of me. I was about to become humanities most liked and most hated human being. She would despise me if she knew. I had to cut ties with her as soon as I could. I would talk to her about the bloody book, and then end communications with her. In the nicest possible way of course. I pocketed the yellow piece of paper, my heart saddened.
‘Soon,’ I whispered to her, and then collected my stuff and left the university library to head to the bar to meet Mia!
This should be interesting to say the least.
‘Mr Darcy, very punctual,’ she squeaked from behind me. I turned around, but did not see White Girl. Instead, an attractive red-headed woman stood behind me, smiling, her green eyes sparkling. I frowned at her, and then looked to my left and right for Mia.
‘Tardiness is not accepted,’ she squeaked again, continuing to smile. I stared at her and narrowed my eyes. This was not Mia, but her voice was so convincing as Mia.
‘Cohen, relax. It is me, Mia,’ she said in a lower tone of voice. ‘Minus the white
hair wig, minus the brown contact lenses, and thankfully, minus the irritating squeaky voice!’
I shook my head at her in disbelief.
‘Spill the beans White Girl,’ I said cautiously.
‘I come here to warn you. Mr Rubin is a very dangerous man. We have been monitoring him for quite a while, gathering evidence, using higher intelligence to nail him. He is planning to use you as the guinea pig of the MR Implant, and then deal with you, if you know what I mean. You have been very clever Cohen, in your ability to outwit him so far. He doesn’t like you having the upper hand over him. He is tracking you, we are tracking you, and we are tracking his trackers. The game is on. Act naturally at all times, and you need an SOS word, so that we can step in to save you. What will the word be Cohen?’ Mia was straight to the point, no frills attached.
I looked at her for a moment longer, half shocked, half surprised, add a tinge of fear.
‘RED!’ I responded, no frills. “Red is my SOS word to save me from whatever occurrence that you think is going to happen to me.’
‘Red it is Mr Darcy. And now for a code to use to see who’s hands you are in. Remember this Mr Darcy – your line is….you wish…..our trackers will answer with…..jellyfish.’ I looked down and laughed to myself. How absurd. How ridiculous….you wish jellyfish! I could hear the sarcasm in my own voice.
‘You find the situation amusing Mr Darcy. Believe me, when you look in the eye of death, you will not find it amusing.’ Her face was void of emotion. I raised my eyebrows at her, lifted my glass of scotch and said cheers. She nodded back at me.
‘Does he know Mia? That you lead a double life?’ I asked.
‘If he did, he would have my head as an ornament Cohen. I have protectors all around me. They are even here in the pub, as are your trackers and their trackers. It is like a game, though deadly. And we must use our higher intelligences. Outwit, outlast. Our mission is as peacekeepers on the Earth. There are technologies that must not be shared with some. Do you understand what I am saying Mr Darcy?’ Mia asked me, her green eyes piercing the depths of mine, searching for my conscience.
‘Yes,’ I answered, no frills, maintaining her piercing eye contact..
She left me then, and headed to a corner booth. She sat with a strikingly handsome man. Was he her protector, a tracker, or a boyfriend? Only observation of their connections would establish the answer to that, and I did not have the time to sit here to be a spectator of life. I had a lot to think about.
I headed out of the pub, and Max was there waiting for me.
Who paid his wage I wondered? Do I trust him or not?
Chapter 10
I entered my apartment via the right double door, to be visible on their surveillance. The aroma of chicken cacciatore awakened my dormant stomach. In silence I served it on a dinner plate, and sat at the dining table to eat it. Will my life be forever like this? Monitored, analysed and interfered with? Is it possible to press the eject button and disappear off the radar? I expected not.
I did not watch the sport on television tonight as I had done routinely since my awareness of the surveillance cameras. Instead, I headed in to shower, fogging up the bathroom to add to my plans of interfering with their surveillance vision – I had nearly finished. Then I lay in bed, in the darkness of my room, wide awake, trying to make sense of the new information that I had been given.
According to Mia, the White Girl, who is not really the white girl, Mr B. Rubin has bad intentions with the mind reading implant. He has me under surveillance, has me tracked and will use me as the guinea pig for my invention, after which he will then kill me. But, Mia who claims to be like a secret agent, has trackers following my trackers, who will step in to save me if I use the SOS word RED.
She called it a game. Outwit, outlast were her words.
Play the game. Play it better – mine.
I have to be very astute, alert at all times, one step ahead.
I also had to deal with Georgia as soon as possible, and end our communications, for her safety.
Under the darkness of the thick blankets, I turned on my fake name cell phone.
FROM: Tim Jennings
SUBJECT: Book Questions
DATE: May 13 2011 23:23
TO: Georgia Harrison
Dear Georgia,
I was rather pleased to read your book. You obviously used Higher Intelligences to write it. I would like to meet you at Café Ooh Laa Laaa! tomorrow at 3pm, to discuss possible publication of your piece of fascinating, intriguing writing. Please reply if you are unable to make this appointment.
Tim #booksmakeforverygoodfirefuel.
SEND….
Within three minutes I received a message from her.
FROM: Georgia Harrison
SUBJECT: Book Questions from me.
DATE: May 13 2011 23:26
TO: Tim Jennings
Dear Tim,
3:07 pm would be preferable. I am sure with your higher intelligence after your brain studies you should be able to organise your time schedule to meet at that exact moment in time. How was your date?
Georgia #theownerofthebookthatyoulovesomuch.
FROM: Tim Jennings
SUBJECT: 3:07PM
DATE: May 13 2011 23:35
TO: George Harrison
Dear George,
My schedules can only be arranged hourly. 3:07 pm does not exist in the higher intelligence scheme of things. Meet me at 3pm. Shall I order tea for you?
Tim #the3pmtimeisnotnegotiable.
PS – It was not a date. I don’t do girls remember!
SEND…..
FROM: GEORGIA Harrison
SUBJECT: 3:07pm
DATE: May 13 2011 23:40
TO: Tim Jennings
Dear Timothy,
George is a boy. I am not. Perhaps you should date some girls to understand us better. What if I don’t feel like tea tomorrow?
Georgia #teafortwosoundsnicebutitdependsonthecompany
FROM: Tim Jennings
SUBJECT: The Tea Company?
DATE: May 13 2011 23:45
TO: Miss Georgia Harrison
Dear Georgia,
I do not know the name of the company that makes the tea, but I shall order tea for you anyway. See you tomorrow at 3pm.
Tim #SuperGeek@MetropolisofNerdvilleUniversityLibrary.
SEND ……
There was no reply. I concealed the fake user cell phone in an inside pocket of my black clothes, and awaited 2:13am, the final installment of operation black dot on CAI surveillance cameras.
Play the game. Play it better.
Up at 6am. Gym, shower. Grab breakfast along the way. Work. My usual routine. Nothing out of the ordinary.
The graffiti wall of eye and brain art was coming along slowly. As my hands worked on the transferral of the detailed brain diagram onto the wall, in correct position and scale to the eye, my own mind visualised the workings of the mind reading device, over and over in every single detail to the nth degree.
When finally I had finished drawing the brain, I stepped back to consider the reality of the device that would be implanted. It dawned on me then that, I was out of my depth. I now required the medical professional’s knowledge to continue this quest. But who would choose the doctors – Mr B. Rubin, or me? Perhaps I should talk to Mia about it. She would advise me on what to do in this instance for sure.
Tim Jennings’ cell phone vibrated in my pocket. It was time to meet with Georgia at the Café.
I hightailed it out of my office, past Black Suit Man, down to the ground floor and out the stupid revolving doors. I arrived at the Café at 2:55pm, ordered tea for two, and sat and waited at a table.
The door jingled at exactly 3pm. I looked over and saw Georgia entering the café. I stood. She looked amazing in her light summery dress. I smiled at her and then sat down after she did. It was good manners - gentlemanly.
‘All before 3:07pm Georgia. Very impressive,’ I commented with a smirk on my face.
‘Ah….fuel for the fire I assume?’ I teased her. She frowned at me, annoyed by my comment.
‘No Cohen. Some pages are missing. You must have them,’ she accused. I shook my head at her.
‘Only one page came out of the book. But I put it back into the book Georgia,’ I explained.
Our tea for two arrived. Georgia proceeded to pour the tea into our cups.
‘Look inside the book Cohen. Look at the page numbers. Some are missing,’ she insisted.
I opened the bloody book and flicked through the pages looking for numbers. But I saw nothing but white paper – an inkless book. I shook my head as I inspected the bloody book.
Georgia grabbed the book from me, flicked through to a certain page and gave it back to me.
‘Read it out loud to me, followed by the very next page,’ she whispered aggressively. She was insane. I hesitated before I spoke to her. Then I sipped my tea, wondering how to respond to her request.
‘Georgia. This book has intrigued me since it turned up at my apartment. When I look at the pages, I don’t see anything. It is completely blank.’ I decided to be honest. There was no other way.
Her jaw dropped open, and she snatched the book from me, and flicked through the entire book rapidly, as if in a panic.
‘Cohen….Cohen, that is impossible. Clearly there are black handwritten words in this book. Look again.’ Georgia thrust the book back into my hands. Again I fingered through each of the pages, and saw nothing. I looked into her eyes, and shook my head.
‘Read to me Georgia. I want to hear what I cannot see,’ I insisted, keeping my voice calm.
‘Not here Cohen. We will have to meet again at a different place. A place where your trackers will not be. How did you know that I owned the book, if you cannot see any words in the book?’ she asked, her voice a whisper.
I leaned in closer to her, her sweet perfume exciting my sense of smell.
‘I accidently discovered that if I held it on an angle, under a certain soft light, the indentations of the words could be seen. Then I took it to my study, and did a soft pencil rubbing. That is when you name, address, email and phone number appeared, and I contacted you,’ I explained, my voice quiet, clear and succinct.
