The Virus

by Steven Spellman

  “Yeah, well, I guess I’d like to know how that went then, because I don’t remember much of it. But also, my telepathy, it’s seems to have gotten stronger, somehow. I’m…” Dr. Crangler stopped his patient midsentence with an emphatic shaking of his head, and a nearly imperceptible gesture toward the room’s hidden camera. Geoffrey grimaced that he understood and was instantly sorry to have made such a foolish slip. He would’ve likely assured Dr. Crangler that he was ‘terribly sorry’ again, except that the doctor spoke this time.

  “It would probably be best if…” the doctor said, finishing with another nearly unnoticeably gesture toward his head. Geoffrey understood, but hesitated to give a moment for the doctor to prepare himself first. After this latest incident, Dr. Crangler was clearly not ready for more of Geoffrey’s soundless communication, but he wouldn’t have suggested it just now except that it was the only way for his superiors to not catch wind of the phenomenal developments that were taking place in one of his star patients. After the brief interval passed, Geoffrey and the doctor commenced with the telepathic conversation. Had Dr. Crangler’s panel of superiors being observing—which they most definitely were—they would’ve been given no indication that an exchange was continuing to take place, except for a grunt, an answering nod, or something of the sort, that would accompany a normal conversation. Other than that, no words were spoken.

  Dr. Crangler was the first to begin. Before we start with this mindspeech, he advised sternly, nevertheless smiling to himself at the completely new word he had just coined, please turn down the volume, because obviously you’re right. Something did happen to you out there, because it’s more unbearable to endure your telepathy now than it was when we first started. Now, I’d like to think I’d grown rather used to this whole experience, but back there in my office, well, that was just too much. Dr. Crangler waited for an unspoken response, but none followed. The silence lasted so long, that he was about to open his mouth and ask if something was wrong. Just before he could, though, Geoffrey spoke into his brain in something akin to a mental whisper.

  Is this any better? Geoffrey asked tentatively. As Dr. Crangler well knew from his experience with Geoffrey’s special gift, mental conversation was nothing like its physical counterpart. Though ‘voices in one’s head’ could potentially drive a person insane (though, many would argue that to have ‘voices in one’s head’ would indicate insanity in the first place), thoughts alone could never be loud enough to literally deafen someone physically. He could scream as loudly as humanly possible in another’s head and his physical person would never be affected. So, though Geoffrey was taking great pains to lessen the volume of his telepathic voice, it did no good. It wasn’t the ‘volume’ of Geoffrey’s soundless voice that was the problem, it was the increased presence, the sudden elevation in power of that internal voice.

  No, it isn’t Geoffrey. Dr. Crangler answered truthfully as he forced himself to resist the impulse to clap his hands over his ears. Another lengthy silence followed, longer than the first, but the doctor made no attempt to break this quiet, as it was clear that Geoffrey was musing on something, perhaps some way to mute things back down so he and the doctor could engage in wordless communication as before. By the look on his face, he almost had the answer. Finally, revelation broke upon Geoffrey’s face. He put up a finger in intimation that the doctor should wait while he tried something. He laced his hands together at the fingers and twiddled his thumbs around and around each other like someone in deep thought, and shortly afterward Dr. Crangler heard Geoffrey’s voice inside his head. This time, something of the static from their initial trials, though relatively faint, had returned, and Geoffrey’s mental voice, though still slightly louder than normal, was much more bearable.

  Is this better? Geoffrey asked, twiddling this thumbs faster than ever.

  Actually, the doctor took a moment to respond, it is. As soon as he had heard the very first indication of foreign sound in his head, he had squeezed his eyes tightly shut in anticipation. He now cautiously opened them. Now, we may continue. His relief was evident even in his mental voice.

  Good, good. Geoffrey answered soundlessly, still twiddling his thumbs furiously.

  But, before we go on, what did you do…how did you tone it down? Dr. Crangler asked, seeing Geoffrey’s hand movements, but paying them little mind.

  This. Answered Geoffrey, calling attention his hands.

  Dr. Crangler’s mind said nothing, but his face clearly asked the question.

  This. Geoffrey repeated. I had an idea. You see, being here in this room all day and night with virtually no interaction is terrible for a person’s mind…unless he has something to concentrate on. So, that’s what I did. You just don’t know, Dr. Crangler…actually, that’s foolish. Of course you know…how many endless hours I’ve sat here doing nothing but concentrating, trying to discover if it was possible to hone my abilities. Dr. Crangler remembered seeing his patient bent over for many hours, rubbing his temples, as if he was indeed in intense concentration. He suddenly wished he had come and given his patient something else with which to focus his attention, but what was done was done. Well, it was. And I did, but nothing like whatever happened to me yesterday. Well, anyway, I could hear other people’s thoughts more clearly and, so I assumed, from greater distances. Well, the idea came to my mind that maybe I could reverse that somehow. See, I thought that if I did something else, something a little distracting, I couldn’t focus solely on mindspeech. Geoffrey smiled, with you. If focusing my concentration honed my telepathy, then distracting myself should dull it, at least enough so we can talk. And what’s more distracting than twiddling thumbs? I wasn’t sure it would work, but obviously it has.

  Dr. Crangler began rubbing his temples as he continued to stare at Geoffrey. Not only had Geoffrey’s vocabulary benefited greatly from this unmappable expansion, but apparently, his problem solving capabilities were evolving as well. Given enough time, who knows what Geoffrey could be capable of? At any rate, Dr. Crangler admitted to himself that he probably wouldn’t have thought of such a simple and therefore ingenious way to handle the problem. The doctor had to resist the urge to exclaim, “Brilliant! but he stifled it as best he could. So, his only response was, “As you say, there we have it, so let’s move on.”

  If Geoffrey noticed Dr. Crangler’s momentary angst, he didn’t show it on his face or in his reply. Right, good idea, Doctor. He returned Well, I have a few questions. I guess the most important one would be, ‘What happened last night?’ I remember most of the day, but after the champagne bottles…well, I don’t remember much after that. Speaking of which, did you arrange that?

  I did. Dr. Crangler answered simply.

  Well, thank you very much…so what happened?

  The doctor’s right eyebrow rose tenuously, then his lips curled into a faint smile that remained for some time. So, resumed Geoffrey, what happened. Did we…you know?

  Not in the mirror truck, no. Dr. Crangler finally answered, But from what I understand, you two certainly would have. From the information in Lieutenant Dan’s report, Delilah was literally coming out of her clothes and throwing herself at you about midway through the third bottle of champagne.

  So, there was a third bottle. Geoffrey thought to himself, but said nothing to the doctor.

  And he specified that the two of you would’ve certainly…commenced, right there on the mirror truck floor for everyone to see if both of you didn’t need to use the bathroom very badly.

  Use the bathroom?

  Completely consuming three bottles of expensive champagne can have that kind of effect on a body.

  Geoffrey nodded. Then, after a moment, he returned to the conversation at hand, but now seemed to be studying his twiddling thumbs more acutely. Even at this angle, Dr. Crangler could see that his face had fallen some. So…my plan failed, things didn’t work out. It was more a sullen statement than a question.

  Actually, it worked perfectly. Answered the doctor, but not immediately.
He couldn’t truthfully deny that his patient’s momentary malaise was heartening, even if it was for all the wrong reasons. Seeing Geoffrey deflated encouraged the doctor that he was still the one wielding the power here, even temporarily.

  Geoffrey stopped twiddling his thumbs, and his head (and his spirits too) flew upward. It did? Dr. Crangler clapped his hands over his ears as quickly as Geoffrey’s head had flown upward. Oh, sorry Dr. Crangler, sorry. Terribly sorry. Geoffrey answered, twiddling his thumbs faster than ever.

  His sudden excitement had thrown all his attention to the doctor and made his mental voice overwhelming. The doctor’s hands were still slapped over his ears, and though Geoffrey apologized another five or six times in a more bearable tone, the doctor showed no sign of relief. Finally, he just sat silently and waited, careful to never cease with the thumb rotations. After what felt like hours Dr. Crangler finally moved his hands away from his ears. Gently, the doctor touched his right hand to the inside of his ear and inspected it for blood. Only then did Geoffrey begin to realize the full extent of his abilities. The doctor stood at strict attention, having leapt up at this latest scare. He slowly returned to the chair, but still he said nothing. Once reseated, the doctor heaved a few deep breaths and finally met Geoffrey’s awestruck, confused, and most of all, frightened, gaze. By the way Dr. Crangler was acting, Geoffrey was tempted to check to make sure he hadn’t inadvertently given him permanent brain damage.

  Dr. Crangler opened his mouth to speak and Geoffrey was so anxious to hear him say that he was okay, that Geoffrey forgot to twiddle his thumbs for a moment. Catching his lapse almost instantly, he resumed with an even more fierce determination, chiding himself internally. Meanwhile, Dr. Crangler, having opened his mouth to say something, yawned deliberately instead. He opened his mouth a second time, again giving every indication that he was about to speak, but only performed the same yawn. At last, with an audible huff, Geoffrey gave up. He stopped twiddling his thumbs, unlaced his hands, and slumped his shoulders. “I think we should give it a break for a while and just talk normally. At least, until I can figure out what’s going on.” He said. He didn’t expect an answer from the obviously ailing doctor and began to turn away, when he heard a whisper.

  “I think that would be your best idea yet.” Dr. Crangler said so low that it was nearly inaudible.

  “What did you say?” Geoffrey asked.

  “Just give me a moment to collect myself. That was pretty intense.” After a few moments had passed, Dr. Crangler spoke again, in something much closer to his regular voice. “Anyway, what I was saying was that your plan did work. It worked marvelously actually.” Dr. Crangler wiggled a finger to his ear again, and checked his finger for blood. “Much better than I expected, to be honest.”

  Geoffrey face lit up instantly, then, just as instantly, grew more sober. “So I…she…we…”

  “Yes you did, and quite successfully.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means that Delilah Hanson has been successfully impregnated.”

  Chapter 29

  Geoffrey had many questions to be answered, but there was one that stood above the rest. “How can you tell that Delilah is pregnant already? If we did have sex, like you claim, then it would’ve been, what, just hours ago, right? How can you possibly know something like that so early?”

  “I’m sure it seems like a far stretch, Geoffrey, but I assure you we have the technology here to determine the exact moment of conception…and you and Delilah had definitely conceived. Don’t look so bewildered, Geoffrey, this is great news. It is the news we were hoping for.”

  As the conversation continued, Geoffrey found that, thanks to Dr. Crangler and his extensive alien studies, operations, etc., the government, and especially this facility, had been afforded the opportunity to extract and manipulate an insanely large host of futuristic technologies, the majority of which were yet in the experimental stage. They all promised advancements that were, until now, beyond anyone’s wildest dreams.

  The sorbent, the chamois cloth that came with it, the small weapon Lieutenant Dan and his men were holding—a device, Geoffrey learned, that was able to harness the alien light similar to that in the Cleaning Lights, and focus it to the strength of a million of Earth’s strongest lasers; so, for its deceptive size, it was the deadliest weapon mankind had ever had—the mirror truck’s invisible speakers, the mirror truck’s one way mirror walls; all of that and much, much more was in one way or other the result of alien intelligences. Just another step closer to us becoming the aliens, and that, in the name of progress, Geoffrey thought ominously. The Cleaning Lights may’ve also been, according to Dr. Crangler, the reason Geoffrey had not experienced a hangover. The doctor was surprisingly mum as to any further explanation about this and Geoffrey noticed that he labored much harder than normal to hide his thoughts on this particular matter. No worries, Geoffrey told himself. He was just happy for the results, however they had come about. But, as man can walk on the moon and still not eradicate the common cold, so Geoffrey still had a difficult time understanding how a pregnancy test could detect pregnancy at the very moment of conception, even in the light of the many further reaching technologies he had just been made privy to.

  This brought the conversation full circle and back to the most pressing situation at hand, upon which Geoffrey found out even more from Dr. Crangler that he hadn’t known a couple hours ago. First, though Delilah had literally thrown herself at Geoffrey in the mirror truck, the sex that had certainly been partially inspired by too much champagne had not taken place precisely because of the same thing. Before things had a chance to really heat up, both patients found that their bladders were screaming for release, and Lieutenant Dan, being the war-seasoned lieutenant general that he was, valued the maintenance and following of orders over life itself. As such, he strictly refused both Mr. Summons’s and Miss Hanson’s ardent pleas to be let out, since it was strictly against the orders of not only Dr. Crangler, but his superiors as well. Even when Delilah finally honored his unwavering obedience with every form of profanity her inebriated brain could conjure, the lieutenant general remained completely immovable. There was no doubt that he would’ve let both patients fill the rear of the mirror truck to its brim with piss and still not ordered his men to unlatch the doors.

  Luckily for them, however, he did speed them back to the military complex before such an undesirable set of circumstances could take place. So, no sex took place on their outing, but that all changed after they were allowed to use their separate bathrooms, and, also thanks to Dr. Crangler’s arranging, they were allowed to both go back to Delilah’s room—thankfully, without Lieutenant Dan present.

  “So, we didn’t even make it to your gourmet meals on our date, huh?” asked Geoffrey, in a tone more than slightly downcast.

  “I wouldn’t worry about that too much.” returned the doctor, a faint but uncharacteristically mischievous smile on his lips “Delilah and you enjoyed your dessert.” Geoffrey looked up sharply. The realization that if he and Delilah had indeed had sex in the facility, then it would’ve been recorded by the cameras (as was everything else), which meant that prying eyes watched the entire show, had been one that Geoffrey was trying to avoid thinking about for as long as possible. Now, with the fact thrown squarely in his face, Geoffrey found himself speechless. “Hmm,” resumed the doctor. In a whisper nearly as faint as when he and Geoffrey had had their last telepathic communication, “Perhaps, I’ve acquired a bit of your telepathy, because I bet I know what you’re thinking.” He rose back up and resumed in his normal voice, “But, again, you needn’t worry. I’m a doctor, not a voyeur. I only observed until it was clear that things would progress as had been planned. After that…” he made a gesture like that of turning off a television set. “I have no idea if the same may be said of my superiors.” Doctor Crangler made a helpless gesture.

  The doctor then informed his patient that if he had any further questions, they would have to be answer
ed another time, because Dr. Crangler needed to get some important work done now that things were officially set in motion. He gestured to the camera for the door to be opened, and left in noticeable haste. Though the reason he gave for his abrupt departure was a legitimate one, Geoffrey knew that it was not the real one. The real reason the doctor had to leave in such a hurry was because he was still experiencing extreme discomfort from Geoffrey’s mental outburst earlier. It was clear that Geoffrey’s as yet unexplained surge in mental ability was taking its toll on the doctor. As he mused on this, looking down at his hands, he noticed that it seemed to be taking a toll on him as well. He looked hard at his arms and legs. Were they getting skinnier? He lifted each in its turn, and, though it may’ve only been his imagination, he was almost certain they were considerably lighter. He thought about the late Mr. Reynolds (oddly, enough, the astronomer had not crossed his mind for some time) and his emaciated frame, but quickly brushed any hint of possible connection from his mind. At least for now. The important thing was that Delilah was pregnant, and if things went well, she would eventually bear the child that would be the herald of hope for the entire world. Not a distant second in terms of importance, as far as Geoffrey was concerned anyway, was that he had been granted the opportunity to form a much needed bond with someone with whom he may well be in love, and in this the most dismal of times. He sat in his room now, uninterested in mental exercises, content to let his mind wander, and waited to see what would happen now.

  Sure, he wanted to see Delilah, to hold her in his arms, to stroke her beautiful black locks, to ask her if the sex was good for her—that is, if she remembered it—but he knew that she would now be under agonizingly close supervision for the next nine months. He supposed she would be watched more in the first trimester, since the beginning of the pregnancy is usually the most precarious time of all, and especially since this was not just any pregnancy, but the pregnancy to save all pregnancies. No doubt Geoffrey would voice his opinion—repeatedly if necessary—that he not only wanted, but also deserved time with Delilah. However, he thought that just now it may be better to let the doctor, his staff, and the powers that be, do their jobs. Besides, he could certainly use some time to get himself together and try to come to terms with everything that was happening all around him.