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The Behemoth entered the room and sat on a stool in front of the girl who was still upright and immobile on the sofa but was now rousing from her sleep into a drowsy but responsive state.
The girl’s sight melted from black to milky white as the blurriness gave way to defined shapes and before her, the sight of two men; one frail and bony in a white coat, the other gargantuan; frightening and with a tyrannical look in his eyes.
The girl felt no fear. The blood that pumped through her veins felt cool as the fluid hanging above her head dripped slowly from the tiny tube into her arm.
“You can start now,” said The Man in White.
The Behemoth leaned towards the girl, looking hard into her eyes and watching as her pupils flickered bigger and smaller. He kept his eyes married to hers, waiting to read her every response to his every question.
“Where is New Utopia?” he asked.
The girl’s pupils dilated like a black balloon filling with air. The Behemoth watched as they fluttered and returned to tiny pins where they stayed; the drug having now taken effect.
“No,” said the girl oddly but in truth, she wasn’t lying as her subconscious recognised only zero and one, right and wrong, yes and no.
The drug was working. It was impossible for her to lie. Still, The Behemoth perched almost on top of her sight wrestling her indirect stare, waiting for the gesture of lie to surface. Without empathy a lie and the truth are one, there is no sign that gives one away as the other, making knowing one from the other, an art. Safrine though was different and The Behemoth looked long into her eyes waiting for the truth to come in its subtle guise.
“The old drunk knows?” he asked then falling into focus on her eyes.
The girl said nothing. Her pupils stayed as pins, her eyes didn’t flutter and her breath stayed light and unaffected.
“She didn’t register a question. Her subconscious will not respond until it is prompted with a question. She cannot read your intonation in this state so form a proper question, no propositions and avoid ambiguous assumptions” said The Man in White.
“Does the old drunk know?” asked The Behemoth again.
The girl said nothing.
The Behemoth looked to The Man in White.
“What now?” he said.
“Your questions aren’t clear. Does the old drunk know what? No linking questions, no assumptions of fact. Make every question clear and definite and her subconscious will respond. Remember only closed questions” said The Man in White.
The Behemoth exhaled heavily and returned his sight to Safrine who sat still and emotionless on the sofa, her arms flat by her side and her tiny legs, hanging from the seat with her toes barely touching the floor.
“Does The Old Drunk Bastard know where New Utopia is?” he asked slowly and certainly.
“No” she responded.
Truth in her eyes once again.
“Is The Old Drunk Bastard going to New Utopia now?” he asked.
“Yes” replied the girl.
“Is The Old Drunk Bastard alone?” he asked.
“No” replied the girl
“Is The Old Drunk Bastard with his mother?” he asked.
“Yes,” she replied.
“Does The Old Drunk Bastard’s mother know the way to New Utopia?” he asked.
“Yes,” she replied.
“And what about your brother?” he asked but she said nothing.
“Do you know where your brother is?” he asked.
“Yes,” she replied.
“Where is he?” he asked raspingly.
The girl sat still.
“Fuck” he screamed.
“Is he with The Old Drunk Bastard?” he asked.
“No” she replied.
“Does he know where The Old Drunk Bastard is?” he asked.
“No” she replied.
“Does your brother know where The Old Drunk Bastard will be?” he asked.
“Yes,” she replied.
“Will The Old Drunk Bastard wait for you and your brother?” he asked.
“Yes” replied the girl.
“Is it far from The Nest?”
“Yes,” she replied.
“Do you know the way to the place where The Old Drunk Bastard waits?” he asked.
“No” she replied.
“Can you find your brother?” he asked.
“Yes,” she replied.
“Will you take me there?” he asked.
“No” she replied.
“Ask her ability, not intent,” said the scientist.
“Can you take me there?” he asked.
“Yes,” said the girl.
“Is your brother still close by?” he asked.
“Yes” replied the girl.
“Is New Utopia real?” he asked.
“Yes,” she replied.
“Does New Utopia hold the cure for the Famine?” he asked.
“Yes,” she replied.
The girl’s eyes were unflinching through every question. In any other person this would mean nothing for without empathy, one’s soul mourns neither the absence of truth nor the compromise in the selling of one’s self. Safrine though could not mask so well the failings of her heart. She couldn’t lie like other children. And her brother too, was different.
The Behemoth pulled back from the girl and sat in thought. The man beside him finished the notes he was scribing on his clipboard. Safrine sat completely still; awake but by no means conscious.
“Get in her head. I want a map. I wanna know where The Old Drunken Bastard is. You have until the end of the day” ordered The Behemoth.
A Rising Fall Page 24
