by Kelli Kimble
“Years ago, people would have said it was impossible to communicate the way we commonly communicate now,” Mrs. Darit said. “This is just another form of communication.”
I glanced at the doctor. She was staring at the disk, waiting for something to happen.
“I don’t understand,” I said. “You want me to move this just by thinking about it?”
“Stop questioning, Nimisita. Just do it,” the doctor said.
Mrs. Darit glanced at the doctor. “Her name is Nimisila.”
“Whatever. Who cares? Just move the damn disk.”
I licked my lips and focused on the disk. I tried to imagine it moving across the tray. I tried to think about how it would feel if I were touching it, and the vibration it would cause in my fingertip as it slid over the metal. But, the disk didn’t move.
I sat and stared at the disk for probably an hour. Mrs. Darit stood by and monitored the readouts. The doctor kept her eyes on the disk.
Finally, Mrs. Darit called it. “All right, Nimisila. You just close your eyes for a minute and take a break.”
Mrs. Darit and the doctor conferred together, while I leaned my head back against the chair. I could hear snippets of their conversation; Mrs. Darit was saying that something-or-other in my brain was lighting up but not enough. It was clear they really thought I’d be able to move the disk. Maybe I wasn’t moving it because I didn’t believe I could. But, that was silly. Nobody could just move things with their mind.
Mrs. Darit and the doctor broke apart. “We’re going to try one more time today,” Mrs. Darit said. “This could be—like the other skills you’ve acquired—something you’ll have to build up to. This time, I want you to close your eyes. See the disk in your mind’s eye. Feel how it’s cool to the touch; how its surface is slightly rough; how it smells metallic. Think about it moving just a hair. Just a tiny bit, to the left. Picture your brain moving it with a wave of thought. Your thoughts are going to sweep it gently to the side. Okay?”
I had my eyes closed, and I imagined the things she said. But, it wasn’t any use. I couldn’t move the disk, and no amount of imagining was going to change that. Still, I followed through with her requests because I had no other choice. It seemed like another half an hour went by. I had no idea how much time passed, but I started to drift off to sleep at least twice. Both times, my eyes opened, and the doctor took an expectant step forward; I supposed she was imagining the motion was a breakthrough of some sort. Mrs. Darit seemed to know better, and she encouraged me to refocus each time it happened.
Eventually, I felt the tugging of Mrs. Darit removing the fobs and sensors from my forehead. I opened my eyes. “That’s enough for today,” Mrs. Darit said. “You can return to your room, Nimisila.”
“Wait, no. She can try again. She still has plenty of energy, don’t you?” the doctor asked, though it was clear she wasn’t expecting an answer from me.
“You act as if we’re running out of time,” Mrs. Darit said. “There’s plenty of time. I know we can develop this in her. But, you’ve got to let it develop. You can’t force it.”
The doctor licked her lips. “Easy for you to say,” she mocked. “You aren’t shut out of common society. You don’t have to rely on the kindness of others.”
Mrs. Darit slid her gaze towards me and back to the doctor. “You want to air all that right now?” she asked.
The doctor clamped her mouth closed and stalked away.
“Thanks,” I said to Mrs. Darit. She helped me down from the chair. “I was really starting to get tired.”
“Don’t thank me yet, Nimisila. We’ve got a long road ahead of us. Go on back to your room.”
I did as she said. Talika was eating from the dinner tray. My portions looked a little picked at, as if she’d eaten some of mine. But, I didn’t call her out. I shoveled the rest into my mouth and fell into bed, exhausted.
“What’d you work on today?” Talika asked, as I pulled the covers up to shut out the light.
“They want me to move things with my mind,” I said.
Talika didn’t answer.
◆◆◆
I was escorted to the lab the next morning by Mrs. Darit. She came to our room and collected me, telling Talika she wasn’t needed for this experiment, and she should report to the other lab. Talika’s nose wrinkled; I assumed it was from boredom or disgust, but I didn’t know what she was supposed to do in the other lab.
Mrs. Darit kept her hand on the small of my back as we walked. “Today, I think we’re going to have a breakthrough,” she said. “Last night, I studied your readouts from the past few weeks. I think I see a path forward to telekinesis. I’m sure we’re close.”
“What’s that?” I asked.
“Telekinesis? It’s the ability to move things with your mind. Like the disk you tried to move yesterday.” She pushed the door to the lab open. There were a lot more people in the lab today, and they seemed much busier than usual, too.
“Why are all these people here?” I asked.
“This is to test my idea,” she said. “They’re all going to contribute to the test.”
“Oh,” I said. I climbed into the chair, and she snapped the tray into place. I glanced around. “Where’s Faith?”
“This isn’t her area of expertise,” Mrs. Darit said.
The others in the room came over to her, lining up shoulder to shoulder, facing my chair. She must have instructed them to do that without including me in the conversation. That made me nervous. Normally, it was something I was used to; others used to communicate nonverbally in front of me all the time. But, now that I could hear it . . . it made me uncomfortable to be obviously excluded.
Mrs. Darit placed a feather on the tray in front of me. “Now. We’ll start with something even easier than the disk. Okay? Just like yesterday. You’re going to use your mind to move this feather from there to here.” She pointed to a spot on the tray. “You are not to touch it with your hand. Your readings were best yesterday when your eyes were open, so I’d suggest doing that. Focus on the feather, and concentrate on moving the feather even a fraction of an inch to the left. It only has to move a little to be a success.”
I did as she asked. I thought about how the feather would be soft to the touch, and how it would tickle. How I could create a wave of air that would lift the feather and shift it to the left.
But, the feather didn’t budge; it didn’t even flutter.
“It’s okay, you’re doing great,” Mrs. Darit said. “We’re going to do something now to try and concentrate your energy. Okay? This is going to make it easier to move the feather.”
I nodded—though something told me I wasn’t going to like whatever they were going to do to concentrate my energy.
“Go ahead and concentrate,” she said.
I stared at the feather. It didn’t move.
A steady humming began in my inner ear. It grew and buzzed. I resisted the urge to stick my finger in my ear.
“Shut it out,” Mrs. Darit said. “You hear the sound they’re making, right? Use the energy from it but shut it out. Don’t hear it. You’re alone.”
The buzz grew. It turned to a mournful moaning. My head felt like it might split from ear to ear. Distantly, I heard another sound—a scream of pain. Was it coming from me?
The feather moved.
Barely. But, it moved.
“Did you see that?” Mrs. Darit said, pouncing on the tray and picking up the feather. “It moved! She moved it. Did you see it?” She was talking to the others. The sound in my ear faded away, as they stopped to turn their attention to her instead. “Did you see it?” she said to me. “You saw it, right? It moved from here to here.” She pointed to the feather’s starting point, and then maybe an inch to the left. “You did it, Nimisila. You’ve achieved telekinesis.”
“Okay,” I said. A vague feeling of satisfaction came over me. I knew Mrs. Darit didn’t like me now. But, I also wanted desperately for her to approve of me. Doing something she thought so
highly of buoyed me up, despite the situation.
“Great,” she said. “This is terrific. I knew it would work. I knew it.” She went to the console, printed a readout, and scribbled notes on it, circling and drawing arrows in what seemed to be a haphazard way.
The doctor pushed open the door. “What’s all this?” she asked.
“She did it,” Mrs. Darit said, pointing to me. “She moved this feather.”
The doctor’s eyes widened. She turned to stare at me. She looked as if she might eat me, if I weren’t alive and uncooked. “That’s wonderful news,” she said. “Are we moving on, then? To something harder?”
“Right,” Mrs. Darit said. “This.” She placed a piece of paper, folded to look like a small dog, on the tray. “I want you to pick it up. Feel it, smell it, and listen to it. You’ll want to absorb anything you can sense about it to enhance your concentration. Okay? Go ahead.”
I picked up the dog. It was, of course, very lightweight. The paper felt slightly pulpy and rough; despite that, the folds and creases were sharply formed. The feet on the figure could bend slightly, and I felt the amount of pressure needed to make them flex. I ran my fingers over every contour, and—even though it seemed stupid—I lifted it to my nose and sniffed it. It smelled a bit like pine trees. I set it back on the tray. “I think I’m ready,” I said.
“All right. You can do this; I know you can. So, you’re going to move the dog from where it is to the left, across the tray, as far as you can. Okay? Are you ready? Let’s start.”
The dog welled up in my vision. It was the only thing in the world; I imagined my thoughts petting it, then pushing it across the table. The humming started. It grew to a crescendo much faster than before.
“The sound is just to enhance your concentration,” Mrs. Darit said. “Focus on the dog, not the sound.”
I glared at the dog. In my mind’s eye, it was running across the tray and bounding up to catch an imaginary stick thrown for it. But, the dog didn’t move. Frustrated, I collected my strength for another push. The buzzing had become a screeching; my brain pushed back against it, releasing its own sound back to the room. Several of the lab workers flinched or put their hands over their ears.
But, Mrs. Darit liked it. “That’s terrific, Nimisila. Focus that. Point that at the dog.” She said the last word in my head, and in a rush, I refocused and pushed with all my might. The dog flew across the tray and tumbled to the floor.
“Oh, my God,” the doctor said. “She did it.” She turned to me. “You moved the dog.”
I nodded, my mouth hanging open in disbelief.
“Okay, everyone. Thank you for your help today; I so appreciate your time. Thank you,” Mrs. Darit said to the lab workers, shooing them away. They peeled away from us in small clumps, their heads tilted together in silent conversation.
“Wait,” the doctor said. “We’re not done. There’s so much to do.” Her eyes looked a little bit wild. “We can’t stop for breaks now.”
“Nimisila needs to rest. Look at her; look at how tired she is. This is taking a lot out of her.”
I stared at the tray. I didn’t want to be the subject of open conversation while they were acting like I couldn’t hear them. “I want to do more,” I said, interrupting their bickering.
“You do?” Mrs. Darit said. “Aren’t you tired?”
I was, but this was nothing short of amazing. I wanted to flex this new muscle, strengthen it, and build it. I shook my head. “Not tired enough to stop,” I said.
“See? You’re coddling the girl. She knows her limits.”
“All right . . .” Mrs. Darit said. She drew out the word, as if she were still unsure. “If that’s what you want to do.”
“She’s already said that’s what she wants to do,” the doctor said. She bent and retrieved the dog from the floor. She placed it back on the tray. “This time, push it in the other direction.”
“Aren’t you going to call them back?” I said, gesturing to the last of the lab workers, straggling through the door.
Mrs. Darit shook her head. “No. You can do this without their help now.” She turned to the console. “Your brain was practically on fire right here, in the sensory cortex.” She touched something on the screen I couldn’t see. “All you need to do is remember how it felt and recreate that feeling. You don’t need them at all.”
“All right. Go ahead and try it,” the doctor said.
I focused on the dog and imagined how I’d felt when it flew across the tray before. An imaginary wave of invisible motion was going to pulse out of me and push the dog. I intensified my concentration, clenching every muscle in my body. But, nothing happened. I released a pent-up breath. “What’s wrong?” I asked. “Why can’t I move it now?”
“You can move it,” Mrs. Darit said. She gestured at the doctor. “She knows it. I know it. You know it. All those people who were just standing here knew it. All you have to do is repeat it.”
Something didn’t feel right about it, but I tried again. This time, I made the sound in my head—the sound that had helped me force my thoughts into a tiny slipstream, the sound that would raise the pressure and force of my thoughts and propel the dog . . .
But, it still didn’t move.
I tried again, and again, and again. The doctor’s shoulder’s slumped, and she moved away to a corner, studying me with narrowed eyes, while she picked at her cuticles. Mrs. Darit continued to encourage me. But, nothing I tried worked.
“I think I need the sound,” I said. “Can’t we try again with help from the others?”
Mrs. Darit frowned. “It’s getting late. You’re tired. You’ve tried very hard and made a lot of progress. I think we’re going to just call it a day. We don’t want to push you too hard, too soon.”
That seemed like odd phrasing, but I nodded. “Okay,” I said.
She removed the fobs and sensors. I climbed out of the chair and headed toward the door.
The doctor fell in beside me. She cupped my elbow with her hand—a rather friendly gesture, for someone like her. But, I didn’t pull away. “I want to thank you for all of the hard work you’ve been doing,” she said. “So, I want to give you a reward. Would you like a reward?”
I didn’t think she’d be able to offer me much, but I stupidly agreed. “Sure,” I said. “That’d be nice.”
She turned me down the hall, in the opposite direction from my room.
The lab door was still open, and Mrs. Darit called out, “That isn’t necessary yet!”
But, the doctor turned back. A snake of dread uncoiled in my gut, undulating and making me feel like I might vomit. The doctor didn’t slow down and didn’t give me the chance to give in to the sensation. “I’m going to show you how good you have it right now, and I want you to remember that. Understand? Things can get worse or better. It’s up to you.”
“I don’t understand,” I said.
“You will.”
We rounded a corner, and she opened a door. It was a lab, much like the one we’d just come from. Except, Elton was seated in the chair with the tray, instead of me. His hair was shaved, and metal screws were protruding from his scalp in a circle, around the crown of his head. When he saw me, his eyes widened. Nimisila, he said. I thought you were dead.
I’m fine, I said. What happened to you? What are they doing?
He started to cry.
The doctor shook my elbow. “Look at that. Don’t talk to it. But, look. See that? See those sensors in his head? See how his eyes are sunken and dark? See how he’s strapped into the chair?” She jabbed her forefinger of her free hand with each question, while her hand on my elbow jerked me around.
“I see it,” I said. I started to cry, then.
“No, you don’t. You don’t see it. I’ll show you.” She released me and stalked to the control panel.
“No, please,” Elton said. “Don’t! I’ll do whatever you want; I’ll try again—”
Then, he was screaming, as the doctor jabbed her finger
onto a button on the console. Elton’s mouth clamped shut, and he stiffened, the scream cut off with a sickening gurgle.
“What are you doing?!” I yelled. “Stop it; you’re hurting him!”
I ran over to the doctor and tried to pull her away, but she knocked me to the floor. “This is what you’re in for, got it? You better figure out how to get your power working again, or this is gonna be you—and soon.” She jerked her hand from the button.
Elton’s body relaxed—though his eyes were rolling in their sockets.
“Elton,” I scrambled up from the floor and went to his side. I grabbed his hand. “Elton, can you hear me? Are you all right?”
He didn’t answer.
“What did you do to him?” Tears were streaming down my cheeks. I leaned in close and tried to hug him.
The doctor took me by the back of the neck. “Take a hard look,” she said. “You see it?”
I nodded, unable to speak.
“Good. Let’s go.” She jerked me away from Elton and towards the door.
Mrs. Darit’s head was poked into the partially open door. Her expression was cold and neutral. There was no question now that Elton had been right: Mrs. Darit hated us.
Chapter 6
The doctor flung me into our room and closed the door. I heard the bolt click home. Talika was sitting on her bed, and when she heard the lock, her eyes widened, and she straightened her spine. “What did you do?” she asked.
I collapsed onto my own bed and buried my face in my pillow. It smelled damp, like a basement. My tears weren’t going to help that. I couldn’t answer Talika through my crying, and she dug her fingers into my shoulder and forced me to turn over and look at her. “What happened?”
“It’s Elton,” I managed to get out between snivels. “They’re torturing him.”
Her nose wrinkled up. “No they aren’t,” she said.
“I saw it, Tal. They’ve got him strapped to a chair, and when he doesn’t do what they want, they use the machine to hurt him. He begged them not to do it, and when they did, he screamed.” I covered my ears, not wanting to relive the sound. But, it came to me anyway.