The Doorkeeper's Mind

by E. L. Morrow

  “You’ve seen some of the entertainment shows about psychics, magicians, or mind-readers and how the words pop out of their surroundings—visually or orally?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, I guess you could call it ‘expanded thought,’ like a computer menu—you click it and find a drop-down list. My lists are not in one direction.”

  After several more minutes it becomes clear that the subject uses an entirely different way of processing information.

  Allison asked, “How many questions do you think you answered correctly?”

  “All.”

  “But three times, while you were answering you stopped and went back to a previous answer and changed it. You had answered them wrong the first time but corrected it. How did you do that?”

  “The questions are constructed in a very logical progression. While answering questions, I realized details overlooked before. All my life I’ve heard that you learn things by taking tests. Well, this time it’s true.

  “After answering the first thirty or so questions, you realize that there are more than the five ‘peoples’ named in the story. And it is the sixth that disrupts the status quo or returns. The ‘unnamed group’ is the most spiritual of all—and uses all its emotional energy to create balance and interdependence.”

  Later in the afternoon Marie journals.

  I now understand how easy things have been for me—about learning. My mind works differently from others. I retain what I learn more efficiently, it seems, because each idea fits with other concepts. If it doesn’t, like my dream telling me how to open a locked SOG, I put it away but I don’t discard it.

  They told me I have seven new brain centers not found in other humans. Dr. W’s grandmother had three such additional neuron clusters. She must have been HMP. He never mentioned the term.

  They’ve numbered the clusters in my brain. They are arranged in a spiral. Some are close to others laterally, as well as vertically. In the baseline test, done back in December, Allison said four centers “light up like a Christmas tree” while I’m reading energy trails. They were numbers 1, 3, 5 & 6. Now that I can read thoughts, but not energy trails the active ones are 1, 4, & 6.

  Their conclusion is the current most active three are building new neuro-pathways toward 3 and 5, but not each other and not 7. Three and five seem to have something to do with reading energy trails and four with interpreting thoughts.

  The other good news is that when I was doing the IQ thing, all seven extra ganglia were firings. They think that means—three and five are not permanently shut-down.

  One other thing I must put down, so I can stop obsessing about it. Dr. W thinks I’m the next development in human evolution. He said, “you are as different from me—mentally—as I am from the Neanderthals.” He also said I should have as many offspring as possible—he thinks I’m 24 in the center of my most productive years for procreation. Allison mentioned doing an ovum harvest. I’m just not sure. I think I want to bear a child—stretch marks and all. But how could I care for a child with all that everyone else is expecting of me? There is still time. That decision can wait.

  On a cheerier note, I have loved the extra hours with A. and Dr. C. I asked if he has a significant other. The answer was a clear NO. He could hardly keep his mind on his work while placing sensors on my back. I’m unsure if he is just attracted to my body or something more. I could come to like him. More later.

  Forty-Two

  A Birthday Trip

  2095-08-01, Monday, 4:20 am

  “Good Morning, Marie. Are you up for the day?”

  “Correct. Good morning, Friend. You’ve learned my habits.”

  “Thank you. Are you ready for your overnight messages?”

  “Yes. If you must …”

  “Your standard messages from WEEL, eleven comments to your blog, and one message from Dr. Ward.”

  “Read the one from Allison, please.”

  “’Marie. Can you take a week off around your birthday? Say the sixth through the twelfth? I’m planning a birthday surprise, but it involves a road trip.’ End of message.”

  After checking her calendar, she instructs the Personal Assistant to send the following response:

  “I need to be in Toronto on the fourteenth. STL events most of the next week—through the twentieth. If we can work around those dates. Okay?”

  A few hours later they decide that April will rent a car and pick up A. Fulbright at the Eisenhower airport at 10:00 am August 6th. She will be packed for a week, including hiking clothes and shoes. Rudy and Danzella will make the security arrangements.

  2095-08-06, Saturday

  Off on an adventure. Heading east, Allison tells Marie, “We’ll spend the night on the road, and arrive tomorrow during the day. I’ll tell you our destination in the morning.”

  “You think this is a place I might not want to go?”

  “No. There will be questions once you know where we’re going. Of course, you could always read my thoughts to find out. I hope we can have a day to catch up. A lot has happened, and I seem to hear only bits and pieces. I want you to fill the gaps, if possible.”

  “Sounds good to me. As long as you aren’t trying to be matchmaker, I can wait.”

  “Like I could make a match for you—I can’t take the time to pursue one for myself.”

  “So, how are things between you and Dr. Norris?”

  The next several hours they talk about Marie’s Supervisor, who was attracted to Allison long before she mated. The romance rekindled when Abraham Norris, Rudy, Allison, Marie, and others tried to find out what happened to the previous Doorkeeper of Wichita sector 86. He had been declared dead and placed in a viewing chamber; however, Phillip was in a deep coma to be awakened later.

  They also talk about Marie’s involvement in the Stop-the-Lies movement and WEEL’s production of Compact Kitchens. Allison expresses frustration with the research seeking a solution to the seven deadly viruses making their way toward the human population.

  Dr. Fulbright says, “We are looking at the latest mutations of strains that have hundreds if not thousands of prior formations. We need to find previous iterations of the diseases, so we can determine how they developed, but all previous forms seem to have been eliminated. The computer models take us back one way, but reverse bio-engineering gives us a very different result. In neither case can we go back more than five to ten generations.”

  “What if each new form is innately programmed to devour the previous organism?”

  “Wait a minute. You may be on to something. What was it? I remember … it was a poisonous frog, in the rainforest, I think. Each new form was less vulnerable to outside attack—so it ate all the previous generation. But not until there were adequate numbers to reproduce.”

  After two hours a notification comes over the car communicator: “Attention. All traffic must exit at the next recharging station.” Friend reports, “robots are clearing the roadway 30 miles ahead.”

  While stopped they have lunch. Sandwiches, potato salad, and soft drinks—picnic food packed by Marie from her home. Danzella, who is following in a separate car, joins them. Before the journey resumes, a total of seven vehicles gather, and an hour passes.

  With fully charged batteries, they depart at 1:20 in a convoy of sorts: six cars and one panel-truck, containing plumbing supplies. All had been checked out by Marie’s security chief, and her Automated Personal Assistant. The trip continues, as does the conversation.

  They talk about Lexie and what an excellent Doorkeeper she is becoming. Marie says, “She is addressing her guilt about what happened to Vivi’s nephews and their girls. As her mentor, I receive her counselor’s reports. Like me—she’s a perfectionist. Unlike me, she maintains friendships from school. But now, she’s isolating herself from her friends, or talking only about surface stuff. I believe Lexie’s unwilling to let her friends see her having trouble. Since she can’t tell them what’s causing her tr
ouble, this might be the best way.

  “She’s having a hard time with her perception that my loss of energy-reading ability is her fault.”

  “Is it?”

  “It’s mostly my fault. I knew I had to vacate Chuck’s mind. I didn’t act quickly enough. Dealing with his sadistic enjoyment of other’s pain and needing to fight him exhausted me. I should have tried to draw back to myself. If I had been in his energy pulling away would’ve been easier. No one, as far as I know, has ever been in another’s mind to keep them from committing a murder. I couldn’t jump back into his energy—it was focused on killing. I searched for someplace closer.

  “As I’ve relived those moments, it seems … I feared bringing back some of Glandmore’s violence and hate into my mind. Plus, it never occurred to me that the stunners hitting him would also strike me—14 miles away.”

  They talk about Marie’s depression—improving slowly; her sexuality issues; and her Doctoral studies. Allison shares their latest hypothesis from the study of Marie’s brain activity.

  “We believe your energy reading will return the next time you are faced with a trauma or dangerous situation. Some of the neuro-centers in your brain are still a mystery. But we are sure that one, three and five are involved in your energy reading. Number one is also involved when you read thoughts.”

  Finally, they talk about the idea that Marie might agree to a harvesting of her eggs. This would allow offspring born by surrogates so her intellect would not be lost to future generations.

  “My concern,” says Marie, “is that I may find a mate and want to birth a child naturally. What complications might an earlier harvest cause?”

  “Dr. Winder thinks you are older. We had to keep some information from him, in case his files are compromised. You can take up to five years to decide. Earlier would be better, but not for a couple of years.”

  “Okay, that helps. Another concern is what all the hormones might do to my mind. Also, I could produce 35 eggs for offspring within a year. How would you find that many donors, surrogates, and adoptive parents? And what about follow-up with the children? I guess I have lots of questions.”

  “It would create a logistics challenge. But we … well it will probably be you more than me. We’ll figure it out.”

  They stop for the evening at a roadside motel, just beyond Joplin, Missouri. Marie dons her April disguise. She will return to Joplin in a couple of months for a Stop-the-Lies event. Marie wears a delimiter designed to distort any photos taken of her. But why take any chances of being recognized?

  Forty-Three

  Are You My Brother?

  South of Joplin, Missouri

  2095-08-07, Sunday, 6:30 am

  The wake-up call from Friend comes over Marie’s communicator at 6:30 am. They intended to leave by 7:15 taking breakfast to go.

  Allison says, “Okay, I promised to tell you our destination this morning. Are you ready?”

  “The suspense is intriguing. I’ve come up with several ideas of where we may be going.”

  “Is meeting your brother one of them?”

  “Oh, my Lord in heaven! Are you kidding?”

  “Well, I hope not. Rudy traced down a person we think is your half-brother. There are a couple of gaps in his history. Currently, he lives completely off the grid, in an Unstructured State—so we won’t know until we find and talk to him.”

  “Then he’s not expecting us?”

  “No. I doubt he’s aware of the possibility of two half-sisters. No one could reach him. Rudy had an operative check out the area and provided directions to the general area where he lives and works.”

  “What kind of work does he do? How can he be a recluse with a job in a Non-Plan state?”

  “He raises purebred dogs for a companion animal service or search and rescue operations. Every three months he tells his client organizations how many and which breeds will be available next month. They get back to him, and he meets them in one of several towns to exchange the dogs for his payments.”

  The two women, desiring not to stand out from the locals, are donning non-protective garments while talking. Room service delivers their meals packaged to go. They are out the door at five after seven. Danzella meets them at their cars, having already conducted a complete security scan of both vehicles. The route and surrounding area had also been checked for possible delays, weather, or security issues. Danzella says, “Until we reach Nathaniel I suggest Marie, and I use aliases.” It is agreed that Marie is April, and Danzella becomes Dannie.

  While traveling, Allison tells April what little is known about Nathaniel (or Nate) Trenton. “His adoptive father, if he’s still living, is Dr. Andrew Trenton, professor of Mathematics. Dropped out of higher education and basically disappeared. Andrew resurfaced as a teacher in secondary school, and a farmer.

  “Nothing about Andrew’s mate is available including gender, name, or living or dead.

  “Likewise, nothing is certain about Nathaniel’s education, or where he has lived. Rudy believes he attended college and some veterinary medical school—probably on another continent.”

  “So, we may not be welcome?”

  “True,” says Allison. “I’m counting on your charm to open the door for us.”

  At two in the afternoon, they stop at a bait-and-tackle shop to attempt to confirm their final directions.

  The place is rustic, with guns and decapitated animal heads hanging on the walls. The counter at the back of the store contains ammunition for firearms, and tobacco products, all in locked glass-front cases.

  Two younger men are sitting on upturned kegs in the corner of the store, playing checkers. The only other person in the store is behind a counter. After picking up a few snack items and bringing them to the cash register, Allison asks, “Can you direct me to Nathaniel Trenton’s place?”

  “What business you got with him?”

  “Private.”

  “If you’re here to pick up a dog, he should’ve told you where to meet him.”

  “I said, our business is private.”

  The more raggedly dress checkers player leaves the game to come over and stands next to April, who is three steps behind Allison. He says, “Well, whatever you want from ole nutty Nate, you can get from me—a hoe-lot better.” While speaking he put his left arm around her waist, preparing to pull her closer to his side.

  Dannie steps up from behind saying, “If you value that arm, I suggest you remove it, apologize, and go back to your game.”

  He turns to look at the newcomer and says, “Well, what are you gonna’ do if’n I don’t?”

  “Not me. Her! You ever heard of Stu-Put-Do-Fuse self-defense?”

  “Don’t think so. We go more for blow-a-hole-in-the-head style around here.” His checker playing buddy laughs loudly at his friend’s apparent wit.

  “She’s a master of mental defense. I wouldn’t cross her.”

  April understands what is being suggested. She turns and pushes the man away from her. As he starts back toward her with his arms outstretched. Marie slips into his thoughts, and throws his arms straight up over his head and behind him causing him to lean backward. Losing his balance, he falls flat on his back.

  April says, “Now stay down. If you stand, I might have to hurt something other than your pride.” The other checker player dashes to his friend, knocking over the board in the process. In a stage whisper, he asks his friend, “What the hail did she do to ya?”

  The one struggling up from the floor pushes his friend away and says, “Leave me be. Get the fu…”

  Dannie interrupts, “Uh oh, now you done it! She hates foul language. I suggest you dash across the road in ten seconds, or what you got between your legs ‘ll fall off.” The one from the floor scrambles up, and they both run out the door like a tiger is chasing them.

  Allison is nearly doubled over with laughter. Watching them leave April says, “runs like a girl.”

  “That’s not
actually an insult since girls hold all the world records for speed and distance.”

  “My point. Checkers should not be the height of his achievements.”

  The show being over the man behind the counter eagerly gives direction to “Nate’s place.”

  Using a map, he points out landmarks at turnoffs. “You will come to a parking area at the end of this road. Three paths leave the spot. You want the one that leads to the highest spot on the mountain. Be careful; he can be unfriendly.”

  They thank him and leave a significant tip.

  Once outside April asks Dannie, “What is Stu-Put-Do-Fuse? Oh, now I hear it … ‘stupid doofus.’”

  Dannie smiles and says, “I’m kind of proud of that.”

  “Rightly so Ma’am,” April responds while tipping a non-existent hat in her direction.

  About 3:30 pm, the three of them walk up the path toward a cluster of undergrowth and trees. They had been walking nearly 20 minutes in silence.

  A booming voice comes from somewhere up ahead, “Stop where you are! If you value your lives, don’t take another step… Don’t move a muscle!”

  Allison says, “We’re looking for Nathaniel Trenton.”

  A man begins to emerge from the foliage with a rifle in his hands with a high-powered scope attached. He says, “Did my uncle send you?”

  April says, “I think you are my half-brother.”

  The man says, “Stay perfectly still, don’t jump.”

  The first shot strikes four inches from April’s left foot, severing the snake’s head. The second three feet behind her. The third and final shot is three and one-half feet behind Allison and an inch from Dannie’s right foot. The man surveys the area around them with his telescopic lens, and announces, “all the others retreated. I’m out of antivenom, so I had to keep you from getting bitten. Copperhead bites are deadly.”