Cyberian Affair

by Mark A Pryor

  This morning, Viktor completed a series of medical tests at Alcalá University Hospital, near Madrid. After lunch, his parents accompanied him to the office of Doctor Moreno, the most respected neurologist in Spain.

  As they pulled up to the curb, Viktor reminded himself to use the name Oliver Klima, the false identity for his medical appointments. He hated the deception, but he knew there was a risk the doctors could discover his illegal treatments, putting his parents in jeopardy.

  Viktor stepped out of the taxi and opened the door for his mother.

  Magda reached for her son’s hand and winked. “You’re looking handsome today, Oliver.”

  “Thank you, Mother.” Viktor helped her out of the car.

  They entered the modern three-story office building and headed for the elevator. Viktor knew his way. He had been coming here for two years. This was his fourth visit, and he hoped it would be his last.

  The ‘Klima family’ arrived in the reception area and were directed to the doctor’s office where a gray-haired man, wearing a white lab coat, met them at the door. “Buenas tardes.”

  Magda responded in English. “It’s good to see you again, Doctor Moreno.”

  The doctor directed them to the chairs in front of his desk while he took the seat behind it. He glanced at his computer. “I have your test results, Oliver.” He looked at Magda and continued, “If you have any questions, Doctor Klima, let me know.”

  Moreno glanced at the file. “Let me begin with Oliver’s vision.”

  Viktor pointed to the small black patch covering his left eye. His curly black hair was long enough to cover the remaining scar on his temple. “I see nothing with this eye.”

  The doctor nodded. “The damage to your optic nerve blocks the information between your left eye and your brain. But, you seem to have adapted well to the limitations of your vision.”

  Viktor’s blind eye never improved after the attack, and he had difficulty judging distances with a single functioning eye. Despite this, his parents always requested tests, hoping the stem cells could produce another miracle.

  He rubbed his scar. Something he often did when nervous. “I see well enough, but I hate it when people stare at my patch.”

  “I’m sure your friends and family are used to it. Would you prefer they look at your lazy eye?”

  Viktor shook his head and looked at his father. “No, it looks creepy. I prefer the patch.”

  Eduard spoke up. “He’s had eye muscle repair surgery. Both eyes moved together properly for a while, but within a few months they lost the synchronous movement.”

  The doctor nodded. “That’s a common problem with complete vision loss in the eye.”

  “What about the MRI?” asked Magda.

  Moreno turned the computer screen so Viktor and his parents could view it. He pointed with his pen. “On this image, you can see the empty area on the left where the injury occurred. That area is smaller than it was on the scans from previous years.”

  Viktor studied the image. It was comforting to know the stem cells were still working to heal his brain, but they couldn’t let the doctor know the reason for this miraculous growth. Fortunately, his mother knew how to handle this.

  Magda nodded. “You mentioned this during our last appointment, but you said we should wait to see how things developed over the next six months.”

  “That’s right, and the damaged section has continued to shrink every six months since our first MRI. We don’t know if the same thing happened during the time Doctor Durant was treating Oliver. Those scans weren’t conclusive due to the surgical procedures he performed.”

  Durant. He had been the French doctor Viktor first went to after the stem cell treatments ended. Four times during those three years, a tumor formed and he needed surgery. When Durant’s questions threatened to uncover the illegal treatments, his mother decided to change doctors.

  Eduard shrugged his shoulders. “Is this a problem, Doctor? Isn’t it good to see the area of his injury shrink?”

  “In any other part of the body, healing like that would be a good sign. But neurogenesis, the growth of healthy nerve cells, has never been observed in the temporal lobe of any adult brain. The good news is, we haven’t detected any growth of unhealthy nerve cells during the entire two years I’ve been seeing Oliver.”

  Nothing unhealthy. That’s what Viktor wanted to hear. Two years. Nothing wrong. No more tests!

  Magda took her husband’s hand and looked at the doctor. “Are you telling us Oliver has gone two years with no malignant growths, and you’re concerned because you suspect his brain is creating healthy cells?”

  “That’s right. But this kind of new cell growth is unheard of, and I’d like to do some tests.”

  Magda nodded and rose from the chair. “Thank you, Doctor. We’ll have to think this over. Could you give us copies of the results?”

  Viktor and his father stood, preparing to leave.

  “Certainly, Doctor Klima. The nurse will give them to you on your way out. But I need to tell you about the results of the electroencephalogram.”

  “The EEG? Did you find something?” Magda took her seat again. Eduard and Viktor did the same.

  “Oliver’s results are normal … except for one thing. His brain waves have a higher amplitude than normal — about ten times the average person.”

  This was nothing new to Viktor or his parents. Doctor Durant noticed this anomaly, too. His mother believed this was most likely a symptom of his newly acquired ability — one they must keep secret.

  He had first noticed this ability a year after a man plunged a knife into his head. Whenever Viktor’s mother was near him, he knew whether she was happy or sad. The same thing happened with his father, his friends — everyone. Eventually, he realized he was sensing other peoples’ feelings.

  Magda raised her eyebrows. “You said Oliver’s EEG results are normal, but you’re concerned because his brain waves are stronger than expected?”

  “That’s right. The brain consumes more energy than any other organ in the body. Oliver’s brain demands even more.”

  “Is that a problem?”

  “We can’t be sure without more testing.”

  “More testing.” Magda frowned, then stood. “All right. If you think it’s required. We’ll set up an appointment with your receptionist.”

  Viktor knew she would agree to the appointment, like she did with Doctor Durant. But he also knew they weren’t coming back. They’d never see Dr. Moreno again. To do so would only draw attention.

  ****

  A few hours later, two blocks from the university hospital, the Prazsky family finished dinner in their hotel and went upstairs for the night.

  Viktor sat on his bed talking on the phone with Karla. The door leading to his parents’ adjoining room was closed. “We’re heading home tomorrow. I’ll be back at school on Friday.”

  He had met Karla the previous fall, when they began their sophomore year at Charles University in Prague. Two months ago, in January, they started dating. They became almost inseparable, getting together or talking on the phone every day, sharing their dreams and aspirations.

  There was one passion, however, that Viktor had never shared with Karla, and he wanted to tell her now. She knew he spent time at the gym, but he hadn’t explained what he did there. “I’m taking my black belt test next week. Would you like to come?”

  “Black belt?” Karla sounded surprised. “You’re a black belt?”

  “Taekwondo. It’s a Korean form of karate. I’ll be a black belt when I pass the test. People often bring their family and friends to watch.”

  “That sounds exciting. When is it?”

  “Wednesday evening. It’s at a gym close to Prague Castle.”

  “I’d love to. Is the testing hard? Are you nervous?”

  “I used to be nervous when I tested for lower-level belts, but not anymore. It’s just a matter of demonstrating what I’ve practiced.”

  Viktor’s thoughts
drifted back six years to the terrible day on the streets of Prague with Delia. That day he had been helpless against those men, and he never wanted to experience that again. When he started Taekwondo, the moves came easily to him, even though his non-functioning eye proved to be a challenge. His limited vision, however, was offset by the strength of his newly acquired sensitivity to emotions. He realized he could detect his opponent’s intentions almost before they did, making his defensive reflexes lightning fast. If anyone ever threatened Viktor today, he knew he could defend himself.

  Karla’s voice brought him back to the present. “I can’t wait to see you do your karate stuff.”

  Viktor heard the faint sound of a second female voice talking to Karla.

  “My aunt just arrived. I gotta go. See you in school Friday.”

  Ending the call, Viktor hopped off the bed and knocked on the door before walking into his parents’ room.

  His mother turned to greet him. “You get taller every day, and better looking, too. I’m glad you could join us.”

  Viktor plopped in an overstuffed chair and faced the television. “I’m packed, and it’s boring sitting in my room.”

  “Make yourself comfortable,” his father said with a chuckle. “Did you lose your razor?”

  “It’s the five o’clock shadow look, Father. Women love it.”

  Magda rubbed Eduard’s cheek. “Not this woman. Too scratchy.” She turned back to her son. “How does Karla like it?”

  “She thinks I’m hot.”

  His father poured drinks, dark Alhambra lager for himself and Viktor, and a glass of Àn Tinto wine for Magda. “We have something to celebrate.”

  They all raised their glasses.

  Eduard offered a toast. “To our son. Two years. No tumors.”

  Viktor took a drink, savoring the flavor, and set his glass on the coffee table. “No more tests. No more doctors.”

  His mother smiled. “It’s a good idea to go for testing every five years or so, just to be sure.”

  Viktor was a keen observer of body language. His mother’s smile was broad and genuine, showcasing her pearly white teeth. Her eyes were radiant. But he also sensed her emotions, something she didn’t show on her face. “You’re worried about my brain waves. The EEG results.”

  “I can’t hide anything from you,” said his mother. “Even though you appear to be healthy, I worry. The doctor might be right. Your brain uses so much energy, it could be harming you.”

  “You mean my headaches, don’t you?”

  Eduard set his glass on the nightstand. “I’m no doctor, and I can see it. Those aren’t normal headaches.”

  Viktor worried about it, too. Sometimes he got so dizzy he nearly passed out. “It only happens when I get upset. I’ve learned to control it.” There were also things he hadn’t told his parents, like how his vision often suffered — objects became blurry, and sometimes he saw double. The thought of losing sight in his only healthy eye was frightening.

  His mother nodded. “I hope you’re right.”

  Viktor looked at his father. “What is it? I can tell something’s bothering you.”

  “That’s the problem. You can tell. You know too much about other peoples’ thoughts.” Eduard reached out and held Magda’s hand. “You can’t let anyone know what you’re capable of.”

  “I don’t care what the EEG shows.” Viktor tugged nervously at the edge of his eye patch. “I can’t read minds.”

  Magda looked at her son. “We never said you could read minds. But sensing someone else’s emotions is unusual.”

  His father shook his head. “This is serious. Do you want people to be afraid of you? You scare the wrong people, and you could be locked up — or worse.”

  Viktor didn’t share his father’s concern about sensing feelings. He stood up and scratched his scar. “I’m going to bed. What time is our flight tomorrow?”

  “Eleven o’clock,” said his father. “But we need to catch the seven o’clock commuter train to Madrid. It’s a short walk to the train station, but we have to leave early.”

  “Do they serve breakfast on the train?”

  “We can get something at the station — maybe juice or a pastry. When we get to the airport, we’ll have time to eat a real meal.”

  Magda took her husband’s hand. “Remember. We have a dinner date tomorrow night.”

  “Oh, that’s right,” said Viktor. “March eleventh. Happy Anniversary in advance.”

  ****

  In the early morning, Viktor shoved his gloved left hand into the pocket of his winter coat as he pulled his luggage with the other. Alcalá Station was only a hundred meters away.

  His father wrapped one arm around Magda as he pulled their bag with the other. “You’ll warm up once we get inside the station.”

  “I know.” Magda wore a cashmere coat, with a scarf wrapped around most of her face. “Which train are we looking for?”

  “There are a lot of trains to Madrid. We’re going to the same station we used yesterday on our way here — Atocha.”

  Warm air welcomed them when they entered and headed toward the lighted board displaying train schedules. Viktor was still learning how to cope with his sensitivity to emotions. The man to his right was excited, but the woman with him was worried, and she held the hand of a young girl who was confused. Their emotions, as well as the emotions of everyone else within a ten-meter circle, assaulted his mind from all directions, as though everyone was yelling at once.

  He recognized the ‘emotional signatures’ of his parents, but the feelings of the strangers around him seemed to blend together. All except for one person whose emotions screamed for attention.

  Hatred. He sensed intense feelings coming from someone in front of him. He studied the people until he was fairly certain he knew who it was.

  He looked at his father and pointed ahead to the left, about two meters away. “The man with the blue hoodie is angry at everyone. More hate than I’ve ever felt before. And he’s struggling with a heavy gym bag.”

  “He probably doesn’t like crowds. Keep moving. Tell me when you see which platform our train leaves on.”

  “You don’t understand, Father. I’ve gotta stop him.”

  Viktor’s sensitivity to feelings often proved to be an advantage, but it would be of no use in stopping this dangerous person. He’d have to intrude into the man’s emotions – another ability he acquired from his illegal medical treatment. It wouldn’t be easy. And then there were the headaches.

  The man in the hoodie was close but moving away. Viktor had to act fast. He focused on the strong hateful emotion, then he amplified the intensity and projected it back. He could sense the increase in hatred coming back from this man. It worked. Viktor had control.

  He shifted the emotion from hate to fear and then terror. He concentrated on strengthening it as much as possible. Suddenly, pain struck Viktor like a hammer, right in the center of his forehead. It was the headache that always came, punishing him for his strong emotions. My curse. He wasn’t even sure if his efforts paid off.

  Fortunately, they did. The man he targeted let out a scream, dropped his bag, and clutched his head with both hands.

  Viktor’s eye moved from the man to the bag on the floor. Two wires, red and green, hung out of the side. Ignoring the pain in his head, he shoved the suspicious satchel out of the man’s reach with his foot and yelled. “¡Bomba!”

  He sensed his mother’s fear and saw it in her face. His mind must have affected her as well, but not as much as the man with the bomb.

  Screams erupted from the crowd. Everyone tried to get away.

  Eduard grabbed Magda by the arm and yelled, “Let’s get out of here. Now!”

  Viktor sensed the fear from his parents and the people nearby. I did this. Caused their fear. He concentrated on calming himself. As he did, his headache began to subside.

  The man in the hoodie must have recovered as well. He leaned over and reached for the bag.

  The bomb!
Viktor raised his right knee, pivoted toward the man, and delivered a round kick to the elbow. He won’t pick it up now. Momentum sent the man to the ground, falling on his injured arm.

  Eduard grabbed Viktor. “Let’s move!”

  The shrill sound of a whistle announced the arrival of two police officers. One of them ran over to the man lying on the ground. The other one inspected the fallen gym bag.

  Viktor’s vision blurred, and he felt dizzy. Nevertheless, he did his best to follow his parents as they moved away from the officers.

  His father pointed to the overhead board. “There’s ours — Atocha Station on platform two.”

  As they waited in line to access the platform, an official closed the gate.

  “Atención! Atención!” a man’s voice bellowed over the public-address system. “Alcalá de Henares Security orders everyone to leave the station immediately. All trains have been cancelled. Repeat. Everyone leave the station immediately.”

  Angry voices erupted throughout the station. Men and women turned toward the exits, pulling their children with them.

  As Eduard approached the exit, he leaned close to Viktor and kept his voice low. “Did you make him drop the bag?”

  Viktor thought his father was unaware of this part of his ability. “I had to. I’m sure he had a bomb.” He ignored the weakness that followed his headaches. Fortunately, his vision began to clear.

  They exited the station and his father pressed him further. “How’d you do it?”

  He knows. Mother must know, too. Viktor had no idea how to explain it. “With my mind. Something else I have to keep secret.”

  “Whatever you did, it affected me, too.”

  “Atención! Atención!” The announcement was repeated.

  “What do we do now,” asked Magda. “We’ll miss our flight.”

  Viktor heard someone mention bomb, but he didn’t hear any explosion. He pulled out his phone and searched for news. “Holy shit!” He looked up at his parents’ concerned faces. “Bombs exploded on trains all over Madrid. They hit Atocha Station. A lot of people died … dozens.”

  “Atocha Station?” said his father. “That was our stop! We would have been there if we hadn’t missed our train.”