by Nikita Spoke
But not tonight. For now…
“Good night, Jack” she sent, the connection opening immediately even though he took a moment to respond.
“Good night, Jemma,” he sent back, and with his voice still echoing in her mind, she finally fell asleep.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN:
Talk
When he came in at his normal time, Jack looked unsure, watching Jemma for her reaction. She smiled at him, and he visibly relaxed, making his way to the circulation desk.
“Hi,” he sent when he reached it.
“Hi,” Jemma sent back.
“I wasn’t sure whether I was supposed to come in today. I mean, I thought I was, and you’d seemed…” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Anyway, is this okay?”
She nodded, then looked around the room.
“Talking this way might not be, though,” she sent. “It looks like we’re just staring at each other.”
“Ah.” Jack set down his laptop and reached for the tablet.
Do we want to talk about things now? After work? If after work, do we need to keep quiet during the day? Or just act like normal?
She shrugged. I guess we act normal? she typed. I mean, I haven’t really had this happen before.
He nodded, still looking hesitant.
“It’s okay,” she sent, and he flicked his eyes up to hers. “We’ll figure it out. In the meantime, it doesn’t help either of us for you to be upset or worried about how I’m going to react. I already reacted. My head is on straight again, and it’s just a matter of figuring things out.” She paused, waiting for a response or a reaction. “You’re staring again.”
He blinked and a slow grin worked its way across his face. “You’re something, you know that?”
A librarian. One who should probably get back to work, she typed, and he looked back up at her, worried again until he saw the amusement still on her face.
He gave her a mock salute, retrieved his laptop, and made his way upstairs to his normal spot.
When her phone buzzed just minutes later, Jemma frowned and pulled it out of her pocket. She saw a text from her mom.
Just thinking about you today. I hope your day is going well.
Jemma released a breath before replying.
It is. I hope yours is, too.
She held the phone a minute longer to make sure it wasn’t going to vibrate again before putting it away.
A patron approached for help, and then another, and Jemma’s day picked up speed.
***
Fifteen minutes before closing time, which was earlier on Saturdays than the rest of the week, Jemma felt Jack hovering in her mind.
“You can come down. I think everyone’s left,” Jemma sent.
“Okay. There’s nobody up here. I’ll check downstairs for you,” he sent back.
“I could get used to a telepathic assistant,” she sent, letting humor show through her tone.
“That could definitely have its perks,” he sent, coming down the stairs. He grinned at her before turning to walk through the aisles of books.
By the time he finished and reached the circulation desk, Jemma had printed the last report, and she moved to the main door to check foot traffic. As she approached the door, a dark sedan sped out of the parking lot. She frowned but turned her attention back to the traffic counter, then returned to the desk and entered the total in the log book and the spreadsheet.
“Why do you write that down twice?” sent Jack. “I’ve noticed you usually note things either on the computer or on paper, but that’s the only number I’ve seen you write in both places.”
“Some years, the number of patrons who use the facility is how we get our funding,” answered Jemma, closing the book and putting it away. “That’s what Cecily told me, anyway. It seems we’re currently relying on circulation, but our budget has stayed in the same proportion to the other libraries for about five years. Since it could affect funding, though, we keep an electronic copy and a hard copy.” She held up one of her printouts. “Circulation gets a hard copy, too, just not handwritten.”
“Ah,” said Jack. “Those all sound like good reasons.”
Jemma nodded and put the papers where they belonged, then looked at the clock.
“We’re officially closed until Monday,” she sent. She watched him, the two of them silent. He looked tired, with bags under his eyes. He was too young for them to be permanent, so he probably hadn’t been sleeping well. She remembered him saying he’d been awake because of his dad.
“Should we go somewhere?” Jack’s mental voice broke into her thoughts, and Jemma blinked. “I mean,” he continued, “we were going to talk, so I didn’t know whether you wanted to just stay here or go somewhere else.”
“We probably shouldn’t stay here,” sent Jemma. “I don’t want to abuse employee privilege or anything.”
“Fair enough. Where do you want to go?”
Jemma came around the counter and he fell into step beside her as they made their way toward the double doors of the main entrance, stopping just inside.
“I don’t really have anywhere I like to go.” Jemma tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. “I mean, I’m here, or I’m home, or I’m at my parents’ house.” She looked away from the empty parking lot and toward Jack. “What about you? Anywhere you like to go when you’re not here or home?” she sent.
He grinned, but she thought she saw a hint of blush on his cheeks in the dim light. “You’re gonna think it’s weird, where I used to go to work when I didn’t come here.”
“Oh yeah? Where’s that?”
“The food court at the bigger mall.”
“And that’s where you went when you wanted to focus on something quiet?” Her head was tilted to the side as she tried to understand.
He rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah. Sometimes, when I’m working on something quiet and everything around me is quiet, it’s just too much, you know? I start getting distracted, looking for things to occupy me. But if I turn on music or a movie or something, I hear that more than the numbers and ideas and everything else I need to work with.”
“But the mall works?”
“Yeah. It’s sort of white noise, you know? At least before The Event, all the laughing and talking and shouting, that hum and clatter that’s so normal in big food courts and cafeterias.”
Jemma nodded. “I can see that. It’s easier to tune out a cafeteria crowd for reading than some other noises.”
“Exactly.” He paused, glancing at the parking lot and back at her. “Have you been to the mall since The Event?”
She shook her head.
“It’s bizarre,” he sent. “Is that where we want to go?”
“Sure,” she replied. “Meet you there?”
“See you again soon,” he sent, sounding almost excited.
They exited the building, and Jemma checked the locked door before they headed to their cars. When they were seated, car doors locked, Jack sent a message through the connection they hadn’t closed.
“This Talking is handy. I bet it helps for driving places together even with a normal range.”
“And no worries about being pulled over for not using a hands-free device.”
His warm chuckle echoed through her mind, and they left the empty parking lot behind.
***
They walked together from the parking lot to the food court entrance. The parking lot was fuller than she usually saw it, but she had always tried her best to avoid the mall on weekends. When they opened the doors, Jemma blinked repeatedly at the loud, cheery music playing over the speakers.
“It’s a little loud at first,” sent Jack, “but it sort of fades after a while. It was normal volume right after The Event, but then whoever controls the volume, they must’ve decided it was too quiet and cranked it up. It worked. People came here to get away from places that were too quiet. Then when people started using all the speaking apps, they turned it down again, but I had to walk back out after five minutes.”
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“Yeah?” They were standing inside the doors, out of the way of foot traffic. Jemma scanned the room and settled on one of the empty tables against some sort of decorative pillar. As they sat, Jack continued.
“All the different electronic voices clashing, people turning up their devices to be heard over everyone else’s? Almost as soon as it started, it ended up with everybody having their phones or tablets at max volume, and it was just a cacophony of sound. A hum, okay, I can deal with, but that was too much noise. At some point between that visit and my next, they’d cranked the music up loud enough that nobody would try to type over it. Now that people can Talk, the volume doesn’t seem to matter.”
Jemma realized that he was right; despite the excessive volume over which they should be shouting, Jack was speaking at a normal, conversational level, and she could understand him fine.
“I haven’t found any studies or anything, so this is just a guess,” he sent, “but I think it’s because it uses a different part of your brain than the music. You can still hear while staring at the sun, so why not?”
She nodded, her thoughts slowed some by the music. She looked around the room again and noticed that almost nobody had come alone. People were in groups of two or three, most with expressions on their faces that clearly indicated they were Talking to somebody, some moving their lips, others not.
“Anyone who’s watching can probably tell we’re Talking,” she sent.
“That’s true.” He thought for a moment. “They’ll probably assume we’re dating, or maybe related. Hopefully not both.” He winked. “I highly doubt anybody will assume we started Talking before we knew each other well and that we can Talk over long distances.” When she didn’t immediately respond, he continued. “We can pull out our phones if you’d feel better about pretending to type.”
“I’m fine with people knowing we’re Talking. I mean, at least strangers and family. I’m not so sure at work, since there might be people who know we’ve not spent a significant amount of time together.”
“Are you planning to tell your family?” he sent.
She felt her cheeks heat. “I already did, actually. Yesterday. They asked directly if I was Talking to somebody who wasn’t family, and I’ve never been comfortable lying. I didn’t tell them about any of the unique aspects, though.”
“Does that mean I can tell my dad? I haven’t lied to him, either, but I’ve avoided it.”
“I don’t mind.” She watched him, again noting how tired he looked. “How is your dad doing?”
“He’s been better.” She heard sadness in his tone, and some of the normal sparkle left his eyes. “He isn’t sleeping without medication, but the sleep aids interfere with some of the other stuff he has to take, so it’s a balancing act.”
“I’m sorry.” She placed her hand atop his, and he reached his thumb around to squeeze her hand lightly without turning his palm up. “Is he going to be all right?”
Jack lifted one shoulder. “The doctors are getting less optimistic the less time he spends healthy. He’s only had a couple good days since The Event.”
“Do you have any help?” she sent.
“There’s a nurse who stays with him when I’m not home. No other family, though. His friends seemed to stop trying after a few years.”
“I’m sorry,” she sent again.
His lips pulled up to one side. “I can hear you mean it, too. I get a lot more emotion Talking to you than I do from my dad.”
“Same, with me and my family, I mean.” Jemma retrieved her hand, pulling it back to her side of the table. “I can hear normal tone and such, but I haven’t felt emotion or images associated with it.”
“What other differences have you noticed so far?” He pulled out his phone and a small pen made for it and started scribbling notes.
“That feeling when we’ve been Talking or are about to Talk, like we’re connected. I don’t get that with my family.” She scrunched her nose. “It would make it easier to avoid the feedback, so I wish I could tell when someone was about to Talk or not yet done Talking.”
“I haven’t had the pleasure of experiencing that, but I’ve heard it’s pretty bad, so I was relieved it didn’t happen for us.” He held the pen still over the screen. “Can you describe how the connection feels? You’re better at turning things into words than I am.”
She thought for a moment, feeling her brow furrow. “It feels like I put a cool magnet on my head.” She looked at him. “Cool temperature, not content of the magnet.”
Jack grinned. “I figured. That does sound about right. Anything else?”
“Yeah. It reminds me of being on a phone when nobody’s talking,” she sent. “You can still tell the other person is there.”
“Do we have any idea of range?”
She shook her head. “I live about five minutes from the library. Ten if traffic’s bad.”
“Same. Different direction, though, I think.”
She tucked a hair behind her ear and watched him write. “I’m not used to somebody else taking notes.”
“Ah, yes. You enjoy research. You want to take over?” He held his phone out to her, but she shook her head again.
“I’ve got my own methods and got a file started this morning. I’ll email you what I’ve got,” she sent.
“Okay. It’s the same as my messenger screen name, at Gmail.”
“Sounds good,” she sent. Quiet fell, their connection almost tangible.
“What’s next, then?” he asked.
“For right now? Or after we do what research we can without telling anyone?”
“Both?” he sent.
“Well,” she sent, “I think after we figure out what we already know, we should test limits. Distance, what we can communicate, that sort of thing. Figure out what we can do.”
“That sounds like a good plan,” he sent, glancing at the nearest clock. “For now, why don’t we grab something to eat and talk as if everything had gone back to normal?”
Her stomach growled as if on cue, and she grinned even though she knew he’d been unable to hear it. “Food sounds perfect. What’s good here?”
“There are plenty of samples.” He waggled his eyebrows and stood. “Let’s find out.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN:
Why Us
Jemma glanced around her living room one more time, then went to answer the door. Seeing Jack, laptop case slung over one shoulder, she waved for him to come in.
“How are you this afternoon?” he asked.
“Same as I was when you asked twenty minutes ago.” Jemma smiled and gestured to the couch, which was the closest piece of furniture to her computer desk.
“Sorry,” he sent. “I’m not used to making social research visits at the houses of women I can speak to telepathically. I’m sure there’s some sort of protocol.”
“Probably.” She smiled again. Jack sat on the couch, and Jemma sat at her desk, opening up the Google Docs file she’d shared with him the night before. Next to her, Jack opened his laptop, resting it on his legs. “Okay,” Jemma continued. “Did you have any questions about what I’ve put together so far?”
“Nope,” he sent, joining her in the shared document. “Pretty much matches up with what I wrote down yesterday.”
“I started a list of things we should try,” she sent.
“Great! I always wanted to start a bucket list.”
Jemma laughed, letting him hear it. “A bucket list was on your bucket list?”
“Does that make some sort of inescapable paradox?”
“It’s possible.”
She looked at the list in front of her.
•Distance limit?
•Can we block?
•Conversion to physical - telekinesis?
•Subliminal messaging - send messages without other aware?
•Try Talking to another person.
•Some emotion can be sent - how much?
•Try sending images again - does relaxation make a di
fference (as when asleep)?
•Physical contact - does it amplify or make anything easier?
Jack added another item.
•Try Talking to someone the other can Talk to.
Jemma nodded and spun her chair so she was facing toward Jack.
“Anything else?” she sent.
He shook his head. “It’s a good list.”
“We can’t do all of these here, but we can start going through them,” Jemma sent.
“Okay. Blocking first?”
Jemma nodded. “I’ll focus on keeping you out, and you try to Talk to me. I’ll hold up a finger when I’m ready.”
“Yes ma’am,” he said with a salute.
She closed her eyes and focused on silence, on walls and solid concrete surrounding the quiet, and then held up a finger.
Silence. She could feel pressure against her “wall,” slight but noticeable. The pressure grew more insistent, then lessened again. She felt a hand taking hers, gentle, hesitant.
“Jemma?” His mental voice echoed within the created walls, and she opened her eyes, dropping her focus, seeing Jack standing directly in front of her, his brown eyes watching her carefully.
“I heard nothing until you touched me,” she sent.
He dropped her hand. “Your turn,” he sent, closing his eyes as she had.
“Jack,” she sent, and he opened his eyes, frowning.
“I still heard you,” he sent. “What did you do to keep me out?”
“I focused on the silence, and I pictured a wall around my mind.”
He nodded and closed his eyes again. She gave him a few seconds before trying.
“Jack?” This time, the feel of their connection was almost nonexistent, the echo of her words in her own mind lessened significantly. She tried again, louder, and he furrowed his brow but didn’t open his eyes. She reached out and took his hand, squeezing it. “Jack?”
He opened his eyes. “It’s like when there’s physical contact, the wall isn’t even there.”