The Elders

by Dima Zales

  I proceed to tell him a carefully censored version of the truth, which includes the fact that I’m the grandson of two of the Enlightened. I explain that they want something from me and outline the lengths they’ve gone to get it. I don’t talk about the Super Pusher, however, since there’s still a small chance it could be Frederick. And even if it isn’t him, it could be someone he’s close to.

  “So I hope you see why I couldn’t tell this to the others,” I say in conclusion. “Given the status the Enlightened have with the rest of the Readers, what I want isn’t exactly compatible with the task you people want to give me.”

  “So what did you think we could do for you?” he asks, then peers at the Rubik’s cube in his hand. It’s randomized, the colors all misaligned. Apparently satisfied, he offers it to me on the palm of his hand.

  I cautiously reach for the puzzle. “As you know, I found out that I can reach Nirvana, as you call it. But I only did it once under severe duress and haven’t repeated the feat since. If I could do it at will, I could make my grandparents release everyone without having to resort to violence. So, in a way, if you teach me—”

  “No,” Frederick says as I take the cube. “I will not arm you with such knowledge. It’s a power too great for someone as young and inexperienced as you. It would be criminally negligent of me.”

  “So earning your trust wasn’t very helpful after all.” I don’t bother hiding my disappointment this time. I had been really hoping talking to Frederick would get me closer to my goal. As I consider what to do next, I glance at the cube, then back at him, wondering what he wants me to do with it.

  “You didn’t earn my trust.” He mimes a twisting gesture in the air, universal for ‘mix it up’ when it comes to this particular toy. “You told me a story that clearly has a lot of information missing. In any case, even if I did believe you, I would not help you by teaching you how to reach Nirvana.”

  “Well, since I’m not sure how I can make you trust me”—I twist the cube a few times—“it’s all moot anyway.”

  “Actually, it’s not,” Frederick says, not looking at my hands. “If you are truly committed, there is a way that I can be sure you are telling me the truth. A way that you might not fancy, however.”

  “What is this mysterious way? Are we going to do trust falls like at executive getaways?” I give the cube a couple of angry twists.

  “Trust falls do not work,” he says, smiling. “But this would. Let’s just say it’s a situation where we would be compelled to tell the truth.”

  “Both of us?” I offer him the now-randomized puzzle. “Or just me?”

  “It would allow for mutual trust.” He carefully takes the toy. “We would each know the truthfulness of the other.”

  “Okay, suppose I do want to learn more about whatever it is you’re hinting at. Can you tell me what your help would entail?”

  “That part is simple.” After a quick glance at the cube, his hands begin manipulating it swiftly and without looking. “If I trusted you, I would order a few well-trained people to go with you and extract your friends and family so stealthily that the Enlightened wouldn’t know what happened, and thus peace wouldn’t be jeopardized.”

  “That’s it? I could’ve Guided a group of Navy Seals to achieve the same result.” In fact, Bert mentioned this very idea in New York.

  “I would not trust Navy Seals with a mission this delicate, but I would trust our team.” Frederick gives me a steady look. “If they are told ‘no casualties,’ there will be none. If they are told ‘no one is to see you,’ they will not be seen. It’s just that simple.”

  “Will you be joining them?” I ask hopefully, remembering his fighting skills against Kate.

  “No,” he says with apparent regret. “I—or more correctly, we, the Elders—never leave the Island. That would put too much stress on our real-world bodies.”

  I really miss being able to phase into the Quiet to think during conversations like this. Something about his last statement has implications, but I don’t have time to think it through since he’s waiting for my response. “If not you, then who will join me?”

  “We have many teams.” His hands stop rotating the Rubik’s cube. “In your case, I think the most logical choice would be Kate’s group, since you already know her. George can go as the Ambassador to supervise the mission.”

  “And they’re Guides?” I look at his hands in disbelief. He’s solved the cube in seconds without looking, and it doesn’t seem as if he did it to show off either.

  “Indeed. Guides are much more effective than the Unencumbered can ever hope to be.”

  I give him an evaluating look. “Are the rest of the team as badass as Kate?”

  “It really depends on the task at hand.” He puts the solved cube back on the table. “She’s an outstanding fighter, and if a situation calls for a sword fight, no one else can match her.”

  “Do many situations call for a sword fight?”

  He chuckles. “Those are my sentiments exactly, but we digress. What do you think of such help?”

  I shrug. “It’s not like I have that many choices.”

  “So you want to proceed with proving your trustworthiness?”

  I’m not sure if it’s just me, but he looks a little too eager. “You have to tell me exactly what’s involved, and then I’ll think about it.”

  “I shall do my best.” I see a hint of a wry smile; he knows he has me on the hook. “Though it’s not an easy task.”

  “Not a good start.” I catch myself shaking my head.

  He pauses for a millisecond before saying, “Fine, here goes. It’s called Assimilation. It’s a process, for lack of a better word, that can only happen in Nirvana.”

  “That already sounds pretty sinister,” I say, my eyes narrowing.

  “I won’t try to fool you. Assimilation requires a level of trust to begin with, from both parties.”

  “But why do I have a feeling your risk is negligible,” I say sarcastically.

  “Because you’re smart.” He gives me a wide grin. “Indeed, the risk is mostly yours in this case.”

  “Why is that?”

  “Because you still have people with guns pointed at you outside my Mind Dimension.” He mimes holding a gun in each hand. “If you harm me in any way, and that includes during Assimilation, you’re as good as dead.”

  “Nice.” I cross my arms. “But what about the little problem of me not trusting you?”

  He shrugs. “It’s up to you if you want to gamble. Bear in mind, though, in a way, I would be teaching you something about Nirvana as a result. And though you would have to take my word for it, you could get me to tell you the truth.”

  “Sounds like a Catch-22,” I say with frustration. “Tell me more about this Assimilation.”

  “It’s hard to explain.”

  “Of course it is,” I say, trying not to roll my eyes.

  “Fine, let me try.” He sighs. “It allows for a state of being where we would be physically incapable of lying to each other. During this process, you would have no doubts regarding my intentions.”

  I consider it. Thus far, this whole trip has been a giant waste of time as far as learning anything about Level 2 or the Super Pusher, but this could be my chance.

  “You saw me fight Kate,” Frederick reminds me. “If I wanted to harm you, I would’ve done so already.”

  “Great.” I glare at him. “The good old ‘since I can kill you, you should trust me’ argument. We haven’t learned that one in debate class.”

  “I am just trying to make a case for me having no ulterior motive.” He follows these words with a couple of slow blinks.

  “Oh, you have one.” I try to recall whether blinking means a person is lying. “But it’s probably not to make me Inert.”

  One corner of his mouth twitches, as though he’s amused. “And is that good enough for you to give it a shot?”

  “I don’t have too many choices,” I say and exhale audibly. “B
ut I have one condition.”

  He lifts his eyebrows. “Like you just admitted, your choices are limited. You’re in no position to negotiate, but I’ll hear the condition as a gesture of goodwill.”

  “I don’t want to wait until the end of the Session to get started on the rescue,” I say. “I’m too worried about them, and I’d like to leave right away, as soon as we’re done with this Assimilation business. Would it be a problem if I just walk up to my frozen self and get out of the Mind Dimension? I don’t want those people to shoot me.”

  “They won’t shoot you, but Gustav will be upset,” Frederick says. “You promised him you’ll stay until the end of the Session. He’s a stickler for promises.”

  I blow out a frustrated breath, but then a sneaky idea comes to me. “You initiated this Session,” I say, “so perhaps you can end it? I would then, strictly speaking, be keeping my word.”

  “You want me to end the Session?” For the first time, he looks genuinely distraught. “It will be extremely inconvenient for the other Elders. What if they have done some work already? They would lose it.”

  “Oh, come on.” I lean forward in my chair. “They just came back from the Celebration. What could they have accomplished?”

  “I guess that’s true.” Frederick studies me for a few moments before saying, “All right. As a token of my cooperation, I’ll do it.”

  I give him a satisfied smile. Score one for me. “So, how do we do this Assimilation?”

  “It’s easier to show than to explain,” Frederick says. “I will pull you into Nirvana again, where I will let my mind assimilate with yours, and vice versa. That’s the best word I can use, hence the term.”

  My smile fades. “I really don't like the sound of that.”

  “Do not fret.” Now it’s Frederick’s turn to smile. “In Nirvana, the minds exist in a purer form. Communication there is different from here. It requires the minds to be interconnected, but that is all we are talking about: communication.”

  “So you just want to have a conversation in Nirvana? Face to face, mind to mind, so to speak?”

  “That’s a very good way of describing it. I couldn’t have put it better myself.”

  “And when you ‘talk’ that way, you can’t lie?”

  “Pretty much.”

  “Why do I have a feeling that the devil’s in the details?” I consider pulling out of this whole exercise.

  He must’ve noticed my hesitation, because he says, “How about this?” He gets up, walks up to the wall, and opens what appears to be a safe. Out of the safe, he pulls out a small revolver and turns to face me. “You can shoot me if something goes awry. You know I wouldn’t take being Inert lightly, as it would cost me many millenniums of exile from the other Elders.”

  “Right, but if you made me Inert in Nirvana, I’d end up back in my real-world body next to George’s plane. Not to mention I’ll still have those people in the real world who would shoot me for making you Inert.”

  “We already established that if making you Inert were the goal, I could have done it a million times over. As for the people outside, well, I wouldn’t want you to decide to use this gun lightly. Still, I have so much to lose that giving you this gun is not an empty gesture.”

  “Fine,” I say and walk over to take the gun. “Let’s get on with it.”

  As soon as I aim the gun at Frederick, my senses go away.

  Chapter 14

  Before I fully register anything, a thought intrudes—a thought I recognize as Mimir’s.

  “Darren, don’t trust the Elders with the secret of my existence.” As soon as the words reach me, I sense Mimir’s presence disappearing.

  “Wait,” I think back frantically. “Is this what you tried to tell me before? You realize you got cut off at an important point, don’t you? You ended up making me think I wasn’t supposed to trust someone, and it drove me crazy. In any case, why don’t you want them to know about you?”

  No reply comes, so after what feels like a few minutes of angry waiting, I turn my attention to Level 2 itself.

  You’d think experiencing this sensory deprivation would be easier the third time, but it’s just as frightening now as it was on my two prior visits.

  The difference lies in how quickly I become aware of that special sense that lets me ‘see’ neural networks. It’s almost instant this time. I see three networks: two frozen networks that are me and Frederick outside Nirvana, and a dynamic one that’s the Level 2 version of Frederick.

  Though I don’t have much experience with these patterns, especially activated ones like his, I can’t help but think that Frederick’s form is unique. His ‘neurons,’ if that’s what they are, don’t remind me of stars—the mistake I made during my first time in this realm. No, the spots of ‘color’ are more ‘orange’ than the whiteness of starlight. The synapses remind me of the sun’s rays trapped in a piece of crystal.

  Suddenly, all that colorful stuff surrounds me.

  A wave of anxiety hits me, or at least that’s the best way to describe the emotion. It’s not fear so much as a sense of being invaded and having my privacy violated. There’s a hint of shame too. I felt this way during a dream where I was in the middle of Times Square naked, only this is much stronger.

  A weird sensation overtakes me. On one hand, I’m definitely incorporeal, but on the other, I feel as though I’m being erased from existence. How can something that’s not physical be erased? I don’t know, but I fight the force that’s trying to erase me with all my will.

  And then the strange feeling subsides, and a new one appears that’s just as unpleasant. I feel as if I’m destroying something. As I endure this feeling, I realize that the pattern that is me has the pattern that is Frederick at a standstill.

  It’s a little bit like when I encompassed Thomas, Kyle, and my own pattern on my first visit to Level 2; my pattern surrounded the others in order to Read, Guide, and phase out. This time differs in that I’m only halfway surrounding Frederick. It’s also a more dynamic process. I think these two results are related. Frederick is ‘alive’ and clearly fighting my pattern as it’s trying to absorb his, and vice versa. It’s a strange mental tug of war that reminds me of the day I tried to meditate before a tooth extraction, with my adrenaline making it impossible for me to calm my mind.

  Then I feel fear, and what makes this fear odd is that I know, without a shadow of doubt, that it’s not mine. Well, it’s mine now, but it didn’t originate within me. A flood of other foreign emotions hits me like a wave. Surfing on this wave is a single thought: “Darren, it’s me, Frederick.”

  The thought is different from Mimir’s telepathic voice. I can almost ‘hear’ it.

  “Try your best to speak,” another thought says. “You should be able to project your thoughts to me.”

  A slew of emotions accompanies this advice, and somehow I know he’s telling the truth.

  So I try to talk, ignoring the fact that I don’t have a mouth and that there’s no air in this place to carry sound waves. The message I try to get across is: “So, this is Assimilation?”

  “That’s it,” Frederick’s projection responds. “You did it. And indeed it is.”

  Again I know his words are truthful, and this time, I attempt to figure out why I’m so certain of that. Then it hits me: it’s the emotions. Our emotions seep through with every word. In this strange state, we’ve become empaths. When you can feel someone’s true emotions, figuring out whether they’re telling the truth is easy. It follows the same principles as a lie detector. If Frederick lies, his emotions will betray it. Unlike real lie-detecting machines, which can be duped, this doesn’t have any loopholes that I can think of.

  “So you’re going to ask me stuff?” I project. “And based on my emotions, you’ll know if I’m telling the truth?”

  “You’re a quick study,” he projects, his emotions validating his sincerity. “Indeed, that’s the plan.”

  “Okay then, but I also want to ask you a few thin
gs.”

  “I would expect nothing less,” he responds.

  “Did you make my friends attack me?”

  “What?” His response is associated with genuine befuddlement.

  “Mira, my girlfriend, and Thomas, my adoptive brother,” I clarify. “Did you Guide them to attack me at Kyle Grant’s funeral?”

  “I did not,” he projects, and I know he’s telling the truth, but there’s also deep confusion in his reply, as I would expect from someone who knows nothing about the attack. “Can I ask my follow-up question now?”

  “Go.”

  “Did you ever intend to harm us, the Elders?” This is accompanied by hope.

  “No.”

  “You’re lying.” Fear and anger permeate the thought. The weird sensation of being gobbled up begins anew, giving me a very bad feeling.

  “Let me explain,” I quickly project. “I didn’t intend to harm the Elders per se. As a group, I like you guys. I simply expected to discover that one of you tried to hurt me by using those close to me. I would harm that person if I could.”

  “That is the truth,” he replies, and the pressure of the mental violence subsides. “I accept this.”

  What the hell did he just do to me? I could ask him, but I’d be wasting a question, and I have something more important I need to ask, something that, if he confirms it, will remove a huge number of people from my list of suspects. Besides, I instinctively know what he did. He tried to ‘envelop’ me—what I’d do if I wanted to Read someone.

  “Do the Elders really never leave the Island?” I ask.

  “Never.”

  “But—”

  “It’s my turn,” his projection intrudes.

  “You’re right. Go.”

  “Will you unite our people once you’re done with your short-term trivia? Do you want Guides and Readers to have peace?”

  Ignoring the insult of calling the kidnapping of my friends and family ‘short-term trivia,’ I think about his question. This is the first time I’ve genuinely considered it. Hillary once said that as a hybrid, I embody a shift in the age-long hostilities and could make a difference. She thinks someone like me could change the usual tribal thinking that’s so prevalent in the Pusher versus Leacher strife, since within me, the tribes are united. I never gave her words much thought because I didn’t have to, but I consider them now, and I don’t see anything but good things coming from such a peace.