by Clara Ward
They parked in front of a three-story, white building with a roof of solar panels. Without a word they were ushered inside.
A familiar voice said, “Welcome to beautiful Bangkok.” The sarcastic smirk and raised eyebrows presented Tom as they’d known him in Belize. The conservative dark trousers and white button down shirt seemed at odds with his personality.
“Tom, thank you,” Sarah began. “Let me introduce you to my friends. This is Mei Mei, Lisa, Robert, and Howard.”
As Tom swept forward to shake hands he said, “While you are all welcome to call me Tom, and several people do, my actual name is Tanit Asawaroengchullaka.”
“I’d be pleased to call you Tom,” Lisa said with a half smile.
Tom spread his hands and winked dramatically. The men in suits stared coolly at him.
“Now, if no one minds,” Tom continued, “These gentlemen would like to help the four of you with some paperwork, and I’ve been asked to sort things out with Sarah and Reggie.”
With that, Reggie and Sarah let Tom whisk them down the hall to a small meeting room with a polished, round table. Tom reeked of spices, and Sarah was smiling beneath her red eyes. As soon as they closed the door, Tom sprawled languorously into a chair, pinned them with his melodramatic gaze, and said, “What a dramatic entrance. Tell me all about what happened on the plane and back at the CDC in San Francisco. There are rumors you can start fires, too. Is that true?”
“I just used telekinesis.”
Reggie looked but saw no hint of a lie on Sarah’s face.
“How do you know so much, and why are we being separated from my friends?” Sarah answered defensively and sat in the chair farthest from Tom. Reggie contentedly sat between them.
“Oh, rough day? It’s nothing malevolent, my dear.” Tom waved a hand toward Sarah. “The people who usually handle our ‘mental differences’ refugees have never dealt with non-telepaths. Not as teeks, not even as lovers.” He winked. “The moment I arrived on the scene they told me to handle your paperwork. Oh, and they don’t want you in their dormitory, so the government is renting you a room for a couple weeks. Might give you time to choose where you want to live and who you want to work for. Now, will one of you fill me in?”
While Sarah sat stunned, Reggie began telling the story of their escape from the CDC. He told it as he’d tell an amusing anecdote at a cocktail party. Sarah didn’t say anything at all, but Tom compensated with a few appreciative remarks. When the part on the plane had to be explained, Sarah finally shook her sulk for a few terse sentences.
“Is that all?” Tom asked, leaning forward across the table toward Sarah.
“Mei Mei probably knows better. She’s the telepath. I’m just exhausted.” There were tears waiting just behind Sarah’s voice.
“Right,” Tom smiled sympathetically, an unconvincing look most befitting a predator. “Let me get your help with a few items here on the paperwork. I don’t suppose you have your passports handy?”
Reggie produced his from his money belt. Sarah offered hers from her mass of gym paperwork.
“Excellent. Tell you what, I’ll have somebody drive you out to the Hotel Siam. You’re all set up in room 1411.” He flicked a key card from his crisp shirt pocket. “Someone will come by tomorrow with more papers for you to sign. I’ve also arranged invitations for you and your fiends to an ex-pat Easter party next weekend. Give you a chance to make some connections. The family hosting the party is teep, and they’ll know all about you, but most of the rest are regular émigrés; just so you know. I’ll drop by there if I don’t see you before.”
With that, Tom stepped around the table to Sarah, catching both her hands, and asked with what might have been honest concern, “Are you all right, Sarah?”
“Just tired,” her voice was calmer and she straightened her back and shoulders.
“When you’re ready to have a good time, don’t forget me.” With that, Tom saw them out and handed them off to an assistant who drove them to the hotel.
Their hotel room was clean, air conditioned, and could have been anyplace in the world. The drapes were butter yellow with opaque lining. A king-size bed dominated the room, which also contained two armchairs, two small dressers, and a television set. The phone was plain and primitive, and Reggie realized they had nothing to access the web. There was a private bathroom with the usual sample-size toiletries and also two overnight kits with combs, toothbrushes, and so on.
“Can I shower first?” Sarah asked, and Reggie couldn’t refuse her.
By the time he came out from his own shower, she was fast asleep, curled like a wild thing completely under the covers. Reggie didn’t think that he was tired, but he climbed in beside her and waited for exhaustion to catch up.
April 15, 2025 – Bangkok, Thailand
After noon the next day, the two telepaths who had met them at the airport came by with papers. Reggie offered them the only two chairs in the room, which they accepted without speaking, leaving him and Sarah to sit on the edge of the bed. One telepath slouched in his chair and stared out the window, ignoring them. The other silently handed Reggie and Sarah stacks of documents.
“These you need to sign.” When he finally spoke, his voice was flat. He did not make eye contact. “They say you’re here as refugees, you renounce your American citizenship, and you seek Thai citizenship. There are some additional papers in case the U.S. tries to claim you’re terrorists or hijackers, but we think they’re going to ignore the whole incident now. They’ve lost you. They don’t want publicity.”
There was silence while they signed papers. Then the man who had spoken collected them and handed out other papers.
“These give you the right to live and work here. If you wish to work for the government, arrangements can be made.” The speaker swallowed, shifting his jaw to the side in a look of distaste. “We are not sure how useful you would be in the usual capacities, but if you’d like to work with the military, they could certainly come up with something. Ms. Duncan might also sign on for medical studies.”
The speaker paused, glancing at his companion who was still staring out the window. Then he began to recite, the way American T.V. cops would state Miranda rights, “We have certain security rules for telepaths, some of which would apply to you. We do not refer to telepathy, telekinesis, teeps, teeks, or any other clear indicator in writing, by computer, or on the phone. We do not disclose or demonstrate our abilities to normals. We do not use our abilities for personal gain, to circumvent the law, or in any way that might be noticed by normals. Do you understand and agree?”
“Yes,” said Reggie and then Sarah.
“Good. Here’s my card. Only contact me if it’s important. Otherwise, you’re on your own.”
The two men abruptly stood and headed toward the door. The whole discussion had lasted less than five minutes, and Reggie felt vaguely insulted and awkward. Still he saw the guests out, falling back on the role of host. Sarah stood, staring distractedly at the business card she’d been handed. When Reggie went to look, all it said was:
Wang Chanthanasai
Immigration Specialist
726 Soi Suanplu, Bangkok
02/437-7112
Reggie shrugged and said, “Well, that was friendly.”
“They’re used to dealing with teeps.”
“You look worried.”
“Just imagine how ‘normals’ would deal with us if they knew.”
Reggie nodded in understanding before he jarred on the fact that he was one of the ‘normals.’ He reached an arm across Sarah’s back, physically defining whose side he was on.
Dinner in the restaurant hotel was loud, and neither of them spoke much. Afterward, Sarah insisted they go sightseeing. They picked up a tourist map at the front desk, and headed out into the night. Beside the hotel there was a newsstand, a tobacconist, and a beauty salon, all closed and gated after dark. Beyond the shops were a huge intersection, two marked lanes, and a third, in each direction. At two corners
loomed skyscrapers, filmy with nearly new translucent solar siding, reflecting Thailand’s status as one of the world’s fastest growing economies. Graphic signs on lampposts alluded to its older reputation as an international sex capital.
“Do you want to see buildings, clubs, or something else?” Reggie asked.
“I just wanted to get out. I’ve gotten so paranoid, I’m afraid to speak in our room.”
“I don’t think that’s too paranoid. What did you want to talk about?”
“Oh Reggie,” Sarah looked like she might burst into tears again. Then she was silent. Reggie gave her hand a squeeze and tried to be patient. As they walked, he looked into windows of closed up shops. They were in a very touristy area; so most of the stores held sentimental Thai “antiques” and tacky souvenirs. But a few sold traditional cloth and clothing. The rich blues and greens, reds and golds appealed to Reggie. They reminded him of Sarah’s Indian fabric collection.
“You know, I’m really sorry about dragging you into all this,” Sarah whispered. “I can’t imagine how it seems to you.”
“Don’t worry. It’s harder on you than on me,” Reggie said, not thinking about whether that was true. Instead, he was imagining all of the people on the street taking classes to close their minds to telepathy. Would there be easy funding, or would wealthy people prefer to limit that sort of privacy? If teeps and teeks were going to be accepted, they’d have to find a way to offer everyone that training.
“Do you ever wish I hadn’t called you?”
Reggie’s hand moved reflexively to where his cell phone used to be, “No chance.”
“And you still like me?”
Reggie stopped walking and turned Sarah to face him. He held her shoulders and looked straight into her eyes. “I like you. I love you. I seriously doubt anything is going change that. Okay?”
He hugged her tight, right in the middle of the sidewalk, but she didn’t relax in his arms. Passersby paid no attention, pretty tame for Bangkok.
“If I tell you stuff I don’t want anyone else to know, will you promise never to tell, even if you break up with me?” Sarah mumbled with her face against his shoulder.
“You’re asking that now? After all –“
Sarah yanked him forward by the hand, starting them down the sidewalk at a serious clip. “Reggie, there’s still a lot I’ve never told anyone. Now that people know what I can do, it’s like having a pain I’d taken for granted suddenly go away. But there’s so much more falling together in my mind, and I’m scared I’ll burst if I keep it all in.”
Reggie tried to brace himself to listen patiently, like a priest. But the unaccustomed heat and sudden exertion made him sweat, more like a sportsman facing a challenge. He swayed as if navigating a rope bridge, the ties abrading, wind gusting, only one person at the other end.
Sarah was silent as they passed through a crowded section of street. A scantily clad hologram undulated on the sidewalk while the words “nude girls” flashed on an old neon sign.
When they were somewhat alone again, Sarah said, “I don’t think the other teeks can start fires, and maybe they couldn’t pinch off an artery without doing visible damage. But there are ways to crash a car or plane, even collapse a building, which would work for any teek. Pushing someone down stairs or impaling them with shattered window glass would be easy to do and hard to trace. When I first imagined there were others like me, I wondered why none of it happened, or how no one found out, and I still don’t know.”
Reggie shook his head trying to match Sarah’s pace, “Maybe it can’t be used that way, or maybe there’s some sort of policing.”
At that point they reached the Grand Palace. It was closed for the night, but a load of Malaysian tourists stood listening to a tour guide who pointed up at shining tile roofs. The crowd huddled to the left in front of their bus, so Sarah and Reggie slipped far to the right, up next to the gate. The gate looked large enough for elephants to pass through, and Reggie realized they probably had. Beside it Sarah looked tiny, fragile beneath looming stone walls, despite what he knew she could do. Missing his camera, Reggie tried to memorize the lines of her body as her arm reached out to stroke the old gate.
“Kind of impressive, isn’t it?” Sarah said.
“Especially given the neighborhood. Funny how time does that.”
“Four weeks ago, I thought I was alone, that I’d never tell anyone.”
She began to walk, more slowly now. Reggie wanted to tell her she wasn’t alone before, but he knew what she meant. He tried to take her hand, but she pulled it away and crossed both arms against her chest. Her voice, when she spoke, was full of tears, though her face showed fury like an animal just caged.
“Reggie, the night I discovered I could move things, I was ten-years-old. I moved a pencil by accident. Then I tried it again. Then I tried other stuff. By the time I went to bed, I’d rearranged most of my room, one little bit, or a few, at a time. I think I might have told my mom that first night, except there was a guest in the house. His name was Peter. He used to visit us two or three times a year. Other than relatives, he was the only person who ever stayed in our guest room.”
Sarah’s face wrinkled in disgust. For a moment Reggie wasn’t sure if she reacted to the memory or to a particularly odiferous alley on their right. He wished she would stop and look at him while she talked.
“You know, my mom as good as told me the man she divorced wasn’t my real father. Until the meeting at CDC, I thought it might have been Peter. When I was a child, he-- he did things to me. At first, I thought they might be okay, if he was my father, because I knew there were different rules about touching and stuff between parents and kids.”
Reggie felt himself leaping to the end of a collapsing bridge, ready to protect the woman standing there from anything, but she kept standing all alone. “Are you saying –“
“Yeah, but that’s only part of it. He came to get me the night I first learned I was, ah, telekinetic. He took me to the guestroom. And all of a sudden I knew -- Before that, I thought he was trying to be nice to me, that he didn’t know how I felt. But that night I knew he didn’t care how I felt. He knew he was taking advantage of me. I was so hurt but also so angry. The anger and pain just consumed me, and then the bed in that room was on fire, and he let go of me. I ran outside crying.”
Reggie froze, wanting to hit someone but trying to offer priestly understanding instead. He heard his own voice come out flat as paper. “That was the guest room fire you said started from a cigarette?”
“That’s what my mom and the police believed. I don’t know if Peter believed that or made it up. He never came back. I never spoke about any of it.”
“But he lived.”
Sarah shook her head and stopped, brought back from wherever she’d been.
“Yeah, but what if he hadn’t?” Now there were tears on her face and her voice broke and squeaked.
Reggie imagined child Sarah setting the man instead of the bed on fire, and thought it would have served Peter right. But grown-up Sarah stood trembling even now, and he wondered if any child could deal with that. To Sarah he said, “I’m sorry. It must have been terrible.”
They’d stopped, without noticing, in front of a bookstore. Sarah stood with her neck and shoulders curving down, into shadow. But her hair, curly with humidity and disarranged from walking, reflected the streetlights on two sides and the store’s display light from behind. Against the backdrop of books, one actually a travel guide, and others with titles in Thai script, it was impossible not to think how far they’d come, and only the lines on a map would show it as simple. For a moment Reggie could play neither priest nor protector, and as himself he realized he wanted to marry Sarah. The thought startled him into raising his arms. He tried to reach out to Sarah with the motion, but she pulled away, and he realized she wasn’t finished. And she was walking again.
“Don’t you see? I never put it together until the last couple weeks. All other teeks are teeps. That night
I knew what Peter thought. Maybe I had telepathy, and I either turned it into fire or pushed it so far out of mind that I lost it.”
Those words struck Reggie like a pounding bell, and he called forward his priestly countenance again. He’d almost come to terms with the idea of telepaths living around him, but he really didn’t want his girlfriend to be one. Even if no one could read his thoughts now, he’d seen enough exclusive conversations. Still, he owed Sarah a sympathetic reply. Hadn’t he wanted to marry her a minute ago? Now there was a lump in his throat, a caving in sensation at his center.
“Does that mean you want to be a telepath?”
“I don’t know. In a way I feel robbed of something, but if my relatives were working for the government even then-- I don’t know what would have happened if they’d gotten me when I was ten. And I don’t know if my mother only had the genes on one side and wasn’t telepathic, or if she was hiding it, or if she’d repressed it in herself. I can’t know what my life would have been like any other way. And now, I’m not sure I’d want to change. The idea of hearing random people’s private thoughts-- well, it bothers me, but being able to talk to other telepaths might be useful, especially now.”
“I always knew you had secrets, though I never guessed they’d require a security clearance. I even suspected abuse sometimes but decided that wasn’t it.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know. It didn’t quite fit.”
“Didn’t fit –“
“Later. What I need to ask, even if this isn’t the time is, is this all of it?”
“Yes . . . No.” Sarah stopped walking, her face suspended in thought. Reggie braced himself, trying to prepare for absolutely anything. They stood in an empty plaza, a small square of mortared gray stones just off the road, as the early nightlife hurried by. Bangkok was starting to buzz, but the two of them stood separate, quiet. Sarah lightly ran a hand across his shoulder and the loose fabric of his sleeve, raising goose bumps in the humid Thai heat.