CHAPTER 12 — MORRIS
Jane drifted in and out of sleep amid the gentle sobs that escaped her. Hours later, in the dark, she heard someone speak in her mind.
Hello? The sound of a male voice came—she thought—from somewhere nearby. She sat up and responded tentatively.
Hello?
I’m Morris. You’re Jane, aren’t you?
Who is that, she wondered. She had the impression that the voice was coming through the wall next to her bed, and, obviously, it was a telepathic communication.
Where are you? Who are you? How do you know about me? she asked.
Oh, sorry. You’ve been a big deal around here for the last few days. I overheard some of the technicians talking about you a few times.
Jane listened as he paused before continuing.
I think the first thing I’ve got to tell you is that they have total control of us with that dampening signal they use. It blocks the brainwave pattern that enables psychokinesis. We don’t know how it works exactly, or how they generate it, but in some spots we can still get a telepathic signal. It fades in and out though, you know? It’s like trying to tune an old radio most of the time.
Jane thought about this for a second and found that it immediately struck her as both dangerous and manipulative.
This doesn’t sound good, she said tentatively.
Yeah. They say it’s harmless, but I can only imagine it’s doing some kind of damage to us.
A silence fell between them as Jane felt a distant stirring of something she had long since stopped imagining—a ray of light shining into a long-forgotten, empty tomb.
Where are you from, Morris? She sat on the bed against the wall and drew her legs under her. She was desperately happy to have somebody—anybody—to talk to, and he seemed friendly.
I’m from Boston.
Did you…do something? I mean, did they have a reason to put you in here?
Ugh…it’s kind of a long story.
On some level she felt a wall go up in his mind, and she knew not to pursue the line of questioning further. She didn’t care what he did or didn’t tell her; she was just happy to talk to someone.
How long have you been in here? she asked gently.
Six months.
She considered this response, but found it only caused further consternation. Her brow furrowed.
Have others been in that long? she asked.
Some longer.
How have they managed to keep this place hidden and out of public knowledge?
Good question. I don’t know, but I get the impression that it’s teetering on the brink. People are starting to talk about these places now finally. I don’t think they can control the flow of information anymore.
Silence ensued for another moment, and Jane considered what he had said. After a while, he picked up the conversation again.
So what did you do?
Well…that’s a long story too. One time, when I was younger…She stopped suddenly, realising that she was launching into the explanation without thinking. A flood of memories came rushing back to her. Most of them were just fragmentary images, as that was all she could ever really remember: the teddy bear, the shattered windshield below her. She winced without being aware that she was doing so. She was also unaware of the fact that she had started to shiver just slightly as that trauma threatened to rise to the surface.
Are you okay? His voice came back to her, surprising her with its reassurance. She found herself falling into it in an unexpected way. Like a ray of light, it broke the circling, threatening memories, and she was once again back in the stark white room. The telepathic communication had been unfamiliar to her until recently, but now that she was doing it more frequently, she found it came just as naturally to her as talking aloud.
It’s fine. I’m so used to censoring myself, that’s all. I’ve been hiding everything all these years.
I understand, he responded. I didn’t feel the need to do that, to be honest. I just used it. Although it tired me sometimes. Does it make you tired?
Well, yes, actually, it hurt me once…it nearly killed me.
Really?
She could feel the shock of his response reverberate in her mind and thought she could almost see him turn his head towards the wall.
How? he asked, concern in his voice.
She told him what little she could remember about the accident with the car. She could feel him listening intently in a room somewhere nearby. She could sense his interest. It was nice to have someone listen to her. Her mother had never wanted to talk about it much, for obvious reasons; it was the thing that might one day result in her being taken. Also, there was too much difficult family history attached to the subject.
So you lifted the entire car? Morris asked.
She hesitated. Apparently…you know, I don’t actually remember much of it. I blacked out.
The silence in his pause was palpable. No wonder they were after you the way they were.
She didn’t tell him about the fact that her father had left them soon after the accident. She had never told anyone about that, and found it a difficult subject to discuss, even with her mother. Do you know where we are? she asked.
No. I have no idea. We were all brought in unconscious. I have a feeling we’re in New York, though.
Why?
Colin overheard one of the lab techs talk about the city a while back. He was talking about it as though he was going to be there that evening. So we’re obviously not quite in the city, but maybe somewhere near it.
New York! She gasped in shock. So she had been on a plane. The metallic structure she had seen beyond the glass had been the fuselage of the interior. She took a deep breath and looked around in the dark again. From where she was sitting, she could see past the walls of her room and the outer corridor and into the centre of the indoor garden across the way. Her brow furrowed as she made out the ropey lines of thick bark in the dim light.
What exactly is it they do here, Morris?
Well…it’s a detention facility. Every now and then they take us into a room and do a bunch of tests on us. Actually, it’s mostly Lucas who does that.
She noticed he was briefly distracted by this realisation, as if the relevance of it was just occurring to him.
They lower the field a bit to give us access to some of our ability, but never enough to escape, and they make us do stuff for them while they monitor us.
Again, a look of confusion spread across Jane’s face as she looked away from the garden to the wall on her right. She had the sense that something was beyond these simple explanations.
Morris, what is it exactly they get out of that? What could they gain from it? Everything to do with “Vision” has been studied in depth: psychokinesis, clairvoyance, telepathy, you name it. Lots of books have been written on the subject, and it’s been talked about in mainstream media. There’s not much they can really gain from monitoring small spikes of psionic activity, so why do it?
She could almost feel his hesitation through the link between their minds.
I hadn’t thought of that, really, he replied. But now that you mention it, I guess it does seem odd. I suppose I didn’t want to think about it. Being in this place…it’s like we’re drugged or something.
Tell me about Lucas, she said.
Well, it’s mostly him who’s running the tests. And whoever else is behind the glass in that room. I don’t even think they’re supposed to be doing that. Although the existence of these places isn’t public knowledge, so I suppose they can do whatever they like, really.
There was a pause again, but it was not uncomfortable. Jane lay down on her bed, turning towards the wall. She lifted her legs towards her chest until she was lying in a fetal position.
You know, he said, now that you’ve said it, it does seem that they want something from us…something else. I just hadn’t thought about it before. They all do—I’m just not sure what it is.
Well, yeah. It seems kind of obvious to me now, she r
eplied. They both stopped talking for a moment, though Jane could feel in her mind that the channel was still open. There was a minute amount of discomfort between them in that silence, but it was gone quickly.
We should get some sleep, Jane.
Yeah, good idea. Nice to meet you, Morris.
You too. See you tomorrow, probably in the cafeteria.
Sure, good night.
Night.
His voice faded and she was alone again. She fell into a restful sleep three minutes later.
The Ethereal Vision Page 23