by Lada Ray
“Fascinating,” I said truthfully. “But how does it work?”
“In order to have an experience, all you have to do is put this helmet on and press one of the buttons. This control panel, as you can see, has a number of buttons color coded to represent different experiences.”
I examined the device closely. There were two rows of buttons in different colors: green, red, lavender, blue, white and pink.
“Do you want to try it?”
I responded with enthusiastic nodding.
“Well then, let's put on the helmet. Once you do, I'll tell you which button to push. When you do, you'll be able to have one of the experiences programmed into this device.” Jack Maloof paused, frowning. “Umm... just don't... touch the lavender button.”
“Why?” I asked with a playful grin. “Is there another military experiment behind it?”
“Something like that,” he responded evasively, averting his eyes. And with surprise, I saw a glimpse of the old, familiar Jack Maloof.
All right,” he went on briskly, and just like that, the new, assertive Jack was back. “Ready to begin?”
I nodded, as he helped me adjust the helmet. With it on, I could still see the buttons through the goggles, but now they were shimmering multicolored circles suspended in dark nothingness. I couldn't see Jack or anything else, just the buttons.
How cool, was the immediate thought.
“Now push the button on the right, the green one,” I heard Jack's voice from a distance. It wasn't more than a whisper, although as I knew, he was standing right next to me.
I obediently touched the green shimmering circle floating before my eyes. I didn't see my hand, but the circle was for a moment dimmed, and I knew I did indeed push it. The very next moment, I forgot everything.
I was flying, my mighty wings outstretched, and there was nothing but sheer exhilaration of flight. I headed for lush, sun filled valley, scouting the ground. Then I saw it - a grey rabbit. I felt a terrible urge to strike and then, carry it in my talons to a hidden spot where I'd devour it. Wait a minute... What? My talons? Devour? Am I an eagle? Holy...
A momentary shock changed to the excitement of a hunter, as I positioned myself high up. Almost reaching the light fluffy clouds, I was prepared to dive for my prey. But something was wrong, I felt it with all my heart.
Oh, no, I didn't want to do it! I squirmed, trying to change my position in the sky. I really didn't want to kill that poor rabbit! As I resisted, a sharp electric pulse hit my brain. The more resistance I put up, the more intense the pulse became, until it turned into a persistent and excruciating headache. My breathing heavy, I would've fallen from the sky, when I heard a far away, hardly audible voice, “Jade, Jade, take off the helmet.”
I obeyed and stared into Jack's frowning face. “Didn't you hear me?” he said with great irritation. “I've been yelling for you to take it off!”
I blinked, trying to get my bearings. “You've been yelling?” I was genuinely surprised. All I heard was a muffled, far away whisper.
“What happened, why did you resist?”
“I... I,” I was trying to find the right words. “D... didn't want to hurt that rabbit.”
“Ah...” a glimmer of comprehension entered his eyes. “The program may seem like a toy, but it really isn't,” he explained. “It's designed to fit my particular fantasies and tastes, so if yours are different and you resist, it may have adverse effects.”
He was still frowning, eying me carefully. But then he noticed a pensive expression on my face and immediately re-arranged his own expression into that, suitable for a gracious host. After all, he wouldn't want any negative publicity, would he?
“Jade,” he said, “I don't want you to leave with this kind of... impression. Let me show you another program, which I think you'll enjoy much better.” I wasn't so sure any more and was eying the device with apprehension, unable to forget the sharp electric pulse piercing my brain.
“Trust me, you'll like this one.” His smile was inviting, and I was too curious to leave without making at least one more attempt at a glimpse into the world's virtual future.
“Now, when you put it on, press this button. You'll like it, trust me,” he nodded with an encouraging smile.
I decided, why not? Helmet back on, I reached for the shimmering white circle and the very next moment I was running through a beautiful green meadow with unbelievable speed, wind whistling in my ears, my white mane flying. The sensation was out of this world - joy, exhilaration, freedom. I was a horse, a beautiful white horse, and what could be better than that! After a long, refreshing run, I stopped to graze, picking wild blooms and tender blades of fresh grass with my gentle horse lips and chewing them thoroughly with my strong horse teeth. I could taste the sweetness of green grass, the pungency of purple clover and the delicate, honey-like taste of the small white flowers I couldn't quite identify. It was so amazing, I giggled with delight, but instead of a giggle I heard a horse's nicker in my ear. Unbelievable!
“Very good,” came a far away whisper. “Now press the pink button.”
Nickering softly, I obediently pressed the shimmering pink circle and felt myself shrinking rapidly. I wasn't a horse any more, I was... I was... crawling. My body was a slithering, furry pipe. Raising my head from the ground, I examined myself and the surroundings curiously. Wow! I was a caterpillar and I knew that I was on some kind of a mission. Ah, that's right - I needed to find a warm, well-protected spot. I located one in a quiet corner of a garden and curled up in a ball. Then I felt myself becoming a cocoon. My life essence pulsed inside, in the moist darkness, as if in a mother's womb. Except this womb was of my own creation. I felt myself change while inside the cocoon, then it became too small and I desperately wanted out. I started trying to break through the shell and finally succeed. I felt the wings behind me. Oh joy, I could fly again! But this time, it was different. I was tiny and flew from flower to flower in a beautiful garden near a gently flowing river. I collected nectar and fluttered, fluttered...
I was a gorgeous black, white and orange butterfly, so carefree and happy that I couldn't wait to try the next button. And there it was, the most beautiful button I've ever seen. It was a shimmering lavender color, with a wonderful, delicate smell, like a flower. I was a curious butterfly, and I needed to check out that button, because my feeling was that Jack has hidden the best nectar behind it – the forbidden nectar and therefore, the sweetest. I resolutely reached for the shimmering lavender circle.
“NOOOOOOO!” Who's that yelling so loudly? I wondered. The reverberating sound was still in my ears, but I was a playful, carefree butterfly, so naturally, I disregarded that strange sound. I desperately wanted to check out that sweet smelling, beautiful lavender flower.
“NOOOOOOO! Take that ooooff!!!!!” the noise was so terrible that it yanked me out of my butterfly bliss for a moment. But it was too late - I already pressed the button.
Butterfly no more and human again, I was kissing someone passionately, hungrily, full on the mouth. On the moist, pink, delicate lips. Then, I touched the woman's breasts, young, full of life and moaned with insatiable desire and yearning. I felt a stirring near my groin and knew that my hard, hot, throbbing organ was ready for her.
Wh.... whaaaaat??!! My organ??!!
In shock, I pulled my face away from the woman I was kissing and stared in disbelief at the smiling, languorous form of Rebbecca. Not the gaunt, lifeless Rebbecca I met at the hospital, but the young, full of life Rebbecca from long ago, the one, whose picture I found in the high school yearbook.
If this was Rebbecca, then who was I? I thought in panic. My eyes feverishly circled the room. We were in a sumptuously erotic bedroom full of red candles, red drapes and golden mirrors. The mirrors reflected the bed whose headboard was fashioned with carved cupids. I stared into a mirror and blinked. Gazing back at me was Jack's face - Jack's present day face.
“Jack, darling,” moaned the young Rebbecca, stretching sensuously on the bed
. “Aren't you going to kiss me?” She made a move to pull me towards herself, but I jumped off the bed, as if burned.
The very next second I felt an electric shock to my brain, a shock so excruciating that I immediately yanked the helmet off and staggered, struggling to catch my breath. I stared into the livid, purple with suppressed rage face - Jack's face. I squeezed my eyes shut and shook my head, hoping to shake off the vision. I couldn't still be Jack, could I?
“I told you not to press that button, didn't I?” he said in a low, hissing voice that held a threat.
Still disoriented, I took a step away from him, shivering under his searing gaze and clutching protectively at my stomach.
“S... sorry,” I managed with some difficulty. “It's just... I couldn't control the urge when I was butterfly. That button was so inviting and it smelled so good, I... I just had to see...” I gulped hard and then added hastily, “I really haven't seen anything, Jack. It... it was just a blur and then... um... when I felt the electric shock, even stronger then with the eagle, I took the helmet off right away.”
I could almost hear the cogs whirring inside his head, trying to assess the damage. It took only a second, - oh my, but his mind worked fast – and then he nodded, visibly relaxed. The heavy steel shutters lowered over his eyes, as the look in them became politely indifferent. Next, his face quickly re-arranged itself into a gracious host's mask. The shutters to his soul snapped shut and there was no way to discern what was going on behind them.
I understand.” He gave me a perfunctory smile. “It can get very realistic at times, but as I said before, it's a toy, nothing more.”
I did recall him saying the opposite, in fact warning me that it wasn't really a toy, but then again, I wasn't about to argue with him just then. I produced an appeasing smile and nodded politely.
He accompanied me to the front door and as I walked back to the car, I felt the eyes boring into my back - probing, distrustful, dangerous eyes.
Chapter 19
That night I dreamed that I was a butterfly. I fluttered my colorful wings among the blooms, enjoying the bright summer sun. All of a sudden, a giant, who wore a wrinkled shirt and a menacing smile, appeared out of nowhere. A huge sack rose, like a black, relentless cloud and dropped over me. I didn't notice the danger until it was too late. I tried to break through the barrier of the net, fluttering my wings as hard as I could. In despair, I fought and fought for my freedom, but nothing, absolutely nothing happened. I was trapped. The vicious giant with a gleeful smile bent over me and started morphing into someone else, equally dangerous, but different looking. This one wore an expensive suit and a tie with a gold tie pin set with large black onyx.
I was absolutely powerless as he picked me up with his long, cold fingers... No, I corrected myself, his fingers weren't cold at all, they were big and forceful and they held me very painfully by my wings. My days were numbered and I resigned to the fact that he was going to pierce me with a needle, frame me and put me up on the wall. I knew...
Abruptly, my eyes flew open and I sat up in bed, soaked with cold sweat. I still trembled. What a disgusting nightmare! Brrrr... I got up and shuffled to the kitchen. Three in the morning. Perfect, just perfect. I put the kettle on the stove. Perhaps, if I had a nice cup of tea with Rachel's fabulous Tasmanian honey, I'd be able to sleep.
I poured boiling water over a bag of chamomile tea, stirring into it a generous dollop of honey. Then, I sat at the kitchen table and drank it slowly. Three twenty five, I noted, stifling a yawn. Okay. Now, back to bed.
I lied down and closed my eyes, breathing deeply and counting from one hundred in a descending order. Usually, however agitated I was, I'd fall asleep before reaching sixty. This time, I had to count down all the way to twenty one. Then, the numbers finally started floating in and out of my mind. Twenty... eighteen... seventeen... nineteen... seventeen...sixt... And I was asleep.
What was that ringing in my ear? I woke up with a start. Seven thirty. Hey, my “chamomile tea plus counting down from one hundred” recipe seemed to have worked! I slept without any nightmares the rest of the night. But now that I was fully awake, why did the ringing persist? Ah, that's because it actually wasn't in my ear. And there I thought I was developing some kind of internal alarm clock in addition to all my other newly found psychic talents.
Could it be the cell phone? And where did I put it? As the phone continued ringing next to my ear, I groped around the nightstand, trying to locate it and finally digging it out from underneath a napkin, a magazine and an open book. So, that's where the good, old Incognito from St. Petersburg was - my latest valiant attempt to master Russian!
“Hello,” I said groggily, wondering who could be calling at such hour.
“Jade, darling!” The reception was not great, but the voice in the phone was unmistakable. The one and only voice. The voice I loved. I did a sharp intake of breath and jumped out of bed.
“Paul, Paul, it's you!” I yelled into the phone, while doing a wild African dance of ultimate jubilation around the bedroom. “Oh, my God, it's you!”
I was so ecstatic, I couldn't contain myself.
“Yes, my sweetheart.”
“Where have you been?! I missed you so much!” At that, my voice cracked and I was ready to start crying. I blinked, trying to stop the welling up of tears that made everything swim in front of my eyes.
“I am sorry, darling, I couldn't get to the phone. I had an opportunity to interview some tribal leaders, who may be connected to the piracy in the Gulf of Eden. I couldn't pass it up and there was no reception whatsoever. But you'd be happy to know that Front Line Essays are progressing very well. I am scheduled to visit two refugee camps tomorrow and the day after. And then, a few more interviews and I should be done. I'm running ahead of schedule and I might be back home sooner than I thought. Isn't that great?!”
“But I was so worried that you didn't call! I thought... I thought you forgot about me or... that you were in danger!” I exclaimed, feeling rather emotional.
“I'm so sorry, sweetie, I miss you so much and I would have never forgotten to call you – you know that! I think about you all the time.” Paul's voice was apologetic.
“Really?” I said and sniffed. I couldn't recall being this sappy ever before in my whole life. Boy, but this pregnancy was turning me into a basket case! I took a deep breath, trying to calm down. Paul doesn't need this. He has enough danger and problems to deal with without my whining.
“Darling, are you okay?” said Paul, his voice starting to sound worried. “What's going on? Is something wrong?”
I couldn't tell him. I simply couldn't. It would do no good to try to explain that the paradise he convinced me to move into was hardly paradise at all. I couldn't explain to him what I was going through emotionally, as my pregnancy progressed. I couldn't explain about Rebbecca's rape, about Jason, about my secret investigation, about Adelaide and Princess Lily, and about me becoming a member of a knitting club. Actually, I was quite sure he'd never believe that last bit and that he’d probably think I was pulling his leg.
I took a deep breath. “Everything's fine, darling,” I said in a sunshine voice. “It's really nice here, I met some wonderful people and Rachel has come this last weekend for a visit. My writing is progressing and everything's well.”
“Jade, sweetie?” The voice in the phone was drifting in and out amidst constant cracking and clicking. “The recept... really ...ad,” I could discern Paul saying. “I am ...raid to lose y... any ...oment.”
“I can hear you,” I responded hastily. “Let's keep talking for as long as we can.”
“Okay. I am so ...lad ev...thing is going ...ell,” he yelled into the phone. “... was concer... you would ...ate it ...ere.”
“Oh, no,” I assured him. “I don't hate it at all. It's very...um... interesting here.”
“What a r...ief. I so miss ...u,” he went on. “I so ...ant to ...ug and ...iss you.”
“Me too,” I sighed longingly. My ey
es closed and a picture of myself in Paul's arms, being gently caressed by his lips, drifted into my mind.
“I wan... ...o ...iss you... belly ...o ...uch, I ...ant ...o ....iss you ...ll over.” The reception was getting worse.
“I love you,” I whispered, sending him a kiss all the way to Somalia through that uncooperative phone, through the airwaves, the continents and the oceans, willing for him to receive it, to feel it's heat on his lips.
“Oh, ...y ...ove, ” I felt, rather than heard, Paul's moan in response and I knew that he did receive it. Then there was a click and we were disconnected.
I sat by the phone, hoping he'd call back. But he didn't. As I made myself some toast, poured tea and set the table for breakfast, I smiled. Even though the reception was bad, even though we were disconnected, still, I did get a chance to talk to him, to hear his voice. And what's more, I knew now with certainty that he was all right. I was relieved and I was happy.
Smile still on my face, I reviewed my schedule for the day. Aha, the interview with Peter Burns, ten a.m., his residence - number twelve, Dudley Court.
I quickly dressed in a dark blue, business-like tunic with mandarin collar and straight linen pants, picked up my notepad, pen and a small recorder, and locked up the house. It was only nine thirty and the drive to Peter's house couldn't be more than ten minutes. But being early for my interviews was my professional habit. I preferred to wait for my subjects, rather than have them waiting for me. Besides, being early had another important advantage: there was time to take a good look around and get a better feel for the place or, with luck, even a better feel for the character of a person to be interviewed.
I drove past mansions recessed in extensive gardens behind closed gates and tall walls. Finally, I made a sharp turn into a long, winding driveway of the number twelve. A large, Tudor style mansion appeared without warning from around the bend. My Land Rover moved silently along the fine gravel of the driveway. I parked on the side of the main house, in the area apparently designated as a service or guest parking. It was only nine forty.