Mason headed to the door from the room, beckoning Margo and Frank and they followed him with their glasses of wine, holding hands. They entered a long, dark hallway with paintings on the walls, images on which were barely visible in the unlit room. Something like dragons or dogs.
“I think I’ll give you two bottles of wine,” Mason said, without turning to his guests. “Really, why only one? I will be pleased to think that you are opening these bottles, tasting the wine for the first time. You need a decanter! I’ll give you one, I have extra. This way, please.”
They left the hallway and stepped into a small foyer with a heavy door to another room. The floor here was made of black and white tiles just like at the front of the house. There was a small couch, a vase with a tall plant, a tablet on the wall near the door and also a photograph of some strange man.
“Is this your relative?” Margo asked, pointing to the photo.
“It’s someone I looked up to,” Mason said. “I considered him to be my mentor. He was a noble man. Misunderstood in his days.”
Frank didn’t care about the photo or misunderstood men. He walked straight to the tablet.
“What do you use this for?” he asked, thinking that he could sell this thing too. Money was money. Margo would probably call him a common thief, but then again, he probably wasn’t going to be with her forever. Well, unless they would really …
Frank didn’t have time to finish his thought before Mason started talking.
“This thing turns on the light in the room and adjusts the temperature. I installed it, but still can’t figure it out. You, young generation, have grown up with this.”
“We can help you to figure it out,” Margo said. Frank had no idea why she said it. Margo’s hand held her purse. She looked at Frank with some kind of longing in her eyes.
“I’m so glad I met you,” she whispered.
Frank didn’t like it. He didn’t like it at all.
Mason opened the door manually. It wasn’t easy for him, the door seemed heavy, and Frank rushed to the rescue when the door slowly opened. The room was dark.
“Why didn’t it turn on the light? It should all be automatic!” Mason said. He sounded upset. “These guys insisted it’s the best thing that was ever invented. They were good salesmen. I need to figure it out and turn on the light. I try not to express my feelings verbally, but sometimes it’s such an urge.”
“Go for it, Mason,” Frank said. “We can handle it.”
Mason chuckled. “I like your sense of humor,” he said.
He pressed the screen of the tablet and it presented the buttons with numbers.
“Come in, guys. I think they said it’s motion activated. Is that a thing? Maybe we have to enter first. Maybe I have to press two. I think it was two. Or three? What if I activate something different? Shoot. I came here two days ago. How did it work?”
Margo pushed the button, which held her bag closed and it clicked. Frank thought about popping a bottle of wine that cost a thousand bucks and fucking on some couch from Asia or Europe. They went into the room together. He was a little behind so he could see her and her movements. He didn’t like her look and she had the gun in her purse.
Something creaked behind their backs.
The door slammed shut, leaving them in complete darkness.
“What an idiot,” Frank whispered. “He pushed the wrong button.”
“I want to see you at this age,” Margo said. “Mason, it’s still dark in here!” she cried.
He didn’t answer.
“Mason?” Margo called.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” his voice came a few seconds later. Only he didn’t sound from behind the door, but from somewhere above, as if through a microphone. Then the room began to glow with light. It was reddish at first and then brighter and brighter.
Frank expected to see neat rows with bottles of wine along the walls.
There were no rows and no bottles.
“What the fuck is this?” Frank asked.
“Mason!” Margo screamed. “Mason, I think you brought us to the wrong room.”
“No, no,” the host began again. “You are where you’re supposed to be. Welcome to my wine room. Or collection room. Or the room that makes happy people. It has other names too, depending on my mood.”
Frank looked around, not knowing where he was. Margo gripped his hand so tightly that it hurt and he pushed her away.
He blinked, rubbed his eyes, but nothing disappeared. There were two similar operating tables before them, handcuffs chained to the walls, some strange things, for what purpose Frank didn’t know and didn’t want to know.
“Mason, is this a joke?” he asked.
“What exactly?” their host asked.
Margo rushed to the door and put the glass of unfinished wine near it on the floor.
“Mason, can I get out? I need some fresh air. I don’t feel well.”
“Poor girl,” the host replied. “I understand you.”
“Mason,” Margo said less patiently. “Let me out right now!”
“Us!” Frank screamed. “Let us out!”
“Mason!” Margo shouted again and knocked on the door. When no answer followed, she began to pound on the door. It was covered with some soft material that muted the sounds. “Mason! What is this?”
“You wanted to know about my hobby. Here it is.”
“Mason,” Margo said, “what is going on?”
“You’re so clever. You even have a gun in your pocketbook. You have to understand what’s going on,” Mason said.
Margo and Frank exchanged glances.
“The gun is just for ... I always carry it with me,” Margo stammered. “We didn’t mean to hurt you.”
“I have lived far too long in this world not to see a blatant shit. You guys are good, honestly, I like you, but you came to the wrong house.”
“What is he saying? I don’t understand.” Margo’s breathing quickened, her face paled.
“What do you want?” Frank asked.
“You are my hobby.”
“I don’t understand,” Margo muttered. “I don’t understand anything. Mason, open the door, please.”
“He won’t,” Frank said looking around, understanding everything. He saw something brownish near one of the tables. He came closer, bent down. It was blood, it was dry blood. The blood in Frank’s veins froze. His muscles became stiff. He looked at the spot, unable to move.
“What is it?” Margo asked, trembling.
Her voice brought him back to life. Frank threw his glass away and didn’t turn when it crashed. He rushed to Margo and tried to tear the bag out of her hands without saying anything. Margo screamed and tried to resist, but it was useless. Maybe her brain was bigger than his, but her physical strength was no match for him. He seized the bag from her, pulled out the gun, and tossed the bag into the corner of the room.
“That’s interesting,” the voice came from above. “Very interesting.”
Margo tried to protect herself with her hands.
“Don’t be stupid!” Frank cursed her. He went to the door and began to shoot at it, or where, presumably, the lock would be. He fired seven times before the gun just clicked.
“Fuck!” Frank cried. “Damn, dammit, dammit!”
“It’s not good to scream at a woman,” Mason said. “No wonder she said that you are rude.”
“Let us go, now!” Frank hit the door. He slammed it and almost twisted his shoulder.
“He will release us.” Margo whispered. “Right?”
Frank remembered about his phone and snatched it out of his shorts pocket. Turning it on, he saw that there were no stripes of connection.
“I don’t have a signal,” he said. “Check yours.”
Margo rushed to her bag and fished the phone out of it. Looking at Frank with her wide eyes, she shook her head.
“Yes, I forgot to mention,” Mason said, “the insulation, unfortunately, doesn’t allow the signal to go through.”
&
nbsp; “No!” Frank screamed as he threw the phone against the wall. It crashed and landed on the floor in a bunch of debris, next to splashes of wine. “It’s all your fault!” he shouted at Margo, who only blinked. “You wanted us to come here! You wanted us to rob him!”
Margo blinked for a couple of seconds before her eyes narrowed and she started yelling back at Frank.
“I wanted something completely different! You fucking maniac! You have to kill everyone! I should have handed you to the police or better yet, shot you right there!”
“Bitch!”
“You’re a moron!”
“I know you wanted to kill me today!”
“You are an idiot! We are together!”
Something like a choked giggle came from above.
“Who the hell are you?” Frank yelled at the ceiling. “Who are you? What do you want?”
“I’ll tell you, don’t worry. I really love to talk about myself. A side effect of narcissism. It’ll take some time, because I can’t wait to make happy people out of you.”
“What does that mean?” Frank asked in a whisper.
“What did he say?” Margo asked.
“He said happy people,” Frank said. He had never shaken in his life, but now he realized that he was not only shaking, but his legs were bent and he was almost fainting. “Out of us.”
CHAPTER 6
MASON
Mason sat in his small room on the soft sofa behind the control panel. In front of him were three monitors showing everything that happened in the room. It was a wine or collection room for his guests. It was more like a playroom or operating room for him. A microphone stood before him and another portrait of his idol, Walter Freeman. Several buttons were responsible for the processes of the room: light, lock systems, etc. Several years ago he managed without all of this, but now it became much more interesting with technological progress.
He watched his new subjects with concentration. He had never been in a situation like this and he’d been in many unique situations. He had never before had the pleasure of facing real sociopaths who wanted to kill him. He couldn’t wait to see what was there in their brains.
Now a woman, a very beautiful woman he had to say, sat on the floor and sobbed, and the man pounded on the door periodically and blasphemed. Watching them was captivating, and he could do it for hours, but they were waiting for his story.
“I have a degree in psychology,” Mason began his short story. He really couldn’t wait to get down to them. He drank wine from his glass and shook his head. He had expected more from Gaia Gaja of this year.
“I read people like, for the lack of a better term for you, I’ll say books. I have come across romantic novels, comedies. You guys are a definite psychological thriller.”
“What?” the voice came from a column.
Mason ignored the question, drank more wine, frowned, and decided to get another bottle. While he was walking to another room, he heard screams, questions, blows. They acted like animals. Couldn’t they wait quietly?
A glass of ordinary Burgundy gave him much more pleasure. It wasn’t collectible, but beautiful anyway. It became vintage after so many years in his house. In his real wine room where he had never brought his guests. When did he buy this wine? Two thousand twelve?
“Calm down, I’m here,” he said patiently. They behaved like idiots and he couldn’t do anything about it. Now. Everyone before them did as well, they weren’t the first, but these were the first who wanted to kill him.
“Where was I?” Mason asked, watching his patients. The woman was on the floor, the man walked in circles. He stopped near one of the tables and tried to turn it over. He wasn’t the first. When that didn’t work out, he kicked the table and howled in pain or anger.
“Oh, yes. I’m a psychiatrist and used to have a great career a few years back. I had millionaires and movie stars among my clients. I also studied pathological anatomy. Very interesting, as you can imagine.”
“Let us out!” the woman shouted.
“Calm down, it’s useless,” the man said.
Mason didn’t like to be interrupted, but he didn’t chastise his patients, so he wouldn’t lose the thread of his story.
“You asked about the portrait I have on the wall and I said that this was my idol, who wasn’t understood or appreciated during his life. Or after. His name was dishonored after his death. His name is Walter Freeman. Do you know who he was?”
“Let us out, you madman!” a response came.
“Of course you don’t know him.” Mason shrugged. “You are uneducated peasants, but you are still extremely interesting for my research. So, Dr. Freeman was the father of lobotomy. Lobotomy is such an operation, during which a part of the brain is removed or alternated. This operation helped many people to cope with their demons. The results were not always successful in the public eye, but for me and other Freeman supporters, each of them was a victory. Dr. Freeman wanted to help those who were rejected by society. Those who couldn’t help themselves. He was the only one at the time who drew attention to the problem of people with schizophrenia, split personality disorder, and other psychological diseases. Some people were depressed or suicidal, not really psychologically in need of a surgery, but their relatives considered it a good option and they were happy, because they got back happy husbands, wives, or kids. Unfortunately, he wasn’t interested in experimenting with animals first or understanding the psychological aspect of the brain after the operation. It’s interesting to me.” Mason scoffed.
“What are you going to do? Are you going to do a lobotomy?” the woman asked in a trembling voice. “But we’re not crazy!”
“Dr. Freeman liked to do the surgeries,” Mason continued. “He was brilliant. He did several operations a day. Total—thousands. I was lucky. I attended several of his procedures as a student at the end of his career. It was incredible, fascinating to see. His hands performed manipulations with unbelievable speed and accuracy. The patient was ready to go before you knew it. Dr. Freeman didn’t have any special education for this type of procedure, but he was talented by nature. He didn’t use face masks or gloves. I remember everything like it was yesterday.”
“He won’t perform lobotomies on us,” Mason heard. He took a sip of wine before continuing the story.
“At first people accepted him, they applauded him, but then they tossed him away like a shabby shoe. I couldn’t betray him like his other followers. I visited him several times before he died and promised to continue his work. Lobotomy distracts me from real life problems. There are so many possibilities. Dr. Freeman didn’t like to watch his patients after operations, but for me this aspect is the most fascinating. I want to see how the personality changes when a person returns to his original state of a clean slate.”
“Mason.” The woman stood up. “Mason, let’s talk. Please.”
Mason drank more wine. He thought about starting with a little dose of gas to shut them up, but keep them alert so they would understand him. Unfortunately he’d had a bad experience with this. He could never get the exact dose.
“I became passionate about the lobotomy. I wanted to follow in Dr. Freeman’s footsteps and also make my childhood dream come true. I don’t know what you have dreamed about, but I wanted to work with the human brain. Of course no one would allow me to perform a lobotomy and just, you know, open a skull. People just don’t understand. So I bought a van, almost like the one you brought today, to transfer my possessions, and named it in honor of Freeman. When I had free time, I traveled across the country, around the cities, and conducted operations. I was looking for patients among the homeless. Oh, you have no idea what choices there are. So many sick people and people that no one would look for. They were unhappy, desperate, and I changed that. Then I became older and trips like that came with difficulty, plus I wanted more refined patients. Those who didn’t show signs of mental illness to begin with. So I built this room.”
Mason took a sip of wine, picked up Freeman’s
portrait, put it back in place. His patients were shouting something, but he was tired of listening to them.
“I got married by that time and everything I said about my wife was true. We tried to have children and she was depressed after the doctors said it was impossible for her to get pregnant. I built this room and lead my first operation. It was successful, my wife was as happy as ever. I enjoyed watching her. Unfortunately, one day I didn’t look after her and she left the house and ran to the road, where she ended under a car. The doctor who carried out her autopsy didn’t even think about checking her brain. I started to look for people for my surgeries in different places. They were mostly women because it was easy with them. I performed a lot of lobotomies, but then I wanted to go further. Not that I wanted to outdo my teacher, I just wanted to know how the brain works. What part is responsible for consciousness and so on? It’s a remarkable science.”
“He’s a real maniac,” he heard a whisper. This angered him. He was a scientist, he was the one who changed people’s lives, not a maniac, but it would have to be explained later. They would understand it themselves. Mason was drinking wine, watching the couple whispering in his room. They probably tried to come up with a plan of how to attack him and escape. They weren’t the first.
“Then I switched to couples,” Mason said. “It is quite exciting to observe the reaction of a husband when I work with his wife and vice versa. Which of you will be first? I don’t think you care about each other though.”
“Let us out!” the woman yelled again.
“It’s interesting, of course, exclusively from a scientific point of view,” Mason said. “I chose a very easy way to meet patients. Who needs anything complicated when you can do it so easily? I went to nice restaurants, chose suitable couples, celebrated my unhappy birthday. It didn’t work every time, but more often than you would believe. People love money. As soon as I mentioned money, their brains stopped working. They just saw dollar signs, they wanted to be a part of my last will.” Mason snickered. “So easy. Easy-peasy. It was easy with you too, but different. I realized it as soon as I saw you. You evoked a special interest in me. You don’t meet sociopaths every day, let alone two! A couple! You lied to each other every living second, you couldn’t stand each other! I thought you would figure me out, especially when I mentioned Phoebe. My wife’s name wasn’t Phoebe, I just heard what you said. You manipulate people, you probably use things like this all the time yourself, but you didn’t suspect anything. You were too concentrated on your own benefits, on your own brilliance. You thought you could fool anyone. You just didn’t think that for every smart ass there was an ass even smarter. Of course, I wanted to bring you to my room during your first visit, but one of you became ill. I decided that it was for the best to forget about you. I don’t like complication as I said and I had to throw away a wonderful carpet, but then Margo called me. She decided to leave her husband after her first visit and wrap me around her finger. Well, I couldn’t deny a beautiful woman. However, today everything was different. You looked into each other’s eyes and you had a different energy between you. Something changed during this time. Can you tell me what?”
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