Erik, being staff, asked around U.B.C. and got permission to use
one of the Psychology department's laboratories which were designed
to monitor nervous system reactions to stimulus and stress.
Unfortunately, the department demanded that for liability reasons,
one of the departments staff must be present during all
testing.
Fortunately the only person free was Dr. Schonfeld, MD, PhD and one of U.B.C.'s leading lights in the study of psychopaths. This was not fortunate because of the qualifications, but because Dr. Schonfeld was Dr. Emma Schonfeld, a woman. Maya was a little intimidated at first by all the letters behind her name, but Dr. Schonfeld's appearance belied her impressive resume.
She was in her late thirties, and not at all professorial. Middle height with sandy hair falling out of a slightly dishevelled chignon, and hazel eyes that were frank and appraising, but quite warm. She reminded Maya of some of the professional and career women customers from her old coffee-shop job. The ones that always asked her how her day was going, and were pleased whenever she made the effort to remember their orders without prompting. She felt herself relaxing in the other woman's presence.
Once Erik had explained that Maya seemed to have paranormal powers in animal magnetism, Emma was eager to help design a test. The equipment she chose was the latest version of the polygraph lie detector. Emma did not bat an eyelid when both Maya and Erik undressed, but she did pull some standard release agreements from a drawer and had them each sign one.
"Even with the signed release, I would be thankful if you did not mention that these tests included the use of a nude young woman," Emma said. She had to remind herself not to stare at Erik, who was in an embarrassing way. When Maya pulled a condom out of her tiny purse and asked her to turn her back for a moment she complied, despite being wildly curious. She allowed herself a quick peek to make sure that the young woman was not being violated.
After an hour and a half of constant testing, Erik ejected the memory stick containing the polygraph data, and the comments that he had been keying in to explain the timing points. It was Emma who suggested that they go to the faculty lounge for a drink and discuss the test.
"What I saw on the polygraph was not unusual. You tell me that there are these auras, and since there are two of you that sense them, I will not doubt you. I am sure you had a good reason to monitor the body's reactions with the instruments, but I think you are missing something. Something critical.
Think about what happened with the condom. Hey, I peeked, so sue me. Obviously these auras stimulate the sex organs, and obviously Maya is able to channel part of her aura through her hand."
Erik was silent, blushing and thinking. "Yes, I agree with you. We have so many basic tests to do and so much data to interpret that we have been purposefully ignoring the sexual effects. With sex there are just too many other variables and heightened senses that would confuse the data."
"So you don't think that these auras are a manifestation of the healing powers of the laying on of hands that have been documented for centuries, but as yet are scientifically unproven."
Maya listened to the two eggheads spew out their complex words and sipped her red wine. It was all so much blah- blah- blah to her. Besides, here she was sitting next to a very educated and successful woman, who was probably less than ten years older than her, and so she didn't want to listen to Erik. She could listen to him anytime.
She felt the urge to engage Emma in conversation. For some reason she didn't want the older woman to have the impression that she was just the bimbo assistant on this research profect. She screwed up her courage and took a breath.
"So, what do you do?" she asked Emma, interrupting Erik's jibber jabber. Always a gentleman, he politely stopped talking.
"I do research into sick minds," Emma said. "Right now, because of the serial killer that is loose in the Vancouver area, I am on loan from U.B.C. to the police as an advisor to the special task force that is working the case."
"Oh! Oh, I heard about that even in California," Maya said. "Lots of low income young women have disappeared."
"That is the case. The shame of it is that because they were all troubled women, until recently they were treated as individual missing person cases. As if they were runaways."
"And now they think it's, like, a mass murderer?" Maya asked.
"A serial killer. If a psychopath is of low birth, or low education, then at their worst they become serial killers. Usually after four or five murders they are caught, and that's the end of them. The other kind is far worse."
"The other kind?"
"Much the same mental disorder but born into privilege, so they are educated and pursue vocations of power such as officers, lawyers, bankers, politicians. At their worst you get mass murderers. Thousands, perhaps millions of murders. Their individual evil is multiplied and expanded in relation to how powerful they become in society."
"There are lots of movies about serial killers. How come there are no movies about these other kind if they are so dangerous?"
"Well, that would be telling. That is one of the chapters of the book I am writing," said Emma. "Let's just say that there are a lot of powerful people who don't want the ordinary man thinking that a lot of the powerful people that they work for may actually be psychos."
"Do you enjoy working with the police?" Maya asked. Not only was this interesting, but she didn't get left behind like she was with all of Erik's babble.
"Absolutely not. The police are frustrated because they need a breakthrough and they aren't getting one. I am frustrated because I can't convince them that there must be more than one killer. At least three. One kidnapping women of the night. One kidnapping children from playgrounds. One attacking women along empty beach trails."
"I use the trails around U.B.C.. So does my friend. Is there anything we should know?"
"Only that psychos are not uncommon. One in a hundred, mostly male. That means that everyone knows one, whether they recognize it or not. They are usually pretty smart and excellent actors. They role play, and they are good at it. That's why they get away with so much. People believe their lies. You can look up the symptoms on the web. A number of sites show lists of questions to ask yourself about your boss or your boyfriend to measure the likelihood that he is a psycho."
"That doesn't help me recognize one on the trail," Maya observed. She looked around for the waitress. After all, she wasn't paying and she wasn't driving.
"Well," said Emma, "they are truly scary. They feel little empathy or sympathy. They don't feel guilt. They don't fight fair. For instance, they tend to strike first and hard without warning. Normal people don't do that. It means that normal people usually lose against them."
"Oh great. They sound like the vampires on TV shows. Do you guys want any more wine?"
"Yes, one more for me," Emma said. She gestured to the waitstaff for another round. "The man I studied under was an expert who worked for the prison system. After thirty years of working with psychos, his summary was that human kind needs to develop a foolproof test to spot all psychos, and then execute them before they can do any harm. He saw them as the source of most of the evil on the planet,.... yesterday, today, and tomorrow."
"Gee, they sound like, totally opposite to me," Maya observed. "Through my auras I feel other people's feelings. It's like the ultimate empathy, cause, like, I actually feel with them," said Maya, "I only wish that ..."
"Say that again," said Emma. She listened more carefully this time to what Maya was saying. "You may be on to something. I will have to see if anyone else has written anything about empaths being the opposite of psychos." She thought back on the tests she had observed today. "Can you use your aura with your clothes on?"
"No," replied Erik.
"He can't, I can," Maya said.
"And that hand thing, you know with the condom," said Emma. "Was that part of the test?" She watched Erik blush again, and she had to giggle.
"No, and you weren't supposed to peek," Erik spoke first. "The auras stimulate the senses, especially the sense of touch in the skin, thus the sexuality. The sexuality quickly overwhelms all the other feelings, so we sort of have no choice but to neutralize it."
"Then why her hand and not yours?"
"Because," Erik started, and then stopped in thought. "Because she can focus her aura with her hand. Maya, how can we test the strength of the aura coming from your hand?"
"You two can figure that out later. While we are all together, let me explain a problem that I have," said Emma. "The serial killer task force has me interview, or sit in on interviews, of suspects. They hope that I can pick up something from the suspects that will turn into a hard lead. I've given them nothing so far. The problem is that if the suspect is truly a psycho, then he is too smart to be caught out in word games.
I am desperate. It just came to me that maybe Maya should sit in with me on some of the interviews, but instead of joining the word games, just sit there and feel her aura. Obviously she has to be decently clothed, and there can be no hocus pocus. What do you think. Any chance of it working?"
"I'd like to help, really I would," replied Maya, "but I have only been practicing and exercising my aura for two weeks. I have only just learned how to adjust the power and a tiny bit of focus. It's not a crowd thing. It is very personal, person to person. I mean, like, how many people are in these interviews?"
"Will you try?"
Maya looked at Erik. He shrugged. "Will she be in any danger?"
"Much less for her than for me, because there will be no need to introduce my assistant. The suspects are all told my name. It always worries me that possible psychos know my name, but that is a cost of being in the business."
* * *
Maya hated the task force's rented building as soon as she entered. It was a place filled with sorrow. Families and friends describing their lost ones. Women sobbing. Men looking angry. The interview room wasn't anything like on the TV cop shows. It was just a sparsely furnished office. No one way mirrors. No bright lights.
Maya knew it was impossible right from the start, but she stayed by Emma's side just so she could spend more time with her. Every moment she was here she felt as if she were withdrawing into herself. Once in the interview room she gave up. Besides the suspect there was also his lawyer and two detectives. Her aura could not distinguish between them. It was something she would have to practice. She shrugged and sat there patiently until the end, pretending to make notes, like a good assistant should.
There were short breaks between interviews. She pulled at the dowdy dark brown wool skirt that had cost her five dollars at a Kitsilano thrift store. She wore a black cotton blouse from the same shop, which had the advantage of a wide lapel, and therefore she could show a lot of her chest. The skirt itched and she tried to stop scratching at it. It was the best of a poor selection only because it had a tailored pleat at the back that swished as she walked.
She became sleepy in the close, airless room and she kept throwing her head to move her long blonde hair, and each time she would yet again realize that she had it braided and pulled up in a bun, to make her look more studious.
After the final interview, Emma looked at her hopefully, and Maya shrugged and repeat yet again, "It's all a jumble because there are so many men in the room."
"That's okay. I got nowhere with my questions, either. You can see how frustrating it is."
"Can we get out of here now?" Maya asked. "This is a place of so much sadness that I am really bummed out."
"Of course. Just wait for me outside. I have to file my report. It won't take long. I mean, I have nothing to say. Then what? Can I treat you to a late lunch, or do you want to go home. Did you park at the University?"
"I think I want to go straight home. I don't need to sit in any more crowded rooms. I bussed to U.B.C.. I live in Kits, if that is okay."
They were still talking as they hit the hallway, Emma to go one way, Maya the other. Maya was putting on her jacket and walking backwards still listening to Emma. She really liked Emma. She backed onto a foot and stumbled and would have gone down with a thump if a big hand hadn’t grabbed hers to steady her.
"Sorry, I was just leaving," she said to a man large enough to be one of the detectives, and she used his hand to pull herself back up. She suddenly felt strange, very strange, like a black shadow had moved over her eyes, and there was a smell of black. She let go of the man's hand with another mumbled thanks and stood back while the big man's group went by and into the interview room. The big man did not go in.
She leaned against the wall of the hallway and caught her breath and got her eyes back working again. It had all been quite surreal and upsetting. She made a decision and turned a one-eighty and hurried after Emma. She found her typing into a computer terminal behind the reception desk. She shook her shoulder.
"See behind me? Don't look," she murmured, "see the big man outside the interview room? Is he a detective?"
"Why do you ask?"
"Cause if he isn't a detective, you need to interview him."
Emma stopped typing and jumped up to go talk to the uniformed officer at reception. They looked through the sign-in sheet, and at the interview room schedule. The officer used the phone and a detective came out of one of the back rooms and spoke to Emma.
Maya was bored. She minimized the window showing Emma's report and looked on the computer for a game of FreeCell. Playing FreeCell always calmed her nerves. Sometimes she even won. That is how Emma found her ten minutes later. Maya was feeling much better, and sat and waited in silence while Emma finished her report.
They didn't speak of the big man again until they were sitting in Emma's black Jetta. "He is a person of no interest to the task force, or at least he was of no interest until I asked the detective to check him out. He had given a ride to one of the women supplying information about some street walkers who had disappeared. She was probably also a street walker. They have his name, so they are starting a background check."
"He smelled funny," Maya said.
"Well, that makes sense. The first run on the name showed him as a farmer. He owns a farm south of here."
"When I touched him everything went black. Even his smell was black."
Emma laughed lightly. "And what does black smell like?"
"Like, um, like, like burnt toast. You know, like really black charred toast."
"Toast, not farm animals, or dung?"
"It was charred toast, and it wasn't my nose that was smelling it, it was my brain. I grabbed his hand when I tripped. Afterwards I couldn't warm up. I felt, like, really weird."
"Well I'm glad I didn't let the detective speak to you. He would have laughed me off the task force. I just told him that he fit the profile I was working on, and someone should speak with him. They will. They are grasping at any straw."
* * * * *
* * * * *
MAYA'S AURA - the Awakening by Skye Smith