That night Nick sat in his office after the others had left and thought about what he had gained that day. In addition to more energy, and from that a longer life, he now had the abilities and knowledge of a master motivator, a man whose entire life had been devoted to helping people realize their full potential. Nick could feel the thoughts in his head when he closed his eyes but they were tangled and confused. He needed to organize them so he could see exactly what he had, and then analyze that to see if it was what he needed. He turned off his desk lamp and leaned back, welcoming the darkness that crowded in around him.
It had been a hectic day—he had finally finished his paper and handed it in to Carmichael, only to have the professor assign him a review and a new genetics text. It was an honor to be picked for the project, and if it went over well Carmichael might send it to one of the academic journals for publication, but it was an added headache and Nick had almost turned it down. Almost. In the end he had accepted it, of course, well aware of how rare such chances were and grateful that he had been chosen.
After getting the details he had headed to the library to research the author and his past works before actually settling down in a chair with the thick new book itself. The next thing he knew, it was six o’clock and Gordo was leaning over him, inquiring about dinner plans. Hillary had gone out on another date, so the two of them got Mexican food and then checked out a new movie that was on both of their lists. Nick had enjoyed the break, relieved that they had both gotten over the tension of the other day. Then Gordo had gone home to do some homework and Nick had headed back to the office to try and read another chapter or two.
Now the clock read 1:37 and his head was spinning from terms like anonucleide mixmitosis and hybernary reoxidation procedure, and the only sound in the building was the pounding in his forehead and the jackhammer drumbeat that echoed through his chest. Time for a break from work, and a chance to think over the morning’s events a little more carefully.
Nick straightened up and levered himself out of his chair, back popping as he stretched and yawned. He’d been sitting for far too long—time to take a walk. He locked the office behind him, then headed downstairs to the soda machine, mind lost in thought as his body took the steps out of habit. What did Williams’ expertise have to say for itself?
He paused on a landing—fortunately not the same one from that night weeks before, although he still shuddered at the thought—and concentrated on the new information in his head, trying to fit it into his own realm of experience. There was a good deal about self-confidence, about making one’s own choices in life and sticking to them, but Nick filed that away for a later date. At the moment, believing in his own ability wasn’t the problem. There was also a lot about having a positive attitude in general, how that could affect the whole nature of a person’s encounters and thus how well those situations turned out, but Nick only rifled through that before storing it safely in his head. That still wasn’t it. But what he was looking for had to be in here somewhere!
He concentrated again, squeezing his eyes shut until they threatened to throb in retaliation, and visualized a table of contents the same way he had with Charlie. It took a minute, and his legs ached from standing, but finally the mental image formed and Nick scanned it eagerly. Martial Arts—he skimmed that one and was pleased to find that Tai Chi, Akido, and a little Karate had now been added to his list of talents, but then continued on. Let’s see, Financial Transactions, Television Procedures, Gambling Systems—that one was a little surprising, but everyone had some vice or another, it seemed—Hypnosis, Driving . . . perhaps Self-help? No, that one just had the stuff about self-confidence and positive outlooks he had already run across. Ah, what about Expansion Limits? He mentally opened the file and scanned its contents. Bingo! This was all about the upper limit of human potential, and mentioned some of the possibilities. Nick’s imaginary eyes widened at the list he was “reading,” and he could feel a smile moving across his face. This was it!
Unfortunately, as he read further it became evident that this was only a theory on Williams’ part. The man had been interested in such possibilities, but hadn’t bothered to research them thoroughly, preferring to deal with what people could accomplish right now. Nick’s spirits fell as he realized that the area he had been counting on was only an amusing little hobby for this man, and had been treated as such. Still, he had included mention of the possibility in the last chapter of his book, and had conferred with a handful of experts on the subject. The list came immediately to Nick’s mind and there were five people on it. Two were researchers at a government think-tank in Washington, a husband-and-wife team, and one was a neurologist from Vienna. The fourth was the leader of a small religious cult in L.A., and the last one was a professor of psychology—at the University of Chicago.
Nick straightened up, eyes snapping open as he did so, and caught his breath as the information sank into his brain. He could dimly sense that all of the new knowledge had found its way to the appropriate spots in his head, and could feel the difference in his movements as his body assimilated fifteen years of martial arts training into its menu of options, but his attention was focused on one piece in particular, and one name.
Dr. Irving K. Alexander. Professor of Psychology at University of Chicago, former department head from 1991 to 1998. Three national awards for his work on the hidden side of human ability, dispelling phobias and releasing unrealized potential, and one for his treatise on the theoretical limits of such ability and how it might be unlocked. Retired from teaching as of 2006, and scheduled to retire permanently in 2010, when Williams had hoped he might return to writing full-time. Nick nodded. This was the man he wanted, the mind he needed, and he was perfect. Old, far past his prime, probably teetering on the edge of senility—but his head held all the information he had ever gathered, and in Nick’s hands it could all be utilized.
He absently continued downstairs, stopping at the drink machine as his hand dug for change, but he didn’t even bother to remove the Coke once it slid down into the pickup tray. His mind was already focused on what he would say to the old professor when he went to his office tomorrow, and how he would manage to drain the man without drawing any attention to it. Tomorrow.
Nick started up the stairs again, wondering briefly why he hadn’t gotten anything to drink but then shrugging and forgetting about it as he turned back to the plans he was starting to shape. He hadn’t expected to need more than Williams for this, but Alexander could be a godsend, an old man ripe for the picking, and then he would be ready to face Daniel. Ready to face any of them.
Nick had to remind himself to get his jacket out of his office before he stepped out into the cold, and he hardly felt the wind that cut through his clothes and whipped his hair into a frenzy. The walk home was all a blur, and Nick only barely remembered unlocking his door, stumbling into his room, and flopping onto his bed, as if it were a dream he had. Then he was in the realm of real dreams, where an old man shriveled beneath his fingers and he swelled to godlike proportion, and he slept soundly, mind churning all the while. When the alarm woke him in the morning he had a hard time remembering who he was and where, and gave himself a scare when he called for a wife who wasn’t there.
I’m Nick Gordon, he told himself as he stumbled into the bathroom. The haggard face that regarded him from the mirror agreed with him, and he took a deep breath, vaguely remembering his actions of the previous night and the dreams that had followed them.
“Get a grip on yourself, Nick,” he muttered out loud, running a hand through his hair and heading for the kitchen to rustle up some milk and a stale box of cereal. He hadn’t expected Williams’ memories to hit him so hard, or to lose his self-awareness like he had last night. He worried for a moment that he might be becoming obsessed with his plan, and cautioned himself to slow down and try to go on with his life as before.
Fortunately he had class that day, and even as he realized that he found his mind slipping back into the comforting routine of plotting out what he would say to his students, and what diagrams he would use to illustrate the cell structure principles they were currently dealing with. He could feel another’s thoughts behind his, offering suggestions on how to teach and what to say, and occasionally he felt a question from Amy, but he pushed them back and concentrated on his own agenda and gradually they receded to a faint murmur.
That’ll show you, Nick thought to the extra minds he was hosting, and finished his milk in a gulp, standing up and grabbing his books on the way to the door. This is my head, my body, and I’m in control. Don’t forget it.