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I head toward the gym pod but James points in a different direction. “Let’s try one of the conference rooms instead.”
I match his firm stride, but it’s all for show. I feel anything but firm. I doubt my hacking feat will be enough to trump both my outburst and meltdown. James leads us to conference room C and closes the door behind us. There’s nothing but a table, a dry erase board and an oil painting occupying the area. Bright white lights hum overhead.
James stops in front of the painting and stares at it, hands clasped behind his back. The image is abstract, resembling a thick forest set ablaze. The tree trunks are twisted slashes of black and blue; the flames angry strokes of yellow, orange and red. Heaving a sigh, he moves away from the painting. Full of curiosity, I peer at the signature in the corner of the canvas. It reads “J. McCray.” I blink.
“You painted that?” I ask, incredulously.
He ignores my question, lays his hands flat on the table and leans his weight forward. “That was some impressive computer work,” he says.
“Thank you.” I sense a but and I brace myself for it.
He’s quiet for a long moment, assessing, probably trying to decide how to best handle me.
“I thought we had agreed to trust each other.” James walks to the dry erase board, takes a red marker from the tray and twirls it between thumb and forefinger.
I don’t want to justify myself, but I can’t help it. “Yeah, well, it’s not easy when you aren’t the one holding the aces under your sleeve. You don’t give me enough to go by.”
With measured steps, James walks back to the table and stands the marker on the wooden surface, its red tip pointing toward the ceiling.
James rests his right elbow on his cupped left hand and taps an index finger on his temple. “True. But that doesn’t change the fact that you’d agreed to trust me.”
I’ve nothing to say to that.
James nods and says, “I hope it won’t happen again. I hope you have no more doubts.”
“Um, I guess not, but it would’ve been nice to know all about Zero Breach and AR-Tech, who Elliot is, who you are, the attacks on the clinics and all that.”
“I won’t always be able to tell you everything, Marci. I wish we’d had more time to prepare you and tell you more, but these past few days have been very demanding on everyone. I’m sure you realize that.”
“I know. I just saw you with Elliot and lost it. I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”
James put his hands out and says, “Just what I wanted to hear.”
“I do have a question about something Elliot said to me.”
James frowns. “Something he said to you? When?”
“Just now, outside by the coffee shop.”
“He saw you?”
I nod. “I waited inside the coffee shop until I thought he’d left. When I got on my bike, though, he was waiting for me. It was like he’d sensed me from far away.” I scratch my head. “Maybe it’s just me. He did go in to get some coffee. I think I’m just paranoid.”
James appears very confused for a moment. He blinks his puzzlement away before asking, “What did he tell you?”
“Well, he wanted details on what we did to Xave. He must be some kind of sadist or something. Anyway, I told him I had better things to do than sit there talking about trivial stuff. He didn’t like the fact that I didn’t humor him. He said when his faction rises to the top, he’ll remember I chose to not be nice to him.”
With a deep breath, James changes his stance, placing both hands on his hips. “Two stupid things you did, Marci. Going into that coffee shop and falling into Elliot’s bad graces.”
What?! He can’t be serious. I was just getting coffee and telling some creepy stalker guy to buzz off. How is that my fault?
Before I can defend myself, James adds, “But I guess that’s my fault. I should have warned you against both. At any rate, I suppose you want to know what he meant with that comment.”
I nod.
“Elliot is the leader of the biggest Eklyptor faction in the world. There are others, of course, and as soon as they are in a position to do so, I’m sure the different factions will fight in a quest for power. Elliot plans to be victorious. As you can imagine, he doesn’t take anything he finds suspicious lightly. He’s very paranoid and has spies everywhere. He has infiltrated corporations, the police, Congress. He already distrusts me, so you have to be careful. Besides, other factions have their own moles everywhere, too.”
Holy crap! If I had any doubts this wasn’t a game, now they’re gone.
“I’ll be careful,” I promise.
“Good.”
“James,” I say, unable to look him in the eye. “What did he mean by saying I already chose a faction?” I think I know the answer, but I’d rather ask than jump to any more conclusions.
“He thinks I’m the leader of one such faction. He has no clue there are those who can resist infection. He’s asked me repeatedly to join him. I have refused enough times for him to be resentful and suspicious. That’s why I feel it’s time to make ourselves known.”
Oh crap, this is worse, way worse than I’ve anticipated. What have I gotten myself into? This hole keeps getting deeper and deeper.
We stay quiet for a minute, then James says, “With that out of the way ...” He lets the words linger, giving the red marker on the table a suggestive look. I follow his gaze and wonder if he expects me to write something on the board.
“Move it,” he says.
“Excuse me?”
“Move the marker.”
“Uh, o-kay.” I take a step forward.
“No. Without touching it.”
I laugh, a quick burst of air through my lips. “You’re kidding, right?”
James’s face is impassive. “No.”
“I—I can’t.”
“You did it to the glass by Aydan’s desk,” James says.
“I didn’t ... do that,” I protest without conviction.
James smiles. “Has this happened before?”
I blink repeatedly, unsettled by what he’s suggesting. There’s no way we’re having this conversation.
“Look ...” I want to say I hallucinated the whole thing, because there’s no way I made that glass move. But if James saw it move too, that shoots that theory down. “I don’t know what you think you saw, but what you’re suggesting is impossible.”
“Is it?” James smiles with calm satisfaction. “How about this? Is this impossible?”
I stare at him as if he’s gone crazy, wondering what he means. He goes on staring at me for five long seconds ... then he disappears! I yelp, my heart losing its rhythm, eyes widening in alarm. As I start to turn to look around, I hear the light switch behind me flip. Utter darkness fills the room.
My breathing kicks into high gear. I try to control it.
The Invisible Man.
H.G. Wells.
Impossible!
I inhale and count to five with each deep breath. I walk tentatively toward the door, arms outstretched in front of me.
“A little bit to the right,” James says. I whirl, startled, desperately trying to control the irrational panic that pounds in my chest. He’s to my right, but I can’t see a thing.
“Relax, Marci.” His voice is soothing. The same voice he used in our meditation session. “There’s no reason to freak out. It’s just me.”
“I’m going to turn on the light,” I snap.
“Not yet,” he says, still in that calm voice.
He didn’t just disappear. He didn’t. I repeat it over and over. But if that is true then how did he get to the light switch without me seeing him? I struggle to keep the irrational fear from driving me to tears. This can’t be happening. People can’t just dematerialize and put themselves back together in a different spot.
“Can you see your hands?” James asks.
“No. It’s pitch-black in here. Of course I can’t see.”
“Ask me how many fingers you’re holding up,” he says.
I flip him the bird.
“Oh, very classy, Marci. No need to be rude.”
“You saw that?” I ask with a slow, incredulous blink.
“Yes, and I can also see this red marker.”
I hear steps and then a snap. The sharp smell of dry erase marker hits my nose. The squeak and tap-tap of the felt-tip against the laminate surface are unmistakable. James must be writing on the board, except it sounds as if a hundred different people are doing it at the same time. A second later, the lights burst on, stinging my eyes. I blink, willing my sight to adjust. When it does, I gasp. The board is completely covered in red blocky letters.
The phrase “IgNiTe The ShAdOwS” repeats over and over and over, probably a hundred times, from the top left corner to the bottom right. I stare at James’s handiwork in disbelief, my heart no longer racing, panic no longer pounding in my breastbone. I am numb with awe.
I turn on my heels. James reclines against the wall by the light switch, arms crossed over his chest.
“Move the marker.” His eyes shift back to the table where the marker lays on its side. “It’s not impossible.”
After what I just saw—or didn’t see—James do, it’s easier to buy into the whole idea that I can actually move it. With tentative steps, I approach the table and place the tips of my fingers on its wooden surface, eyes glued on the marker. I concentrate on moving it, imagine my forefinger pushing it slightly. Nothing happens. Just like that, I lose what little confidence I had, regaining the sense that this is ridiculous. No one can move things with only their minds.
“Focus,” James whispers in a quiet, deep voice that soothes away my doubts.
I concentrate on nudging the marker with an imaginary finger. I try again and again, but nothing happens. Frustration builds up and I’m at the verge of slapping the marker off the table. I try a few more times until my head feels like it will implode from the wasted effort.
A sudden growl escapes from my lips, as in a desperate attempt I imagine my hand sweeping across the table, sending the marker crashing against the wall.
In the next second, time freezes. The marker doesn’t fly across the room. It’s still there on the table, except ... it’s rocking back and forth. My gaze snaps to James’s for confirmation.
He nods and smiles crookedly.
“I didn’t just ... ?” I can’t finish the sentence.
“Yes, you did.”
“Holy crap! How? I—I’ve never done anything like that. That’s just insane.” I press my hands against my temples. I bite my tongue to stop the big expletive burning on my tongue.
James picks up the marker. “One meditation session was all it took to unlock that talent. Think what you could do if you stopped being so ... hard-headed.”
“But ... but ...” I sputter, “how does it work?”
“The exact details are anyone’s guess. All we know is that punishing the agent through meditation causes benefits for the host. The more you meditate, the more you’ll understand how to use the agent to your advantage. You will even be able to develop the skills that you’d like to acquire. Telekinesis has come naturally to you, which is amazing. I had to work very hard to gain the skills I have.”
There’s got to be hallucinogenic gas coming from the vents. Yeah, that’s it. I’m high. Freakin’ high. “People don’t just ... disappear or move shit with their mind!” I feel I’m gonna lose it. Cursing is the first sign.
James laughs and pulls away from the wall. “Calm down, Marci. I didn’t disappear. I just moved very fast.”
“Wow, I think that’s even weirder.”
“It’s not really weird if you think about it. There’s a vast amount of untapped potential in our brains. The agents know how to get to it—something we humans seem to have forgotten over the course of our evolutionary path. Meditation will help you learn from the agent how to exploit all that undeveloped brain power. Once it realizes it can’t take you over, it will resign itself to making the best of its situation. Your intuition will grow, your instincts will sharpen, your body and mind will become one. You will be aware of every organ, every cell, every atom that makes you who you are. When that happens, the sky is the limit.”
“The sky’s the limit? You must mean the nut house?”
“Trust me, it’s nothing to freak out about,” James says, looking a lot like someone trying to convince me that eating insects is a sensible idea. “Once I understood the mechanics, I actually began to enjoy making the changes. Don’t get me wrong, it’s very hard work and takes a long period of time. It took me three years to modify my anatomy in order to develop my skills, but it was worth it, I think.” He twirls the marker at the speed of light.
Show-off.
“With the agent’s help,” he continues. “I’ve mapped every last cell in my body. More than that, I’ve learned to harness the necessary ingredients to make new tissue, bone, hair, teeth, whatever I need to alter my physiology. I wanted to be faster. So I modified my tendons, skeleton, muscles. Even my eyes are able to see in the dark. The process isn’t easy. It takes time and energy. It’s why Eklyptors take years to be able to reproduce. Growing those things is no easy matter.”
My head is spinning out of orbit. I rest a hand on the table to steady myself. So this is what James really meant when he said I’d learn to appreciate the meaning of the word symbiotic? I can have ... super powers?
As if being infected since conception isn’t enough, now I can also become a freak of nature if I want to. The thought of knowing the molecular composition of my every organ makes me nauseous. All I ever wanted was to be normal. Now I may need a cape and tights.
What a stupid dilemma! Doesn’t every human being dream of having super powers at times? Shouldn’t I be excited about this? I shake my head. No, I’m certainly not excited.
I’m scared.
I’ve only had one meditation session and something has already changed inside me that could land me a Mindfreak show on TV. What else could change if I keep on this path? My chest tightens. I take a step back.
“What’s the matter?” James asks.
“I don’t wanna change,” I say in a trembling voice. “I didn’t ask for this!”
James takes a step closer, hands up in a pacifying gesture. “Calm down, Marci. It’s nothing to be afraid of.”
“Is that right? How do you figure that?”
“You’re still in control, aren’t you?”
“Am I? Something flipped in here.” I point at my head, shaking all over. “I didn’t do that, so how am I still in control?”
“Because you’re here, talking to me,” he says, as if it’s the most obvious thing on Earth. “You’re not afraid of your high IQ, are you? Or your agility? So why be afraid of this?”
I take a few more backward steps, heading toward the door, toward an escape. “I don’t think I’m ready for this,” I say, shaking my head over and over again. The urge to crash through the door assaults me. I fight the restlessness in my legs, the need to scream, struggling to keep it together.
Then James shrugs and says, “Okay, that’s fine.” He picks up the marker and puts it back by the board. His mouth is turned down in an expression that suggests it doesn’t really matter what I do.
Wait! I thought I would become a liability if I don’t try to get my agent under control. Was that just a lie to intimidate me?
James walks past me, opens the door and, with a backward glance, says, “I won’t make you do it, Marci. But you’ll come around.” And with that he leaves me behind, while I welcome the serenity that washes over me. I don’t have to do it.
Good! He can believe whatever he wants. Halley’s comet will come around sooner than I ever will.