Day 26

Racks of computers were on three of its walls, all of them coming online now that the power had been restored. In the center was a raised table obviously meant to hold a person. Electrodes to monitor vital statistics hung off the side and a wicked looking helmet – like the Troopers' protective ones only larger and connected by a thick cable to the computers – sat at the head of the table. More disturbing, though, were the thick metal restraints. Whoever had once been here, they hadn't been there voluntarily.

The monitors in our room began turning themselves on. Most were blank, some were obviously designed to be linked to the vital-monitoring equipment in the next room as they registered only flat lines. One showed a menu very similar to the one my PDA had presented earlier. They must have taken recordings here as well – I made my way to the control board in an effort to access them.

Jamie got there at the same time I did an unceremoniously placed herself between me and the board. “No offense, Derek, but I'm a little worried you'd break something. I'll get this thing working.”

“None taken.” I said, conceding the point. I'd been in a bit of a rush to see what had gone on here. Jamie immersed herself in the task of figuring out what parts of the control board were reflected on which monitors, and Dana kept nervously glancing into the other room. She'd been speaking the truth, earlier, when she said she'd never been down here before. Clearly the Troopers' mistreatment of their prisoners or ex-volunteers had gone a lot farther than she'd witnessed, and Dana was not at all comfortable with having been a part of it, even indirectly.

“Got the last recording queued up.” Jamie said finally, and turned to the monitor that had previously been displaying a menu. Now it showed the other room, much as it was now except for being full of scientists and the man we'd identified as Jeremy Bowers being led to the restraining table in the center.

The same narrator who had worked upstairs apparently had a job down here as well, because the audio track shortly came on and he was speaking.

“Trial five of the amplifier. #31337 is the only subject thus far to survive it and has, we believe, even become accustomed to the unusual rigors of the device. Today we intend to go beyond mere testing, and find a practical purpose. Using the amplifier, the subject should be able to locate any area of Afflicted. We will attempt to thusly assess the threat the West Coast Army may pose, and whether they have any telepaths with them to use offensively against us, or have planted among us as spies.”

One of the scientists said something to Bowers as the latter laid on the table and was fastened in place. Jeremy nodded, and then the helmet was put on.

“Subject indicates his understanding of the task. Begin when ready.”

From the perspective of the recording, nothing seemed to happen. The narrator began reading numbers that meant nothing to me, but presumably reflected the power input or possibly output of the device. Bowers himself made no movement.

Jamie began to slowly skip through the recording – which lasted about an hour. At the forty-five minute mark, Bowers was released from his restraints and unattached from the eqipment. The remainder of the tape was him talking in a near monotone. The West Coast Army had telepaths. There wasn't a quarantine there, but plague was stopping regardless. A number of telepaths infused their spying apparatus, it seemed, and he'd found several working within Trooper ranks, though he didn't know if they'd been sent by West Coast or had simply been given their abilities by the plague and thus remained loyal.

As Jeremy was going through this, I was exiting the room and going into the other one. As I'd suspected, the glass was indeed one-way. I looked closer at the table, thinking. I was getting an idea; a terrible idea. It could kill me or it could prove to be the largest boon to our cause.

“Jamie, do you think you can bring this online?” I said, gesturing to the table.

Jamie's voice came back to me over a speaker apparently set up for the purpose of talking between the two rooms. “I ran across the routines that would start it up and shut it down. There's not much to it. Why, though? There's no reason to-”

The speaker cut off and the door opened again to reveal Jamie, a look of realization and anger on her face. “Are you stupid? You're not putting yourself in that thing.”

Dana was right behind her, bearing a similar look. “Derek, I don't know what you're thinking, but it can't be a good idea.”

I sighed, gathered my thoughts. This wouldn't be an easy case, I knew that even before I'd heard their objections. “Did you see what they wanted him to do? Investigate the West Coast Army. My history's not great, and neither is my geography, but they had to have been hundreds of miles away from the front lines, let alone Yuba where West had their spy apparatus set up. This thing could reach that far, and it didn't even look like it took effort. Not just that, but he could find telepaths.”

“We know where to find telepaths.” Dana pointed out. “Quarantine zones aren't hard to locate.”

I shook my head. “I'm not thinking of recruiting, I'm thinking of doing the same thing Bowers did decades ago – looking for Telepaths within the Troopers. I can find out if Shaw was telling the truth, if they're openly using their abilities, if their loyalties are to the Trooper cause or to the rebels. The kind of recon that Orin could only dream about doing, we can do right now!”

“We could do it later.” Dana said. “There's no reason we can't come back here with dozens of volunteers, I'm sure Haven would love to get their hands on this thing. You don't have to risk your life.”

“What, I should risk theirs? You heard the recording as well as I did, Dana. Bowers was the only one to survive the machine.”

Dana was getting angry again, I could feel it seeping from her. Much as John's refusal to change his mind had infuriated her, my own dedication to this insane idea was grating on her. “You didn't see him. I never knew what they did to that man down here, but I caught sight of him a few times after they carried him up the stairs. He looked like half of his lifetime had been burnt out of him, and not pleasantly either. That's not the kind of survival you want, if you even can survive it.”

“I'll survive it.” I said. “You said they never took my father down here. They didn't want to risk their Patient Zero, is my guess, but I think he'd have done better than Bowers ever had. Jeremy's power came from one of the earliest injections of the virus, but my father's was naturally occurring. And I'm his son. Dana, did you ever see me come down with the plague?”

She shook her head, her anger wrestling with my words, the seeming impossibility of it tempered by my argument, flimsy though it was.

“I'm natural, like him. And Jamie, I'll bet if you check those records again, you'll see that the people who didn't make it were all plague victims, even further removed from the source.”

“If we do this,” Jamie said, her voice stressing the fact that it was, indeed, a big 'if', “that'll have to have been the case. I'll check the records, like you said.” She vanished back into the control room.

“Derek, why are you doing this?” Dana said, sounding almost as though she were pleading at this point. “What are you trying to prove?”

I paused, then figured I might as well tell them everything I suspected. “Dana, what happened to Jeremy after the evacuation?”

She shrugged. “I don't know. Like I said, I don't remember it that well, and then I got shipped off to fight the Old Line. Where are you going with this?”

“Just follow my train of thought. In the journal you seemed pretty sure the subjects were going to be killed, yes?”

She grimaced, then nodded. It was still a raw memory, even after all this time. I didn't have time to spare her feelings, though.

“But obviously he wasn't. I think he used his telepathic abilities to wrangle out of it. I think the whole time he was in this device, he wasn't just doing whatever they told him, he was altering their thinking so they'd consider him valuable. His was the last recording made; they didn't try anyone else after they found out he survived. Wouldn't they want a backup? He changed their thinking, and if he's in power now...”

Dana had come to the same conclusion I had. “You think he's still doing it somehow.”

I nodded. “It might just be on the small scale, he could be still manipulating those contacts he changed twenty years ago. I don't think it's the case, though. I've got to find out, and this is our only choice.”

Dana hadn't stopped frowning the entire time. “That still doesn't answer the question of 'why you' and 'why now'.”

Jamie interrupted via the intercom. “You're right, Derek.” she sounded both astonished and weary. “The others were Afflicted, and once they found Bowers they never tried anyone else.”

“Is that enough answer for you?” I said.

“Frankly, no.” Dana answered. “But you seem convinced. I want you to do something for me, as your first act in that device. Get ahold of Orin, let him know what you're doing and why. That way if we lose you...” she paused at this, visibly willing herself to go on, “... if we lose you to this insane plan, something will have come of it.”

I nodded. “I'll need you to hook me up to the monitors.”

She didn't say anything as I laid down on the table, just hooked up the electrodes to me. The restraints were not fastened, but she did put the helmet on a bit more violently than strictly required.

Jamie came over the intercom again. “Ready to fire this up. Dana, I'll need you in here to watch this, you at least know what most of this stuff means. As soon as she's in here, I'll start it.”

Dana looked back at me. “Don't die.” It wasn't a question.

“I don't intend to.” I said to her as she walked away and into the other room. If she'd heard me, she made no sign.

I lie there, waiting for Jamie to turn on the device. The table was cold, the room itself was cold to meet the air conditioning needs of the many computers. It was amazing they were still working after all this time, but the door had obviously formed an airtight seal and without dust or other material to cause problems, the machinery hadn't degraded at all.

This was my last thought, before my entire world was pain. Brilliant white light seared through my optic nerve, deafening noise ruptured my ears, every single pain receptor in my entire body fired at once. I tried to scream, I tried to wrench my body off this table, I tried to retch the contents of my stomach onto the floor, anything to escape! I was paralyzed, my body wouldn't move, my eyes couldn't even blink, I was dying, my lungs filled with molten lead and I couldn't cry out, couldn't even move, couldn't stop any of it. What had I been thinking? Why had they listened to me? My body was broken and re-formed, melted and re-cast, and I felt my consciousness dissolve into death one slow fragment at a time.

Then, for what seemed like ages, there was nothing.

Floating. The first sensation to come back to me was floating. A gentle bobbing, the feel of a light breeze on my face. The agony was gone now, replaced with a numbness. My surroundings were blurry, and swam in and out of focus. A voice emanated from ahead of me, but I couldn't tell who was speaking. I was surrounded by shadowy figures.

“Derek, is that you? What on earth has happened?” The tallest figure had spoken in Orin's voice. My sight abandoned me, I opened my mouth to speak and broken words spilled forth, piling up around me, lifting me up, pushing me forcefully away as Orin's pleas for understanding dwindled.

I was nowhere again. I could be anywhere. Who was I, though? It could wait, it wasn't important. I'd been sent to do something. Pain took away my purpose, but the numbness promised to bring it back. I could wait, I had all the time I wanted here. Didn't I? People were waiting for me, people would be worried for me. I had to find them.

Carson. Quarantine Zone. The orphanage I'd stayed at during the war still stood, I could see it. I was surrounded by minds, both telepathic and ordinary. Affliction reigned here, and people suffered from the remainder of their disease, even this long afterward. Cruelty fed on cruelty, what little hope remained kindled by those who refused to give in. This is where my friends had been, long ago. They'd rescued me from here, and I'd rescued others. I could feel the entire city, know what they all were thinking, know how they felt. The space out of the quarantine zone was ordinary, ebb and flow of people going to work or patrolling streets or sleeping or fighting or loving. It enraged me; so much suffering, and they couldn't feel it! Their minds were closed to it, but I could change it. I realized I could, I could change everyone in the city at once, make them nice or mean or even snuff out their lives. Who was I that I could do such things?

Haven. I stood at the back of a crowd looking toward Orin, who was himself looking at an empty patch of ground. Their voices made no sense to me, but I could feel their minds, telepaths all of them, burning brightly ahead of me. What had happened here? I knew they asked, even if I could not hear it. Are we under attack? Have the Troopers discovered us?

Troopers! This was my purpose, if not my self. I was supposed to find them, know how many of my kind there were. I moved instantly through the nothingness which separated space from space and was in the Meadows, their city of operations.

The city was under shadow, I could feel it everywhere. I couldn't make out the minds of this place, because another mind was in their place. The shadow grew, blotted out the sky and sun and all light gave into it, and its terrible eyes came upon me and its voice bellowed my name.

Falling. I was falling it was falling the ground gave way and I fell down down below the city into the caverns into the hidden places of the rulers and still the shadow knew me, enveloped me and crushed me.

I blinked, sat up, inhaled deeply as though I'd never taken a breath in my life. The helmet, constrained by the cord in back, yanked itself off my head as I did so. I looked around myself. The experimentation room. I was alive!

I got off the table, shuddering from the experience, trying to prevent it all coming back to me at once. I took a step toward the door.

“You know, I honestly thought you were Keith for a second or two there. You shouldn't mess with my head like that.”

I froze. The voice had come from behind me. Slowly, I turned, and saw sitting on the table I'd been mere seconds ago, a man. Specifically, he was Jeremy Bowers. He looked little like the newspaper photos portrayed him. Here he was pale, thin to the point of gauntness. He looked back at me with unflinching eyes, and I knew upon looking at them that I wasn't, in fact, out of the machine. It was still running.

The room was different, now that I'd realized this. I wasn't in my experimentation room, this place just looked like it. The computers were more modern; though there were just as many as there had been before, the individual machines were smaller and making less noise. The table had an enclosure, a feeding tube – it was set up for much more long-term support than the room I'd known had been. The one-way glass that separated the control room I knew from me was two-way here, and a number of people worked behind it. They seemed oblivious to both me and Bowers.

“So who are you?” Jeremy apparently hadn't realized my confusion. “The so-called rebels finally manage to build an amplifier without killing everyone?”

“I'm Derek Perkins.” I spoke. My voice sounded perfectly normal to me.

Jeremy nodded. “That explains it, then. Your mind operates very similarly to your father's. But he's long gone now, sadly. I would have liked to have him here.”

“Where is 'here', exactly?” I said. I wasn't sure why Bowers was being so forthcoming, but I wasn't going to waste it. I knew who I was, now that the pain had receded completely. I remembered why I'd done this foolhardy thing. And now I was somehow in contact with the very person who could answer all my questions.

Jeremy smiled as though proud. “This is my amplifier. Sure, when they built the other one after the old place burnt down, they thought it was their idea, but it was mine. This one here's the fourth or fifth, I think, honestly I lose track these days. Not important, though. Just that it's better than yours.”

This last part was definitely said in a more sinister tone than his previous words. “Why does that matter?”

“Because now it's my turn to ask you a few questions, Derek. Like, where is your rebel base?”

A wind blew through the enclosed room, which should have been impossible but of course this was some kind of mental projection or half-dream or something so possibility didn't matter one bit. I didn't answer.

Bowers frowned. “This device is better than yours, and I can guarantee you I've had a lot more experience than you in operating amplifiers. More than you could ever endure. So believe me when I tell you that I could just reach into that brain of yours and pull the information out forcibly. This would leave you a drooling vegetable and no doubt hurt more than you could fully perceive. Out of respect for your father, I do not do this. However, I am not infinitely patient. I'm giving you the opportunity to volunteer this information. I want to know how the rebellion built an amplifier, and where it is.”

I thought frantically. “This isn't the rebellion's amplifier. It's in the basement of an old facility, the one you and Keith were kept at before the Troopers burnt it down.”

Jeremy smiled, satisfied, and I found myself wondering whether I'd meant to tell him this or whether he'd somehow compelled the truth from me. Regardless, it kept the rebellion out of the conversation.

“It's still there.” he said, wonderingly. “How I'd like to go back to that place, maybe put some of the old men who hurt me so much under the needle, and see how they liked it. Ah, but they're dead now. I exacted my revenge against them, what, ten years ago? I assure you, it was very painful. But you won't have to endure that, as you're being quite cooperative.”

He paused. “Why did you seek me out, then?”

I searched my mind frantically, answering “Shaw” without even realizing I was doing so. It was partially the truth – I didn't seem capable of lying here. I'd have to be very careful with what I said.

Jeremy seemed positively delighted. I doubted he emoted this much in real life, but the sort of amplified mind-to-mind contact we were having now precluded hiding emotions. “You met one of my recruiters! You must have been the lovely group that knocked him out and locked him up. He was very upset with you, wanted an air patrol sweeping the skies looking for you. I denied him, of course, I knew you'd be in touch on your own, and I'm right! The idea that we're in charge now is very powerful, of course.”

“So you are in charge now?” I asked.

He smiled, gestured to through the two-way glass. “Unlike before, where people used me for their ends, I now use them. I've used the power of the amplifier to turn the tables. They obey me without even knowing it. They thought it was their idea to make me a Trooper, thought having a pet telepath on their side was simply brilliance on their part. But I suggested all these things, and now the majority of the Trooper system answers directly to me. All of the Meadows is under my command. You remember when you sent your mind here?”

Suddenly we were no longer in the experimentation room, instead standing in the middle of the street. Troopers marched past in odd rhythm. Vehicles drove in eerie synchronicity. Everything operated as though ordered by one mind.

“One mind, exactly!” Bowers seemed quite pleased that I'd discovered what he was trying to do. “It's a bit of an exaggeration, true, they mostly think it's their own idea and that they're just exceptionally organized. But I've mostly accomplished what I want here. Some more tweaks to the system, and I should be able to start bringing neighboring cities in line. Henderson, for instance.”

“Henderson.” I echoed. “It's got a quarantine zone. Can you take over telepaths?”

He shook his head. “Not really, though if they're willing they can join their power to mine, act as repeaters. I've already got a few doing exactly that. They retain a modicum of autonomy. There are perks to being one of us, after all.”

I couldn't tell if by 'one of us' he meant a trooper or literally an extension of him.

“You're welcome to come down here and join us, of course. I'm ushering in an age free of the sorts of horrors that were visited on me and your father. It'll be very nice once I've settled everything down.”

I glanced at the people walking down the street. Everyone moved with purpose; there was nobody just looking at the scenery or stopping to sit on a park bench or having a chat. “They're like zombies!” I said. “What kind of world is that?”

“Of course they're like zombies!” Bowers said, as though it were the most elementary thing in the world. “If they had their senses they'd be dissecting us or running experiments or just plain killing everyone, like they always do. Sheesh.”

I didn't have an answer to that, besides thinking that Jeremy had been quite a bit more affected by the experiments he detested than he cared to admit. He didn't seem to expect one, though. I turned to say something and again we were back in his experimentation room.

“Before you come visit, though, one more thing.” he said, sitting back down on the table and looking tired, as though the imaginary travel had been difficult. “I know Shaw didn't tell you about that old experiment station. And if you'd driven from his prison directly there, I'd have been talking to you days ago. No, you stopped somewhere.” he paused. “Ah, I thought the rebels were involved. Tell me where they are, and then you can join me.”

“No.” I replied. I didn't know how he'd picked the fact of the rebels from my mind, but I began my mind-blanking exercises to keep him from picking out any more.

I saw a result immediately. My world became filled with static, the more I concentrated on chaos and noise to keep Bowers' mind separate from mine. He sat up on his rapidly dissolving table. “Stop that!” he demanded. “I could kill you, child, and I should not have hesitated this long. Tell me where the rebels are, or I shall get the information by force!”

The amplifier I was hooked up to apparently knew mind-blanking when I tried it, because the harder I concentrated the more Bowers' frenzied yells faded. Eventually I was surrounded by a field of static, and the mind-dictator of the Troopers was nowhere to be found.

The static dissolved suddenly, and I was back in the experiment room I'd begun the journey in. This time I was certain it was my room; the clunky old computers, the table with restraints, all these confirmed I was back where I belonged.

“It has been a while.” Jeremy said, looking toward the one-way glass.

I bolted off the table at the sight of him, standing nonchalantly. He didn't even react to me.

“I see you're not alone.” he observed, still looking directly away from me. “I guess I won't have to kill you for information after all.”

<< COME OUT <<

The amplified command hadn't been directed at me, but I could still feel the compulsion it caused, and I wasn't even susceptible. Before I could shout a warning or issue a counter order, the door had swung open and Dana was running toward the table. If she saw Jeremy, she made no sign.

He saw her, though. As she ran by, he reached out his hand. It penetrated her skull with a dull, thick sound and she froze in place. Bowers smiled sickeningly, and vanished.

I rocketed up, helmet flying off my head. I fell off the table, vomiting. Why couldn't I get up?

“Derek? Oh god, not both of you!” Jamie's voice filtered into my consciousness somehow. I picked myself slowly off the floor, reasonably certain that this time I wasn't hooked into the machine anymore. For one, I felt like shit.

Jamie was kneeling on the floor next to a fallen Dana. I made my way over to the two of them, the nightmarish vision I'd seen before coming out of the machine-induced sleep still haunting me. If I turned her head, would I see a gaping wound?

“She heard you yell, ran in here to unhook you, then just collapsed.” Jamie said by way of explanation. She was taking a pulse, which was about the extent of either of our medical training. I looked at the side of Dana's head, but no wound presented itself. I breathed a sigh of relief.

At this, Dana's eyes flickered open. She gazed up at me, then whispered two words:

“He knows.”

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