Beneath the Surface...

As I caught my breath from the impact of her question, the floor beneath us lurched violently and sweaty bodies began to tumble one upon another. I had been wondering when the plates would kick in. I’d tested them all individually when I had come to service this and the other systems, but I could never in my wildest hallucinations have imagined the effect of all 36 plates shifting at once, each heavily laden with tipsy, exuberant human cargo…all in time with the music. Despite my multiple distractions, I was mildly amused and impressed that their start-up was graduated, presumably to give the crowd a moment to get their “sea legs.” The first several shifts were on the measure. The motion of the plates went to half time, then full speed as Cleo, I and all the others getting slammed brutally against the tables and bench seats at the perimeter struggled to free ourselves and began the exodus for what little space remained in the open dance and bar areas.

Had the topic of conversation been any other, I might well have abandoned focus with all that was happening around me. As it was, I found myself leaning rather awkwardly in to shout my portion of our exchange into Cleo’s ear as she placed one hand gently on my shoulder and her other at my waist and proceeded to take the lead in something that might have resembled dancing or, perhaps, might have looked more like hand-to-hand combat. She deftly steered both of us through the crowd as I reeled from…everything.

‘The investigators never found anything, but how could they with so much we couldn’t tell them? I’ve always been pretty certain someone wanted her to stop what she was doing, so they stopped her. And Joshua.’

‘I think it’s worse than that, Jack. I don’t think they wanted her to stop. I think they wanted her to direct her research toward ends other than pure knowledge, communication and helping, something much darker. Of course, she wouldn’t, and that’s what cost her.’

I’m embarrassed to say this had never occurred to me. Some things are too terrible to imagine, more terrible, even, than losing a wife and a son. For Kathryn’s sake, better dead than enslaved…and far better than herself becoming the enslaver. My poor, moral, idealistic love. I took a deep breath, numb for the moment to the strangers’ limbs rhythmically jabbing and bruising me. ‘Do you know who killed her?’

‘I wish I did, Jack, but all I have to go on are some flashes I saw at her funeral. That was back when I couldn’t sort things out very well, plus I was so devastated by her death that nothing was making much sense anyway. I’m sorry. I was pretty distraught, but I did try to get all I could. I think there were several different people at the funeral who knew something, based on how much I was picking up and how disjointed the pieces were. There were some angry thoughts about how far losing her had set some project back, how if they had captured her this person was certain they could have made her do their bidding by threatening the children. There were some other thoughts of fear, horror and regret, someone questioning his or her own safety in light of a new understanding of just how far some of their associates would go to achieve their ends and eliminate interference. There was even someone running down a list of Kathryn’s collaborators and considering the viability and vulnerabilities of each in turn. It was terrible. There were no faces, no names, and I couldn’t hold on to anything long enough to bring it into focus. I am so very, very sorry.’

We had thought we’d kept our secrets well enough, chosen our confidants discretely. Somewhere along the lines, we’d failed. I had known that much that unspeakably horrible evening. I had vowed never to let my daughter learn anything that might get her hurt, and foolishly thought that would be the end of our torments. Now to be confronted with the possibility my wife’s private pursuits had been the center of so much further-reaching a storm … I wondered what might be the true scale of the aftermath. The calls I had made to see what Kathryn’s past associates could help me bring to the surface had yielded very little. I had been both frustrated and somewhat comforted by that. I had gotten the impression her work had been fearfully abandoned by some and all but forgotten by the rest…the end result the same in either circumstance: it was all a distant memory, not a true, present-day fact or danger. Now I wondered where else her intellectual seed had found fertile soil… and what beast might have been awakened by my inquiries.

Cleo answered my thought indirectly, and I wondered if she was reading me as we spoke. ‘I found out you might be ready to move forward from something I ran across scanning one of my regulars. She’s totally abandoned the work and has managed to keep herself well away from the other stuff that’s going on. She’s OK. She’s not a danger. I don’t know who else you may have called, and some of them are bound to have been a threat, but you’re in no jeopoardy yet, and may not be if we handle this right.’

The plates continued to shift. The majority of the patrons were, by this time, availing themselves of the opportunity for some enhanced horizontal action. I tried not to picture what must have been happening through the bars at the perimeter. I couldn’t believe we were trying to have this conversation amidst such boisterous, high-decibel, mass debauchery. I wondered again if she were in my head and if she knew how badly I wanted to take our discussion elsewhere.

‘…And yes, I am, kind of, in and out. I’m sorry. It’s a habit, plus I’m paranoid, so I’m always reading anyone I can. In addition, I’m very interested in you. But don’t worry. I’m nowhere near your deepest, darkest. Barely stand a chance at your shallowest, brightest in this crowd! That’s why I picked this place. And we need to stay here until I explain at least some basic things to you. This is the best protection either of us could hope for. With all the consciousnesses in this mob – some of them, further, a bit blurry from the many substances available on premises – plus all the electricity running the lights, music and other machinery, there’s too much interference for even a skilled reader to really nail anything down.’

‘…which is Lesson One. It takes a great deal of energy and focus to create an active barrier in your mind. Until you can master that skill, crowds, machines and distance from those who might recognize your thoughts are your best natural defenses. And solitude. That’s the good news, and the main thing protecting you right now. You’re typically not a terribly social guy, from what I’ve seen or heard. You don’t vary your professional associations much, and prefer to dispense with them entirely, if at all possible. That’s good. For someone to read you, they have to find an initial way in. That connection must first be established in person, eye to eye. You can probably expect some visitors in the coming weeks and months.’