The Ethereal Vision

  ***

  Sometime later, voices entered her dreams. She was back home in her kitchen with her mother. Jane sat at the counter on a stool across from Nora and stared at her blankly. Her mother seemed to want to speak across the brief space separating them, but somehow they were too far apart to reach each other.

  Then other voices penetrated this vision. Initially they came from down the hallway in her house; as she looked in that direction, the hallway door swung open and a bright white light erupted from beyond it.

  Then Jane came to the realisation that it wasn’t a dream and these voices were real. She roused herself to consciousness, gasping for air, and sat up in her bed. She looked around at what was then still a new, alien environment. The corners of the dark room were stark, jagged and still unknown to her. It was so unlike the kitchen of her home, she needed a moment to adjust. She focussed intently in the night, sensing danger.

  She forced her mind to go silent, focussing on the telepathic function as best she could. She felt it come into alignment in her mind; just when it did, she felt something. It was as though she had been hit in the face, but she had not. She gasped, suddenly frightened, and touched her hand to her cheek, continuing to focus and listen. The voices, muffled, penetrated her consciousness, and she suddenly wished she could turn off the weak, telepathic signal.

  Morris…are you there? she asked in desperation. There was no response. MORRIS, she screamed in her mind.

  What? came the groggy reply.

  Thank God, she thought. Are you getting this? Can you hear this?

  Wha-

  His thoughts dropped off as another series of screams filled her mind. Adrenaline dropped into her bloodstream. Reluctantly, she reached out further with her thoughts to find out who was being troubled. Her mind draped over the skin and hair on his arms as she learned who it was: Michael.

  It’s Michael, she said, cringing. What are they doing to him?

  I don’t know, but it doesn’t sound good. Let’s listen, see if we can hear.

  Then, suddenly, an explosion of pain and thought: I told you I can’t do it! It was just that one time.

  For a split second, the taste of blood filled Jane’s mouth.

  Crap, she heard Morris say. Do you think they’re talking about…?

  What happened in the cafeteria? Yes, it sounds like it.

  She returned to listening, her breath caught in her throat, knowing he was in pain. She focussed again, reluctantly. She could feel Michael; she could feel his fear. She latched onto that and used it as her centre of gravity. Breathing heavily, she spread her focus into the surrounding area and found him—Lucas, standing over Michael.

  It’s Lucas. He’s hurting him, Morris. Now she could feel Morris’ own pain and anger. This mixed with the physical pain she was sensing from Michael and commingled with her own in a multi-coloured wash of emotion. What can we…

  There’s nothing we can do, Jane. Just sit tight. He might hit him, but he’s not going to do anything too serious.

  A primal surge of anger rose in her as she felt her chest tighten. She gritted her teeth. She focussed harder, then, using Michael as a tether, scanned the room he was in. There was another person there. It was a man. He had his hands in his pockets. As she scanned upward, she could make out his face, but just barely. She had the impression that he was orchestrating this encounter for some reason. They continued to hear the conversation clearly:

  Tell me how you do it.

  I don’t know—I only did it that one time, I swear.

  You shouldn’t be able to access your psionic abilities while the suppression field is active.

  Jane’s respiration increased as panic spread through her body.

  Is it the Irish girl, Jane? Is it something she’s doing?

  She focussed more intently at the mention of her name, the sound of it echoing in her mind, drawing her in further like a pool of gravity. People liked to hear their names spoken, but there was nothing in this utterance but darkness.

  No, it’s nobody. It’s just me. I swear…I don’t know how I was able to do it that one time. I focussed really hard. I just thought of it that second and I said to them…do you think we could bend light…you know, with psychokinetic force? And I saw…I saw that I could do it.

  Mike paused, and Jane could sense the hesitation in the room.

  That’s it, honestly, she heard him say. And I don’t know why it worked.

  She listened to his convincing explanation and waited with shallow breath to hear Lucas’ response. Silence ensued and she could sense Lucas—almost see him, in fact—staring down at Michael, who was sitting in a chair. Jane thought—or felt—that his hands were tied behind his back. She could feel the constriction spread over her wrists as she focussed on this, and she turned away desperately, spreading her focus out again into the room.

  Morris? she asked.

  Yeah?

  There’s somebody else in the room.

  I know. I can see his face…just barely. I don’t recognise him, Jane. I can almost get his name, though…begins with a “D.”

  Jane listened again, then heard words that eased her concern greatly.

  Untie him. If you speak a word about this, there’ll be further problems for you, Michael. Do you understand? Do you want to be in trouble? I’ve noticed you and Colin are close, Michael. He could find himself in trouble as well.

  Jane heard this, as though Lucas were speaking directly to her. She heard Michael gasp, and her own breath caught in her throat at the threat. She shook her head in disbelief. Her brow furrowed as she listened intently, then caught a brief, unexpected glimpse into Lucas’ thoughts. It was just a momentary flash that she would have missed had she not been focussing directly on the situation: two frames out of twenty four in a single second of film. It was an image of the ocean—flying above the water—as one might do if one were searching for something.

  She opened her eyes wide as she realised what Morris had been referring to. There was something in the water—something Lucas was looking for.

  No, Michael responded to Lucas in an exhausted fashion. Jane could feel him wanting to sob, but controlling the impulse. There were no tears, though she could feel the pain he was in.

  They’re letting him go, Jane, Morris said.

  Yes, I know. Thank God. She wiped tears from her eyes. The illusion she had lived in for the previous day shattered as she realised the reality of her situation: she was a prisoner, and Lucas was a dangerous man. She was completely locked out of her ethereal ability, apart from the weak telepathic communication she seemed to have with Morris. She had no special means with which to defend herself. As if sensing her concern, she heard Morris speaking in her mind again, this time with more authority.

  We’ll have to find a way out of here. We have to pool our abilities, limited though they are, and do something. We have to reach someone for help or, failing that…

  Deactivate the field, Morris. That’s what we have to do. We have to deactivate the suppression field. She felt every muscle in her body ripple with anger. And then I’ll do whatever it takes to put that bastard through a wall.

  Morris didn’t say anything else, though she could sense his agreement. A silence fell between them, but the telepathic connection stayed open.

  Morris? she asked after a moment. The connection to the other room and Michael’s predicament was growing weaker, fading slowly from their awareness. This strange, multi-faceted telepathic communication was like nothing Jane had ever experienced. It was as though their minds had been momentarily melded into one: a fluid trinity of thought and intent.

  Yes? he responded.

  What happened tonight that enabled us to see into that room?

  The answer came quickly. I think it was the emotional intensity. I think he was reaching out for us, unconsciously, and then we got drawn into it further because of his urgency. I think the faculty becomes more active during extreme fight-or-flight-type situations, which makes perfect sense f
rom a survival perspective.

  She could hear—almost feel—the pain in his chest at what they had just witnessed, and this made her eyes grow wet once again. What he had said, though, resonated with her. She knew all too well that he was correct. The memory of the faded white lines on the road in front of her family as they had slipped out of the path of the car’s headlights so many years ago came to her briefly; then it was gone once again as she forced it away. The image of the enormous dam that she felt was somewhere in her mind flashed before her and she gasped.

  She glanced at the crystalline butterfly on her desk and was glad—though also surprised—that they had let her keep it. It still glinted, even in the darkness. She stood up and dashed across her room to retrieve it. Then she lay back on her bed and clutched it in one hand, tracing the fingers of her other hand over its surface. It made her think of Max: the most comforting image that could have possibly entered her mind in that moment.

  It was easier not to think about the accident after all this time. She preferred not to as well. She had the irrational fear that if she thought about it, she might access that same level of God-like power again—the power to levitate an entire car. The fear said to her: What would happen then, Jane? The world would fall out from beneath you as you spiralled out of control.

  She clutched the butterfly more tightly and turned off the memory, as she had become so adept at doing her entire life since the accident. She tuned back into the present moment.

  We better get some sleep, Jane, she heard Morris say. The sound of his voice was becoming more muted.

  Yes, she replied, okay, although she was reluctant to let go.

  She could sense, delicately, like a filament, Morris’ breathing. She was not completely aware, on a conscious level at least, that she was doing this—that there was a growing closeness between them—as she felt the muscles beneath his skin and the pulse in his veins. She fell asleep like that, with the gentle hum of his mind radiating next to hers.

  In her dreams, she saw her mother again. Nora was standing in her room, silhouetted against the light from the doorway to her ensuite bathroom. Jane could smell the aromas: talc, perfume and fresh laundry. Her mother was wearing her jacket, and cases were on her bed with clothes strewn over them.

  “Where are you going, Mom?” Jane asked, concerned.

  Jane’s stomach lurched as she woke up gasping, wondering about the dream and feeling concern for her mother. She took a few deep breaths and wiped the sweat off her brow. Her hand automatically went to her stomach in a comforting gesture. She began to feel the quickening breath, the familiar feelings of panic, when Max entered her mind—a clear image of him standing on the beach with the morning sun glaring behind him.

  He’ll keep her safe somehow, she thought, and her body relaxed as she knew this to be true. She was glad for that at least. Her thoughts then turned to Michael and his wellbeing. She got up and showered in the stark bathroom facilities at the front of the small room. She dried off and changed, taking one of the many packets of identical white attire from the shelf and opening it.

  The door opened on an automatic locking mechanism at exactly eight a.m. She put on her shoes and looked to her left as several of the others exited their rooms. She smiled at them as they walked past and remembered some of their names—Ciara and Colin. Knowing now that Colin and Michael may be involved, she had particular sympathy for him as he passed, but she concealed it, not knowing if he was aware yet of what had happened.

  Jane had a particularly good impression of Ciara, who said hello to her and smiled as she passed in the hallway. Jane had been introduced to her, but hadn’t yet talked to her properly. Sophia passed by her room last and kept her eyes to the ground as she went by.

  When Morris still hadn’t shown himself, Jane went to his room to check on him. He was coming out just as she approached the door. They looked at each other awkwardly for a moment, then he slowly placed his hands on her shoulders and looked into her eyes. They embraced, and she was glad to feel the warmth of his body next to hers. She reached up and placed her hands slowly over the back of his shoulders, gripping them tightly, no longer afraid. After a moment, they turned and walked in silence down the corridor and through the door to the stairway that led to the cafeteria on the upper level.

  She and Morris were served food. They sat at the same table they had used on the previous day and began to eat. They looked up from their food now and then, their sad, somewhat frightened expressions communicating everything they needed to share.

  “Is he okay, Morris?” she finally asked, exhaling.

  “I think he is…” Morris trailed off and looked to his right, over her shoulder.

  Jane turned and followed his gaze. Michael had entered the room. His face was bruised and he had received medical attention. There was a white stitch across his right eyelid. His other eye was bruised and his cheek was cut. Jane gasped when she saw him and resisted the urge to stand up and run to him.

  She knew now that they were being watched, although she had checked the ceiling for cameras when she had entered. The technological capabilities of the world they now lived in were extensive and ever-growing, and it was clear now that the facility's staff was using these devices to their full extent. Wherever the surveillance equipment was hidden, it was completely invisible.

  She watched Mike get some food from the counter and limp over to their table. Rodriguez stood in the corner with his hands on his hips, watching his every move. Colin stared at him open-mouthed from the back of the room, speechless. Mike looked back at him and nodded. Jane could read the meaning: I’m okay.

  She noticed that his leg didn’t seem that bad, and she was thankful for that at least. As Michael approached with a tray in his single free hand, she stood and helped him, taking the food and placing it on the metallic table next to hers. She put her arms around him, and a tear fell down her cheek.

  “I’m so sorry, Michael.”

  “It’s fine. He got me, but he won’t get me again.” Michael looked at both of them. “I could feel you listening…both of you.”

  “Of course,” Morris said as he stood next to Michael. His voice was cool, but underneath it, Jane could detect a palpable sadness and deep concern. Morris hugged him tightly then, and they sat down opposite each other. Jane sat next to Michael on his outside at the edge of the metallic bench.

  “No, it’s fine. I’m so glad you guys were there—in spirit anyway. I could hear you speaking to each other. It was…amazing. It was like you were there with me, standing behind me. It gave me the strength to look right into his eyes and lie to him.” Michael looked down at his food for a moment as he went quiet.

  “Well, I’m glad we could help,” Morris said.

  Michael turned back to Jane. “Jane, none of this happened before you came. We weren’t able to speak to each other through the field like that. The connections were never this strong.” His voice cracked with a strained, hoarse tone.

  “Maybe you just never tried,” she responded.

  “No, I did. I definitely tried,” Morris said.

  “Same here; I couldn’t get a signal like this before. It was like dead electrical equipment. Whatever you’ve brought to the table, it’s given us something we didn’t have before,” Michael added. He looked around briefly before continuing. “I really think we have a good chance of getting out of here now,” he whispered, hope filling his voice.

  Jane looked to Morris for a sign that he agreed; he nodded discreetly. She had taken time to think about this, and she thought she knew what they were talking about. There was a switch in her mind that had been undiscovered until she met them. She hovered over it in her mind’s eye now. It was as though she were standing above an electrical box with a flashlight, afraid to trip the switch with the unfounded fear that the electricity would flow through her, firing her across the darkened space only to slam into a wall.

  “I think it’s a small difference,” Mike continued, “but we can communicate with e
ach other now. We can orchestrate in a way we weren’t able to before. Lucas is smart, but he sort of has a stupid side to him as well. We can outthink him.”

  Jane and Morris exchanged glances. Morris nodded at her in agreement, and she found herself doing the same.

  “We’ll need a plan,” Morris said.

  The three of them fell into silence. Jane considered the implications of what they were talking about and found herself truly excited at the prospect of leaving. They picked at their food.

  “We shouldn’t talk about it here,” she said, and the three of them exchanged glances.

  Can you hear me?

  Jane heard Morris’ voice in her mind—not too clearly, but audibly.

  Yes, she replied. But it’s not very clear. For some reason, it’s not as audible here. The field must be stronger over on this side of the facility. It’s weaker where the sleeping quarters are.

  She glanced at Rodriguez, but he was not looking at them. He was scanning the cafeteria with little interest. Colin was still looking at their table from the front section of the cafeteria, an expression of terrible concern on his face.

  Well, we can communicate like this. And who knows, if…when…we make it outside…

  “What?” Jane asked out loud, then smiled. “Sorry, lack of practice.”

  Morris grinned back at her. Well, he continued, if you’re enhancing our abilities somehow, there’s no telling what we can do once we’re out. We’ll be able to protect ourselves. I mean, if they were to come looking for us, together, maybe we’d have the upper hand.

  She looked at him doubtfully. Do you really think it’s that big of an effect?

  Yes, I think so, he replied.

  Jane secretly revelled in this new advantage and the fact that she had provided it, even though it made her somewhat nervous. They continued eating, but the peace that had come over them was broken by Lucas, who appeared in the main entrance on the other side of the room.

  “Jane Connor,” he yelled, louder than necessary.

  She jerked her head around, shocked, then her eyes quickly narrowed into slits. She looked in his eyes and didn’t falter.

  “What?” Her gruff reply echoed loudly across the room, and Lucas recoiled just a millimetre at her stark reply. It was almost unnoticeable, but the gauntlet was set and fused between them in that moment.

  “Come with me.”

  Jane turned around and looked at her friends. She stood up slowly and felt Morris’ hand trail the top of hers as she left. She walked away surrounded by a beautiful warmth he had left with her. She was glad for this. As she walked, she heard Michael’s voice in her head. Its volume diminished as the distance between them grew, but the urgency of the moment let her hear him clearly once again.

  He’s taking you to the testing room. Jane, he already suspects something’s different about you. Don’t let him find out about any of this…

  I know, it’s okay. She looked over her shoulder at Morris and Michael as she walked out of the room. Their faces bore expressions of terrible concern, but it felt good to be cared for. I can take care of myself, she said, then followed Lucas out the door.

  She continued following him out of the cafeteria, down the stairs and into the brightly lit white corridor. They took a left and walked towards the main corridor, where the arboretum was. Then they turned right and walked past the guard station, which was on their left behind a thick metal railing.

  Jane did not walk near him, but trailed behind by about five feet. She followed Lucas down the other end of the corridor and through a door. She took note of the locking mechanism as he swiped his wrist across it.

  They walked through the door, and Jane saw another, darker corridor made of concrete. Down its length were several doors; they entered through the second one. Inside was a rectangular room that measured about twenty square feet. The walls were bare white, and the only two objects of any significance were a large table, which occupied the centre, and a reflective panel of glass that stretched along the wall to her right. The glass was about one metre in height.

  In the centre of the table sat a bowl filled with marbles, a set of Jenga blocks, cards and a baseball. Jane noticed that the table itself appeared to have digital controls embedded into its surface. It was obviously an expensive piece of equipment.

  “Sit down please, Jane,” Lucas said from behind her. She turned and looked at him, defiant and unafraid. She walked to the other side of the table and took a seat. She looked to her left and attempted to project her thoughts outward to see through the reflective glass that stretched the length of the wall, but found that she couldn’t.

  They haven’t turned the field down yet. Wait, she thought as Lucas took out a file and began leafing through it, taking a seat across the table from her. Between them was the set of unusual objects. She stared at him as he produced a file of papers attached with a paper clip. He looked up and caught her looking at him.

  “I like hard copies,” he said, smiling. Apparently he thought he could easily win her allegiance.

  She smiled back at him sardonically. “How’s your shoulder, Lucas?”

  His smile faded and he went back to looking at the file, retracting the invisible hand he had stretched to her. The message in her question was clear: if it wasn’t for that dampening field, you’d be in trouble. She returned her attention to the window on her left. She saw him look up at her dismissively, then return to the document. After a moment, he set the document aside and began to manipulate the controls on the digital surface of the table.

  Below her, the surface came to life. She was faced with a series of input controls and various grids marked by green lines. She had never seen this specific technology. Lucas flicked his hand forward across the surface of the table, and she watched as an image flew across the surface towards her.

  “Tell me about this please, Jane,” he said. The image settled into a grid on her left. She looked at him for a moment, then looked down at the image. It was a collage of pictures of their old car, showing shots of the damage that had been done after her rescue ten years ago.

  A flash: the teddy bear.

  No! she thought and winced visibly. She composed herself and looked back up at him. “It looks like an old car to me.”

  He took an exasperated breath, then smiled again. “I think you know well that this is your old family car. As I understand it, although your mother would protest this version of events, your father drove your car right off a cliff, and you used your supernormal abilities to stop the car from falling into the valley below. Would that be correct?”

  She looked to her left at the window, ignoring him and casting her thoughts once again to the glass and what was on the other side. Still, she could see nothing. She looked back at him and pursed her lips in an apathetic fashion.

  “This…Ethereal Vision…is a problem for us.”

  “Why?”

  “Because it presents an uncontrollable element in society. A dangerous element. I know that you have immense psychokinetic ability, Jane. I’m sure you’ve noticed that there is a certain aspect of this facility that prevents you from accessing that. It blocks the brainwave pattern that allows that energy to flow. It’s something we would like to understand. So we’re going to allow you access to some of that ability in this room only. This area has been specifically designed to allow a small amount of access. If you’re thinking of using it to escape, don’t bother. The people behind that window to your left can turn the field back on in a microsecond.”

  She wondered what it was about this room in particular that allowed them to drop the field. She looked around, searching as discreetly as possible so as not to attract his attention. If she could find that out, it might help them figure out how to disable it entirely.

  While she was thinking of this, she felt it suddenly—the field dropped, just a little. A tiny spark of excitement ran through her automatically. She looked down at the basket of marbles instinctively and tested it. They jiggled slightly as sh
e tugged at them. Lucas noticed this and smiled.

  “I see you’ve noticed the field has diminished somewhat, Jane. Go ahead if you’d like, we’d like to see how you use this ability.”

  “Why?”

  “To stop it, to learn how to control it and to stop people like you by better means in the future if it proves necessary.”

  What she had discussed with Morris previously came back to her now, along with the strange feeling she had that there was something missing from the picture. This ineffable thing was still just out of her reach, but she could feel it becoming clearer now.

  “What’s your last name, Lucas? I don’t want to be on a first-name basis with you,” she said, her tone blank and expressionless. She saw his face drop and he sighed.

  “Johnson.”

  “Okay, Mr. Johnson, that doesn’t make any sense. The psychokinetic faculty has been documented and studied in depth by the world’s leading scientists. What could you possibly hope to gain by this?” She saw him hesitate for a second before he responded.

  “We want to test your level of ability, and these people in the room next to us can do that quite easily if you’d be so kind as to cooperate and…”

  “You’re lying.” The word echoed around the room. It was as though she had brought down a sledgehammer on the table in front of them and somewhere, on an unconscious level, the balance had shifted.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I think you know what I mean.” Her eyes narrowed to slits. “You’re looking for something, aren’t you?”

  He fell back against his chair as his mouth dropped open briefly in surprise. He closed it quickly, and a flash of anger came across his face. He pursed his lips and sat up to the computer terminal again. He began manipulating the controls. This time, he swiped a digital A4-size document over to her. It flew in an oblong fashion across the length of the table and stopped at her section of the terminal, sectioning into the space in front of her again.

  When she saw the picture, her mouth dropped open and she froze. It was her father in a sunlit country somewhere, having just opened the door of his car and stepped out. He had one leg on the lower doorframe, and his arm was resting on the roof. Jane was smiling from the passenger seat, and she was younger—much younger than she had been during the accident, maybe five years old. His hair was jet black. There had been a few noticeable streaks of grey in it when he…

  No. Please not now. She heard the sound of the motorcycle engine blaring somewhere in the distance of her memories. In the background was a late summer sky, grey with flecks of pristine gold arcs that shone through the clouds: in her memory, a doorway to heaven.

  “Your father left when you were eight years old, is that correct?”

  She gasped and a minute trembling ran down her torso and into her hands. “Yes, that’s right,” she found herself replying unwillingly as she looked up at him again. There was a long pause as Jane stared down at the digitally displayed documents in front of her.

  Lucas shifted in his seat. “What happened?” The marbles moved in the bowl, just slightly. Lucas did not notice.

  “That’s not your business,” she replied flatly.

  He looked through the documents in front of him again. “I know that the incident with the car crash involved an extreme manifestation of ethereal ability—you don’t have to verify that for me, Jane.” He looked up at her and lifted a digital pen from the desk, tapping it against his chin. “The question is…” He looked at the reflective glass on his right, nodding almost imperceptibly towards it. “The question is…what happened…exactly?” He paused again. “And why did your father leave?”

  She took a deep breath and looked up at him, fighting a swirling mass of dark memories that she had never faced. She gritted her teeth and could feel the power trembling beneath, wanting a way out. Instead, she composed herself and turned up to face him. Her expression became steel-like once again.

  “I know what you’re trying to do,” she responded finally.

  Lucas’ smug facial expression disappeared. The spell was broken. The marbles and the other items in the room remained motionless. He glared at her and then exhaled gruffly. He deactivated the digital terminal on the desk, and the display in front of her went blank. He was turning to the reflective glass once again when she seized her opportunity.

  She stood up, knocking the chair to the floor, and focussed on the marbles. She managed, with great effort, to grasp three of them. They rose into the air haphazardly, swirling around each other as they floated out of the bowl. Lucas watched in awe.

  They hovered for a moment as Jane focussed on them. Then, her head jerked to the left as she sent them rocketing straight into the reflective glass. A crash echoed across the room, and large sections of glass fell to the floor and shattered. Jane took no notice as she gripped the desk and took every second she had to reach out with her remaining power and scan the room beyond. She saw a simple room with computer terminals and banks of servers and hard drives. Various electronic equipment was positioned across the rectangular space. Three technicians stared at her, motionless in their shock.

  Lucas was screaming, but she was concentrating too fiercely to hear him.

  “TURN IT BACK ON!” he was shouting, and she finally heard this clearly.

  She saw one of the technicians jump to life and operate one of the terminals in front of him. She doubled over then and felt the familiar nausea overcome her as the field was once again turned on.

  Lucas stood up and stared down at her for a moment. The meeting was clearly over. “Get out of here,” he said, breathing deeply.

  She stood and walked towards the door.

  “You’re confined to your room for the next twenty-four hours.”

  She didn’t stop as he said this, simply leaving through the door and closing it behind her. In the cool, dark hallway, she was deeply grateful for the opportunity to lean against the doorframe and close her eyes.

  Lucas had come close to touching something inside her. She wasn’t sure what it was, but it terrified her. She had thought herself invulnerable to him, but now she wondered. A new fear of him lurked in her mind.

  She began to breathe deeply and tried to calm herself. After a few moments, she felt better. She was about to leave when she heard Lucas slam his fist on the desk behind the door and emit a muffled “Damn.” She thought she heard the sound of cracking glass.

  There goes a hundred thousand dollars, she thought and nearly laughed, but didn’t. She forced herself to move, but stopped when she heard him yelling from inside.

  “Did we get what we need?” He was obviously speaking to the people in the room that had been hidden behind the reflective glass. She thought she could hear a faint “no” coming from the room.

  She looked up at the lights and decided it was time to start moving, lest he come out of the room. She made her way back to her own room—the locks opening automatically this time—and went inside. After a few moments, the door slid shut with a heavy metallic clank, thanks to Lucas, no doubt. She imagined him in a room somewhere, watching her and waiting for her to walk inside so that he could lock her in. She turned down the dimmer switch as far as it would go, took off her shoes and lay on the sterile bed.

  She tried to relax as she thought about what she had seen when she broke the glass. She had caught a glimpse of what was happening in the room beyond, but only a glimpse: a few images from one of the technician’s minds. They had been fragmentary, but she had just enough information to understand how the suppression system was set up and how it worked. Perhaps, with her new friends and some luck, she would be able to break her way through it.

  As she drifted off to sleep, she thought of Lucas and whatever information he seemed so desperate to find. She thought of Max too, and realised that he had omitted vital information from his explanations as well. She remembered the dream from her youth and the figure he had been, standing over her and appearing cyclopean: some mesmerising, beautiful giant. Even then,
she had known. She had known there was something else going on behind the scenes. Now she felt that for the first time, she was being exposed to it.

  Later, she dreamt that she was on the beach in Wexford, the place she had always felt most at home; it was the irreplaceable object from a long-forgotten youth. The sea was a layer of cold, reflective glass in front of her, but behind her, over the dunes, the clouds grew dark, and she could hear thunder in the distance. It was not the thunder of an approaching storm, but something entirely different: something ominous and beyond her ability to comprehend.