Persistence of Vision

  Chapter 6: Explanations

  After several minutes of silence, Maggie could stand it no longer.

  “Is someone gonna tell me what’s going on, or are we just going to sit here and stare at each other?”

  Doc smiled, glancing behind her to Marcus. Maggie turned to see him looking amused. Marcus saw her glaring, took on a chastened look, and directed his gaze to the floor.

  “I’m sorry, Maggie,” Doc said. “I know you have numerous questions. I will endeavor to answer them all. But we have a few questions for you as well. Why don’t you start by telling me everything you remember of what happened in Vegas?”

  Maggie regarded him with suspicion. Marcus had been in Vegas, of that she was sure. They were surprised that she remembered that. Didn’t logic suggest that these were the people responsible for what happened to her? It must have been sinister, and yet here she was at their mercy and answering their questions!

  Doc seemed to sense her reservations and leaned forward, putting a hand over hers.

  “I know this is confusing, Maggie, but if you’ll just trust me a bit further, I’ll explain everything.”

  Maggie knew she ought to object, but what could she do? She’d come this far. Besides, her curiosity for the answers they would give was too strong to ignore. With a sigh, she related what happened in Vegas as she remembered it, beginning with seeing Marcus and ending with the fruitless police investigation.

  She left out a few details, such as how she felt when Marcus grabbed her arm and the fact that he’d said her name and cried. It might be embarrassing for him, but more importantly, it would be embarrassing for her!

  When she finished, there was silence. Minutes passed. Maggie was annoyed.

  “So we’re back to silence again?”

  Doc smiled at her, but it was Marcus that spoke.

  “Does that make any sense to you, Doc?”

  Maggie turned toward him with indignation. What? He didn’t believe her? Doc was sitting right in front of her and must have seen her angry response, but he answered Marcus in a detached way.

  “Not any linear sense, but we’re not dealing with linear time, are we? In view of everything, I daresay it almost…fits.”

  “How?”

  Maggie didn’t look at Marcus when he spoke, though she’d nearly chimed in with the same question.

  Doc looked like he would venture an explanation then shook his head. “I’m not sure. I can’t vouch for the science of it. I’ll have to look up some things…” He trailed off, looking at the walls of his office as though he was a professor and there were books lining the walls.

  A few strange, flat panels that resembled flat-screen TVs were all that adorned the walls. If they were electronic, their condition suggested that they’d stopped working years ago.

  “For now”—Doc sat forward and clapped his hands together—“we owe Maggie some answers.”

  Maggie leaned forward eagerly, but Doc sat staring at the ground for several seconds. She considered slapping the guy.

  “Forgive me, Maggie,” he said. “I’m trying to decide where to begin. Before I do, I must ask you two favors. The first is patience. I will allow you to ask questions as we go along, but I may not answer them right away.”

  Maggie nodded, dreading what was sure to be a long explanation.

  “Second, please wait until the end of my story before you dismiss any of it. Based on where you’ve come from, it’s going to sound quite fantastical to you. I appeal to your good sense—which I know you have—as well as to your excellent judgment of people and the world, which I’ve seen firsthand.”

  She opened her mouth to object, but he raised a hand. “I know that makes no sense to you, but that is exactly what I mean. Let me tell my story. We will address any additional questions you have afterward. Agreed?”

  Not seeing much of a choice, Maggie nodded, willing him to get on with it.

  “You were born sometime near the end of the twentieth century, is that right?”

  Maggie frowned. “Yes.”

  “Not many years from now, then, uh… What I mean to say is that in your not very distant future, a man by the name of—well, I suppose his name is not important. A man we’ll call…Smith will be born. He’ll be one of the foremost minds in the study of the neurological field.”

  Maggie almost interjected but remembered that she’d promised to be patient. Scowling, she held her tongue.

  “In your time, the human genome has been mapped, but the human brain, specifically, has not. Tell me, Maggie, what do you know of the human brain?”

  Maggie had once entertained thoughts of entering the medical field. She’d even taken anatomy and psychology classes in college. She was no doctor, but she knew more than the average civilian.

  “I know that little is known about why the brain works. Neurosurgeons say that they do certain procedures because they work, but no one can explain why. We don’t have the technology to study the brain on the level we would have to in order to fully understand it.”

  “Exactly. In your time, the technology does not exist to map all the pathways, biochemical processes, and neurological miracles that are the human brain. This man of whom I speak, who is born a decade or two from the year you come from, is the man who will invent that technology.”

  “You’re saying that you’re from the future? Maggie looked back at Marcus, who met her gaze steadily.

  “So are you, for the time being.”

  Her eyes widened. She looked at Marcus again. “That thing in the field? We…jumped…through time?”

  “It’s a little more complicated than that, but yes.”

  Maggie’s mind raced, making connections. “So what does that mean about Vegas? Is that how you all know me? Because I met you in the future?”

  “Actually,” Marcus said, “you met us in the past.”

  “What?”

  “All right!” Doc was looking back and forth between them, trying frantically to break in. Now he stood and waved his hands for silence. “This is exactly what I want to avoid. If we don’t get through the entire explanation without deviating, it will only confuse you further.”

  He sat back down, throwing Marcus a shut-up-or-get-out look. “We are from your future. That’s what we’re telling you, Maggie.”

  She laughed without humor and rested her eyes in her hand. Seriously?

  “I know this is a lot, Maggie, but you promised you’d hear me out, right?”

  She looked up to find him staring at her anxiously. “If you’re from the future, why don’t you know what year this neurologist was born in?”

  He looked pleased. “Astute as ever, I see, Maggie. It’s because our calendar system has been lost. You will understand why as I explain further, but suffice it to say that we don’t know what year we are in, relative to yours. I can’t tell you how far in the future we are from you. We’ve adopted a calendar of sorts to record the time, but we have no way of comparing it to yours or using it to pinpoint ourselves on your timeline.”

  She sighed. “So what did he find?”

  The doctor’s eyebrow went up. “Pardon?”

  “This neurologist. When he mapped the brain, what did he find?”

  The doctor smiled. “A great deal. He mapped every neurochemical interaction in the brain on a smaller level than ever before. He discovered that every part of us is mapped out in our brains. It’s a collage of who we are. There are signatures for every aspect of our physical beings, yes, but also for our mental and emotional beings. Chemical states exist in the brain that identify our personalities, our tendencies, and—most importantly—the choices we make.”

  Maggie frowned. “How do you mean?”

  “Imagine two people standing side by side. They are the same age and gender, let’s say male. One is taller, has a more defined body, better skin tone, and a healthy glow about his face. The other is less physically toned, has sallow skin, yellow teeth, and bloodshot eyes. What does this tell us about these two men?”
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  “The better-looking one is healthier. He takes care of himself. The other has unhealthy habits.”

  The doctor nodded his approval. “This is an obvious example. Their basic activities and the substances they put into their bodies show up in their physical makeup. But what if I told you that every choice you make, even the ones that have nothing to do with your physical body, show up in your brain chemistry? Every moral choice, every piece of knowledge you acquire and what you decide to do with it, every decision at every crossroads shows up in your brain.”

  Maggie considered this. It was an intriguing idea. “It would mean that everyone’s brain chemistry is vastly different.”

  “Indeed, but do you see the import of this discovery? The origin of every disease could be traced, weeded out, eradicated. Even psychological neuroses could be identified and dealt with.”

  “It sounds like a golden age of health.” Maggie gazed back and forth between the two men, compiling everything she was being told and taking into account what had happened over the last twelve hours—Vegas, time travel, all of it.

  “So what went wrong?”

  Doc’s lips smiled, but his eyes were cloudy. “Human morality was not up to the challenge these discoveries posed. We made all the right discoveries but drew all the wrong conclusions.”

  “How so?”

  “People used brain chemistry as an excuse. Consider a criminal—let’s say a killer. His brain chemistry is different from the average person’s. People saw this and said it was not the criminal’s fault that he was a criminal. His brain chemistry was a mess. His behavior was due to a chemical imbalance and not his own fault.”

  Maggie thought about the implications. She’d always been a strong believer in accountability for one’s actions, but didn’t this discovery support the opposite argument?

  “You’re saying,” she ventured, “that isn’t the case? That there aren’t chemical imbalances?”

  Doc shook his head. “I’m saying there are. That was the discovery. But the conclusion was wrong. Think about what I’ve already told you. Every choice changes our brain chemistry. It happens on a zeptoscopic—uh, I mean, very, very, very small level, much smaller than a microscope can see—but it does happen. The killer does have a choice. He doesn’t kill because he has a chemical imbalance. He has a chemical imbalance because he kills. Granted, he may have been set on the road to this behavior from a young age by something he couldn’t control, such as abuse. That varies from person to person and is quite irrelevant for our purposes.

  “The point is that within a few years, the world’s criminal justice systems went down the toilet, if you’ll excuse the expression.”

  “So…what? They just opened the prison doors and let everyone go?”

  “In a manner of speaking. No one could be punished for their crimes anymore. They were blamed on altered brain chemistry due to prior negative circumstances. The criminal was put in therapy to correct their brain chemistry. Now, don’t get me wrong. Therapy can work if a person truly commits themselves to it, but these were criminals. They had no desire to change or do good in society. They did what was required and then went back to their same nasty habits.”

  “Let me guess,” Maggie said drily. “They went after law enforcement first?”

  Doc shook his head. “They didn’t have to. The politicians and psychologists had already done that. It was believed that law enforcement was all but obsolete in view of the new psychological discoveries. Oh, a few arresting officers were still needed to bring those who ‘needed help’ to where they could get it, but prisons became obsolete. Investigators of every kind went out of fashion. Psychologists and neurologists were the new detectives. They held every individual’s sanity at their fingertips.”

  “Were they corrupt?”

  “In every group there are a few bad apples, but I think most of these men and women believed in what they were doing. They hoped to make society a better, more peaceful place. Their motives were good, if naïve.

  “The criminals became roving bands of mercenaries, laws and kings unto themselves. They went after politicians and other civic leaders. The short of it is that society fell completely apart within a few decades.”

  Doc sat back and was silent.

  Maggie felt depression sinking in. What a world to come from! But it wasn’t another world. This was her future too. “Is that the end of the story?”

  Doc smiled, a twinkle in his eye. “Not exactly.” He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his thighs. “There was a group, Maggie, a small, obscure group of men and women who saw it coming. They knew the instant Smith’s discovery hit the airwaves that it would be the downfall of society. Or at least they knew it was a possibility and began to plan for it.

  “Understand this discovery itself is not evil. It was a miraculous discovery with infinite potential for good. The problem was that people did the wrong things with it.”

  “Potential for what kinds of good things?”

  “So glad you asked! This brain mapping opened the door to super-brain stimulation. There are parts of the brain that human beings were not using. Scientists didn’t know what those parts were for. They knew humans used only a fraction of their brainpower, especially in the cerebral cortex, and that it had something to do with human evolution. That was all. Just another brain mystery. The mapping of the brain was the first step of many that led to stimulation of the unused parts of the brain.”

  Maggie rubbed her forehead, hoping to forestall a headache. She was having trouble keeping up with him.

  “What are we talking about here, Doc, telekinesis?”

  She was joking, and her face fell when the doctor cocked his head to the side and answered, “Among other things.”

  Maggie’s mouth fell open. Her head whipped rapidly between the two men. So many things raced through her head that she had trouble putting them into words. The first to make it out were, “Can you two read my mind?”

  Doc chuckled and Marcus smiled, both shaking their heads.

  “Relax, Maggie. Neither Marcus or I can do any such thing. Your private thoughts are your own.”

  Maggie tried to regard them both warily, but that was tricky as they were standing one hundred and eighty degrees apart.

  “So what can you do?”

  “Everyone has different strengths. Think of physical genetics. Everyone has a different body type. Some people are tall and, no matter how much they eat, will always be thin. Others have to work for it and, even if they are thin, will always be short. In a similar fashion, everyone has different strengths, tendencies, and abilities when it comes to brain stimulation.

  “Telepathy, as you are thinking of it, is possible, but extremely difficult. I have only met a handful of people in my lifetime who are capable of it, and even their abilities are sparse. I am particularly adept at sensing atmospheric changes, especially heat.”

  Maggie frowned. “Like what?”

  “I can sense the change in the air when a warm body comes within a mile of me. It can be a valuable ability when moving through enemy territory or trying not to be a predator’s next meal.”

  The last was said with a mischievous smile, and Maggie had the feeling that Doc had been in just such a situation before.

  “So,” Maggie hurried on, “what’s all that got to do with the degradation of society? This group you spoke of—”

  “BCO. It stands for Brain Chemistry Optimists. It’s what they called themselves.”

  “Oh. Well, they…did what exactly?”

  “They knew they had to preserve humanity for the future. They began experimenting on themselves. It’s not as dangerous as it sounds. All they did was use the discovery of the brain map to manipulate their own abilities. They did research, conducted experiments, and taught themselves to use their minds in extraordinary ways. They told as many people as would listen that it is choice, not brain chemistry, that determines our actions and that only by being accountable for our actions could society conti
nue to function.

  “Few listened to them. As those who could profit from the downfall of society rose in the ranks, the BCO became hunted. Eventually they had to go into hiding. They knew society would continue to decline and would eventually hit rock bottom before it could be rebuilt. They taught their children to be patient and vigilant and look for the opportunity to rebuild.”

  He didn’t go on right away, and Maggie still didn’t understand why she was here or what any of this had to do with her. She was certainly no telepath.

  “So…you’re saying that this BCO group… You’re part of it—”

  “We’re their children and descendants.”

  “And…what?” She looked back and forth between them again. “Society has hit rock bottom, and now you’re trying to rebuild it?”

  The doctor smiled. “Not exactly. I’m not so sure society is at rock bottom yet. Or perhaps it is but is staying there for the time being. However, another phenomenon rose about twenty years ago—uh, in our time.”

  “What phenomenon?”

  “At the time, roving gangs did as they pleased, terrorizing normal people. Most people fought tooth and nail simply to eat and keep their children safe. Fewer children were being born, because no one could trust each other enough to form lasting relationships, let alone intimate ones. People began banding together for security. At least, that’s all it was at first. Think of it like a circle of wagons—men and women coming together, agreeing to abide by a certain set of rules and watch each other’s backs.”

  “Makes sense.”

  “Perhaps. But now throw in the element of neurochemical stimulation.”

  Maggie frowned. “Meaning what?”

  “Meaning that now people were joining not just physically but mentally too. They were linking the networks of their minds like so many lines of needlework—too intricately to be undone, at least by any outsider.”

  “You’re saying that they became…a collective?”

  “Precisely. A collective conscious that moves, thinks, and acts as one. Oh, it’s understandable, I suppose. The world was such a crazy place back then. There was no society anymore, no civility. People wanted safety, security, peace of mind. The collectives gave them that.”

  Doc fell silent, lost in thought. Maggie glanced at Marcus and found him far away too. Maggie realized this was a real and disturbing issue for them. It was one Doc had lived through. She wasn’t sure how old Marcus was, but he looked a bit older than her twenty-four years. That meant that he would have been a child while this was going on. What a strange atmosphere to grow up in.

  Maggie sagged against her chair, not sure what to feel. From the way Doc was talking, he didn’t approve of the collectives. That was good; she didn’t either. Yet that meant that the BCOs were the freedom fighters of individuality in a century so far from her own in every way as to be quite alien to her. What could men like these want with her? And what had Marcus meant about having met her in the past but her not remembering?

  “So,” she prodded, “these collectives sprang up and…”

  “Oh, right. At first there were just small groups, but they galvanized. Soon whole collectives were joining together. Then it was odd not to be part of one. Those who still had individual minds were the minority. Long story short—eventually only four large collectives governed the entire world.”

  “Four?”

  “Yes. Essentially they were North America, South America, Europe, and Asia. Not that they stayed within these geographical boundaries, mind you. They migrated around, and such continental distinctions can no longer be made in terms of political boundaries. The world as you know it is completely non-existent here.”

  “Where’s here?”

  “Here is the same place it is in your time, only now you’re in our time.”

  “So this cavern doesn’t exist in my time?”

  “No. It was built years after you were born—actually, years after you died”—Maggie winced—“by the BCO’s.”

  “Now we come to the crux of the matter, Maggie. The problem with collectives is that, in theory, they work. Far be it for me to criticize any political theory. Most of the philosophical logic is sound. The problem is that reality is not philosophy, and political theories fail to take in the human element.”

  Maggie’s headache was getting worse. “Doc, you lost me.”

  “Sorry. In theory, collectives can exist in perfect harmony. In reality, they exist less like communism and more like Marxism.”

  Maggie had to turn that over in her head. “Are you saying that one person is controlling each of these collectives?”

  Doc smiled like a proud teacher at a prize pupil. “Yes. We don’t know the particulars. It may be an elite group or a single person.”

  “But how can you tell they’re being controlled and are not a perfect collective?”

  The doctor looked at her steadily. His easy smiled had vanished. “Because ten years ago, the collectives began hunting individuals.”

  A chill started in the middle of Maggie’s back and vibrated outward. It took her breath away. Doc’s words hung in the air like the after image of a fluorescent light, but blinking didn’t take them away.

  Maggie leaned forward. “Doc, what’s this got to do with me?”

  “When the individuals began to die mysteriously or simply disappear, other things began to happen as well. The world began to…shift, almost imperceptibly. We aren’t sure what went on during those years—no one kept records that we know of—but what we do know is this: there are now only two collectives.”

  “Wait. Two were killed? Or did they join together?”

  “The latter. The thing is that two and two did not join together. Rather, one absorbed two of the other three.”

  “You think the mastermind is trying to absorb everyone in the world into a single collective?”

  Doc nodded. “Such an individual or group of individuals would control the world through one collective conscience. The crux of it, Maggie, is that we in the BCO are trying to stop it.”

  “How?”

  “In order to bring down the collectives, we must know more about them. We are continually gathering information, intercepting messages between the collectives, trying to infiltrate them, and trying to learn more about them in any way that presents itself. As of right now, we are a long way from our aims, but we remain positive and keep moving forward.”

  Maggie thought about that for a moment. “It sounds like you’re ants on a sandy beach trying to stop the tide.”

  He smiled without mirth. “That’s one way to look at it.”

  “Then why try?”

  “How can we do anything else? All of us have sworn that we will not live as part of the collective. We see it as a form of slavery. We will live free or die fighting. That is our creed.”

  Maggie shivered. “So what happens next? Will the two remaining collectives fight?”

  Doc spread his hands. “Though I can tell you a great deal about your future, Maggie, I can tell you nothing about ours. There is a lot we don’t know: who the mastermind or minds are, how the smaller collectives are being absorbed, if they’re putting up resistance.”

  “What do we know?” Maggie asked, surprised to find that she’d included herself in their group.

  “We know that individuals are being murdered. A true collective would have neither the ability nor the inclination for such an act, so there must be someone else behind it. A collective might try to convince other individuals to join them, sell them on what they believe is a better way of life. But murder takes passion and individual decision, which true collectives don’t have.”

  “How are the individuals being murdered?” The question came out before she thought about it. In truth, she wasn’t sure she wanted to know.

  “Assassination, mostly. They send men called Arachnimen. They come on their own or in small groups. We’ve captured a few but have not gotten much information out of them. They may be individuals—and by that I
mean not tied to the collective—but just brainwashed. Or they may be intricately tied to the collective mind. We simply don’t know.”

  “You met some of them,” Marcus said, “back at your house. They got their name from the spider web tattoo they all have over their left eye.”

  “Met some of them?” Doc’s face contorted in alarm.

  “I didn’t get a chance to fill you in, Doc. One of them beat me there and hurt her. Two more chased us to the meadow. They grabbed her ankle and tried to drill. I did my thing, and I think she’s all right, but I wanted you to check her out, just to be sure.”

  “What thing?” Maggie burst out. “What did you do to me?”

  Doc made calming gestures with his hands. “It’s one of the neurochemical abilities I was referring to earlier. Marcus can reconnect torn or shattered neural pathways, or if that’s not possible, forge new ones.”

  “Meaning…he healed me?”

  Doc smiled again with pleasure. “Exactly.”

  Maggie looked at Marcus in a new light. He’d saved her in more ways than one. He was still leaning against the wall near the door and looking particularly uncomfortable.

  Maggie sighed. She still didn’t have the answers she wanted.

  “Doc, I don’t mean to belittle any of this. I understand the magnitude of everything you’ve told me. I think. But you still haven’t said what this has to do with me. What am I doing here?”

  “I’m getting there, Maggie. I promise.”

  “But how can you even be sure you can win? Maybe this is simply the next phase in human evolution.”

  “That question is a perfect segue into the next part of the explanation.”

  Maggie crossed her arms in exasperation. “Which is?”

  Doc went to the other side of the desk and rummaged through the drawers. Maggie turned questioning eyes on Marcus, but he just gazed at her steadily.

  Finally Doc found what he was looking for and came back to his seat. In his hands he held a shiny, silver rock. It was small enough for the doctor to cup easily in his hands but looked heavy. Its height and thickness seemed to be roughly equal, but it wasn’t perfectly round. The surface seemed almost metallic.

  “What is that?”

  “This is called a conduit stone.”

  “What does it do?”

  “Only what I tell it to. Hold still please, Maggie.”

  Holding the stone out a few inches from his body, Doc closed his eyes and was silent for long seconds. A low humming sound began somewhere deep in Maggie’s ear canal. Perhaps it had always been there and she was just now noticing it because of the silence. Or perhaps it was the very silence she was hearing. The hum stopped as soon as Doc opened his eyes.

  He smiled brightly. “Everything’s fine.” He shot Marcus a reassuring smile.

  Marcus nodded, looking mildly relieved.

  “So.” Doc twisted around in his chair and set the stone on the desk. “Back to our explanation.”

  “No, no, no!” Maggie waved her hands around. “What was that? What did you do? Stop being so cryptic.”

  Doc looked taken aback. His eyes widened in almost comic surprise, and he chuckled.

  “I see what you mean, Marcus. It is disconcerting, isn’t it? Forgive me, Maggie. This may happen to you a lot at first. We are all going to assume that you understand certain things. We know logically that you don’t, but we have memories of you so we just naturally assume…”

  He stopped, chuckled again, and took a deep breath.

  “Forgive me. This stone amplifies my neurochemical abilities. As a doctor, I use my gifts mostly for medical purposes. I was conducting a medical scan. I use the stone to scan all systems of your body to make sure that you are in complete homeostasis. Marcus did a good job when he healed you. You are in perfect health. I also scanned him, since he did battle with the Arachnimen, and he’s fine as well. Now, to move on…”

  Doc started talking again, but Maggie couldn’t concentrate on what he was saying. This was getting more farfetched by the minute. He used his mind and a shiny rock to do a medical scan? She felt like holding her shirt more tightly closed.

  “And then—” Doc was saying. “Maggie? Are you all right?”

  She looked up at him. “This is a lot to take in, Doc.”

  His smile was sympathetic.

  “I mean, forgive me if you’re not, but how do I know that you aren’t both crazy?”

  She prepared for an outburst or at least indignation on his part. No one liked to be asked if they were nuts.

  Doc leaned forward, took both her hands in his, and smiled. “You are forgiven, Maggie.” He said it with such empathy and steadiness that she regretted her assertion. Could a lunatic be so genuine?

  “The truth is that you can’t be sure. I can only ask you to trust me. Or better yet, trust yourself. That was one thing that always amazed me about you. You have an uncanny ability to discern the truth in any situation, even when you don’t have all the facts. I always thought it might be a neurological ability of some kind, though I can’t be sure of that. Trust your instincts. Do you really think we’re crazy? Or that we mean you any harm?”

  Maggie considered her experiences over the last few hours. When the Arachniman entered her home, even before it became obvious that his intentions were malevolent, she’d been afraid of him. He inspired panic, stark fear. But here that was not the case. She wanted an explanation and was a bit nervous to hear what it was, but despite the two strange men, the alien surroundings, and the crazy-sounding history, Maggie was not afraid. She actually felt very calm.

  She shook her head. “I suppose I don’t. Please go on.”

  “One woman in the BCO found that she was able to interact with the fabric of the space-time continuum in such a way as to wrap it around herself.”

  “Physically?”

  “That I can’t answer with certainty. There are things we don’t understand about certain abilities. For example, you would probably say that telepathy is not physical. It has to do with thought waves traveling between two people but does not affect the physical body. Yes?”

  Maggie nodded. “I guess.”

  “Yet the ability for telepathy shows up in the brain chemistry. It takes a certain type of physical brain to have the ability. So where is the line between physical and nonphysical? We don’t know. This woman could envelope herself in space and time, but whether that was happening physically or in some other way, I couldn’t say. It was she who explained it this way—that she could wrap herself in the linear timeline, curling it around herself like a blanket.

  “To what purpose?”

  “Why to see beyond the present, of course.”

  Maggie felt her eyebrows rise. “She could see the future?”

  “Yes, but only bits and pieces of it. We can’t see every part of a blanket when it’s wrapped around us, can we? She became a prophetess, writing down what she could see. There was just one problem: immersing herself in this phenomenon took a lot of energy. It was exhausting and prematurely aged her brain. She lived only a few years after discovering the ability.

  “She left us glimpses. If it was a pleasant future, we would have something to hope for. If not, then perhaps we could change it.”

  “And?” Maggie leaned forward in her chair. “Which was it?”

  “It was both. And neither. Most of her early prophecies were just what I said—glimpses. They were statements of fact. Just before she died, she gave a final prophecy. And you might say that we live our lives by it.”

  “How so?”

  “The prophecy states, and I quote, that a ‘too common slavery’ will come upon humankind.”

  “Too common, meaning the collectives?”

  He nodded. “Yes, we believe that to be the interpretation. It says that an end must be put to this slavery, or humanity—as a trait, you understand—may be lost forever.”

  Maggie swallowed. This was heavy. “And who is to stop it?”

  “Not one person alone bu
t a group of people working together. It’s interesting to me that it’s a group working together that must stop it. A group that works together like a well-oiled machine shares many traits in common with a collective. The question is, where should individuality and collectivism meet?”

  “So where’s the dividing line?”

  “There isn’t one. We must simply be on our guard about becoming too like the collectives while still finding ways to work together for the greater good.”

  Maggie frowned. “Sounds difficult.”

  Doc smiled. “It can be, but not as much as you might imagine on a day-to-day basis.”

  “So…what? You two are part of this group that’s trying to break up the collectives?”

  “Yes, we think so.”

  “You think so?”

  Doc leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees again. “You may wonder why I don’t let you read the prophecy. I’d be happy to show it to you, but I don’t think you’d be able to read it. It’s not written in any conventional, communicative language.”

  “What’s it written in?”

  “Chemical equations. The only people who could hope to read and truly understand it are organic chemists. The prophecy mentions a group that must work together to end the collective slavery, but it only mentions specific traits about the members of this group. Each member has a specific function, and the prophecy gives the chemical formula for a specific brain chemistry that must perform that function.”

  “So, if your brain chemistry matches the one named in the prophecy, then you must be a member of the group?”

  “Yes, but please understand me. When I say the prophecy gives the formula for a certain brain chemistry, I don’t mean that it gives the complete formula for an individual’s brain map. A person’s brain changes so drastically from day to day, based on sense experiences and mundane decisions, that it would be impossible to pinpoint it in so specific a way. No, the prophecy simply mentions certain traits that must be present for an individual to qualify for that role on the team.”

  “And let me guess,” Maggie said with a sigh, “many people could possibly fill that role?”

  “Theoretically.”

  “You don’t think so?”

  “I think we shouldn’t second guess ourselves too much. If a person meets the criteria and happens to show up in the right place and time to know about it, they are the right person for the job, no matter that others possibly could do it.”

  “So you believe in fate?”

  Doc smiled. “I consider myself more religious than superstitious, Maggie, but I do believe everything happens for a reason, yes.”

  Maggie held up her hands. “Could you give me an example of what you mean by these roles?”

  Doc sat back in his chair. “Of course. There is one brain chemistry mentioned in the prophecy, whose role is Healer.”

  Maggie nodded. “And that would be you?”

  Doc smiled cryptically. “No. I am not the healer mentioned in the prophecy. The brain chemistry required is one that has neurochemical aptitude for healing. This is just my chosen profession.”

  Maggie’s eyes slid toward Marcus, who was looking at the ground.

  “Yes, Maggie.” Doc nodded. “You’ve guessed correctly. Marcus is the Healer. The roles in the prophecy have to do with our neurochemical abilities not our academic prowess, personalities, or outward appearances. And even then we don’t know their full scope.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “The roles are very ambiguous. I, for example, am named as Witness. I’m not sure what that means, and the prophecy gives no clues. I believe that I am the one who will not only live through the fulfillment of the prophecy, but also document it for future generations. I keep meticulous records of all we do and am acquainted with every aspect of our mission. That is what I believe my role to be, but I could be wrong. Or perhaps I am right, but there is more to it than I presently understand. There’s simply no way to tell. But that’s a discussion for another time.

  “Now to the point. We reached a time a few years ago when three roles cited in the prophecy were still unfilled. We searched everywhere but couldn’t find anyone, anywhere on earth, that met the brain chemistry requirements the prophecy mentioned. Of course, we can’t count on those minds in the collectives, and that includes most of the earth’s population. We were at a loss.

  “Then we found Karl. His brain chemistry matched one of the vacant spots listed in the prophecy. Karl is a Traveler, which means he has time-travel capabilities. He’s the first we’ve seen with that ability in years.”

  The pieces clicked into place so quickly that it took Maggie’s breath away. Doc seemed to sense her comprehension and waited for her to speak.

  “You started looking for people in other time periods to fill the vacant roles.”

  “Precisely. I’ll let Marcus fill you in on the details of what happened last time you were here. The short of it is that a year ago we found you, snatched you up, and asked you to help us. You agreed and were with us for almost a year. We know you because we all formed close friendships during that time. Things happened that made it necessary for us to return you to your own time but without your memories.”

  “So why have you snatched me up again?”

  “Because once again we need your help. We only sent you back because we hoped that we had brought down the collectives. It was a small hope and one that took a long time to be certain of, but it’s obvious now that we’ve failed, and we don’t even know why. So we’ve brought you back.”

  Maggie frowned. “So…you came to get me because the collectives are coalescing again?”

  “That’s why we needed to bring you back in general. We have networks of individuals who are committed to helping us fight the collectives. We sent Marcus to get you today because one of those networks intercepted a message that said the collectives were going to assassinate you. We thought we had plenty of time to collect you. The message said they wouldn’t be sending the Arachniman for weeks. That he made it there before Marcus is…disturbing. They changed their timeline for some reason.” He trailed off, lost in thought.

  “My memories…can they be restored?” Maggie asked.

  “I’m afraid not.” Doc shook himself. “They aren’t blocked but completely erased. You will have to learn and meet everything and everyone anew. I know it will be difficult, but if we are to give humanity a future, all members of the team must be present. So here we all are.”

  Doc leaned forward, taking both of Maggie’s hands. “Maggie, if there’s one thing we believe in, it’s freedom, specifically free will. If we undermine our own free will or that of each other, we’ll be no better than the collectives we fight against. I want you to know you have a choice in this. We’ve forced it on you thus far, and we need your help, so we’ll try and convince you to help us. But if, in the end, you don’t want to, we’ll take you back to your own time and leave you alone. The choice is entirely yours, and we will respect it.”

  Maggie opened her mouth, but he put up his hand.

  “Please don’t answer now. You still don’t have all the information you need. That may take a few days. You need to meet the team so you know who you’ll be working with. Give it some time. There’s no rush. Let me know when you’ve made your decision.”

  Maggie nodded, relieved he wasn’t pressuring her.

  “Well.” Doc looked around and stood up. “I know I’ve laid a lot of information on you, and I suspect you’re exhausted. I recommend that you get some sleep and food before Marcus relates the particulars of your time spent with us before. I’ll let him take you to your lodgings. I have some things to see to before I turn in myself.”

  He started for the door then hesitated. “Maggie, I know you don’t know me, but may I just say that I’m glad you’re here. You and I were close friends, and…you’ve been missed.” His smile was affectionate and, had Maggie not felt vaguely sick to her stomach, she would have been touched. He turned to leave t
he room.

  “Doc?”

  Doc stopped beside Marcus and turned to look at her.

  “What’s my role?”

  Doc looked at the floor between them. Then he and Marcus exchanged worried glances.

  “You said the prophecy named a role for each person. What role does the prophecy assign me?”

  Doc swallowed before looking up at her. “Executioner.”