Mute (Muted Trilogy Book 1) (8 page)

Jemma opened her mouth to speak, but then she closed it again. What should she say?

“Hi,” she tried finally.

Her throat didn’t feel as if it produced sound, and she couldn’t hear her own voice as internally as she had when speaking normally. Instead, as when her mom had spoken, there was an echo near the front of her mind, the vaguest impression of both image and sound, not quite synced up properly, as if her brain weren’t entirely sure how to translate what it was receiving.
Weird
, she tried mumbling to herself, but nothing happened. She focused her attention back on her mother and tried again. “This is weird.”

Her mother nodded, tears in her eyes, and she pulled Jemma into a hug.

“It’s less weird if you don’t think about it,” her mother told her. “It’s so good to hear your voice again!”

Feeling her mother’s mouth move near her ear and “hearing” the words from a different direction was disorienting, and Jemma pulled back.

“It’s not even been two weeks, Mom.”

“I know, but I thought I might never hear your voice again, might never get to really speak to you again without some fake voice.” Carolyn wiped at her eyes, then visibly pulled herself together. “Come on, let’s sit down and I’ll tell you what we know so far.”

Jemma nodded, and they moved to the living room. “Where are Dad and Jilly?” she asked.

“They went to see whether or not they could talk to the neighbors.” They sat, and Carolyn turned so she was facing Jemma. “Okay, so, it doesn’t reach very far. A little further than a whisper, but the edge of the room is hit or miss. I can speak to Dad from further than your sister can, but it’s still gone by the end of the room. It doesn’t work over the phone, either. We tried that, first. I would have called you, but I didn’t want you wondering what was going on if you couldn’t hear me.”

“That makes sense,” said Jemma in response to her mother’s pause, and she was rewarded with the slight widening of an already-present smile.

“Jilly can talk without moving her mouth. She was trying to tell us how she does it, but your father and I haven’t been to make it work for us, so I’ll wait and let her explain that part. I guess that’s about it.” Her mother took a breath as if she’d been talking in the more standard way.

“Thanks for letting me know,” said Jemma. “I might not have noticed until Friday.”

A flash of regret crossed Carolyn’s face. “This is why I want you to find someone you’re happy with.”

Jemma managed a smile. “You mean you were worried that the world might suddenly lose its voice and then gain telepathy and I wouldn’t have anyone at home to talk to about it?” She rubbed her forehead at the still-odd sensation of this form of speech.

Her mother crossed her arms. “You know what I mean. I don’t like knowing that you’re all alone.”

Jemma sighed, the silence of the action more jarring after the return of semi-audible communication. She shook her head. “I’m not alone. I have you guys. I’m content, Mom. If someone comes along, sure, okay, I’m open to it I guess, but I’m not going to force it. I don’t feel like there’s anything missing from my life, and I’d appreciate it if you’d stop trying to make me feel as if there were.” She closed her eyes again. The gentle pressure of her mother’s hand rested on her shoulder, and Jemma looked at her mom.

“I’m sorry,” Carolyn said. “I know you have your life under control. It’s just that especially with everything that’s been happening, I worry. You know I can’t help that. I worry about my students, too, and even your father on his short drive to work because I know most accidents happen close to home. I shouldn’t give you a hard time because of my own problems.”

Jemma patted her mother’s hand atop her shoulder. “I know.” Before she could decide whether to elaborate further, Jemma heard the back door open and two sets of footsteps in the house. When she could see her father, she tried to greet him, but nothing happened. She frowned, but Matthew held up a finger and walked closer. When he was about ten feet away, he stopped and gestured toward her. “Hi, Dad,” she said, sound echoing this time.

“Oh!” said Carolyn, “I nearly forgot to tell you! Only who you’re thinking about can hear you, but you can talk to more than one person, as long as they’re someone you can talk to. You just have to be thinking about talking to both of them. So it’s a little harder to talk to more than one person at a time, but it’s possible.” Jemma nodded, and Carolyn turned to face her husband. “Were you able to speak with any of the neighbors?”

Jemma closed her eyes yet again, this time focusing on the communication as her father spoke.

“No, we weren’t able to. I doubt we’ll be able to use this to teach, so we’ll still be inundated with these infernal electronics.”

She realized that she could almost see the words in her mind, like tiny subtitles on a movie, the letters overlapping with the impression of her father’s speaking voice. She wasn’t entirely sure which was coming first, letters and sounds too close together to really separate them, and this seemed to be the cause of the echoing sensation that persisted with this type of communication. Jemma opened her eyes again as Jill shuffled into the room.

“Hey, Jemma,” said Jill, her lips unmoving, the echo less pronounced now that Jemma’s eyes were open. “Mom said you were coming over.”

“She told me you could talk without moving your mouth, too.” Jemma couldn’t decide whether it felt more normal or less normal to be able to hear this version of a voice without seeing a mouth move. “Neat trick.”

“Isn’t hard. Kinda hard to explain, though, I guess.” Jill looked at her parents, who seemed to have ventured off into their own private conversation. “I mean, I thought I explained it okay. Did Mom tell you anything about it?”

Jemma shook her head, and Jill took a seat on the recliner.

“Okay, so, you can’t just think about what you want to say like you’re thinking to yourself. It isn’t like mind reading. You have to actually think the words, like…” She trailed off, frowning for a few seconds, after which her face brightened. “Okay, so, like if you’re thinking about what to write to someone, just trying to come up with what to say, that’s not gonna work, won’t talk to anyone, right? But when you’re actually typing, do you ever say the words out loud in your head?”

The explanation clicked, and Jemma tried narrating a sentence to her sister without trying to speak aloud. “You mean like this?”

Jill nodded enthusiastically, treating her sister to a smile. “So how do we explain that to Mom and Dad?”

Jemma looked at her parents, then back at her sister. “I can try later, but I think they like pretending everything is back to normal as much as they can. It’s a little less normal, talking this way.” It felt more natural, though, Jemma thought, the echo without the moving lips, as if this could, in fact, be a normal thing. She wasn’t sure whether it would feel that way for others, though. “Have you tried talking to any of your friends yet?”

Jill shook her head. “You know they all live like forever from here since the high school is so far. Their parents are holding them hostage so they can tell them to do their homework or whatever it is parents miss telling their kids.”

Raising an eyebrow at her sister, Jemma felt her lips pull upward on one side. “That’s all parents do, huh?”

“You know I was kidding.” Jill rolled her eyes. “Anyway, it looks like some people who aren’t related can talk, but mostly it’s just people who are related or have been together forever. Jennifer can’t talk to Roger, and she’s all upset about it ‘cause they’ve been going steady for like a week now. I think--”

Carolyn turned and started talking while Jill was still communicating, and the voices combined to make a loud echo, almost a screeching feedback. Jemma clutched at her head, and Jill did the same. It got quiet quickly, and Jemma winced in her mother’s direction.

Her mother looked apologetic. “That’s what I forgot to tell you. Talking to two people at once is fine, but only if it’s outgoing. Don’t try talking when somebody else is talking to you, and hope two people don’t try to talk to you at the same time. It’s not very pleasant.” She looked at Jill. “It’s also a good reason to give a visual cue that you’re speaking to someone.”

Jill seemed to recover more quickly than Jemma, and Jemma wondered whether that was from age, personality, or exposure to the effect. It helped to think that might get easier to deal with; she didn’t expect it to be terribly infrequent an occurrence at her family’s home. She was still rubbing her forehead when her mother spoke again.

“Stay for supper, Jemma? I made extras.” She looked at her older daughter, a smile on her face, eyes open and clear.

“Sure, Mom,” Jemma answered, pulling her hand from her face. “I appreciate that.”

The night passed quickly, jovially, with just two more occurrences of the telepathic backlash, each of which was, indeed, easier to deal with than the one before.

CHAPTER EIGHT:

Changes

Telepathy Troubles

By now, most have adjusted, at least in theory, to the ability to use mild telepathy.

We’ve been able to confirm several facts about this ability:

•
It works about as far as speaking in a low voice.

•
It works between people with a strong emotional connection.

•
It doesn’t function with people who are not close both physically and emotionally. A couple having a fight will likely still be able to hear each other; a couple with differences impossible to overcome might not.

•
Scientists have firmly identified the telepathy as using the part of the brain that typically deals with images.

•
The same scientists have firmly stated that this is impossible.

There are still several things we don’t know:

•
Where did this ability come from? We have no more information on this than we do about the loss of voice.

•
What causes the feedback when more than one person is speaking? Experts theorize this is because that part of the brain isn’t meant to handle speech and can’t translate more than one thing at a time.

•
Is this, both lack of voice and presence of telepathic communication, permanent?

•
Why do some people seem to have a slightly better range than others?

—Katie Brink, Staff Writer

It had been a little over a week since the world had changed, again. This week passed slowly. The library was nearly deserted again, even most of the regular patrons absent. She had gotten used to seeing Jack daily, but he hadn’t been in, either, and she found herself wondering who he might be choosing to spend time with. They hadn’t really gotten any more personal than talking about jobs, but she’d never seen him here with anyone, hadn’t heard him refer to anyone who might be close enough for telepathy.

Her phone buzzed. Jill had taken to texting her sister more regularly after she’d found herself unable to speak with even her closest friends, some of whom could speak to each other. It had made things hard on Jill, who seemed to feel like her world was only now really, actually changing. She’d gone from being surrounded by friends to feeling a little like an outcast, and she’d turned to her alone-but-not-lonely sister.

The teacher is annoyed with us. She can tell some of the kids are Talking, but she can’t prove it. It’s kinda funny, actually. She keeps staring at Jennifer like she can see into her mind.

So you’re taking the time to text? ;)
, Jemma wrote.

Yeah, actually. We’re just reviewing for the test, and I already know all this. She’s watching them so close that she isn’t even noticing all the kids who have their phones out. Is work still slow?

Yep. Between the slow morning and my lunch break, I’ve read two books. I even opened back up early after eating. Everyone wants to stay home,
she typed.

So much easier to talk at home. For most people, at least. Did I tell you about Lacey? She can’t Talk to either of her parents. She’s been avoiding them.

That must be hard
, wrote Jemma, remembering her own fears. Hearing the door open, she sent another message.
Someone’s here. Gotta go work.

She had just finished shoving her phone back in her pocket when the new arrival came into sight, a female regular who usually had a smile on her face. Today, the woman looked drained, waving tiredly before heading over to the fiction section. She came to the desk a few minutes later with a stack of romance novels, placing them on the counter and putting her library card on top. The woman forced a smile at Jemma and reached for the tablet.

“How are you doing today?” she asked with LeVar Burton’s voice.

“I’m well enough.” Jemma hesitated, then finished typing and went back to checking out the books. “How are you?”

“I’ve been better.” The woman watched Jemma a moment, indecision written on her face. “Trouble at home. My boyfriend and I haven’t been able to speak.”

Jemma finished checking out the books and set them aside. “Busy?”

The woman, Mariah, shook her head. “We can’t Talk. Telepathically, you know. Found out he’s been cheating on me when he could Talk to my best friend, but not me.” Her eyes were teary, and Jemma shifted and winced sympathetically. “We live together, and neither of us has anywhere to go. I would have gone to my friend’s, but that’s not happening now. And we can’t even work through it, can’t talk about it, because we can’t hear each other. And it makes it so very hard to forget.” Mariah sniffed, silently, tears falling, and Jemma rummaged under the counter for the box of tissues she knew were stashed there. The woman managed a smile as she accepted the box, quickly wiping her face and trying to recover. “So I thought,” she continued when her hands were free to type again, “maybe I’d get some books that would let me pretend everything was still okay.”