The Virus (31 page)

He tried again to think of
the happenings of yesterday, but that was a dead end. He had
already scoured as much from his Cristal affected brain as it was
willing to give. He would do himself no further good beating
himself up for clues. He rubbed his temples again. Obviously, the
staff were making their rounds because though he saw no one and
heard no footsteps, a virtual cacophony of voices filled his mind.
As he listened more acutely, he noticed that it was not one or two
voices that he was hearing, but rather like a small army of people
were all talking at once. The sounds in Geoffrey’s head didn’t have
the confusion of a bunch of people all talking at once, but rather
it had a certain ebb and flow to it. It was a decidedly erratic ebb
and flow, but an ebb and flow nonetheless. It took Geoffrey a few
moments to realize that he was hearing not only the nearest
occupants of the underground facility, as was usually the case, but
rather he was hearing the cumulative thoughts of the
entire
facility, perhaps
the entire complex, though it was too early to assume.

Obviously, being allowed
out into the open world, if only for a matter of hours, had had a
profound effect on the evolution of Geoffrey’s abilities. He didn’t
know if it was the break from the crippling confinement, or the
respite from the ever-present Cleaning Lights, but whatever it was,
it had enhanced his extrasensory perception considerably. He
fancied that along with foreign thoughts, he was now beginning to
receive foreign
feelings
as well. He rubbed his temples yet again, but the
sides of his skull protested at the repeated pressure. With a long
sigh, he slumped over and tried to figure out his next move. One
thing was for certain, he needed to see Delilah and figure out what
had taken place the night before. Though he thankfully lacked the
migraine and nausea of the expected hangover, he still retained
some of the other less savory side effects, like dry mouth and
general fatigue. He smacked his lips, as if that alone could return
some moisture to his partially dehydrated tongue, and moved his
head and arms around to try to work some of the uncomfortable
stiffness out of his joints. After he finished and could think of
nothing else to do, he returned to his slumped position until an
idea finally came to him…

He stood up and lifted his
hands as if to press them to his temples again, but instead, let
them drop heavily back to his sides. He shut his eyes tightly, and
concentrated. Dr. Crangler had been looking on this entire time
from one of the monitors in one of his smaller offices, so he could
see clearly everything that was going on. What he couldn’t see,
however—because he distinctly
heard
it—was Geoffrey’s voice, booming into his head.
The startled doctor gripped his head with his hands, just as he did
the first time Geoffrey had spoken into his brain like this.
Besides Geoffrey’s voice being way too loud in his head, there was
a new fortitude, a new dimension…a new
power
to Geoffrey’s telepathy that
was currently overwhelming the doctor in a way that, even though he
was nominally used to Geoffrey’s abilities, his brain couldn’t
tolerate it.

“Stop it!” he screamed. He
sounded more like a helpless child than he would’ve liked. “Stop
it, Geoffrey!” and immediately Geoffrey withdrew. The doctor
blinked his eyes and rubbed his temples until they, too, were sore
in an attempt to regather his wits. As soon as his breathing and
heart rate returned to normal, he hastily left his office and
headed to Geoffrey’s room. He nearly tripped over his own feet as
he turned the many facility halls in his rush. Once he finally made
it into Geoffrey’s room, there was a noticeably discombobulated
look about him. He was had shaved and combed his hair but his eyes
were wide and his hands were trembling. “What the hell is the
matter!” he demanded. Geoffrey’s eyes were wide now. He was
surprised by the doctor’s outburst.

“I’m terribly sorry, Dr.
Crangler. Really, I’m terribly sorry…” Geoffrey began,
understanding his recently elevated abilities had worked, but had
had a very undesirable side effect. “Really…I’m…”

“Yes, Geoffrey, I
understand you’re terribly sorry, but, again, what the hell is the
problem?” Dr. Crangler asked.

“Well, I wanted to know
what happened last night. Obviously, something…
different
happened to
me.”

“I don’t
understand, Geoffrey.” Dr. Crangler answered, now almost completely
back to his normal self. “What
happened
was what you asked for.
Delilah and you were escorted off the premises for the day so you
could implement the plan you presented to me.”

“Yeah, well, I guess I’d
like to know how that went then, because I don’t remember much of
it. But also, my telepathy, it’s seems to have gotten stronger,
somehow. I’m…” Dr. Crangler stopped his patient midsentence with an
emphatic shaking of his head, and a nearly imperceptible gesture
toward the room’s hidden camera. Geoffrey grimaced that he
understood and was instantly sorry to have made such a foolish
slip. He would’ve likely assured Dr. Crangler that he was ‘terribly
sorry’ again, except that the doctor spoke this time.

“It would probably be best
if…” the doctor said, finishing with another nearly unnoticeably
gesture toward his head. Geoffrey understood, but hesitated to give
a moment for the doctor to prepare himself first. After this latest
incident, Dr. Crangler was clearly not ready for more of Geoffrey’s
soundless communication, but he wouldn’t have suggested it just now
except that it was the only way for his superiors to not catch wind
of the phenomenal developments that were taking place in one of his
star patients. After the brief interval passed, Geoffrey and the
doctor commenced with the telepathic conversation. Had Dr.
Crangler’s panel of superiors being observing—which they most
definitely were—they would’ve been given no indication that an
exchange was continuing to take place, except for a grunt, an
answering nod, or something of the sort, that would accompany a
normal conversation. Other than that, no words were
spoken.

Dr. Crangler was the first
to begin.
Before we start with this
mindspeech,
he advised sternly,
nevertheless smiling to himself at the completely new word he had
just coined,
please turn down the volume,
because obviously you’re right. Something did happen to you out
there, because it’s more unbearable to endure your telepathy now
than it was when we first started. Now, I’d like to think I’d grown
rather used to this whole experience, but back there in my office,
well, that was just too much
. Dr. Crangler
waited for an unspoken response, but none followed. The silence
lasted so long, that he was about to open his mouth and ask if
something was wrong. Just before he could, though, Geoffrey spoke
into his brain in something akin to a mental whisper.

Is this any better?
Geoffrey asked tentatively. As Dr. Crangler well
knew from his experience with Geoffrey’s special gift, mental
conversation was nothing like its physical counterpart. Though
‘voices in one’s head’ could potentially drive a person insane
(though, many would argue that to have ‘voices in one’s head’ would
indicate insanity in the first place), thoughts alone could never
be loud enough to literally deafen someone physically. He could
scream as loudly as humanly possible in another’s head and his
physical person would never be affected. So, though Geoffrey was
taking great pains to lessen the volume of his telepathic voice, it
did no good. It wasn’t the ‘volume’ of Geoffrey’s soundless voice
that was the problem, it was the increased presence, the sudden
elevation in power of that internal voice.

No, it isn’t
Geoffrey.
Dr. Crangler answered truthfully
as he forced himself to resist the impulse to clap his hands over
his ears. Another lengthy silence followed, longer than the first,
but the doctor made no attempt to break this quiet, as it was clear
that Geoffrey was musing on something, perhaps some way to mute
things back down so he and the doctor could engage in wordless
communication as before. By the look on his face, he almost had the
answer. Finally, revelation broke upon Geoffrey’s face. He put up a
finger in intimation that the doctor should wait while he tried
something. He laced his hands together at the fingers and twiddled
his thumbs around and around each other like someone in deep
thought, and shortly afterward Dr. Crangler heard Geoffrey’s voice
inside his head. This time, something of the static from their
initial trials, though relatively faint, had returned, and
Geoffrey’s mental voice, though still slightly louder than normal,
was much more bearable.

Is this better?
Geoffrey asked, twiddling this thumbs faster than
ever.

Actually
, the doctor took a moment to respond,
it is.
As soon as he had heard the
very first indication of foreign sound in his head, he had squeezed
his eyes tightly shut in anticipation. He now cautiously opened
them.
Now, we may continue.
His relief was evident even in his mental
voice.

Good, good.
Geoffrey answered soundlessly, still twiddling
his thumbs furiously.

But, before we go on, what
did you do…how did you tone it down?
Dr.
Crangler asked, seeing Geoffrey’s hand movements, but paying them
little mind.

This.
Answered Geoffrey, calling attention his hands.

Dr. Crangler’s mind said
nothing, but his face clearly asked the question.

This.
Geoffrey repeated.
I had an idea.
You see, being here in this room all day and night with virtually
no interaction is terrible for a person’s mind…unless he has
something to concentrate on. So, that’s what I did. You just don’t
know, Dr. Crangler…actually, that’s foolish. Of course you know…how
many endless hours I’ve sat here doing nothing but concentrating,
trying to discover if it was possible to hone my abilities.
Dr. Crangler remembered seeing his patient bent
over for many hours, rubbing his temples, as if he was indeed in
intense concentration. He suddenly wished he had come and given his
patient something else with which to focus his attention, but what
was done was done.
Well, it was. And I
did, but nothing like whatever happened to me yesterday. Well,
anyway, I could hear other people’s thoughts more clearly and, so I
assumed, from greater distances. Well, the idea came to my mind
that maybe I could reverse that somehow. See, I thought that if I
did something else, something a little distracting, I couldn’t
focus solely on mindspeech
. Geoffrey
smiled,
with you. If focusing my
concentration honed my telepathy, then distracting myself should
dull it, at least enough so we can talk. And what’s more
distracting than twiddling thumbs? I wasn’t sure it would work, but
obviously it has.

Dr. Crangler began rubbing
his temples as he continued to stare at Geoffrey. Not only had
Geoffrey’s vocabulary benefited greatly from this unmappable
expansion, but apparently, his problem solving capabilities were
evolving as well. Given enough time, who knows what Geoffrey could
be capable of? At any rate, Dr. Crangler admitted to himself that
he probably wouldn’t have thought of such a simple and therefore
ingenious way to handle the problem. The doctor had to resist the
urge to exclaim, “Brilliant! but he stifled it as best he could.
So, his only response was, “As you say, there we have it, so let’s
move on.”

If Geoffrey noticed Dr.
Crangler’s momentary angst, he didn’t show it on his face or in his
reply.
Right, good idea, Doctor.
He returned
Well, I have
a few questions. I guess the most important one would be, ‘What
happened last night?’ I remember most of the day, but after the
champagne bottles…well, I don’t remember much after that. Speaking
of which, did you arrange that?

I did.
Dr. Crangler answered simply.

Well, thank you very
much…so what happened?

The doctor’s right eyebrow
rose tenuously, then his lips curled into a faint smile that
remained for some time.
So,
resumed Geoffrey,
what
happened. Did we…you know?

Not in the mirror truck,
no.
Dr. Crangler finally answered,
But from what I understand, you two certainly
would have. From the information in Lieutenant Dan’s report,
Delilah was literally coming out of her clothes and throwing
herself at you about midway through the third bottle of
champagne.

So, there was a third
bottle.
Geoffrey thought to himself, but
said nothing to the doctor.

And he specified that the
two of you would’ve certainly…commenced, right there on the mirror
truck floor for everyone to see if both of you didn’t need to use
the bathroom very badly.

Use the
bathroom?

Completely consuming three
bottles of expensive champagne can have that kind of effect on a
body.

Geoffrey nodded. Then,
after a moment, he returned to the conversation at hand, but now
seemed to be studying his twiddling thumbs more acutely. Even at
this angle, Dr. Crangler could see that his face had fallen
some.
So…my plan failed, things didn’t
work out.
It was more a sullen statement
than a question.