Connexion : The Atlantis Project, Book.1 (17 page)

Now Charlie understood that he controlled
very little. Without the help of Victor, whose intelligence was
obviously far superior to his own, he had no chance of pulling
through. He was aware that this world he found himself in, in spite
of appearances, was not a film or a virtual universe that could be
visited without ramifications. This virtual existence was causing
constant modifications to his mental and physiological state that
were as imperceptible as they were inevitable. However things
turned out, he would not come out of this experience unscathed.
Convergence was already taking place; a slow but relentless
progression which was going to profoundly change his whole
being.

“Isn’t it too late, Victor?” he asked.

“As long as we manage to counter the effects
of convergence we will not completely lose our identities.”

“So all I was told about the previous
candidates was not true? They all suffered the consequences of this
convergence!”

“No, Charlie. As I told you, they never
really penetrated my mind. I made sure they remained trapped in
their own thoughts. With you, it’s different. In agreeing to open
the door of my mind to you, I knew that there was a risk, but one I
had to take. Now it’s time for you to go further in this memory.
There are still things I would like to share with you. Observe
everything you see carefully and be especially attentive to signs
of convergence.”

“What can I do if it happens again?”

“Try to avoid putting yourself at risk.
Otherwise, becoming aware of it seems to be enough to keep
convergence at an acceptable level. When it goes unnoticed it can
affect us subconsciously. Then it may gradually take over our
wills, without us even realizing it. I think that our brains are
ultimately seeking to converge into one single mind; making us one.
Like every living organism, the brain is constantly seeking
equilibrium. Homeostasis is a fundamental law of the universe. It
not only applies to living beings; it is also applicable to every
system that exists. Your friend Francisco knows that very well.
Working in cybernetics, he cannot ignore that rule.”

“How do you know?”

“Charlie, I have access to all of your
memories and a certain number of your conscious thoughts, too.
Let’s just say that everything you know, I know too.”

Victor looked away, once again totally
absorbed by the contents of the graphic tablet, completely ignoring
Charlie.

A little hesitantly, he tried calling his
name. He wanted to make sure he was dealing with Senec again and no
longer Victor.

“Victor!” he called, without daring to raise
his voice at first, but nothing happened.

He summoned all his courage and this time
shouted his name as loudly as he could.

“VICTOR!!!”

For a split second, Senec glanced toward the
door. Had he heard something? Possibly, but he obviously did not
imagine for a second that it could be coming from the cell where he
was. Charlie was both relieved and conscious that the risk of
convergence was still very present, and threatened to surface at
any moment, when he was least expecting it.

He got up, leaving the cold, damp floor where
he had been sitting for quite some time, and stood behind Senec.
Carefully examining his reading material, he came to the conclusion
that he still understood nothing at all. However, he thought, if
Victor was capable of interfering in this memory by temporarily
taking on Senec’s appearance, he could quite easily have translated
this text for him, as he had done in the previous memory – unless
he had never read it! In that case, it would be impossible for him
to translate it. That must be why he had come to tell him he had
nothing more to do here. It seemed the most plausible explanation,
but Charlie was not completely happy with it. He could not say why,
but something kept him from leaving the room. It was probably
nothing more than intuition, but in the context of the connection,
what exactly was intuition anyway? After all, if Victor could read
his memories and most of his thoughts, why would it not be the same
for him? Could what he perceived as intuition actually be a
consequence of convergence; the memories and knowledge of one of
them merging with those of the other, without the process being
clearly perceptible to the mind?

Charlie was well aware that the intellectual
capacity of his host was incomparably superior to his own, but he
also knew that Victor had deliberately sought out his help.
Therefore, he would not succeed through blindly following the path
marked out for him by Victor. He realized that as time went on he
was gaining more confidence in himself. Somehow he was adapting to
his environment.

Charlie had a strange feeling. He felt as
though his mind was becoming sharper and sharper. It was as if he
could perceive very quickly and clearly what he should think or do.
It was a combination of intuition and discernment, but more than
that; something was changing in the depths of his psyche. It was an
insidious, unfathomable change, working in the shadows; a change
whose consequences Victor himself could not fully measure.
Convergence had probably been at work since the beginning of the
connection and no one knew yet just where it would lead.

23 CONSCIOUSNESS

Senec was perfectly still, his fingers poised
over the graphic tablet. Everything in the room was immobile,
except Charlie. Not a sound, not the slightest noise, interrupted
what now resembled a photograph. Worried at first, he tentatively
put a hand on Senec’s shoulder. He did not move a muscle. It was as
if he had turned into a statue, so that Charlie could touch him and
feel the material that covered his skin. It was a strange,
oppressive sensation that would have paralyzed anyone else with
anxiety, but Charlie knew just what he needed to do. He moved
Senec’s massive, heavy body and placed it carefully on the floor;
then he took his place on the hover-seat and picked up the graphic
tablet.

The writing he saw, resembling diagrams, was
now clear and perfectly comprehensible to him. Unlike his previous
experience, he was aware that he was interpreting the symbols and
markings that were foreign to him. This time, it was obvious to
Charlie that the translation was not Victor’s work. If it had been
so, he would have had direct access to the text in his own
language. However, he was now capable of deciphering the N.H.I.’s
writing system for himself. This realization increased the feeling
of power and freedom he already had even more; but his elation was
short-lived. The page was static. It was impossible to scroll
through the contents of the graphic tablet. Nothing he tried had
the least effect on it. Obviously, there was nothing in Victor’s
brain that was likely to give him further information about the
contents of the tablet. He would have to look elsewhere, but
where?

Charlie searched every corner of the room for
something that would satisfy his curiosity. He could not accept
that he had made an error in trusting his intuition. So, somehow he
was momentarily free of Victor’s hold on him, but to what end? It
seemed that his memories were no longer just a huge library of
inanimate data. He was in a lifeless snapshot from which it would
probably be extremely difficult to extract any pertinent
information. Finding nothing, Charlie headed for the metal door
which was supposed to prevent anyone from leaving or entering the
cell without authorization. He took hold of the handle and exerted
slight downward pressure. The heavy door opened without the
slightest noise. Not a squeak or creak broke the silence. As the
door swung open, a blinding white light filled the room. Although
he could not see its walls, Charlie expected to be in the long
light-filled corridor he had walked down a few hours earlier.

He stepped confidently through the doorway,
but his foot never reached the floor, causing him to fall head over
heels. Soon all visual cues began to disappear, including the
heavy, gray door, which shrank rapidly into the distance as he fell
further and further into the depths of Victor’s mind. After the
first few seconds, marked by the sensation of being yanked
downwards, Charlie could no longer feel anything. All was light;
and there was no sound or physical sensation to give him any sense
of his bearings. He now seemed to be floating weightlessly in a
void, bathed in light. He felt good, surprisingly good. No anxiety,
not an ounce of apprehension, came to bother him. He closed his
eyes and let himself fall into what he felt to be a well-earned
sleep. Why struggle, when there was no longer any tangible reality
to hold onto?

“
Charlie! Are you there?”

A soft, familiar voice resonated in his ear.
He would have liked to open his eyes and answer, but his willpower
did not go beyond the stage of consciousness. He tried in vain to
get his eyelids to open, but nothing happened. Charlie had already
experienced this feeling some mornings when his sleep was so heavy
that he could not stretch his arm out to turn the alarm off. It was
as if the time between the moment when his brain sent the message
to his muscles and the moment when his hand reacted had grown
infinitely longer than usual.

This time, nothing at all happened. The voice
was repeating the same thing incessantly, at regular intervals but
he was unable to reply or move even a muscle.

“
Charlie! Are you there?”

“
Charlie! Are you there?”

“
Charlie! Are you there?”

“
Charlie! Are you there?”

“
Charlie! Are you there?”

Anxiety began to manifest itself in a barely
perceptible way. Charlie was swimming in a feeling of bliss and
well-being that enveloped his whole mind and body. It was as if the
rest of his physical sensations were muted by this prevailing
state.

He did seem to feel a slight tingling in his
left earlobe, though. He focused exclusively on this barely
perceptible feeling, remembering the relaxation classes he had
attended several times with Jacques. The classes had been held
inside the hospital and had brought Charlie much relief while
learning to overcome the severe panic attacks that had nearly
pushed him to take his life.

Thankfully, Jacques was there. Taking his
life would have meant accepting the idea of killing his own brother
– an unconscionable thing, which had forced him to begin therapy –
but it had been a close call. He had refused to leave the
apartment, even to take out the trash. He was incapable of finding
a logical explanation for his behavior but he could not help it; as
soon as he stepped outside, he was overcome by panic. Shaking like
a leaf, his heart would beat at top speed and he was sure he would
die if he did not go back inside immediately. The psychiatrists had
diagnosed it as panic attacks with agoraphobia; a relatively common
condition which can be treated successfully but which can sometimes
lead to severe depression if not dealt with correctly. They invited
him to begin therapy with a psychologist specialized in this type
of disorder and gave him a medical treatment combining
antidepressants and tranquilizers which brought him rapid
relief.

While it was true that his brother was often
temperamental and not easy to live with, Charlie had to admit that
he had made life difficult for Jacques on several occasions, and
especially during that period. Jacques had really helped him to get
out of that impasse, going as far as accepting what should have
been unacceptable. Perhaps he had even gone a little too far. In
retrospect, Charlie thought that it would have been better if
Jacques had not made so many allowances for him. It would have
forced him to confront his fears earlier rather than wallowing in
negative monologues whose only goal was to rationalize behavior
that was as irrational as it was pathetic. In short, he was truly
grateful to him and that episode, although painful, had brought
them much closer.

After that, their relationship had been more
harmonious. They had learned a lot from Andrea, the psychologist.
She had listened to each of them individually. Paradoxically, that
had helped them to make the necessary compromises for keeping the
peace in the odd couple they formed through no choice of their own.
It was at that time that they had learned the art if relaxation. It
was a completely new thing for them and they had not found it easy.
Charlie, who was anxious by nature, would constantly try to control
everything, which prevented him from going with the flow; and
Jacques, who was typically hyperactive, could not bear the mere
idea of lying down doing nothing for longer than a few seconds.
Suffice it to say that their first attempts had been rather
farcical, but in the end Andrea’s gentle voice had overcome their
resistance and they had learned to become conscious of their
physical body through concentrating exclusively on their internal
feelings. It had been a rewarding experience which Charlie was now
trying to reproduce in this immaterial place. Maybe he would manage
to get back in touch with his own body?

The voice continued to call him, always in
the same tone and with the same regularity.

“
Charlie! Are you there?”

His earlobe was still tingling. As he
concentrated on that small part of his body, he felt a kind of heat
invade that specific area, and the tingling intensified until it
suddenly became painful. In a swift, precise movement, he turned
his head to the left, opened his eyes at last and found himself
face to face with a little white mouse, who was staring at him
intently. Its inky black eyes inspired confidence. It did not seem
at all afraid. On the contrary, it lay impassively on the floor
with its front paws crossed, which lent a nonchalant air to its
posture. The blood that was dripping steadily from Charlie’s ear
had formed a little puddle. Its bright red color contrasted sharply
with the intense, uniform, white light that surrounded them both.
It was obviously the mouse that had been nibbling on his ear for
hours until he finally woke up. He simply stared at it for a
moment, without saying anything.