The Elders (29 page)

“Right.” Daleb’s synapses shine a little brighter as I perceive his thought in my mind. “The Enlightened must’ve been his target all along.”

“But why?” I let my Level 2 vision move from the giant network that is Mimir to the smaller one that is Daleb. “He works for the Elders. He’s an Ambassador. He should want what
they want. I’m pretty sure they weren’t lying to me about wanting peace. Frederick especially.”

“You’re right.” Daleb’s thoughts are surprisingly serious now. “I don’t think the Elders ordered this. George is clearly acting on his own. As to why, that’s something I’m wondering too. Maybe my brainier brother has a clue?”

“I don’t have a lot.” Mimir’s mini-universe is on fire now. I’m not used
to seeing him so bright in front of me. “If I did, I would’ve known George was our man, and I would’ve warned Darren when he was in Frederick’s Nirvana. However, I can venture a guess as to his motivations. Mary, a woman who hates Guides, raised him. He’s a fairly traditional man, someone who places emphasis on family values. That and his close association with Hillary’s parents link him to the Traditionalists.”

“Family values, my foot,” I think and wonder whether my neurons are also red with anger. “He’s a hypocrite. I’m his family, and he wants to kill me.”

“He probably sees it as a necessary evil,” Mimir replies.

 
“There’s another clue.” Daleb’s thought feels almost excited. “Caleb thought George was acting like the leader of Kate’s team. He’s insightful when he wants to be, that Caleb, and in this
case, he was right. George
is
in charge. He’s using his fellow Guides as puppets.”

“Now that I think about it, other little things are also falling into place,” I think, again half for me, half for them. “Like the way his eyes lit up when I mentioned the Enlightened.”

“Mentioning them probably saved your life,” Mimir adds. “Otherwise, he might’ve had Hillary stab you in the back or would’ve
done it himself in her parents’ house.”

“My life was saved at the cost of so many others.” I finally figure out what’s really been bothering me and think, “He
used
me.”

“He did use you, but now it’s backfiring.” Daleb’s thought is not as soothing as Mimir’s, but he’s clearly trying. “Him using you made sure he brought you here, and now you’re undoing the damage he’s created. All the death that’s
happened is on his head, not yours.”

“I should’ve seen it, somehow.” I mentally lash myself. “He had a black kimono on, before he took me to see Mary.”

“So did the majority of the guests on the Island,” Mimir points out.

“He was surprised when he saw me for the first time,” I counter.

“It could’ve just as easily been Hillary who surprised him,” Daleb retorts.

“My boss, Bill, mentioned that
George was the Ambassador from New Jersey,” I think more calmly this time. “That puts him near enough to New York, near enough to have been pulling Kyle’s strings. And speaking of Kyle, George was probably at the fucker's funeral—that would explain why Anne was upset he was leaving so soon. He must've arrived just before us with his private plane.”

“He did something that threw you off—something
that threw us all off,” Mimir thinks with a hint of something like shame. “He taught you how to Teleport.”

“Yes,” I realize. “The bastard even openly admitted that he was teaching me so I would trust him.”

“It was pretty clever,” Daleb thinks. “He thought you wouldn’t survive long enough to master the skill, but teaching it to you made you trust him.”

“Except, ironically, it’s thanks to that
skill that I’m alive,” I think. “When I saw the flare, I phased in and randomly ended up a few feet away from the cops with a good view of what they’d been Guided to do. There was a very good chance they would’ve shot me in the back had George not taught me how to Teleport.”

“And he underestimated you in general,” Mimir adds. “It’s a mistake many have lived to regret.”

“Yeah, he shouldn’t have
attacked you personally on the Island,” Daleb agrees. “He was overconfident, where someone wiser would’ve Guided Kate to assassinate you.”

“Maybe he was afraid to do something like that in front of the Elders?” I counter. “Also, once he was pulled in by Fred, he wouldn’t have been able to Guide anyone. Can’t get to Level 2 from someone else’s Quiet. What I really want to know is: why did he attack
me at all?”

“It’s not like his attack would’ve killed you. It would’ve just made you Inert. When Martin and his people forbade you to make anyone on the Island Inert, they wouldn’t have cared if you yourself became Inert. George probably only brought you to the Island to earn your trust, so that you in turn would bring him to the Temple,” Mimir suggests. “He didn’t actually want you to talk to
the Elders. If anything, he was probably worried you’d tell the Elders about the Super Pusher. They might’ve taken that information very seriously.”

“I thought one of the Elders
was
the Super Pusher,” I think defensively.

“And that was reasonable,” Mimir responds, “but George didn’t know that was your theory, or maybe he thought you might blab regardless.”

“So he brought me to the Island and
then tried to make me Inert, but to what end?”

“Probably so he could offer you help,” Daleb projects. “Being Inert would’ve made you more open to accepting his help. He would’ve suggested a rescue team of his own, with people already loyal to him. When making you Inert didn’t work, his plan needed only a slight readjustment, given that it was Frederick who provided you with a team. Since George
was able to Guide them, he still almost got what he was after.”

I process all that for a moment, and then think, “Something else just occurred to me. Hillary suspected that George might become an Elder. She all but told me he was as powerful as one of them. I just didn’t fully—”

“I hate to interrupt this dialogue, especially given how cathartic it is for you, Darren,” Mimir interjects, “but
you might run out of Depth at any moment, and we still have an important task for you to do. As Daleb pointed out, George almost got what he was after, and you need to make sure he doesn’t.”

“Okay, so how do I avoid pulling George in?” I think, refocusing my attention on the present.

“No idea,” Daleb replies.

“Me neither,” Mimir echoes.

“And if I do pull him in?”

“He’ll attack, and you’ll
likely end up Inert.” Mimir’s thought is tinged with sorrow. “And I know you’re about to ask if we can help, but we can’t.”

“And let’s not forget that you going Inert will lead to the monks dying, and Mira and Thomas remaining in danger,” Daleb adds.

“Why can’t you help?” I wonder.

“We do not want the Elders to know of our existence,” Mimir explains. “And we have a moral code that strictly
forbids us from interfering with a mind, even George’s. You wouldn’t understand.”

“Or approve,” I think, projecting my grudge as best as I can through my thoughts. “Fine, you don’t want to mess with minds. I can sort of understand that. But what about this secrecy? You mentioned it on the Island, which, I may add, caused me a lot of confusion. What you never explained is why? Why can’t the Elders
know about you?”

“Why don’t Readers and Guides let Unencumbered know about their existence?” Mimir asks. “Why did you hide your true Depth from your friends?”

“Fine,” I reply. I’m convinced there’s more to it than he’s suggesting, but I’m confident he’ll remind me that time is running out if I press.

“Time
is
running out, though.” Mimir’s mental voice sounds mischievous.

“Any last-minute suggestions?”

“Use your instincts,” Daleb thinks at the same time as Mimir projects, “Pick at random.”

I pick the brightest constellation of the bunch—the one closest to me—and teleport there effortlessly.

Both Mimir’s and Daleb’s lights disappear.

“Guys, wait,” I think, but no response comes.

They’re gone.

Fine
, I think pointedly.
I’ll manage without you.

With that, I reach for my intuitively, or randomly,
chosen victim.

* * *

The Leacher we’re tangled with is strong—strong enough to provide us with a rare challenge. Cutting through the battle rage is an unwelcome thrill of feminine awareness.

I, Darren, disassociate with disgust. I’m in the mind of Eleanor, who, despite the Super Pusher’s command to kill him, is lusting after Caleb. Without further ado, I start Guiding her:

The man you’re
fighting is not your enemy. You will say the words, “Caleb, Darren did it. I’m now on your side. Help me take down the man responsible for all this shit.” Then you will get up and apprehend George. That’s your primary goal. If you see James or Kate trying to hurt the monks, try and stop them. That’s your secondary goal.

And with that, I exit Eleanor’s head.

* * *

As the floating sensation
of Nirvana returns, I decide that perhaps my choice was more intuitive than lucky. Perhaps I have some idea, on a subconscious level, of who’s who. A more skeptical part of me reminds me that my chances of choosing correctly were three in four.

I pick the next pattern carefully, letting my intuition do its job, in case it’s actually working. I teleport to my choice and envelop it, ready to start
Reading, but nothing happens.

Then I notice a new pattern has shown up near me.

It’s a moving version of the pattern I just engaged.

If I had eyes, I would be blinking them to make sure he’s here for real, but I have to settle for the mental version of this, which consists of becoming more certain that there’s a live mind in front of me.

There’s only one reason for this happenstance.

My intuition
isn’t worth a damn.

I just pulled George in.

Before these thoughts finish running through my head, the collection of neurons that is my enemy gets uncomfortably close to me.

I’m not sure whether my perception of his pattern is colored by my anger and disgust with George, or by his own intentions, but for the first time, a mind in Level 2 looks positively repulsive to me.

Gone are the outer-space
visuals. Instead, there’s something about him that reminds me of creatures from the deep sea. His synapses, in particular, look slimy and unwholesome, like the stingers of some giant jellyfish that luminesces to lure in its prey.
His neurons similarly remind me of the lights on tips of dorsal spines of monstrous anglerfishes;
I can’t help but imagine rows of sharp teeth and ugly faces hiding behind
each speck of light.

And then, to my sheer mental horror, this abomination envelops me.

Chapter 26

I
instantly realize that George initiated Assimilation—the strange, empathetic mind meld that Frederick and I engaged in on the Island.

An avalanche of anxiety hits me, quickly evolving into a tornado of debilitating fear. It’s as if I received a shot of adrenaline directly into the fear center of my brain. Rationally, I know this is due to my fear combining with any trepidation
George is feeling, but that doesn’t make it better. Fear is never rational.

I try fighting it, but as soon as I regain some semblance of sanity, I feel a wave of emotion that I can best describe as rejection. It’s my negation of what George is trying to do to me, and his version of the same emotion. We both feel as if the sanctity of our minds is being violated. Describing the feeling is difficult.
All I can compare it to is pain, only it’s much worse. It makes the pain Caleb endured when he lost his hand feel like a scrape in comparison.

The usual sense of nonbeing I associate with Nirvana is gone. Instead, I again feel a strange sense of corporealness. As soon as it appears, it slips away, almost as if it’s being erased. This happened during my Assimilation with Frederick, only this is
a hundred times worse.

George has only one goal: he wants to complete this process of erasing me, the success of which would make me Inert.

I have to do something about it, I realize, and mentally push back.

An extremely unsavory sensation overcomes me. It feels as if I’m killing an innocent or vandalizing something beautiful.

I remind myself that George isn’t a unique and beautiful snowflake.
He’s the fucker who tried to choke me on the Island. With that mental reassurance, I push again.

The turbulent feeling intensifies. A fresh wave of fear arises from George, its intensity mixing with my own. I feel echoes of that ‘being erased’ feeling emanating from him, or maybe they’re my own; it’s hard to tell.

“Stop, Darren,” his vile thought tells me. “Please.”

Due to the Assimilation,
I know he really means it; he really wants me to stop.

Well, no shit. That just means that whatever I’m doing is working. Good. I push hard, capitalizing on my success.

The feeling of being erased increases, but I can tell it’s him who’s being affected and not me.

My discomfort from feeling as though I’m doing something horrible increases too. I fight it, trying to make my mind ruthless. I
remind myself how close Mira came to death before I reversed Thomas’s instructions. This revitalizes my resolve, and I try to crush the mind responsible for nearly killing her.

“Let’s make a deal, Darren,” George tries again. “I can’t lie right now. Can’t you tell that?”

I feel myself disappear, just a little, but getting erased even a little is worse than getting kicked in the face—and I’m
speaking from experience.

He’s distracting me with his words, trying to wiggle his way out. And the worst part is that, for a moment, it worked.

Well, two can play this game, I decide, and try to speak the way I did when I was dealing with Frederick. “Why are you doing this, George? Why are you trying to kill the Enlightened?”

As I await his reply, I gather my energy for my next mental attack.

“The Elders are fools to want to foster this peace,” he responds, but I sense he’s not actually being truthful with me.

“You’re lying,” I challenge, mostly to keep him off-balance. I don’t care that much about his explanation.