The Facilitator (8 page)

And, up until now, most departing patients seemed to prefer those last moments to be quiet, beautiful and shared by only two spirits…theirs and their facilitator’s. Martine figured the psych geeks were having themselves a field day writing unintelligible but profound papers on the tendency of humans to prefer such an ending to their lives.

For her part, it made things much simpler. She could concentrate on so many of the details that filled out the neural interface, and made her patient, the person on whom she was completely focused, feel wonderfully at home. And ready to say goodbye.

By the time she’d finished her snack and had returned to the patient’s room, she was ready for Johann and this new experiment. It could be interesting, challenging and unlike anything she’d done before. All good, all in the interests of a successful facilitation, and to be perfectly honest, she had no qualms about spending more time with Johann.

A win-win situation all around.

He came up behind her, rested a hand on her shoulder and squeezed. “You ready to try this?”

She nodded. “Absolutely.”

“Then let’s go.”

Martine couldn’t help gasping as her world shimmered into another, and she found herself standing in the middle of a large square surrounded by people.

“The Piazza San Marco, dear.” An elderly voice sounded from beside her, and she looked down to see a woman in a wheelchair smiling up at her.

“It’s so lovely. I can’t believe the architecture.” She gazed around her, trying to absorb the domes, the intricate carvings and the endless arches gracing the buildings around the piazza. And then there were the pigeons—and the
people
.

“Having a good time, Great-grandmother?” Johann was there, bending over the wheelchair solicitously.

“It’s wonderful, dear child. Just wonderful.” She reached out a thin hand to Martine. “And having you both here—well, it’s just what I’d hoped for.”

“I’m so glad. It’s a special moment for all of us.” She jumped and then laughed as a bird swooped surprisingly close to her hair. She tossed back a short sandy-brown curl and felt her skirts teased by the wind. It was hot, the sun shining down from a clear blue sky.

All the colors were sharp, the details perfect and the throngs of people astounding. Martine flashed Johann a quick glance and saw him watching her, smiling as she tried to take it all in.

“I knew you’d like this. I saw a video of it once. Never got here myself, but I never forgot those scenes.” Mrs. Alder sighed. “To be able to share it with you, to know you’ll grow up to be a lovely happy woman…well, there isn’t much more I can ask of this life.”

They stayed together, one on either side of Mrs. Alder’s wheelchair, just looking this way and that, soaking up the atmosphere, the air and the sounds of a city which would never look like this again in any of their lifetimes.

Finally, the old woman tipped her head back and closed her eyes, letting the sun pour over her in a warm cascade of light. “I think I’m ready now.”

Johann took her other hand and clasped it in his. “You will be missed, Great-grandmother.”

“Safe journey, dear Great-grandmother.” Martine knelt and lightly kissed the wrinkled cheek. She felt the characteristic sensation of energy beginning to flow gently through her neural interface and the fading of whatever it was that made a human being
human
.

But then, at the very instant she expected to shimmer back into the Eternal Tranquility room, everything stilled.

The people around them stopped, like a video paused by a massive remote control. Birds remained aloft, shadows froze beneath the buildings—silence fell on her like a blanket.

“What the…?”

“Ssh.” Johann took her hand and moved her away from the wheelchair. “I hoped this would happen.”

“What?” Martine stared at him. “What have you done?”

“Nothing, really.” He pulled her against him. “An experiment. Close your eyes and open your thoughts, your interface. Forget the routine here. Stay open—to me.”

Trusting him enough to do as he bid, Martine closed her eyes and focused on her interface, letting images of energy flowing through it enter her mind. She’d done this before, sought various strands of brilliance, but now she could feel as much as see a new ribbon beginning to twine through her neural channels. It was silvery blue, cool, fresh and in many ways familiar. It was him.

“That’s it, honey.” His arms tightened and then…then…

She was no longer Martine
.

Soaring high into a darkness that seemed endless, the energy that was Martine struggled to comprehend the impossible.

Beside her was Johann, or John as she knew his incorporeal self. There were no bodies, no limbs, no smiles or bald scalps. No distinction that these were male and female energies.

There were no words handy to describe where she was or who she was with. All these things, she just
knew
.

Just as she knew John was speaking to her.

“It’s working. Come with me.
Think your way beside me
.”

She obeyed, finding that a simple command to follow. The darkness became a tunnel, lights flickered and passed, colors flashed by, the sensation of motion very strong even though she had no substance to feel a breeze or eyes to blink at the brilliance.

Together they passed through a vortex and emerged into something that was not dissimilar to the data-storage system.

“We’re in some kind of cortex, aren’t we? The server cortex somewhere.”

“Yes.”
It was John’s voice, intertwined through her own energies. Separate beings, one presence. Mega weird.
“I need you to see something.”

Images began to flicker, not those of a video presentation but almost like memories half-glimpsed, incomplete and insubstantial. Until one froze in front of them and the being that had been Martine lost its breath.

It was Taber.

“Oh God.”
She absorbed the image of him.

Tall and proud in his uniform, Taber was a shining example of the best the world could offer to its fighting forces. His eyes were steady, his uniform impossibly perfect in every detail. It was the sort of image that parents proudly imprinted on the sides of their transportation vehicles and grandmothers had transferred to their quilts.

Then the image shifted—and once more it was Taber, this time laughing and drinking with his unit. Then another image, Taber in action, followed rapidly by Taber being debriefed and deployed elsewhere. There were quick flashes of conferences, people in dark suits, shadowed images of nighttime streets…it was as if his entire life history was being played out in this hidden cyberworld.

Then, suddenly, Martine was seeing herself and Taber’s last moments. The blood, her hands on him, the anguish on her face… Had she been able to, she would have sobbed. She remembered the agony she’d felt, she vividly recalled her helplessness to stop it, the only thing that prevented her from screaming silently in horror was the sensation of John in and around her consciousness.

The truth began to dawn, a realization that chilled whatever physical presence she had at that moment.

“He wasn’t sick, was he
?
”
Trembling words barely whispered.

“No
.
”
Serious, sober.
“No, he’d never been sick a day in his life.”

“I killed him
.
”
Flat, precise.

“Yes.”

“I didn’t know
.
”

“No you didn’t. You couldn’t. You were used, Martine. You were just a tool
.
”

She shivered, the gathering of energy around her becoming icy even as she mentally turned to John for comfort. He was there, encompassing her, shielding her as he guided them back into the vortex of light.
“Hold on
.
”

She felt a falling sensation and gasped aloud, seeing the Piazza San Marco flash past before they both shimmered back into Eternal Tranquility and the late Mrs. Alder’s room.

Slumping, Martine released the old woman’s cooling hand, tried to stand and swayed, catching herself on the end of the bed as her neural interface connections snapped sharply apart.

“Easy.” Johann was holding her with one hand and steadying himself with the other. “I should have known that a joint facilitation might make us both dizzy the first time.” His words sounded strange in her ears, but then she picked up his silent signal.
Say nothing
.

“You’re right.” She nodded and gripped him hard for a second or two, indicating her assent. “I need to get my balance back.”

The monitoring nurse rushed in, face full of concern. “Oh my. Are you two all right?” There were two techs right behind her.

“Yeah,” said Johann. “We’re good. A bit disoriented, but overall I’d say the joint experiment worked.” He glanced at the techs. “You should have enough data there to confirm. We got crowd completion and total immersion.”

Martine swallowed and added her mite. “It was pretty amazing. Seemed like hundreds of people to me, but it probably wasn’t. There was a shitload of birds, though. Much more detailed than usual and no ill effects until we returned. And I’m pretty much okay now. Just a quick stab of nausea. It’s gone already.” She straightened.

“Debriefing in fifteen minutes?” One of the techs stared at them eagerly.

“Sure,” Johann agreed.

“Yeah, that would be fine,” Martine concurred.

She lied. It was anything but fine. However, for right now she’d have to keep everything churning inside her from erupting. At least until she could get some private time with Johann.

And ask him the thousand and one questions fighting each other for supremacy in her mind.

Trouble was, she had a strong feeling she was going to seriously hate the answers.

Leaving Mrs. Alder to the tender ministrations of the Eternal Tranquility staff, Martine and Johann walked away together, on the surface looking like just another couple of facilitators who’d earned their pay for the day.

Martine found herself gripping Johann’s hand as they strolled. He squeezed back, but other than that there was silence between them.

There was nothing they could say at this point, when who knew what kind of surveillance they were under. Besides, she wasn’t sure she was ready to confront what she’d just learned about herself.

She was a killer. A murderer. She’d fought with Taber for his life force and she’d stripped it from him, pushing him into the beyond before his time. She’d done something that was so outrageous, so hideous, so
not
part of anything she was, that it was beyond her understanding.

As she turned the information over in her mind, guilt and horror faded, to be replaced by a dawning anger. A cold fury that crept inexorably over her until she was afraid she might be glowing with it.

Somebody had indeed turned her into a tool. A tool for killing.

And that, Martine knew, had to be stopped.

Now.

Chapter Seven

Sleep proved an elusive luxury for Martine as she lay in bed that night. She tossed and turned, closed her eyes, activated her white-noise generator—nothing calmed the turbulence of her thoughts.

Johann wouldn’t be there to hold her either. He’d let her know he’d been delayed in R&D, soothing the froth of excitement rippling through the department. It was only to be expected, since between the two of them they’d accomplished something that was unique on one hand, and could pave the way to even greater profits for Eternal Tranquility on the other.

Now ET could offer not just peaceful final moments, but exciting and fulfilling ones as well.
Be part of your favorite soccer team and spend your last seconds scoring a winning goal.

Stand in the center of New York City on New Year’s Eve with half a million of your closest friends and pass on at the stroke of midnight.

For only a slight increase in the fee, Eternal Tranquility could now send you off with the cheers of the masses ringing in your ears. The possibilities were pretty damn endless, and Marketing would probably have a field day with it. Which was a good thing since they didn’t seem to do much else but change the background color on the holo-ads in physician clinics and doctors’ offices.

Finally, with a vaguely comforting image of Piazza San Marco in her mind, Martine fell asleep.

And as soon as she did, John was there.

“Are you all right?” He took her elbow and steered her around a group of tourists as she blinked and realized they were back in Venice.

“Yes. No. I don’t know. You?”

“I’m fine. We don’t have much time.”

She pulled him to a halt beside an elegant archway. “Who’s behind it, John?”

He met her gaze then shrugged. “We’re not sure. Eternal Tranquility is the vehicle. The director has to know something, but we think he’s being well paid to turn the other way. Or at least not examine the cases too closely.”

She paused, for once ignoring their dream surroundings. “Shanxi.”

“Our best guess, yes.”

“
Our
?”

He nodded. “I can’t say it. Just think back. To where doors bar the way and shapes look like one thing but mean another.”

Beneath them, the flagstones of the piazza turned liquid and Martine knew this dream was fading. That John was worried about surveillance, as was she.
Fuck
.

“Remember, my love. Remember.”

And she woke, groggy and disoriented, turning on her pillow and trying to recapture John’s words.

Remember
.
Doors. Shapes
.

It came to her in a flash.
Theta
. The symbol on the massive door. What was Theta besides an ancient Greek symbol? Why was it important? And how the hell could she find out without alerting whatever security systems Eternal Tranquility had in place?

This time, sleep came naturally and immediately. And there were no dreams to mar her rest.

But the problem remained with her when she began her daily routine the next morning and constantly defeated every notion she had on how to uncover the truth behind whatever Theta was. Not to mention unmasking whoever was trying to turn facilitators into killers.