The Virus (22 page)

Geoffrey gestured again at
the seat, and this time, the doctor obliged. Although reluctantly,
he recognized the validity of Geoffrey’s argument. He was just too
exhausted to ‘keep up the facade’ as Geoffrey had so eloquently put
it. He sat down heavily on the narrow seat of the foldout chair,
raised his reddened, weary eyes to Geoffrey’s and let out a deep
sigh that said more than any combination of words would’ve ever
done. Another lengthy silence ensued, and this time, it was the
doctor who finally broke the quiet.

“Well, for what it’s
worth, you shouldn’t feel too bad about your situation, Geoffrey.
I’m not in a room like this all day, but, except for my brief
outings, mostly to the complex’s kitchens, of which you probably
already know about, I’d suppose, I’m in this facility for the vast
majority of my day…” the doctor mused for a moment, “of my life,
actually.” He paused, “Which brings me to the fact that, like you,
I, too, am being monitored every hour of the day.” Dr. Crangler
motioned toward the hidden camera. “Which means that,
unfortunately, I can’t be seen idle talking with you like this for
too much longer. The powers that be already think that I’m not fit
for the job anymore, and it certainly wouldn’t look good for me to
be confiding or taking advice from a patient, even if that patient
can read minds, and probably especially since that patient can read
minds.”

“Which
brings
me
to something I’ve been wanting to test out. Something I think
may help both our situations. Actually, the more I think about
it—and believe me I’ve had
nothing
but plenty of time to think around here—I think
it could be a big help. It may even be the answer, or at least part
of it, that could bring everything together. But I should probably
warn you, it’s going to take some faith on your part, and it at
first it’s going to be a little…
different
to experience.” Dr.
Crangler hadn’t a clue what to make of Geoffrey’s vaguely expressed
idea, but at this last admission, he thought he may understand; and
he wasn’t quite sure he wanted anything to do with it. Even if
Geoffrey wasn’t able to read Doctor Crangler’s mind, he would’ve
still been able to read the newly surfaced trepidation on his face.
“Listen, Dr. Crangler, I won’t shit you. What you think I’m talking
about is what I’m talking about, and it won’t be fun at first. In
fact, if you’re anything like me, it’s going to be damn scary at
first, but I really think it could help things move along here. In
fact, I really can’t see any other way.”

He looked at the doctor
for a moment, hoping that his sincerity was evident, before he
continued, “Look, you know I can hear your thoughts, and by that
alone, I know something of what you’re up against, what happens if
you fail. I know what has to happen with Delilah and I think I can
help. Besides, what could it hurt to give it a try? It would seem
as if we’re all on the losing end of a full scale intergalactic war
anyway, right?” Geoffrey gave the doctor another silent moment to
think it over. “I’ve experienced it and it didn’t hurt me, at least
as far as I know. It was definitely a new experience, but it didn’t
hurt me, and if I’m correct, it won’t hurt you either. And if I’m
right, it may even change you like it changed me.” At this the
doctor’s ill-restrained look of concern gradually changed to
fascination. Before this period in his professional life, he
would’ve never given a moment’s consideration to what he knew
Geoffrey was proposing, but now, with all that had been weighing
him down, it was, at least, an option.

After seeming to consider
Geoffrey’s as yet unspoken proposition, the doctor abruptly stood,
scolded his patient for nearly luring him into his auspices, signed
to the camera for the room’s door to be electronically opened, and
disappeared into the hallway outside. The lock latched back into
place noisily behind him. Geoffrey showed no surprise. He turned
away from the camera so that the assistants wouldn’t see the lack
of surprise on his face. He sat like this, turned away from the
camera, until the sound of the heavy door’s lock again filled the
room some time later and Dr. Crangler returned. “If you can still
read my mind, then you already know what all that was
about.”

“Yes,
I
can
still read your mind, Doctor, and yes, I
do
know what all that was about.”
He
could
and
did
,
and because of it, he knew even before Dr. Crangler bolted from the
folding chair so unceremoniously, that he had just put on an
elaborate but necessary show for the spectators watching. If Dr.
Crangler’s superiors saw him breaking down and taking advice from
one of his patients, it certainly wouldn’t bode well for him. After
he left the room, Dr. Crangler had his assistants temporarily
disable the camera, under the pretense that he intended to
interrogate Geoffrey in private for his insolence. In another odd
turn of events, the doctor’s recently highly unusual behavior
helped aid his plan more than he could’ve ever anticipated. When
his superiors got word some time later that he had ordered the
monitoring of one of his star patients temporarily halted, which
was completely unheard of, considering recorded footage of the two
patients could yield an invaluable edge in this war against The
Virus, they naturally assumed he had taken their ultimatum very
seriously and was doing whatever it took to get results. No one,
from the assistants to the superiors, suspected that something very
different was taking place between Geoffrey and Dr.
Crangler.

“Okay, are you ready, Dr.
Crangler?” asked Geoffrey, poised as if ready to strike the doctor
with a bolt of lightning (which, as the doctor was about to find
out, was not far from the truth).

“Y-yes.” The Dr. Crangler
stammered. He took a deep breath, trying to steady
himself.

This was his facility. He
had performed procedures not only on humans but also alien life
forms that would’ve aroused the professional envy of just about any
other doctor on the face of the planet. As such, his pride would
not allow him to show Geoffrey the whimpering, frightened child
that was just behind the cool facade that he was struggling
desperately to maintain. Geoffrey knew all this, but he also knew
that what he was about to do was similar to the childbirth that the
doctor was trying to elicit from Delilah. There was no way to truly
be prepared for such a monumental event. Besides, Geoffrey knew
that if he didn’t test this experiment now, the doctor may lose
heart later and he would be stuck alone in his damned room for
another two weeks before he caught sight of any living human being
besides the assistants who took care of him.

“Should we hold hands, I
mean, should there be physical contact involved?” Dr. Crangler
asked, still trying not to sound like a frightened
adolescent.

Geoffrey smiled faintly.
“You know, Doctor,” he answered, “one of the benefits of being
around somebody who can read your mind is that you don’t have to
fake it like you’re not scared. And no, I don’t think physical
contact has much to do with it. Mr. Reynolds certainly didn’t hold
my hands. But, whatever, let’s get started. Just one piece of
advice, though, like I said, it’s going to be very
interesting
at first, so
just remind yourself of that and try not to panic.” Dr. Crangler
nodded his head and waited. Geoffrey closed his eyes tight and
almost immediately, something like television or radio static
filled the doctor’s head. Just as Geoffrey had warned, it was,
indeed, interesting. The experience of having foreign sound
projected into his head, not his ears, but into his very brain, was
enough to cause the usually reposed doctor to clasp his head
frantically with his hands, just as Geoffrey had back at his first
experience. The static sound was not loud, but rather unnervingly
clear, since it was not being filtered through physical eardrums.
The sound was as clear in the doctor’s head as his own thoughts,
which made it all the more surreal. It was as if his brain had been
hijacked and made to play a tape of unknown origins.

After a few seconds,
Geoffrey opened his eyes, and grabbed Dr. Crangler’s hands,
simultaneously stopping him from assaulting his cranium and halting
him from jumping out of his seat in panic. The static sound stopped
immediately, and the doctor quickly calmed and refocused his eyes.
“I told you it would be new,” said Geoffrey, “But take a moment and
feel. Are you hurting anywhere?” The doctor took a moment, and
found that he wasn’t hurting. He thought that he was hurting a
moment earlier, having an outside influence penetrate the wiring of
his brain must have caused it to send mixed signals to his body,
but now, he felt fine: A little shaken, but otherwise,
okay.

“All right, we’re going to
try it again, Dr. Crangler. Hey, you got it good I think. Mr.
Reynolds damn sure didn’t give me time to get used to
it.”

“Why does it sound like
static in my head?” the doctor interrupted.

“I don’t know, really. I’m
involved I guess, but I’m not what you call an expert on this
thing. It was the same way with me at first, though. I learned from
my father that the body’s senses work off electrical impulses or
something like that. I’m sure you’d know more about that than I
would, and so do radios and televisions. I think it’s like that,
the signal trying to become clear or something.” Geoffrey shrugged
his shoulders. The doctor nodded during the explanation. Afterward,
he watched Geoffrey thoughtfully. He was impressed; Geoffrey’s
theorem sounded plausible.

“So, you ready to try
again, Doctor?”

“No.” the doctor answered
truthfully, then bowed his head so he could concentrate on staying
calm.

Geoffrey didn’t close his
eyes this time, but the static sound returned to Dr. Crangler’s
head nonetheless. Now that the doctor was better prepared and much
calmer, he noticed that the sound was not quite static, at least,
not erratic white noise. It had an organization to it, a vague
underlying pattern that was becoming clearer with every passing
moment. Gradually, that pattern became like a voice. Then that
voice, something like words.

Then a phrase, a repeating
phrase—“Cnn ya err e ow…cnn ya err e ow…can ya ear me ow…can you
ear me ow…can you hear me now?” The doctor smiled, despite
himself.

“Good,” the soundless
voice answered into his head “Very good. I see that you can
understand me. I was skeptical about whether this would work or
not.”

“Well, it does work.” The
doctor answered aloud. “But, let’s talk the old fashioned way for a
moment. I think I’m going to need a little while longer to get used
to this.”

“Fully understandable. I
wish I had had time to acclimate to the situation more thoroughly
myself.”

Dr. Crangler gave his
patient a wry look. The strangely accurate explanation of what the
static from earlier may’ve been, the sudden proficiency of
vocabulary, could this transformation actually be making
Geoffrey…
smarter
?
“I don’t know, Doctor.” Geoffrey answered the unspoken inquiry. “I
certainly have been thinking more, I don’t know…clearly, than I
usually do lately, but I figured it may just be the stimulus
sterile environment. You know, you can learn a little about
yourself when this is all you have to look at all day.” Geoffrey
motioned around him.

“When did
this new ability come? As if it weren’t phenomenal enough that you
can read thoughts, you can
project
them now as well?” the
doctor asked. He still looked haggard and worn. Geoffrey’s
telepathy was amazing, but even it wasn’t able to give the doctor
another desperately-needed shave and shower. At least the curious
glisten of discovery was returning to his weathered
eyes.

“Well, it didn’t really
come to me, per se. I kind of worked on it. It’s not like I have
much else to do here, you know. And so I focused on hearing what
was in my head a little better, and after about a week…I’m assuming
it was a week, I don’t know how long it was, really…or so, it
actually worked. You heard how the words I projected to you became
gradually easier to understand? It was like that. Like when you
hear a faint, foreign sound in your house, if you sit still and be
really quiet, you can hear it better. Well, I guess that’s what
I’ve been doing, sitting still—for a really long time—and listening
really hard.”

Dr. Crangler recalled the
image on his monitors of Geoffrey squinting and massaging his
temples in concentration. Before he could halt it, the thought
crossed his mind of what
else
Geoffrey may be able to do with a little more
time to practice, and it sent an involuntary cringe through his
body. There were new abilities that stood to be unlocked, myriads
of dormant areas of the brain that no longer had to remain
unusable. It would usher in a new horizon for the human race, but
there was no way to estimate the price that would need to be paid
for such a game-changing breakthrough.

“I agree completely.”
Geoffrey answered, even though the doctor had posed no audible
question. “With everyone reading everyone else’s minds, all of us
speaking the same mental language, what would separate us from the
aliens? We’d have a global community…just like they, we’d be able
to share all known information instantly…just like they, and then
eventually, we wouldn’t see any reason not to try to conquer other
areas of the universe…just like they.”