The Elders (Mind Dimensions #4)(72)

I begin to see a matrix of white afterglow and try to tell Eugene, “Now would be a good time to help me,” but what comes out is a hiss that sounds like a broken vacuum cleaner.

Fleetingly, I wonder why the world isn’t slowing down.

The last time I was on the brink of death, I phased into Level 2 on my own—no machine required. Am I really not as scared right now as I was back then? Am I not as desperate? If I survive today, I’ll need to rethink my newfound bravery, if that’s what’s behind my Level 2 dysfunction.

I struggle to stop my body from convulsing, as every movement saps more energy from me.

My mind is slipping. Almost as if I’m in a dream, I feel a pressure around my skull. It takes me a few moments to understand what it means. Eugene must’ve fastened the helmet back onto my head.

Eugene’s voice is right next to my ear. “I’m pressing it again.”

A strange noise follows his words—a noise that sounds like humming.

The external humming is followed by the strangest feeling—a series of uncomfortable taps against the front of my head. I vaguely recall reading about this effect of TMS therapy.

Then I’m out.





*





I never thought I’d be this glad to have all my senses go away. I never thought I’d welcome the blackness and the lack of everything that is Level 2. If I had a heart in this state, joy would be welling up there right about now. As is, joy wells up in a part of my mind instead.

Hell, I’m so relieved that I’ll call this place Nirvana for the time being. As unpleasant as it is being a naked mind afloat in this ether, it sure beats the alternative. If Thomas had beaten Eugene to it, if he had killed me, I’d be back in the forest, Inert and powerless to stop Thomas from choking Mira to death.

Some of my enthusiasm ebbs when I look around.

‘Looking’ is what I call the foreign sense that allows me to ‘see’ the starry entities—the representations of other minds. It’s not truly vision, but I don’t have a better word for it.

After I intently focus on seeing, I make out three patterns that appear ‘nearby’—another verbal nicety.

I assume those patterns are myself, Thomas, and Eugene. Mira wouldn’t be there, as she’s not in the Quiet.

I look around some more.

Nothing.

What about the patterns representing Kate’s team, Rose, and Caleb? Maybe they’re too far for me to be aware of them in this state, but what does distance even mean in this place?

In any case, the most important thing for me to do is save Mira, and for that, all I need is Thomas’s pattern.

I examine the three patterns. Though they’re as different from each other as constellations, the hundred-dollar question is: which one is Thomas?

They’re pretty close to each other, so I can’t orient myself based on their positions. Worst-case scenario is that I accidentally interact with my own pattern, because I would then phase out.

That I can’t recognize myself is frustrating, to say the least.

Reminding myself that I have no clue how much time I can spend in this realm, I decide to simply go with my intuition. Maybe intuition is what serves as recognition in this place.

I let my intuition settle on the pattern I think is Thomas.

At first, nothing happens, but then, after a little bit of concentration, I’m halfway to it, without having traversed the intermediate distance.

When in Nirvana, even I can teleport like the Elders. Hey, maybe that’s how they got so good at teleporting? Maybe practicing it here will allow me to master it in the simpler world of the Quiet? I decide to focus on these teleporting movements as I make them. Unbidden, a dark thought comes: if there is a later. After all, there is a chance Eugene’s machine will take my powers away.

Anxiety overwhelms me. The emptiness of Level 2 amplifies it to the point that I don’t know whether I can take it. If I had eyes, tears would be running down my cheeks. If I had a mouth, I might’ve yelled in frustration. Because all of this suffering doesn’t have an outlet, it’s made that much more painful.

Then I recall why I’m here. Thomas is about to kill Mira. I can’t fall apart.

Getting my turbulent thoughts under control, I will myself closer to the pattern that is, hopefully, Thomas. And then I’m there and ready to surround it.

As soon as I make contact, I’m in.





*





“I shot him,” we say. “Why is he still fighting?”

“Eugene, focus on the machine,” Darren says, his half-choked voice full of terror. “If you kill him, he’ll be Inert, and that will ruin everything.”

Self-loathing over our stupidity overwhelms us. We throw the gun we found back on the floor. We almost killed our sister by aiding the Pusher in control of Thomas’s mind. There’s no way Darren can override Thomas if Thomas is Inert.

That is, if Darren gets to override anyone, we think, but swiftly dispel that treacherous thought. Of course Darren will succeed—even if this is the last time he ever uses his powers. We didn’t have the guts to tell him how precise Dad’s math is.

We decide to follow our friend’s advice and focus on getting him to Level 2. We rush back to the machine and act quickly. Like a juggler, we push the device toward our fighting friends and, at the same time, begin reconnecting the wires we hope are causing the delay.