The Elders (Mind Dimensions #4)(75)

“How?”

“He tried to pull her in, and not just her. He tried to pull in every one of them. When he did, he brought a part of them here, to Nirvana.” He projects the last word again with relish. “Once a part of them was in Nirvana, I was able to be there, in that session, just as I can be in your sessions. Then I prevented the connection, which to the Super Pusher must’ve felt as if they were Inert.”

“But how?” I think. “And what about Caleb? He also seemed immune to the Super Pusher.”

“Caleb was protected by another being similar to me—the one the two of you created during the Joining you did when you learned how to fight,” Mimir explains.

My head is spinning from his explanation, but more so from the reminder that there are more creatures like Mimir out there.

“Don’t call us creatures,” his thought tells me.

“Fine. What should I call you?”

“Call us something with more gravitas. How about Transcendental Minds?”

“That’s a mouthful,” I think back. “How about I call you Trannies for short?”

A mental snort arrives in my mind. “In that case, please call us Omni Minds, or Omnis if you must make everything short. Now, we still don’t know how much time you have left, so you must save the Enlightened—now.”

“Wait, what about Julia? Was she immune to the Super Pusher too?”

His reply is rushed. “Yes. Another Omni, one that was formed when the Enlightened Joined with Julia. Now focus. I refuse to communicate with you until this threat is neutralized.”

I rein in my million questions about the Omnis and focus on the constellation of neurons that is Richard. This time, I teleport without needing an intermediate jump. I think I’m beginning to get the hang of teleporting in Level 2.

Richard’s mind has no scent, which makes sense since I’ve never Read him before, but I do so now.





*





Our mind is as focused on our task as a self-navigating missile. Find the Enlightened. Kill the Enlightened. The Instructions repeat in our mind as we stalk our targets through the forest.

I, Darren, take a quick mental note of what’s going on. This is Richard’s mind. He just finished dealing with the cops I turned on him, and he’s running to catch up with the Enlightened in the forest. Reluctantly, I let the memory unfold.

We run like a berserker without sparing a thought for the branches and roots in our way. When the white figures appear, every muscle in our body prepares to carry out their execution.

An old man steps away from the group.

“What do you want, Pusher?” he asks, his voice firm. Over his shoulder, he orders, “Go. Now.”

On some level, we know he’s afraid, but on another very distant level, we marvel that an elderly, weak-looking man like him would even confront us this way.

The instructions take over.

We silently walk up to the man, expecting a chase. He doesn’t run; in fact, he tries to stare us down.

We respond by executing a punch. Our fist drowns in the old man’s soft midsection. As we watch him double over in pain, we push him.

The old man falls to the ground in a flutter of white robes.

We draw our leg back to kick him, so we can finish the job and deal with the others.

I, Darren, disassociate with a shudder. There’s something abominable about turning a man into a living, breathing killing machine the way the Super Pusher has done. Anyone short of a true psychopath would feel some empathy when hitting an elderly man like that—at least I would hope so. I’m also touched by Paul’s bravery. His treatment of me aside, I’m glad I’ll be able to save the old son of a bitch.

I instruct Richard: You will not kick the man in front of you. Furthermore, you will not harm a single Enlightened or their entourage. In fact, you are their protector, and your primary goal is to get them to the safety of the forest. To show them you aren’t a threat, you will kneel with your hands behind your head and tell them, “I am henceforth your protector. Command me. Oh, and hi, Paul. I’m being commanded by Darren, your grandson, who says, ‘Hello, *. Sorry you’re in pain. Rose will fill you in on what’s going down.’”

With that, I exit Richard’s mind.





*





“Well done.” Mimir’s thought is the first thing I experience when the blackness of Level 2 overtakes me again. “Now follow me.”

He teleports and I follow.

I eventually see them—the bundles of light. I count five, which means Caleb succeeded in his task of bringing in George, Kate, Eleanor, and James without getting killed.

Of the five minds I see in the distance, most are clustered in a group that looks like a small constellation that’s roughly a third of Mimir’s size. Slightly to the side of them is a single pattern.

“Okay,” I think, half to myself, half to my guide. “How do we figure out which is which, or who is who?”

“That is a very good question, with far-reaching consequences,” Mimir replies, his neurons flickering brighter than usual.

“Were you about to suggest something?” I think, this time directing it toward Mimir.

“Well, to start, I know someone who can identify Caleb,” Mimir explains. “Once he does, we’ll have to improvise as we go.”