The Elders (Mind Dimensions #4)(79)
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 f*cker 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.
“I just didn’t say the whole truth,” he responds. “I have other, more personal reasons that I don’t think are as relevant.” This time, his response is more truthful. “A Leacher killed my parents.”