The Thought Pushers (Mind Dimensions #2)(10)

When we leave the car in the parking lot, we’re met by a dude I recall seeing the other day. The one who doesn’t seem to like Eugene. Caleb’s rude twin—and being ruder than Caleb is a challenge. I really dislike the look he gives me—kind of like a wolf eyeing a stray lamb.

“Sam, take Darren to meet Jacob and bring him back here when they’re done,” Caleb says.

Sam turns toward the lavish building without a word, walking briskly toward it. I follow him. The silence hangs over us the whole way.

Who knew Caleb would turn out to be the friendly one?



*



“Sam, you may go now,” Jacob says dismissively after Sam leads me into the man’s posh office.

“Darren, it’s nice to meet you face to face,” Jacob says as soon as Sam is gone. He shakes my hand firmly, giving me a reassuring smile.

“Nice to meet you too, Jacob.” I try to return his friendliness and hope he doesn’t notice how nervous I am.

He looks different in this face-to-face encounter than on Skype the other day. I guess Eugene brought out the worst in him. Today Jacob seems like a nice guy.

“I wanted to properly introduce myself.” He sits down, gesturing for me to take the chair across from his desk. “We don’t get new Readers every day.”

“I see. There seemed to be an element of urgency for this specific visit.” I try not to sound hostile as I take my seat. I also wonder if I should phase into the Quiet and take a look around the office. Given that he’s aware of the Quiet, would Jacob leave anything informative lying around? Not likely, I determine, and decide against it.

“No true urgency, I assure you. More like satisfaction of my curiosity, and a proper response to a truly rare case. Your situation is very special. You said you didn’t know you were a Reader until yesterday.”

“I said it because it’s true,” I respond, a little too defensively. Modifying my tone, I continue, “I was adopted, you see.”

“You have to forgive me if I sounded incredulous—I certainly didn’t mean to imply deceit on your part. It’s just such an unusual occurrence. Particularly the fact that you discovered on your own that you can Split. Did I get that part right?”

“Yes. It first happened to me as a child,” I say. I tell him about the bike accident, about thinking I was about to die and the whole world freezing around me.

He asks more about my childhood, and I tell him a few stories. It’s the friendliest interrogation technique I’ve ever encountered. The guy seems genuinely curious about me. And I have a weakness. Like most people, I like talking about myself. As I realize this, I proceed more carefully. I don’t want to blurt out anything that can reveal my Pusher experience.

“The main thing I wanted to talk to you about today is discretion,” Jacob says after I accept his offer of coffee, and he personally makes me a cup.

“Discretion?” I say, blowing on my coffee.

“We Readers have kept our existence a secret from other people since antiquity,” he says, his voice becoming preachy and monotone. I get the feeling he’s given this spiel many times before. “We have always firmly believed that if the public found out, they would do something terrible to us.”

I recall both Mira and Eugene alluding to the Reader community having a non-disclosure stance when it comes to Reader powers. Remembering how Jacob reacted to Eugene on Skype, I decide not to go with ‘I’ve heard this from Eugene before.’ Instead, I say, “That’s pretty dark.”

“Yes,” Jacob agrees. “But we can Read people’s minds, as you now know, and that ability enables us to accurately assess human nature. Trust me when I say they would not take to us kindly at all. I wish it weren’t so, but it’s the truth.”

“So what do you think would happen if our existence became common knowledge?” I ask, putting my suddenly chilled hands around the warm cup.

“We could become secret slaves to some government agency—and that would be the best case scenario.” His jaw tightens. “The more likely possibility would be complete genocide.”

Genocide? Wow, he doesn’t pull his punches. “Does the prospect have to be so bleak?” I inquire, forcing myself to sip my coffee. I can’t resist my tendency to play the devil’s advocate. I haven’t given this topic much thought after my friends mentioned it, but what Jacob says actually sounds plausible—which is why some pain-in-the-ass part of me questions it. My habit of questioning virtually everything drove my moms and my uncle nuts when I was growing up. “What about progress?” I say. “Surely in modern times, people wouldn’t do something like that. It’s not like we’re that much different from anyone else.”

“We’re a different species.” His tone sharpens.

“Well, strictly speaking, we’re not.” Even though I risk further eroding the positive tenor of our discussion, I can’t help myself. “The ones you call half-bloods are proof of that.”

And just like that, the conversation takes a bad turn. Jacob’s face goes red. “You’re not here to split hairs about semantics.” He slaps his palm on the desk. “That so-called progress will just make our annihilation faster than we ever thought possible.”

I stare at him, shocked into silence by his outburst. “I didn’t mean to upset you,” I say in a soothing tone after a moment.