The Thought Pushers (Mind Dimensions #2)(3)

The street, though, looks much cleaner than Mira’s part of town. It’s almost Manhattan-like. I can see why some of my coworkers choose to live here.

“Take us in,” Caleb requests without turning off the ignition.

I comply and phase into the Quiet. The jitters from the ride make it easy; fear always helps me with the process. Instantly, the sounds of the engine disappear, and I find myself in the back seat.

I bring Caleb into the Quiet with me, and we make our way to the house in silence.

When we reach the locked door, Caleb breaks it with a few powerful kicks. His legs must be incredibly strong. Then he walks in like he owns the place, and I follow.

Surprisingly, it’s nice inside—really nice. There’s something exotic about the décor that I can’t quite place.

On the first floor, there’s a kitchen where we find a man and a woman sitting at a table, eating breakfast. Both are olive-skinned and dark-haired. The guy is fairly well built—which is expected, since Caleb said he’s supposed to be some kind of a fighter.

“Him,” Caleb says, pointing at the guy.

“How is this supposed to work?” I ask.

“You go about it just like you’re going to Read him. Then, once I’m confident you’re inside his head, I’ll try to Read him at the same time. That’s the best way to explain it. You’ll feel a strange sensation—your instinct will be to reject whatever is happening. You’ll have to fight that impulse. Instead, you’ll need to allow me to share your Reading. If you don’t, both of us will just end up Reading him separately, like the other isn’t there.”

“And then? What will it be like if this works?”

“That part is hard to describe. It’s easier to just try it. Psychedelic is the best way I can explain it.” He smirks—not a pretty sight.

Psychedelic is good, I guess. Some people pay to have that kind of experience. I was never one of them, but still.

“Okay, got it. And we stay out of each other’s individual memories,” I say, trying to sound nonchalant.

“Yeah, as much as we can, but it’s a crapshoot. You’ll see what I mean in a second. Good luck.”

“Wait, how far into his memories should I go?” I ask, trying to postpone the inevitable.

“Don’t go too deep. Your time will be split at least three ways when we do this. I promised not to squeeze your Depth dry, and I want to keep my word. Just try to go for the first violent memory you can. That kind of thing shouldn’t be hard to locate when it comes to Haim.” This last bit seems to amuse Caleb.

“Okay, fine. Let’s do it,” I say, placing my hand on Haim’s wrist. I start getting into the Coherence state—the prerequisite for Reading. It comes to me almost instantly, despite the extra stress.

And then I’m inside Haim’s mind.





Chapter 2


“Haim, it’s been so good having you around,” Orit says to us in English. We take a sip of the tea she’s prepared for us, trying not to burn our tongue, and reflect on how hanging out with our sister has been a highlight of the year.

“Now it’s your turn,” we say. “You have to visit me and Grandma in Israel.”

Orit hesitates before she nods. Despite her agreement, we know she’s not likely to come. We’re not actually that upset about it; we’re usually in too much danger to have little Orit around. But then again, we think she really ought to visit Israel at some point. Maybe she could find a husband there. Or finally learn a few words in Hebrew.

I, Darren, disassociate from Haim’s immediate memory. I’m amazed yet again at the lack of language barriers when it comes to Reading. Haim’s native tongue appears to be Hebrew, yet I understand his thoughts, just like I did with the Russians the other day. It seems to prove that thought is language-independent, unless something else explains this phenomenon.

I also reflect on how someone else’s feelings become my own during Reading—for example, the olive-skinned woman at this table seemed very plain to me a moment ago, but inside Haim’s head, everything is different. Her dark eyes and hair are just like our mother’s—and the similarity is further highlighted by her caring nature . . .

I’m distracted from my rumination when I feel something new.

This something is hard to explain. Have you ever had a head rush from getting up too quickly or drinking too much? Multiply that lightheadedness a thousandfold, and you might get a glimpse of what this feels like.

All my instincts tell me I need to clear my head of this feeling. To get stability. To ground myself, which means I need to do the opposite—at least if I follow Caleb’s instructions.

So I try to remain loopy. It’s difficult, but my reward, if you can call it that, is a strengthening of this weird feeling. It now feels less like lightheadedness and more like free falling from a plane—a feeling I got to know recently from Reading my friend Amy’s skydiving experience.

And then something completely different begins.

A feeling of unimaginable intensity overcomes me, a combination of overwhelming awe and wonder. There’s a strange bliss to it, followed by a feeling of becoming something more than my own self—becoming a new being. It’s both frightening and beautiful.

The sensation comes in waves of moments when I feel deep understanding of everything in the world, even the universe—or maybe even the multiverse—as though, all of a sudden, my intelligence has multiplied. That brief sensation of omniscience dissipates the next moment, and what I feel can best be described as cherishing something sacred, like standing in reverence next to a monument for fallen soldiers.