The Thought Pushers (Mind Dimensions #2)(35)

Except this time she’s talking about Pushing, not how to best deal with stress. This can only mean that I’m right about my suspicions.

Liz is a Pusher, so the us she just mentioned is other Pushers. Liz wants me to prove I’m one of them by Pushing her receptionist.

My head feeling like it’s about to explode, I walk up to the receptionist.

She’s frozen in an unnatural position while starting a phone call. I gingerly place my finger on her right hand, the same hand that’s pressing the number dial.



*



“Okay, Mr. Davenport, I will reschedule your appointment for two p.m., Monday of next week. Thanks for letting us know,” we say and hang up.

I, Darren, separate my thoughts from Camilla’s. I’m here for a reason, and I need to do what I came here to do.

I visualize getting up, opening the door, and saying ‘I’m sorry, we’re out of doughnuts.’

Just to be sure the whole thing makes sense in Camilla’s head, I add a story around it:

‘The patient Darren requested a doughnut. He explained how hungry he is and how difficult it is to go on with the session without the treat. However, he’s diabetic and allowing him to take the doughnut from the box that’s sitting on the desk would be a bad idea. So let’s walk in and say, ‘Sorry, we’re out of doughnuts.’ The box can be hidden when he gets out. And it’s okay to interrupt the session for this reason. In fact, it’s critical to get this out of the patient’s mind, so he can focus on the rest of the session.’

Hopeful that my Push will work, I exit Camilla’s head.





Chapter 17


“Okay,” I say. “Let’s get out.”

Without waiting for Liz’s response, I walk back into the office and touch my forehead.

The ambient noises of the office come back. Liz is sitting in front of me, her arms crossed in anticipation.

There is a hesitant knock on the door.

Liz doesn’t respond. I don’t either.

Slowly, the door opens and Camilla walks in, looking extremely uncertain. I find it fascinating to watch this. On some level, this woman knows that interrupting the doctor with her patient is wrong, despite the rationalization I placed into her mind. However, she’s clearly unable to fight the compulsion.

“Sorry, we’re out of doughnuts,” she says, looking at me. Then she reddens and runs back out of the office.

“That’s very good,” Liz says, putting her hands on the handles of her chair. She was clearly tense the last few moments.

“Will I get some answers now?” I ask, figuring that’s what I should say. “Am I one of you?”

I have a dilemma. I know more than I probably should. I decide not to show it. If she’s a Pusher who assumes that I’m a Pusher too, then she would likely react negatively if she knew I was a Reader as well. She clearly isn’t the Pusher who tried to kill me—whoever that is must know what I look like. Of course, it makes sense that the first Pusher I would meet face to face would not necessarily be the one who wants me dead. There are probably as many of them as Readers—not that I know how many Readers there actually are in the world. Still, I need to be careful: Liz could know that Pusher.

“Yes, you are one of us,” she says. “We call ourselves Guides, for obvious reasons.”

Guides. That’s much nicer-sounding than Pushers. “Because we can force people to do what we want?”

“Force is a crude word for it, but yes—though I don’t like to think of it that way. We don’t force as much as provide guidance for people to wish to do what we intend. It’s not all that different from making a thoroughly persuasive argument.”

Yeah, right, I think, but don’t say it. What argument could I have given someone to take a bullet for Mira? But then I realize that one could say that the Secret Service agents have been persuaded to do exactly that for the President.

“What are some of the other things you mentioned?” I resume my questioning. “What are Leachers? Why are they so dangerous? Why did you think I could be one?”

“Let’s talk more privately,” she says and looks like she’s concentrating for a moment. The next instant, I’m standing in the middle of our chairs, looking at her touching my frozen self on the cheek. Was her touch a bit too gentle, almost sensual, or is that my imagination?

The room is silent again, which makes me realize that Pushers can also phase into the Quiet and pull others with them. Not a huge surprise, but I can’t take anything for granted.

“Okay,” she says after winding up her watch. I wonder if she’s concerned about spending too much of her Depth, or whatever Pushers call it. “Leachers are a group of people who can also ‘stop time,’ which we call Splitting. Only instead of Guiding people, they do something disturbing and unnatural. They Leach people’s minds of information—which is the ultimate violation of privacy. Make no mistake, this is not the harmless telepathy you might’ve seen in movies, where a mind reader gleans some surface thoughts. No, Leachers go much deeper. They can ferret out every secret, uncover every desire and forbidden fantasy. No memory is hidden, no interaction is sacred for them—they can access it all.” Her nose wrinkles with barely concealed disgust as she adds, “And yes, they’re very dangerous.”