The Thought Pushers (Mind Dimensions #2)(46)

“It’s okay. My folks are probably not even the worst of what’s out there. Yes, they’re obsessed with fear of exposure to regular people. And, yes, they’re afraid of new technology or—more correctly—of progress of any kind. Oh, and if they had their way, life today would be like the good old days of yesteryear that I suspect never existed in the first place. All of those things are true, but even with all those things in mind, I don’t think my parents would go as far as trying to Guide someone to kill anyone.”

She stops talking and looks thoughtful. Is she wondering if she just told the truth? If her parents might be capable of murder in the name of their beliefs? I guess this topic is off the table for the time being.

Food and drinks arrive just in time to fill the silent moment we’re having. She starts wolfing down her chips with the guacamole and offers me some.

“This is surprisingly good,” I say, trying the chips. Apparently, they were made in a dehydrator, which slowly dried them without officially cooking them. That doesn’t sound very ‘raw’ to me, but they taste a lot like corn chips, so I’m not going to complain. My own dish of the pseudo-spaghetti made from zucchini is also pretty good, though it has as much in common with the real thing as a hot dog with a real canine. I taste the drink too, like it, and tell Hillary, “This coconut water is different from the stuff I’ve gotten before.”

“Of course, you probably got the one from the can,” she says, and starts eating her salad. Her hands are so small that the fork looks big in them.

I wonder how Hillary and her friends would react to knowing the truth about me, so to test the waters, I ask, “The way you talked about the Traditionalists hating Leachers before, you made it sound like the rest of your community likes them.”

“Compared to the Traditionalists, we’re practically in love with them, sure,” she says, spearing another bite of salad with her fork.

“Hmm, but I thought, at least from talking to Liz, that Leachers are to be avoided,” I say, pushing the inquiry further. I hope she doesn’t find the topic suspicious. I really want to find out how much danger I’d be in if my fellow Guides learned about my Reading abilities.

“I don’t know about Liz, but I, personally, don’t hate the Leachers. Not even a little bit,” she says, giving me a guileless look. “In fact, I’m curious about them.”

“Oh. And is that a common view?”

“No. Mine is probably a rare attitude. The rest of the group would consider me weird, even though they’re pretty liberal. Even outside the Traditionalists, most Guides dislike Leachers with a passion.”

“Is it because of the genocides?” I ask, remembering Liz’s history lesson.

“Yeah, that’s part of it. Bad history does that to groups. But there’s more to it. It’s widely believed that Leachers still, to this day, actively hate us—so disliking them back seems like a natural response,” she says.

“But you don’t,” I clarify.

“Well, I wouldn’t go as far as seeking them out. I agree that it’s wise to avoid Leachers. Not because I believe they’re evil, but because I think some of them may have the same ‘us versus them’ mentality that a lot of Guides do, even outside the Traditionalist clique.”

“So we’re supposed to dislike them because they hate us, and avoid them for the same reason. If they apply the same logic, isn’t that a Catch-22?”

“You’re a man after my own heart,” Hillary says with a smile. “That’s actually a pet peeve of mine, and I think you verbalized it perfectly. The entire human race has this tendency—the inclination to cling to their own group. This obsession with sub-dividing ourselves is responsible for practically every evil in the world. Everyone fails to see that the hatred between our people is just another example in a series of these meaningless feuds. They all start with people who are extremely alike, and then a tiny difference creeps in, and people separate along that difference, after which insanity ensues. Sooner or later, you get that ‘we hate you because you hate us’ deadlock, or worse.”

“Wow, you really have given it some thought,” I say, impressed.

“How could I not? It’s so obvious. Take anything arbitrary, like skin color, income, politics, religion, nationality, or in this case, types of powers. You name it, and at some point, people find a way to separate over that arbitrary trait—and some become willing to kill over it. Once that thinking sets in, the groups start thinking of one another as less than human, which further justifies all manner of atrocities. The whole cycle is so pointless that I sometimes want to give up.” She sighs. “But I don’t. Instead, to quote a wise man, ‘I try to be the change I’d like to see in the world.’”

“I wonder what Gandhi would’ve said about all this,” I say, sipping my drink. “And, for what it’s worth, I’m not racist, sexist, or any other ist myself. In fact, since I didn’t grow up with these stories about Leachers, I don’t plan on hating them either. Like you, I’m curious about them, so I don’t think you’re weird at all.”

“Thank you,” she says, rewarding me with a wide, white-toothed grin. “You know, even though we just met, I feel like I know you already. Like I can trust you. But I don’t know why. Is that strange?”