The Thought Readers (Mind Dimensions #1)(4)
My frustration turns to anger as I realize that I lost her because those idiots delayed me at the most critical moment. Fuming, I punch a nearby person with all my strength, needing to vent. As is always the case in the Quiet, the object of my aggression doesn’t react in any way. Unfortunately, I don’t really feel better either.
Before I decide on my next course of action, I think about what happened at the table. The girl somehow got me to phase into the Quiet, and she was already there. When she saw me, she freaked out and ran. Maybe, like me, this was the first time she’s seen anyone ‘alive’ in there. Everyone reacts differently to strange events, and meeting another person after years of being solo in the Quiet definitely qualifies as strange.
Standing here thinking about it isn’t going to get me any answers, so I decide to be thorough and take one more look at the lobby again.
No luck. The girl is nowhere to be found.
Next, I go outside and walk around the casino driveway, trying to see if I can spot her there. I even look inside a few idling cabs, but she’s not there either.
Looking up at the flashy building towering over me, I consider searching every room in the hotel. There are at least a couple thousand of them. It would take me a long time, but it might be worth it. I have to find her and get some answers.
Although thoroughly searching a building that huge seems like a daunting task, it wouldn’t be impossible—at least not for me. I don’t get hungry, thirsty, or even tired in the Quiet. Never need to use the bathroom either. It’s very handy for situations like these, when you need to give yourself extra time. I can theoretically search every room—provided I can figure out how to get in. Those electronic doors won’t work in the Quiet, not even if I have the original key from the room’s occupants. Technology doesn’t usually function here; it’s frozen along with everything else. Unless it’s something mechanical and simple, like my wind-up watch, it won’t work—and even my watch I have to wind every time I’m in the Quiet.
Weighing my options, I try to imagine having to use physical force to break into thousands of hotel doors. Since my iPhone is sadly another technology casualty of the Quiet, I wouldn’t even be able to listen to some tunes to kill the time. Even for a cause this important, I’m not sure I want to go to those extremes.
Besides, if I do decide to search the building, now probably isn’t the best time to do it. Even if I find her, I won’t be able to go after her in the real world thanks to those idiot guards in my way. I need to get rid of them before determining what to do next.
Sighing, I slowly walk back to the hotel. When I enter the lobby, I scan it again, hoping that I somehow missed her the first time. I feel that same compulsion I get when I lose something around the house. When that happens, I always search the place from top to bottom and then start doing it again—looking in the same places I already checked, irrationally hoping that the third time will be the charm. Or maybe the fourth. I really need to stop doing that. As Einstein said, insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results.
Finally admitting defeat, I approach the bouncers. I can spend forever in the Quiet, but when I get out, they’ll still be here. There’s no avoiding that.
Moving in close, I look in the pocket of the fatter guy to find out what I’m up against. According to his ID, his name is Nick Shifer, and he’s with security. So I was right—he’s a bouncer. His driver’s license is also there, as well as a small family photo. I study both, in case I need the information later.
Next, I turn my attention to the pocket near which Nick’s hand is hovering. Looks like I was right again: he has a gun. If I took this gun and shot Nick at close range, he would get a bloody wound and likely fall from the impact. He wouldn’t scream, though, and he wouldn’t clutch his chest. And when I phase out, he would be whole again, with no signs of damage. It would be like nothing happened.
Don’t ask me how I know what happens when you shoot someone in the Quiet. Or stab him. Or hit him with a baseball bat. Or whack him with a golf club. Or kick him in the balls. Or drop bricks on his head—or a TV. The only thing I can say is that I can unequivocally confirm that in a wide variety of cruel and unusual experiments, the subjects turn out to be unharmed once I phase out of the Quiet.
Okay, that’s enough reminiscing. Right now, I have a problem to solve, and I need to be careful, with the guns being involved and all.
I smack my frozen self on the back of the head to phase out of the Quiet.
The world unfreezes, and I’m back with the bouncers in real time. I try to look calm, as though I haven’t been running around like a crazy man looking for whoever this girl is—because for them, none of that has happened.
“Okay, Nick, I’ll be happy to accompany you and resolve this misunderstanding,” I say in my most compliant tone.
Nick’s eyes widen at hearing his name. “How do you know me?”
“You read the file, Nick,” his lean partner says, obviously unimpressed. “The kid is very clever.”
The file? What the hell is he talking about? I’ve never been to this casino before. Oh, and I would love to know how being clever would help someone know the name of a complete stranger on a moment’s notice. People always say stuff like that about me, even though it makes no sense. I debate phasing into the Quiet to learn the second guy’s name as well, just to mess with them more, but I decide against it. It would be overkill. Instead I decide to mentally refer to the lean guy as Buff.