Soulmates
16
Scanning
Jaime and Keira
ON SUNDAY, they walked in the park and practiced quick reads on people. And of course, they kissed occasionally, just to open their senses more.
“Behave yourselves decently! There are children in the park. Find someplace private!” a woman barked at them as she walked past them. She had a dog on a leash and ignored the pile of poop it left as she was lecturing them.
«None of the children are hers,» Keira said. «She thinks if we’d had a proper upbringing, we wouldn’t be making a spectacle of ourselves.»
«She’s a very unhappy person because the world doesn’t behave according to her idea of the way it should. We’re just an example of the degeneration of the species.»
«I think we’re an example of the ascent and improvement of the species,» Keira laughed. «Though maybe at one time, the entire human race could communicate telepathically and we are a step in the de-evolutionary process.»
«It makes my head hurt to try to parse that thought,» Jaime said.
«Funny. I don’t feel it hurting at all.»
«Look! It’s the old man, Angus. He’s picking raspberry leaves for his rabbits.»
«Let’s talk to him.»
They walked up near the old guy, picking the few green leaves that were left and putting them in a plastic box.
“Hello, Mr. Angus,” Keira said aloud. “How are you today?”
“What? Who are you?” he growled.
“Um… We kind of met a weak ago. Maybe it was just in our heads.”
«Oh, you’re the ones who were talking so loud,» Angus said in his head.
«Yes,» Jaime answered. «Sorry if we disturbed your rehearsal.»
«Oh, the girls are in a film-writing class and I agreed to help them out by reading one of the parts. It was just a scene we did for their class a few days ago.»
«That’s interesting,» Keira said. «Excuse us for asking, but do you know if there are many people around like us? We encountered a couple at a concert and didn’t think we knew anyone else.»
«Hmm. I wouldn’t say many. Meeting two at a concert? That’s pretty high. But three of us in a scarcely inhabited park is just as odd. I don’t go looking for them.»
«Thank you. I hope your rabbits are well,» Jaime said.
“You two have a good day. I’ll not be around for a while. I’ve got a new case and I’m just collecting food for my friends before I have to leave for a few days.”
“Be careful out there,” Keira said. They smiled and left each other. Jaime and Keira walked back to her home.
«Keira, I want to do this every day. I don’t mean just kissing, but talking to you and holding your hand. We can do other stuff, too, but probably not every day. I can live with that.»
«According to my voyeuristic survey of members of our class, I’d say about half have had sex, but something less than a third have had sex in the past three months. We should check that as we surf the school for head talkers tomorrow.»
«We’re both going to do that?»
«When I suggested it, you jumped right in with a full intent to participate,» she said.
«There’s a downside of having our thoughts so easily read by each other. We know when one of us is bullshitting.»
«And don’t you forget it!» Keira laughed. They paused at her front door and gently kissed. «Seriously, though, we need to allow each other privacy when we want it. I don’t want you to think you’re just an open book and we don’t have to actually converse about anything.»
«You’re right. I love you and I want to share my life with you, but sometimes random thoughts are embarrassing and I don’t want them automatically broadcast to you.»
«I agree. I’ll see you in the morning, Jaime. Let’s see if our investigation reveals anything.»
Trayce
“Trayce, this is really good,” Ms. Dorn said on Monday in a school across town. “I’m honestly impressed. The sensitivity and understanding you wrote into this mother and daughter relationship was heartfelt. And the tragedy so sad. You see? You didn’t need to camp in someone else’s yard at all.”
“Thank you, ma’am.” Trayce was pleased with the praise and thought her story was, in fact, good. But it had really hurt to write it. The story of the little girl losing her father was too near to Trayce’s experience. The mother was written as she wished her mother had been. The mother in the story was heartbroken, but her first concern was her little girl and how to make the transition easier for her.
Trayce’s mother had held it together for only as long as it took to bury her husband. Even the night after the funeral, Trayce had seen her staring vacantly at the TV with a drink in her hand. She wondered if her mother had always had a drinking problem kept in check by her father, or if the blow had been so crippling to her that she could just no longer function.
Trayce saw a counselor, but the counselor had seemed bored by the story of losing her father. The counselor felt Trayce was a teenager now and should be able to deal with tragedy. When Trayce quit seeing the counselor, her mother quit going to counseling as well. Trayce lost herself in writing again. Her mother lost herself in booze.
Trayce had two ideas for new stories. The first featured an old man who fancied himself a detective. His imagination was filled with dangerous adventures while his reality was focused on a couple of strippers who played along with him. He used a cane and imagined it was a sword. In his world he could simply stab a villain, even if the villain was shooting at him. She’d begun making notes about what kind of mystery she might create for him to solve.
The old man was almost a comic character with a number of butt jokes and fart jokes, but he was also a sweet and sympathetic man who had a hard life and had no one else in it but the people he met in the clubs. She wanted to write him with the same empathy and sensitivity she had used for the little girl, but wasn’t sure how to proceed.
Into this, another scene had inserted itself. It had begun to filter into her consciousness over the weekend when an imagined kiss had moved her so much, she’d involuntarily whispered ‘Wow!’ The premise for the story was a pretty simple high school romance. Except it was really sexy. So far, all she’d managed to jot down were notes about how good holding hands and kissing felt. She’d been so caught up in the fantasy that she’d laid in bed playing with herself for over an hour Saturday night. She could just feel their lips as they pressed together, the instant tingling of her privates as their tongues touched and the thrill when he caressed her breast.
I need a boyfriend, Trayce thought. That would surely cure her of the romance of having a boy touch her. She’d be fighting him off all the time.
She’d dated a few times. The boys were disgusting things who just wanted sex. At least that was her take on them. They wanted a payback for every nice thing they did. They all had a goal, it seemed, and her legs were the goalposts. They just needed to get their balls between them and score.
Maybe she was gay. She liked girls, but had a hard time imagining putting her face… there. Now that she was eighteen, she thought she’d just walk into Lovers Package and buy a couple of toys. She’d glanced in the window once or twice and it didn’t seem like there were many men around. The clerks were women. Maybe they could give her some advice.
In the meantime, she supposed she’d try to work on the old man story. She needed to imagine what it felt like to be old. How old was he? Forty? No, she thought he was really old, like maybe sixty. If he was only sixty, though, wouldn’t he have a job? Maybe he was ancient—like seventy-five. Did men that old still go to strip clubs? She didn’t think men that old even cared about women or sex. Why would he be at a club like that?
Trayce puzzled over her problem all day.
Jaime and Keira
Keira and Jaime met before school to put a strategy in place for surveying how many people might have the ‘gift’ of hearing other’s thoughts, and how many people regularly had sex.
«So, like we did in the park, we just sort of skim the people we meet to see if they are aware of other people’s thoughts,» Keira said.
«Do you think we should try to communicate with anyone?»
«Only if you suspect they are actively receiving. And do it some really subtle way.»
«Like just make a suggestion that they look up?» Jaime asked.
«That might work. I have to work out the probabilities in my statistics class. We’d better get to lit and start checking.»
They headed to their first period class and attempted to survey the people in it, but the class was interesting and engaging. No one was actively broadcasting or apparently listening mentally.
They split up, promising to meet up again at noon.
Jaime thought he had a hit in his Design Technology class when he spotted a classmate looking up when he suggested it. In reading the kid’s thoughts, though, it turned out that he was a little OCD and there was a ceiling tile that was slightly crooked. It drove the kid crazy and he couldn’t take his eyes off the misplaced tile when he was in that classroom. He was not absorbing a lot from the instructor, but he did have an interesting project plan he was drawing up for the class.
At lunch, the couple was flooded by images and information from the students in the busy room. It was impossible to break in on anyone’s thoughts in the room with a subliminal command.
By Thursday, Jaime and Keira had amassed a lot of data on how many in their class of 700 had sex at some time in their past, how many had sex in the past three months, and surprisingly, how many had sex over the past weekend. But neither had discovered a person who could communicate mentally like they could.
Looking into the lives of their classmates also resulted in a few images that were hard to shake. Some of those they shared with each other and enjoyed the result.
«Josie and Brent had sex six times last weekend!» Jaime said. «And all they could think about was when and where they can do it during the week before they repeat the whole adventure next weekend.»
«I think they win for most sexually active couple,» Keira agreed. «Even when you see them in the hall, they’re hanging on each other. I have to think they are almost psychically linked, like we are.»
«I don’t think so. But his images of her and the feelings he had when they were making love were… inspiring. And she was just as into it as he was. Neither of them wants anyone else, but they want each other all the time.»
«Did you…?»
«Yes. I couldn’t help it. The experience of the two of them combined was compelling.»
«So did I. Compelling is a good word for it. I nearly had to go stroke myself in the restroom between classes after I read them!»
«I did manage to get home. And I had no live connection to them while I relived some of their memories. It was still pretty breathtaking.»
«Do you think I’ll love having you in me as much as she loves having him in her?»
«I hope so. But she was on the verge of coming every time they touched. That might be distracting!»
«So, how many did we find who had sex over the past weekend?»
Jaime opened his notebook where he had inscribed a coded list of incidents they observed and the count of those who had ever had sex, compared to those who had recent sex.
«Of the people who had sex over the weekend, ten were in couples, like Brent and Josie, and it wasn’t the first time they’d made it. Of the other seven, six were in relationships with people I never saw or surveyed. Only one of them had sex for the first time with their partner—not the first time ever.»
«And the seventh person?»
«He went out of town to a party at a college he’s thinking of attending. He had sex with a girl he’d never met before and didn’t know her name.»
«He couldn’t remember who he slept with?»
«It was more like he never did find out. He didn’t even have a clear image of her face in his mind; just of the two of them rutting on a sofa and then losing track of each other.»
«That blows my mind,» Keira said. «Could you ever do that?»
«I don’t think so. I know I couldn’t with you. If I didn’t know you, I think I’d still have a really good picture in my mind of any girl I made love to.»
«Yeah. Like Josie,» Keira chuckled as the image of the intense lovers filled both their minds. «That’s a hard image to shake. I mean, he saw her from absolutely every angle. I think they’re pretty committed to each other.»
«So, did you find any trace of anyone who could head talk?» Jaime asked.
«No. I even checked out your friend Emerson. I wasn’t spying exactly, but I wanted to make sure she wasn’t just hiding from you. Negative.»
«I agree. I dropped in on her thoughts in class, just to make sure. She was not among those who had sex this weekend, but had in the past three months. She just got back from Paris in mid-August.»
«And it’s mid-November.»
«Which reminds me: I have a doctor’s appointment Friday. I’m getting a brain scan. Think I have one?»
«Silly. I wonder if it will show anything abnormal.»
«I doubt it, but I’ll know. I can read Doc Roberts pretty well. He’s run this test on me before.»
«Saturday you can fill me in. It’s my turn to host you after the play.»
«You’re inviting me to your house?»
«Yes. And my parents will be gone this weekend. That doesn’t mean we’re going all the way, but I think it means we’ll have an opportunity for a little more exploration. Jaime, I feel almost as horny for you as Josie and Brent feel for each other.»
«I’m trying not to let that control me,» Jaime said. «I still think we need to go slow and easy for a while.»
«We’ll make it slow. I’m not sure it will be easy.»
Jaime and Doc Roberts
Friday was a long day in the clinic for Jaime. David accompanied him and interpreted for the technician conducting the test when Jaime needed to communicate. He’d been told that a sign language interpreter would be provided, but Jaime’s quick scan of the nurse told him he’d encountered this interpreter before and did not trust her to interpret to him or for him.
David agreed when Jaime explained he’d seen the name on the nurse’s clipboard. David would only be needed during the time when Jaime could not have his computer at hand. The tech was afraid the extra computer in the room might somehow alter the test results.
In addition to the EEG, there had been cognition tests that Jaime had to respond to. These were pretty elementary as far as Jaime was concerned. They were used mostly to detect learning disabilities, ADHD, and similar problems. In Jaime’s case they tried to identify any errors in communication signals between the brain and the mouth. As had always been the case, since Jaime did not speak at all, the tests proved inconclusive.
“Well, Jaime. I don’t see any abnormality in your EEG at all,” Doc Roberts said.
“I didn’t feel anything,” Jaime responded, using his computer text-to-speech engine.
“That is a very clever device. And you say you invented it?”
“Invented is too strong a word. Text-to-speech is a known technology. I programmed this engine to give myself a unique voice.”
“I have to say that when I hear it, I can well imagine it is your actual voice. Want to try replicating it aloud?” Doc asked.
“I’ve tried. Sorry.”
“Okay. So here are the results of the video electroencephalogram. I could just read the graphs, but I admit to a weakness for color pictures. The pictures reveal nothing that would be considered an abnormality. A few of your brainwaves are slightly higher than the norm, but they are still within the acceptable range. These would be considered pretty normal for a mind as creative as yours. Your intelligence is high, your school output is excellent, and your scientific inquiries are great. Those items would all point to the variance we see here,” Doc said. Either that or you’re a mind reader. Wouldn’t surprise me, but if you are, keep it to yourself.
Jaime carefully schooled himself to ignore the thought, but quickly noted what part of the videography triggered it. He would need to study this more closely in order to determine if it was, indeed, a description of his talent. In order to do that discreetly, he would need access to the equipment himself and he couldn’t see a likely path to getting that access unless he studied to become a tech himself.
That was an interesting thought. He hadn’t really decided a course of study for college, but had always assumed it would have something to do with computers.
“What do you recommend?” Jaime asked through the TTS.
“Well, if I were set on getting as much of your insurance money as I can, I’d recommend we do an MRI, an MEG, a PET scan, an ambulatory EEG, and a sleep study. Frankly, unless you want to become a lab rat, I don’t see the sense in any of them.” And I hope you don’t really want to be a lab rat. There are research foundations out there that would jump all over the opportunity to hook you up to scanners 24/7.
Doc Roberts’ internal monologue was so targeted to Jaime that he wondered if the man was a head talker himself. Jaime carefully kept his thoughts shielded.
“The EEG technology hasn’t changed much in a hundred years other than to add the video tomography to it. But it hasn’t changed much because it’s been dependable. MRI detection of problems undetected by EEG is only about ten percent. That could be a significant number for a patient who was experiencing an unexplained pain or had a high cancer risk, but it isn’t high enough to merit automatically ordering one just because the EEG is normal.”
“Well, I don’t think there’s any reason to order more tests. I was just really stressed out that night, working on a school project. You gave me some good exercises to relieve stress during my checkup last year. I should have been doing them more regularly,” Jaime typed.
“Yes, you should. Can I share your results and our conversation with your father?”
“Sure. I just wanted to see what it was like to act like an adult managing my own medical care.”
“Talk about it with him. He’s always been concerned about you. He wants what’s best for you.” He’s always wanted what’s best. What a burden to have shouldered when his wife died. He’s done well, though. Jaime is a fine young man.
Please feel free to send comments to the author at devon@devonlayne.com.
