CHAPTER ONE
A kind lab assistant struggled to work through the noise, unable to focus on the patterns but trying to ignore the distraction. After a while, he could stand no more and gave up, rising to walk toward a steel cage, rattled by anxiety. The specimen from Batch Bravo appeared deeply agitated and Sam could no longer bear to watch her distress. The nametag over the door read, “Felicima,” but the man paid it no mind. He knew this monkey well.
“What’s wrong, girl?” he asked in a soothing voice. In his native South Korea, Sam Nakala had been a renowned vocalist and sang a traditional song for his tiny friend. She accepted his melodic tones and quieted immediately. Placing slender fingers through the cage door, Felicima reached until Sam let her squeeze his own during the melody. After only a few moments she had quieted.
“I have to return to work,” he told her. “I have a lot of data and you take too much of my time.” She quickly retracted her tiny hands, making a show of displeasure by facing the rear of the cage. Sam watched for a moment, but she refused to turn around and chose instead to sulk. “Have it your way,” he said.
He returned to his task. Two other monkeys were comfortably strapped in highchairs specially designed for prolonged examination. Instruments connected tiny hats worn upon their heads to a monitor displaying measurements. Sam focused on brain wave patterns, paying close attention to the gamma level. So far there had been no responses, but something on the screen caught his eye.
He scrolled through the data until he found the moment when he had sung. Both specimens had reached the higher frequencies during the song.
He smiled and softly remarked, “You liked my singing too, didn’t you?” He jotted a message in the log, careful to mark the time. “It’s about time you Batch Alpha kids reached gamma,” he told them.
Across the room Felicima shouted again, angering the rest of Batch Bravo who joined in the chorus. The readings on the monitor spiked in alpha waves, wiping out any hope for another gamma response. It was obvious to the scientist these two were irritated with their angry cousins and further observations would prove fruitless. “Okay,” he said, “that’s enough for today.” He removed the instruments and carefully retrieved each monkey, placing them in their cages one at a time.
He checked his watch. It was almost midnight and his girlfriend Mi-Jung would Face Time him soon from Seoul. While he had been working, she had texted something about problems with her student visa. The message seemed urgent. He carefully locked each of the cages and powered down the equipment before hurrying from the lab. The heavy door made an audible click as it locked behind him.
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The man with the pretty voice locked the door behind him. As soon as he departed, every member of Batch Alpha stood in their cages. Tiny wisps of air curled like tendrils between the bars and found their way into every lock. These wiggled around until each mechanism tripped. The doors swung open.
The humans called the first to emerge Oscar, but he had a different name. His followers called him King. He sent a single thought to his pack. Gather the food while I work. Each nodded and silently hurried to serve their master.
King walked toward the computer. He detested the machine used by the humans to steal his thoughts. This happened every day, forcing his kind to submit both their thoughts and secret language to the machine. Usually they refused, keeping their brains quiet and calm. Sometimes they sent erratic data, chirping away in their minds the way Batch Bravo screamed for attention. They tried everything, really, if it interrupted the goals of their captors.
He passed the cage of the one called Felicima and looked inside. She stared defiantly unlike her brethren who cowered in fear. He would not kill her tonight but someday he might. He focused on the air around her, braiding it into wisps and binding her hands and feet. She protested and he gagged her mouth with invisible wadding. Her loud obnoxious mouth, he thought.
He sent a command to his brothers. Open this cage and draw Felicima out. Do with her as you please, he ordered. They complied and soon their hard fists pounded soft flesh, careful not to break bones but hard enough to send a message. If a rhesus monkey could smile, then King would have beamed with pleasure at her pain. He let out a laugh so evil it sounded nearly human.
He arrived at the computer and powered it on the way he had so often seen his captors. He used Dr. Andalon’s login for this task because he liked the password. He typed Strength0fM1nd. It did not take long for him to find Sam’s entry. Two subjects responded to audio stimuli by reaching full gamma. I believe they may have communicated telepathically given the brief, albeit exact frequency. We should investigate further and determine whether conversation occurred.
When Sam was singing, both King and Lynette had been drawn into the relaxing melody. They had connected their thoughts and traveled briefly to the other realm. Sam had witnessed their lapse and logged the irregularity. Of course, the assistant had no idea what the data meant.
King deleted the note and opened the email browser, accessing the clipboard and pasting a previous reply. The message read, Thank you, Sam. The data shows no obvious pattern. Mere coincidence.
Finished with his task, he saw that the others had distributed the food to Batch Alpha cells, leaving Felicima on the floor of her own. He took a moment to cruelly squeeze her bindings of air tighter, cutting off circulation. He gave her a final kick to the midsection and then closed the door, leaving her to weep silently in a cold and lonely cage. Only then did he remove the wisps of air.