Book 3: Disclosure
BOOK 3: DISCLOSURE / CH. 1:FAMILIAR FACES
FRIDAY, 18TH AUGUST
Intrepid reporter, foreign correspondent for Nation Wide News, household name and interviewer of the famous, Robert (Bob) McDaniel hesitated. Did he really want this assignment? He knew it was going to be his last. He could have just retired early, with his health as it was. Too much excitement in his early life, said his doctor. Albert, his editor, had been his convincing self. What better way to go out than with such a scoop?
So the problem was, what? Too dramatic? Too crazy? No. Be honest, Bob, It was too scary.
Albert had been convinced. But no one had actually made him walk into the lion's den, had they? A reporter, knowingly entering a place where people could know what he was thinking? What he wasn't saying? Who his sources were? That was scary. So, there in front of the Institute's entrance he stood, hesitating.
A young woman came out, smiling. With crutches. He recognized her, knew he knew her, but the context just didn't match. She should be somewhere else. What was her name?
“Hello, Mr. McDaniel. I saw you out here admiring the view and thought I'd come and welcome you in. Bit of a fortress, isn't it?”
“It is. And I know I know you, but you're not in the right context, so no name. Very embarrassing.”
She laughed. “I'm sure you say that to all the girls. Sorry, I know the feeling and I'm not at all insulted. Do you want me to give the game away, drop you some hints, or let you work out who I am all on your own?”
Bob considered her easy, teasing manner. She obviously considered him a trusted acquaintance. “I'm going to kick myself if I don't, aren't I? We've met a lot of times before.”
“Oh yes. Lots. So, can I give you just one clue, uncle Bob?” The uncle Bob and the wheedling tone did it of course. ‘Just one story, uncle Bob?’ was a line he'd heard at many airports. “Karen! What are you doing here? Not asking for another story, I hope.”
“Actually, I've been writing briefings for you about the staff here. Who's who, what they're famous for, if anything, what they do here, brief history. Basically all the stuff you're not allowed to publish. Actually, I put the fame stuff in a separate envelope, so you can have fun working it out if you want to.”
“So you're here, presumably your mother knows, and she's not worried about security leaks?”
“The Institute's always been a place where secrets were safe, Bob. We're not going to snoop. Can we go in? I'd rather not say more out here in public.”
“You said 'we'?”
“Yes. I said we. Gloves -” raising her hands into view so he could see them “are the most wonderful invention and avoid most accidental overhearing.”
“Your mother's always worn them. Do you mean to say...?”
“No. Mother can't. I couldn't until God decided to give me the gift. But she knew someone who could. Can we go in? Really I shouldn't be out here this long. Someone might see me.” She started edging back to the Institute.
“Oh, of course.” Then he whispered, “Kidnap risk?”
“Yes.”
Once they were inside she added, “It was a botched kidnapping attempt that got me this leg — in plaster until the day before yesterday. Come to the small conference room, I might as well tell you about it now. Unless you want to meet everyone first?”
“No, by all means. I presume it's relevant to more than your crutches?”
“Oh yes. I think you might have been told about someone who was convinced by an A.I. that the last human counsellor had retired?”
“My editor let it slip. He was embarrassed because he'd been told he shouldn't have told anyone.”
“It's OK. You were always going to get the whole story. It was me. A very careful editing of all the databases at the university. Anywhere you looked, not a reference to a living counsellor. Biographies altered, convincing articles bemoaning the fact, you name it.”
“That's a lot of work.”
“Well, I'm sure that some of it was automatic, but yes. A lot of work. So when I told my medical program that I was fed up with being nervous in the dark, I got lured into talking to a rogue A.I. I checked up on the details, but of course my wrist unit checked the same databases. After all, they're supposed to be the same everywhere. And so I was surprised, but all the evidence pointed in the same direction.”
“What happened?”
“It sent me exploring down a disused rail tunnel, giving me a map of the tunnels and marking the safe paths to take. It said that this was perfectly safe, and if I could summon up my courage to do this, then I'd be well on my way to recovery. All very reasonable sounding.”
“So you went down, followed the paths, ran from your attackers and broke your leg? Or did they drop you?”
“Nope. I just got lost. I've got a pretty bad sense of direction. I forgot which way up I'd been holding the map, missed a turning, got lost, panicked, ran, tripped and broke my leg. Apparently the people who should have picked me up got their timing wrong and totally missed me. Oh, I didn't say, the A.I. had also told me to leave my wrist unit at home and I didn't even have my panic button with me, can you believe it?”
“Ouch.”
“So, reality dawned. I was due to die of thirst in a few days, if the shock of the broken bone didn't get me first. No way my voice could carry far enough, no way to send a signal. So I prayed, and begged God for forgiveness and that somehow he'd let someone hear my cries for help.”
“Did I time my entrance right?” Kate said from the door. “I'm Kate, director here, and God in his mercy had just given me a strange new ability. I heard Karen's cry and we managed to get some soldiers sent to rescue her.”
“This doesn't sound much like the description of thought-reading I had from my editor. I thought that needed touch.”
“Well spotted. Karen, I and a few others have been given what we call ‘the gift.’ The normal version we call ‘the power.’ The power is genetic, and a useful trick if you have it. The gift is something God gives to people, and it's a scary responsibility.”
“So, you've got the gift but you're writing up about the power? I don't understand.”
“If someone has the gift, they have the power also. We'll be submitting a paper or two to Nature about the power. The one about the gift goes to a theological journal, we guess, but we've not quite decided which one yet.”
“And you're telling me this now, because...?”
“Because we felt it best to tell you straight, not to hide things from you. We thought we might need to hide the gift from you, only talk about the power, but everyone agreed that it was time to let the church know about this spiritual gift.”
“Everyone being precisely who?”
“Everyone with the gift around the world — about fifty people.”
“So there are fifty people with the gift, but two, three here with it? I'm guessing three because you said we.”
“Actually five in the building with it now. We did have another reason for asking that you come today, and for laying this all out before you — we thought it would be good to do this before I vanish for a fortnight.” Kate smiled in anticipation.
For some reason it reminded Karen of the Cheshire cat. “The reason for Kate vanishing until all you can see is her smile is that she's getting married tomorrow morning.” Karen specified.
“Congratulations! Who's the happy groom?”
“An old friend from my university days. I just happened to meet him about two hours after turning to Christ and getting the gift into the bargain. God's timing, I guess.”
‘Wow. And I can't write any of this stuff?”
“If you anonomise it sufficiently, it should be fine.” Kate reassured him.
“So, you're convinced that the gift is a spiritual gift, but the power is genetic?”
“Yes, and people with the gift have the power too. Except I've got no genetic reason I know of to have the power, so I guess God tweaked something,” Kate clarified.
“We're getting close to knowing the way that the power works — a combination of sensory triggers which the brain can somehow interpret into anticipated
actions, words and images. The gift seems to be rather beyond science, as you might expect.”
“Beyond science?”
“Well, if you can find a scientific method to locate an individual on the other side of the world, down to where they are in the room, where the room is in the house, and so on, just by knowing their name, I'm sure Security would be interested,” Karen said. “From a scientific perspective, we can access an unreasonable quantity of knowledge in far too much detail. If we were picking up something physical from the person, then there'd be such a mess from the other billions in the way that we shouldn't get a signal. But we can, through the grace of God.”
“Thank you for that explanation. I must say, you're very open about your relationship with God. Urm, I never have been.”
“I didn't find anything about your faith on the net, except your baptism record and which church you were a member of from twelve years ago,” Karen said.
“No. I'm surprised you actually found that much. In this job, I don't know, there's an unwritten rule that you don't ask or tell. I've never felt I must say anything in public, but I've never been entirely happy hiding my faith either.”
“Perhaps,” Kate suggested gently, “if this series of reports is to be your last, if you dropped the odd ‘as a Christian, I see...’ before you gave an assessment of the impact of what you've witnessed, it wouldn't hurt your career much, and might help us not get labeled as devil worshippers.”
“I'll think about it. I presume you knew about my faith from your gift?”
“No,” Kate said. “We wouldn't have seen sufficient justification to pry like that. But we were curious. So I set Karen the job and eventually she came up with those details.”
“I must admit that I was sure there was something to find, so I kept looking. Mummy knows lots of secrets.”
“Ah. The more human sort of prying being more acceptable?”
“Mummy knows about the gift. I asked her advice about telling you, not knowing if you were going to be scared off if we told you, or reassured by the source. We can't talk about the gift without talking about the Giver. She told me you believed.”
“And all fifty of you are committed Christians as the world understands the phrase?”
“I'm not sure about the world, but as the evangelical churches use the phrase, yes. Though there are elements who might be somewhat upset if they heard that one of our number is a catholic monk.”
“I've met genuine faith in that tradition too, but yes, I know what you mean. Some churches would prefer to risk the unity of the faith rather than accept differences. Out of interest, how do you cope with the language barrier? Surely knowledge of English can't be a criteria.”
“Oh, absolutely not. But the gift is beyond language too. We hear what they say and the meaning drops into our skulls too.”
“And the power?”
“Purely human, I'm afraid. Even if the whole earth had the power, language learning would still be needed.”
“I'm sure that the language teachers of the world will breathe a sigh of relief.”
Kate laughed. “Or moan that every year they need to teach yet another bunch of kids who think there's nothing worse than learning languages.”
“I enjoy learning languages!” protested Karen.
“Well, you did grow up knowing that the whole world doesn't speak English, didn't you?” Bob said.
“True. Would you like time to read the blurbs I've written, catch your breath and process everything we've told you, or just come and meet the happy crowd?”
“I think I'm going to have time later to read and process it all, so by all means, let's do the introductions.”
“Oh, let me give you your I.D.” Kate said. “The computer will want to see it when you come in next time.”
“I don't need to pose for a photo then?”
“You did that while Karen came out to meet you. This is a pretty secure facility.”
“Big glass windows though,” Bob pointed out.
“Forcefield glass,” corrected Kate.
“Oh!”
“And the computer system beats embassy standard,” Karen added heading for the door.
“Alert! Staff member Karen, delay 30 seconds to avoid intercept,” announced the computer, quietly, but right on cue.
“See what I mean?” Karen said, with a smile.
“What was that about?” Bob asked.
“There's a client on the loose who shouldn't see me here. If it can, the computer warns me out of the corridors when they're coming, or keeps them out of the corridors if it can't get me to move.”
“So you can be in the same building but never meet? Clever.”
“Very.”
“And this client? Presumably they know about me?”
“They know about you, and this particular one would probably remember you and be very happy to swap stories of old times with you. Just don't mention me, OK? There's not really much risk, but they have no need at all to know I'm working here.”
“Someone I've interviewed then?”
Kate told him the client's name.
“Ah. Yes. I understand. Not exactly who your parents would want you sitting down for a chat with.”
“I can be polite if I have to, but since this isn't some kind of diplomatic function where I'd be expected to turn up, it really is best that he not see me.”
“What a complicated life you have to lead, young lady.”
Karen just smiled sweetly in return.
“Intercept risk now below one percent. Client has departed.”
“Excellent,” Kate said. “Let's go meet everyone.”
----------------------------------------
“Everyone, let me introduce Bob McDaniel. I've known him since I was about five, but please don't ask him for stories about me. He's agreed to be our tame reporter, but as you know that's a bit like saying a tame lion. So Ivan, please keep the skeletons inside the cupboard.”
“But zey vant to get out, Karen! Can't you hear zem scratching at the doors?” he said with his mad scientist laugh then he turned pale and turned to Janet. “She asked me to do that, Janet. I forgot to check it was OK, just this once.”
“It's OK, Ivan,” Karen said, “I'd checked it was OK with Janet before asking if you'd mind. Bob, Ivan — as you've just witnessed — is an excellent character actor if horror is your genre, but he's also supposed to not be acting any parts for the time being, which is difficult for him. Next to Ivan, you see Janet. As far as I know they're not officially engaged yet. Beside Janet is George, my fiancé, and next to George you see our newly-weds Sarah and John Williams.”
“What is this? Is the whole staff on the way to matrimony?” Bob asked.
“No, Bob,” John replied, shaking Bob's hand, “only the eight of us as far as I know.”
“John will be acting director until I'm back,” Kate said, taking over the introductions. “Beside John is Ed, our book-keeper, and then there's Horrace who works with Ivan in designing and making interesting toys for Janet to use on patients. Janet is our world class medical imaging expert, with speciality in brain trauma.” So the introductions went on round the room.
“Karen didn't say, but she's only here for the summer, and George isn't here, officially. Or rather I should say that if anyone should in any way let on that he's here then they are officially in great big trouble with the nice people from witness protection.”
“Ah. I understand.”
“I would like to add,” George said, “that I've found the people at witness protection to be very nice indeed, particularly the way they've allowed me to spend my time until the trial near Karen here. I'm also thankful that I'm not locked up somewhere with nothing to do but am able to do useful work here.”
“What is your work?” Bob asked.
[We've told him about the gift and the power, George,] Karen thought.
“I'm a test subject. We're discovering the limits of the power.”
“George is a little unique in our group, having actually grown up with the power,” Sarah specified. “I should have done, but before my parents died my father made a kind of suppressor which blotted out the signal. I wore it too long and it took a lot of analysis before I ended up here.”
“Sarah was our first confirmed case of anyone with unusual mental powers,”
Kate added. “The Institute had only been looking for about two centuries. She's also rather unique in that she's the only person we know who can sense the attitude of a crowd.”
“So why did it take two hundred years for anyone to turn up? I've seen the adverts you used to run.”
“There are basically two types of people with the power, Bob. Good guys and bad guys. There aren't many in the middle. It's a polarising thing,”
George explained. “Good guys try to pretend they don't have it, except maybe with family members, and try to avoid physical contact with people which would make them overhear thoughts. They tend to be loaners, suspicious of people, because if they have a relative with the power then they've been warned not to let anyone find out, and even if they haven't then they've heard the expression witch-hunt. They've also heard the self-talk of the people around them and know what a nasty bunch of sinners people really are. They're under no illusions about people being good deep down inside, and tend to seek out churches where they at least meet people who acknowledge their need of help. A bad guy is usually a criminal, often psychopathic. They use their power to gain money, power, influence. They can tell people what they want to hear and so are often very persuasive. And they can gain plenty of evidence for blackmail.
“Good guys who've met older good guys with the power will almost certainly have been warned of bad guys. When two thought hearers are touching, they can send pictures to each other. It can be a sort of game or art or a gift.
A bad guy might use that ability to send horrific images. A good guy can allegedly have their mind so filled with horrors that it would send them mad. I'm not sure if that's exaggeration, but it could certainly be a form of torture. So, an advert to the bad-guys would look like an attempt to take their edge away, and the good-guys won't want to risk meeting a bad-guy there by chance. Actually, I wouldn't be surprised if some bad-guys had turned up, not actually disclosed what they learned, and instead used it as a way of getting secrets, passwords, addresses and so on that they could use or sell to their underworld contacts.”
“Wow. Thanks for that insight, George,” Bob said. “So what are the good guys going to do when you go public?”
“Hide as best they can and wait for the witch-hunts to start, I'd think.”
“And the bad guys are going to be annoyed.”
“Oh yes, I'm pretty sure we'll need to have the security gates up for a while. But it's that or stand idly by while the criminal minority continue to abuse their power,” Kate said with quiet determination. “We do have a fortress here. We have blast gates, force fields, our own generator. The building was designed to withstand a riot if necessary, and it's been upgraded to protect our clients from assassination attempts. What protects them will protect the staff also. The UN embargo on reporting comings and goings doesn't stop a spy from identifying individuals, but on the other hand, the computer systems designed to defend against an assassin also protect against a spy. As a secure facility, the computer has lens detectors and autonomous sleep gas release systems and will not permit a staff member or
client to be attacked.”
“How much of this is publishable knowledge?”
“Karen?”
“I don't think it's wise to spell it out in any detail, but in the context of something about the UN restrictions and the potential risk to clients it would be perfectly reasonable to talk in general about clients being safe inside from assassination attempts.”
“Once the court case is over, you could report about an incident recently when a youth was being chased by gang members and found refuge here,” Kate said. “Some of the video footage makes for good watching if you have a vindictive streak, like I do. I particularly like the bit when some of the gang members throw themselves full tilt against the forcefield glass and sort of do a cartoon-style splat against it. Comings and goings of armed thugs is not covered under the reporting ban.”
“I'd like to see that footage. Purely to judge its usefulness for inclusion in a report, of course.”
“How about we set up a lunchtime showing again?” Horrace suggested “It's been at least a week since the last one, and it is so full of comic moments.”
“Children, if you're not careful, the nice reporter will record your cheers and include them in the report as a soundtrack,” Kate warned.
“I wonder the manufacturers haven't asked for permission to use it in their adverts,” Ivan mused.
“It's still covered by rules of evidence, people,” Kate said. “But I have suggested to the sales manager that if he'd like to see his product in action from multiple angles, he attend the relevant trial. He said he'd try.”
“Would there need to be permission from the perpetrators to broadcast their downfall?” Ed asked.
“If it's unclassified evidence used in court, showing no injury to victims, then as long as their faces are obscured then it's fair game,” Bob said.
“It'd need to be edited to avoid identifying you, Kate. But I do love your calm commentary to the boy,” Janet said.
“I don't think the commentary should go out though,” Sarah said. “Or a soundtrack of cheers. We don't really want to come across as a bunch of immature school kids, surely. We're a respectable academic research and counselling organisation, after all.”
“Ohh, Mum, do we have to?” asked someone in the back, Sarah didn't see who.
“Welcome to the family, Bob,” Kate said, “you see us as we are. There are more higher degrees in this room than people, but if we exclude the notable exceptions like Janet and the five we were talking about earlier, then the average level of social maturity hovers somewhere below that of a teenage boy.”
The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.
Ed chipped in, “Did you hear that, boys and girls? Mum thinks we're improving!”
“It's the same in any close-knit group who've been through a lot together, Kate. Don't be too worried.”
“Oh, I'm not worried. I just make sure that Horrace and Ivan don't get anywhere near the clients,” Kate said.
“On that note, Bob, would you like to retire to the office we've set aside for you, or would you like Horrace and Ivan to show you their collection of interesting prototype brain scanners?” Karen offered.
“And in case you've forgotten, it's Friday, so pizzas at twelve thirty, everyone, in honour of our special guest and it being Friday,” Sarah announced as the meeting broke up.
----------------------------------------
“Am I missing something? What was that about pizzas?” Bob asked Karen in his office on the top floor.
“It's become a bit of a tradition. Friday is pizza for lunch day. They're very good.”
“Oh. I'd wondered what people do for lunch. No cafés near-by?”
“Other days people usually bring a packed lunch. Certain people have been known to eat while working in the lab, but that's frowned upon, crumbs not helping delicate circuitry to function well. If you want to escape the mad-house then I understand there's a café about ten minutes' walk away, or it's easy enough to call up a transport from the pool.”
“What do you do?”
“I'll be eating pizzas with the crowd, but normally I eat with George in his flat downstairs.”
“Ah. Meal and romantic conversation for two?”
“Not exactly. We try to avoid romantic topics, really. It's easier.”
“I'm now totally confused. You're engaged, looking forward to a life-long marriage, but you avoid romance?”
“I don't know if it's only couples with the gift, or if it affects people with the power too. Probably the latter. There's an emotional component. He feels what I feel and vice-versa. Now, just suppose that I love him and love that he loves me. And vice-versa. Put those two together and what do you think you might get?”
“Urm, a lot of love?”
“Emotional feedback, strong enough to blot out all thought. At John and Sarah's wedding, when they kissed, well, we didn't quite need buckets of water but the pastor made some jokes about us all going off to enjoy the reception and seeing if they were still there after the food was eaten. They didn't hear a word, or notice any significant time go past.”
“That's quite an expression of love and delight in each other.”
“Yes. Or in other words, quite a moral hazard until our wedding day.”
“All is explained. Basically romantic talk is about expressing love, but you two don't need to express your love to each other. You know it and experience it whenever you're near.”
“Yes. Nicely put.”
“Thank you, Karen, for being so open about this. I don't know how much is going to get into what I write, what I report on, but you've all made me so welcome. I'm glad I didn't bottle out.”
“You were thinking of it?”
“Oh yes. A reporter with sources to hide going to visit a place full of thought readers? Crazy idea.”
“Is that why you've not asked for a demonstration? Normally it's the first thing people ask for when we tell them.”
“Didn't I get one when Kate came in?”
“I don't think so. I think it's much more likely she was just waiting outside the door. I hadn't shut it after all.”
“Oh. Perhaps I would then. How do you normally demonstrate?”
“You think of how a song goes, or recite a poem to yourself, or mull over a question in the front of your brain. I take my gloves off and the touch of a finger is sufficient. Or we can both touch the same lump of metal. Same effect.”
“And I feel someone tickling my thoughts or what?”
“No. You feel absolutely nothing. You're broadcasting, I just happen to have a receiver.”
“So your technical description could make it possible to build a device to read thoughts?”
“Potentially, yes. Interesting medical applications, horrible civil liberty implications.”
“And the same device would do both. That's a horrible thought.”
“Yes. But actually, since you can easily recite nonsense or lies in your head, it's not so very much worse than being able to bug a bedroom, say.”
“Until every lift and bus and pavement has thought scanners.”
“At which point everyone becomes duplicitous by nature or the glove industry becomes a national treasure.”
“Praise be to God for gloves!”
“Yes. The thing that concerns me is Sarah's version of it. No contact necessary and she can pick up the feeling of a crowd. That suggests there's something which people transmit which doesn't need contact.
Normally her version of it's hard on her actually. Manifests as a bad headache. If one is the power and the other is the gift, then Sarah has the pain. On the other hand, she says that whole-hearted public worship is the most beautiful thing she could imagine.”
“Interesting. Would you also demonstrate the gift to me?”
“That's a tricky one. I can. But it's not a toy. I recently demonstrated it in a way I thought was safe and immediately regretted it. I didn't think and invaded someone's privacy even by looking at only the most superficial level. I'd rather not without due cause.”
“But if I can give you due cause? Say I thought that there was someone in trouble?”
“Then if you'll submit to me checking the truth of what you tell me, then I can find someone anywhere on the planet, tell what they're thinking and feeling. Equally, I can find people by category so if you needed to know if someone is a prisoner I could find where they were and then see if there were prisoners there as a second step.”
“Even if that means exposing my contacts. OK, right. There's someone I know, name of Eliza. Unfortunate background; her mother is dead and her father has recently been arrested, again. But, she told some friends of mine a while ago that her father had invited her to a foreign country for a holiday together, and they've just told me they havn't seen her since. But if her father's been getting himself arrested, then he can't be with Eliza, so who invited Eliza to the foreign country? It's not very much to go on, but I'm suspicious.”
“Bob, is her father by any chance Roland Underwood?”
“Yes. How...?”
“Eliza was kidnapped, but is now rescued and fine. Mummy didn't know she existed until last Saturday. Roland had been claiming he was being blackmailed so we instantly checked. She actually managed to escape before she could be rescued, but some UN soldiers still went out to meet her. Good job too, she was almost out of fuel.”
“So if I'd known about your gift and asked you about this a week ago...”
“You'd have had a job. I was visiting home.”
“So much for my demonstration.”
“It would have been a good one. A very due cause. I'm sure you reporters have a rumour network. I'll check with the others but I don't think we'd object to the occasional, ‘So and so seems to have vanished suspiciously, have they been kidnapped?’ query. Not every missing person report, please, but cases where there is reasonable suspicion of foul play. From my point of view, that's one of the reasons for going public. We have this God-given gift, but so often we're afraid of using it because we'll be found out, or people who need help aren't asking for it because they have no idea help is possible. We don't want to put the police out of a job, but you know, this gift could save a lot of people pain.”
“Have you thought of looking for kidnapped people as a category?”
“Very obvious question that hasn't ever occurred to me, despite recent events. Excuse me if I tune out for a bit.” Bob saw her eyes glaze over.
Karen decided to ask everyone.
[Everyone, I have a question. Has anyone ever looked for kidnapped people as a category? Across a country, say? Once we go public, or for those of us who are already known to the authorities, is there any reason not to?]
The answers came in. In some countries the numbers would be overwhelming. Hagar of course could report what she'd done. It was the closest, but slightly more specific. There was discussion. If done regularly, then criminals would change tactics to something worse maybe. Police forces could become lazy and the gifted take their place. An everyday miracle is taken for granted. But yes, it would be possible in most places, and opinion seemed to be in favour of it as a demonstration when the paper on the gift went public. Enoch pointed out the implications for police forces. It could prove very difficult in countries where there were lots of victims. But yes. It was worth a try.
[Thank you, my brothers and sisters. Do you know we have a trusted reporter here? He will not name names or reveal identities, but we are explaining to him about the power and the gift. He will be reporting about them when we publish. May I tell him about this discussion? It was his idea to look for kidnapped people as a category.]
The consensus was yes. [We are not a secret society in any sense. We are merely people who want to help without getting lynched. Tell him that also, if you wish.]
“Bob, I have an answer for you,” Karen said, returning her focus to the room.
“You were gone about three minutes.”
“Is that all? I'd expected ten at least, given everything we talked about.”
“We?”
“Everyone gifted, awake and distractable.”
“Big discussion then.”
“Fairly. Twenty or so. Net result of the discussion: Something similar happened back home, as you probably have worked out, but that was more specific. No other people have such a good link with the authorities as exists here and there, but once we go public, then maybe through IHM as clearing house or through direct contact, then they're all willing to try, as a demonstration to the authorities. In some countries there're going to be so many that the police won't be able to respond, but in most places it should be possible.”
“And you're going to wait until then?”
Karen checked how Kate was getting on.
“There is a problem. If we foil every kidnap at three o'clock on Fridays, then that becomes a deadline when the criminals will kill. If we solve every kidnap as it happens, then the criminals will find another way of getting their money, police forces will become lazy and wait for the regular miracle. They'll take it for granted. But on the other hand, if we could help but don't, that's not right either. But in answer to your question, no, we're not going to wait. Kate's on the phone right now to Security.”
That set him back. “So quick?”
“Wouldn't you, if you found out that there were three kidnapping victims in the country and you knew where they were? A modified quote from a friend of mine: We're not thought police, we're not a secret society, we're just people who want to help without getting lynched. In this case help means to assist setting a few captives free.”
“But you don't think you'll put the police out of a job, or make them lazy?”
“We could be thought police, in which case we'd be assassination targets for a whole wide section of the underworld, not to mention everyone who wants to live in freedom. We'd end up living in worse fear of discovery than we do now. So, we're not going to do the police out of a job. I don't believe that this is why we've been given the gift. We should be available to people as a last resort, for emergencies, for finding people trapped after an earthquake. We are going to exercise our judgement in how we help and when. We're not going to hide away or avoid every risk. In the last ten days I've told something like twenty-five people about my gift. I decided it was necessary. I have no control over who they tell, but I trust them not to.”
“And if that trust is misplaced? If they tell people that the ambassador's daughter has the gift?”
“Then I could take up permanent residence in a safe house, which I'd absolutely hate, or become a public face for the gifted and we can see how long it is before I'm assassinated. I'm sort of used to that risk anyway, with my upbringing.”
From the doorway, George corrected her, “Martyred, Karen. If we're killed for an expression of our faith, which the gift surely is, then I'm pretty sure the term is martyrdom.”
“Oooh, sign me up. That's so much more worthy,” Karen said, smiling.
“I don't really think it's a joke, Karen. On the other hand, if you're going to be standing up in public as a target, then I'll be right there with you. It wouldn't be right otherwise.”
“Thank you, George. Was there any reason you came up except to affirm that you want to be joined with me in death as well as life?” [{love}]
“A request from Kate, if you're finished with her, Bob?”
“I think I've got to write some notes and read Karen's briefing before pizza time. So yes, thank you, Karen.”
“Kate says Security has brought us a new client and would you show her around, please.”
“Oh, I'm now designated tour guide?”
“I think you'll want to talk to her, Karen. Her name is Eliza Underwood.”
Karen sprang up and rushed to the door, but crashed in a heap on the floor as she tangled her crutches. “Owww. I hate these crutches!”
“More haste less speed, beloved,” George chided, helping her up. “Just don't damage your leg, it's only been out of plaster two days! I want you to heal. She can wait a few more seconds. You know what the doctor said, take it easy and gradually increase the force you put on it. I don't think sprinting is what he had in mind.”
“Give me that crutch, George. Let's go and welcome her.”
----------------------------------------
Karen knocked on the small meeting room door and went in. “Hello. Eliza?”
“Hello.” Slightly shy. “You must be Karen, I heard about your leg. Your mother sends her love.”
“I'm very glad to meet you, Eliza. It's not every day you meet a cousin. Another relative is here too — Sarah's our third cousin, I'll introduce you.”
“Oh! I hadn't heard about that. Urm, your mother said that I should talk freely here... so let's get it into the open. I have what she called the power.”
[Then we'll need to make sure you know all about that too.] Karen sent her.
Eliza's eyes went wide.
“I have the gift. God gave it to me so I could call for help when I broke my leg. If only we'd thought you might have the power, we could have talked to you during your escape. Oh well. Oh, other people around to say hello to, if you want, include Bob McDaniel who's going to be doing some reporting about the Institute. He was just now asking me to check if you'd maybe been kidnapped.”
“A bit late.”
“Yes, but he didn't know about the gift until an hour or so ago.”
“And his first thought was of me? I hardly know him.”
“How did you meet?”
“I went to a church, soon after my mum's funeral. I wandered in, he was on the door greeting people. You know, hello, welcome, is it your first time, what's your name. I told him mine and he did a double take and then said he was sorry to hear of my mother's death, and he hoped I felt very welcome. And he meant it. That was the first time I'd been made to feel welcome as the first reaction to hearing my name. You know, by someone who knew who Dad is. I'm a bit of a mess where the whole family thing is concerned.”
“I can imagine. Mummy told me you study modern history? My fiancé George has some notorious relatives too. His full name's George Kray.”
“Uh. Wow, as in the one-family crime wave?”
“Yes. Some of his cousins are still at large and on the wrong side of the law. But not all. If his young cousin May keeps on at the rate she's going, I'm seriously considering nominating her for a post in government.”
“And would I be right in thinking that coming from you, that'd be very seriously considered?”
“Not as seriously as from Mummy, but probably more than if it came from most people, yes. One of the burdens of a high security clearance, I suppose.”
“Burdens?”
“I can't just say, ‘I think she'd do well,’ without people automatically assuming that I've put her through rigorous tests or something.”
“Or investigated the inner workings of her mind?”
“Oh don't please! I hadn't thought of that aspect.”
“What's it like?”
“Urm, what?”
“Knowing that you could peer into someone's head and know everything that makes them tick, or stretch your mind across the world and solve every crime.”
“It's not quite like that, Eliza. Take your power. Back home they'd call you a truth-sayer.”
“Yes, I'd heard. Fortunately they didn't know about it when I was kidnapped, or I'd never have known where they put the car keys.”
“But you wouldn't deliberatly listen to people next to you on a bus, would you?”
“No! That'd be invading their privacy.”
“And as a truth-sayer can you actually tell when someone’s lying to you?”
“It depends. No, not really, not unless they think something like, ‘I hope she'll believe that.’”
“I can hear or see those sorts of thoughts, without contact, anywhere in the world. I can also see the thoughts that lie behind them like ‘She's really precious to me and I don't want to upset her.’ I'm not sure of the range for those, but it's certainly further than a few hundred miles. If I'm close — a hundred metres or so — I can choose to see the thoughts that lie behind them, all the way down to, oh I don't know, what they believe God is like. And the other thoughts that are bouncing around in their head, like ‘I wonder what's for lunch today.’ But if they're not thinking about what they want to say to their mother then I can't see it. And as for solving crimes, I don't think I can find things or animals, only people. And I won't solve every crime. We're not thought police. I won't invade someone's thoughts except if they ask me, or they're in need of help. Though there's one exception to that.”
“What's that?”
“I can send to people with the power, but the inverse isn't true. If I'm going to have a mind to mind conversation with you across the world then I'm going to need to listen to your thoughts to know what you're thinking back at me. And how can you tell me it's OK to talk and for me listen in if I don't listen to your thoughts?”
“That makes sense. A bit intrusive, but yes, it's reasonable. But all this knowledge, it's all just available to you at will?”
“Yes. I don't need to ask God for the information, just reach out for it. So it's a terrible temptation to abuse it, to know that I have this ability fully at my command. I guess that what God gives He can take away, but God seems to have simply given us the keys to knowledge of good and evil. It's scary and demanding and it can kill us, but it comes with access to a place we call ‘the peace,’ which helps.”
“What's the peace like?”
“I'm not very good at this, but... would you like me to show you?”
“Show me?”
“Two people with the power can send and receive thought pictures to each other. Now, my visual memory is rubbish, but I'm getting better... No, forget it, I'll get George to show you instead, he's much better at this. Unless you'd prefer it to be Sarah. I want to introduce you to her anyway.”
“Urm... have you just given away the names of two other people who have the gift?”
“Yes. Is that a problem?”
“I rather thought you were staying low profile, keeping your heads down in the face of potential attack, say from people like my dad, and you're giving
out names as though they were on the church cleaning rota.”
“Eliza, you're not going to keep this up, are you?”
“What?”
“This attitude that says you're not trustworthy.”
“Why should I be worthy of trust, Karen?”
“Because you are.”
“That's not very good logic, Karen.”
“Oh, all right! I'm going to call an expert.” [Sarah! Can you come and meet another third cousin, please? Eliza, Roland's daughter. She's pointing out that I'm being unreasonably trusting. I think you're the expert in this area.]
[You feel she's completely trustworthy?]
[I'm sure she is.]
[Interesting! I'll bring John. She's here for counselling anyway, she might as well meet him.]
[I have another gut feeling, Sarah... Take a look, please.]
[OK, Karen. I'll check you out.]
Sarah focussed on Karen for a few seconds. She was right. There was a totally baseless trust of Eliza in her thoughts, just sort of sitting like a ball put in the middle of a garden. It wasn't built on other things, it just was. Karen had other thoughts surrounding it. How had it got there? Who had put it there? Was it from God, or herself? If it was from God, then was there a reason for it? And there were other thoughts. Another strong one was that Eliza could do with a dose of the peace. That was also sitting there enormously in her mind, only loosely connected to what Karen knew about her. [John, Kate, George. Please can you meet us in the small meeting room? Karen has an interesting mental landscape and I'm developing a theory about it. You don't want to miss this, if I'm right.]
[Don't you dare do anything before I'm there {smile}!] Kate ordered.
[Hello, Eliza,] Sarah thought to her, sending to the others too. [I'm Sarah. Just so you know, I've just checked on Karen's mental state. She's got a totally baseless trust of you, sitting in the middle of her brain. And when I say baseless, I mean it's not built on you being a relative or anything. It's just there. What I'd like you to do while I and the others come to the room is to think and pray a little about who could have put that thought there, and why. Don't bother answering me, I'm not listening to your thoughts.]
Eliza was a little shaken at this news and covered her head with her hands.
“I heard what Sarah said too,” Karen said. “It sounds like good advice. I'm going to tune out for a bit, OK?”
And as Eliza prayed, Karen sought peace and rested for a little. And as the weariness of her body and the pain of her bruised knee washed away, she was even more certain. Eliza with her broken self-image and wounds from the kidnapping needed the peace. Not just to know what it looked like, for that was a worthless imitation. And she prayed there that Eliza might know it truly.
----------------------------------------
Eliza was getting worried. “What's happened to Karen? She said she was going to tune out for a bit, then when I looked up from praying she was just slumped there and I can't seem to wake her!”
“She's fine, Eliza. I'm George by the way, welcome! Did she tell you about the peace?”
“Yes. Her mind is there?”
“Yes. Medically it's a strange state. Partial coma, but parts of the brain still working fine. As to what it's like... it's like having the peace of God which is better than understanding wash right over you.”
“The peace which guards your hearts and minds?”
“That's the one.”
“I think I might be jealous. I'd love to experience that sort of peace. Right now my mind is in a bit of a turmoil. No, I'll rephrase that. Since I've been rescued my mind has been in a massive turmoil.”
“That's perfectly normal. You've been through a lot,” Kate said, coming in, followed by Sarah and John.
“You've met me, so you can guess this is Sarah. John is the man with the titanium leg. Since I'm going to run away to married bliss tomorrow, I'm afraid that you'll have to do with John, at least until I'm back.”
“Thank you for the superlative recommendation, Kate,” John said with a smile.
“So, Sarah, would you like to tell us what's going round Karen's mind, since she's decided to opt out for the moment?” Kate asked.
“Well, I'd guess that she's enjoying the peace right now, Kate, but it's really very simple. Karen trusts Eliza completely. Eliza, could you tell us what you think about that?”
“It's just so totally crazy. My dad almost got her kidnapped into a forced marriage, by the sounds of it organised a torture spree across this city, and probably would still be causing chaos if he hadn't got lazy.”
“That's your dad, Eliza, not you,” Kate said, gently.
“OK, so what about me? The first day I was held captive, I prayed, asking that God would get me out of there before anything bad happened to me. The third day I prayed that even if I wasn't going to get out of there without a beating, then at least Ibrahim wouldn't rape me (he'd threatened to). The seventh day I prayed that I'd at least stay sane even if I did get raped. The fourteenth day I prayed that I wouldn't kill myself if I lost my sanity. The twenty-first day I prayed that whatever happened, I'd stay faithful. The twenty-sixth day I told God that if He'd help me to, then I'd serve Him heart, body, mind and soul. The twenty-eighth day they had an enormous argument about what to do now that Ibrahim was a prisoner and I got out of there through using my power against them and stealing a car, and as I was driving away I comforted myself with the thought that even if one of them did catch up with me on a motorbike I was driving a big heavy car and could probably crush him against a barrier or something and still make it to the city. How is that serving the Lord with all my heart, body, mind and soul? I'm just as much a self-serving piece of scum as my father. I'm just an untrustworthy, deceitful failure as a Christian and totally unworthy of any help at all, and here you are all gathered round me as though I was going to sprout wings and fly or something.” Tears were running down her face by now and Kate wrapped her in her arms.
George asked, “Eliza, didn't you have classes in situational ethics? Self-defence?”
“Pardon?”
“If you're illegally held prisoner, no one would condemn you of theft for using a car you found there to get out. What else could you do? And as for planning to mash someone out to kill you, that seems pretty reasonable to me too. You woudn't have reversed over them once they'd fallen off their bike, would you?” Eliza shook her head.
“I have another question, Eliza,” Karen said. “How did you know about the keys?”
“While one of them was retying the knots — they did that every day — I heard him think, ‘Oh bother, the car keys are still in my pocket, I must put them back on the hook in the hall.’ But somehow, he didn't tie my knots properly, and when they were having their argument I managed to slip my hands out.”
“And he thought that in English?”
“Urm, he must have. No, I remember thinking it was odd I understood him.”
“Did he say something like this?” and she said a sentence in Deborah's native language.
“Well, it's probably the same language. But I didn't understand a word.”
“Eliza, could we hold hands while I think it to you?” she asked, and holding Eliza's hand she thought, once again in her second language, [My cousin, you have the gift.]
“What do you mean I have the gift?” Eliza asked, shocked, “And how did I understand you? You thought the same thing didn't you?”
“You sprouted wings a while ago, Eliza,” Sarah said. “It's just that none of us realised it. Only the gift would let you understand thought in a language you don't know. Of course you’re trustworthy. God doesn't make mistakes and the gift you've been entrusted with is not for those that cannot withstand temptation.”
[Now, my cousin, my sister of gifting, think of peace and relax like {this}, and let the healing peace of God wash away your doubt.]
Eliza tried to do what Sarah had said. She knew she hadn't done it right, and tried again and again. [Like this,] she felt a massive presence guide her, and knew she would be able to do it again whenever she chose.
[Welcome, my daughter, do not hold onto your doubts, for you are worthy of trust,] came the gentle, healing thought of that massive presence, bigger than the universe and more caring than any mother. And then He who is, the living one, withdrew.
Eliza realized that here her doubts were somehow separate from her, and obediently she let them go. The current of the peace snatched them away and banished them further than East is from West.
----------------------------------------
Bob, having skimmed the basic reports and decided to leave the envelope for later, had decided to go down to talk to Eliza if the door wasn't closed. It wasn't but the sight that met him wasn't what he'd expected at all.
Six people, round the table, all looking like they'd been hit by sleep-gas, except that there wasn't even a sign of worry, nor was there the residual lemon smell that sleep-gas left.
John was closest to the door, and he checked him for a pulse. There, not particularly weak. He was just deciding that he needed to fetch Janet when Karen looked up.
“Hi Bob.” She didn't sound stressed or anything. If anything he'd have said that she was entirely un-stressed. “In case you're wondering this is what we look like when we're having what you might call a mental vacation to a better place.”
“A better place? You mean heaven?”
“Not as Scripture describes it, no. More a rest area for tired and stressed brains, where we cool down faster and are very aware of the peace of God.”
“So it's more like a meditative trance?”
“I'm not sure. Could you have a conversation while in a trance?”
“Urm, not from what I understand about it.”
“Not one of those either then.”
“So you're fully conscious?”
“Fully conscious, but according to Janet the bits of our brains dealing with voluntary motor control and the senses are pretty close to turned off. Kate tells us that there's still a tiny bit of pain response, oh and if we've been overdoing it we can feel the heat in our brains. As I say, a very good place to rest. Or, as occurred to me last week, a good place to wait if someone is torturing you.
If Eliza wakes up a bit blissed out, then that's only because your first exposure is always pretty gob-smacking, let alone when the Almighty drops in for a few words.”
“God spoke to her?”
“Yes. Reassured her that she really is a trustworthy person.”
“I knew that.”
“But she doubted. Not the best attitude to have when you have the gift.”
“You prayed that she'd receive the Gift? Isn't that going to be a bit hard on her?”
“Not guilty, your honour,” Karen said, with a relaxed smile. “She's had it a week at least, that's how she was able to escape, only she didn't realise it.”
“Ah.”
[Karen?] It was Enoch's voice.
[Hi, Enoch. Trouble?]
[Not here. I had a feeling I should look in on you all.]
[Ah. You should probably visit the peace instead. Say hi to Eliza.]
[Eliza?]
[Had the power all her life but newly gifted. She's been through a hard time, received the gift about a week ago but didn't know it. We pointed out to her that the only way to understand the thoughts of someone whose language you don't understand is by the gift. She needed the peace so we showed her how to reach it.]
[I'll introduce myself.]
[Do.]
“Your eyes glazed over. Talking to someone?”
“Yes, only about eleven time zones away. He got told to check in. I told him to go introduce himself to Eliza. He's a pretty good teacher.”
[Don't tell him that, he'll get all proud.]
[Hi Rose, have you met Eliza yet?]
[Yes. Enoch wouldn't believe me when I said you were all in the peace.]
[I was told to leave. Mr. McDaniel here was getting worried.]
[Oh. I'll leave you chatting then. Pass on my appreciation for the bit on your royal family. Very good reporting.]
Karen's eyes regained focus once more and seemed to sparkle.
“That was his wife. She asked me to pass on her appreciation for your very good reporting on the royal family.”
“Are you going to have more of these interruptions?”
“I have no idea. They were told to point their minds this way. I don't know quite why.”
“I do,” George said. “Eliza and Enoch are just comparing family trees. It looks like they're related on her mother's side.”
“I don't think I even know Enoch's surname. Oh, yes I do. So he said his surname and it matched?”
“A bit more complex, but yes. She's researched her mother's family tree and
when she heard Enoch's surname, she asked, ‘I don't suppose you're a relative of so and so’.”
“And all the time she's healing?” Karen asked.
“I'm sure she is,” John said, “but I need some help with the pizzas. Could you come?”
“Of course!” Karen and George answered in unison.
“John, I couldn't help noticing your leg. With your name and a metal leg...”
“I did warn you, John!” Karen laughed. “Let's see how long it is before he's on to Sarah, shall we?”
“Just don't ask her, OK, Bob? Sarah's slightly allergic to reporters and might scream at you. She's got a really effective scream.” Something about the way John talked about her scream triggered a memory in Bob's mind and he looked at Sarah again. Click. “I'm guessing your wife was something like ten or eleven during the Clear Sky attack. Losing both her parents at that age must have been terrible, and I can imagine that reporters hounding her didn't help. I won't ask her.”
“Thank you, Bob,” John answered, just as Sarah opened her eyes.
“What are we thanking Bob for, John?”
“Not being too much of a reporter.”
“Ah. Karen was right then?”
“I was. Sorry.”
“Well, he's not able to report on us, is he?”
“Not in the context of working here, no...” Bob replied, with a little twinkle in his eye this time.
Sarah noticed it. “That sense of humour could get you in trouble, Bob.”
“Sarah, if Bob will be very good, then I wonder if you'd like to tell him about your interesting experiments outside the Institute,” Karen suggested. “I think your diamonds are the sort of thing that some of his fellow journalists would be interested in.”
“I suppose you could be right. If he's good.”
“You're being deliberately cruel, aren't you? Dropping hints at a story and not giving me any details about it?”
Karen and Sarah both laughed. “Who, us?”
“Please! Have mercy! At least tell me what story I'm not getting yet.”
“Oh, all right,” Sarah said. “Headline is 'Up to one gigabyte of data per carat on say, an engagement ring'.”
“Or a lot more if you don't mind turning your beautiful gem diamond into something that would make Sarah cry,” Karen added.
“But it would still sparkle and cut class?” Bob asked.
“Wretched, wretched man! Destroyer of beauty! Vandal! Murderer!” Sarah said, almost convincingly.
“Calm down, beloved, he didn't mean it. Say you didn't mean it, Bob, and don't mention the Z word, or I can't answer for your safety.”
“I didn't mean it. Honest! But joking aside, you can turn an engagement ring into a data-crystal? I'm sure that there are people who'd be fascinated at the possibilities. I presume Security know about this, Karen?”
“I can neither confirm nor deny,” Karen said primly.
“That's all right then. Yes, there is a sort of insiders-only journal, yes, there would be interest, and yes, an interview with the designer would be very much appreciated unless you just want to be crassly commercial and advertise.”
“I don't want to advertise. Production runs are small, and a very large part of the point is that people don't expect them.”
“Indeed. Perhaps an article which doesn't actually talk about them would be better.”
“Interesting idea. There's Kate's ring of course too. Panic button and I.D.”
“In an engagement ring?” Bob was amazed.
“Yes.”
“That's astounding. Can I make notes?”
“No, I'm not telling you any of this unless we get the pizzas ready on time.”
“Yes, maam!”
Bob agreed with Karen. The pizzas were good. Very good. Like the company. He decided that early retirement didn't seem nearly as attractive as it had earlier that morning.