His mother came to his apartment that night with a small overnight bag at her side. The two of them camped out in his bedroom for hours, watching the corner for any sign of the Sophia-hologram. They didn’t talk much as they waited. Nate was aware of the uncomfortably loud pounding of his own heart. She sat so close to him their legs touched, and her scent was seeping into every crevice of his bedroom.
At around three in the morning, when he was nodding off, she suddenly gripped his arm.
“Nathaniel!” she whispered.
The hologram-Sophia---or projection girl, or hallucination, or whatever the hell she was making him see---reacted with some surprise when it saw his mother.
“Sophia, this is my mom, Camilla Arlett,” Nate said, feeling like he was at an absurd dinner party.
Hi Camilla. I’m familiar with your work.
His mother looked surprised. Nate was pretty shocked himself, not only at the fact that it knew his mother, but that it sounded a lot more lucid than last time.
“Can you tell me what’s going on?” he asked. “How do you know who I am?”
Felicity showed me your picture and I found your signal from there.
He didn’t bother asking what she meant by “signal.” They had bigger fish to fry, although his stomach clenched into hot knots at the mention of his sister’s name.
“What’s wrong? Is someone hurting you? What about Felicity?”
Reynolds is doing these experiments---got me locked in----Vendra and---psycho---Felicity’s not---
She was breaking up like a bad cell phone signal. The hologram was starting to flicker in and out of focus. The next words out of her mouth made him go cold all over.
Really hurt.
You or Felicity? Before he could voice the thought out loud, the hologram reached out both arms to him in a sudden desperate motion, as if it meant to pull him into whatever ethereal realm it occupied. Then it was gone, and Nate and his mother sat in stunned silence for a solid ten minutes. Then they turned and looked at each other. He saw his own anxiety mirrored in her eyes.
“Is she normally so brief?” his mother said.
“Yeah, any idea why that might be the case? This is your area after all.”
She frowned thoughtfully. “She probably can’t hold the connection. Like I mentioned before, projection is a hard skill for any Telepath. For a Variant, that effort would be tripled. Plus, she has to cast the projection some distance…it’s truly remarkable. She must be in a dire situation to even attempt it.”
“I’m not sure what I can do for her,” Nate said, frustrated. “I can’t go as a cop because I don’t really have probable cause. I can’t just kick down the door and say, ‘a magic vision told me to come here.’ Believe it or not, that won’t hold up in court. Oh, and I would be fired.”
“Why don’t you wait a few more nights and see if she provides you with more detail? Perhaps there will be something tangible you can use,” she suggested.
“What experiments was she talking about anyway? You said those were over.”
“I thought they were. Perhaps this a new endeavor of your father’s.”
Nate was silent. He wondered if there would ever come a time when his father wouldn’t outdo himself in terms of being a psychopath. He seemed to constantly raise the bar. His mother stood up and stretched.
“Shall I take the couch then? Wake me if she comes back tonight. I’d like to hear more of what she has to say.”
“Oh---no, wait, you can stay in here. Let me just---”
“Don’t be silly.”
She smiled as she grabbed one of the blankets from the bed and strode out of the room. Nate watched her go, helpless and confused and still grappling with the monster that was coiling in his stomach. He had offered her the bedroom because he knew wouldn’t be able to sleep in this bed; it smelled too much like her. Like Felicity. It was unbearable. He’d never be able to relax.
He sat on the edge of the bed, resting his elbows on his knees as he scowled at the carpet. His monster was pacing and snarling, making his blood boil and his skin feel hot. When had Felicity become a physical necessity? The way he craved her went beyond lust or even love. It was like she was the air in his lungs and the blood that kept his heart beating. Everything hurt when she wasn’t around.
She takes pre-existing emotions and uses them to her advantage.
Nate put his face in his hands. He thought about the time she had kissed him by the duck pond. Had the strange feelings that had stirred inside of him even been his own? Or was it just her power entering him? Then he remembered the night he had walked in on her changing. Most sisters would’ve thrown a shoe at his head and shouted at him to get out. How long had Felicity stood by that mirror, half-dressed and waiting for him to come in? He felt like he was a rat who had lived in a cage its whole life and was only just now becoming aware of it.
As he sat on the edge of his bed, watching moonlight creep into the room, a new feeling took root inside of him: it was hatred, and by the time morning arrived, it was just as strong as his monster.
***
The Sophia-hologram came by every night after that. The illusion she was projecting into his room grew clearer with each visit, and by the time the week was over, she had told him everything that was happening to her at the Institute. The cocktails his father was making with the residents in order to sell off to anybody who could pay. His accomplice, Clara Vendra. The torture Sophia was enduring in the Basement Complex. Nate half expected her to yell “GOTCHA!” at some point because this grotesque story couldn’t possibly be real. But a pit widened in his stomach as he listened, and it filled up with a thick, sick feeling the longer Sophia talked. He remembered the way his father’s eyes had looked whenever he hit them: flat like a rattlesnake’s. Those eyes were capable of a lot of things.
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His mother sat by his side, listening and occasionally asking a question. He noticed she took extensive notes too. He supposed it was a good idea to keep track of the details, but he resented her for it. How could she listen to these horror stories with such an impassive face, scribbling into her notebook like they were attending a college lecture and she didn’t want to miss out on anything that might be included in the final exam? It seemed so…clinical.
But he wasn’t really any better. He listened to Sophia with the ears of a cop, and one thing quickly became clear: getting physical evidence to corroborate anything she was saying was going to be difficult. Everything she had witnessed had been through the minds of the other residents---which wasn’t something that would hold up in court. Even if the other patients could back up her story, it sounded like all of them were underage and at the Institute per the wishes of their parents, who had signed off on all the “treatments.” It didn’t matter if that was shitty or not: it was legal. Even the 911 calls he’d found a while ago weren’t much to go on; they had already been investigated by authorities and nothing of note had turned up.
What about the notebook? Sophia asked one night when he had done his best to explain this unfortunate reality to her.
“What notebook?” Nate asked.
Doctor Reynolds gave me an old notebook of my mom’s. I don’t understand a lot of it but it looks like notes about the experiments. There’s also my therapy journal. I’m sure I’m not the only one that’s been assigned that kinda thing. The other residents might have written about all the shit they’ve gone though.
“Yeah, maybe. But you would need a subpoena to get ahold of those kind of things,” Nate said slowly. “I’d need a specific reason to ask for that.”
You mean the word of a talking hologram isn’t enough? I’m shocked.
He smiled reluctantly. He could have sworn the flickering image returned it, but it was hard to be sure. She went on.
So what I’m hearing is that you need to actually get inside this place and find something incriminating. Like if you just happened to be here when a crime took place, that could get the ball rolling, right?
A tense silence followed this suggestion. Then his mother said, looking up from her notebook.
“I understand that you must feel frustrated right now, Sophia, but there’s no need to do anything…rash.”
No offense, Camilla, but rash is the only card I have left to play. I’m assuming you know the sort of guy I’m dealing with here.
“I do, which is why I advise we proceed with caution.”
“What were you thinking about doing?” Nate asked carefully. His mother shot him an alarmed look. “I’m not saying she should kill anybody,” he said impatiently. “I’m just saying we need something solid if I’m going to break down the door with a bunch of cops. I can’t go there with obvious intent to find anything incriminating either. That would look like entrapment.”
Why don’t you come to visit Felicity? Whatever happens after that could just be a nice coincidence.
Another silence. The thought of his sister made his stomach writhe with an unpleasant combination of lust and hatred.
“My father would never let me anywhere near her room,” he said bitterly.
The Sophia-hologram looked at him for a long minute. It was impossible to determine the expression on its face.
Last I heard she was in the infirmary. That was weeks ago and I haven’t seen her since.
“The infirmary?” his mother said; her professional demeanor broke for just a second and an expression of what could be considered maternal concern rippled across her face. “What happened?”
Again, the hologram was silent. Nate felt like he was drowning in freezing water.
I probably shouldn’t tell you too much, right? I think if you just come to check up on her, that might give you---what did you say? Probable cause ? There’s nothing sketchy about a brother checking in on his sister.
Nate was starting to feel like the butt of a hideous joke. What was Sophia hiding? Jesus Christ, what had happened to Felicity?
“Did she get sick? Or was she in some kind of accident?” he pressed, but his mother interjected before the hologram could answer.
“She’s right, Nathaniel. We shouldn’t know too much going in. Let’s see. Tomorrow is Saturday and I don’t need to go into the office. Are you available? We could leave first thing in the morning.” Her voice had resumed its clinical crispness.
“We?” he repeated, startled.
“Of course I’ll be coming with you.”
“Whoa, wait a second. Won’t it be hard for you to see Dad again? Besides, it could be really danger----”
“Believe it or not, your father and I get along better than ever now that we aren’t living together.” She laughed. “Besides, I do have a vested interest in making sure everything at the Institute is above board. I’m still an investor.”
This surprised him, and then he felt his stomach swell with anger. The fact that she could still be a part of that business, even after the experiments, struck him as grotesque. But after a moment of reflection, he pushed the feelings down. Maybe it would be easier to get something useful out of his father if his mother was there. Experience had already shown that going in alone wasn’t productive.
“Okay,” he said reluctantly. “We can go tomorrow then. Thanks.”
Camilla.
They both looked at the hologram. For a second, Nate had forgotten she was still there.
“Yes, Sophia?” his mother said.
What’s in your husband’s locket?
“What? Did you say his locket?”
Yeah.
His mother paused, as if waiting for a more detailed explanation regarding this strange request. When the hologram didn’t provide it, she said slowly: “I have no idea. He’s had that for years. I assumed it was a gift from---” She stopped again, then said coolly: “Why do you ask?”
The hologram gave a jerky motion. Nate realized a second later that it was a shrug.
Felicity once said I should ask him some day. So I was just kinda curious.
“Felicity?” His mother repeated blankly.
The hologram stared at the two of them again. It looked from Camilla to Nate and then back again.
Nathaniel, I think it’s best if you go into this knowing all the details.
Well that was foreboding. A cold caterpillar crept up his spine. “Yeah?”
Did you know your dad’s my legal guardian?
“Yeah, I heard that. My condolences,” Nate said dryly.
The hologram looked at his mother again, like it was waiting for her to say something. When Camilla was silent, Sophia continued:
Do you know why that is?
“Um…well, our parents worked together, right? They were friends. I guess I just assumed your mother thought my dad was the safest person for you.” Doesn’t say much about the judgment of your mother, but what the hell do I know? he thought.
It’s more than that. It’s because he’s my father.
“Who?” Nate asked, convinced that there was a glitch in the signal again and that he hadn’t heard that correctly.
Doctor Reynolds. He’s my dad. I didn’t ask Felicity to show me your picture just because I knew you were a cop and you might be able to help me. I wanted to see what my brother looked like.
There was another long silence. Then Nate gave a breathless laugh, similar to the sound someone would make when they had been kicked in the stomach. Unbelievably, that wasn't the most shocking thing she had to say:
And he’s not making cocktails to sell off to the highest bidder. That’s just what Clara thinks he’s doing.
“What in God’s name are you talking about?” his mother asked; her face was pale and her voice sounded high and tight.
He’s trying to bring my mom back. He has her corpse here. I saw it. He dug it up from the cemetery and fucking dragged it here and he’s trying to bring her back.
The loudest silence of his entire life filled the room for what felt like an eternity. Then his mother made a retching noise. Nate didn’t even look over at her, didn’t ask her how she felt, didn’t bother comforting her. Because it didn’t matter. He felt like he had been turned inside out, emptied of all his guts, and then stitched back together again. The thing sitting on this bed was a hollow flesh suit which felt nothing and cared about no one.
Then something seized hold of him, a manic feeling of absurdity and horror that he couldn’t contain. It spilled out of his mouth as he collapsed back onto his bed, laughing hysterically as tears ran down his cheeks.