Dying Inside was the story of David Selig, a neurotic mind reader who was slowly losing his powers. As Freya read the book, she understood why Randall had recommended it. The descriptions of telepathy were vivid and detailed, and Selig’s perspective was unique and achingly real. She plowed through nearly a hundred pages before the constant, crushing sadness of the book began to get to her.

Freya had a strange feeling of someone reading over her shoulder. A few times she looked around, expecting to find someone staring at her, but there was no one. The library was not very busy. It was mainly elderly people milling around the computer terminals and reading the periodicals.

Freya closed the book and typed in a note, thinking she ought to go ahead and call a taxi home. Before she could finish typing the note, she had a sudden uneasy feeling in her stomach. It seemed like the whole room had darkened a shade, and she wondered if something was up with the electricity. But no one else looked up. It was all in her head, just like when she’d read The Stand.

For months afterward, every sniffle made her worry she’d contracted the super flu. Freya wondered if she should mention this to Dr. Garbuglio. The down feeling had swelled around her out of nowhere.

Before she could forget what she meant to write, Freya completed the note about how Selig reminded her of a cross between Professor X and Woody Allen. Maybe she could get a laugh from someone with that quip.

But from who? Who was she taking these notes for anyway? She would never get to have that conversation. Her father was gone. When would she stop forgetting that a hundred times a day? A hundred let-downs, a hundred disappointments, a hundred realizations that nothing would ever be okay again.

Freya moved to leave, and the feeling of a shadow pressing down on her returned until she slunk back into her seat. She didn’t have anywhere to go. With a sigh, she flipped the book back open, finding her place. Within a few pages, the heavy feeling passed, and she felt better.

Though the book became increasingly miserable as it slumped to its conclusion, Freya enjoyed it more and more. At the end, her hands trembled with excitement.

Why do I feel like this?

Silverberg was an even better writer than she’d thought. Freya couldn’t remember the last time a book had affected her so physically. She took a deep breath, trying to center herself and reflexively reached into her pocket for the Starball.

It was hot.

Not the usual distant warmth. Hot, like a stone baking in the sun. Not hot enough to hurt, just enough it couldn’t possibly be her imagination. She glanced around the room, making sure no one watched her. Freya drew the Starball out and stared at it, turning it over and over in her palm. Externally, it was the same, so why was it so hot? She prodded the orb with her left index finger to confirm. It was definitely warmer than she’d ever felt before.

Was the Starball trying to tell her something?

“Am I in danger?” she asked under her breath, wondering if the orb was trying to warn her. Freya glanced up, expecting the ceiling to be swallowed by the starless void, but everything was normal.

Freya spoke to her pet rock from outer space. She’d finally lost it. She felt for her phone. Dr. Garbuglio had said she could call anytime, but turmoil built in her stomach again. It was a terrible idea. Telling Dr. G any part of this would be a one-way ticket to a mental hospital.

Lassa was gone. There would be no one to get her out. Freya stuck the phone back in her pocket, and the discomfort began to abate. She started to be weirded out by these sudden shifts, it wasn’t like her. Was it another side effect of the Lunesta withdrawal? Did the Starball getting hot have anything to do with it?

Freya had no answers. At last, all she could think to do was to pick up the copy of Dying Inside and walk it over to the returns desk. Maybe it was cursed, and she’d feel better once she was rid of it. Too late, she realized she should have waited until the librarian’s attention was elsewhere.

Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.

“Ah, not for you?” the librarian asked, looking a little disappointed.

“Oh, no, haha. I just finished it.”

There was a moment where the librarian clearly wondered if that was possible, but then she glanced at the clock and nodded.

“I didn’t realize it had gotten so late. You’re a fast reader. What did you think?”

“It’s very stark. The mind-reading scenes were incredibly vivid, but the rest of the story was so bleak. The protagonist reminds me of a cross between Professor X and Woody Allen,”

Freya got her laugh after all, though the librarian covered her mouth, and she was quick about it.

“That’s grand. You should write a review. It’s been almost twenty years since I read it, but I can still remember the scene at the farm, and some of his interactions with his sister…”

“Judith,” Freya reminded her.

“That’s it. The part where she realizes Selig is reading her mind, so she floods his head with disgusting images… I’ll never forget that. It’s an exceptional book. Have you read More than Human?”

“No, is that another Silverberg?”

“Theodore Sturgeon. It’s about a psychic gestalt made up of runaways. It’s a much different style, but very thought-provoking. Then if you want a gestalt on a far grander scope, you might like Starmaker by Olaf Stapeldon. It’s incredible, like nothing else I’ve ever read.”

“I’ll add those to my list, thank you.” Freya had her phone out, tapping in the recommendations.

“Oh, that’s so clever! I should do that,” the librarian said. “I loved, loved, loved Never Let Me Go. It was just haunting.”

Freya looked up, suddenly alarmed. The librarian could read upside down! She had been watching as Freya typed.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to intrude,” she said, immediately realizing she’d overstepped. “I get carried away talking about books.”

“No, it’s totally okay,” Freya reassured her. “You’re Lynn Harris’s sister, right?”

“Yes, I’m Lee. Very nice to meet you.” Lee extended a hand over the counter, and Freya reached out to shake it. She looked surprised to be recognized, but in a pleasant way. The familial resemblance was only there if you were really looking for it.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t recognize you at first. You’ve grown so much since the last time I saw you. Your dad was one of the biggest readers in town. He was such a good man.”

Freya caught a little twinge in the way Lee said that, as if she thought most men weren’t very good at all. “I’m so sorry for your loss,” Lee finished.

“It’s okay, thank you,” Freya said quietly. She desperately wanted to escape. “I’ll check on those books.”

Freya found the books on the shelves. They were both trade paperbacks in the Gollancz SF masterworks series. She checked them out and added them to her pile.

Freya had intended to return home and drop off her books before the party. But now, she wasn’t so sure she would go out again if she went back to the house. She didn’t know what that strange feeling was all about. Maybe there was something wrong with her. If she went straight to the party with a giant pile of books the boys there would definitely make comments. Then she remembered Dan had The Fragile Phoenix. She’d been pushing that problem out of her mind all day.

She could just go home and not deal with any of it. She could text Dan and ask him to bring the book to school tomorrow. Now that he knew she was nuts, he’d probably be relieved if Freya didn’t come. Then she thought it was even easier than that. She didn’t even have to text Dan. She just could tell Dr. Garbuglio she’d lost her copy. He had a whole shelf of them. She never had to talk to Dan Gregulus again.

Take a chance.

Freya didn’t have to go home and hide. She could just suck it up. Maybe Dan hadn’t even opened the book. Maybe he didn’t give a shit. Maybe it didn’t matter either way, and she just wanted to hang out with a bunch of guys and watch men in a cage beat each other half to death. She looked at her stack of books and wished she had a grocery bag or something to hide them in.

It dawned on Freya she could get a grocery bag at the grocery store. She could show up with some food, and everyone would be happy to see her. She’d thought she might never eat again after breakfast, but that was a whole novel ago. She was already getting hungry. If people were busy eating, they wouldn’t have time to notice if she was awkward as hell.

She waved goodbye to Lee Harris and set off for the Black River Market.