Complete Atopia Chronicles Part 45

"Jimmy, I know you don't have many friends," said Bob, his voice hushed now, "and I know it can't be easy for you." His voice trailed off as he searched for words.

"Okay, first thing, quit with the splatter skins, those were funny when we were little but it's a bit odd when people..." he started to say, and then the head of one of the nearest adults suddenly shattered in a gory explosion of brains and skull fragments as if hit by high caliber rifle fire.

The headless, b.l.o.o.d.y victim continued to pick up a drink that floated by and poured this into its gaping neck wound. I smiled awkwardly. Bob glanced at this and looked back at me, shaking his head. I switched it off.

Bob looked up at the sky and then back at me.

"And I know you're the king of the rag doll, but n.o.body wants to play that stuff anymore, get it? Stop asking people if they want to come inside your body with you, it's starting to get weird."

I nodded. I knew this but I couldn't help it. I promised myself right there I'd stop.

"We all know you're this specialist at finding cracks in the pssi system," he continued, "but you gotta stop sneaking around. We're adults now, and adults don't sneak."

Of course we weren't and of course they did. I nodded again, regardless.

"So, you'll quit sneaking into people's bodies when they're not looking right?" He waited for me to nod, and then added, "Look, why don't you come out and try some surfing with me, whaddya say?"

"Sure Bob, you're right, I mean, yes of course, I'd like that," I mumbled, anxious but grateful.

Bob had always been nice to me, but this was the first time he, or anyone, really had had a heart to heart with me. The territory both scared and excited me.

"So you'll come surfing?" asked Bob, smiling toothily at me now.

"Yeah sure," I said, and smiled back.

He gave me a little punch in the arm. I guessed we were buddies now.

"Okay cool. So about Cynthia, look, she's a girl, and girls want you to open up, be sensitive. I mean, I can tell you're sensitive." He laughed, looking into my puppy dog face. "Okay forget that."

"She said she wanted to see something fun," I suggested helpfully.

He looked up and considered for a moment.

"Yeah, girls like cool stuff. Perfect! Just open up to her a little. Why don't you show her some of the stuff you've been working on at Solomon House? That should impress her. Girls like smart guys."

"Do you really think so?" I asked. I had some new neural interface models I had been working hard on testing with Dr. Granger, who had taken a keen interest in my abilities.

I kept the models in my personal work s.p.a.ce and hadn't let anyone in there before. My private worlds were very private. After finally escaping from the clutches of my mother and father I hadn't let anyone near me, emotionally or physically, and spent most of my time alone with my proxxi Samson and our simulated friends.

"Sure, open up a little, she'll love that."

Bob laughed, winking at me, and then raised his eyebrows, giving me a little poke with one of his phantoms to indicate something behind me. With a shake of his head he waved me off from turning my head around.

Instead, I snuck a peak behind me without turning my head, overlaying part of my visual channel with a local wikiworld view, and saw Cynthia coming up behind us. She noticed my ghost checking her out anyway.

"Go get 'em Tiger," Bob said encouragingly as he got up to leave. "I've gotta go and catch my own sweetheart."

Bob and Nancy had been intertwined since they were kids and had grown into the pssikid power couple. He walked back to the gathering crowd to leave me and Cynthia alone.

"Hey Cynthia," Bob said playfully as he walked past her, looking back to wink at me again. Cynthia smiled at him and turned her gaze towards me. I began to sweat profusely.

"Hi Jimmy," came Cynthia's singsong voice. She skipped the last few steps up to me. I was dumbfounded for what to say, so I said nothing and smiled weakly. "So, what's up?"

"Not...not much, how...how are you?" I stammered.

My mind went blank.

"...Cynthia," I managed to stutter out after a few seconds of agonizing silence.

"I'm great!" she replied brightly, smiling shyly. "How's your research going?"

"Uh, yeah, good...hey," I replied, thinking of what Bob had said. "I could show you some of the stuff I'm doing at Solomon House if you like."

"Really? Cool!" Her eyes and smile widened. "Can we go now?"

I nodded. Why not?

"Mum!" she yelled, and her mother's face floated up between the two of us.

"Yes, Cynthia? You don't need to yell you know," her mother admonished.

Cynthia just continued unfazed, "I'm just going to flit out with Jimmy for a bit to show me some of the stuff he's working on at Solomon House."

Cynthia's mother looked suitably impressed.

"Work at the Solomon House? But you're just a baby," she remarked, looking my way and furrowing her brow. "Anyway, yes, sure, but I'm pinging you back the second Nancy gets here."

Cynthia grabbed my hand and squealed excitedly, "Let's go!"

I felt an electric thrill, feeling her touching me, that spread like wildfire to settle hotly in my crotch. An erection immediately sprang to life. Cynthia could sense something going on from my embarra.s.sed, flushed cheeks. She looked at me mischievously.

"Come on Jimmy, let's go!" she squealed again.

I pulled her back and away and we dropped out from our bodies and into my private work s.p.a.ce. I'd never brought anyone here before, and I felt naked. It was thrilling if frightening.

In one layer of my visual field I could see Samson, inhabiting my body back at the beach, holding hands with Cynthia's proxxi near one side of the blue and yellow tent. They were watched carefully by Cynthia's mother's proxxi, and they went off to get some cotton candy. I smiled.

Cynthia and I were standing together in a large, white laboratory with gleaming floors and walls with a view out of smoky gla.s.s windows onto Atopia stretched out below, the same view physically as the real Solomon House atop the farming complex.

Above stainless steel tables floated a variety of working models of mirror neuron interfaces I was working on with Dr. Granger. He shared my interest in the physiological basis of emotion and the ability to use it to direct the hive mind, but where he was more interested in happiness, I had taken more of an interest in fear-something the other researchers had mostly pa.s.sed by.

While we walked, I keyed through some parameters with my phantoms to wash away the tables and structures to be replaced with only one of the models, which then floated in s.p.a.ce in front of us, slowly rotating. I was keenly aware of Cynthia's grip on my sweaty hand.

"Cool," she said, watching the visually enhanced synaptic firing of the neuron floating in front of us. It was a working model.

"This isn't just a model," I declared, "this is actually happening inside me right now."

After some testing I had installed them in my own developing wetware to see how the models would respond. I started to explain how it worked, how this was an upgrade to what we were doing already, how it provided a more reliable pathway to empathy.

Empathy was something I didn't understand, or rather, I understood it, but I just didn't feel it.

While I was nervously trying to explain my project, Cynthia had wandered off, looking around the rest of my work s.p.a.ce. I wanted to show her something really special, so I was engrossed in my model, busy burrowing through the cell walls trying to change some protein pathways.

"What's in here?" she asked, opening a door.

"Oh, ah, nothing!" I cried out, but it was already too late.

As soon as the portal had opened a crack, she'd dropped into the world beyond. I quickly abandoned my model and shot off into that world behind her.

Instantly I was standing beside her in semidarkness. Shafts of light bore down from the blackness above, illuminating a writhing ma.s.s of insects and worms and other creatures pinned painfully to the walls of my labyrinthine private universe. An image of my mother's face hung in s.p.a.ce above us, twisted in hate.

"Who's my little stinker?" she repeated and repeated, her face contorting and distorting.

I came here to heal myself, to reconnect and re-stimulate some of the sensory pain I'd felt. The process seemed to allow me to refocus my mind. I had picked out some particularly nasty moments from my childhood and worked through them bit by bit, simultaneously bathing my sensory system in the pain from the thousands of little creatures I had pinned to the walls. I didn't understand why, but it helped.

Cynthia shivered and looked around with wide eyes, scared but excited.

"This is way f.u.c.king creepy man," she whispered, looking around at the half illuminated animals pinned to the walls, sc.r.a.ping and clawing futilely, never dying, never free, always trapped and in pain.

Tears began to well up in her eyes looking at the hopeless little creatures.

"I can feel them," she squeaked, her eyes growing wide. "This is horrible!"

Then, suddenly, she was gone, flitting back to the birthday party.

Shocked, I stood still for a moment as the blood drained from my face. I wasn't sure what to do. I closed down the image of my mother and the s.p.a.ce went dark and quiet, apart from the soft wriggling of the creatures on the walls.

I hadn't remembered that there was a portal to this place from my works.p.a.ce. I was too fl.u.s.tered to think clearly at the time. I began quietly swearing at myself, then, suddenly, I felt Samson grabbing me, pulling me back to reality.

I snapped back into my body with a sudden sense of vertigo. I heard laughter around me, but I wasn't back at the party. Somehow I was in my private s.p.a.ce again. The bugs were squirming painfully on the walls as before, but all the party guests were standing in the middle of it somehow, and the bugs were magnified, giant monsters vainly trying to pull their bodies from the pushpins stuck through them.

Above it all, my mother was venting down on us all, "Who's my little stinker?"

Cynthia had stolen a copy of my world and projected it out here in public at the beach. I felt myself shrink in horror. Cynthia was laughing with her friends, and they were all pointing at me and screeching, "Who's my stinky Jimmy!"

The adults were dumbfounded as to what was going on. It had all happened too quickly for them, but someone regained control of the situation and the big-top tent reappeared with the balloons and monkeys. Everyone turned and looked at me, the kids laughing and giggling, the adults staring without comprehension.

"Why did you do that?" I screamed at Cynthia.

An intense, burning anger beyond my searing humiliation filled me. All the years of containing my fear, my frustration, my hiding and cowering, it all boiled over the edges of my psyche. I could kill her right now, I thought. The world turned a b.l.o.o.d.y red in front of my eyes, and demons shifted inside.

Cynthia shrank back into the protective knot of her friends, all of them still laughing.

I gathered myself and focused on her, channeling my voice through the pssionics and amplifying it beyond deafening.

"Why did you do that?!" I bellowed from a hulking, grotesque caricature of myself.

A shockwave of pure hatred shattered away from me, almost knocking over the a.s.sembled guests. I felt like I was about to physically explode when I caught myself and stopped. My anger imploded back into me and the bottle corked back up.

The laughing had stopped. In fact the scene was deathly quiet now, except for whimpers from some of the smaller children. Shocked faces were turned towards me, watching me. Someone started crying. It was Cynthia.

At that moment Nancy Killiam opened the portal door and announced, "I'm heeeere!"

She was all decked out in a frilly dress and pigtails. I began to run, tears streaming down my face, shoving my way past Bob.

"Hey, I didn't know, hey Jimmy..." he tried to say as I ran past him, almost knocking down Nancy as I ran out, escaping from the blinding glare of judgment. By that point I was already gone, detached, and it was Samson taking over my body to hide it somewhere safe.

I was already back in my private world, and it was burning. Great flames were consuming the walls, the corridors, the pa.s.sages and nooks and crannies of my childhood. The little creatures pinned everywhere to the walls squealed in high keening agony as the blaze devoured them.

I watched, impa.s.sively, as the inferno consumed itself and flamed out. My face grimly reflected the smoldering ruins in shades of dark oranges and blood reds. Never again, I promised myself, never again.

They say what doesn't kill you makes you stronger, and on that day I felt myself shatter and schism but then reform to heal and grow, becoming adult perhaps, becoming something different. The developing child inside me, my personality until then free floating, coalesced and hardened. Invisible things fell into place, the pain stopped, and the sh.e.l.l finally finished closing around me, opaque, powerful. Impenetrable.

A few days later, back at home, I was studying for some Solomon House entrance exams.

My mother had just arisen from the dead, and was making her way, in her jerkily soapstim junkie way, towards me with a fresh drink in hand to help her wake up from the sensory coma she'd been in for the past few days.

"Hey stinker, I saw you embarra.s.sed me at that Killiam party, what the h.e.l.l were you thinking?" she half slurred, half laughed at me.

"Some security expert you are," she sn.i.g.g.e.red, taking a swig from her drink. She waved her hand at me dismissively. I watched her blankly.

"They killed the dolphins you know," she added, cruelly recalling the security breach that had been the start of the end with Terra Nova. "Dirty smelly fish, serves them right."

Still I said nothing.

"So I guess n.o.body is coming to your party, huh, stinky Jimmy?"

She wasn't really asking, she was more enjoying herself and smiling knowingly at the new name the kids were now calling me. She was behind me, and had turned away to refill her drink.

I slowly closed the interface to my notes and twisted towards her, pulling down a dense security blanket that enveloped us in a glittering glacial blue. She turned back to me.

"What?" she barked, feeling the blanket close in around us. She threw her head back. "Something to say, little worm?"

I smiled at her, flames glittering in my eyes.

"If you ever talk to me again, Mother, if you ever so much as lay a hand on me or utter one more word to me from that trashy, dirty mouth of yours again," I said, evenly and slowly, smiling at her. "I will make sure that you regret ever existing, that you live out the remainder of your pathetic life in unearthly agony."

I smiled to make the point. The fire burned ever brighter in my eyes, and the flames reflected in hers.

Looking at me she was about to say something, but then stopped herself as her vacant mind filled with alarm, feeling my naked malice inhabiting the room. I could taste her fear and my smile widened. She just turned and shuffled away, and I released the security blanket with a flick of a phantom.

"Enjoy the soapstim mum!" I gaily called after her, and returned to my notes.

I'm going to ace this test.