Muted Trilogy: Mute Part 5

She locked up and made her way to her car, walking through the parking lot, taking a moment to admire the colorful sunset. She watched it, letting the colors wash over her, breathing deeply, intentionally. Finally, she smiled and moved to unlock her car. When she heard a noise behind her, she stilled.

She turned to look, but there was n.o.body there. She shook her head, on edge again, and glanced in the back seat to make sure it was empty before getting in the car and locking the door decisively behind her, turning her attention to driving and to visiting her family a second day in a row.

At her parents' house, she turned off the car, pulling the keys from the ignition and then resting her head against the steering wheel. She exhaled forcefully, then got out of the car, striding to the front door and raising her hand to knock. She paused again, only for a couple of seconds, but in that time, the door opened.

Her mother grinned at her, eyes flashing, looking expectant. Jemma felt some of the blood drain from her face. Had her mother already spoken? Was she waiting for a response?

"You took long enough, Jemma," she heard, and she closed her eyes, feeling them sting. She swallowed then opened her eyes again. Her mom had moved her lips as if she were speaking, but the sound hadn't reached Jemma via her ears. Instead, it had echoed slightly in her mind, centering behind her forehead rather than to one side or the other. "It's easiest to pretend you're really talking," her mother said, elation untouched by Jemma's reactions or hesitation.

Jemma opened her mouth to speak, but then she closed it again. What should she say?

"Hi," she tried finally.

Her throat didn't feel as if it produced sound, and she couldn't hear her own voice as internally as she had when speaking normally. Instead, as when her mom had spoken, there was an echo near the front of her mind, the vaguest impression of both image and sound, not quite synced up properly, as if her brain weren't entirely sure how to translate what it was receiving. Weird, she tried mumbling to herself, but nothing happened. She focused her attention back on her mother and tried again. "This is weird."

Her mother nodded, tears in her eyes, and she pulled Jemma into a hug.

"It's less weird if you don't think about it," her mother told her. "It's so good to hear your voice again!"

Feeling her mother's mouth move near her ear and "hearing" the words from a different direction was disorienting, and Jemma pulled back.

"It's not even been two weeks, Mom."

"I know, but I thought I might never hear your voice again, might never get to really speak to you again without some fake voice." Carolyn wiped at her eyes, then visibly pulled herself together. "Come on, let's sit down and I'll tell you what we know so far."

Jemma nodded, and they moved to the living room. "Where are Dad and Jilly?" she asked.

"They went to see whether or not they could talk to the neighbors." They sat, and Carolyn turned so she was facing Jemma. "Okay, so, it doesn't reach very far. A little further than a whisper, but the edge of the room is. .h.i.t or miss. I can speak to Dad from further than your sister can, but it's still gone by the end of the room. It doesn't work over the phone, either. We tried that, first. I would have called you, but I didn't want you wondering what was going on if you couldn't hear me."

"That makes sense," said Jemma in response to her mother's pause, and she was rewarded with the slight widening of an already-present smile.

"Jilly can talk without moving her mouth. She was trying to tell us how she does it, but your father and I haven't been to make it work for us, so I'll wait and let her explain that part. I guess that's about it." Her mother took a breath as if she'd been talking in the more standard way.

"Thanks for letting me know," said Jemma. "I might not have noticed until Friday."

A flash of regret crossed Carolyn's face. "This is why I want you to find someone you're happy with."

Jemma managed a smile. "You mean you were worried that the world might suddenly lose its voice and then gain telepathy and I wouldn't have anyone at home to talk to about it?" She rubbed her forehead at the still-odd sensation of this form of speech.

Her mother crossed her arms. "You know what I mean. I don't like knowing that you're all alone."

Jemma sighed, the silence of the action more jarring after the return of semi-audible communication. She shook her head. "I'm not alone. I have you guys. I'm content, Mom. If someone comes along, sure, okay, I'm open to it I guess, but I'm not going to force it. I don't feel like there's anything missing from my life, and I'd appreciate it if you'd stop trying to make me feel as if there were." She closed her eyes again. The gentle pressure of her mother's hand rested on her shoulder, and Jemma looked at her mom.

"I'm sorry," Carolyn said. "I know you have your life under control. It's just that especially with everything that's been happening, I worry. You know I can't help that. I worry about my students, too, and even your father on his short drive to work because I know most accidents happen close to home. I shouldn't give you a hard time because of my own problems."

Jemma patted her mother's hand atop her shoulder. "I know." Before she could decide whether to elaborate further, Jemma heard the back door open and two sets of footsteps in the house. When she could see her father, she tried to greet him, but nothing happened. She frowned, but Matthew held up a finger and walked closer. When he was about ten feet away, he stopped and gestured toward her. "Hi, Dad," she said, sound echoing this time.

"Oh!" said Carolyn, "I nearly forgot to tell you! Only who you're thinking about can hear you, but you can talk to more than one person, as long as they're someone you can talk to. You just have to be thinking about talking to both of them. So it's a little harder to talk to more than one person at a time, but it's possible." Jemma nodded, and Carolyn turned to face her husband. "Were you able to speak with any of the neighbors?"

Jemma closed her eyes yet again, this time focusing on the communication as her father spoke.

"No, we weren't able to. I doubt we'll be able to use this to teach, so we'll still be inundated with these infernal electronics."

She realized that she could almost see the words in her mind, like tiny subt.i.tles on a movie, the letters overlapping with the impression of her father's speaking voice. She wasn't entirely sure which was coming first, letters and sounds too close together to really separate them, and this seemed to be the cause of the echoing sensation that persisted with this type of communication. Jemma opened her eyes again as Jill shuffled into the room.

"Hey, Jemma," said Jill, her lips unmoving, the echo less p.r.o.nounced now that Jemma's eyes were open. "Mom said you were coming over."

"She told me you could talk without moving your mouth, too." Jemma couldn't decide whether it felt more normal or less normal to be able to hear this version of a voice without seeing a mouth move. "Neat trick."

"Isn't hard. Kinda hard to explain, though, I guess." Jill looked at her parents, who seemed to have ventured off into their own private conversation. "I mean, I thought I explained it okay. Did Mom tell you anything about it?"

Jemma shook her head, and Jill took a seat on the recliner.

"Okay, so, you can't just think about what you want to say like you're thinking to yourself. It isn't like mind reading. You have to actually think the words, like..." She trailed off, frowning for a few seconds, after which her face brightened. "Okay, so, like if you're thinking about what to write to someone, just trying to come up with what to say, that's not gonna work, won't talk to anyone, right? But when you're actually typing, do you ever say the words out loud in your head?"

The explanation clicked, and Jemma tried narrating a sentence to her sister without trying to speak aloud. "You mean like this?"

Jill nodded enthusiastically, treating her sister to a smile. "So how do we explain that to Mom and Dad?"

Jemma looked at her parents, then back at her sister. "I can try later, but I think they like pretending everything is back to normal as much as they can. It's a little less normal, talking this way." It felt more natural, though, Jemma thought, the echo without the moving lips, as if this could, in fact, be a normal thing. She wasn't sure whether it would feel that way for others, though. "Have you tried talking to any of your friends yet?"

Jill shook her head. "You know they all live like forever from here since the high school is so far. Their parents are holding them hostage so they can tell them to do their homework or whatever it is parents miss telling their kids."

Raising an eyebrow at her sister, Jemma felt her lips pull upward on one side. "That's all parents do, huh?"

"You know I was kidding." Jill rolled her eyes. "Anyway, it looks like some people who aren't related can talk, but mostly it's just people who are related or have been together forever. Jennifer can't talk to Roger, and she's all upset about it 'cause they've been going steady for like a week now. I think--"

Carolyn turned and started talking while Jill was still communicating, and the voices combined to make a loud echo, almost a screeching feedback. Jemma clutched at her head, and Jill did the same. It got quiet quickly, and Jemma winced in her mother's direction.

Her mother looked apologetic. "That's what I forgot to tell you. Talking to two people at once is fine, but only if it's outgoing. Don't try talking when somebody else is talking to you, and hope two people don't try to talk to you at the same time. It's not very pleasant." She looked at Jill. "It's also a good reason to give a visual cue that you're speaking to someone."

Jill seemed to recover more quickly than Jemma, and Jemma wondered whether that was from age, personality, or exposure to the effect. It helped to think that might get easier to deal with; she didn't expect it to be terribly infrequent an occurrence at her family's home. She was still rubbing her forehead when her mother spoke again.

"Stay for supper, Jemma? I made extras." She looked at her older daughter, a smile on her face, eyes open and clear.

"Sure, Mom," Jemma answered, pulling her hand from her face. "I appreciate that."

The night pa.s.sed quickly, jovially, with just two more occurrences of the telepathic backlash, each of which was, indeed, easier to deal with than the one before.

CHAPTER EIGHT:.

Changes Telepathy Troubles By now, most have adjusted, at least in theory, to the ability to use mild telepathy.

We've been able to confirm several facts about this ability: *It works about as far as speaking in a low voice.

*It works between people with a strong emotional connection.

*It doesn't function with people who are not close both physically and emotionally. A couple having a fight will likely still be able to hear each other; a couple with differences impossible to overcome might not.

*Scientists have firmly identified the telepathy as using the part of the brain that typically deals with images.

*The same scientists have firmly stated that this is impossible.

There are still several things we don't know: *Where did this ability come from? We have no more information on this than we do about the loss of voice.

*What causes the feedback when more than one person is speaking? Experts theorize this is because that part of the brain isn't meant to handle speech and can't translate more than one thing at a time.

*Is this, both lack of voice and presence of telepathic communication, permanent?

*Why do some people seem to have a slightly better range than others?

-Katie Brink, Staff Writer It had been a little over a week since the world had changed, again. This week pa.s.sed slowly. The library was nearly deserted again, even most of the regular patrons absent. She had gotten used to seeing Jack daily, but he hadn't been in, either, and she found herself wondering who he might be choosing to spend time with. They hadn't really gotten any more personal than talking about jobs, but she'd never seen him here with anyone, hadn't heard him refer to anyone who might be close enough for telepathy.

Her phone buzzed. Jill had taken to texting her sister more regularly after she'd found herself unable to speak with even her closest friends, some of whom could speak to each other. It had made things hard on Jill, who seemed to feel like her world was only now really, actually changing. She'd gone from being surrounded by friends to feeling a little like an outcast, and she'd turned to her alone-but-not-lonely sister.

The teacher is annoyed with us. She can tell some of the kids are Talking, but she can't prove it. It's kinda funny, actually. She keeps staring at Jennifer like she can see into her mind.

So you're taking the time to text? ;), Jemma wrote.

Yeah, actually. We're just reviewing for the test, and I already know all this. She's watching them so close that she isn't even noticing all the kids who have their phones out. Is work still slow?

Yep. Between the slow morning and my lunch break, I've read two books. I even opened back up early after eating. Everyone wants to stay home, she typed.

So much easier to talk at home. For most people, at least. Did I tell you about Lacey? She can't Talk to either of her parents. She's been avoiding them.

That must be hard, wrote Jemma, remembering her own fears. Hearing the door open, she sent another message. Someone's here. Gotta go work.

She had just finished shoving her phone back in her pocket when the new arrival came into sight, a female regular who usually had a smile on her face. Today, the woman looked drained, waving tiredly before heading over to the fiction section. She came to the desk a few minutes later with a stack of romance novels, placing them on the counter and putting her library card on top. The woman forced a smile at Jemma and reached for the tablet.

"How are you doing today?" she asked with LeVar Burton's voice.

"I'm well enough." Jemma hesitated, then finished typing and went back to checking out the books. "How are you?"

"I've been better." The woman watched Jemma a moment, indecision written on her face. "Trouble at home. My boyfriend and I haven't been able to speak."

Jemma finished checking out the books and set them aside. "Busy?"

The woman, Mariah, shook her head. "We can't Talk. Telepathically, you know. Found out he's been cheating on me when he could Talk to my best friend, but not me." Her eyes were teary, and Jemma shifted and winced sympathetically. "We live together, and neither of us has anywhere to go. I would have gone to my friend's, but that's not happening now. And we can't even work through it, can't talk about it, because we can't hear each other. And it makes it so very hard to forget." Mariah sniffed, silently, tears falling, and Jemma rummaged under the counter for the box of tissues she knew were stashed there. The woman managed a smile as she accepted the box, quickly wiping her face and trying to recover. "So I thought," she continued when her hands were free to type again, "maybe I'd get some books that would let me pretend everything was still okay."

She looked at Jemma again and blushed. "I'm sorry," she wrote. "I guess I just really needed to get that out, and you're a familiar face and you looked like you might be a good listener, so thank you."

"It's okay. I hope everything gets better for you soon," LeVar Burton relayed for Jemma. Mariah nodded and collected her books, looking toward Jemma again and waving before moving out of sight and then out the door.

Alone again, Jemma made a circuit around the library, straightening the almost-perfect section Mariah had been looking through. She took a moment to appreciate her family. Even if she had been unable to hear them, it would have been awkward, painful, but they'd still have been there for each other, would still have been a family. Jemma knew she'd always have people to turn to, even if they didn't always understand her. She heard the door open and close, and she walked back to the circulation desk.

Jack came in, grinning when he saw her. He approached the desk, finger hovering over the tablet's volume b.u.t.ton, eyebrow arched questioningly. Jemma nodded, and he turned the volume off before typing.

How was your week? he wrote.

It was fine, she wrote back. Slow. I think everyone has wanted to be home.

That makes sense, for those who have someone at home they can Talk to.

Jemma glanced up at him. He was wearing his normal, charismatic smile.

Do you? she typed. Have someone to Talk to, I mean.

My dad. He lives next door to me. He's been sick, so I've been working at his house. It's nice to be able to hear him call if he needs anything. Means I can look out the window while he naps. What about you?

He watched her while she typed. My family... Mom, Dad, sister. I hope your dad feels better.

He is better, for now. He gets sick a lot, more since Mom died. That's why I moved in next door. He's got several good years left in him yet, though. He tapped the counter next to the tablet as he thought. Okay, I've got to get to work. Fell behind this week. I'll catch you later.

Jemma nodded and gave him a small wave as he moved up to his table.

When the doors opened again a couple hours later, Jemma looked up from her Excel spreadsheet in time to see Cecily, the director of the library branch, come in, a sour look on her face. It softened some when she saw Jemma, whom she quickly joined behind the counter. Jemma remained where she was as Cecily reached for the tablet, turning it to face them and propping it up on the kickstand.

"The tablets were a good idea. The main branch is using them now." She frowned when LeVar Burton started narrating, then grinned, posture relaxing slightly. When she looked at Jemma, her smile dimmed. Had Jemma done something wrong? "They didn't tell me we were open," wrote Cecily. "I thought just the main branch was open. It made sense and seemed easier. I wouldn't have left you here to shoulder the branch by yourself. I went in to see whether we'd be reopening in two weeks along with the East branch, and I was shocked to learn our branch had been the first to reopen, courtesy of your efforts."

"It gave me something to do," Jemma typed. "I didn't mind. I couldn't quite manage our normal hours."

"You've been doing all the work yourself and are only ten hours short of hours typically managed by three or more employees. That's much more than reasonable." She scowled. "You would think they'd have found a way to contact me. Never could get my work email to connect right at home, and I know I didn't have my cell phone on file, but if they'd dialed my house number enough times I'd have tried to figure out who it was calling."

"I think everyone's been busy playing catch up," typed Jemma.

"Have we been this deserted the whole time?" asked Cecily.

Jemma shook her head. "We were fairly busy until the telepathy kicked in. It seems like we might start getting back to normal, though."

Cecily nodded. "One can only spend so long talking to the same person all day. A need to get out of the house is what prompted me to check in with Jessica." She gestured at the tablet. "The voice is a nice touch. They're using someone I've never heard of over at the downtown library. Reading Rainbow is a wonderful a.s.sociation to have in a library."

Jemma brightened, remembering one of the things that had turned up during her free time that morning. "There's an add-on to this app that lets you scan text. I was thinking that if we want business to pick up further, maybe we could have story time here, using this app to read."

"That sounds like a lovely plan," typed Cecily. "You've been thriving here, haven't you?"

The computer chimed, and Jemma glanced at the screen to see a message from Jack.

She's been doing an amazing job, Mrs. Johnson.