The Elders (12 page)

“Please don’t go on. I do hate those boring details. You risk sounding like Frederick and the others.” Victoria places her hand on a door handle. “I think that
the search for biological immortality is as foolish as the one for the immortality of the mind, be that with uploading human minds to computers or something more exotic. Having an end to life gives context and meaning to it.”

“I won’t argue with you,” I say, “except to ask that if you feel this way, why do you join the Elders in living a hundred years in a day?”

“Ah, that. Would you like to
see my latest project?” She twists the door handle. “It might answer your question. It’s the result of the better part of a century of painstaking research.”

“Sure, I’d love to.”

With a flourish, she swings the door open and steps inside, the movement as seductive as her walk.

I follow her in and stop, my breath catching. My eyes drift from one corner of the room to the other. Fear for my life
is completely gone, replaced with another emotion, one just as primordial.

When I can speak, I say, “What the—”

“I quite proudly call this
Victoria Sutra
.” She sweeps her hand out in an arc.

I do my best not to blush. Grown men don’t blush, or do they? This room is not something I’d expect to find in a museum, unless it was the museum of sex. The ‘art pieces’ are a mixed bag. There are statues—some
of the Elders, some of the people who are holding me at gunpoint outside the Mind Dimension, and some of strangers. The sculptor has captured them in varying, mid-coitus positions. Almost all of them feature Victoria in some tantalizing way. I have to peel my curious eyes from one particularly interesting piece that features a naked, masculine-looking woman, doing something with Victoria
that reminds me of a cross between wrestling and sixty-nine.

There are also paintings following the same motif. Some are abstract, and some are so realistic they could’ve come from the pages of Penthouse.

“I assume that bookshelf is filled with erotica?” I ask with a chuckle that comes out sounding more nervous than I meant it to be.

“Of course,” she says, giving me a sly smile. “Let me show
you some of my more special creations.”

Before I can reply, she walks over to a large dresser and picks up a flute. It seems innocuous enough, especially given that it’s not penis-shaped, which would’ve fit the feel of this room better. It’s just a simple instrument made of polished red wood, no pun intended.

“Close your eyes,” she says. “Something will happen when I begin playing, and when
it does, I want it to be clear that it’s the music causing it. I don’t want you to think the cause is somehow related to my lips moving in a certain way, or from my body movements as I hold the instrument.”

Cryptic, but hell, I’m curious. I close my eyes, even though this feels like a childhood ‘open your mouth and close your eyes’ prank.

Silence follows and my earlier excitement dissipates
as worry creeps back in. I peek through my eyelashes. If she’s about to attack me, I want to know about it, but no. In the moment I was sightless, she merely raised the instrument to her mouth. I stop peeking and stand there, waiting for whatever will happen next.

When she starts playing the flute, it just sounds like a beautiful melody, but then I feel myself reacting in the strangest way. At
first, I think it might be a coincidence, but it’s not.

The music is giving me an erection. No, that’s an oversimplification. The song is making me super horny. No, still too crude. I get progressively more and more aroused as the music goes on. Yes, that’s it. The whole thing is reminiscent of sex with Mira.

Thinking of Mira instantly reminds me that I should stop whatever this is, so I say,
“I get the idea.”

I open my eyes and clear my throat. Trusting my voice again, I try to turn this from an intimate situation to an inquisitive opportunity by asking, “How does something like that even work?”

“Music can make us feel all sorts of things.” Victoria puts the flute down and walks up to me. “This is not the finished project, but only the start. My inspiration is the male birds that
can evoke an orgasm in the minds of the female birds through their songs.”

I take a nervous step backward. “It’s truly impressive.”

“Yes.” She takes a predatory step forward, so the distance between us remains the same. “I see how impressed you are.”

Her eyes fall to my crotch.

“If you’re trying to seduce me—”

Her gaze returns to my face. “I don’t try,” she says softly. “I succeed.”

“That’s
just an involuntary—”

“Hush.” She moves closer and puts a finger on my lips. “Just think. If I can do
that
with mere music, can you even imagine what I can do with my—”

“Seriously, we can’t. I can’t.” I take five panicky steps back. My back is almost through the doorway.

“You most certainly can.” She gives me a carnivorous smile.

“I have someone,” I say, again trying to fight off her seduction.
“It wouldn’t be right.”

“Come now. We’re in the Mind Dimension. It’s all within the mind. This experience would be no different than having a fantasy. You know you’ll have fantasies about me anyway.”

She’s right. I will have fantasies about this later, or nightmares—time will tell. Though not all of my blood is in my brain, I begin piecing together clues as to her agenda. She must’ve decided
to help the Elders’ cause by seducing me. She must think that sex with her will be so amazing, so addictive, that I’ll say yes to anything to do it again.

It’s disturbing, but it does seem to remove her from my list of Super Pusher suspects. I don’t think that person would want to fuck me so literally.

“How about I show you a dance I’ve developed?” she says and takes off her shawl.

“Victoria,”
I say, trying to keep my voice firm. “Thank you for the tour, but I’d like to see the rest of the Castle on my own.”

“Are you sure?” She moves her body in a way that makes her flute-playing, and every porn I’ve ever seen, look G-rated in comparison.

I don’t trust myself to stick around for a conversation. I rotate on the ball of my foot, and once I’m facing the door, I rush out, no longer worried
about doing it with dignity.

Once outside, I take deep breaths, conjuring up thoughts of cold showers and baseball.

As I struggle to calm myself, I walk aimlessly through the Castle.

When I’m sure I’m not being followed, I enter a room.

It looks like a library—a huge library. The shelves seem to span for miles.

“Darren,” says a familiar voice. “What the hell are you doing here?”

It takes
me a moment to fully understand whom I’m seeing.

It’s Bill, but everyone calls him William Pierce.

He’s also known as my boss.

Chapter 10

O
nce the gift of speech comes back to me, I say, “I think a better question is, what are
you
doing here?”

“I’m being vetted for an Ambassadorship.” Bill closes the book he was leafing through. “What about you?”

“I guess I am too. Only it’s complicated.”

He looks at me the way he always does at meetings when I reveal information slowly for drama. His body language is telling
me,
Get on with it already.

I look at him, wondering if this man I’ve known and respected for so long could be the Super Pusher. Could he be the person Mimir tried to warn me about? I find this very hard to believe. Firstly, if I am that bad at judging someone’s character, I might as well suspect every Guide close to me. Secondly, how could Mimir know Bill is here, which he would’ve had to know
if Bill is the one he was warning me about? That logic points more toward the Elders—the only people rumored to be able to reach Level 2.

In the end, as much as I trust Bill, I decide to err on the side of caution and tell him only what the Super Pusher would already know, plus information that everyone on the Island will soon learn anyway. It should be relatively safe; if there’s one person
who can keep a secret, it’s Bill.

So I proceed to tell him that the Elders want me to be the harbinger of peace between two groups whose blood I share. As I tell him all these things, his eyes get wider and wider, especially when I reveal my mixed heritage.

“You’re part Reader?” He stares at me. “But the rumors say it’s not possible.”

“Clearly the rumors are wrong.”

“I never gave it much thought.
I mean, who would try to have a mixed-blood child? Not to mention how unlikely it is, statistically, for a Reader and a Guide to meet and fall in love. I haven’t met a single Reader in my life, so what’s the likelihood that the one I do meet turns out to be a woman and one I’d want to have a kid with, even if it wasn’t taboo, which it is?” With his one free hand, Bill rubs his temple as he
often does during meetings at the fund.

“Yeah.” I walk up to the bookshelf and brush it with my fingers. It’s free of dust and impeccably polished, which makes it feel nice and smooth to the touch. “My story is a hard one for people to digest, that’s for sure. All things considered, you’re taking it surprisingly well.”

“I told you I thought you were one of the other guys, so this sort of confirms
my initial gut feeling.” Done with his temple, Bill moves the large book he was holding from his left hand to his right.

“I still can’t believe you’d hire a Reader.” I eye the book he’s holding. I can only make out something about Statistical Analysis—classic Bill topic. “By the way, I usually just snoop around in the Mind Dimension to get you useful data for the fund. I only learned to Read
recently, and I haven’t been back to work since.”

“Well, that’s about to change, I hope,” he says with a rare-for-Bill smile.

“Is it?” I try not to sound sly.

“Come now, Darren. That’s an amazingly useful skill. You know that when all of this blows over, I’ll want you to Read a few CEOs.”

“Sure.” I give him a wink. “If I make it into the office, we’ll discuss it.”

“At some point, we
will
discuss your absenteeism.” His eyes narrow. “And that of Bert’s.”

“I’m still amazed you haven’t fired me, or him.”

“He still does what I need remotely. With you, I think of it as a long-term investment. When you two do show up at the fund, my biggest concern is office morale. People’s feathers get ruffled when they see coworkers play hooky the way the two of you always do, but I solved that
problem when I announced that you and Bert now work out of the newly established Brooklyn office.”

“We don’t have a Brooklyn office,” I say. “At least, we didn’t.”

“Exactly.” He places the book back on the shelf. “But your colleagues now think there is one. More importantly, they now think of that office as the ‘exile location’—the place where employees are sent when they constantly slack off.”

“Devious. Now stop changing the subject. Tell me why the Elders want
you
as an Ambassador.” I watch for his reaction to this question. In the unlikely event that he’s my suspect, he might give something away.

“It has to do with my connections. They’re taking the idea of ‘money makes the world go round’ a little too literally,” he says casually.

His answer isn’t suspicious. In fact, it makes
a lot of sense. Even though I’m fuzzy about Ambassadors’ duties, the Elders can’t go wrong with choosing someone of Bill’s caliber. “Are you going to accept the position?” I ask.

“I’d rather not,” he says. “You know how busy I am.”

Bill is famous for arriving at the fund before the earliest bird gets in, and staying well after the last person leaves.

“I do, but will they take no for an answer?”

“They will when I tell them that I have a much better candidate than myself.”

“You do?”

“Liz Johnson. You know her well.”

“My shrink as an Ambassador?” I ask, stunned. “Why?”

“Many powerful people visit her couch,” Bill explains. “Not to mention the simple fact that she’s the personification of the social butterfly and knows every single Guide in at least a fifty-mile radius from Manhattan.”

“I wonder what she’ll think of this development.” I also fleetingly wonder if
she
could be the Super Pusher? That’s the most frightening thought. If she were, my enemy would know me better than even my friends and family. As soon as the thought comes to me, I dismiss it. I know her Guiding ‘tone of voice,’ and it’s not the same as that of the Super Pusher in the cops’ heads at the funeral.

“She’ll
be thrilled, I’m sure.” His lips quirk wryly.

“What do Ambassadors actually do?” I ask. “I wasn’t clear on this.”

“I haven’t been officially told as of yet, but given who the previous New York Ambassador was, I can guess. Ambassadors look out for Guides’ interests. They influence regular people, the Unencumbered, to follow the general direction decided on at this island. Politics, economy, science—I
suspect they have a hand in everything that matters in the world.”

“And there’s one in every city?”

He shakes his head. “There’s usually one in strategic locations. New York has had one for a while. After he died, George looked after things from New Jersey, but with the Washington Ambassador retiring, I think George will be sent there, so someone will need to handle affairs in New York.”

“You’re
very well informed for someone who doesn’t yet have an official job offer,” I say, not surprised. Bill always had a way of knowing things; Bert and I are just one of his many means of acquiring information.

“So why are you here?” Bill asks. As usual, he doesn’t take the bait to reveal how he knows things he shouldn’t. “You only told me what the Elders want from you, not the reverse.”

“If I tell
you, will you be obligated to tell the Elders?” I shift my weight from foot to foot.

“Certainly not.”

“Would you be offended if I don’t tell you why I came? It’s not that I don’t trust you . . .”

He shrugs. “Do what you want. I was only trying to help.”

I make a quick decision to tell him at least one part of what I need. After all, the Super Pusher is aware of my Level 2 capabilities, so
that topic is safe to broach. “I want to learn how to Split once I’m already in the Mind Dimension.”