Fun with mind control, p.3
Fun With Mind Control, page 3
So, he resisted the growing attraction as he took a few snaps, trying to vary the angles and the motion to capture the three-dimensional engravings as thoroughly as he could.
They reminded him of Sanskrit, or maybe Tibetan. His mind was already rifling through a list of his contacts who were better versed in linguistics and who hadn't been corrupted by the mainstream narrative; Gunnar might have something. Although it was anyone's guess who would still be on his side. Or what new allies he might find in unexpected places. An event like this inevitably shook up people's alignments.
The altar really was admirably crafted. He found himself wondering what kind of creatures these were that they could so quickly and so intricately craft something as big as the flying buttresses, something as small and intricate as the characters before him.
He was growing increasingly certain the altar held the key to everything. If he could just crack its riddle, he would understand everything he needed to know about the newcomers.
Ronan leaned in closer, trying to distinguish one line of writing, to find even a starting point for how one would go about reading this. It was fascinating, almost hypnotic.
Too late, he realized his hand was already moving up to touch the stone.
With a surge of panic, he tried to pull back just as his fingers touched the surface of the altar.
A deep peace settled over him. He peered at the branching script inside the altar, and it seemed to be just on the edge of making sense, although suddenly it seemed far less urgent to make sense of it.
There was some little urge nagging at the back of his mind. He couldn't quite place it. He began to drift, profoundly at peace, and somehow in the swirls of the etched inscriptions he began to see the swirls of a galaxy, a great star field in a shining black sky. It was utterly alien, unutterably distant, and yet something about it felt familiar, like coming home at last.
The nagging intensified, and suddenly he remembered. He pulled his fingers off the stone and stumbled back, aghast.
It had almost gotten him. It had started to draw him in. And the worst part was that he liked it. He wanted to return. Wanted to rest there, in the embrace of that peace, to be absorbed forever in the flowing lettering etched into the blue altar.
He scrambled backward, got to his feet. There was a dangerous euphoria already edging in on his mind, and he fought it off.
The war in his head almost pushed him to nausea. With an effort, he clamped down, took hold of himself, and half ran as well as his sluggish body could manage. At last he plunged back out through the doorway robed in blue crystal into the fresh air under the open sky, a distant star field still hanging before him in his mind's eye.
Chapter Five
At the sound of someone coming in the front door, Ellie peeked out of the kitchen to see Gus meandering in.
He beamed. "Ah, Ellie. I was just thinking it was about time for second breakfast."
"Second breakfast?"
"I grabbed a little something on my way out. I think it was before you were up."
That explained the dirty bowl on the table. And the jug of milk on the counter. With considerable effort, Ellie smiled instead of gritting her teeth. "And now you want more."
"Got it in one." He bustled into the kitchen, rubbing his hands in anticipation, like someone who'd learned his mannerisms from watching too many old cartoons. "I've been communing with them for hours. Really works up an appetite. Cereal would be fine."
Stay humble. Stay kind.
"Sure." She started making him a bowl of cereal. "What do you mean, 'communing'?"
He waved this away. "You'll find out soon enough, I'm sure. They seem to be making moves."
She didn't have to ask who they were.
"You can say that again. What's the deal with the church building?"
He just gave a soft laugh, almost regretful, and said nothing.
Of course. He'd been through a lot. Just because the church building was on her mind didn't mean Gus was going to be ready to dive right into some big discussion about what the aliens were up to. Which was a shame, because he seemed like Lake Peculiar's best chance at figuring them out.
"Look," Ellie said. "I know it's been difficult. There's the fete getting rained out right at the critical moment, then that thing with your girlfriend."
"Oh, she was never my girlfriend. One tries to be nice. Throw them a bone. You meet someone in person, it's never quite going to be the same as it was online. You've got to take these things on a case-by-case basis. No expectations. You know?"
"Sure. Sure." A beat passed, and curiosity defeated patience. "I was wondering if we could talk a little bit. About next steps."
"Absolutely. I'm all about next steps. That's what I always say, actually. You never get anywhere until you start with next steps. In fact, that's just what I was trying to get Sam to understand the other day. Sam, my boy, I told him—”
"Right. I can see that. The thing is, I'm kind of trying to understand what happened last night. To the church building. And since you seem to be the closest to the aliens so far—"
"Absolutely."
Ellie could have sworn Gus visibly puffed up. Like if you crossed a xenobiologist with a frog. She barely kept back a laugh.
Gus was too busy congratulating himself to notice. "I'd say I've developed a fair familiarity with our new friends already." He looked off in the middle distance, letting a dreamy sort of gaze into his eyes. "They speak to me, you know. Of this and that. Images, mostly. It's hard to put into words. It's hard to understand if you haven't partaken."
"And what are they telling you about the building? Why did they do that? Did they intend it as a favor or what?"
"Yes, I'd say so. Think of it as a blessing. A gift from our visitors from above. I like to think of it as a peace offering. You know? We come in peace. Take me to your leader."
"Fear not," murmured Ellie.
"Exactly."
"When you say you like to think of it that way—” Ellie hesitated. “Is that what they've told you, or are you just speculating?"
"Oh, very much so. Very much so. I wouldn't be too concerned about that at all."
"Wait, which one?"
Gus's brow furrowed in a moment of confusion, then his bland smile resurfaced.
"I find I'm getting less and less concerned with our small human obsession with labels and categories. 'Which one' this and 'why would you' that. Where does it really get us, in the end? You know?"
Ellie gritted her teeth. This was getting nowhere, but Gus was the only source she had, such as he was, and this was critical information.
"Is it permanent? The new roof?"
"Seems pretty permanent to me," chuckled Gus. "It's not like a huge crystal church is going to evaporate overnight, right?"
"I have no idea. It magically appeared overnight, didn't it?"
"I think it's a little dismissive to call it magic. Any sufficiently advanced technology, et cetera. No, no, Pastor. I wouldn't worry your head over your precious roof disappearing."
"I'll decide what to worry about, Gus. Do you have any solid information for me here? Are they going to want anything in return? Are they taking over? For all we know, their next move is filling in the rest of the building with blue crystal. Is it safe to keep holding services there?"
"I can see you've got a lot of questions. And I admire that. I respect it. Let me tell you what I'm going to do. I'll go have a little chat with them, so to speak. Commune for a bit. See if I can't get you some answers. In the meantime, maybe you can try to undo some of this … Sam and Journey business."
"What, you mean break them up?"
Gus tossed his head back in a theatrical gust of laughter.
"Ha ha ha. Oh, Pastor Ellie. I love where your head's at. But no, I wouldn't do that to my dear friend and my girl — obviously not girlfriend. Friend. Acquaintance, really. No. Let them have their fun. I meant the seeds of doubt they're trying to sow in the town. What we need here is a united front, just like our guests. You know? We want to stand together, or else we shall all fall apart. Or whatever. The last thing we need right now is a moment of hesitation. I'm starting to think these guys are a hive mind. Definitely some kind of psionic powers. If we're all dilly-dallying around trying to figure out what we’re supposed to think, contradicting each other, infighting, with the back and forth and the what have you, they're going to realize we're not worth their time. They'll find another town to help, one that's worthy of their attention. You know? That's ready to accept them. And — don't take this the wrong way, I haven't been here long — but it's pretty obvious Lake Peculiar needs all the help it can get."
"It's been a rough couple of years," Ellie said. She had meant it as a concession, but it came out sounding defensive.
"So let's take all the help we can get. I'm not just talking about restoring Lake Peculiar to some kind of okay-ness. I'm talking about a brave new world."
Unfortunate choice of words, Ellie thought. But you're not wrong.
"And you’re sure they're safe? We're not leading people into some kind of … trap or something?"
Gus chuckled again and, despite her irritation, Ellie’s fears melted away a little. There was such a jolly confidence in that chuckle, she couldn't help but feel like she'd been acting a little silly. It was like the old Seinfeld "get out of here."
"No trap. Or at least, if there is, I guess I'm walking straight into it myself," he said with a grin. "I'm telling you, Ellie. Man-to-man. I mean … sorry. Straight from the horse's mouth or whatever. These guys are great. It's totally natural that people are going to be a little worried at first. People don't like change. I get that. But you start seeing the things I'm seeing, it's enlightening. It's a whole new thing. This town could get on the map. I mean, what do you have? St. Paul? Forget that. Lake Peculiar, capital of the Midwestern Region of the New Order. You like that?"
Actually, Ellie didn't really like the sound of that at all, but she took his point.
"So, you think they're here to what — take over? Institute some kind of new order?"
"No, no, no. It was just a figure of speech. I'm just saying they've got amazing things to teach us. Whole new horizons. They might even be able to share some of their psionic powers, teach us how to use that blue crystal stuff. Imagine that. Free housing for everybody overnight. Total clarity and communication. World peace. What have you. I don't even know what all. Those are just examples."
"Okay. Look. I get what you're saying about confusion. I'm still figuring out what I think about the aliens, but I don't want the town tearing itself apart before we even know out what's going on."
"Exactly. Just what I was saying myself."
"I'll talk with some people. Try to make sure we're all on the same page, keep anyone from doing something rash. But only as long as things stay calm. Aliens change their tune, we pull back at the first sign of danger, right?"
"Absolutely. Not even a question. Safety first. Caveat emptor. Mano a mano. You know I've always said that."
She cocked an eyebrow at him. "Anyone ever told you you're totally full of bullshit, Gus?"
"Absolutely. I get that all the time. Just the cost of doing business."
He grinned, and she found herself laughing along with him. It was like he realized what an idiot he was being, and somehow that made it all okay. Like it was just a front, and the real Gus was in there somewhere, pulling the levers of the big outward facing buffoon and having a grand old chuckle about it all, and somehow the impression that this was all just a dumb outward façade made the invisible inner Gus that much easier to trust, maybe even to like.
She peered at him for a long moment, weighing the crazy new idea forming in her mind. Just crazy enough to work, maybe. She nodded. Why not?
"If you're up for it, I have got one other little mission for you."
A sinister smile spread on Gus's face. She hadn't phrased it that way with the express intention of guaranteeing his interest, but she realized in retrospect that she'd played it perfectly.
"E-e-excellent. Tell me all."
"I knew I could count on you. Tell me, Gus. How would you feel about infiltrating the Sons of Knute?"
Chapter Six
When Ronan finally emerged from the Sapphire Cathedral, the sun was higher than he expected. A crowd had begun to gather tentatively on the church lawn, and now that they'd caught his attention, he realized it was the growing chatter of worried and curious voices that had broken him out of his research trance.
He examined his thought processes again. Had the episode at the altar artificially damped his attentiveness to his surroundings? It was always a slightly unreliable process using one’s rational capacities to evaluate one’s rational capacities — after all, if they'd been skewed, they might be incapable of telling you they were skewed — but he'd had a lot of practice over the years. The trick was to watch not whether your brain thought you were fine, but why. Unusual patterns of self-justification were a red flag.
And, in fact, it seemed there was a red flag waving in this case.
He felt pretty sure he'd just gotten absorbed in his research
That was a problem. Feelings lie, and Ronan didn't get absorbed enough to lose situational awareness in new and potentially dangerous situations.
It would happen sometimes when he was in his basement, sure. In a predictable environment with his safeguards in place, he could let himself get as absorbed as he wanted. But in the field, he'd trained himself over long years to stay alert.
His work took him into dangerous areas. Sometimes it even required illegal access to restricted facilities. Area 51 was a bit of a misnomer — that was just a zone of desert, and the relevant facility was actually Groom Lake — but he'd been there on a few occasions and barely evaded capture twice. And his research on some key Central American sites had gotten him into a few hairy situations, too. It was only his deep training in situational awareness that had saved his skin on those occasions.
So even confident he'd probably just drifted a bit and it was fine, he knew he hadn't just drifted, which implied it wasn't exactly fine.
He didn't know yet exactly how much danger it implied, but it was worth knowing they were able to blur his perceptions.
Definitely a red flag.
"A seizure!" cried a woman in the crowd, snapping Ronan out of his self-reflection. "She's having a seizure. Oh, my sweet baby."
A girl lay on the ground, her little body shaking and shuddering.
The crowd began gathering around, torn between the urges to help and to keep a respectful distance.
"Stay back. Give her some room." Ronan stepped forward, checked his watch, saw that the girl's mother was following proper procedure. Still, he remained poised to intervene if needed.
There was a gasp and a swell of murmuring from the crowd. Ronan looked up just in time to see it parting in fear before a white figure a head taller than the humans.
Someone shrieked, but the titan paid it no mind. It moved like a marble statue come to life, swift and graceful. It was pale white and glossy, beautifully muscled, completely bald. Its eyes were black with almost no whites, mysterious and intense.
"Get away! Get away, you … thing!" shrieked the girl's mother, beating at its arm. It paid no attention whatsoever. Its movement was deceptively graceful, quick and liquid and hypnotic. A flash of white, a scattering of the crowd, and then it was kneeling beside the girl.
"Hey!" cried Ronan. "Stay back. I'm warning you—"
The titan paid no attention. It grasped the seizing girl's head in two huge white hands.
Ronan pulled his knife, tensed to plunge it into the titan's belly. But two or three bystanders grabbed his arm. Reflexively, he resisted, but within moments, his mind caught up with him. There was no way he'd be quick enough to take out the titan with a knife, and chances were the attempt would dangerously escalate the situation.
"Get away from my baby!" shrilled the mother, and now other voices were rising in support.
The titan's eyes closed. Ronan couldn't take his attention off the pale white hands covering her hair and ears, the thumbs resting along her cheekbones. It could crush her skull without trying. The mother dissolved into desperate sobs. Ronan's fist clenched uselessly on the knife handle.
The girl's body stopped shuddering. Her eyes opened. The titan removed its hands.
"Mommy?" said the girl.
"My baby! Oh, Ana!"
The girl's mother swept her up in her arms and began sobbing, then thrust her out at arm's length. "Let me look at you. Oh, my sweet baby."
"You always do that," protested the girl.
Ronan studied her. She seemed happy, alert, composed. None of the usual postictal symptoms. She was fine. Better than fine. Like the seizure had never happened.
The titan rose and began walking back. This time when the crowd parted, it was in awe, not fear.
"Wait!" cried the mother.
It turned back to look at her. It was impossible to know whether it had understood what she said or if it was just responding to the sound.
"Thank you," said the mother. "I'm sorry. I just — thank you."
The titan reached out toward her.
It took Ronan a moment to parse the gesture, even though it was the most common thing in the world. When he realized what was happening, he almost laughed aloud.
A handshake.
"Oh." With a broken smile, the mother, still hugging her child, reached around her little girl to shake the titan's hand. Her eyes widened for a fleeting moment, then it released her and resumed its walk back to its original position by the church building.
A sprinkle of applause spattered through the crowd.
As if some invisible polarity had reversed, now the crowd trailed after the titan instead of parting for it. Hands reached out to touch the pale white skin as the crowd pressed close around the miracle worker.
Ronan wasn't so easily taken in.
"Someone get her to a doctor," he barked. "Get her checked out right away. We have no idea whether it even did anything." He turned to the mother. "How long do her seizures usually last?"
