____________________________ | | /)| KRISTEN'S BOOKSHELF |(\ / )| DIRECTORIES |( \ __( (|____________________________|) )__ ((( \ \ > /_) ( \ < / / ))) (\\\ \ \_/ / \ \_/ / ///) \ / \ / \ _/ \_ / / / \ \ o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o The Bookshelf Directories offer a very wide variety of stories. o o They have been submitted by people from all over the world. Also o o from alt.sex.stories (Newsgroups). There is no particular order o o other than offering them to you in alphabetical directories. o o o o All works are copyrighted to the author and may not be used for o o profit without obtaining the author's permission in advance. o o o o Lest we forget!!! This story was produced as adult entertainment o o and should not be read by minors. o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o Lonely Corridor - 4 (MF, Tv-parody) by Demara (dforest@weir.net) (c) 1997 Chapter 6 Krystal awoke the following morning to sunlight streaming through the window. The warm light made her feel cozy and content in her safe cocoon. She got out of bed and walked on slippered feet to the kitchen where she poured herself a glass of cold water. Looking back through the doorway, she noticed that the message light was blinking on her intercom. She walked to it and pressed the message play button. "Ms. Forest. There was a man here looking for you. You were not answering your calls. He left a note here at the front desk. You may pick it up at anytime." Harold the security guard had been on duty last night. He knew that she did not receive any visitors. "I wonder who it was." I thought as I slipped on a pair of shoes. I had seen women walking the streets wearing much the same clothing as I am. After slipping my key into my pocket I started to the front desk. "Hello, I received a message that there was a message left for me." She said to the young man working the desk. "You are?" "He's new." I thought. "Ms. Forest." "Here it is, ma'am." He said while staring at her. He blushed then said, "you are beautiful. Do you have a boyfriend?" He said it quickly as if he was afraid of losing his courage if he waited to complete each word before progressing to the next. I raised my eyebrows and looked back at him, squarely in the face. "I'm not beautiful; but, thank you for saying I am. And, no I do not have a boyfriend. I would not have enough time to give one if I had one." I turned and walked to the elevator aware of his eyes following me every step of the way. I escaped into the safety of the elevator and pressed the button for my floor. Once I was back in the apartment, I opened the note, settling into one of the plush chairs in the living room. Hello, Krystal I'm in New York. I want to see you if I may. I though you might pick the most protected private building in the city. I was hoping you would at any rate. I am staying at the hotel I talked about during our satellite tracking experiment. Please, come see me if you can. Markham "You are in New York? Why did you come here, Markham? You place us both in danger." She whispered. She quickly took a shower and dressed in a new pair of black pants and a matching black silk shirt and vest, her usual wardrobe. In the computer room, she checked the locations of each of the people she was monitoring, noticing that Markham was not home. "Of course, he is not home, he is here, in New York." But, she noticed that there were timers and tape machines located prominently through the house. "He rigged the house; so, The Centre would think that he is still there. Very clever, Markham." She smiled. She carefully locked her apartment and left for the parking garage. She retrieved her car and drove to Markham's hotel. She told the vale to direct her to a parking location; she would prefer to park her own car. Once the car was parked, she hurried into the lobby and strode purposefully past the front desk to the elevators. She rode the elevator to the seventh floor and walked to room seven. She knocked on the door and heard Markham say he would be right there. "I knew you would come. Which place were you staying? I tried eighteen places hoping that you would be there. I could only ask for Ms. Forests not knowing what first name you where using. Come in, please. Let me look at you." Markham looked her over from head to toe. He waved her over to the center of the front room and motioned for her to have a seat. "May I get you something to eat?" "No, thank you. Perhaps we will get something later." "Have you been eating well? You look even thinner now than you did at The Centre." "I am eating just fine, Markham, really." I said without meeting his eyes. "Well." He paused. "We can talk about your eating habits later. How are you coming with locating Jarod? You are trying to find him, right? I really meant it when I said for you to return his file to him. Give him his life back." "Yes, I am looking. I think I was close in Oregon. I do not know why or how I know I was close. I is a feeling." I paused debating about how much to tell him about my pretending excursion. How much did he really know. For that matter how much did I really know. "I tried to become Jarod." There I said it. It was out in the open. Markham just stared at me. His mouth opened slightly as if he wanted to say something. He couldn't make the words. I think he realized how dif- ficult an admission I had just made and he didn't know how to respond. "What are you feeling, thinking, Markham?" I thought to myself. I looked him directly in the eyes and suddenly I wasn't me anymore. "How could she had done it? Without any training, without any guidance, what was she thinking?" Markham, no, I thought to myself. "What should I say? If I encourage her she could very well attempt it again and lose herself. This is what I had feared from the very beginning with her." I cleared my throat. "How did it go?" I jolted back into myself; momentarily dizzy as my consciousness came back into existence. "He was asking many of the same questions I had asked of myself." I thought. "I think it went very well for my not having any guidance." I noticed the deepening of his look, the difference in the gleem of his eye. He knew I had listened' to his thoughts. I smiled slightly attempting to appear less threatening. I did not want Markham of all people to be frightened of me; at least not more afraid of he than he already was. "You were listening." He looked around and finally let his eyes come to rest on the coffee table slowly boring a hole through it. "Do you want to answer the questions I had?" Well, your first question was how I could have done it. I wanted answers. You stated that the people who may be able to give me answers were Jarod and Jacob. I thought the easiest way for me to get answers would be to become one of them. And, since I know more information about Jarod, I decided to become him." I thought about how I should proceed next. I took a deep breath and let it out slowly to releave some of the tension I was feeling. I tried hard not to let it show how difficult I was finding this conversation. "I think with training and guidance I would have known better how to proceed with attempting become Jarod. But, I started by having the computer read me his personal file including his early test results. I thought if I knew and understood what he had been when he first started at The Centre I could understand who he is now." "But, if you started at the beginning that is where you would have started. You would have become the young Jarod. The boy he was. Not the man he is now." "I found that out soon enough. I watched. No, let me correct that, I built a model of the Empire State Building making slight changes to the structure to better protect it against high winds. I told people that I was finished that I wanted my mom and dad." I was slowly becoming young Jarod again as I spoke. The words were becoming his not mine. "I wanted my mom and dad. I cried myself to sleep that first night and then cried on Sydney's shoulder the next day when he told me my mom and dad didn't want me." A tap on my shoulder brought me back to the present with a shock. I was suddenly back in a hotel room with Markham. I had my legs hugged to my chest and small, silent tears were sliding down my cheeks. I looked at Markham and read the shock and dispair displayed on his face. He realized what had just happened. He knew how the early scenes had effected me; how they had now scarred my psyche just as they had scarred Jarod's. "Answer me just one question, are you able to control it?" He looked at me with concern. He already knew the answer, yet, he wanted to hear from me that I couldn't control it. As I turned away from him, I felt his hand touch the side of my face and pull it back to look at him. "Please just tell me you can control it. Tell me you can control it some. Don't tell me you cannot control it at all." I realized with a jolt that I had become Markham again as soon as I had looked into his eyes. I was looking at myself. My eyes were slightly glazed over. I had a far away look in my eyes. "I am old." I realized. I may not be old in years; but, I was old in mind. I shook my head away from his hand. "Markham." I took a deep breath and released it. "I can control it. As long as I do not have a reason to connect to the other person, their personality does not override mine." I looked at him and read the realization that he knew. He knew I had become him again. "You're a pretender, too?" I realized with a shock. He looked away from me and then stood and began pacing the floor. "The Centre attempted to train me as a pretender when I came there originally. I couldn't do it. I think I was too old to learn how to differentiate between the perpetrator and the victim. I kept becoming the victim. I was useless to them. But, I showed great skill at training other pretenders and savants. Even when I was as young as eleven and twelve, I was able to draw out the skills in a person. So, they trained me to be a trainer." He stopped pacing and walked over to me. "That is how I knew how to prevent my thoughts and my emotions from effecting you." "What is happening now?" "I don't know. Perhaps because you forced yourself to pretend, to become someone else I do not have the skills to block you anymore." I looked at the arm of chair were I was slowly tracing an infinity. The slow, connecting circles took shape beneath my fingers. An afterimage completed the picture as I drew it. "I need to look something up at home. Let's meet for dinner, Markham. I will bring some of my documentation." His face darkened at my sudden mood swing; but, he took it in stride. I was able to look him straight in the eye and all I saw was him, I did not see myself through his eyes. "I was able to control it if I tried hard enough." I thought. To him I said, "I will be alright. Where would you like to meet?" "Let's meet at the Polo Club. It is downstairs and they have excellent food. I would rather not be seen that much." "Six o'clock?" "I will see you then." I quickly left his apartment and hurried to my car. The vale glared at me as I ignored him and retreived my own car. I maneuvered my way through the traffic until I came to my apartment building. Once safely inside, I hurried up to my apartment climbing the stairs instead of waiting for the elevator. I had remembered something while I was at Markham's hotel room; something I had forgotten about. I locked the door behind me almost as an afterthought. I was more concerned with what I needed to find. In the computer room I went directly to my file and drew out the case containing all my DSA's. These contained my life in a way. I could remember everything clearly by watching them. Using my own memory was fuzzy, unclear, I needed the gently reminder that they provided. I leafed through the disks which I had placed in order. I pulled the disk out for the first portion of the year 1970. Something I had seen through Jarod's eyes had struck a nerve. I had remembered some- thing then; but, I had not realized it at the time. I hurried back to Jarod's file and pulled a corresponding disk from his collection. I brought both of them to my workstation and sat down. I already knew what I was going to find when I watched them. I was going to realize another consequence of my abilities, my skills. He had seen what had happened and I think he realized what had happened. I took a deep breath and turned on the reader. I inserted my DSA and started to watch as I was instructed to discover possible leaks in an organization. A room came into view. A young girl of perhaps ten was sitting at a table. On that table rested a stack of files. Markham was standing oppo- site her and was reading instructions from a notepad, "read through each of those files. From the information provided tell me if the individual is betraying his or her company. The first file contains data about the company and about what activities in which the traitor has been envolved. If you have a question you may ask it; but, I will need to clear the answer through others. Do you understand?" The little girl nodded her head and pulled the first file toward her. Not knowing what exactly to look for every fact was absorbed and set aside for comparison with the employee information. Markham stepped away and walked to the door. Once outside he was stopped by a man's voice from the shadows. "Will she be able to find the traitor, Markham?" A harsh raspy breath was released and another pulled into the man's lungs. "Are you the traitor? Or are you one of them? Is that what she is going to find?" All she could see of the man was his gleaming eyes. He enjoyed this. He wanted to find someone to punish, to kill if necessary. Krystal paused the display and attempted to zoom in on the man in the shadows. She lightened the picture and finally drew some detail from the picture. The man who called himself Mr. Raines. She stared at the picture until her head began to hurt. Then suddenly, "You know what Jarod found. Don't you? But, we know that she is far superiour to him. Will she find the same people to be traitors?" She drew another raspy breath. "Jarod picked you as a traitor; but, he would not name Sydney. Will yours do the same thing? Refuse to name her own keeper as a traitor? Have you been very nice to her, Markham? Will she protect you?" "Those are Centre files?" Markham's shocked look spoke volumes. He hadn't known. They had never told him. "I had no idea that you were looking for a traitor in our ranks. If I am a traitor and she finds me to be one, I will be punished?" An evil, eerie laugh escaped my lips. I turned and left the room, the door giving a harsh, final click. I was me again staring at that monsters face. I restarted the DSA and watched as the previous scene played out. All through the time, the little girl, me, contentedly read the files from the company and its employees. I watched as I distributed the files into several stacks. This stack held those who could not possibly be traitors. This one had traitors filed into it. And, the final one did not contain enough information for me to be certain. I looked up as Markham stepped back into the room. He wore a guarded look as he settled into a chair. When I reached the bottom of the initial stack, I opened the first file about which I had a question. I waved Markham over to the table and asked him several questions about the man profiled within noticing several similarities between the profile and Markham. "Was it possible for the people contained in these files to be from this place?" I thought. "Anything is possible here." A part of me replied. "Markham, what will the punishment be for the people I name as traitors?" "I don't know. They will probably be fired, eliminated from the company." I looked at him, closely. Studying his face and noticing the lines of stress that were wrought upon it. I looked away not wanting to see what he knew. "He was one of the people I had questions about. He was the one in this file." "I don't think this one is doing these things. If he were, he would have saved another individual than the ones that were saved." I placed the file in the nontraitor stack and picked up the next one. Something in it also reminded me of someone I had been told about. The little boy I had seen several years ago had a keeper named Sydney. The profile was like his. I wonder what had happened to him. The little boy who couldn't picture a killer; but, could clearly feel the emotions of those people. I wouldn't take Sydney away from him. That file followed Markham's. Eventually, I compiled a stack of thirteen files in the traitors stack. I read through them again looking for any excuse to remove one. Once I finished, I had three employees files that I could not find a reason to remove. I handed the files to Markham and said that I could not be certain about the other files; but, these were the ones about which I was absolutely certain. He took the files and glanced at each of them. He looked at me closely attempting to read what I was thinking. He met a well built wall that seemed to protect me. Slowly, he walked to the door and left, shortly afterward a man came in and said he was going to take me back to my room. "Markham is in a meeting; so, come with me." I reached up and removed the DSA, plugging Jarod's in its place. I watched as a boy slightly older than the one I had seen working on the Kennedy assasination came into view. He was given the same set of files as I had been. But, Sydney never left the room. The same set of instructions were given and Jarod started reading through the information the files contained. He must have noticed the similarity of one the profiles to his own keeper, Sydney; because, his method of choosing the traitors' changed. Eventually, he had five files he handed to Sydney. I zoomed in on the file numbers comparing them to the numbers from my own files. Only one file number matched. I remember the woman described within those pages. I reached into the file cabinet next to the workstation and pulled it out, Centre Employee File - Catherine P. I opened the file and began reading about the woman who both Jarod and I had picked as a traitor to The Centre. She committed suicide on an elevator. "More likely she was murdered on that elevator." I thought to myself. I had forgotten that I had left the DSA playing. I looked up quickly as I heard screams and gun shots. I watched as a young girl was dragged screaming and crying into the room. Jarod was shouting that they were going to hurt her. "Ma ma." I screamed. I had seen a man draw a gun; but, I had not seen him pull the trigger even though I had been looking directly at the gun. I had heard the click of metal on metal as the hammer fell. I had seen the puff of smoke as the gunpowder ignited. I saw everything in the blink of an eye, yet, everything was in slow motion and then I was pulled into another room. I was being pulled away. I reached for the DSA and pulled it from the reader, surprised at the force I had used. I drew back into myself and rewound the event in my mind. I watched it play out and then actually became the little girl and participated. I had been walking to Sydney's office to meet my mother. She was going to take me shopping today. I wanted a new dress and matching shoes. I was very happy that I would be leaving The Centre for a while. I liked my daddy's office and work; but, I liked shopping better and momma took me for that. I looked down the hallway and noticed Momma talking to several men. I didn't see Sydney. One of the men pushed her and she fell into the wall. I ran down the hallway to try to stop them. One of them noticed me and said to get me out of the way. The mean looking man drew a gun and pointed it at my mom. Another man grabbed my arms and began dragging me toward a door. I screamed and kicked at him; but, he would not let me go. He just held on. "Momma!" I screamed. Maybe someone will come and help. I saw the gun fire and my mom fall into the now open elevator. She had fallen against the button when she hit the wall. The man shot her again and I heard several more shots after I was dragged into the room. Sydney was there with a little boy. He was screaming too. I couldn't stop crying. I stopped. Who was the little girl? Was she still alive? Her father office and workplace. He must have worked at The Centre. I wonder if he still does or was he eliminated too. I wiped tears from my face with a tissue. I started to read Catherine P.'s file. She had listed her name as Catherine M. Parker. She was in her thirties when they had killed her. Her husband was listed as participating on the board of directors at the time. Now, he was the director of The Centre. He had continued climbing even after the activities of his wife. Had he ordered her death? Did he have her killed to advance, to guarentee his position with The Centre? I pulled his file and read quickly through it. Nothing inside indicated, he gave the order to kill her. The only document it held that delt with the incident was a release of responsibility stating that The Centre was not responsible for his wife's suicide. Did he even know the truth? Did his daughter realize the truth? I was positive that she had blanked the episode from her memory. I had to find her. Chapter 7 I glanced at the clock on the desk, five o'clock. I needed to get ready to meet Markham for dinner. I knew that the Polo Club was a fancy restaurant that required one to be well dressed. My usual black ensemble was not going to be suitable. I gathered the documentation I had compiled through the afternoon and placed it along with one of my portable DSA readers on the table in the living room next to the door. I took a shower and washed my hair braiding it and rolling it into a loose bun similar to how I had seen displayed in a magazine. I applied a small amount of make-up which I didn't think helped. I looked through my closet and wondered what I was going to wear. Because of my upbringing at The Centre I had no real trouble with any style of clothing. Here in the real world; though, people paid attention to such things; so, when I had first shopped for clothing I had purchased several pieces of clothing that the salespeople had recommended. None of them suited my personality, in my opinion; but, they did look striking. I did want to wear something with which I would be comfortable; so, I chose a beautiful long black, brushed velvet split skirt, lined in silk which fell to just below my knees. Once on it gently brushed my bare skin. I paired it with a black silk shirt and a long deep red vest which matched the shirts red piping. A long loose black jacket finished the ensemble. I chose a pair of soft leather boots in a deep, dark gray as a complement to the dark gray longcoat I was going to wear. I studied my reflect in the mirror for several minutes until I had convinced myself that what I was wearing was appropriate and looked quite good. I had to admit that to myself. Who would have guessed my background from my appearance. I allowed a small smile to touch my face. I glanced at the clock next to my bed, five-fourty. I really needed to go; but, something held me back. I identified the feeling as fear. I was actually afraid to meet Markham. I was afraid to tell him what I knew, what I had found out. Most of all I was afraid of the answers I would receive to the questions I had to ask. I gathered my newly developed courage and strode purposely to the door, picking up the keys and materials as I hurried through the door. I was alone in the elevator; but, the lobby was filled with people readying themselves for an evening out. I felt eyes following me. Eyes of both men and woman followed me through the lobby and I breathed a sigh of releif when the garage door closed behind me blocking me from their view. I was surprised that I would draw their attention. I believed that I was far too tall at just over six feet and I was far too thin for my height. I had plain hair and a plain face. I could dress it up but the facts were still there. Once in the car I drove quickly to the hotel and parked my car. Again, to the dismay of the vale; but, he ignored it when I handed him a five dollar tip. I was learning quickly. I forced a smile to my face as I hurried into the Polo Club. I felt somewhat out of place carrying a large Haliburton briefcase and a large leather satchel of papers; but, I soon noticed several other men and women who had their briefcases at their tables. I guess others bring work to dinner. Markham was standing next to the bar with a drink in his hand. He stared at me; his eyes wide and his mouth slightly ajar. My smile faded quickly as I wondered what I should do. He set his drink down and hurried over to me. He reached out his hands and pulled me toward him. He guided me to the bar. "You look wonderful. I never realized just how beautiful you are." I almost believed him; then I looked in his eyes and realized he meant every word. The bartender approached me and asked if I would like a drink. He refreshed Markham's drink while he waited for me to decide. "A Chivas Royal on the rocks please." Markham looked at me with a shocked look. "Do you have any idea what you just ordered?" He asked. "I ordered a very find scotch served in a glass with ice cubes." "But, do you have any idea what it tastes like?" "I have never tried it, no; but, how will I know if I do not try it." He was going to try to get me to change my order. "I want to try something new, Markham. And, I heard this particular drink on a DSA I watched today. I thought I would try it." I looked back to the bar as if to say the subject was closed. "Okay. But, I hope you know what you are getting yourself into." The bartender brought my drink to me and set it on a napkin in frount of me. "Place it on my tab." Markham said. The man nodded his head and walked back to the other end of the bar. "Try it. But, just take a small sip. You have never drank an alcoholic beverage before." He said to me. He need not have worried. I was a bit afraid to try it now that he had made all this fuss over it. I took a tiny sip and swallowed it. It burned like fire the entire way down. I gasped slightly and small tears seeped from the corners of my eyes. "I'm fine." I said with a cough. "I just have to get used to it. Did you reserve us a table?" "Yes, shall we take our drinks and go sit down?" "I think that would be a good idea." I picked up my briefcase and followed Markham into the dining area. The maitre'd seated us at a table in the back of the restaurant in a secluded cove. "I thought you would want some privacy. Regardless of what you were bringing, I didn't think the open floor would be appropriate." He explained. "What did you bring?" I took a drink of my Chivas and coughed lightly. "I brought some documentation of a murder." I said simply. "Shh. Don't speak about this here. If you want to discuss something like that, we can do that in the privacy of my room. Not here." "I brought a couple of DSA's I want you to watch as well as several files I want to look through." I realized with a start that he and I were equals here. There was no, Markham is the teacher, the keeper, and I am the subordinate, the student. He was looking to me for answers in as much as I was looking to him. It was an interesting and welcome change in our relationship and I was feeling an increased confidence in the change. He must have realized the change, too. His face reflected the realization that I was no longer under his control. I could leave or stay. I had my own free-will. "I will give you any answers that I can. I may not know them all." "That is all I ask." We gave our orders and enjoyed a wonderfully prepared meal. Discussing small, common information from the news reports. Our topics ranged from discoveries in science to the space program to advances in medicine. When we reached politics, I realized that we were talking as equals. He was interested in my opinion not as a lab rat or science experiment; but, instead as a fellow traveller here in the world. He was surprised that I had absorbed so much information about the world so quickly. I had been outside The Centre for just over a month now; but, I already had a strong grasp of the political scene and the published announcements from the worlds of medicine and common science. I made several comments about how little people truly were informed about new advancements. Pointing out several new' findings which we had developed in our labs decades ago that were only now being released to the public. "How like The Centre our professional establishment is. They inform the people of this country and of the world of only a tiny fraction of what they should." I said. "The political bodies of the world are very much like the figures in the tower directing everything without knowing any real information. The armed forces and police forces are much like our security. They control without question, never doing what is right over what is wrong." "Medical professionals and researchers are much like the keepers in The Centre. They direct the real power. Here in the world the real power is the people. The minions' they tend to ignore or only control. In The Centre, the real power is the pretenders and other savants that the keepers train and direct. Without us The Centre cannot exist can it? Just like without the people there would be no governments, no research, no nothing; because it would all fall apart." I was surprised as the venom I heard in my voice. I had a lot of anger inside of me directed at The Centre. I couldn't feel anger at Markham though. He risked everything to get me out, set me free. He even gave me the information that would keep me free. A part of me said, "he could have released you before this; but, he didn't to save him." I replied to that part by remembering the children he had helped release with the help of Catherine Parker. In seven years, they had rescued more than thirty children The Centre had captured or targeted. Those that The Centre had already captured and brought under its iron first were carried out through the night. They were left at an orphanage as abandoned children, eventually to be adopted out. If The Centre targeted a child, they would inform the parents. Mrs. Parker and the others would provide assistance in relocating the families sometimes going as far as finding jobs for the parents and giving the families money. Anything to move the children out of The Centre's reach. Even after Mrs. Parker's death, one or two children per year disappeared from The Centre's clutches. The legacy that Catherine Parker left was far stronger and far more powerful than possible punishments The Centre could hand-out. "Somethings are more important than living. Those were Catherine Parker's last thoughts. I know that because I thought them with her as she died." I told Markham. He looked at me with shock as he realized about what, whom I was talking. "I want to talk to you about Catherine Parker, Markham. I want to discuss The Centre's Underground. The people who save children like me." "I do not know why Catherine didn't save you. She started saving children shortly after you came to us. I didn't become involved until you were about six and your age made you ineligible for the rescue program. Age was one of the factors in determining whether you could be taken out; also, time in The Centre was taken into account." He stopped glancing around to make certain that we were not overheard. "She usually rescued infants and very young children. Also, you could not have been inside The Centre for more than one year. She was very careful." "But, not careful enough to avoid the detection of Mr. Raines and his security force." I stared at my hands avoiding Markham's face. "She couldn't hide from pretenders either; both Jarod and I picked her as a participant in the rescues." I looked at Markham squarely in the face daring him to tell me otherwise. "No, she couldn't avoid detection completely." What I had said finally registered as he remembered the simulation where I had to choose employees involved in wrong doing. "I had forgotten. You blame yourself for her death." He said it as a statement not a question. He already knew the answer it showed in my eyes. "You can't blame yourself." "I was not holding the gun, originally; although, I did today. I chose her. She was the only duplicate between Jarod's group and mine. I sealed her fate. After I had chosen her as a traitor what else were they going to do, Jarod had picked her and I had picked her. They needed to set an example. She was the logical choice." I sat back into my chair waiting for him to repeat himself; but, he never did. I looked at him. He was trying to find something to say. After hearing my explaination he could not dispute it. "You still have no idea what they would do? How could you? I didn't even know." "You told me what they would do. You did know even though you did not want to admit it to yourself. You said, They will probably be fired, eliminated from the company,' when I asked you what would happen to these people." "Maybe I did know. I didn't want to admit it." He said quietly. "Would you like to go to my room and finish?" "I think that would be a very good idea." I gathered up my case and the satchel. He offered to carry the reader and I handed it to him. As we passed the maitre'd, he asked for the bill to be added to his tab and we went to the elevator. Once we were inside his room he laid the DSA case on the table in the kitchenette. The satchel I carried soon followed. "Where do you want to start?" "At the beginning." I said simply. I opened the DSA case and inserted the disk from my introductory testing. I settled into a chair and watched Markham's reaction to it. "I never knew that Jacob wanted to turn you over to Sydney. Although, it would figure that he would give only the very best to his own brother, and I think you are the best. The man he spoke to in the outer-room, do you have any idea who he was?" "His name is Mr. Raines. He was the real head of The Centre. A way to describe him would be the judge, jury, and executioner of The Centre. He had the final say on who stayed and who didn't. If he didn't like you, you were as good as dead; you probably would soon end up dead at any rate. He enjoyed torturing people and having them cower at his feet. Even people he liked, if he really liked anyone, he demanded complete subordination from." I paused thinking about how else to describe him. "He was pure evil. If there is such as thing, he personified it. Control was everything. It was a drug he craved as much as he craved nicotine from his cigarettes." "Who was this boy that Mr. Raines said showed great promise?" "That was Jarod. Sydney had been testing him. Would you like to see his testing?" Markham nodded. I replaced my introductory disk with Jarod's and we watched as Jarod built the Empire State Building. "I was surprised at how little of his testing they taped. They only recorded portions of his tests and interviews. They had recorded my tests, written and oral, and my spatial tests; with Jarod they seem to have only taped the spatial tests. Otherwise, it is possible that they were taped; but, were never added to The Centre DSA library, in which case, we would never have copied them." Markham nodded as he continued to watch as the scene shifted to Jarod being assigned a room. He watched as he cried himself to sleep. "Did you ever cry yourself to sleep, Krystal?" "I don't remember. I never saw myself cry to sleep on any of my DSA's; but, there are a few missing from my early years at The Centre." How could I admit that I never had. Not even the first night. I never cried myself to sleep. "I will not give them the pleasure of showing weakness." I had thought to myself. "Never will I allow them to see they had broken me. I had wanted to cry many times during those early years; but, when they eventually broken' me, allowed me to adjust to The Centre, it was too late for me to cry. I no longer could." I knew this because I had become myself. Had watched and felt myself slowly change and give up hope of leaving. I pulled Jarod's introduction from the reader and replaced it with the DSA containing the traitor simulation. Markham showed recognition of it immediately and realized what had been the ramifications of this project. When it was over he watched Jarod's comperable simulation. "See I sealed her fate, Markham." "How do you know? We were told she commited suicide. How do you know that she didn't?" I pulled a security DSA from my case; the deep red film on it showed that it was not a typical DSA used for recording simulations or documenting experiments. I inserted the disk; but, didn't immediately turn it on. "This is why. I had to look for this disk; but, it proves that Mrs. Parker was murdered. I already knew that she had been murdered by becoming her young daughter; but, I needed the proof for you to see. I didn't want you only to have my findings." I flipped the switch on. After watching the disk, tears ran down Markham's face. He replayed the disk several times and I knew he was attempting to become the people in the picture. He was having a difficult time. He had been right when he said that he was not a pretender, at least not a good one. "Oh, God. She was murdered. Why did you want to show this to me?" "I want to know if the Miss Parker I am monitoring is the same little girl in that DSA." It was true. I needed to know. "Yes. I think what happened to her mother had a stong bearing on who she is today. Also, I think it reinforced her views of The Centre. She had been told that her mother was weak and couldn't handle the stress. So, her father taught her that she had to grow up stong." He paused thinking about the girl Miss Parker used to be and compared the child to the adult she was today. "What are you going to do?" "I'm going to give her a copy of the DSA. I'm going to show her that her mother was not weak. She fought to the end. I will take respons- ibility for her mother's death, too. I think a copy of the traitor simulation will be sufficient." I paused choosing my next words carefully. "I want to tell her I'm sorry." "I doubt that she will hear you." "That does not matter. It is the act of saying I'm sorry that will have the strength and meaning. Also, after she sees the recording, I think she may change her views about Jarod and The Centre and about her father." "Did he give the order to kill his wife?" "I don't know." Markham stood and walked to the bedroom, when he returned he was carrying a small address book. "This is Miss Parker's residence. But, if you go there, be very careful. I am positive that it is monitored both inside and out." He pulled a sheet from the book and handed it to me. I already knew where Miss Parker lived. "Thank you." He sighed deeply. "How are you coming with finding Jarod?" "Better than I had been earlier." I had finished reading my pretend session documentation this afternoon and had learned many things about Jarod and how he controlled his pretending skills. I now had a much better understanding of what the skills entailed and how they were triggered. I now was confident in my ability to control my own abilities. "I'm beginning to understand him, how he thinks." "Really?" "Yes. Did you know that since he has been out he has been developing a personality? He never thought that he had one while he was at The Centre. He thinks he is an avenger; making things right for people who cannot protect themselves. He becomes people he makes up. He creates a persona and lives it. He thinks he doesn't know who he is." "He doesn't understand the nature of personality. He thinks that who is, is based on his parents, his biological background. He cannot accept that his personality is based on his own experiences, even those he experiences as other people, personas. He hasn't learned that he is in control of his destiny." "Where did your personality come from? Because it certainly didn't come from me." Markham said with a strained smile. "My own personality is based on me, my own experiences, and what I have learned. It is not derived from you or from anyone else. It is something that develops naturally as we grow up. Jarod never really grew up." "Will you be able to find him?" "Eventually. Don't worry, Markham. I will give him his file, his past. I'm interested in seeing what else he will do out here though. In a way I'm playing your role. I'm watching a pretender discover himself. I can become him anytime I want too, now." I saw a small shiver run up Markham's spine as I settled my chin onto my upraised hand. "You better go home and get some rest, Krystal. I need to get some rest myself. I am leaving today. I need to get back before they miss me." "Markham. I can become him; but, I can not find him using my skills. Jarod could have; but, I have not reached that level of ability yet. I just find it endearing that a grown man is still a child at heart. He sees the world so differently. I grew up; but, I never really experienced child- hood. Jarod is getting to experience childhood now, outside The Centre. In a way, I envy him. I intend to follow his lead and have a childhood. I want to learn about who I am." Markham was silent for several minutes. "You just sounded like me there for a moment. You were playing my role you had said. Do you want to find Jarod and bring him under your control? Because that is what I would do." I shook my head, quickly gathered my things and left. His question still ringing in my ears. "Was I that much like, Markham? Did I want to study, Jarod? Or did I want to learn from him? Follow his example?" "I didn't know; but, I need to answer those questions before I find him. Because, if I approach him as Markham or someone from The Centre, he will just run." After a restless night, I got dressed and started back to Blue Cove, Deleware. I needed to see Miss Parker. I had the DSA reader and the necessary DSA's. She will listen to me if I tell her I have information about her Mother. She has too. I reached her house around noon and noticed that the property was deserted. No one was inside and no one seemed to be watching it. I parked the car down the street and walked to her home carrying the reader. I let myself in through the sidedoor and settled into a chair in the corner of her living room, the reader sat on the floor next to my feet. About six that evening Miss Parker finally came home. The house was as dark as the night outside. She came in through the sidedoor and she turned on a light as she entered. She threw her case down on a table. "Hello." I said. She wirled around not expecting anyone to be there in her dark house. "Please leave your gun on the table and come into the living room." "I will do such thing. Who are you?" I didn't answer. What could I tell her? "What do you want?" "To say I'm sorry." She gave me a shocked look and then she approached me. I suddenly became aware of how precarious the position I had placed myself in was. "I know the truth about your mother." "Tell me." "I will show you. Do you have a DSA reader?" She nodded her head. "Here." I laid out the DSA's I had copied for her and picked up my reader. "You get the facts about your mother and I get to leave. You never saw me." I stood and started toward the door. I looked back at her as she was picking up the disks. "Remember, I am sorry. The little girl in the simulations is me." I hurried out the door and never looked back. I didn't have the courage. The End Main Page Demara dforest@weir.net © 1997