Total pages in book: 128
Estimated words: 127712 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 639(@200wpm)___ 511(@250wpm)___ 426(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 127712 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 639(@200wpm)___ 511(@250wpm)___ 426(@300wpm)
“Exactly.”
“So what is the goal?”
He scoffs at me. “You’re a smart woman. Very bright. That’s why you’re here. You know what the goal is, Nova. So you tell me.”
I actually don’t. But this is some kind of test. This whole day was some kind of test. And if he says I know, then… maybe I do. Maybe this answer is hiding in a shadow inside my brain. In the dark, so to speak. A place I’m actually attracted to. And this is why I don’t get up and walk out.
A respectable scientist would get up and walk out. They would not entertain this… this… whatever it is. It’s… unethical.
“What are we doing here, Nova?” He taps the folder. “In the simplest, most basic words.”
“You’re—”
“We. This isn’t my project anymore. It’s our project.”
“We’re… taking an idea”—Mercer is nodding his head, encouraging me—“and we’re making it real to them.”
“Very good.” He smiles. And that smile is big. “But you can pare that down and make it even simpler. Can’t you?”
“We’re…” I think for a moment. “Changing perception.”
“Close.”
Now I’m just frustrated. “Why don’t you just tell me?”
“Why don’t you think about it, for as long as you need, and then get back to me.”
“Whatever,” I say. He takes the folder from me. “What are you doing?”
“I think we’re done for tonight.”
“What are you talking about? You said you wanted to work.”
“And we did.”
“But I didn’t even get to read the whole case.”
“No triggers?”
“I’m not gonna be triggered by some worthless criminal’s fetish sex fantasy, OK? It’s just… whatever.” Then I frown. Because I just thought of something. “Are they all sexual?”
Mercer shakes his head. “No. Hardly any of them, actually.”
“What’s the most common?”
He blows out a breath. “Money. It’s usually money. Winning the lottery, being a sports player. Rock star. Shit like that.”
“So where’s the vacation fit it?”
“Some of them are into places. That’s our opener. We tell them they can choose any place they want. Bora Bora. Fiji. The Arctic.” He lifts an eyebrow and smiles a little. “Mars. They can go anywhere they want and when they come back, they will really think they were there. Some of them are satisfied with this.”
“And some of them aren’t.”
“Exactly.”
“So you didn’t expect this? When you came up with the protocol?”
“No. Not really. I mean, a dream vacation is a pretty good deal. Even if it’s just a realistic memory of one.”
“But some people always want more.”
Mercer nods. “This guy, he wanted more.”
“What was he in for?”
“It doesn’t really matter. We’ve been doing human trials for fifteen years now and there is no correlation between the crime they committed and whether they take the vacation or push for the fantasy.”
“Fifteen years? I hope you’re close. That’s kind of a long trial.”
“We’re very close. In fact, your position here will be… historic.”
“How so?”
“You’re on the team that will crack it, Nova.”
He must read confusion on my face, because he smiles again. He must know, that in my head, I’m asking a question. Crack what? But I don’t say it out loud.
“Do you want me to tell you what we’re cracking? Because I will, if you ask me to. Or do you want me to let you figure it out on your own?”
Is this another test? I’m not sure. But I’m tired, and I actually do just want to go home. Well, not home. New apartment. Cottage, whatever. It’s been a long day. “No. I’ll figure it out on my own.”
“Good.” Mercer gets up, puts the file away, and then walks to the door and waits for me to get up and join him.
He escorts me most of the way home to my cottage, but veers off onto a path in the woods, heading for the beach. We say goodbye without fanfare.
Even though this cottage isn’t my home, nor does it feel like home, I have that familiar sense of relief when I close the door behind me and I’m finally alone.
The next day I arrive at the lab early, but Mercer is already there. And this day looks nothing like the first one. Mercer treats me with an almost presumptuous familiarity. There are no more conversations about triggers and no warnings about the sick criminal minds we’re studying.
He introduces me to my lab, which is really just an office at the end of the semi-dark second-floor hallway filled with computer monitors. He shows me how to set things up, which buttons and settings to use for the playback, and how he wants me to make notes.
There is a coordinating MRI video that I compare the verbal storytelling to. It shows neural connections in real time, while the procedure was being done.
It is a tedious job. And I become very, very familiar with the play and stop buttons on the screen. Because I feel like that’s all I do. I get through three minutes and seven seconds of the first video after day one. Each video is about an hour long.