A cold shudder runs through me as I look through the one-way mirror at the psycho in the orange jumpsuit who\u2019s handcuffed to the table. What I\u2019ll see in his head, what I\u2019ll feel and experience first hand will be like living nightmares. I don\u2019t know if I can handle them. I\u2019ve seen some terrible things, but nothing like what he\u2019s done. <\/p>\n
The psycho raises a styrofoam cup of hot coffee to his mouth, but the chain connecting his handcuffs to the table is too short, so when he gets the cup halfway up, his arm jerks to a stop and the coffee spills onto the lap of his bright orange coveralls. He swears and frantically squirms in his seat to stop the coffee from scalding him. The pained look on his face tells me that he isn\u2019t succeeding.<\/p>\n
Good, I think. He deserves that. That\u2019s fitting for a guy like him. That\u2019s perfect.<\/p>\n
He plunks the cup down in front of him and shakes the hot brown liquid from his hands, which sends his chains rattling and clanking over the table\u2019s black metal top.<\/p>\n
He doesn\u2019t look like much sitting there, coke-bottle glasses, short salt and pepper hair, and so skinny he seems lost in those orange overalls. With what they told me about him, I imagined some beefy guy with tattoos of little spiders at the corner of his eyes and pipes the size of my head–not somebody who could have been my grade 9 science teacher.<\/p>\n
Let someone else do this, my inner voice tells me. Don\u2019t they have people trained to do stuff this? Why the hell does it have to be me?
\nThen I remind myself of the deal I made, a deal I\u2019ll find nowhere else: get what the authorities need from this lunatic and then the agency goes back to working out how to shut off this mechanism in my head.<\/p>\n
Life will be worth living again without it.
\n<\/p>\n
\u201cDoctor Brown,\u201d I say as I step into the interrogation room. The overhead lights wash over me, making me pause and blink stupidly as my eyes adjust. Considering I was trying to look like I know what I\u2019m doing, I’m off to a cracking start.<\/p>\n
\u201cHow long have you been in the dark on the other side of the mirror watching me?\u201d he asks.<\/p>\n
I ignore him and skirt the room to keep out of his reach. I pull out the metal folding chair on the opposite side of the table and sit. The chair groans under the pressure of my considerable bulk.<\/p>\n
Appear confident and don\u2019t directly engage him, they told me during the prep. There is no need to talk to him. Just tune in, get what we need, and then get out.<\/p>\n
I open his packed vanilla folder on the table and pretend to read over some of the details. I give the papers a little nod like I\u2019m agreeing to some tidbit I read and then I look up at him.<\/p>\n
His coke-bottle lenses engorge his pale grey eyes. A thin smile splits his lips.<\/p>\n
I break eye contact and look down at the papers.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou\u2019re pretty fat for an agent,\u201d he says suddenly. \u201cDon\u2019t you guys have to keep fit?\u201d<\/p>\n
His comment catches me off guard and I snap my head up to look at him. <\/p>\n
His eyes are leveled straight at mine and I don\u2019t think he\u2019s blinked since I last looked away. He\u2019s baiting me I realize, and I look back down at the folder. I pretend I\u2019ve finished reading the page and turn it over. <\/p>\n
\u201cCongratulations,\u201d he says. \u201cYou finally got through that page. That took some doing.\u201d<\/p>\n
I keep my head down and focus on the next page. I don\u2019t need to talk to him to do this, I remind myself. I just need to be sitting close and my mind will automatically tune in to his. For the first time in my life, I\u2019m grateful it\u2019s automatic–I wouldn\u2019t have the stones to do it intentionally with him.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou are interesting,\u201d he says and then I hear his seat shift and his chains clack. A jolt of fear rips through me. He\u2019s gotten free! I think and I nearly leap out of my seat and scream. But when I look up, I see he hasn\u2019t. The sounds were caused by him straightening out his chair and rattling the chains on the table as he clapsed his hands together.<\/p>\n
He smiles, revealing a bright wall of teeth. He seems quite pleased with himself for scaring the hell out of me.<\/p>\n
I notice there\u2019s something different about him now, he seems bigger to me. When I saw him through the mirror, he was lost in his orange coveralls, but now it\u2019s like he\u2019s grown to fill them. He seems taller too. He must have been slouching when I came in and now that he\u2019s sat up straight he towers over me.<\/p>\n
\u201cClearly, you\u2019re not an agent,\u201d he says. \u201cNor are you a caseworker, policeman, psychologist, or anything that would make sense in this situation. You are interesting.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cGreat,\u201d I say sarcastically, then I regret it because I remember that–no matter what–I wasn\u2019t supposed to engage him. But he continues as though he didn\u2019t hear me.<\/p>\n
\u201cThey prepped me for you. Didn\u2019t let me sleep, didn\u2019t let me eat, and drove me round and round to disorient me. And then you\u2019d think with all that build up, somebody important would come in and finish me off. But imagine my surprise when you walk in–you who doesn\u2019t seem like anybody at all.\u201d<\/p>\n
His words bite deep and I pop off before I have a chance to think.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou don\u2019t seem like anything to me either,\u201d I say defensively. \u201cJust some skinny shit in handcuffs. Nothing special.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cJohn Smith,\u201d he says, leaning in and reading the name off the glossy white tag pinned to my black sweater. \u201cThat\u2019s what I find so interesting. All this deception to bring in a fat little man who practically crept into this room and slunk along the walls to get away from me. And then he sits down across from me and there\u2019s nothing–not a word or a peep out of you. That\u2019s what I find so interesting.\u201d<\/p>\n
I\u2019m not even pretending to read the papers anymore. I\u2019m just going to sit here and wait for it to happen. I\u2019m not engaging him. <\/p>\n
\u201cJohn…\u201d he says slowly as though he doesn\u2019t quite believe that\u2019s my name. \u201cCan I call you John? I have a couple questions John. First off, I\u2019m an excellent judge of people, so don\u2019t lie to me because I can pretty much see straight through you.\u201d<\/p>\n
I can\u2019t help it, but my eyes flicker up at him when he says that.<\/p>\n
\u201cJohn, even when you\u2019re not talking to me–you\u2019re talking to me. Now my first question is: who are you really?\u201d<\/p>\n
And then it starts, a whoosh of static, like a radio without a signal, crackles in my ears.<\/p>\n
\u201cJohn! You surprise me. There\u2019s a little sparkle in your eyes and you\u2019re smiling now. What\u2019s so funny?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNothing\u2019s funny,\u201d I say, smiling and grinding my teeth together, trying not to show the discomfort I\u2019m in. \u201cIt\u2019s just that we\u2019re almost finished and then I get to leave here while you go back to your cell and rot.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cHow can we be finished? We haven\u2019t even started.\u201d<\/p>\n
Pain stabs through my left eye. Something hot and sharp is in my head and is digging its way out through my left temple. It\u2019s already up to the skin now, about to breach, when the thing starts to track across my brow. It feels like a fat June bug is merrily making its way across the frontal plate of my skull. The pain is unbearable. I look at my reflection, expecting to see a thick lump inching across my forehead, but there\u2019s nothing there but a fat plane of pale white flesh. As the pain creeps towards my right temple, the static gets louder and a high-pitched whine screams in my ear. Tiny dots of white light dance like fireflies at the edges of my vision and I\u2019m just near passing out. Then amongst the popping static I hear something that sounds like a word and the pain starts to crawl back the other way.<\/p>\n
\u201cGood Lord,\u201d he says and leans in to get a better look at my face. \u201cAre you well? You look like you\u2019re having a heart attack. Have all those donuts finally done you in?\u201d<\/p>\n
I\u2019m huffing and puffing now because I can\u2019t seem to get enough air. <\/p>\n
Trickles of sweat run down my spine and dive into the valley of my butt crack. The crackling static is like a dull roar in my ears, then suddenly the agony dissapates and the little white fireflies start to wink out one by one. All of which means I\u2019m close. Just another frequency or two and I\u2019m there.<\/p>\n
\u201cThe pain has lessened now it seems,\u201d he says. \u201cAnd your fat head is cocked to one side as though you\u2019re listening for something. John I have to say, this has definitely been worth the trip out here. What\u2019s next I wonder?\u201d<\/p>\n
I hit his station and my ears pop as the pressure in them release. <\/p>\n
Relief floods through me like an orgasm as the static dies down, and a film, of sorts, plays in my mind. I\u2019m standing on a raised platform, overlooking a small crowd. A man in a grey business suit hands me a giant golden key. I take it and proudly raise it above my head. The crowd begins to cheer.<\/p>\n
Then I\u2019m back in the interrogation room, looking straight into his googly eyes. <\/p>\n
Damn, I think. I got garbage. I hoped to get lucky and nail it the first time so I could get the hell out of here. I suck in a deep breath and pray it\u2019s the next one.<\/p>\n
A smile crosses his face and my jaw drops in astonishment.<\/p>\n
\u201cJohn,\u201d he says. \u201cI told you. You are interesting.\u201d<\/p>\n
This can\u2019t be, I think as I shift uncomfortably in my seat. No one has ever been so calm before. How is this possible? I just painfully sucked a memory out of his head and at the same time one of my memories was pumped into him. How can anybody be so calm after experiencing something like that for the first time?<\/p>\n
\u201cJohn, I saw you arguing with some woman that I\u2019m guessing was your wife. You were screaming and she was crying. She wanted you to make love to her, but you wouldn\u2019t. That was awfully mean of you. She just wanted a little love John.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cShut up,\u201d I say, remembering the fight and the decade-old wound rips open afresh like she and I were just arguing moments ago. Why is it that people only see the deepest, darkest, most personal secrets in my head? It\u2019s never anything but those. It\u2019s like they\u2019re all bubbling right at the surface of my mind, just waiting to burst into somebody else\u2019s head.
\n\u201cJohn, you wanted to though. I could feel it in your heart. I could hear it in your thoughts. You wanted to do it with her, but you didn\u2019t want the closeness of it. Why is that? That\u2019s the whole point of it isn\u2019t it?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cShut up,\u201d I say.<\/p>\n
\u201cJohn,\u201d he says and laughs. \u201cYou need a better poker face. I can see straight through you big guy. This is too easy.\u201d<\/p>\n
Before I can even think, another of his memories pops into my head. I\u2019m in the backseat of a Cadillac now. It\u2019s a convertible and the top is down. We\u2019re driving down a long road that\u2019s lined with people. The sky is full of confetti streamers and everyone along the road is waving and cheering for me. Then the memory fades.<\/p>\n
What the hell was that? I wonder. I\u2019m not seeing anything I need. <\/p>\n
Where\u2019s the blood? Where\u2019s the twisted faces of the victims?<\/p>\n
From across the table, he leans in and gently takes my hands in his. I jump back from his touch and accidentally knock the folder off the table and send it sprawling on the floor.<\/p>\n
\u201cJohn, we really need to talk. I\u2019ve seen some terrible things in your head. You need help big guy.\u201d<\/p>\n
I push back from the table and stand. This isn\u2019t right, I think. He can\u2019t be taking this so well–it\u2019s impossible. Nobody can be this cool after seeing into somebody else\u2019s mind. Nobody.<\/p>\n
\u201cJohn, what\u2019s the matter?\u201d<\/p>\n
I make my way to the door, keeping close to the mirror and as far away from him as possible.<\/p>\n
\u201cJohn, buddy. Where are you going? We haven\u2019t even started.\u201d<\/p>\n
Another memory of his bursts into my head. I see a General with a chest full of medals and big cob pipe hanging out of the corner of his mouth. An aide rushes up and hands a small bronze star to the General who then takes the medal and pins it to my chest. The General steps back, snaps a stiff salute to me, and then the memory fades.<\/p>\n
What the hell was that garbage? I think as I twist the doorknob in my hand. To my surprise, it\u2019s locked. I rap my fist on the door. When nobody answers, I start to pound on it.<\/p>\n
\u201cJohn, I told you we are just getting started.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhy is this locked!\u201d I yell. \u201cWho the hell locked this?\u201d I stand at the mirror and flail my hands back and forth. I look like a frantic fat man, trying to wave down an ambulance. \u201cUnlock this!\u201d I yell to whoever\u2019s behind the glass and then I point at the door. I lean in and try to peer through the mirror, but all I see is my chubby cheeks and my plump hands hooded over my face.<\/p>\n
\u201cTell me about your wife,\u201d he says. \u201cWhat happened to her?\u201d<\/p>\n
I snap my head around and glare at him. I try to read his face to see what he meant by that, but he\u2019s sitting there with his hands clasped together, smiling pleasantly as can be and I can\u2019t tell anything.<\/p>\n
\u201cTake a seat,\u201d he says. \u201cWe may be here for some time John.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cHow the hell would you know that?\u201d I growl.<\/p>\n
\u201cJust call it a hunch.\u201d He replies.<\/p>\n
There\u2019s something wrong with this whole situation and he\u2019s a part of it–I can feel it in the pit of my big stomach. I look at his huge grin and then back at the locked door. I\u2019m trapped in here with him, I realize. Where the hell are they? On a coffee break? Didn\u2019t I tell them–didn\u2019t I specifically say–I can\u2019t turn it off once it\u2019s started? <\/p>\n
Goddammit, open the fucking door before I lose my mind.<\/p>\n
Suddenly a scene, his memory, plays in my head. It\u2019s the same one of him getting the key to the city.<\/p>\n
When the memory ends and I\u2019m looking through my eyes again, I see him smile and nod at me. \u201cAhhh..,\u201d he says like he\u2019s just found the last elusive piece to a puzzle. \u201cI understand now,\u201d he says. \u201cI understand you John.\u201d<\/p>\n
I know he wants me to ask him what it is he understands, but I\u2019m not playing his game and responding. All I want is for this damn door to open so I can get the hell out of here.<\/p>\n
\u201cJohn,\u201d he says. \u201cWhat did you do with all of them?\u201d<\/p>\n
I freeze. My heart stops and I can barely breath. <\/p>\n
\u201cI don\u2019t know what you\u2019re talking about,\u201d I say and I turn around and try the door again.<\/p>\n
\u201cDon\u2019t lie to me John. I can see straight through you–straight through you like you\u2019re not even there.\u201d<\/p>\n
His words knife into me and I spin around and face him. <\/p>\n
\u201cHow many people did you kill to get your bronze star?\u201d I snap at him.<\/p>\n
I watch his reaction, but his smile doesn\u2019t crack and those googly eyes don\u2019t waver.<\/p>\n
\u201cWas it lots?\u201d I continue. \u201cDid you kill kids? Did you enjoy that?\u201d<\/p>\n
Static crackles in my head and suddenly I see the same scene of him being driven down the road in the Cadillac. The crowds are cheering and the sky rains confetti. Then the scene ends and I\u2019m back in the room.<\/p>\n
How is it possible to get the same crap from him every time? It\u2019s like I\u2019m watching looping stock footage. And meanwhile, he plumbs the depths of my mind and sees my deepest, darkest secrets.<\/p>\n
God, I hate this thing in my head. Strangers who just happen to be in the same room as me will learn my most personal, most secret, most unthinkable things, and all my masks are stripped away, laying bare my innermost self for them to see. Nothing is my own. Everything, every part of my life, is on display for the fucking world to see.<\/p>\n
\u201cJohn, you\u2019re so alone. What I\u2019ve seen in your head, you living in the gutters, bumming for spare change, keeping as far as you can from people…you’re so alone.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cStay out of my head!\u201d I shout.<\/p>\n
\u201cJohn, it’s you who’s doing this,\u201d he replies.<\/p>\n
Rage flushes through me and I walk towards him with my fat fists bunched together. He\u2019s so cocky and sure of himself that he doesn\u2019t even flinch when I get near him. I want to sock this smug, smiling son of a bitch in the jaw and rain blows down on his head till blood runs out of his ears.<\/p>\n
\u201cThat would land you in trouble,\u201d he says. \u201cThey\u2019re probably right behind the mirror you know.\u201d<\/p>\n
I look at the mirror and I see my fat self with my hands poised like two hammers above his head.<\/p>\n
He\u2019s right, I realize, and I lower my fists and step back from him.<\/p>\n
\u201cJohn, I saw you as a skinny little boy of seventeen. You were in a dark room on a couch kissing some girl. Naughty. Naughty.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cShut up!\u201d I say, and I instantly remember the girl and the situation.<\/p>\n
\u201cI could hear her name in your head. Sarah, lovely Sarah. And you were thinking: first base, finally first base.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cBe quiet!\u201d I shout.<\/p>\n
\u201cThen that thing in your mind, that wondrous mechanism you hate so much, kicked in. You thought the pain burning in your brow was because you were all hot and bothered, but it was you dialing in and a memory of her kissing some other boy popped into your head. That must have been quite upsetting: it\u2019s your first kiss, she\u2019s thinking about kissing someone else, and her memory is so real you can taste the other boy\u2019s lips and feel his tongue rooting around in your mouth. Then she was screaming. She must have seen something terrible in your head because she was just screeching.\u201d<\/p>\n
His head snaps back as I punch him smack in the center of his flapping mouth. Somehow, by some miracle, his glasses stay on. But he\u2019s not smiling anymore now though. His big eyes are watering and blood runs out of a split in his swelling purple lip. I look at my hand and see a small puncture hole between the fat of my knuckles where his tooth went in.<\/p>\n
\u201cAnd then I saw you much older and much fatter,\u201d he continues as though two seconds ago I hadn\u2019t punched him square in the face. \u201cYou were in a seedy hotel room with a prostitute whose face was plastered mess of makeup and you were doing what you could to get your business over with as quickly as possible before it could happen. But then, right in the middle of it, you tuned in and she was in your head and you were in hers. Good lord, the things you saw in that woman\u2019s mind; felt them too…in a way you lived them.\u201d<\/p>\n
I raise my fist to punch him in the face again.<\/p>\n
\u201cLet me ask you one question,\u201d he says and lifts his hands up to protect himself. \u201cDo you see a pattern here?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cPattern?\u201d I ask. \u201cWhat pattern? What are you talking about?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThe pattern of your life. You, women, and this thing in your head. <\/p>\n
Think of it. Just calm down and think of it for one second.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI don\u2019t know what the hell you\u2019re talking about,\u201d I say. \u201cI just want you to shut up.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI understand your frustrations, but try to think of it. All these things, these watershed moments in your life have built you into the person you are today.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cDon\u2019t analyze what you see in my head. Those are my memories! Mine!\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI can\u2019t help it John. I\u2019m trained to think this way. I can\u2019t help it as much as you can\u2019t help tuning in.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cStay out of my head!\u201d I yell as sobs wrack my big body.<\/p>\n
\u201cJohn, I\u2019m trying to help you.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cFuck off,\u201d I say.<\/p>\n
I feel dizzy now. The floor sways beneath my feet like I\u2019m aboard a ship. I can\u2019t breathe either, it\u2019s like all the air has gone out of the room. I need to sit down before I collapse, so I stumble over and take a seat in the empty chair.<\/p>\n
\u201cJohn, I thought this thing was a blessing, but I see how wrong I was. I see what it has done to you…what it\u2019s turned you into.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cPlease stop,\u201d I mumble.<\/p>\n
I\u2019m so exhausted from all this that I can barely raise my head up from the table to look at him. When I do, I see he\u2019s neither smiling nor frowning; he actually has a look of concern for me on his face.<\/p>\n
\u201cJohn, this thing has weighed on you. Pressed you down and formed you into the person you are now. It\u2019s the reason you are the way you are.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhy are you telling me this?\u201d I choke out through mumbled sobs.<\/p>\n
\u201cBecause I want you to know that it\u2019s not your fault. All this was forced on you. What other life could you have led with this thing in your head? In my practice, I usually tell people all their problems are caused by themselves. But not you. You\u2019re the victim here.\u201d<\/p>\n
I nod. He\u2019s right. This was put on me. I never wanted it. I didn\u2019t do anything to deserve this.<\/p>\n
\u201cJohn, what did you do with them?\u201d<\/p>\n
I stare through a veil of tears at the swimming tabletop. My emotions have drained out of me and now all I am is tired.<\/p>\n
\u201cJohn. All those women I saw in your head. The ones that got too close. What did you do with them?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI don\u2019t know,\u201d I say.<\/p>\n
\u201cI understand John. It was the only way to shut it off. The only way to stop them from seeing into you and you into them. It\u2019s not your fault. It\u2019s this thing in your head.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI never wanted this,\u201d I blubber. \u201cI never wanted any of this.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI know. I know.\u201d he says and takes my hands in his. This time I don\u2019t pull back. His hands are warm and I welcome his touch.<\/p>\n
\u201cJohn. Where did you put them?\u201d<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
A cold shudder runs through me as I look through the one-way mirror at the psycho in the orange jumpsuit who\u2019s handcuffed to the table. What I\u2019ll see in his head, what I\u2019ll feel and experience first hand will be like living nightmares. I don\u2019t know if I can handle them. I\u2019ve seen some terrible …<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2422,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[3,125,1088],"tags":[1089],"class_list":["post-7959","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-fiction","category-futuristic","category-tcl-11-spring-2014","tag-the-colored-lens-11-spring-2014","entry entry-center"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/7959","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/2422"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=7959"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/7959\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":139617,"href":"https:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/7959\/revisions\/139617"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=7959"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=7959"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=7959"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}