By the time my 5th alarm went off, I had just managed to find the strength to turn myself over and hit the stop on my phone. It was this annoying little jingle I had picked that my subconscious had found a way of blowing right past and ignoring, costing me some late work arrivals on occasion. From how much light was bleeding into the room through the otherwise dark burgundy curtains, I knew that it was well past noon. Didn’t matter, I wasn’t going to be working today anyway. Although I wasn’t really sure what I was planning on doing for the day. I’d already called off work in advance. Maybe if anything, this could be a day to get my thoughts all sorted out, making sense of where all of this was going. But before I could manage that, I still needed to crawl out of these damn covers.
The room glowed a warm red and orange hue as I came up to a sitting position, rubbing the crust out of my eyes. Even when muted through the brick walls and glass pane, you could hear the faint hiss and rumble of the city buzzing along, those distant cars driving through noon lunch hour. The noise was ever-present, no matter where you were in the city, always in the background. It was similar to that buzz I felt when being around people, something that would linger on me from the moment I wake in the morning to the second I fall asleep… and even through my sleep on restless nights. Luckily in the sanctity of my shitty apartment, there wasn’t much noise at the moment, either from people being at work or out and about somewhere else.
Picking my crackling bedridden form out from the indent my body outlined in the mattress, I peek over to my clothes bin in the corner, the growing collection of laundry that needed to be dealt with. Pulling out some clothes from my drawer and swapping out what I had, it was better to take care of it sooner than later. I grab a pair of shorts, slap on a band shirt, and collect whatever I had sitting in the room and put into the bin. I pocket my phone and wallet before pulling a large garbage bag out from its roll, which sat right by where the bin was. They were large and sturdy, plenty enough space to dump a full clothing load worth into to carry downstairs. Pouring it out like a little transfer exchange of fabrics, I wrap it loosely shut, just enough to keep it all together and heaving it over my shoulder as I head into the apartment living room. I give a glance at the state of the living room and its familiar modest appearance, before grabbing my keyring off the kitchen table and opening the door to head into the hallway.
Locking it behind me, the laundry room was shared between the other tenants in the downstairs basement, which also had some storage areas under individual lock and keys. There were extra little rent fees to use them, little steel cages with padlocks that filled with junk and boxes, but I didn’t have much other than some records, electronics, my guitars, and other shit that I just kept with me in my room. I didn’t see much point in using them. Down the stairs I went, from the second to the first, and onto the lower levels. If this were a horror movie, this is where the psycho killer would be hiding in the corner of the poorly lit basement, with some poor sod chained to the wall. The old brick foundation dripped of mold and moisture that had no chance in hell of getting dealt with, fed by the flickering fluorescent lights that made your head ache if you stared at them too long. The only good thing was people donated and left spare detergent by the washers, so if you forgot to bring any like I often did, someone else usually had you covered. It was a little unspoken courtesy to leave some of your own, just to pass the good deed forward.
I hear a familiar chime on my phone as I’m dumping the clothes into the washer. A few moments of abstaining from looking, making sure all the clothes were secured and the little detergent sheet was in, I close the door and start up the normal cycle. As the beastly old thing churns to life, I whip my phone out and see whatever presumably pointless notification it was likely to be. Instead, it’s a text from a number I hadn’t added yet, though I considered last night. The message read, “Hello Samuel, this is Locke. I’d wondered if you’ve given any thought about yesterday, and if you’d be willing to meet again?” Pushy, I felt like. Then again, she did ask about if I were to call her yesterday night or today, and so far I hadn’t said anything into mid-day. Although I did find it slightly weird she messaged me right as I leave the apartment room, maybe having some means of knowing my room to room whereabouts.
-33-
In any case, I still hadn’t given it as much thought as I really should. Something about the flood of emotions these past couple days made me want to just go blank and pretend nothing was happening. More disassociating, I suppose. Either way, I still wasn’t sure about so-called testing and demonstrations, but I figured that if the other day was any indication that there wouldn’t be any harm in just talking. “Yea, I’d be willing to talk again.” I message back, not specifying anything beyond just talking yet. I make sure to actually add her number as a contact as I reply back. She sends me a response right away. “Do you have any plans today?” I give a twitch in my face as she now seems to quickly push times up ahead from what she had said before. I was still under the impression she’d want to do this tomorrow or Sunday, so what was this about? “We aren’t ready for any kind of testing yet, but my research partner who will be involved with it has been looking forward to speaking with you in person.”
I really didn’t have anything planned, other than menial chores like the wash cycle I had going. “No I’m free, but I did just clothes in the washer.” I message back, waiting a couple minutes before hearing anything. Normally I’d just get up and leave for the next hour or so while it’s going, but I strangely felt more secure in this horror movie looking bunker of a basement. I get another chime from my phone as I’d looked away staring at random spider-infested corners of the room to drown my head with distractions. “I could have somebody take care of it while you’re away.” Well that certainly wasn’t completely unsettling. I garunteed in her mind she probably thought that sounded pleasantly helpful, but all I could think about was somebody breaking into my apartment again and doing God knows what in it, handling my clothes now. I felt a little more secure over text vs in person to being upfront about that. “Well that’s certainly not creepy.” I text her back. I try to chuckle it off, but even if meant as a helpful gesture, the optics had no way of not-being unsettling. “Apologies, didn’t mean to be, just offering help.”
Felt like this standard of interaction had to be normal in the world she lives in, or maybe she’s just oblivious to how it comes across. Though I guess I can’t be speaking from any kind of moral high ground when it comes to invading people’s private lives, even if I limit it to only those I don’t talk to, and it’s not exactly physical invasion either. “We have a spot picked out, public calm place to chat, if you’d be willing.” I audibly sigh while scratching my head. While this all sounds like a request, it feels more like another test, as though if I put this off I’m getting marked down in the background for not cooperating. I still haven’t seen or even felt anyone other than Locke, but I know there has to be many more. The sheer level of organization to get those pictures in such a short timespan, to follow my movements in real time… everything. I’m only being shown what ‘they’ want me to see. And now I’m being asked to talk with another person. I don’t know where this game is headed, but I don’t feel like I’m gonna be allowed to not play it. This must be my own version of what that poor homeless sap felt on the train, crippled by the fear of the powers-that-be colluding against him and knowing his every movement. Except this time it wasn’t delusion, even if I wished it was for me.
I text back to her after thinking it through, which takes me a minute or so. “Where at?” Listening to the washer cycle switch up from filling up with water to some light sloshing, I get a response amid the mechanical and fluid noises. “Museum of Modern Art, 53rd and past 6th Ave. There’s an open plaza by a nearby cafe. Lunch is on me.” Well that I wasn’t expecting. Museum seemed like an… interesting choice. But whatever, it was only a block or two past my station, and it wouldn’t be hard to get to, maybe twenty minute walk. If there was one advantage to New York it was certainly having opportunity to walk and get some exercise. “Sure, head out in a minute?” After a few seconds, she reacts with a little thumbs up, and I start heading upstairs. I know I’d still have a lot to contemplate, but I still didn’t really have anything in the way of answers. I was letting these things hang in the air like cobwebs, not pushing back or demanding answers like I really should’ve been. I figured somebody else in my position might’ve already cheated to get the answers they wanted to know, but my own ethics aside, I still felt this… lingering inherent danger in that. I mean, did they just want to study me? Like I’m just some kind of, fascinating specimen? Why the cloak and dagger routine, then?
-34-
I open the doors to that stale afternoon air, baked in the summer heat and cooking out all those hidden chemical flavors that crackled under the pavement. I’d head straight to the East where I knew most of the journey would be. The walking trails of people were pretty sparse right here, but I knew it’d be a lot more crowded once I arrived to that deeper part of the city where the museum was at. Mentally I was preparing for the barrage of emotional noise that awaited me. Those big noisy crowds had a habit sometimes of going from an annoying buzz to an irritating itch if there was far too many. Maybe as an upside, people staring at fancy and pretentious art galleries would give more positive vibes all around than what I’d normally expect in a rowdy and busy crowd. I’d hope for the best, and anticipate much less.
Approaching the mass of steel and glass, I figured that plaza had to be inside somewhere. Walking through the door, there was a kiosk on the further end, but it looked like if I just kept walking out to the side eventually I’d reach an outside portion of the museum. The inside lobby was about what I expected, simplistic, primitive straight lines, kind of a brutalist architecture with promotional banners and event dates that plastered the walls above. Some of the assortment of galleries were previewed on the banners to showcase some of what could be found inside. But I wasn’t here for any of that.
Down the hall, walking towards the next set of glass doors, you could see walkways above and the people who trotted along the upper levels looking down to those below, or just looking ahead to something else. I could feel all of them and their twirling thoughts, some intrigued, some bored, but nothing overwhelmingly negative. Compared to any morning work commute or stress filled cubicles, the vibes here were definitely more pleasant overall, but still just as noisy. Once I was in the plaza, it felt like entering a slice of an outdoor garden trapped in its concrete and iron cages. The ground was covered with smooth and patterned marble, the artificial koi pond with a stone platform bridge across it, and those lively orange and white speckled shapes swirling around, all surrounded by shrubs and trees trapped within the boundary of the plaza. The air smelled of the water, a refreshing odor that contrasted against the city’s industrial aroma. To the right of me was a shorter building section that bordered the streets, and to my left was the taller part of the museum with glass viewing boxes that went up multiple stories. Down at the lowest ground level along the walls was the outdoor dining seating area. I slowed down to a meandering walking pace looking for any clues of where I was supposed to be meeting her exactly. Evidently, I picked the right moment to search, spotting who I believed was Locke looking in my direction sat in one of the dining table booths, with another figure of someone who looked about my age, and wasn’t aware of my presence yet.
I approach with a tired exhale, getting ready for the next round of uncertainty. At the halfway point of my approach Locke had noticed me and said something to the other person, and I see him shoot quickly around to catch a glimpse of me. I can already sense a hit of excitement and anxiety from where they sat, mostly from the blonde-haired man in question. Locke glanced at me and seemed as fairly content as she did before. She mentions something additional to him that I couldn’t quite catch, before he sits up and swaps places so that the side of the table I’m approaching from is two empty seats, and they’re both sitting on the same end to face my direction like some kind of interview. As I go to sit down, his face is beaming with all kinds of emotions, not quite scared and not quite happy. His mind was buzzing louder than anyone else here. I wasn’t quite sure what to make of that yet.
“Afternoon Samuel, I’m glad you could make it. Get here just fine?” I nod in confirmation as I pull out the chair and sit down. “It was a bit short notice I know, but I’ve been getting some pressure from above to stay in contact, and I knew that Dr. Reiss has been wanting to see you in person…” While that ‘pressure’ she speaks of piques my suspicion, there was something a little funny about the excitement I was sensing in this ‘Reiss’ guy. He carried himself like a nervously excited intern, that naive fascination of the mundane that everyone else who was experienced was already numb to. His hair was a medium length dirty-blonde, messier and shorter than mine but still with some length, and those wide slightly crazed brown eyes that focused with all attention on me only. That was just enough distraction to keep me lingering on Locke’s comments, as he raises his hand awkwardly up to me. “Uh… Hi! Dr. Kyle Reiss, Junior researcher for the Foundation, studying primarily in Cognito and memetic hazards. I gotta say, I’ve been really looking forward to meeting with a real psionic, especially from everything I’ve read on your case so far! We won’t have the mobile lab ready until tomorrow, but I gotta say I am really looking forward to seeing what—” Locke shoots a look for Reiss to calm himself with his nerding-out. “Reiss…” He breaks away from the handshake he’d been enthusiastically continuing during his entire monologue, and tempers his rambling as he looks back over at over Locke. “—Right, sorry. One step at a time, heh…”
-35-
I give an awkward nod, containing my temptation to chuckle at the little episode of terms I didn’t understand. “It’s fine, I understand. I’m Samuel. I’m… sure you already knew that.” Locke motions her hand subtly as she chimes in. “Reiss has been my understudy on this case, he’s proven himself to be quite the up and coming researcher, but this is his first time he’s been out in the field like this, and I felt as though he needed some proper experience.” ‘Out in the field’ was certainly an odd description for what seemed to be a casual conversation in a public place, unless she was referring to whatever mention of the mobile lab he had briefly commented on.
His plethora of emotions flooding out of him was completely counter to Locke. Where I don’t think I’d be able to pick her out of a crowd without deep reading, this Dr. Reiss I could find half drunk without even trying. I couldn’t tell of any specifics just feeling the emotions, not unless I delved deeper without asking. But what I did feel must’ve been a flurry of theorizing and postulating what he wanted to try out with me. His grin gave just a bit too much enthusiasm to be totally comfortable with any idea I was certain he had. I guess I’d just hope she’d temper the newbie’s enthusiasm and keep him properly leashed, for my sake. “It’s not everyday we get to talk to an SCP so casually in the wild like this…” Reiss spoke out as Locke twitched with an almost nervous frustration, like he said something he wasn’t supposed to say yet. It was the first since meeting her that I felt as strong of an emotion like this, let alone a negative one. I wasn’t entirely sure why yet, not even understanding what that term meant. But I bet if I had read her proper, I figured she’d be telling him ‘careful…’.
I responded with a puzzled look to the both of them. “A what?” Locke wastes no time to interject before Reiss can blurt out an answer. “An SCP is what we call anomalies that the Foundation deals with, which technically, you would not be considered one at this moment in time. On the record for now, you’re what we consider a person of interest.” The last part felt as much directed towards me, as it was to correct Reiss on what I assumed was careless wording on his part. Though I still didn’t have any clue of what warranted the strong internal reaction, given that the term just sounded like some kind of acronym. “Does it, stand for something?”
When I asked that, I could feel her switching from mild frustration at Reiss, to a kind of underlying nervousness. In the short gap of awkward silence I’d also picked up on the lightbulb realization from Reiss, as though realizing why he should’ve worded himself more carefully, but I was still clueless as to why. He wanted to speak himself, but he bit his tongue and let Locke have the stage. “It’s an acronym term that’s used for anomalies. It stands for Secure, Contain, Protect. It’s officially the full name for what the organization we belong to is called, the SCP Foundation.” It took a moment to process it for myself. Rolling the terms around my head for a bit, I think I was starting to see why this part had been left out. Securing, protecting, and containing. Is that what the point of this was? Containing me? “What do you mean ‘contain’?” I ask more pointed with suspicion.
Now they both looked put off a bit. I could tell they felt like this was getting off to a bad start already. She must’ve been thinking of a way to re-frame my concern, but Reiss decided to take a bold move of beating her to it with his own angle. “It’s really not as bad as it might sound. It’s like… the world and the things that are in it are far more bizarre and crazy than most people realize. There’s many, many strange things in this world… things that don’t really line up with what average people expect to exist in our reality, and we call these things anomalies, or ‘SCP’s. All we do, at the core of it, is keep the public from knowing about them. And of course, try to understand and study them.” Locke exhales with a breath of slight relief, the anxiety dulled from where it was at before. She must’ve felt like Reiss handled that answer better than she expected. “Exactly. And this, you’ve mostly already been doing, Samuel. With the exception of that latest schism at the bank, you’ve actually done pretty well at covering your tracks. It’s entirely possible we would’ve never been made aware of you, had that whole incident never occurred.”
-36-
Not that it felt excessively rubbed in, but I really was starting to feel even more guilty over that one fuckup. Even though there’s a fair case to be made, that I really had nothing to feel bad about, something was making me believe that it wouldn’t keep getting brought up like this if it wasn’t actually a bigger hassle than what either one of them wanted to disclose to me right now. Nevertheless, the line about containment still wasn’t sitting quite right with me. They weren’t being hostile to me in any way, in fact if I had to guess I’d say they were trying their very best to appear friendly and welcoming to me, but the glaring contradiction of what containment implied kept sticking out. “So, you just want to like... keep me out of trouble or something?” I was being more hopeful with how I was rephrasing it, but I was probably just leaving them a wide opening to make me feel better. Reiss looks over to Locke for a moment before she speaks. “Well there’s a bit more to it than just that, but for the most part yes.” Not as wide open as I supposed.
I give a slight unsatisfied nod, averting my eyes over to random people walking through the plaza, feeling that same unease creep back in. I wasn’t being very subtle with how I was feeling, my body language shifting away from the conversation, and my hands instinctively itching at the back of my long hair. Since this began I hadn’t reached a moment of actual comfort or reassurance, but right before hearing about the term containment, I was at beginning to feel a certain ‘casual feeling’ about all this. So much for hoping for that. I don’t know what either of them was pondering when they looked at me, since I still refused digging any deeper, but from how I could see them out the corner of my eye while I looked away, I knew that they were working out a way to bring my reassurance back while I was avoiding confronting the both of them with my worried pacing mind. “Samuel...” She spoke in a quiet and soft spoken tone. “Do you want to leave?” It was a question that felt strange to hear out loud. It was trying to be comforting and giving me boundaries, but it was also patronizing to hear. It was the kind of words that maybe were trying to setup expectations for some later betrayal, to feel that rug get pulled out from under me once they lulled me into a false sense of security. But that wasn’t coming from anything other than myself… and I knew what lying and deceit felt like. They were being completely earnest from what I could tell. My paranoia wasn’t giving me a clear head to weigh all this out properly, but really who could blame me? “No, I... sorry. I just... I don’t know.” I shake my head, not able to articulate my emotions out properly.
She was feeling it too, the confusion I was battling in my head was already getting grating. It was apparent that if she didn’t just come clean and quit holding things back, this careful dance of me being paranoid wasn’t going to stop. It wouldn’t matter how public the place we met at would be, or how many witnesses there were, she needed to show me I wasn’t being trapped like an animal. “Samuel, can I be entirely honest with you?” I clocked my head back over to her, seeing her take a short breath of her own. She now had my complete attention. “There’s no point in hiding this from you, as you’re going to know sooner or later, be it from me directly or perhaps reading either one of our minds… so I’ll just come clean and skip some of that. Yes, the Foundation we represent does in fact want to contain you, and that’s what I’m officially assigned to do, aside from evaluating your POI case. And sometimes, containment means exactly what you probably think it means. But every case and circumstance is unique, and I believe that yours is no exception to that.”
This was feeling like a bitter pill to swallow. This might not have been like my nightmare, but it felt more like those precarious dreams where you’re unsettled by something you can’t see yet, but if you stay in the dream long enough you’ll find what you’re afraid of. She was trying to soften the blow of what this organization really wanted from me, which should’ve been obvious given how quickly they seized onto who and what I was with such precision. And I was only meeting two people, but there was many many more. There had to be. I was still just being shown what they wanted me to see, and my paranoia aside, it would still be plain as day to see that’s what was happening. There could be men watching us from a rooftop off somewhere for all I knew, beyond where I could normally sense them passively, armed with a sniper trained on my head like some movie. My face wasn’t being comforted like she was hoping for, and I was quietly sulking and processing the information through my own internal thoughts.
-37-
“…I don’t expect you to trust me, Sam. I know you have every reason to be suspicious. We know far more about you than you probably do about us. But I will tell you this… there are anomalies that are dangerous. I asked you before if you felt like what you can do could be considered dangerous, and I think the answer is clear on that potential even before testing. But I, myself, do not believe you are a dangerous person, Samuel.” That made me feel just a smidge better. It was more than I felt about myself, at least. I for one did think I could be dangerous, and it was for that reason that I gave myself rules and ethics to live by. I’d be mortified of something like myself that didn’t. “…Thanks.” I say with a less-than truly thankful tone, as if I didn’t really believe it myself. “From what I’ve seen, going over everything again and giving it thought, I see someone who is careful, considerate of what they can do, and maybe wants to do right. But I also think you’re afraid. Not of me, or the Foundation, but of yourself.” Now I wondered who the mind reader was.
She extends a hand out on the table, like as if she was reaching for the top of my hand to touch in a reassuring gesture. I suppose it would’ve worked if my hands weren’t flush with my body in a subconsciously defensive posture. Reiss was watching her with his own uncomfortable confusion. It was like this wasn’t how he expected her to react, but he studied the conversation regardless. “Ultimately, I’m in charge of your case. I’m making the decisions on where I go from here, and I might be getting some pushback from above, but for the time being what I say goes out here. And I have no reason or intention of treating you like a dangerous person. I just want to help.” It was therapist speak, and normally I wouldn’t buy it for a moment, not with how I was feeling. I wanted to shake my head and call bullshit, none of this was normal or altruistic. I was being spied on, invaded, tracked. They knew who my parents were, where I worked, where I lived, probably damn near every relevant thing about my life by this point. I wanted to feel the sweet little lies making themselves known just so I could feel vindicated in how I felt. But I still coulnd’t sense anything in her. Nothing dishonest. She was telling me the truth as far as I could tell, and if there was anyone who would know otherwise, it would’ve been me.
“…How do you want to help me?” It might’ve felt pointed, continuously suspicious, but really I was reaching for an out. I was caught between wanting to feel vindicated, and wanting to be relieved and my fear to go away. She could probably feel it too, through her modest smile. “I want to understand you better, so you can better understand yourself. And I think if you understand yourself better, you won’t be so afraid. And maybe ontop of that, I can introduce you to somewhere you won’t even have to hide from yourself.” Reiss nodded at Locke, a quiet smirk indicating his positive impression of her making their case to me, appealing to my insecurity and fears. It was quite ballsy and direct, and it wouldn’t have budged my feelings at all if I felt any deception. But it came from the truth, or at least what she believed, and her pupil obviously seemed impressed by his mentor going to work.
I finally break the long silence after her monologue, where I’d been staring out into the void for most of the duration of it. I look back over at them, passive and vulnerable again and unable to hide it. I wasn’t used to feeling like that. “What kind of somewhere?” I asked, Locke about to answer after smiling that she had gotten a bite of normal curiosity. That is, until Reiss blurts out his own tale. “Oh! We have tons of sites all around that house anomalies, some are kind of insane and dangerous but others are far more laid back. When we get to 83, you’ll love it there for sure… big rec rooms, decent food, tons of labs-” Locke snaps at Reiss this time. “Reiss. Use a bit more discretion. Regardless of Samuel here, we ARE still in public…” He sinks down into his seat like a dog berated for trying to sneak some food off of the kitchen table. Despite unanswered questions I now had from what might’ve been implied, the dynamic lightened up my mood a little bit. If the sour feeling wasn’t still recovering I might’ve chuckled again.
-38-
Locke brought the conversation back to her. “We’ll get to more on the Foundation sites later, when you’re ready. For now, I’ll confirm that yes, our site is more relaxed, and you shouldn’t have anything to worry about if you visit the facility where we’re located. And you’ll be around safe company, people who are familiar with the strange and anomalous.” Now I just felt odd being compared to strange and anomalous, but I supposed that was better than how I’d typically describe myself. I shuffle in my seat awkwardly. “…So what now?” I spoke.
Locke sat back a little bit into her seat as though taking a breather for the moment. “Well, first I think that now would be a good time for us to get something to eat, assuming you’re still hungry after all this so far. And during, or after that, I believe Dr. Reiss would like to ask his own questions for his own report he’s been assigned to.” She phrases it like I’m some kind of homework he’s being graded on, and I wasn’t entirely sure that was an incorrect assessment. Locke nudged at Reiss as she stood up. “I’m gonna go grab us some lunch, Reiss, you behave yourself and remember what I’d told you earlier.” As she begins to walk off, she looks back and him while pointing towards her eyes, and back at Reiss again. He doesn’t seem to be concerned all that much with it, and the first thing he spouts out is about food. “Oooh, make sure to grab waffle fries!” He calls out as she makes her way down the open plaza to where I presumed some food shops would be. As it’s just me and him, he looks at me with far too excited of a smile.
It was a bit unsettling, but not for the reasons laid out before. I think if anyone was looking at me like this for any reason, I’d be left slightly concerned. “…So..” I slowly utter out as he laughs off the awkwardness almost immediately. “Heh, don’t worry, Claire is great to work with, best researcher I’ve ever worked under. Not nearly as strict as some of the hot heads in Site-17.” I nod along still foreign to what he’s talking about. “Right… so, researcher in, what exactly?” I ponder while recalling some of the terminology from earlier with no context. He chirps back up. “Well she’s nearly a senior researcher, so she’s able to lead in larger projects, but I think her specialty is in People of Interest, such as yourself. Ya know, like… ‘initial contact with anomalies’, etc.”
I supposed the term ‘anomaly’ wasn’t an inaccurate description of what I’d consider myself, and in what I was able to do. “Right. And… you? What was it you said you did again?” He grins madly again. “My study is for cognito and memetic hazards.” I nod along again, still not getting it. “And, that would be…?” I question him. “Oh, right yea, so… cognitohazards are like, anomalies that harmful to perceive or sense. Like, imagine a painting that starts frying your brain trying to look at it. Or a song that causes you to lose your mind.” He says with such morbid excitement. “It’s something that, just sensing in some way could cause harm to your psyche, or affect it in some measurable way, usually a negative effect. There’s all kinds of variations.” Perceiving all of this like some combination of interesting science fiction ideas, I wasn’t sure about taking it seriously yet. The only thing that was keeping me from laughing it off was in what I already understood about myself. I don’t think he comprehended whether or not I was following it so far, but he continued on regardless. “And memetic hazards, are ideas that spread. Like memes, same concept in how people share them and they propagate. But the difference is they’re ideas or concepts that spread and spread through anomalous means, and their spreading can often create additional anomalous effects.”
Listening, I think I might’ve understood that concept a little better, oddly relating to it how I would notice idea propagation in every day people. Opinions, erroneous beliefs, paranoia, etc. “So, like a mind virus?” He perks up as I’ve been listening. “Yes! Exactly. Except the virus is the ideas and concepts themselves, and it spreads through word of mouth, or something similar.” My head turns, looking with slight surprise and appreciation over the strange concept. “Huh.” I utter out. I think to myself that, if this person is assigned alongside Dr. Locke, than how does it apply to me? “So… does that mean, I’m a cognito hazard then?” He squints in slight confusion looking down at himself, before shaking his head with a chuckle. “No no, heh… you fall under the umbrella of a Psionic. Or, ‘psychic’, as you probably understand. There’s overlap, like… it’s possible you might be able to induce cognito-hazardous-like effects, but it doesn’t seem like you are yourself a cognito-hazard.” Doesn’t seem like it, but still having him here with these brand new credentials I was learning of, seemed weird to say the least.
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“We’ll learn more specifics when you come down tomorrow and get the lab all set up, I’m really excited to be doing something like this in the field, coolest thing I’ve done so far.” He explains in his giddy excitement. I was far more concerned with what this would entail. “So, what about these tests? How is that going to work, exactly?” I wanted straight answers, not beating around the bush. This whole thing was still just as unsettling as it was now confusing. I was so out of depth here, and even if they weren’t trying to lie to me or deceive me, that doesn’t mean that I was safe. They could completely believe what they’re doing is all well and good, and still put me in an undesirable situation. He continued on. “Well, so the guys are setting up this mobile lab in this old closed down warehouse the Foundation owns, basically a bunch of panels Lego-pieced together to make a little testing environment.” He expresses himself with his hands as he maps out a layout in the air, invisible to all except him and his imagination. “There will be some technicians and lab guys around the lab monitoring the equipment and readings, some guards on the outside keeping urban-explorers out, and then me and Claire and a couple volunteers will be inside the lab with you.”
I twitched my eyes again. “Volunteers? What does that mean?” His excitement slows down just enough to understand what I might’ve been concerned about. “Just some other Junior researchers that volunteered for the tests, just basic stuff that I assume would be easy for you… guessing numbers they’re thinking of, general telepathic reading, maybe some memories if that’s within the scope of it.” He explains. I don’t look overly enthused, considering several factors of his explanation. “…If you’re okay with that, of course. We won’t make you do anything you’re not, ya know, comfortable with.” My eyes furrowed down onto the table, giving a small dismissive shake. “No, no it’s… it’s fine. As long as they’re okay with it. I have rules I’d prefer to try and stick by, when I can.” He waves his hand overlapping each other. “Totally doable. We can accommodate, stick to just what you’re cool with.” He replies with me giving an acceptant nod.
He reaches over and grabs his little notepad, stuffed full of tabs that stuck out at the top between pages. He skips right to a particular page and clicks his pen. “Maybe we can go over some of it. So some simple mind reading, good?” I shrug and nod back. “Okay. Mind control, no-go? Or is there wiggle room?” I look off to the side, scratching the side of my temple as I don’t exactly give an answer, but it’s obvious I wasn’t comfortable with it. “Okay… we’ll leave that off the table for now, that’s fine.” He crosses out something, a few somethings on his notepad. “…Now, how about telekinetic? Think you could move some stuff around?” He emphasizes with a playful wiggle of his fingers. I look back at him catching the motion off the corner of my eye cocking a mild grin. “Sure.” I answer. He goes through what I presume is several items off his list of what he wanted to test, checking or scratching off certain things. “Okay… how about communication? Like, speaking telepathically? Or transmitting information of some kind, that sort of thing.” He asks me. It’s not something I’ve done nearly as much, but I knew how to. I give him another nod and shrug. “I know it’s not technically ‘mind control’ but just wanted to check that you’re cool with it.”
He finishes off his checklist before flipping a couple pages down. “So, tell me, how long have you been able to do all this? Always, or did something happen, perhaps?” He asks, now posing questions like a journalist of sorts. “Since I was about, thirteen.” He writes down as I answer. “Did something trigger it?” I shrug at his question. “I don’t know, it was just like… one day I just heard all this noise. People’s voices all around. It was really loud, thought I was going crazy, and then it slowed down a bit. I realized I recognized some of the voices, and it was my parent’s.” I explained. “I would hear everything they were thinking, talking to themselves in their head, going over stuff, and… well, some of their complaining as well.” He writes it all down, or at least something in place of it, paraphrasing maybe. “You told Claire before that it was something you actively had to do, yes? Hearing people’s thoughts?” He noticed the contradiction, obviously having been brought up to speed with what I told her so far, which was understandable. “It didn’t last like that. About a week, then it started to quiet back down. I could still feel their emotions when I was around them, but to hear what they were thinking I had to focus.” I confirmed for him. He nodded, annotating something. “And, describe to me what that feels like, ‘focusing’? Is there like, a trick to doing it?” Avoiding the joke of him asking me how to focus, I knew what he meant otherwise. “It’s hard to describe. It’s like a muscle I didn’t have before, and then I just did. I just, became aware of it I suppose.” Imagine what the sensation would feel like like if you grew a third arm. It’s probably impossible to imagine the exact feeling of it, I know I can’t. But if I did read someone who had a third arm, or if I grew one myself suddenly, you might not be able to imagine it but you would feel it, and now know what it feels like. That’s the only way I could really put it. It’s there, but how do I even build a frame of reference to explain it?
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“Interesting.” He jots more down. “Let’s talk limitations. Could you… read multiple people at once?” I nod. “How many, you think?” I shrug at him. “Dunno. A lot.” I answer, which causes him to pause. “Twenty? Thirty? What’s the most you’ve ever read at once?” He asks before I hit him with the answer. “Hundreds. Maybe thousands at a time, I’m not sure. More than I was counting.” That put him in his seat a bit. That giddiness was turning into tempered appreciation by the looks of it. “What’s the limitation on something like that, range?” He asks. “No, not any kind of range limit.” I respond back. He paused again, looking at me like he was balancing equations in his mind. “No range limit? What’s the furthest you’ve ever read someone from?” He asks. I shrug it off. “Maybe, California? There was an actor talking about a movie that was coming out, and an interviewer was asking him questions he wouldn’t spoil. So I just… spoiled myself, I guess. Kinda regretted it, made me not care about the movie as much.” I described it like antics I got up to when I was a teenager, those moments where I was really testing the scale and limitations of what I could do, without realizing that’s what I was doing. Meanwhile, his eyes lit right up and he was writing notes and ideas sporadically now. “So not just miles, we’re talking, hundreds, maybe thousands of miles?” He asks. I shrug and tilt my head. “Yea, I guess so. Why?” I can tell my answer is giving him dozens more questions. “Samuel, have you noticed, say… a weaker signal when you do something like that? And how were you able to find someone at that distance?” I shake my head. “No, it’s about the same. I just gotta know like, where someone is, roughly. Or if it’s someone I’ve read before, I can kind of pick them out of the crowd.” These were evidently blowing his mind, and maybe even spooking him a bit.
“So, all you have to know is where someone is? Or, if I’m understanding right, any mind that you’ve previously read?” I nod my head. “Yea.” He sits back, a little shook and breathing out from his mouth. “Wow. So like, you could read, say… your parents minds, right now? Just like that?” I scrunched my nose at the question, there was more weight to it than just the idea of whether or not I could. “…Do I have to?” I plead with him, him crossing his arms again in a dismissive wave. “No no, it’s just to get an idea of the scale of all this. We’ll come up with some sort of test at a later time exploring that, it’s beyond the scope of tomorrow. But just… wow.” I wasn’t entirely sure why he was so shocked, if Locke said they already knew about people like me. “I have to ask, but… could you, control somebody from that kind of distance as well?” He asks with more care and consideration than anything he’s postulated up to this point, and we could both feel it, the implication. “…Yes.” I answer tepidly. “But… I wouldn’t. I haven’t.” He looks at me funny, probably me coming across shitty and unconvincing. “Right.” He answers quietly. Fuck, now he’s worried, I can tell. What am I supposed to do now, they acted like I was fine? Talking about things like… this isn’t something they’re unfamiliar with? But now I said the wrong thing, and… fuck he’s panicking, isn’t he? No, wait. He’s not, I am. I’m just feeling myself now, I think anyway.
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I spent that whole time looking away, looking off to my side to my right, him not saying anything more and me spiraling in my head. It was so bad that when Locke came up to the other side of the table and cast her shadow over it, I flinched and broke out of my daze. “Here you two are, got some food.” She sets the cardboard and paper boxes filled with waffle fries and even some chicken strips on the table for the lot of us. A couple of paper cups filled with ketchup and mustard, and the greasy smell that hit along with the whole tray of food. I turn over to her briefly, before I kept my focus back on the table and not to her or Reiss. She could probably tell something was wrong. “What’s the matter, he say something?” Her concerned look glazes over to Reiss, fearful of what he could’ve said and maybe ready to pounce on anything he blurted out, but it wasn’t anything about what he said. “No, he’s… fine.” I quietly reach over to one of the pieces of chicken. “Thank you, for the food.” She squinted with suspicion at the both of us, mostly to Reiss who was now a bit worried, probably between the both of us but now mostly at her. Maybe that was enough to… temper myself. If she’s more intimidating than what I said, than maybe it was just all in my own head this time. But I still worried.
The food was decent, for being a little publicly accessible museum. Places like this were 50/50 on whether or not it’d be straight garbage or just okay. It was on the higher end though. We didn’t speak as much while we were eating, but Locke decided to get some questions of her own in the meantime. “So, did Reiss explain more about the testing we wanted to try tomorrow?” She asks. I bob my head up and down with food still in my mouth. “A bit. I think I’m kind of getting the idea.” She smiles contently. “Good. And again, if you need to reschedule, if you’re not feeling comfortable, we can work around it. Just let us know.” I silently nod. Reiss slides his notepad over to Locke briefly, tapping at something. The vibes shift slightly from the pleasantry of eating food, to something stirring in the back her head. Without words being exchanged, I catch her nodding at Reiss and waving her hand in reassurance, tempering unseen concerns.
“I know this is all so new.” She interrupts my dwelling thoughts. “But you are the one in control here. If you ever want to stop, just say stop. If you want to leave and not talk to us again, just say the word. We’d understand.” Reiss looks over at Locke with slight confusion, as if never having heard her say that to anybody before. “I don’t know if I believe you.” I utter out a monotone response. “The pictures, the surveillance… you’d never stop watching me, would you?” She raises her eyebrows with a nod of her forehead, looking down in agreement. “The Foundation wouldn’t stop monitoring, no. But we wouldn’t harass you, wouldn’t go after you. We’d keep our distance. That would be my official recommendation. And ideally, life would go on for you as though we were never here. If that’s what you’d want.” Her hand slides over, not quite touching mine but gathering my attention so that I’d actually look at her instead of moping downward. “Or, we go at this your pace, whatever you’re good with. And maybe you’ll get something out of this. Answers you were looking for, perhaps.” What answers, like, what I was? How I became this way? I mean, of course I would want to know but, would it matter?
“I’m fine.” I respond back. “I think… I want to see where this goes. Whatever this is. I don’t know what this is, I mean I heard you explain what you want from me, but I still don’t really know what you want. Not really.” I cough, grunting out some trapped mucus in my throat. “But it’s fine. I guess I’ll find that all out soon. I just want you to promise me something.” She nods concernedly, catering to my anxieties. “Anything.” She replies. I look at her and Reiss directly, sternly. “No matter what happens with me by the end of this. I want you to keep my parents and family out of this.” The table grows cold. “They don’t know what I am, none of them. But they’re all I have, and if anything happens to them, I’ll know.” I don’t flinch at my threat. I don’t have to give any specifics, nor hint at me being scared behind it all and just blustering my way to keep them safe in case something happens. But I feel that cold shiver run through the both of them, and they understand. “Of course.” She attempts to reassure me, calm my nerves. “We don’t mean any harm, and we won’t contact or interact with them at all. I promise you that.”
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Quietly, I shake my head in acceptance. That was really all I felt I had to lose at that moment, the only thing that concerned me. I just wanted reassurances that no matter what happened, the people I cared about, while distant, would be fine. The coldness started to fizzle out, and I think she understood what I was getting at. I didn’t like it before when she name dropped my family, not because they wouldn’t know, but because I don’t like them being anywhere near this. If I was something you needed to keep eyes on, do whatever to, fine. But I need to draw a line somewhere.
When we finished up out food finally, she stood up while indicating for Reiss to do the same. He awkwardly stands up with her, maybe not expecting the premature ending. “Well, we would suggest maybe touring the museum a bit, I had thought about it, but I think it’d be best if we finish up our reports for the day and prep for tomorrow.” She says as I stand up along with after them. “Be up at 11, I will text you the address, and try to get there by noon. Or of you change your mind, let us know.” I accept with a nod. “It’s been wonderful speaking with you today Samuel, try not to stress about tomorrow. It might seem like a lot, but I suspect you’ll find it much easier than you anticipated.” She reaches out for a handshake. I pause a moment before accepting it, gingerly grasping her hand and rocking it up and down. After letting go, Reiss makes his own move and mirrors the gesture, him much more firm and excitedly than her, all that enthusiasm pouring back like it never left. “Don’t worry man, you’ll be fine. We’ll be there with you the whole time, and you’ll do awesome.” I awkwardly give one last nod at his remarks, before it seems like my queue to wrap things up.
“See you tomorrow.” I respond, as I start making my way out looking back at them a few times before making my casual escape. She watches me head out while Reiss goes over his notepad for a bit, closing things up. When I head outside, I feel just like I did before. I don’t like how he got afraid, I don’t know what he pointed at to her, and I also didn’t know why they couldn’t just give me the address now, but I wasn’t gonna prod for that. Maybe they know far about what I am than I do, but then I don’t fully grasp whatever got them spooked.
I decide to run down a cab this time as soon as I get out to the street. I’d walked enough today, I just needed to settle down.
When I got home, I checked briefly downstairs to see where my clothes got to. The washer wasn’t on, the drier wasn’t on, and there was nothing inside either one. The bags I had were also gone. I stepped upstairs to my room, unlocking the door and stepping in. Kicking my shoes off, I don’t see anything upturned or changed, and even consider for a moment that someone just took off with my clothes. But my suspicions were swapped when I went back inside my room to see folded sheets, and my clothes neatly stacked at the edge of my mattress. What Locke offered came true, and had I not known any better I would’ve sworn my mom swooped in and did my laundry for me.
Even the simple gesture wasn’t any less creepy. That’s twice now, at a minimum my room had been invaded by an unseen force. I guess it was ironic considering the psychic invasion I could conduct to anybody at any time, without permission or acknowledgement. If people knew, I wonder if they’d be just as mortified as I was. Maybe all this was just karma for being nosy. Then again, I could think of karmic moments I earned from that growing up. Could be this was just for now.
I spent the rest of my thoughts putting those clothes away, pretending like some friendly ghost of the apartment must’ve brought them to my room just to be nice. The thought made me feel a little better even if it was dumb and silly. Plus I’m sure if there were ghosts, they couldn’t possibly have enjoyed it here enough to give a damn about helping out with the tenant’s laundry situation. But it was nice to pretend for a moment.
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