"Do you ever get the feeling that the majority of humanity is just...not
there?"
Grissom's fork stopped in midair, his eyes peering at Sara over the wire frames of his glasses. "Pardon?"
"You know...just look around. Do you see it?" She gestured at a small group of teenage girls. "There. Look at their eyes."
He complied, watching the quintet move in hyperactive circles, their giggling reaching his ears over the din of the restaurant. "What am I seeing?"
Frustration evident in her sigh, she turned her attention back to her meal. "Nothing. And I'm not being flippant, either-there's nothing there. It's a blank." She nodded towards an older couple, retirees, obviously enjoying a tidy chunk of someone's pension. "Them, too." Another couple, in their late twenties: "And them." She stabbed her waffle vehemently. "Most people have nothing going on in their brains, Grissom. For them, thinking is a conscious activity, something they're aware of doing. They never catch themselves dwelling on an obscure subject while brushing their teeth. They live in a state of oblivion, being fed ideas and methodologies through the power of the media, having suggestions and answers stuffed into their heads and taught to let them leak back out so they can be told how clever and smart they are. All of them," she pointed at the people they'd been watching before, "are blanks. Drones. Their eyes are empty, Gris. They don't think. Look at them now, and look in their eyes when they're laid out on the slab, and you won't see a damn difference. They're already dead."
Grissom remained quiet, perturbed by her thoughts. He began to scan the room, his own eyes resting momentarily on those in other faces, eyes that laughed, sleepy eyes, eyes that focused on plates of food and then on passers-by.
His body twitched, the only indication he gave that something was amiss. His brain was startled, shaken by what he'd seen: Nothingness. Sara was right. He'd poured an unsuspecting crowd through a mental sieve, and came up with nothing. Everyone was a blank...all corpses--albeit warm ones.
"You see it, don't you, Grissom."
There was no questioning. He nodded, searching, seeking an awareness in the throng, hoping for something that would show him that they weren't alone in the room.
There. At the counter. The brunette. Her shoulders dropped, her back curved over her eggs and bacon, a glass of orange juice in her hand. Her eyes scanned the crowd reflected in the mirror she faced. Something about her burned. She watched everything, periodically replying to the tall man seated beside her as they perused brochures. Her eyes lowered momentarily, a smile lighting up her face as she leaned over and kissed her companion's shoulder, murmuring something unintelligible. She then resumed her watch, vigilant eyes roving over the room, resting finally on a single reflection. Her lips turned upward at the corners and she nodded, noting his gaze and signaling that she had seen him.
Grissom smiled back.
She then turned her attention again to the man with her, a wistful look on her face as she brushed back his hair, her eyes full and living.
"Grissom?"
"Yeah, Sara."
"You okay? You looked like you'd seen a ghost there for a second."
He smiled at the tall brunette seated with him. "No--no. That was a live one."
"Care to explain?"
"Not all of them are dead, Sara. Not yet."
Grissom's fork stopped in midair, his eyes peering at Sara over the wire frames of his glasses. "Pardon?"
"You know...just look around. Do you see it?" She gestured at a small group of teenage girls. "There. Look at their eyes."
He complied, watching the quintet move in hyperactive circles, their giggling reaching his ears over the din of the restaurant. "What am I seeing?"
Frustration evident in her sigh, she turned her attention back to her meal. "Nothing. And I'm not being flippant, either-there's nothing there. It's a blank." She nodded towards an older couple, retirees, obviously enjoying a tidy chunk of someone's pension. "Them, too." Another couple, in their late twenties: "And them." She stabbed her waffle vehemently. "Most people have nothing going on in their brains, Grissom. For them, thinking is a conscious activity, something they're aware of doing. They never catch themselves dwelling on an obscure subject while brushing their teeth. They live in a state of oblivion, being fed ideas and methodologies through the power of the media, having suggestions and answers stuffed into their heads and taught to let them leak back out so they can be told how clever and smart they are. All of them," she pointed at the people they'd been watching before, "are blanks. Drones. Their eyes are empty, Gris. They don't think. Look at them now, and look in their eyes when they're laid out on the slab, and you won't see a damn difference. They're already dead."
Grissom remained quiet, perturbed by her thoughts. He began to scan the room, his own eyes resting momentarily on those in other faces, eyes that laughed, sleepy eyes, eyes that focused on plates of food and then on passers-by.
His body twitched, the only indication he gave that something was amiss. His brain was startled, shaken by what he'd seen: Nothingness. Sara was right. He'd poured an unsuspecting crowd through a mental sieve, and came up with nothing. Everyone was a blank...all corpses--albeit warm ones.
"You see it, don't you, Grissom."
There was no questioning. He nodded, searching, seeking an awareness in the throng, hoping for something that would show him that they weren't alone in the room.
There. At the counter. The brunette. Her shoulders dropped, her back curved over her eggs and bacon, a glass of orange juice in her hand. Her eyes scanned the crowd reflected in the mirror she faced. Something about her burned. She watched everything, periodically replying to the tall man seated beside her as they perused brochures. Her eyes lowered momentarily, a smile lighting up her face as she leaned over and kissed her companion's shoulder, murmuring something unintelligible. She then resumed her watch, vigilant eyes roving over the room, resting finally on a single reflection. Her lips turned upward at the corners and she nodded, noting his gaze and signaling that she had seen him.
Grissom smiled back.
She then turned her attention again to the man with her, a wistful look on her face as she brushed back his hair, her eyes full and living.
"Grissom?"
"Yeah, Sara."
"You okay? You looked like you'd seen a ghost there for a second."
He smiled at the tall brunette seated with him. "No--no. That was a live one."
"Care to explain?"
"Not all of them are dead, Sara. Not yet."