No one comes to wake me the next morning. I am surprised--I had expected Sydney to come back to talk to me and get me moving. At one point, someone comes in carrying food. I roll over to watch him, and see from her his body language that something has happened. There is only one thing that I can think of that would involve Sydney--Jarod. I hope he hasn't been captured, but in reality I know the truth.
Sydney finds me under the camera, knees hugged to my chest. He walks over to me, sitting down against the wall and thinking.
I sigh. I don't want to be the one to speak. I prefer being ignorant, even though I can't be--I've already seen it in his eyes. Jarod is back, but I'm certainly not going home.
Finally, Sydney speaks. "I'm sorry about what happened last night."
"That helps," I respond sarcastically, my voice scratchy. Sydney falls silent again.
"Would you like to talk about it?" he asks eventually. I remain stubbornly silent. "You can't just stay down here all day."
"What are you going to do, handcuff me to a table?"
"That wasn't my fault, Janie! I would do anything to have stopped him, but..."
I look over at him. "Pretending to be a good guy doesn't make you one. You have to act like one." Sydney just stares back at me, looking for redemption. I shrug. "Can't help you there. I'm not God any more than any of *you* are," I mutter.
We sit in silence for a few more minutes. In the end, Sydney knows how to get me moving. "Jarod is waiting to meet you."
"Why do I get the feeling that neither of us has any choice in this?" Nevertheless, I stand of my own accord. They may be trying to manipulate us, but I can use any opportunity to get more information.
There are more of the same hallways. Then, after passing through 3 guards and 2 electronic locks, we reach Jarod's room. Two things surprise me--first I see that Jarod is not restrained, and then the door closes and I realize that Sydney hasn't followed me inside.
I look at Jarod. He's seated at a table, and he beckons me to come fill the other seat. As I move forward slowly to do so, I study him.
What I see is confusing. I can't see the Jarod I was searching for. Instead I see someone more like Sydney. Now that I think about it, too much like Sydney. As I make the leap of logic, I can see through the mask to Jarod, tiny little glimpses that are revealing--anger, at himself and the situation, worry (for me--I wonder for a moment if I look that bad, then decide I don't want to know), and instense concentration. I see immediately why this place wanted him so badly. He's good, almost too good. Even *I* can only see through intermittently. What is going on?
--
Jarod knew what was going on--exactly what was going on. He didn't like it at all. Somehow had come up with the perfect trap for him: put the fate of a small girl in his hands, a small girl who could practically read the thoughts as they crossed his mind. All he had to do is convince her that he really wanted her to help the Centre. The problem was he could only succeed if he could convince himself. Or at least that was the plan. He hoped that there was some way that they could trick their observers, at least long enough for Janie to be rescued.
Meanwhile, the perceptive 4-year-old was taking a seat across the table from him. She was good--her face was impassive, her thoughts unreadable. He couldn't tell for certain if she was buying the act or not, but he had to continue as though she was. He had slipped himself as far into the role as he could, and now he was ready to begin.
--
He smiles at me, relaxed and friendly. "You're pretty good--you might have caught up to me if I hadn't come back on my own."
I'm skeptical, but I'll play along. "Why did you come back?"
Jarod settles back. I can't see him through the mask. That scares me, and I wonder again what is going on. "I heard you were having trouble adjusting. This place can be scary at first, but I have lots of great memories from here, and I'm sure you will too." At this I catch a burst of bitterness from the "real" Jarod. I'm relieved, but also worried--why is he doing this to himself?
I couldn't accept this so easily, if if I did buy his act. "If it's so great, why are there guards?"
"They're for your protection. I know you've had a bad experience, but..." The hesitation in his monologue is one only I would notice, but if gives me a glimpse of him and he's tearing himself apart.
I cut in as though I'm reading his features. "Infiltrators?" I give my voice a surprised tone.
--
Jarod was relieved, but also embarassed. Once again a 4-year-old was helping him, instead of the other way around.
He wasn't going to waste it, though, and the play had to go on. He nodded sympathetically. "I'm very sorry, but I'm also going to help in sorting out the people who want to hurt you so you will be safe here." Then he indicated the folder on the table. "They need your help with this... They need more information on this man." He passed the folder across the table to her. He then listened to her begin to explain what she saw. At first it was general information, then her tone changed ever so slightly, though she kept her body language the same.
"He knows that he's in danger. Why is he more worried about someone else?" She looked up at him, waiting expectantly for an answer. Okay, so it wasn't a rhetorical question.
"Why do *you* think he does that?" It was too dangerous to give a real response.
She looked back down at the picture. "He doesn't value himself... But he is going to get himself hurt if he tries to help someone who doesn't want it."
"What if that person needs his help?"
"He's in more danger. They both heard something from outside and stuidiously ignored it. "But he's not going to change his mind until its too late. Someone should tell him." She spoke as though she were looking in his eyes, even though they were trained on the picture.
--
I've done the best I can do. Jarod continues the game. "Do you see anything--" he's interrupted by the door slamming open.
I look back to see three of the resident goons in suits entering. Jarod knocks over his chair in an instinctive attempt to get away, but they grab him and after a brief struggle have him firmly in their grasp. The third takes hold of me and I don't bother to struggle.
A man I haven't met yet enters the room. As I'm dragged from the room I can see Jarod begin to struggle, clearly furious. I've seen just enough of this man to know that his hatred is justified. Sick is an understatement.
There is no sign of Sydney, and suddenly I realize that I'm not being taken back to my room. After a short ride in the elevator, I find myself instead in a room that looks like part of a hospital ward.
As soon as we get through the door, I see what looks suspiciously like a surgery table, and that's all I need to see. Recoiling, I get my teeth around one of the hands that holds me. With a roar of pain he releases me. I spin to see that the door has been closed by a new presence--an old man who is pulling an oxygen tank. If anything, I think, got the worse deal between Jarod and I.
The goon gets hold of me again, holding me much tighter than necessary. The ghastly man in front of me smiles, and I shudder. "Relax, Janie... this will be a nearly painless procedure." The goon drags me to the table, but not before I get my two cents in.
"I'm fine, I don't need any 'procedure'!" I scream. To no avail. As the goon straps me to the table, I see the man with the oxygen tank coming close, holding a mask. I take a deep breath, holding it in as an act of protest. He places the mask firmly over my face and smiles at me, causing me to shudder again. While my attention is elsewhere, the good deals a stunning blow to my stomach that expels all my precious air. I try not to breath, but I have to gasp in air after a moment. It is strangely humid, and I immediately feel a warmth spreading through me... then I feel nothing.
-----
"What are you doing?" Jarod yelled furiously. "Haven't you done enough yet??"
Lyle smirked. "We'll have done enough when you and your young friend understand that we only accept cooperation."
"We WERE cooperating!"
"I'm not stupid, and the only people you were cooperating with were each other."
Jarod had calmed a bit by this point. Now he just wanted information. "What do you want?" He made it clear in his tone that he didn't mean generally.
Lyle smirked again. "Just to remind you that your actions will have immediate effects on others--as you'll soon see."
Jarod hated to beg, but this wasn't for himself. "Wait! Don't hurt her, she's just a child... give me another chance!"
"Oh, you'll get another chance," Lyle grinned, "right after Raines and I have had ours." With that, he turned and left, followed by the sweepers.
He didn't know how long he'd been pacing around the room, probably at least three hours, before the door opened and slammed closed, startling him out of his thoughts. Just inside the door he could see Jani, and he jumped to his feet. "What's wrong?" he asked immediately. "Are you okay?" He moved toward her, trying to see what they might have done to her. Maybe Lyle had been bluffing... he hoped...
She began to cry silently and shook her head, then moved to the corner, away from him. He followed. Kneeling next to her, he rubbed her back soothingly. Finally, he asked quietly, "What happened, Janie?" In the back of his mind, he wondered why they were letting him comfort her.
Getting no response to the question, he gently turned her head so he could see her face. "Janie, talk to me."
What he got was not what he expected. "Leave me alone!!" she screamed at the top of her lungs, then shoved him back and retreated to another corner. She curled into a ball, and Jarod followed her once more. What was going on?
He reached out to touch her, then recoiled when she started at his touch. Facts began to fall into place in his head--but that couldn't be it, why would they do that?
There was one way to find out. He lifted his hands from her back, then clapped right next to her ear. No response. Fury welled up inside of him. How could they have deafened a 4-year-old CHILD???
--
I lay still, and after a pause Jarod's gentle rubbing returns. I can guess that's probably figured out what I figured out almost from the moment I woke up. I don't want to see it in his eyes, though, so I let him continue to rub my back and try to pretend like the room is just very quiet.
Finally, I work up the courage to turn and look him in the eyes. I see sympathy, but also a deep sense of guilt. "It's not your fault," I tell him, my tone a bit confused. Why would it be his fault?
Jarod frowns. I can see that he doesn't agree. For a moment, I forget myself as I try to help him instead. "You couldn't have stopped them, and nothing can make you responsible for what people like THEM do," I tell him firmly.
A strange expression crosses his face. It takes me a moment to recognize what it is--he's listening to something.
--
"How sweet," said Lyle's voice, dripping with sarcasm. "You think that she would still offer you forgiveness if she knew the truth?"
"And what truth is that, Lyle?" Jarod challenged.
"The truth about how many lives you've ruined. Everywhere you go you leave destruction in your path."
"That's the Centre, not me!" he yelled back.
"But you *are* the Centre, Jarod.. For more than thirty years you propelled ahead of even the best technologies that anyone else could propose." He paused. "You can't tell me that you, the genius, really could have missed the potential of your simulations? No, you just closed your eyes. Opening them now can't redeem you."
--
I can't hear what's being said, but I can see Jarod's expression. First he looks angry, then stricken. He doesn't seem to see me--instead he is watching some horrible internal film, his thoughts spinning.
"Jarod, listen to me! Don't listen to that person, he only wants to hurt you!"
--
"Yes, Jarod, ignore me. I'm already enjoying the possibilities of what we can do to your little friend next. She needs her eyes... but what about her legs? Please, Jarod, ignore me, then explain to Janie why she will never be able to walk again!"
"You're sick!" cried Jarod, leaping to his feet.
"No, *you* are sick. Why would you encourage your friend to rebel when you knew there would be consequences. It's just business for me, but *you* are betraying a friend!"
--
One glance in my direction is all I need to see to know that they are discussing me, at least in part. Frustration is welling up in me. Still, I don't know how to intervene because I can't hear what they are saying.
I watch as Jarod's face hardens. Finally, he looks down at me, then points to the table.
I'm not going for that. I shake my head stubbornly. He gives me a stern look. I close my eyes in defiance, but they fly open again when he not so gently takes my arm and drags me to my feet. I look in his eyes, but Jarod is gone and he's pretending again.
He drags me to the table, sits me down, and then I voice the obvious question. "Um, have you forgotten that I can't hear?"
Jarod turns and says something to the camera. I want to scream. I'm so used to understanding, and now... I find myself blinking back tears as Jarod looks back. He's more relaxed now, closer to the real Jarod. I can see he knows how I feel, but he ignores that and instead sets to work: teaching me sign language.
I emphasize every difficulty possible, trying to prolong the process. At times, Jarod tries to hurry me; others, he helps me stall. Sometimes it seems to me like he is biding his time, as if he has some hope, but I tell myself that it can't be true. I'm tired of being disappointed.
Sydney finds me under the camera, knees hugged to my chest. He walks over to me, sitting down against the wall and thinking.
I sigh. I don't want to be the one to speak. I prefer being ignorant, even though I can't be--I've already seen it in his eyes. Jarod is back, but I'm certainly not going home.
Finally, Sydney speaks. "I'm sorry about what happened last night."
"That helps," I respond sarcastically, my voice scratchy. Sydney falls silent again.
"Would you like to talk about it?" he asks eventually. I remain stubbornly silent. "You can't just stay down here all day."
"What are you going to do, handcuff me to a table?"
"That wasn't my fault, Janie! I would do anything to have stopped him, but..."
I look over at him. "Pretending to be a good guy doesn't make you one. You have to act like one." Sydney just stares back at me, looking for redemption. I shrug. "Can't help you there. I'm not God any more than any of *you* are," I mutter.
We sit in silence for a few more minutes. In the end, Sydney knows how to get me moving. "Jarod is waiting to meet you."
"Why do I get the feeling that neither of us has any choice in this?" Nevertheless, I stand of my own accord. They may be trying to manipulate us, but I can use any opportunity to get more information.
There are more of the same hallways. Then, after passing through 3 guards and 2 electronic locks, we reach Jarod's room. Two things surprise me--first I see that Jarod is not restrained, and then the door closes and I realize that Sydney hasn't followed me inside.
I look at Jarod. He's seated at a table, and he beckons me to come fill the other seat. As I move forward slowly to do so, I study him.
What I see is confusing. I can't see the Jarod I was searching for. Instead I see someone more like Sydney. Now that I think about it, too much like Sydney. As I make the leap of logic, I can see through the mask to Jarod, tiny little glimpses that are revealing--anger, at himself and the situation, worry (for me--I wonder for a moment if I look that bad, then decide I don't want to know), and instense concentration. I see immediately why this place wanted him so badly. He's good, almost too good. Even *I* can only see through intermittently. What is going on?
--
Jarod knew what was going on--exactly what was going on. He didn't like it at all. Somehow had come up with the perfect trap for him: put the fate of a small girl in his hands, a small girl who could practically read the thoughts as they crossed his mind. All he had to do is convince her that he really wanted her to help the Centre. The problem was he could only succeed if he could convince himself. Or at least that was the plan. He hoped that there was some way that they could trick their observers, at least long enough for Janie to be rescued.
Meanwhile, the perceptive 4-year-old was taking a seat across the table from him. She was good--her face was impassive, her thoughts unreadable. He couldn't tell for certain if she was buying the act or not, but he had to continue as though she was. He had slipped himself as far into the role as he could, and now he was ready to begin.
--
He smiles at me, relaxed and friendly. "You're pretty good--you might have caught up to me if I hadn't come back on my own."
I'm skeptical, but I'll play along. "Why did you come back?"
Jarod settles back. I can't see him through the mask. That scares me, and I wonder again what is going on. "I heard you were having trouble adjusting. This place can be scary at first, but I have lots of great memories from here, and I'm sure you will too." At this I catch a burst of bitterness from the "real" Jarod. I'm relieved, but also worried--why is he doing this to himself?
I couldn't accept this so easily, if if I did buy his act. "If it's so great, why are there guards?"
"They're for your protection. I know you've had a bad experience, but..." The hesitation in his monologue is one only I would notice, but if gives me a glimpse of him and he's tearing himself apart.
I cut in as though I'm reading his features. "Infiltrators?" I give my voice a surprised tone.
--
Jarod was relieved, but also embarassed. Once again a 4-year-old was helping him, instead of the other way around.
He wasn't going to waste it, though, and the play had to go on. He nodded sympathetically. "I'm very sorry, but I'm also going to help in sorting out the people who want to hurt you so you will be safe here." Then he indicated the folder on the table. "They need your help with this... They need more information on this man." He passed the folder across the table to her. He then listened to her begin to explain what she saw. At first it was general information, then her tone changed ever so slightly, though she kept her body language the same.
"He knows that he's in danger. Why is he more worried about someone else?" She looked up at him, waiting expectantly for an answer. Okay, so it wasn't a rhetorical question.
"Why do *you* think he does that?" It was too dangerous to give a real response.
She looked back down at the picture. "He doesn't value himself... But he is going to get himself hurt if he tries to help someone who doesn't want it."
"What if that person needs his help?"
"He's in more danger. They both heard something from outside and stuidiously ignored it. "But he's not going to change his mind until its too late. Someone should tell him." She spoke as though she were looking in his eyes, even though they were trained on the picture.
--
I've done the best I can do. Jarod continues the game. "Do you see anything--" he's interrupted by the door slamming open.
I look back to see three of the resident goons in suits entering. Jarod knocks over his chair in an instinctive attempt to get away, but they grab him and after a brief struggle have him firmly in their grasp. The third takes hold of me and I don't bother to struggle.
A man I haven't met yet enters the room. As I'm dragged from the room I can see Jarod begin to struggle, clearly furious. I've seen just enough of this man to know that his hatred is justified. Sick is an understatement.
There is no sign of Sydney, and suddenly I realize that I'm not being taken back to my room. After a short ride in the elevator, I find myself instead in a room that looks like part of a hospital ward.
As soon as we get through the door, I see what looks suspiciously like a surgery table, and that's all I need to see. Recoiling, I get my teeth around one of the hands that holds me. With a roar of pain he releases me. I spin to see that the door has been closed by a new presence--an old man who is pulling an oxygen tank. If anything, I think, got the worse deal between Jarod and I.
The goon gets hold of me again, holding me much tighter than necessary. The ghastly man in front of me smiles, and I shudder. "Relax, Janie... this will be a nearly painless procedure." The goon drags me to the table, but not before I get my two cents in.
"I'm fine, I don't need any 'procedure'!" I scream. To no avail. As the goon straps me to the table, I see the man with the oxygen tank coming close, holding a mask. I take a deep breath, holding it in as an act of protest. He places the mask firmly over my face and smiles at me, causing me to shudder again. While my attention is elsewhere, the good deals a stunning blow to my stomach that expels all my precious air. I try not to breath, but I have to gasp in air after a moment. It is strangely humid, and I immediately feel a warmth spreading through me... then I feel nothing.
-----
"What are you doing?" Jarod yelled furiously. "Haven't you done enough yet??"
Lyle smirked. "We'll have done enough when you and your young friend understand that we only accept cooperation."
"We WERE cooperating!"
"I'm not stupid, and the only people you were cooperating with were each other."
Jarod had calmed a bit by this point. Now he just wanted information. "What do you want?" He made it clear in his tone that he didn't mean generally.
Lyle smirked again. "Just to remind you that your actions will have immediate effects on others--as you'll soon see."
Jarod hated to beg, but this wasn't for himself. "Wait! Don't hurt her, she's just a child... give me another chance!"
"Oh, you'll get another chance," Lyle grinned, "right after Raines and I have had ours." With that, he turned and left, followed by the sweepers.
He didn't know how long he'd been pacing around the room, probably at least three hours, before the door opened and slammed closed, startling him out of his thoughts. Just inside the door he could see Jani, and he jumped to his feet. "What's wrong?" he asked immediately. "Are you okay?" He moved toward her, trying to see what they might have done to her. Maybe Lyle had been bluffing... he hoped...
She began to cry silently and shook her head, then moved to the corner, away from him. He followed. Kneeling next to her, he rubbed her back soothingly. Finally, he asked quietly, "What happened, Janie?" In the back of his mind, he wondered why they were letting him comfort her.
Getting no response to the question, he gently turned her head so he could see her face. "Janie, talk to me."
What he got was not what he expected. "Leave me alone!!" she screamed at the top of her lungs, then shoved him back and retreated to another corner. She curled into a ball, and Jarod followed her once more. What was going on?
He reached out to touch her, then recoiled when she started at his touch. Facts began to fall into place in his head--but that couldn't be it, why would they do that?
There was one way to find out. He lifted his hands from her back, then clapped right next to her ear. No response. Fury welled up inside of him. How could they have deafened a 4-year-old CHILD???
--
I lay still, and after a pause Jarod's gentle rubbing returns. I can guess that's probably figured out what I figured out almost from the moment I woke up. I don't want to see it in his eyes, though, so I let him continue to rub my back and try to pretend like the room is just very quiet.
Finally, I work up the courage to turn and look him in the eyes. I see sympathy, but also a deep sense of guilt. "It's not your fault," I tell him, my tone a bit confused. Why would it be his fault?
Jarod frowns. I can see that he doesn't agree. For a moment, I forget myself as I try to help him instead. "You couldn't have stopped them, and nothing can make you responsible for what people like THEM do," I tell him firmly.
A strange expression crosses his face. It takes me a moment to recognize what it is--he's listening to something.
--
"How sweet," said Lyle's voice, dripping with sarcasm. "You think that she would still offer you forgiveness if she knew the truth?"
"And what truth is that, Lyle?" Jarod challenged.
"The truth about how many lives you've ruined. Everywhere you go you leave destruction in your path."
"That's the Centre, not me!" he yelled back.
"But you *are* the Centre, Jarod.. For more than thirty years you propelled ahead of even the best technologies that anyone else could propose." He paused. "You can't tell me that you, the genius, really could have missed the potential of your simulations? No, you just closed your eyes. Opening them now can't redeem you."
--
I can't hear what's being said, but I can see Jarod's expression. First he looks angry, then stricken. He doesn't seem to see me--instead he is watching some horrible internal film, his thoughts spinning.
"Jarod, listen to me! Don't listen to that person, he only wants to hurt you!"
--
"Yes, Jarod, ignore me. I'm already enjoying the possibilities of what we can do to your little friend next. She needs her eyes... but what about her legs? Please, Jarod, ignore me, then explain to Janie why she will never be able to walk again!"
"You're sick!" cried Jarod, leaping to his feet.
"No, *you* are sick. Why would you encourage your friend to rebel when you knew there would be consequences. It's just business for me, but *you* are betraying a friend!"
--
One glance in my direction is all I need to see to know that they are discussing me, at least in part. Frustration is welling up in me. Still, I don't know how to intervene because I can't hear what they are saying.
I watch as Jarod's face hardens. Finally, he looks down at me, then points to the table.
I'm not going for that. I shake my head stubbornly. He gives me a stern look. I close my eyes in defiance, but they fly open again when he not so gently takes my arm and drags me to my feet. I look in his eyes, but Jarod is gone and he's pretending again.
He drags me to the table, sits me down, and then I voice the obvious question. "Um, have you forgotten that I can't hear?"
Jarod turns and says something to the camera. I want to scream. I'm so used to understanding, and now... I find myself blinking back tears as Jarod looks back. He's more relaxed now, closer to the real Jarod. I can see he knows how I feel, but he ignores that and instead sets to work: teaching me sign language.
I emphasize every difficulty possible, trying to prolong the process. At times, Jarod tries to hurry me; others, he helps me stall. Sometimes it seems to me like he is biding his time, as if he has some hope, but I tell myself that it can't be true. I'm tired of being disappointed.