-Chapter Four-

It wasn't until later she realized she'd forgotten her apology altogether. She'd been so startled by Sasha's reaction to… to what? She hadn't even said anything in particular. She'd only been chastising him about the soup, which she'd done several times before. And he had reacted like she'd never seen him react. How utterly strange. How utterly… intriguing.

She didn't want to go back right away and push him. But she also wanted, so badly, to try to find out what had bothered him. He'd always acted so annoyingly closed to her. He knew everything about her. He knew every memory and hope and concern and… everything. And she knew nothing. If only she could get inside his brain, just for a moment, to find out why—

Milla was levitating a glass of water in front of her when the thought came. It was so simple. So unbelievably simple and perfect.

The glass dropped and shattered. The students who had been gathered around her, watching, shrieked and jumped back. Milla remembered what she was doing.

"And that is why you must remain focused," she called. "The rate of gravity is almost ten feet per second. That means things fall fast when you break your concentration. Levitation is not something you can stop. You have to gradually begin..." She let the pieces of the glass rise. For a moment they swirled, they placed themselves back together. "…and gradually come out of." Gently, she set the glass down. The students clapped. She dismissed them and they scattered, probably to practice levitating in their cabins, even though she'd already expressedly told them not to until at least one more lesson.

Dismayed, she nudged the glass with her foot. It fell apart. She could put it together with her mind, but once it was shattered, she couldn't get the pieces to stay unless she continued to force them together. The students wouldn't realize she hadn't fixed the glass until much later.

She dumped the pieces in a nearby trash can and began strolling towards Sasha's lab. It was almost dinner time; she passed the lodge on her way to the woods. It was brightly lit against the twilight sky, and she could hear students laughing and chattering in additions to the clanking of their silverware. A loud crash informed her that Sasha had been doing his job; he was in charge of teaching the students the more violent aspects of the psychic arts, shooting things with mental energy and controlling their negative feelings into something useful. The shrieking laughter of students and smashing of things in the lodge followed Milla into the woods. She sighed. She loved children, but being around them always plucked at her heartstrings. Sometimes she preferred the tranquility of the forest to their exuberant shrieks.

As she made her way over the uneven ground, she tried to think of what she'd say to Sasha. Flattery was probably the best way to go. She'd express an interest and beg him to show her, and maybe he'd let her into his brain. Then again, Sasha was fairly good at detecting insincerity. And he'd never show her anything if he thought she was prying. But she wasn't really prying. They were partners, weren't they? She deserved to know what was going on in Sasha's head, especially if it was coming out and toying around with their relationship.

Compared with the campground, Sasha's lab was eerily quiet. In fact, too quiet. As she descended the stairs, Milla realized the only noise was her heels tapping on the floor. There was no clanking or whirling or clattering.

Puzzled, she paused to look around when she'd reached the bottom of the stairs. She spotted Sasha; he had fallen asleep in his chair, head in his arms. A cigarette was lying on the floor next to him, still smoking. Milla hurried down to grind it out.

Poor Sasha, she thought. He'd finally done what she'd warned against for years, working himself into a state of unconsciousness. She reached out and stroked his hair, and gently pulled off his glasses, setting them beside him. He didn't stir; he continued napping peacefully. She couldn't wake him. He needed the sleep, that much was obviously. There were dark circles on his pallid face, circles normally hid beneath his sunglasses. Milla would just have to wait.

It did seem a pity, though, that she'd come all the way down here only to find Sasha asleep. Absent-mindedly, she began walking around the lab, trailing her hand over the panels. She thought about levitating Sasha to bed, but decided he'd only be offended if she treated him like a child. Let him sleep in his chair.

She paused. Here was a console with only a few knobs on it, and only a few buttons. She glanced anxiously behind her. There was Sasha's large, laser-like instrument, the Brain Tumbler, his so-called in-between, the Collective Unconscious. One manicured nail was already circling a red button. Sasha was asleep, sound asleep, practically in a state of living death. He'd never know if she peeked into his brain for, say, five minutes, would he? She could learn everything in the blink of an eye. And, being unconscious, it was would so much less restricted… unguarded…

Milla's finger pressed the button.

"Oops," she said, as a dozen lights came on. Compulsively, she turned a knob. The lights grew brighter. She wandered over to the front of the brain Tumbler, remembering with a sinking feeling Sasha's dull warning about how it sometimes scrambled up minds or failed altogether. Just as she was about to move out of the way, she felt a sensation like a knife going through the back of her head. There was a moment of searing, splitting pain, followed by an unpleasant but not painful feeling of being yanked or dragged, like a hook was in her head. Sasha's lab swum before her eyes. She couldn't feel the ground. She felt like she was falling or floating… or both.

And then, with a nauseating jolt, her feet were again on the floor.

Dizzily, she looked up, aware that her hair was completely messed up. She tried to run her fingers through it as she looked around. Was this Sasha's mind? No; there was nothing here. It was like a circular hallway, but without walls or ceilings. It was empty except for doors. Dozens of doors.

Hesitantly, Milla poked a foot out. The narrow circle of carpeting she was on didn't even have a railing. And all around her was fog. She dangled her foot over the edge, trying to determine if there was a bottom. But she couldn't see one. Abruptly, her shoe fell off. She watched it plunge into the fog, feeling sick. But only seconds later, it fell from the sky and clattered next to her.

Milla looked up. Was there direction here? She was tempted to levitate and find out. Then again, what if she went up and got lost in the fog? She could come down and miss this platform and fall forever. What about in the physical world? Would she be crazy, away from her own mind for the rest of her life? Would her consciousness be trapped here, in this dreamscape that was no one's mind?

Of course, Milla hadn't opted to become an agent because she was a coward. No, she was all about adventure. And, she reassured herself, if she did get lost, Sasha would probably come after her.

She concentrated, letting her body float up. Her feet left solid ground and she was soon high above the circular hallway and its doors. It disappeared in the fog. She continued to go up—up—up. There was no way to tell how fast she was traveling, or if she was even still moving at all. She didn't have time to worry, though; before she knew what was happening, she'd smashed her head onto something above her. She rubbed it and looked up; she was below the floor. So there was no direction in this place. It was infinite, but its center was this hallway. Any direction she moved in would take her back. It was like a circle turned inside out. Moving out was in and moving up was down and… and…

Milla climbed back onto the platform and shook out her head. No; physics didn't apply here. This place was a purely mental one. And, she reminded herself, she wasn't anywhere yet. She was looking for Sasha's mind. Not this place.

She reached for the first door and tugged the doorknob. Locked. And possibly not even the right mind. But she'd know Sasha's mind when she saw it. He was her partner. She knew she'd find it.

She gave it another tug, then pushed experimentally. The door swung open; she stepped through before she realized it didn't lead anywhere. She fell through the fog and landed with a heavy jolt onto the ground again, the open door in front of her. So much for that.

She began walking around the corridor, examining each door. Some were plain. Some had notes scrawled on them in Sasha's handwriting. She made the mistake of touching his scrawling words; the words peeled off the door and floated away.

"Milla, sweetheart, you shouldn't touch anything," Milla advised herself. She didn't understand this place. She didn't want to accidentally destroy something.

She stopped in front of a purple door. Ah-ha! This was Sasha's mind, if ever she'd seen it. For one thing, it was obviously the most active. There were boxes and books stacked in front of it (though all the books were empty, and the boxes were apparently made of mist, since when she tried to touch them, they disappeared), and notes and equations were scribbled all over the wood. Sasha had clearly been spending a lot of time with his experiment, using himself as a guinea pig.

She reached out, trying to ignore her own misgivings about breaking into Sasha's mind, and opened the door. No mist this time; a blinding light came out instead. This door went somewhere. This was no in-between dreamscape; this was a fully functional brain. The loud buzzing coming out of it was evidence of that.

Milla took a deep breath. Did she really want to break into Sasha's mind while he slept and while his defenses were down? She'd come this far. What if he woke up and found her? What if there was something wrong with his machine and she accident all broke both their minds? Come to think of it, how did she even get out of his mind once she was inside?

"I didn't become a secret agent because I'm a coward," Milla reminded herself. And with that, she stepped through the door and into Sasha's consciousness.