It was one of the few gifts that he really considered curses. Every moment, every human interaction, readers swam in the river of lies that made up everyday life. Worse, they picked up on the darker elements of personalities, the universal Jungian shadow of the human mind, the part that relished torture and pain and humiliation. Everyone had that shadow. For most people, it was controlled, expressed in subverted ways: pornography, aggressive sports, violent daydreams. It was part of the human animal, and most of the time, a harmless part. Thoughts were only thoughts, after all, and these were held close.
But readers saw them all around, in every person. Every kindness was underscored by it. Daddy might protect you, but a tiny part of him wanted to hold the babysitter down and do things to her. Mommy might wipe your tears, but something in her wanted to claw your arms and shriek in your face to shut the hell up. Unsurprisingly, readers ran to madness. The healthiest usually ended up shut-ins, locked in a tiny controlled world where they could count on the things around them.
Most committed suicide.
Robert Kobb coughed into a closed fist and said, “You’ll have to forgive Millicent. She says what’s on her mind.”
“Nothing to forgive,” Cooper said. “She’s right.”
“Yes, I know.” Robert Kobb gave a bland smile and settled himself on the couch beside Millicent. She shied away from him without glancing from her game. Kobb said, “You’re actually Nick Cooper.”
“Yeah.”
“Erik asked me to clear the time as soon as he heard from you this morning. He didn’t tell me what this was in reference to.”
Cooper flopped in one of the chairs, measured the lawyer. Something about the man bugged him. The pose of authority, calling his boss by his first name. That and his veneer of aw-shucks normalcy. “He didn’t know. Ask you a question?”
“Certainly.”
“What’s it like helping to build New Canaan when you’re not gifted?”
By the window, Shannon swallowed a laugh. The lawyer’s smile curdled slightly. “A privilege. Why?”
“Call me curious.”
Kobb nodded, made an unconvincing it’s-nothing gesture. “What we’re doing here matters. It’s an incredible opportunity. Never in history has there been an initiative like this. A chance to build a new world.”
“Especially with someone else’s money. Sounds like a no-lose.”
Millicent smiled into her game.
“Hmm.” The phone at the lawyer’s belt vibrated, and he unclipped it, read the message. “Ahh. Erik is about to arrive. He’s in Manhattan.”
“He flew in for this?”
“No,” Kobb said, the smugness back. “He’s in Manhattan now.”
“Then—”
Before he could finish the question, Erik Epstein appeared behind the desk.
Cooper was halfway out of his chair with realizing he’d moved, his body on full combat alert. His mind spinning, analyzing the situation—
A gift like Shannon’s? Had he been here all the time, somehow?
No, Epstein’s gift is for data.
Some unheard of piece of newtech? Cloaking? Teleportation? Ridiculous.
But there he is. Live and in the flesh…
Got it.
—and realizing what he was looking at. “Wow. That is something.”
Erik Epstein smiled. “Sorry to startle you.”
Now that he’d had a moment, Cooper could see the faint gauziness at the man’s edges, as if he’d been smeared. The shadows were off, too; wherever Epstein was, the lighting was different from here. He looked like a special effect from a movie in the eighties, completely convincing until you really looked.
“One of our newest developments,” Kobb said. “Fundamentally similar to the technology in a tri-d set, only significantly amplified.”
“A hologram.”
“Yes,” Epstein said. He grinned. “Not bad, huh?”
“Not bad at all.” That’s a decade past the best the DAR has ever managed. Even with the academy graduates.
In person—well, sort of—Erik Epstein looked a little less polished than he did in broadcasts. He still had the boyish good looks, the raffish hair, but he seemed less stiff. Dressed in a summer-weight suit with no tie, he’d have been at home in an expensive country club. “I’d shake your hand, but—” He lifted one arm, flexing the fingers. “One of the limitations. Still, it beats a speakerphone.”
“Thank you for meeting us on short notice,” Shannon said. She was somehow beside him, settling into a chair.