Muted Trilogy: Mute Part 10

She nodded, continuing the checkout process as if nothing were unusual about him. When he left without trying to speak further, she glanced around to make sure n.o.body needed her help, then opened up a search engine on the computer. "Talking hat" returned no relevant results, and neither did "wire head wrist." Before she could try another search term, she got a message from Jack.

CapJack284: What the heck was he wearing?

LibraryOneWest: I was trying to figure that out, myself.

CapJack284: Google race? First person to find the answer wins king of the library?

Jemma smiled.

LibraryOneWest: Or queen. I'm an excellent Googler.

CapJack284: Prove it ;) Time starts in 3...

Wait, she typed before he could continue his countdown.

CapJack284: ?

Glad he couldn't see how wide her grin was, she continued typing.

LibraryOneWest: What if it was some top secret advanced military experiment and searching for it will get us on a list of potential terrorists?

CapJack284: Eh. I'm probably on it already if they really waste time monitoring every search. You ready for this?

LibraryOneWest: You're on.

CapJack284: Then... Go!

Laughing silently at the missing countdown this time, Jemma switched back to the web browser and tried a few more searches. Finally, with a triumphant press of the return key, she sent him a promising link before she could finish reading through its content. While waiting for his response, she read the rest of the article.

Naturally Speaking A small tech company based in Florida has managed to create a device that can translate thought into spoken word.

Sound too good to be true? It might be.

While the device seems functional, it has its drawbacks. The processing power required to harness brain waves - based on technology used in mind control experiments, because that's comforting - doesn't leave enough room for advanced voice synthesis, so the audible result is mangled at best. Additionally, sending the thought seems to take intense concentration, and words don't always translate correctly, with an end result similar to speech-to-text programs from the '90s.

As if this weren't enough, the FDA warns potential users that the machine's effects have not been thoroughly studied, but they believe it could increase risk of certain cancers in the user.

If you still find yourself interested, you can't purchase a unit yet. In its testing phase, the machine, called WalknTalk, is only issued to those who pa.s.s what seem to be rigorous exams. Trial users are required to report to the company daily, so I'm sorry, fellow Texans, but we probably can't make the commute.

CapJack284: I bow down to my queen.

CapJack284: Also? People are crazy.

Jemma shrugged to herself.

LibraryOneWest: They want things to go back to normal. That's not so weird. I think I'm rather in the minority, liking things this way.

She felt her face heat. She'd not actually admitted that fact to anybody other than her telepathic stranger. She knew her family suspected it, but she hadn't come out and told them.

CapJack284: Nothing wrong with being in a minority. I can see both sides. If you could hear me, you'd know my voice is just dripping with charm ;) LibraryOneWest: Ha! Dripping with something.

CapJack284: You wound me.

CapJack284: Anyway, my point is, I wouldn't want to wear cancerous head gear just so that I could sound like a confused robot.

Jemma covered her mouth, trying her best not to laugh; even soundlessly, if she were to start shaking, people might wonder what was so funny about the library computer.

LibraryOneWest: You're being so mean to my patrons.

CapJack284: So if I were to look over the balcony right now, I wouldn't catch one of your smiles?

LibraryOneWest: I said nothing of the sort.

CapJack284: :-p Another patron approached, and Jemma smiled, collecting herself as she saw it was Mariah.

"I haven't seen you in a couple of weeks," Jemma typed for her tablet to vocalize. "How have you been?"

Mariah smiled and typed back.

"My boyfriend and I can Talk now. It doesn't fix everything, but it's a start. At least now we've got a shot at working through things. It might be good that my new apartment fell through and I had to stay at his place."

Jemma nodded. "Well, good for you! I hope it goes well." She checked Mariah's book out to her account.

"Thanks," wrote Mariah before accepting the book and leaving, bounce in her step.

Jemma tapped her finger lightly on the desk, then sent a mental message.

"Would you ever take back someone who had cheated on you?" echoed in her mind.

There were only a few seconds of silence before he responded. "I think it depends on the circ.u.mstances."

"If the person slept with your best friend and you only found out when the two of them were able to Talk to each other but not you?"

"Ouch," he sent, sounding serious rather than amused as he so often did. "I'm not so sure about that one."

"Me neither."

"Is that..." he started. "That's not why you can only Talk to family, is it?"

"Oh!" Jemma blinked. "No, it wasn't me. I don't think I've ever been in a relations.h.i.+p serious enough to be able to Talk."

"Really? Never?"

"You don't need to sound so surprised. I enjoy my alone time. I don't seek others out often."

"You talk to me plenty."

Jemma's mouth lifted at one corner. "Yeah, well, you're different."

The connection between them had gotten easier to sense with practice, so when a patron approached her and she withdrew from their conversation, she knew he was unlikely to try Talking more until either some time had pa.s.sed or she'd indicated she was no longer busy.

The rest of the day went quickly, the library clearing out, as usual, shortly after 4 o'clock, leaving just Jemma and Jack while Jemma got things wrapped up for the evening. Jack had just come down the stairs and was walking her way when there was a loud bang behind her.

She spun around, but she didn't see anything out of place. It seemed as if it might have come from the staff room. Had Cecily forgotten something? Jemma started walking toward the staff room, pausing when Jack tapped on the counter. He set down his laptop bag and grabbed the nearest large book. It was probably Cecily, maybe Susan, so though she didn't gesture for Jack to stay back, she did indicate that he should stand just behind her. He complied with a nod, holding the book like a weapon.

As she peered in through the doorway, the inner door open as usual when there wasn't a staff meeting, her face was struck by a breeze, and she frowned at the open employee entrance. The room was empty and seemed otherwise undisturbed. The air moved again, more strongly this time, and the outward-opening door was slammed against the brick wall, recreating the bang they'd heard. A small stack of papers went flying, landing haphazardly on the floor when the wind subsided. She glanced back at Jack, then under the desks in case somebody was hiding. She bent to pick up the papers, and Jack moved past her, looking out the door and turning his head each way before coming back inside, shutting the door firmly behind him.

She placed the papers on the desk and pulled out her phone.

That door couldn't have been open for more than a few minutes. Nothing was out of place until the papers blew off. That would've happened earlier if it had been open. And it locks automatically, so n.o.body opened it from the outside.

He nodded and then jerked his head toward the main part of the library. She followed him, and he stopped at the tablet.

The front door is locked? he typed. Jemma nodded. Let's check the rest of the building.

They did, quickly verifying that n.o.body else was present. Jemma pulled out her phone again, remembering her first impulse, and texted Cecily.

Did you come back by here? The employee door was open.

She showed the text to Jack in explanation as she waited for a response. Her phone buzzed.

No. It was locked and latched when I left. I checked. Do you need me to text the police? Cecily had typed.

I'll handle it, wrote Jemma. Nothing else seems to be wrong, and a patron I trust helped me make sure n.o.body was in the building. Another patron probably just sneaked in when I was doing reports and left through the nearest exit.

If you don't object, I'll text the non-emergency line and have the police make an extra couple of pa.s.ses tonight. I've asked them to do that once or twice when something felt wrong, Cecily replied before she had put her phone away.

That's fine. Thank you, wrote Jemma. She shoved her phone in her pocket. Jack followed her as she checked the employee exit again, making sure it was locked and shut firmly, and then they went out the main entrance, both of them scanning the parking lot while Jemma locked the door. They walked to Jemma's car, where Jack stopped and pulled out a cell phone. He typed before turning the phone so she could read it.

Can I have your phone number? Facebook friend you? Home IM name? Something so that we can talk a bit easier in the parking lot and so I know you get home safe tonight?

Jemma paused for long enough that he turned the phone back around and typed again.

Is that weird to ask for?

She shook her head, then pulled out her phone, created a contact, and entered his name before pa.s.sing him the phone. He typed in his number and returned her phone, and she pressed the b.u.t.ton to send him a text.

This is me. It's almost always on silent. I use it to text to my mom and sister and for emergencies, mostly. I'll text you when I get home.

Okay :), he sent back. He waved at her and got in his car, waiting until she was in hers and moving to pull out of the parking lot.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN:.

Not Just a Dream On some level, Jemma knew she was dreaming, but that didn't stop the flood of adrenaline as she tried to escape the person or thing that was chasing her. Each time she looked back, the shapeless being seemed larger and more menacing. She was running through the library parking lot, which kept stretching longer, farther, the safety of her car impossibly out of her reach.

She tripped, skinning her knee painfully on the ground, getting back up as she heard the being approach.

"Help," she yelled. "Please!"

"Jemma?" She heard him nearby and managed another burst of speed, ignoring the trickle of blood down one leg. She didn't think he was a good fighter, but between the two of them, they could figure something out.

She dodged a traffic cone and leapt over a concrete parking block. Glancing behind her, she saw it was closer than she'd thought, and she made a sudden turn to her left, darting beside the library. The parking lot was plunged into darkness.

"Where are you?" she called, running through the pitch black air that seemed to be grabbing at her, slowing her down.

"I'm here, Jemma!"

She darted toward the voice she trusted, her feet getting heavier as the creature gained on her. She yelped as she slammed into something in front of her.

"It's me." His chest rumbled against her hands. "It's just me. You're... I think you're dreaming. It's morning. It isn't night."

A dream. Right. She knew it was a dream. The creature behind her growled, and she spun to face it, standing next to her unseen friend, her heart rate still elevated. The darkness approached, two glowing eyes s.h.i.+ning brightly enough that she looked away, straight into the eyes of- She sat up in bed, panting, heart racing.

"It's okay, Jemma," the familiar voice continued to speak soothingly, the sound echoing in her mind.

"Jack?"

"It's me."

"It's you?" Her mind racing, her body still dealing with its dream-induced fight-or-flight response, she had trouble straightening her thoughts. "It's... It's been you the whole time?"

There was a brief pause before he responded, tone laced with apprehension and an attempt at humor. "As far as I know, I've never been anyone else."

"Did you," Jemma started, wrapping her hands around her legs. "Did you know it was me?"

"Not for certain. I suspected, though. Was pretty sure."

Jack. Two of the people she'd interacted with most often on a daily basis, the patron and the telepathic stranger, they were the same person. How had she not put it together? He Talked just like he wrote. She couldn't quite reconcile it in her head, the fact that she'd been Talking to Jack, not just some stranger, and that she'd been unaware of the fact while Jack, apparently, had already guessed. What else had she missed that was right in front of her?

"How long?" she asked.

"How long have I had a good idea it was you?"

"Yes. How long?"

"That day you tried to send the image. You stopped trying at the same time as your tablet started talking. That's when I started wondering. Almost said something in the parking lot that night, but I wasn't sure. Not enough to say it, not if I was wrong."

She remembered his hesitation at her car, that night clearer than most because of how fl.u.s.tered she'd been.

Jack continued speaking. "And then it was little things. You sounded like yourself, once I started listening for it. You use some of the same words and phrases. And you had a habit of pulling away from the conversation while helping someone. I was sure enough to tell you, but you'd seemed so against dropping the anonymity."

She closed her eyes, resting her forehead against her knees. He was giving her a chance to think, a chance to process, but he hadn't withdrawn, and neither did she.