The Focus Effect

Five

My freedom was short lived.  I wake up in my old tiny sterilized room with its illuminated walls and stainless steel toilet bowl.  My old stomping grounds, I think sarcastically as I roll onto my back and stare at the ceiling.  They didn't bother to put me in my bed but instead dropped me face down on the floor.  I've been stripped of the comfortable clothes I picked up at the cottage and now wear plain blue scrubs again.  Pushing myself up, I rub my chest where I was shot with the dart.  I'm surprised there's no pain in the area.  The exhaustion that I felt earlier is completely gone.

There's been an addition to my room.  A TV like the one from the Safe Room is hanging on the wall.  I have a sudden impulse to tear it from its anchor and jump up and down on it, but restrain myself.  If I want to see Doctor Sue again, this is likely the only way it will happen.

Hours begin to pass, then days.  There's nothing for me to do in this tiny room.  Any books or writing materials I had were removed.  My activities are limited.  I can sleep, exercise, shower and think.  So this is what I do.  If the lights come, I shift my focus and make them go away.  I feel like a fish in a bowl with everyone watching me—and I don't want to perform for anyone. 

On the front of the TV is a red call button.  If I push it, I imagine someone will answer.  I avoid doing this.  But after what I figure has been about twenty-one days of isolation, I begin to reconsider my strategy.  I gain nothing by not exploring what I might be capable of.  I mean, what if I have laser vision like Superman and can melt locks?  That would come in handy.  Who cares if they know I can do it?  They would definitely send someone to talk to me then. 

I stand in front of the mirror at the sink and study myself.  The silver markings on my skin have faded into obscurity.  If I didn't know they were there, I don't think I'd even notice them.  My hair is getting longer and I think I looked better bald than with the amount that has grown in. 

I shift my focus and look for the lights, finding them easily.  I see them coming and going through the room.  I shift my focus deeper to find the threads that orbit objects and people.  I turn my attention to the threads directly around me.  They are golden sunlight.  The ones I see around people are always golden.  I see what I'm looking for almost immediately—a disconnected thread of light.  A closer inspection of the thread reveals that it is frayed green at one end.  Each frayed piece represents a possibility, none of which I understand.  Could this disconnected thread of light be the cause of my amnesia?  I understand the thread itself, but the frays are a mystery.  I also see where the loose end of this thread of light belongs.  But without understanding the frays, there's no way I'm putting it back.  I think about what happened to Bob.  What if the blue thread I had removed from him had somehow become frayed?  That could explain his malfunction.  I change my focus and leave the lights.

My options are limited.  The way I see it, I can either live out the remainder of my life here in isolation or give Kingshire what he wants.  Neither option is appealing.  If I stay here, I'm essentially giving up in order to stick to my principles, a noble choice but not very smart.  Kingshire may even grow tired of this waiting game and experiment on me anyway.  Would he kill me?  Now that I think about it, he isn't going to leave me here forever.  I sent a lot of electricity into Bob, not to mention that I don't need to eat or drink.  The program has too much to gain by understanding my abilities.  I think Robert Kingshire is the type of man who will not stop until he gets what he wants.  So this is my other choice—to give him what he wants.  This gives me an idea.  What if he only thinks he's getting what he wants?  If I'll really be doing some of the things he said, then at some point I could expose him to the outside world.  Save a hostage, contact the FBI, he's done, right?  Would it be that easy?  But what if this sort of thing is condoned in his line of work and there are no consequences for his actions?  Either way, I have to understand what I'm becoming and use it to my advantage.  Hiding like I have been for the past weeks has served no purpose.  True, my arms are getting a little buff from all the push-ups I'm doing, but that's beside the point. 

I go to the TV and place my finger on the red call button.  I hesitate.  I need to think about this.  Should I cry when I speak to him?  Should I be broken, willing to sell my soul for my freedom?  Will it even be him that I reach when I push the button?  I think about the awful things Kingshire said to Doctor Sue.  It makes me angry all over again.  Screw it, I'll just be myself. 

I push the button.

The TV comes on and I can see an empty desk with a bookshelf behind it.  After a few moments, Kingshire sits down at the desk and folds his hands on top of it.  He looks the very definition of a Super Villain, minus the requisite eye patch.  I hate him. 

"My dear, Hannah," he intones, all smiles.

"I'm mad at you," I say bluntly.  "Why did you have to treat Doctor Sue the way you did?"

His expression changes and he gives me a scathing glare.  "I've done nothing but try to help you, Hannah.  What have you to be mad at me for?"

"Did I stutter?  I'm mad at you for purposely hurting Doctor Sue," I fume.  "That was a hell of a way to find out that she lost her family." 

"I tried to tell you," he says trying to keep his cool, teeth clenched.  "The world is a cold place.  Honesty provides direction.  I will not tolerate dissension in the ranks.  I will not have subordinates questioning my orders.  I told Doctor Carter what she needed to hear so she would remember that.  You better remember it, too."

His snide remark really pisses me off.  "I don't think I'll be able to forget," I shoot back.    "Can we end this standoff so I can go back to the cottage?"

He moistens his lips.  "No, I don't think so.  Not yet.  You have to regain my trust, show me you're capable of following orders."

"Fine," I concede, exasperated.  "How am I supposed to do that from this tiny box?" 

I watch him closely, waiting for him to tell me how to win back that trust.  He suddenly looks like a tired old man to me, remorseful, subdued.  Incredibly, I find myself feeling sorry for him.  Is it possible that he thinks he's doing the right thing?  To further confuse me, he apologizes. 

"I'm sorry, Hannah."  He sounds sincere.  "I hold a very stressful position with a lot of responsibility.  If I make a mistake, people die.  I've come to find that it's easier to keep people alive when no one likes you."  It's as if he realizes that he has just allowed me to see a part of him that he prefers to keep hidden.  "We'll begin in the morning," he says abruptly.  "Goodnight." 

The monitor goes dark and I'm left to wonder what the hell just happened.  I'm confused by my feelings.  Kingshire is definitely insensitive to others, but that doesn't necessarily make him a bad person, does it?  I try to go to sleep, but before I do, I have a moment of clarity.  I'm doing what I have to to survive.  It doesn't matter what kind of person Kingshire is. He's made it abundantly clear that I am not free to leave and that he alone holds that freedom in his hands. It's too bad for Kingshire that I would lie, cheat, steal, or even kill for my freedom.  Things are about to get interesting because all bets are off.