Penance

I remember how I used to love the rain. I loved the drops of water falling on my face, and I loved the sweet odour just when it would begin to rain. It was not so anymore. I do not mean that I dislike it now - I am just indifferent. I am indifferent to the rain, to the heat, cold, to everything.

How many days had I been here in the forest? How far was I from home? Home? Did it even exist anymore? That place which I called home - could I call it by that name ever again?

It was beginning to get dark and yet another of the days that I have lost count of was about to end. I sat down under a tree and soon the fatigue got the better of me. I dreamed of my life before this one, the nightmare that has haunted me ever since this started.

A----- was angry. She was always angry. Sometimes she'd be playfully angry. But this was not one of those times. I could only listen to her and look at how beautiful she looked with her rosy cheeks and sparkling eyes. Yes, she was indeed even more beautiful in her anger. I kept looking at her. What else could I do? We had no money. We had run into debt and that day at the supermarket A-----'s credit card had been refused by the machine. Her anger and frustration were justifed. We just could not carry on like this anymore.

Six months into her pregnancy, A----- could not work and I was yet to find a job that I was not overqualifed for. There was no food at home, we were hungry and so was the unborn soul growing inside of A-----.

Hunger - there was something about this that felt strange. I was at home and yet I was wet and cold. At least the hunger was something that felt real. Real - It's funny how dreams always fall apart the moment we become conscious of reality.

I opened my eyes and stared into the growing darkness, broken only now and then by the faint glitter of raindrops falling from the leaves. Indifferent as I was to everything else, millions of years of evolution prevented me from having the same attitude towards hunger. I got up and started looking for something to eat. It was not diffcult to find. Soon I came upon a tree with small round fruit that tasted like apples but made the mouth rather dry. Irony - It was easier to eat here in the forest than in civilization where one has to earn the right to live and feed oneself and one's family.

I suppose I was very hungry because when I stopped eating, I had already eaten about twenty of the small apples and I was very thirsty. I could hear a stream up ahead and made my way towards it. By then, it was very dark. On other nights the moonlight would be sufficient to make one's way safely through the forest. But that night the moonlight was blocked by the clouds. I had to depend entirely on my hearing to find the source of water. I slipped and stumbled on the rocky path but continued in the direction of the sound
of water.

Finally the sound of the flowing water was very close and I could perceive some movement up in front of me. I walked forward cautiously with my arms stretched out in front of me. Then suddenly my fingers touched the
cold water. Why was it so high up instead of flowing on the ground? Was this a cascade? Why does it stink here? Why do I feel weightless? Wonder - Thought is indeed faster than light.

I felt a sharp blow to my head and a darkness - darker than that of the night - closed in upon me.

That night was dark too. We were expecting it as the result of the unpaid electricity bills. The timing could not have been worse. In the darkness I could no longer see A-----'s face. With nothing to distract me from her words, they now started cutting deeper into the wounds of my conscience. I was irresponsible. I leeched off her income while I was studying for my PhD. She had no savings because of me and now I had no job. It was I who wanted the baby and not she. She wished she'd never met me. It was sickening. I felt like I was about to throw up. Real.

I came to with a throbbing pain in my head and the feeling of nausea caused by the foul stench in this place - wherever this place was. I could feel the cold water around my feet and I could hear the splashing behind me. I must have fallen into this hole as I walked towards the water. I could see some light in the distance and I walked towards it.

As I advanced I became aware of a light splashing that seemed to be moving parallel to me in the darkness to my left. I stopped to look. There was nothing - no movement, no sounds. I turned back to continue on my way. Many minutes later, the light seemed as far away as it was in the beginning, and this splashing was following me relentlessly from the darkness.

I stopped, turned to my left and took out the kitchen knife I had in my pocket. Would I have to use it again?

I called out, "I know you are there. Come out and show yourself." Nothing. I thought I was hallucinating. I started to turn back to face the light when I saw a creature, with bulging eyes, wrinkled skin and tattered clothes jump out from the darkness towards me. My instinct of self-preservation caused me to lift my hands - one of them still holding the knife - to cover my face. As the creature fell upon me I heard the sickening sound of my knife penetrating its throat.

It was not the first time I had heard this sound. It was not the first time this particular knife had done it either. In the darkness of that night A----- continued to vent her frustration by calling me names and cursing her decision to have married me. I sat quietly at the kitchen table with a strange sickness rising up in my throat and a dizziness in my head. I wanted to hold on to something. As I put my hand on the table I touched the knife. At that very moment A----- walked up next to me and shook me, saying "Now say something, will you?" I don't know exactly what I was thinking then, but with one movement I got up and my left hand swung the knife straight into her throat. It was not until a few seconds after the deed that I realized what I had done. In my panic I rushed out of the house, and somehow found my way into the forest. Murder - Why does it bother us so much when it is woven into the very fabric of life here on this planet?

This person that I had killed here in the hole was now lying face down at my feet. I turned away from the corpse to resume my journey towards the light. I do not know how long I had been walking but I was still no closer to it than I was before. I strained my eyes to see something of what was around me but it was too dark. Time did not seem to have any meaning in here, I felt neither hunger nor thirst - only the urge to reach the light. There was one other thing that I felt - Regret.

After what seemed like an eternity, I was still no closer to the light. Then I heard a thud and I saw something fall down in front of me. I went closer to look. It was a man and his face filled me with rage beyond what I have ever known. As he started moving I quietly slipped into the shadows. He got up, looked around and started moving towards the light - it was the only thing to do in this hole. I started following him from within the shadows - my rage growing with every step we took. Once he stopped to look in my direction but I do not think he saw me because he turned back and continued on his path. About an hour later, I could not contain myself any longer and was about to come out of the shadows when he stopped, turned to me and called out. I did not move, but as he turned back I pounced upon him. I did not expect him to be armed but I was wrong. I felt a sharp pain in my throat and moments later I felt nothing at all - ever again.

The man turned and continued towards the light.

Non-Stop Genie

This is a story I heard in my childhood, but I do not remember from whom

Once upon a time, in a land far, far away, there lived a very intelligent young man. One day, as he was rummaging in the cellar of his parents' house for old books to read, he found an old lamp. He had read wonderful stories about genies that came out of lamps to grant wishes, and so he rubbed the side of the lamp.

As soon as he rubbed the side, he heard a rumbling sound from within the lamp. The lamp started shaking, and he dropped it to the ground. There were fumes at the spout of the lamp, and then, with a flash, out came a genie !!

The genie said, "My name Non-Stop Genie! Thank you for freeing me from the lamp. You are now my master and I shall do whatever you will ask of me." The young man was somewhat shaken, but quickly gathered his wits, and asked the genie, "How many wishes do I have ? And what kind of a name is Non-Stop Genie ?"

"You have an unlimited number of wishes. However, you must keep me engaged at all times. The moment I will not have an order to fulfill, I shall kill you, and return to the prison inside the lamp. This is why I am known as Non-Stop Genie."

The young man got rather scared by this, and immediately ordered the genie to arrange all the books in the cellar in neat piles. He thought that the genie would be occupied for at least a few hours, and started mounting the stairs, when the genie called to him, "It is done, Master. What shall I do next ?"

Surprised, the man asked the genie to now order the books by title. Again, the genie was back in less than a minute, waiting for his next order. This time, the man decided to send the genie on a long journey, so he said, "Go get me some snow from the north and south poles." This time, the genie was even faster. He was back within a flash. Seeing this magic, the man was baffled.

The genie promptly reminded him that since no new order seemed forthcoming, he would have to proceed to kill his master. The need for self-preservation became a lubricant and set into motion the gears of the young man's mind, jammed by the rust of fear.

He said, "Go get me a 100 metre long pole".

The genie got it.

"Now plant it in the ground in the backyard."

"Done, Master. What am I to do next ?"

"Now cover this pole with oil and then climb up to the top of the pole."

The genie said, "As you wish, my Master." and started climbing up the oiled-up pole. Every time he would climb an inch, he would slip back to where he started from. Thus, the clever young man saved himself from the "Non-Stop Genie".

The cat who became Station Master

I read about Tama, the cat who became a station master in Japan.
Have a look here.

Recurring dreams

I have had this dream ever since I can remember.

I dream about an infinite staircase, and I am going down it. In the beginning I walk, then start running down the stairs. After some time I start jumping over the steps to go down faster. Since the staircase is infinite, I never reach the bottom though.

In fact, I'm so used to this dream now that whenever I have it, I realize that it is actually a dream, but still continue dreaming.

I wonder if it means anything, and if anyone has had such dreams.

The Impossible Choice

Peter opened his eyes slowly, and let the cool morning light flow in. As he looked out the window, he saw the blue autumn sky, providing the background for leaves drifting down to the earth after having lived out their lifetimes in the heights of the trees. This thought jolted him back to reality, a reality that was as ugly as the morning was beautiful.

He quickly showered and grabbed some breakfast before running off to the hospital. His wife, Sara, was to have an operation today to remove the cancerous tumours that were corroding her from within. Sara was such a sweet little woman, that it was hard to imagine why she should suffer so. ”Life is not just”, thought Peter as he entered the hospital. Just a fraction of a second before he entered Sara’s room, all signs of worry vanished from his face, and he greeted Sara with a great smile. Peter had done this so many times, that it came to him with clockwork precision. Unfortunately, this time to practice his change of expression came at a huge cost, and all of the money that they had been saving for that dream vacation, for their home in the suburbs, for their children’s college education, every last penny was gone. But Peter couldn’t think of these now. As he saw Sara, he thought that she was still so beautiful. He knew how much he loved her, and how much he wanted her to be happy.

Sara was very happy to see Peter, but the heavy medication that she was on permitted her to only manage a feeble smile. They sat there together for a while, talking about each other, holding hands. The moment that Peter dreaded the most had arrived. He had to tell her now. Sara knew that Peter had lost his last job two months ago. Instead of joining another low paying job as a restaurant help, Peter decided to take a chance, and entered an internship that paid him nothing for first two months. However, if he was selected at the end of this period, he would start earning five times as much as he could earn in any of the jobs he could get easily. Both of them had decided that it was worth the gamble. Peter had done very well at the academy, and was confident of gaining the position. He had worked very hard for the last two months, had foreseen everything that a client would want, and had pleased customers on every deal he closed. What Peter did not, and could never foresee, was that the final selection interview would be scheduled on the same day as Sara’s operation. He had to leave, and when he told Sara about it, she was surprisingly strong. Sara told Peter not to worry, and convinced him that there was nothing he could do during the operation, it was the doctors’ show all the way. Hence, it was perfectly alright for Peter to go for the interview. So, reluctant as he was, Peter decided to leave Sara until the afternoon.

As Peter was leaving, the matron called him to her table, as she had some forms for him to fill out. That took quite a lot of time, and Peter was afraid he’d be late for the interview. He rushed out into the street and hailed a taxi, an extravagance, considering his present financial condition, but a necessity, considering the hour. As the taxi rolled out onto the main road, and subsequently sped over the flyovers, Peter began to relax. He was confident that he’d reach the office in a few minutes, and ten minutes remained before the scheduled starting time. Peter closed his eyes, and recalled all the work he’d done in the past two months. The first deal he’d got after making thirty-odd calls, the first time a client had been delighted at his handling of the deal, the first time a client called back and expressly asked for Peter’s services. All this helped Peter calm his nerves, and he was sure he’d get the job.

The taxi suddenly started decelerating, and in less than twenty seconds, it came to a standstill at the end of a huge line of bumper-to bumper traffic. ”Merde !!”, said the French taxi driver, and jolted Peter out of his réverie. As he looked out over the flyover, he saw that the traffic jam extended from the top of the flyover till the road down below, up to a very long distance. He could see his destination from here, but estimated a ten-minute walk down to the building. He would be late, but not too late perhaps. ”Why must it happen now?”, thought Peter as he stepped out of the cab, paid the driver, and started walking. He was walking quite briskly, and the closer he got to the building, the faster he walked. As he left the flyover, Peter could see the famous fountain in front of the museum. Tourists were a regular feature there. Peter thought how fortunate some people were, who had enough money and not enough worries, so that they could visit some place that they’d read about somewhere, and throw coins into a fountain which was supposed to return favours for the coins. How could anyone believe something like that?

Peter’s train of thought was interrupted by a loud screech, followed by a blow to his shin. He was thrown off balance. He had run into the middle of the street as he was looking the other way at the fountain, and had been hit by a car. He was unhurt, thanks to the driver’s excellent reaction time, but his portfolio file, which contained all his hard work through the internship training period, was ruined. It had fallen to the side of the street, and was soggy by the time Peter could pick it up. Peter’s jacket’s right hand sleeve was also torn, but Peter couldn’t wait any more. He quickly got up, collected his things, and rushed off towards the office, leaving the traffic disrupted and eighty-three surprised pedestrians and twenty- four equally surprised motorists following his progress with their eyes.

Peter reached the building looking like a mess, and he left his dripping portfolio in the waiting room. The interview was a disaster for Peter. He had apologized for his appearance, giving an honest account of what happened, but he did not believe it would melt the hearts of the boardroom sharks that made up the jury. There was an hour-long wait before the results would be declared, and all Peter could think of now was something that would help him get the position. He had already lost all hope, but was still trying to think of something, hoping against hope, that would help him get the job. Suddenly, he saw the famous fountain through the window, and he knew what he had to do. He ran out to the fountain, but this time he was more careful about the traffic, and reached there safely. He fished out a coin from his pocket, and prayed hard for the job before he dropped the metal disc into the sparkling water. He couldn’t believe what he was doing. All his life, he had laughed at the fools who willingly dropped coins into a pool of water, and today, he had become one of them.

When Peter returned to the building, the results had already been declared. They were on the board. He saw the candidates crowded around the single piece of paper. From a distance, Peter could see that only two had been chosen from a pool of thirty applicants. As he came closer, all the world became silent, and nothing existed except the paper and himself. He read the names, and could not believe his eyes. The fountain had done what it was fabled to do! Peter had been chosen!! He was overjoyed, and after meeting the jury members, and congratulating the only other successful candidate, he rushed out, and back to see Sara.

Peter was ecstatic. By the end of the week he would have enough cash and all his problems would be over. He would have a steady job, and Sara and he could start saving for their future again. He could start paying off his debts, and would be a free man before the year was over. Soon, through the net of a hundred of different things he could think of to do with the money, Peter could see the hospital. He would see Sara soon.

Entering the hall before the operation theater, Peter sensed that something was wrong. Why was the doctor outside? Shoudn’t he be still operating on Sara? Maybe he had finished, and Sara was back in her room, recovering. Peter ran to the room. The doctor had seen him by this time, and followed him in. Sara wasn’t in her room, and Peter was about to go back to the doctor to ask where she was, when the doctor entered, and closed the door behind him. One look at the doctor’s face told Peter what had happened. The doctor explained everything. Sara was gone, she had not survived the operation. He tried his best to comfort Peter, but Peter just sat there silently, staring blankly. All he could think about was the fountain, where he had prayed for the wrong thing. He could never forgive himself for making the wrong choice.

2063 AD

On October 21, 2063, as the maglev train shot silently through the tunnel connecting the cities on opposite sides of the chain of hills, there was just one single sound that rang out feebly. A tiny pebble, dislodged from its place at the ceiling of the tunnel by a small rodent, had struck the side of the train. The impact at 450 km/hr had created a nasty gash about an inch long on the glossy surface of the train. Immediately, there started a silent movement among the meshwork that lay below the surface of the vehicle. The arteries that were exposed by the gash were now sensing an imbalance between the chemical potential within them and outside. The pasty material inside them started diffusing out of the semi-permeable membrane of the mesh. As it came into contact with air, it slowly hardened. The rate of diffusion got slower, but it was never quite zero. As the train emerged out of the kilometre long tunnel, its surface was smooth and flawless to the human eye. To the computer eye, that is, sensors, the surface was near perfect. There was a recorded log of the outflow of material from the meshwork in the concerned area. A repair schedule had been fixed when the train would reach its terminal station.

After the passengers had dismounted, the train pulled into its hangar. The repair robot moved to the specified coordinates and measured the depression of a few microns at the site of the accident. The robot extended its arm and sprayed a small quantity of the same pasty stuff on to the surface of the train. Now the body was flawless to robot eyes too. The train moved out for another trip.

Though steel was still used for most of the beams and columns of the shell of the mega-city, and also for the supporting rail of the maglev trains, this ’pasty stuff’ had revolutionized the world of materials since the first decade of the 21st century. It was a lightweight material with adequate strength to endure light impacts. Traffic jams and in general road accidents had dropped to zero after all vehicles became controlled by the supercomputer at the traffic department. The only accidents were of the form described at the beginning: the so-called ’natural catastrophes’. Even with these accidents, the self-healing process done by the meshwork below had rendered this material the universal choice.

Close relatives of our material here were extensively used in hospitals, and to a lesser extent, in common households, where the walls were covered with a germ repelling paint. The more affluent customers had a mesh installed directly on the walls before they were painted. This gave their walls a self-healing property too.

After dinner, each member of the family put his/her plate into the dishwasher. As the last plate was in, the machine started its daily task. After the leftover food had been scraped off, the clean plates were dried and elevated out of the machine. A free flowing clear liquid filled the chamber of the dishwasher. This liquid was the new universal solvent. It dissolved almost everything except the inner lining of the dishwasher and the pipes that carried it. As the liquid flushed out of the machine, the chamber was left sparkling clean. The underground pipes from dishwashers, industrial plants, and toilets, among a variety of other places, carried the garbage-saturated fluid to the processing station. Here by the simple principle of fractional distillation, the low-boiling liquid evaporated first, leaving all other residues behind. This waste was divided between biodegradable and non-biodegradable on the basis of its source. The residues were sent for recycling or degradation, or for filling purposes.

Now that dinner was done, I proceeded to my favorite couch. It was a new one. It had in its memory, the comfort settings of all the family members. As I sat down on it, the sensors identified me by my weight and posture of sitting. Signals were sent to the small nodes at the large number of joints just under the soft surface of the chair. These nodes, on receiving the signals, produced an appropriate temperature at the respective joint. Taking all the joints in conjunction the effect produced was wonderful, the shape of the couch changed to suit me. I felt myself sinking in ever so slightly, yet there was a firm support for my lower back. The small thermal expansions and contractions had molded the couch just for me. I decided to buy a bed of the same series.

Just then my sister walked in. She had bought one of those new skin patches. She tapped her right temple lightly and a soft glow of the right side of her face indicated that the patch was active. With a very subtle movement of her eyes, cheek and eyebrows, she switched on the television. This patch was synchronized with most household electronic devices. The signals through movement of eyes, eyebrows and cheeks were simple and easy to learn. Each gesture produced a different state of stress inside the patch. The material of the patch was inlaid with several million microscopic piezoelectric crystals arranged in a network. As the stress was relieved, all the stressed piezoelectric crystals released a unique combined electric signal. This signal, within limits of human error, was interpreted by a small processor hanging behind my sister’s ear, and sent wirelessly to the concerned device as an instruction. Even considering the wide range error for humans, it was still possible for the processor to identify and send several hundred thousand different signals. The TV showed an advertisement for the new skin patch that would allow us to type and control cursors on computers with just the subtle gestures of our faces. Of course, learning to use it was an issue.

Suddenly, I thought of my uncle, who worked at a public Laundromat until it closed down nearly thirty years ago. Not only that particular Laundromat, but all of them. All clothes today are made of material having an obtuse angle of contact with all water-based liquids, grease, dirt and most foodstuffs. Washing clothes was a thing of the past. Just a simple jerk to the cloth was enough to remove any loosely adherent dust.

I slept early that night; I had a presentation the following day. The next morning I was up and ready to present my idea for the new line of cars that our company would start manufacturing. Reaching the office, I headed directly for the conference room where the board members were already waiting. I pressed my thumb lightly on the small pad on the wall beside the door. The green light confirmed recognition and the doors parted to let me in. After the necessary protocol, I drew up the slides in each of the directors’ personal viewing screens from my computer. The new car was to have a wholly different type of propulsion. The spherical wheels of the car would fit into a larger cavity on the underside of the car leaving a small section outside to contact the road. The inside of this cavity and one equator of each wheel would be lined with magnets. With the static magnetic field, the repulsion would balance the weight of the car and leave the required gap between the car body and the road as well as the wheel and the cavity. Superimposed on this field would be another dynamic field, which would cause the wheel to rotate such that the magnets on the wheel remain in a vertical plane. This system would eliminate friction between the car and wheel and provide acceleration. I had had this idea when I was in engineering college, but it had not proved feasible due to the large mass of high strength magnets. With the discovery of the magnetism of carbon, it has now become easy to use this system with lightweight carbon magnets and electromagnets. The directors loved the idea and sanctioned the funds for research in this area.

That evening I had a small party celebrating the success of my presentation with a few relatives and close friends. At night, I sat down to watch a movie. My friends had recommended it as the best watch among the latest releases. It was about a young engineer in the decade of 2000-2010 who had drawn up plans of several of the technologies that common people use today. Truly, today’s science fiction is tomorrow’s science fact.

The Sixth Sense

Humans hardly ever ventured into the colony of mutants, and mutants almost never came into the human world. What little interaction there was was limited to necessary trading of commodities that one needed, and the other possessed. This too was always done through chosen representatives, and the masses never participated in these exchanges, most were unaware of it.

This peaceful divide had existed since time immemorial, though some of the elders spoke of a time when there was only one race on this world. The world was peaceful back then, as it is now. But there are centuries of conflict dividing the two epochs. Conflict to decide who was more powerful, which race was superior, which should be the ruler, and which the ruled. All this started by the desire of a handful of humans, to improve humanity through their experiments. They intended to empower humans with a sixth sense, the power to read thoughts, without speaking a word. Their experiments were very successful, but the converted ones had to pay a terrible price for the new power, they lost speech altogether.

While a large number of humans crossed over to the other side, many chose not to improve themselves. And thus was born the divide, and an age of war followed, until it was understood by both that none was the more powerful, and must coexist, albeit separately, for their cultures had grown very differently in the years of isolation.

Whether this story is true or not, nobody knew, for no records existed. However, it was taken more as a legend to be respected, and a studied separation existed between the two races, which none tried to violate.

The exchanges of materials took place at certain appointed checkpoints. There was always a representative of either side, who took away all that was brought, and provided a list of items required on the next meeting. One such checkpoint was manned by Mali the human, and Wust the mutant.

Both of them had been at this post for over ten years, and had formed quite a friendship, of which neither spoke to another soul, and were afraid to think about themselves. Such a relationship was unheard of, and the fear of rejection by their communities kept it that way.

Mali grew more curious every day. She always asked Wust to describe the special sense that he had. Wust had tried several times, but it was not easy, especially with the total lack of speech. He had tried to show her some books they had on the thought-reading sense, but it was not enough for Mali. The more she read about it, the more she wanted to know, the more she wanted to understand. Finally, that day came when Mali requested Wust to do what he had feared most. She wanted to experience the sixth sense. He immediately signalled, "No! You must not!!"

"Why? Just for once, just for ten minutes."

"There is a divide between our races, and let it be so. One must know when to stop."

Mali was not to be turned down so easily. She knew of the serum which could give a human the sixth sense for ten minutes. Finally Wust relented. It was agreed that on the next exchange, Wust would carry a syringe with the serum, and they would try it out in the evening.

Mali could not contain herself throughout the next month, and her parents noticed the change in her. They did not like her choice of career, and always warned her to stay away from 'that dirty mutant'. Now they were more convinced than ever that it was his evil influence on their daughter. They decided to speak to the border control authorities.

Thirty days passed like thirty years for Mali, but they passed, and the time had come for her to try out the sixth sense. She greeted Wust with more warmth than usual, and Wust replied with less. After the contents of the trains were verified, and they went off in opposite directions, Wust and Mali went into the now desolate checkpoint office. Wust tried to dissuade Mali one last time, but she would hear none of it. She simply rolled up her sleeves, and signaled Wust to begin. Reluctantly, Wust pulled out the syringe, and injected Mali with the serum.

At first Mali did not feel anything, and was wondering if her dear friend had fooled her. One look at Wust told her that he had not fooled her, the serum was real. It came to her slowly as a soft murmuring, which grew into a terrific shriek in a fraction of a second. She was thrown off balance by the sheer loudness. Then there were some strange odors, was it an orange, or a damp smell, or is it some smell that there is no word for? As she staggered to her feet, her skin felt warm and cold at the same time. When she thought of the warmth, it started feeling hotter and hotter, and the moment she thought of the cold, her skin started to freeze. Wust warned her that what she was experiencing now was only her own thoughts, her brain reading its own thoughts, and multiplying the effect several times over.

Mali suddenly realized that Wust had neither spoken a word, nor had he signaled any gestures, yet she understood him perfectly. It was working!! She was thrilled. She wanted to experience it to a higher degree, she wanted to run out into the world, and listen to all the thoughts flying around. Wust restrained her, and urged her to communicate with him through thoughts first. She agreed, and they started talking, if it can be called that. It was wonderful, there were no words spoken, neither were there any words playing in her head. It was just a continuous flow of thought, and a perfect understanding of the others ideas.

Suddenly, Mali realized that the ten minutes were almost up, but there was still so much left to do!! Her thoughts started getting incoherent again, and noise blocked out Wusts thoughts from her. Was it her thoughts that clogged the communication? No. There were unknown voices, strange sensations. There was worry, anxiety, anger, horror. What was happening? As the effect of the serum wore off, the sense diminished to a mere murmur just as it had started, and Mali began to plead Wust for another shot of the serum.

It was only then that Mali realized what all those incoherent voices and sensations were. The border control authorities had arrived to investigate the complaint filed by her parents. They just saw the mutant Wust sitting helplessly on a chair, and the human Mali begging him for another shot of the serum. She was oblivious of the fact that she was being arrested for violating the rules; all she cared about was another shot of the serum. As she was dragged away, she saw Wust being taken away too, but all she cared about now was another shot of the serum.