and opening them with a sigh.
“Well,” Aiden begins in his casual, yet professional tone, “I’m trying to determine the mechanics of how you read emotions. I suspect this information is critical to the emotional modifier’s encoding. If I can define how your empathesis works, then it’s possible I can rewire the modifier to function on emotions the same way it does with thoughts.” He leans forward, giving George a conspiratorial look. “Honestly, I’m not entirely sure this strategy will be successful. Thoughts and emotions are two different beasts and just because we can program one with the modifier doesn’t mean we can the other. I think this whole project is a long shot, but I also said the same thing about the consciousness screen I built on the GAD-Cs. So don’t be deterred by my skepticism. It keeps me grounded.” Aiden laughs. George doesn’t. All color suddenly drains from his face. Eyes full of dread, George twists his head over his shoulder, a new tension knitting his brow.
Usually my subconscious indicates when the event I’m witnessing is done. Now is not one of those times. I’ve seen enough. I spiral until I’m back in the Panther room.
I don’t make a report at the computer terminal. Instead I tromp past the station and down the hall. I’m not certain of the timing of the event with Aiden and George. All I know is the anger and betrayal I feel is jolting. It wraps around me, inciting a fast-burning rage. I allow this fire to fuel my actions. Right before I round the corner to Aiden’s lab I press my eyelids together and draw in a heavy breath.
George knows I’m there immediately. Now I realize I was the cause of him going pale and turning tense. Aiden, on the other hand, looks rather startled. No one says a word as I stomp across the lab. I stop in front of them, pin my hands on my hips, and briefly center my thoughts. I’m not an activist and I have no platform. But I’m a human being and speak from a place that wants to protect what we were all given when we were born—the right to think and feel for ourselves. The breath within my body has grown hotter, less steady, but I’m not shaking and for that I’m grateful.
“Hey, Roya,” Aiden says, sounding casual but wearing a nervous expression. “What brings the pleasure of your visit?”
I step forward and slam my hand down on the table. He flinches, inches back. George gives a worried stare.
“It’s not enough to manipulate people’s thoughts, now you’re going after their emotions?!”
“No, no, no, no, no,” Aiden says in a rush. “Whatever you’ve heard is wrong. Let me explain.”
“I didn’t hear about your project from anyone.”
Startled, he shakes his head. “Then how do you know—”
“I’m a News Reporter. I know.”
I level my gaze at him. There’s a terror in his eyes that increases moment by moment as he realizes just how much I know and how far gone that makes us.
I turn, pointing at George. “I’m thoroughly shocked you’ve consented to be a part of this! You know better than anyone this is a violation.”
George shamefully looks off to the right, nodding his head. “I know,” he says in a frustrated whisper.
I believe him. He appears genuinely remorseful. In a lower voice I say, “By consenting to be a part of this you’re abusing your power.”
He rubs his hand over his face. “Yeah,” he says, then nothing else. I stare at him for a minute. His eyes are red and full of an inescapable self-loathing. How did he get roped into this?
My accusatory stare turns on Aiden. I feel his treachery scrape at my insides as I bore into his intense blue eyes. “And you,” I scold, backing away, knowing I can’t be next to him or otherwise he’ll instantly try and right his wrong. Although I want to yell at him, insult him, make him feel as heartbroken as I do, I just stare across the five long feet that divide us. Shaking my head I force the sudden ache out with my words. “You are
“Well,” Aiden begins in his casual, yet professional tone, “I’m trying to determine the mechanics of how you read emotions. I suspect this information is critical to the emotional modifier’s encoding. If I can define how your empathesis works, then it’s possible I can rewire the modifier to function on emotions the same way it does with thoughts.” He leans forward, giving George a conspiratorial look. “Honestly, I’m not entirely sure this strategy will be successful. Thoughts and emotions are two different beasts and just because we can program one with the modifier doesn’t mean we can the other. I think this whole project is a long shot, but I also said the same thing about the consciousness screen I built on the GAD-Cs. So don’t be deterred by my skepticism. It keeps me grounded.” Aiden laughs. George doesn’t. All color suddenly drains from his face. Eyes full of dread, George twists his head over his shoulder, a new tension knitting his brow.
Usually my subconscious indicates when the event I’m witnessing is done. Now is not one of those times. I’ve seen enough. I spiral until I’m back in the Panther room.
I don’t make a report at the computer terminal. Instead I tromp past the station and down the hall. I’m not certain of the timing of the event with Aiden and George. All I know is the anger and betrayal I feel is jolting. It wraps around me, inciting a fast-burning rage. I allow this fire to fuel my actions. Right before I round the corner to Aiden’s lab I press my eyelids together and draw in a heavy breath.
George knows I’m there immediately. Now I realize I was the cause of him going pale and turning tense. Aiden, on the other hand, looks rather startled. No one says a word as I stomp across the lab. I stop in front of them, pin my hands on my hips, and briefly center my thoughts. I’m not an activist and I have no platform. But I’m a human being and speak from a place that wants to protect what we were all given when we were born—the right to think and feel for ourselves. The breath within my body has grown hotter, less steady, but I’m not shaking and for that I’m grateful.
“Hey, Roya,” Aiden says, sounding casual but wearing a nervous expression. “What brings the pleasure of your visit?”
I step forward and slam my hand down on the table. He flinches, inches back. George gives a worried stare.
“It’s not enough to manipulate people’s thoughts, now you’re going after their emotions?!”
“No, no, no, no, no,” Aiden says in a rush. “Whatever you’ve heard is wrong. Let me explain.”
“I didn’t hear about your project from anyone.”
Startled, he shakes his head. “Then how do you know—”
“I’m a News Reporter. I know.”
I level my gaze at him. There’s a terror in his eyes that increases moment by moment as he realizes just how much I know and how far gone that makes us.
I turn, pointing at George. “I’m thoroughly shocked you’ve consented to be a part of this! You know better than anyone this is a violation.”
George shamefully looks off to the right, nodding his head. “I know,” he says in a frustrated whisper.
I believe him. He appears genuinely remorseful. In a lower voice I say, “By consenting to be a part of this you’re abusing your power.”
He rubs his hand over his face. “Yeah,” he says, then nothing else. I stare at him for a minute. His eyes are red and full of an inescapable self-loathing. How did he get roped into this?
My accusatory stare turns on Aiden. I feel his treachery scrape at my insides as I bore into his intense blue eyes. “And you,” I scold, backing away, knowing I can’t be next to him or otherwise he’ll instantly try and right his wrong. Although I want to yell at him, insult him, make him feel as heartbroken as I do, I just stare across the five long feet that divide us. Shaking my head I force the sudden ache out with my words. “You are
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