together we would stay in my Mind Dimension for about seven or eight minutes—about half of my fifteen-minute total. Similarly, how deep you go into someone’s memories is half your total time.”
The Reading Depth thing gives me an idea. If what Eugene says is right, then I think I have a better gauge of my ‘power’ based on my Reading of Eugene and Mira’s neighbor, Brad. That sci-fi flick that he and Mira watched at the theater left the big screen at least six months ago—which means that I can spend at least a year in the Quiet.
As blown away as I am by this realization, something prevents me from sharing this information with my new friends. They looked awestruck at the mention of two days. What would they say to a year? And how do I reconcile this and being a half-blood? How powerful is Sara, to give birth to someone like me?
“What’s the maximum power a Reader can have?” I ask instead.
“That’s something even people who are part of the regular Reader society probably don’t know,” Mira says. “And even if they did, they wouldn’t share that information with us.”
“There are legends, though,” Eugene says. “Legends of the Enlightened, who were wise well beyond their years. It was as though they’d led whole extra lifetimes. Of course, some of these stories seem more like mythology than history.”
Myth or not, the stories sound fascinating. Before I get a chance to think about them, however, I’m interrupted by the waiter who brings our check. I insist on paying despite a few feeble complaints from Eugene. It’s part of my thank you to them, I say.
When we exit the restaurant, I tell them, “I wish we could talk for hours on end, but there’s something I have to do now.”
“You could pull us into the Mind Dimension and chat away; this way you wouldn’t be late for your appointment,” Mira says, giving me a sly look.
“Mira.” Eugene sounds chiding again.
She must be breaking another Reader social rule I’m not aware of. Using someone for time, perhaps? It doesn’t matter. I wouldn’t mind doing what she’s asking if I wasn’t dying of curiosity. “It’s not about being late,” I explain apologetically. “It’s about asking my mom some serious questions.”
“Oh, in that case, good luck,” Mira says, her voice sympathetic for the first time.
“Thanks. Do you guys know where I can rent a car around here?”
Going to Staten Island from Brooklyn, or from anywhere for that matter, is best to do by car. There’s a ferry from downtown, but no thanks. That requires taking a bus afterwards. And the ferry is unpleasant enough by itself.
Though Eugene and Mira don’t know about rentals, my trusty phone does. According to it, there’s a rental place a couple of blocks away. Since it’s on the way to their apartment, I get an armed escort to the place—Mira with her gun. I’m grateful for that, as I’m still not a fan of their neighborhood. On our short walk, we talk some more about Readers. Despite Mira’s complaints, Eugene starts telling me about his research.
It sounds like he’s trying to find neural correlates that accompany what Readers do. That discovery might lead to knowing how the process works. He thinks he knows approximately what goes on, all the way up to the Split. After that moment, things get complicated because technology is finicky in the Quiet, and the instruments remaining in the real world don’t register anything—proving that no time passes in the real world after we phase in.
I only half-listen. It all sounds fascinating, but in my mind, I’m already having a conversation with Sara.
When we reach the rental place, I enter both Eugene’s and Mira’s phone numbers into my phone, and they get mine. We say our goodbyes. Eugene shakes my hand enthusiastically. “It was great to meet you, Darren.”
“Likewise,” I say. “It was great meeting you both.”
Mira walks up to me, and gives me a hug and a kiss on the cheek. I stand
The Reading Depth thing gives me an idea. If what Eugene says is right, then I think I have a better gauge of my ‘power’ based on my Reading of Eugene and Mira’s neighbor, Brad. That sci-fi flick that he and Mira watched at the theater left the big screen at least six months ago—which means that I can spend at least a year in the Quiet.
As blown away as I am by this realization, something prevents me from sharing this information with my new friends. They looked awestruck at the mention of two days. What would they say to a year? And how do I reconcile this and being a half-blood? How powerful is Sara, to give birth to someone like me?
“What’s the maximum power a Reader can have?” I ask instead.
“That’s something even people who are part of the regular Reader society probably don’t know,” Mira says. “And even if they did, they wouldn’t share that information with us.”
“There are legends, though,” Eugene says. “Legends of the Enlightened, who were wise well beyond their years. It was as though they’d led whole extra lifetimes. Of course, some of these stories seem more like mythology than history.”
Myth or not, the stories sound fascinating. Before I get a chance to think about them, however, I’m interrupted by the waiter who brings our check. I insist on paying despite a few feeble complaints from Eugene. It’s part of my thank you to them, I say.
When we exit the restaurant, I tell them, “I wish we could talk for hours on end, but there’s something I have to do now.”
“You could pull us into the Mind Dimension and chat away; this way you wouldn’t be late for your appointment,” Mira says, giving me a sly look.
“Mira.” Eugene sounds chiding again.
She must be breaking another Reader social rule I’m not aware of. Using someone for time, perhaps? It doesn’t matter. I wouldn’t mind doing what she’s asking if I wasn’t dying of curiosity. “It’s not about being late,” I explain apologetically. “It’s about asking my mom some serious questions.”
“Oh, in that case, good luck,” Mira says, her voice sympathetic for the first time.
“Thanks. Do you guys know where I can rent a car around here?”
Going to Staten Island from Brooklyn, or from anywhere for that matter, is best to do by car. There’s a ferry from downtown, but no thanks. That requires taking a bus afterwards. And the ferry is unpleasant enough by itself.
Though Eugene and Mira don’t know about rentals, my trusty phone does. According to it, there’s a rental place a couple of blocks away. Since it’s on the way to their apartment, I get an armed escort to the place—Mira with her gun. I’m grateful for that, as I’m still not a fan of their neighborhood. On our short walk, we talk some more about Readers. Despite Mira’s complaints, Eugene starts telling me about his research.
It sounds like he’s trying to find neural correlates that accompany what Readers do. That discovery might lead to knowing how the process works. He thinks he knows approximately what goes on, all the way up to the Split. After that moment, things get complicated because technology is finicky in the Quiet, and the instruments remaining in the real world don’t register anything—proving that no time passes in the real world after we phase in.
I only half-listen. It all sounds fascinating, but in my mind, I’m already having a conversation with Sara.
When we reach the rental place, I enter both Eugene’s and Mira’s phone numbers into my phone, and they get mine. We say our goodbyes. Eugene shakes my hand enthusiastically. “It was great to meet you, Darren.”
“Likewise,” I say. “It was great meeting you both.”
Mira walks up to me, and gives me a hug and a kiss on the cheek. I stand
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