He takes another step forward, and I retreat again, shifting to put a desk between us.
“Don’t say that. There’s no one like you, Rosie,” he says. “I’ll admit some of the other Forge students are brilliant dreamers, too. They are. They’re much, much better than the dreamers from the pre-morgue. But so far, no one else’s dreams come close to yours. They aren’t just vivid and potent. They’re incredibly versatile, and I’ve yet to pinpoint why.”
“Just my luck, I guess. Where’s Thea?”
“No,” he says, shaking his head. “It’s never just luck.”
He slowly rounds the desk, and I circle away from him.
“I thought at first it mattered that you knew what we were doing,” he goes on. “I’ve tried recruiting dream donors and telling them point blank what we’re doing, but their dreams were doggerel. Worries and lust, food and cars. Useless.”
“I don’t care,” I say. “Tell me where she is.”
“The ironic thing is, you must have walked right by her on your way here.”
I’m confused. “The tunnel? The glass room under the clock tower? The vault? Tell me.”
“You’re getting closer. I’ve come to believe that fear is a key element,” he says. “Or the overcoming of it. Hard to know which. There’s still so much to learn.” He takes another step toward me, lightly joggling the phone. “You know what I’m dying to do? I had no idea how important Thea was the first time I met her, but I’ve done some digging since then. Imagine my delight when I realized she’s a product of the Chimera Centre. Dr. Fallon was holding out on me. Shameful.” His eyes take on a strange glow. “How much of your mind is in Thea? Does she always believe she’s you? Huma wasn’t clear on that point, and my curiosity has been unbearable. Do you suppose she has the same dreams you do?”
“Thea isn’t some ‘product,’” I say. “She wasn’t invented for you to play with.”
He smiles slightly. “That doesn’t mean I should overlook a gift horse,” he says. “You must realize that you and your new friend constitute an amazing breakthrough. She’s living proof that one mind can be seeded into another and become conscious there. Once we perfect the process, we’ll have the key to immortality. Just think, a person could seed his brain into a young body, and when that body gets old, he could seed it into another young body, and so on. Imagine what people would pay to be immortal.”
Is that what he wants, then? Is that his way around his illness?
“It’ll never work,” I say.
“People always say that when ideas are new,” he says. “They’re threatened by the prospect of change, even when it’s good.”
“I’m telling the FBI,” I say. “They’ll shut you down.”
He leans a hand on the nearest desk. “The FBI isn’t in the habit of believing minors who are just out of psychiatric facilities,” he says. “Besides, you won’t report anything. You’re going to do exactly what I tell you.”
“Why would I do that?”
“For Thea’s sake and your family’s,” he says. “Now listen carefully. For the last five months, you have been at a private psychiatric hospital receiving the care you so desperately needed after your last breakdown. I need you to go public and corroborate my story.”
It was just like Linus’s idea.
“I won’t,” I say.
“Think carefully.” He drums a couple of fingers on the desktop. “I’m sorry to say there’s been an uptick in crime in Doli since you left. All kinds of random shootings have been happening back in your beloved boxcar neighborhood. It’s perfectly possible that a little, innocent child could be gunned down just biking home from school.”
“You wouldn’t.”
“On the other hand, it has occurred to me that these dreams might run in families,” he says. “Dubbs could have the same rare kind of dreams that you do. But she’s only your half sister, isn’t she? She could be nothing like you. Hard to know for certain until I try.”
The idea of him messing with Dubbs horrifies me. I clutch the stapler harder. “I’ll never let you hurt her.”
Berg smiles. “Fear’s an interesting thing, isn’t it?” he says. “We feel it more for our families than we do for ourselves. Now you and I are going to learn to trust each other. We’re going to work out something fair to both of us.”
Or I could kill him. That would solve a lot of my problems. I switch the stapler to my left hand.
“Here’s how this works,” he continues. “After you corroborate that you were in a psychiatric hospital, we’ll say that you’ve recovered and you can resume your life. You’ll be free. In public. I assume you’ll want to meet up with Linus and other friends for a normal life, so you’ll need someplace for school or work. Another boarding school isn’t completely out of the question, but I suggest we skip ahead and set you up with a film production company of your own. It’s even conceivable that I could void the contract you signed and let you go back to your parents, though I can’t quite picture you in Doli. Can you?”
Unbelievable. He really expects me to keep silent about everything while he goes on stealing people’s dreams.
“No,” I say.
“No,” he agrees. “The truth is, Rosie, I need you free and living your life for your own sake, and I need to mine you periodically, for mine. My research depends upon you, and I’m willing to pay what I must to ensure your cooperation.”
“You think you’d mine me on a schedule?” I ask, backing up. I keep the stapler raised, hoping it will keep his gaze from my other hand, in my pocket, where I finger the syringes.
“No. The mining times won’t be regular,” he says. “They’ll be random. They could happen anytime. That’s better for the fear.”
“You’re sick.”
“I’m determined, not sick,” Berg says. “I’ll be honest with you. Once the news of Dr. Fallon’s success with Thea gets around, your dreams will fetch an exorbitant price, and there’s no reason you shouldn’t share in the profits. Thea’s parents have already sent out feelers to see if her original seed is available for patches when she needs them.”
I frown, startled. “They want more of my dreams? Do they even know I’m alive?”
“I think that’s going to be a point in your favor.” His expression turns darker. “And now we’d better get going. We don’t want to keep Thea waiting.”
“What do you mean?” In my pocket, I use my thumbnail to push off the cover of a syringe.
“I thought I told you,” he says, his voice lifting. “I’ve been dying to get you two together on the same bench.”
He lunges for me.
I whirl the stapler in a sweeping arc, and as he easily blocks my blow, I pivot and plunge the syringe into his shoulder. He roars and grabs me, but I’m able to shove in the depressor as we crash to the floor. Berg twists me beneath him and pins both my arms.
“What did you put in me?” he asks.
His face is a savage snarl above mine. I shove hard with my knee, but he’s too heavy for me to lever aside. He takes both my wrists in one hand and reaches for the syringe.