The Clutter Box Page 12

Chapter 12

  Walking into the Dr Thorn’s lab, I saw her talking to Adrian Ward. He’d managed to get here before me. She seemed angry; I hoped it wasn’t with me.

  Adrian Ward looked my way. “We’ll talk about it later,” he said, “I’ll start making arrangements.”

  He walked passed me and out the door.

  Dr Thorn beckoned me over.

  I stormed up to her and said, “You put me in an awkward position. He threatened to have me arrested.”

  She made a calming motion with her hands, the stress showed in her eyes, “Don't listen to him. Telepaths know how to play people. They've built very profitable and largely unnecessary careers out of their ability to dupe others. Everything was above board. He must have sensed your doubts and toyed with you. What's important is, despite obstacles, you got the data for us.”

  “What’s the data for?” I asked.

  “I can’t tell you yet.”

  She could see my irritation, though I said nothing.

  “Go and bring Bruce,” she said, wafting me away with her hand.

  I complied, heading out of the lab. Adrian Ward was stood waiting in the hallway. He stepped towards me smiling.

  He said, “You're angry with me. I can tell. This is about what I said to you. You think I owe you an apology. You think I was too hard on you. Ha, I seem to remember you thanking me. You should try seeing things from my point of view for a change. You overrode my authority. Yes, Dr Thorn technically had permission to access the files, but it's my job - my duty - to make sure nothing confidential gets out. That's the priority.”

  He took a short step towards me as he spoke; I responded by stepping backwards. He continued, “Do you know what it was she wanted access to? Did she tell you? Did you ask? You sneaked in and took it onto yourself to override my wishes. You don't even know why? I meant it when I said you're a good kid, but you are really associating with the wrong people. Did I mislead you? Did I exploit your emotions? A little - maybe. Did you stop and think that maybe you deserved no less. I think, all in all, I was quite kind in the way I dealt with you. You should apologise to me. No? Too Proud?”

  I chose not to respond. I just gave an exaggerated shrug and moved on.

  Bruce was out by the side of the building, He turned to me and said, “Hey.”

  I said, “Thorn wants me to take you to her.”

  He smiled, “That’s normally my job - fetching people.”

  I led him back to the lab. He seemed happy and that lifted my mood.

  Dr Thorn was leaning against a workbench, where I’d left her. She beckoned us over, and with a sigh, said, “Adrian Ward wants an office in the building. He’s not getting us to submit to scans, yet, but that’s not far off.” She rubbed her eyes as though run down by the stresses of the day. “Here’s a mission for you. Go and find a suitable place to put him, away from where he can cause trouble. If possible, find a way to make him give up on his scheme.”

  “This isn’t the type of work I’m trained in,” I said in mild protest.

  “That’s true, but it directly affects the working environment you’re probably going to be in. Consider it a test. I thought you handled the previous task very well.”

  “Why would he want an office here?”

  “He objects to our research. He’s hoping to find an opportunity to undermine it. I’ve read his opinions on telepathy. He doesn’t have a clue. He thinks he senses the disharmony between two brains, and that kind of rubbish. He doesn’t know what he’s talking about.”

  “He’s telepathic, he can describe what he sees better than any of us.”

  She slammed her hand down hard on a workbench and said, “He doesn't have a clue what it is he sees. He doesn’t have a clue about anything.”

  I nodded, taken aback by her ferocity. Bruce said, “We can find room for him in the basement. He won’t like it there.”

  I thought I saw her give a slight smile to that, and I smiled back. Then I followed Bruce back to the lift.

  He pushed the button for the basement and said, “The basement’s not used much, but it’s fully fitted. This is a good chance for you to see around the building.”

  The lift opened with a gloomy corridor leading in two directions. It was littered with boxes and trolleys stacked with metal instruments.

  “What was this place used for?” I asked.

  “Dr Thorn thinks that her research might, ultimately, lead to medical experiments on people. Down that corridor is a very expensive and currently completely unused medical research area. She is in a position to make some extremely high budget demands on the company.”

  We went in the other direction and came to a small empty room.

  Bruce looked about and said, “I think this’ll do.”

  I nodded, as though I had a worthwhile opinion on the matter.

  “What now?” I asked, “Do we need to put furniture in here?”

  He walked back into the corridor, “Yes, that’s right. Not much. We’ll just grab a table and chair from another room. It’ll keep him far away from other people.”

  “Is Dr Thorn worried he’ll scan people?”

  Bruce shrugged. He opened a door to another room. It had some tables and chairs. He grabbed one side of a table and I grabbed the other.

  “Is this just a petty fight over power?”

  Bruce laughed, “Isn’t everything?”

  “But you can sense people's problems. Do you think Adrian Ward will be a problem?”

  He stopped for a moment and scratched his head, “I believe that most bad thoughts are spread telepathically. People are fundamentally good and selfless. Selfish thoughts and beliefs aren't our own. It’s just the little things that get whispered to us. Why should we trust telepaths? They’re just mouthpieces for our intestines“

  “So,” I said, only now remembering the seemingly unhinged conversation we had earlier, “You don't think the telepaths are taking over, you think that their intestines are?”

  “No,” he said. “I think everybody has a telepathic intestine, and they’ve always been in charge, but now they're starting to tell people about it.”

  We squeezed the table into the room and Bruce grabbed a chair for it as well.

  There wasn't much space. The whole basement was starting to make me feel claustrophobic. Narrow corridors, windowless rooms, a constant hum from through the walls.

  “Are we done?” I asked. Bruce had sat down on the chair and seemed lost in thought.

  “Bruce, are we done here?”

  He gave his head a quick shake. Then, looking up at me, he said, “Why did you have to ask me what I think?”

  “I just want to know what I’m getting myself into,” I replied.

  “There’s nothing that you can do. It all just happens. It's the intestines, trapped in good and selfless people, who want to die.” The conversation was turning to his late wife, a subject I wanted to avoid. I must have looked uncomfortable.

  Bruce said, ”You think I'm crazy don't you?”

  I shook my head and said, “If you're right, it seems there's nothing we can do. I'd rather have a worldview with a solution.”

  Bruce stood up and stared into my face, “You do think I'm crazy - and I do too. You see, that's what your intestines are whispering to you. My intestines whisper to me, too. They want me to kill myself, like my wife did.”

  I placed my hand on his shoulder and guided him back down into his chair. He slumped, head in his hands. I crouched awkwardly, wanting to comfort him. He looked up at me and said, “They know what I know and they want to stop me. You see, there is something we can do; they've tipped their hand,” he gripped me by my arm and lent forwards, “We can get the word out that all these thoughts - all these whispers are just our intestines.” He clumped the fingers of his left hand into a point and tapped the side of his head as he spoke, “People will learn not to listen to them, as I've learnt not to listen to mine.”

  I watch his shaking body. “Take it easy,” I said, �
�Just relax here and I’ll be right back.” He smiled up at me. I thought he must have been feeling awkward about how he was coming across. Now I realise it was merely a display of sympathy.

  I rushed to the lift and headed back to the lab. Dr Thorn was stood talking to Duncan.

  They turned to me when I approached. “Bruce is acting quite distressed. I think there’s something really mentally wrong with him.”

  Dr Thorn gave a comforting smile, “Yes, he gets like that sometimes. He’s a very troubled man.”

  I responded, “I think he’s really losing it. We need to get him some help.”

  They looked at eachother, then Thorn turned to me and nodded, “Ok, Ernum, lead the way.”

  As we started to head back to the lift, my phone rang. Answering it I heard Bruce’s voice. “Ernum, I should have said, I wake up some mornings thinking I could live quite happily without my gut. I don’t know if my intestines are trying to fool me and I'm scared, really scared, that one of these days it’s going to work.”

  The line went dead. “Come on,” I said, and began running. Thorn and Duncan starting running after me towards the lift.