The Clutter Box Read online

  Chapter 9

  As I entered the psi-clinic’s foyer, the receptionist looked in my direction and shuffled from around the desk. He marched across the floor and met me halfway.

  He had new shoes.

  “I’m afraid we can’t do anything for you, right now, Mr Gustabler.”

  I stared sternly into his eyes. “Why was I prevented from entering? What’s going on?”

  “I don’t know what’s going on,” he said. I thought he looked half defeated, “But I have clear instructions that you're not to poke around. Whatever it is you’re up to, it’s best you forget about it. Stick to doing what you’re paid for.”

  He stood like a wall blocking my path. A resolute expression stamped on his face.

  I said, “I’m going to get a coffee.”

  “Ok,” he said, gesturing his permission for me to take the side doorway to the cafeteria. His eyes never leaving me. I walked up to the counter, well aware I was being watched through the doorway. This was hopeless. I’d need to get past him to get to the research area of the building. If I only had a distraction.

  I ordered a cup of tea and took it to a table by the side; clear of the receptionists field of view. I observed a cleaner push a trolley into the toilets. Far fetched notions, of me hiding in the cleaning trolley, began to form in my mind. Of course, the trolley wouldn’t have concealed me, and my weight would have give away my presence, as the cleaner huffed and puffed, trying to push me along.

  I sipped my tea. The cafeteria was fairly empty, right now. A women in a lab coat sat reading at the far end of the room, and a single staff member manned the counter.

  I could sneak past wearing a disguise: Lab coat, glasses, fake beard. Again I found my mind turning to fantasy, short of a reasonable solution.

  If only it could be that easy. My tea was almost gone. Was it time to admit defeat? Perhaps Tethra Collins could get me through. She’d want to know why. That was better than my plan of running though like a mischievous child and having the receptionist chasing after me.

  If I did run past him would he call the guards? What authority did he have to stop me? I had sufficient security clearance. A feeling of outrage started to form inside me. What right did that man have to block my way? Dr Thorn warned me not to take any nonsense and she was quite right.

  Gulping the last of my tea, I stood up and marched back to the foyer.

  The receptionist was stood waiting for me. Blocking my path as before.

  “Move it!” I snapped, I was impressed by the strong tone of irritation in my voice, “I have full clearance to go this way. If you disagree call the guards.”

  He didn’t move, he just shook his head. I sighed and barged past, continuing with my march.

  I walked through the waiting room and down a corridor. Nobody followed me.

  I passed a nurse and asked where I could find a vacant lab. She said I could book one from reception. I told her I just needed to log onto a terminal for a moment. She smiled and walked me down another corridor, opening a door into a small consultation room. There was a computer terminal on a desk, by the side. I thanked her and she left, closing the door behind her.

  As I logging on to the terminal, I pulled the crumpled request forms from out of my pocket. I scanned my eyes over the contents, picking out the requested data files, then began typing them into the terminal. First one, ‘ Project Stress Resistance’ - found it.

  At that point the door to the room swung violently open, causing me to spin around - heart racing. A short man in a pale grey suit, stood in the doorway. He wore cream and black leather shoes. Behind him stood a security guard.

  I wasn’t going to be intimidated. At this point I’d become quite satisfied with my own righteousness.

  “Hello there, you’re in the wrong building, I think, yes? Are you here for a reading, maybe?” He looks at a clipboard. “We had you twice already in the last couple of days, didn’t we, yes?”

  “I’m doing what I’m authorised to do,” I barked.

  “Humm.” He walked forward, shaking his head. A guard followed behind him. The man waved his hand forwards, saying, “Guard, escort him to the back office.”

  That sent a sudden shock to my system. Was I sure how much authority I had? Was I in real trouble?

  “What’s going on? I didn't do anything,” I protested.

  The man whipped the request form from my hand and the guard led me by the arm. This couldn’t be happening. I was being maneuvered down the corridor. The man following close behind, his face set in a grin.

  They lead me through a door into a small room which was clearly being used for storage. It contained a desk, a single chair and a number of large cardboard boxes.

  The short man told me to take a seat. My legs were shaking. My nervousness must have been obvious.

  He perched himself on a box facing me and silently examined the request form.

  “Could you wait outside for now?” he told the guard.

  “I have full authority to obtain that data.” I said referring to the form.

  The guard shut the door behind him as he left.

  The man sat silently for a moment, still examining the form, slowly shaking his head and tutting. It was an act, but I didn’t feel like playing his game. Not that it made a difference. No words came to my mouth. I waited silently until he spoke.

  “Where, on this request form, does it grant you authority to obtain restrictive data?”

  “I have clearance. I logged in under my own account.”

  “That clearance comes with a degree of trust, yes? You had no right to try to take - no, steal that data from these premises.”

  “Take that up with Dr Thorn.”

  “Yes - Thorn. What’s she up to now?”

  There was another silence, rather than theatrics, he seemed deep in thought.

  “Forgive me. My name is Adrian Ward. I'm a telepath here at Granny Labs. I can trust you with that right? I think I can because I know you. I know, full well, that you're a good person.”

  “You’ve been scanning me?”

  “No.” He shook his head. “I can't help picking up odd things. But you, Ernum, really aren’t cut out for playing the spy, are you?”

  “So, what now?”

  “Now? Well, that is a good question. Perhaps we should go and get a cup of coffee.”

  He pushed himself up and headed to the door, waving for me to follow.

  “I don't think there will be anything to worry about,” he said to the guard. The guard nodded and left. Ward led me towards the cafeteria. I wasn’t thirsty - I’d just had a cup of tea - but I didn’t feel like objecting.

  He ordered a mocha coffee, I had another tea. We sat at a table, at the far end, by a window.

  “So, Thorn is looking to get you transferred to her building, maybe. Crafty of her, yes?”

  I looked blankly at him - content for him to answer his own questions.

  “It didn't occur to you that this might have all been a test? That they were just trying to see if you were crazy enough to go along with it, no?”

  “No it hadn't occurred to me. Is it?” I asked.

  He shook his head and smiled.

  "No, Ernum, it's politics, and they've dropped you in it. Look don't you worry about all this. You just let me know everything that you know."

  “She told me she had clearance for the files.”

  “She does but we're delaying access due to the confidential nature of the content. Now, this is no excuse for you to attempt to break into our systems. That's a criminal offence. A serious one.”

  “I never actually broke any laws.”

  “But you were going to,” he said, gently jabbing his finger in my direction, “You need to tell me what could have possibly persuaded you to do something like that.”

  Only now did I think of my telepaths initials - A.W. I felt certain it was him - Adrian Ward.

  “If you’re telepathic why don't you scan me for the answers?” I ask.

&nb
sp; “We'd still need your consent for any in depth scan, but I can't help knowing if you lie to me.”

  “Tell me, why does a telepathic scan feel like microwaves?”

  “Oh, you mean this?”

  He pulled out a small metal pen like object and waved it towards my face. The familiar blast of warmth spread across my skin.

  “The TCC requires that professional telepaths use them whilst scanning. It could be taken as a minor deception or an indicator. It makes our clients more trusting. Gives them a clear signal when they are, or aren’t, being scanned.”

  “So it’s to fool people into thinking they can tell when you're scanning them?”

  He shrugged.

  “In fact, because of these rules, we can't do any kind of in depth scan without people knowing. That would breach the code. Thorn knows all this. Did she tell you anything else?”

  She says the scans are a lie.

  "Ha, she doesn't believe that for a minute. There's some debate, even amongst telepaths, about what we actually pick up and its accuracy, but the science is indisputable. Would you like proof, yes? Would you like me to reveal some dark secrets about you?"

  “Was it you who told me that I drove my mother away?”

  He pulled a more somber expression. “Yes, that was me. I reassure you, I wouldn't have made a diagnosis like that if I wasn't absolutely sure of myself. I'm a strong believer in being blunt. She wasn't a good mother and you shouldn't blame yourself. You knew you deserved a better parent even as a child, and at eight years old you did everything you could to drive her away. Your father never did find you a new mother, did he?

  I felt in control of my emotions but still a stray tear ran down my face. I wiped it away with a gesture.

  “Go back to Thorn,” he said, "I'll get the files she requested sent over to her.”

  “What about the confidential information in them?”

  “Oh, now you care about breaching confidence. Only a few moments ago you were planning to grant people you barely know access to confidential data. I hope you appreciate what I'm doing for you, yes?”

  I did. In a sense, telepaths were all sociopaths, but their telepathic knowledge of people’s inner minds more than made up for their inability to form an imaginary picture of the inner mind. What purpose does imagination have for people who have it all mapped out. People often spoke of the selfless acts carried out by telepaths. The process was bound to distort any sense of self interest.

  He lead me to the front door.

  “How long until the data gets transferred?”

  “I’ll get on it right away, but it’ll take at least an hour. You can wait around until it’s done, if you like.”

  “I’ll wait in the car,” I said, “My phone’s in the car.”