Mindwalker Read Online Free PDF

she opens her mouth, only a faint squeak comes out. She looks up and locks gazes with a girl on the other side of the circle. The girl smiles and nods encouragement.
    Pop.
    I keep going. I move through a saga of misery, memory by memory, until at last, every trace of the trauma is gone, wiped neatly away.
    When I’m finished, I remove my helmet, then Debra’s. She blinks soft, unfocused eyes. A tiny crease appears between her eyebrows. Slowly, she stretches, like someone awakening from a long sleep. She sits up in the reclining chair, then slumps forward,her long black hair falling around her face like a curtain. One pale, trembling hand lifts to touch her forehead. “Where am I?” Her voice is thick, slurred.
    â€œYou’re in a medical facility at IFEN—the Institute for Ethics in Neurotechnology.”
    â€œAm I… hurt?”
    â€œNo. You’ve just had a procedure, but you’re fine.”
    She starts to stand. I place a hand on her shoulder and gently push her back down. The furrow between her eyebrows deepens. “I feel weird.”
    â€œThat’s normal. In a few hours, you’ll feel like yourself again.”
    â€œWhat will that feel like?”
    The question startles me. I don’t know how to respond. “Your mother is in the waiting room,” I say instead. “By now, one of the session monitors has probably notified her. Would you like to go see her?”
    There’s a pause. Then Debra gives a small nod.
    I help her into a wheelchair—standard procedure, since a client is usually groggy and light-headed after the final session—and roll her into the waiting room, which is the same clean white as the Immersion Lab, its edge ringed with black chairs. Debra’s mother stands, clutching her purse, her eyes wide and anxious. “Debra?” Her voice quivers. “Are you all right?”
    â€œI don’t know.” Debra sits in the wheelchair, shoulders hunched, looking as frail as a lily. “I guess.”
    Her mother’s eyes fill with tears. She collapses against Debra and hugs her tight. Debra places a hand gingerly on hermother’s back and looks at me, confusion written on her face. I smile. “Don’t worry. She’s just relieved.”
    Her mother beams at me. “Thank you. Thank you so much.” She draws back, clutching Debra’s hands, blinking her moist brown eyes. “Everything will be fine now. You’ll see.”
    Debra’s mother fusses over her, smoothing her hair and clothes, but Debra barely seems to notice. She keeps staring at me.
    The first few hours after the procedure tend to be foggy in a client’s memory. In a little while, she probably won’t remember this. Or me. But in her eyes, I can read a silent question:
What did you do to me?
    I look away.

Judith pokes her head through the waiting room door. “Lain? Dr. Swan wants to see you.”
    â€œNow?” I glance at Debra and her mother. Normally, Dr. Swan doesn’t summon me while I’m with clients. “Can it wait?”
    â€œI’ll take care of them,” Judith says. “Don’t worry.”
    I walk down the hall, toward the elevator. Everything in IFEN headquarters is silver and white. The entire building was designed to create an atmosphere of cleanliness and serenity. There are small touches—potted tropical flowers, screens showing moving art of landscapes and seascapes—that keep it from feeling too sterile. But the overall impression is one of ruthless competence.
This is a place filled with highly trained people who know what they’re doing,
it seems to say.
We’re in charge, and it’s natural that we’re in charge.
    Dr. Swan’s office is on the top floor, just beneath the solid tip of the pyramid that is IFEN headquarters. The doors of theelevator slide open to reveal another door, a huge one of solid mahogany, with his name and title engraved on a