Zeta furiously rebooted the sight inhibitor shield for the third time. Subject 226 had once again caught a glimpse of him observing her. Luckily, he had corrected the problem fast enough that the alarm had not sounded. And of course, 226 had no clue that she’d actually seen him – her under-functioning brain didn’t have the capability to sort out the images that had been revealed in the nanosecond of time that his mind had lost control of the sight inhibitor shield.
Zeta was the last member added to the team of mind engineers assigned to this plant and the subjects called Kirath. The team had been ordered by the officials of their government to observe the subjects currently occupying the planet. Project Haleal had been created 10 mils ago in order to discover planets that had suitable environments for Zeta’s people to inhabit. The Project was currently taking place on 100 other planets.
Zeta had arrived 2 mils ago on Kirath. The original group of mind engineers had already created the symbiotic interface between the Meglacognitive Generator and the current inhabitants. Unbeknownst to the subjects of Kirath their thoughts were being held captive by the Generator. Their neuro-pathways had been reprogrammed so that no original thoughts could exist in their brains. All original thoughts were stored in the Generator under the complete control of the mind engineers.
Zeta currently had 12 subjects under his control. Project Haleal had been greeted by almost no resistance from the subjects of this planet. Their brains were one of the most underdeveloped his people had ever encountered. The subjects hadn’t a clue that their lives, as they had once known them, had been stolen. This made these subjects perfect for enslavement to Zeta’s race as Grunts who did all manual labor tasks.
Only one subject had escaped the Meglacognitive Generator’s mental shackle. Subject 333. Alpha himself had tried to ensnare Subject 333’s brain pathways with not an iota of success. It was rumored that Subject 333’s brain was unlike any brain that had been mapped in the history of Zeta’s planet. His brain scans were top secret requiring a security clearance code of 10 of which only 3 members of the government boasted.
Zeta’s mind wandered back to Subject 226 – aka Maggie. About 1 mil ago he had noticed errant spikes in the right hemisphere of her brain. The spikes normally lasted approximately 7 minutes. The activity during those times was off the charts of the Meglacognitive Generator’s recording capabilities. Zeta had adjusted his brainwave monitor to translate the waves into pictures. The results had captivated him. The washes of interwoven colors blending together to create whole cities in Subject 226’s mind was unlike anything he’d experienced.
How could an infantile race that only used 10% of their brain be capable of creating colored masterpieces in their minds?
Three times he’d been so enraptured by her mind cities that he’d overloaded his sight inhibitor shield. So, three times Subject 226 had caught a glimpse of him in the observation room. After each time his visage flickered before her a new brain pathway had been created. While her underdeveloped brain had not connected the dots to form a picture of him yet, each new brain pathway led closer to his exposure.
*********
Maggie agilely dodged the fourth hologram technician in her path to the Air-Tram. Obviously once again the city’s holographic transmitter had been hacked. Each of the holographic emitters were broadcasting the image of two hands clasped together with the words, “You are not alone” written on the forearms. While she had no clue what the image meant it always filled her with hope since it effectively interrupted the city’s humdrum routine. Whoever was responsible for the hack job had sent the hologram technicians into a tizzy which was quite humorous to her.
Skewing her body sideways she skidded between the closing Air-Tram doors smacking into a hunch-backed man fastidiously seat belted into a hoverchair.
“Every day!” he complained. “Every day you run late smacking into me as I mind my own business!” His angry squinted eyes pinioned her with their glare.
“And every day,” She countered. “Every day I apologize because you insist on parking your hoverchair two feet out of sync with the rest of the chairs. If you would park where you are supposed to park we wouldn’t have an issue or this daily argument.” She sighed in resignation. The ornery man was never going to change to suit her. If she didn’t know better she’d think he enjoyed their arguments.
“Hmmmpphhh.” He exhaled rolling his eyes at the scatterbrained young woman. Painfully he attempted to straighten his bent spine to a more comfortable position. Once again he was unsuccessful. He realized that he really should resign himself to the fact that constant pain would always be his daily companion. He knew only one remedy. Closing his eyes he tuned out of the buzz of chatter wafting through the Air-Tram’s bowels.
In his mind he slowly walked towards the over-sized elaborately engraved wooden door. His hand reached forward of its own accord to settle on the brass knob. With a gentle twist the door swung open. He stood in a room with ten foot ceilings, a wall of glass covered the east end of the room stretching from floor to ceiling, and the clear tile floor absorbed the outside light to pirouette across the other walls of the room. The music trapped in his mind begged for release as it always did when he entered this room. Knowing that he dare not open his mouth lest the music explode full force he kept his lips sealed. He only allowed a low hum to generate in his throat which brought the music’s precious notes to vibrate in his mouth. He felt every musical vibration reverberate from his core to his extremities.
His heart suddenly jumped into his throat forcing his eyes to fly open. His eyes darted around for the culprit who had so rudely shoved him. Everybody was strapped into their hoverseat completely absorbed in their own world. Then he saw the briefest glimmer at the edge of the door across from him. Blinking his eyes he stared at the spot again…nothing. He shrugged his shoulders as he reasoned that a flash of light must have caused a reflection to glimmer on the door. His stop was next so he proceeded to gather up his work items in preparation of departure from the Air-Tram.
Until next time blessings and healing