14: Moving On

You’re only as young as the last time you changed your mind.

Timothy Leahry

“Theo?” another Wintervale professor said, stopping him on his way to his office as he entered the Psychology Department building. “We’d thought we’d lost you.”

“Nah, I just had to go into hiding temporarily, though I’m sure you’ve seen the news about it.”

“You were involved? We thought it was some major international spy ring.”

“Well, not with their ultimate unraveling, but they were chasing me. So, to prevent being slaughtered, I decided the wisest action was lying low for a while.”

“How about the warehouse shooting?” he pressed, as several others, equally curious at his appearance, congregated around them.

“No, I’ve only gone hunting twice. I understand the basics, but little else. I wouldn’t last long in those situations. But, once they were exposed and things quieted down, I figured it was safe to return.”

“The police were looking for you in relation to Dr. Hughes’ killing,” a school administrator acknowledged, as the group grew. “Was your case related to his?”

“Very much so. He ... admitted something he shouldn’t have known, so once he was killed, I took off, assuming he’d implicated me too.”

“I never understood from the story. What were they so afraid of?” a student asked.

“The quasi-government agency was covered under the Secrets Act and could access anything the other security agencies, local law enforcement and federal agents uncovered. So, talking to the cops was like signing my death certificate. I didn’t have much of a choice. But like most secret police, they abhor the limelight.”

“That must have been scary?” a young woman said, her eyes widening.

“It definitely was. My family was forced into hiding and there was at least one fatality related to my involvement.”

“Yet you escaped?”

“Only with a lot of help from friends and my awareness of how security officials gather data on U.S. citizens. Thus, I was able to avoid detection for some time.”

“Now that’s something you should teach!” the professor encouraged, to general nods all around.

“Unfortunately, it’s not my field, and would merely antagonize many and incur the wrath of those same industries.”

“Will you be restarting your classes?”

“All my lectures and my dream clinic were one-time events, so they haven’t been rescheduled since I wasn’t here. The sleep clinics will resume, though at a faster pace to make up for lost time.”

“Given most students tight schedules, it might be difficult to arrange.”

“Yes, it’ll likely reduce participation. The entire study may be invalidated if too many drop out, as it was already an incredibly small sample size. However, we can’t determine that until we see how it unfolds. But we’ll post a notice detailing any changes, so anyone can list their difficulties so we can modify the schedule.”

“Did you...”

“Look, I appreciate your curiosity, but I’ve got a lot of work to complete. As I said, we’ll get the news out, but I plenty to do. If you’re interested, catch me in the campus pub on Friday evenings where I’ll describe what I experienced for a brew. Though for a whiskey, I’ll likely regale everyone with details I don’t know!”

“Professor Müller?” Someone in an off-the-rack suit inquired as they flashed their badges. “I’m detective Simmons. We’d like to question you about your involvement in the recent Westport shootings.”

“FBI, huh? I’m not sure I can help. While I was hiding nearby, and was thankful they were stopped, I wasn’t involved.”

“Given your links to Dr. Hughes and your sudden disappearance after his death, the local police were already searching for you. So, you’re our most obvious link to those killed.”

“You mean the assassins who finally paid for their prolonged, officially-sanctioned crime spree? Again, while I directly benefitted from their deaths, I was utterly unaware of it.”

The two detectives frowned, Simmons scribbling in his notebook. “Do you have any idea who might have been?”

The other detective explained. “The only unauthorized personnel at the scene were an EMS crew and a supposed critically-injured individual. Though they never arrived at the hospital they claimed to going to, and the ambulance was reported stolen and later abandoned.”

“Knowing who was involved, I’d guess it was the same people, trying once more to cover their crimes. They obviously had deep pockets and broad authority to intercept and interfere with secure communications and police responses. If so, they’d definitely have wiped everything down. But ... I was contacted by someone familiar with the organization.”

Both men’s eye’s widened as they leaned in, notebooks poised and ready.

“Go on.”

“There’s not much to say. Someone called me out of the blue, which was disconcerting, since no one knew where I was hiding. Once we talked, I left the location immediately, considering it compromised, which probably saved my life.”

“What did they say?”

“That they were worked for the same agency, but had parted ways and were interested in their actions.

“Figuring I could use any help I could get, I told them what I could, while packing my bags, assuming they were actively tracking my location. We later discovered one of my prepaid phones for communicating with my family was missing. So, it appears they’d tracked our movements for some time.”

“Can you describe the individual, or the exchange they called from?”

“All I can relate was their voice, as she was an older female. But as you’d expect, the caller ID showed my own number—which was equally disturbing, setting off alarms over their intent.”

“Might the woman have been...” the officer checked his notes, “one Alice Milke?”

“Wow. That’s certainly specific. But no, I would’ve recognized her voice having spoken to her repeatedly at my clinic. Why do you suspect she’s involved?”

“She disappeared around the same time you did, and was in the same sleep study as you and Dr. Hughes. It’s a natural assumption, following the commonalities.”

“No, the voice was unfamiliar and it didn’t sound digitally altered. Though with their capabilities, who’d know? Have you questioned her?”

“No, she’s still unaccounted for.”

Theo frowned, glancing around the empty room. “Given who we’re discussing, I’d assume she’s deceased. Is there anything else?”

“Not at the moment, but we’re keeping an eye on you, as you’re the only known link between their deaths. Don’t leave the jurisdiction until we resolve this.”

“Look, if I hear any indication someone is after me, you’ll never find me. These people are frighteningly efficient killers. Just speaking to you is enough to implicate me again.” Theo paused. “Have you checked their records?”

“Sadly, no. There are too many official agencies competing for access to the recovered documents. It will likely be some time before we’ll see anything, and then it’ll be heavily redacted.”

“Strange, the Times seems to have an extensive amount of information about them. Maybe you should hire a few reporters to do your investigations for you?”

“Thanks. If it helps, with the recent revelations, the department is completely revising how we record and transmit our personal records. But we’ll be in touch.”

“Trust me, it’s not encouraging in the least, as you’ve yet to secure anything I say.”

“Are you sure this is wise?” Alli asked, as they helped collect dry wood for the barrel fire Theo was preparing.

“Maybe not, recognizing how much it altered my perceptions, but I need to ensure it’s not accessible to anyone else. And given our history with it, I figured you’d appreciate knowing it’s safely out of reach.”

“Still,” Wendy protested. “You learned a lot using it, including how to survive and bring the ALLID down.”

“It’s not whether it’s useful, as much as who it might benefit in the future.” Theo paused to light the kindling, stepping back before the rapidly expanding fire grew too intense. “Accepting the abusive potential of this substance, I’d rather not tempt anyone, especially once I release my paper on its properties and capabilities. I prefer washing my hands of the entire thing, once and for all.”

“So, does this mean we’ll all be able to do what you did, after breathing all these fumes?” Wendy asked.

“Possibly, but it’s my last avenue of research. The only other person to try it never achieved what I did. So, being familiar with my techniques, I’m curious whether you can duplicate my results. Personally, I doubt it though, as nothing about my experiences were typical, according to Tom. But I’d rather document what I learned once there’s no chance anybody else can access it. Besides, there wasn’t enough left to last long or do much damage, with the winds and likely wide-dispersal pattern.

“Since my inclinations haven’t lessened, I’ll keep working with Dr. Phisher, though we’re in no hurry to go any further yet.” She stepped back, combing her short hair with her hand.

“Good, ‘cause a beard will match the new haircut, perfecting the look.”

“Amy says that’ll take time, but we’re both looking forward to it—though Lai’s likely to complain, once it comes in.”

“Personally, I’m not sure I’ll ever adapt to your new look,” Alli admitted, sniffing and wiping her eyes. “You look great, but you’ll always be my little girl.”

“Well,” Theo continued, curtailing the argument sure to follow, “we’re still unsure how long the effects might persist. Though once you clear your mind and remain focused on what’s important, the perception influences should rapidly fade.”

“My desires haven’t lessened. I still want to switch, but with Lai by my side, it’s not as pressing I actively pursue it.”

“Are you seeing anything?” Alli asked, studying his expression as they watched the burning fire.

“Not yet, but tell me if either of you do. It’ll give me a better idea of its true psychedelic strength and potential. If I’m the only one capable of what I’ve accomplished with it, it lessens the risk. But there are many who’d be perfectly happy merely observing their enemy’s deepest desires.”

“Trust me,” Alli promised, “if it works, I’ll be visiting your dream tonight. But since we’re in an actual physical romantic relationship, I won’t be nearly as overbearing.”

“Not me,” Wendy declared. “Lai and I discussed it, and I’m eager to test drive my dreamy new dick, with her support, of course.”

“Just be careful,” Alli warned. “You saw how swiftly these things spiral out of control.” She shivered. “Though just imagining it sends chills up my spine. My precious baby, out hunting pussy with his girlfriend!” That’s an image I’ll likely never forget!”

Despite his earlier claims, Theo found himself facing Tom’s glimmering visage a few days later. He’d had normal dreams since, as the effects of the hallucinogen gradually wore off, but they were nothing like this. “You’re feeling pretty confident, having eventually stumbling over God’s original message,” he accused, glaring at Theo.

Theo shook his head, taking in the entire out-of-focus scene. “I realize you’re not real, so what’s this about?” Theo demanded. Rather than answering, Tom continued, never responding to his question.

“But you’ve got to ask yourself, why did God pick you, out of everyone, for this particular task?”

Suspecting he’d only repeat it once, Theo listened carefully, but considered the obscure background. Unlike his recent dreams, there wasn’t enough detail or contrast to tell whether his image was bluish or simply fuzzy. And nothing was detailed, though Theo’s hand was. The hairs on the back of his hard were distinct, as were the callouses from helping Wendy prepare her garden.

“What is it about dreams,” Tom continued, pausing between each sentence, “which makes you any different than anyone else?”

Waking immediately, Theo sat up, sputtering and glancing around.

Partially opening one weary eye, Alli yawned, stretching her arms out. “More unexpected fantasy voyages from our burning party?”

“No, those are gone forever, and good riddance,” he stated, blinking rapidly to clear his vision. “I just had the weirdest non-hallucinogenic dream.”

“All yours are weird,” Alli insisted. “What’s different about this one?”

“Despite being a normal, everyday one, Tom asked why I was given this task? Why it was so vital that I’m the only one capable of carrying it out?”

She sat up, her forehead wrinkling as she struggled to wake, appreciating his fears. “What do you think it means?”

“Well, I never dreamed while taking the drug, nor had any nocturnal journeys without them. And the typical dream image of Tom contrasted with my overly detailed appearance. So, I’m guessing this is somehow significant.” He paused, considering it, waiting a moment before continuing.

“Actually, I think God really spoke to me this time. The same way he warned me I was heading the wrong way by waving my continual erections in my face. It was clear I was completely conscious, yet wasn’t controlling it.”

“Okay, assuming your perceptions haven’t changed, what do you make of it?”

“It hasn’t,” he assured her. “At least not much, but ... I don’t know. I’m still processing it, but he had a point. God never selected me because I’m familiar with conscious dreaming, there are plenty who practice it, including everyone in our extended family.” He paused again, concentrating intensely. “The only thing I can think of, it’s the nature of dreams.

“While I feared unduly influencing those in nightly journeys, I suspect why everybody agrees so readily is due to the dreams themselves. Even when they’re conscious, no one is skeptical in one. Just like with my delusions, you deal with what happens, as it does, without fretting over the implications.”

“So, how does that relate to you specifically?” she prodded, no longer humoring him, fascinated by the discussion.

“I doubt Tom’s inquiry was the message. Instead, I suspect God’s finally putting things in perspective for me. Once more, I was so blinded by my own hubris, and couldn’t see what was staring me in the face. No one questions what happens, or what’s said, in a dream. So, my overanalyzing everything wasn’t helpful.

“So, how I got the information doesn’t matter. What does, is the medium: everyone’s dreams. There’s still some vital key there I haven’t uncovered. Something which will reveal what’s happening, and what I should do going forward.”

“If you figure it out,” she warned, rolling over, “just tell me, rather than posing impossible riddles when I first wake up. “Now, this will surely haunt my dreams, as I’ll worry over your running off and getting in trouble again!”