Read Online Mind of My Mind by Octavia E. Butler - Free Book Online
Authors: Octavia E. Butler
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nothing.
"Stay at least until tomorrow. We've got to talk." He reinforced the request with a
subtle mental command. She had no telepathic ability at all. She would not be
consciously aware of the command, but she would respond to it. She would stay until the
next day, as he had asked, and she would think her staying was her own decision. He
promised himself that he would not coerce her further. Already it was getting too easy to
treat her like just another pet.
She drew a deep breath. "I don't know what good it will do," she said. "But yes, I'll
stay that long." She turned to go out of the room and ran into Doro. He caught her as she
was stumbling blindly around him, and held her.
Doro looked at Mary, who had finally straightened herself out on the bed. She looked
back at him wearily.
"Good luck," he said quietly.
She continued to watch him, not responding at all.
He turned and left with Vivian, still holding her as she cried.
Karl looked down at Mary.
She continued to stare after Doro and Vivian. She spoke softly. "Why is it Doro is
always so kind to people after he messes up their lives?"
Karl took a tissue from the box on her night table and wiped her face. It was wet with
perspiration.
She gave him a tired half smile. "You being 'kind' to me, man?"
"That wasn't my word," said Karl.
"No?"
"Look," he said, "you know how it's going to be from now on. One bad experience
after another. Why don't you use this time to rest?"
"When it's over, if I'm still alive, I'll rest." And then explosively, "Shit!"
He felt her caught up in someone else's fear, stark terror. Then he was caught too. He
was too close to her again.
For a moment, he let the alien terror roll over him, engulf him. He broke into an icy
sweat. Abruptly he was elsewhere—standing outside in the back yard of a house built
near the edge of one of the canyons. Coming up the slope from the canyon was the
longest, thickest snake he had ever seen. It was coming toward him. He couldn't move.
He was terrified of snakes. Abruptly he turned to run. He caught his foot on a lawn
sprinkler, fell screaming, his body twisting, thrashing. He felt his own leg snap as he hit
the ground. But the break registered less on him than the snake. And the snake was coming closer.
Karl had had enough. He drew back, screened out the man's terror. At that instant,
Mary screamed.
As Karl watched, she turned on her side, curling up again, pressing her face into the
pillow so that the sounds she made were muffled.
He watched her mentally as well, or watched the ophidiophobe whose mind held her.
He thought he understood something now. Something he had wondered about. He knew
how Mary's expanding talent, acting without control, was opening one pathway after
another to other people's raw emotions. And now he realized that when he let himself be
caught up in those emotions, he was standing in the middle of an open pathway. He was
shielding her from the infant fumbling of her own ability by accepting the consequences
of that fumbling himself. That was why Doro had told him to back off. When he was too
close to Mary, he was helping her. He was preventing her from going through the
suffering that was normal for a person in transition. And since the suffering was normal,
perhaps it was in some way necessary. Perhaps an active could not mature without it.
Perhaps that was why Doro had warned him to help Mary only when she could no longer
help herself.
"Karl?"
He looked at her, realizing that he had let his attention wander. He didn't know what
had finally happened to the frightened man. He didn't care.
"What did you do?" she asked. "I could feel myself getting caught up in something
else. Then for a while it was gone."
He told her what he had learned, and what he had guessed. "So at least now I know
how to help you," he finished. "That gives you a
"Stay at least until tomorrow. We've got to talk." He reinforced the request with a
subtle mental command. She had no telepathic ability at all. She would not be
consciously aware of the command, but she would respond to it. She would stay until the
next day, as he had asked, and she would think her staying was her own decision. He
promised himself that he would not coerce her further. Already it was getting too easy to
treat her like just another pet.
She drew a deep breath. "I don't know what good it will do," she said. "But yes, I'll
stay that long." She turned to go out of the room and ran into Doro. He caught her as she
was stumbling blindly around him, and held her.
Doro looked at Mary, who had finally straightened herself out on the bed. She looked
back at him wearily.
"Good luck," he said quietly.
She continued to watch him, not responding at all.
He turned and left with Vivian, still holding her as she cried.
Karl looked down at Mary.
She continued to stare after Doro and Vivian. She spoke softly. "Why is it Doro is
always so kind to people after he messes up their lives?"
Karl took a tissue from the box on her night table and wiped her face. It was wet with
perspiration.
She gave him a tired half smile. "You being 'kind' to me, man?"
"That wasn't my word," said Karl.
"No?"
"Look," he said, "you know how it's going to be from now on. One bad experience
after another. Why don't you use this time to rest?"
"When it's over, if I'm still alive, I'll rest." And then explosively, "Shit!"
He felt her caught up in someone else's fear, stark terror. Then he was caught too. He
was too close to her again.
For a moment, he let the alien terror roll over him, engulf him. He broke into an icy
sweat. Abruptly he was elsewhere—standing outside in the back yard of a house built
near the edge of one of the canyons. Coming up the slope from the canyon was the
longest, thickest snake he had ever seen. It was coming toward him. He couldn't move.
He was terrified of snakes. Abruptly he turned to run. He caught his foot on a lawn
sprinkler, fell screaming, his body twisting, thrashing. He felt his own leg snap as he hit
the ground. But the break registered less on him than the snake. And the snake was coming closer.
Karl had had enough. He drew back, screened out the man's terror. At that instant,
Mary screamed.
As Karl watched, she turned on her side, curling up again, pressing her face into the
pillow so that the sounds she made were muffled.
He watched her mentally as well, or watched the ophidiophobe whose mind held her.
He thought he understood something now. Something he had wondered about. He knew
how Mary's expanding talent, acting without control, was opening one pathway after
another to other people's raw emotions. And now he realized that when he let himself be
caught up in those emotions, he was standing in the middle of an open pathway. He was
shielding her from the infant fumbling of her own ability by accepting the consequences
of that fumbling himself. That was why Doro had told him to back off. When he was too
close to Mary, he was helping her. He was preventing her from going through the
suffering that was normal for a person in transition. And since the suffering was normal,
perhaps it was in some way necessary. Perhaps an active could not mature without it.
Perhaps that was why Doro had warned him to help Mary only when she could no longer
help herself.
"Karl?"
He looked at her, realizing that he had let his attention wander. He didn't know what
had finally happened to the frightened man. He didn't care.
"What did you do?" she asked. "I could feel myself getting caught up in something
else. Then for a while it was gone."
He told her what he had learned, and what he had guessed. "So at least now I know
how to help you," he finished. "That gives you a
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