Read Online Mindwalker by AJ Steiger - Free Book Online

the back of his neck, gaze downcast, as if he’s suddenly fascinated with the crumbs on the tabletop. “I’ve been thinking. I probably shouldn’t have asked you to erase my memories.”
    â€œYou’ve changed your mind?”
    His arms are crossed tightly over his chest. “I know you’ve got rules to follow. I don’t want you to end up getting busted because of me.”
    I hesitate. My whole life, I’ve behaved myself, following the regulations to the letter. This could ruin everything. Do I really want to take this chance? For a boy I barely know?
If you don’t, he’ll die,
whispers a voice in my mind. Of course, it’s not my responsibility to save him. Or is it?
    My fingers tighten on my cup. I know what Dr. Swan would say—he’d tell me that there’s nothing I can do, that some people are beyond help, that I should focus on the people who can still be saved.
    Not Father. Father would have helped Steven. I’m sure of it.
    Then another thought strikes—does Dr. Swan realize that Steven has a Somnazol? He
must.
He’s the director. Whichmeans he
knows
that Steven’s life is in danger, and he still told me to stay away from him.
    There’s a flash of red lightning through my skull. My heart thuds heavy and hard against my ribs. And suddenly, I
want
to defy Dr. Swan. I’m sick of him meddling and hovering over me and telling me what sort of person I should be. More than that, I desperately want to save this boy, this young man whom everyone else has given up on. A heady determination rises within me, burning bright. An electric tingle races through my bloodstream.
    â€œI’ll do it,” I say. “I’ll erase your memory.”
    His jaw drops. His eyes lose focus, and the color drains from his face. It’s not the reaction I expected. “What happened to needing approval?”
    â€œWell.” I clear my throat. “I think I can work around that.”
    As a trainee, I’m only supposed to perform modifications in IFEN’s Immersion Lab, under supervision. But I
could
do it on my own. I have some equipment in my home—a first-generation Mindgate that belonged to Father. For the past four years, it’s been locked in the basement. No one else is aware of it’s existence—not even Greta or Dr. Swan—but as far as I know, it still works.
    Steven looks a little dazed. “You mean, do it without their permission? Could you get in trouble for that?”
    â€œNot if I’m careful.” I smile, wondering if I’ve gone crazy. But it feels good to make a decision on my own—like I’ve been bound up in tight wrappings for years, and now I’m finally unwinding them so I can breathe again. I cup the warm mug of chai between my hands, blow steam from the surface, and sip. “Before we get started, do you have any questions?”
    Steven breathes out slowly, beads of sweat glistening on his forehead. “How do we do this, exactly? Do you just go in and start erasing stuff?”
    â€œIt’s a bit more complicated than that. Before I begin the actual modification, I first need to explore your memories.”
    His fingers dig into his arms. “Why?”
    â€œSo I can locate the specific neural networks associated with the experiences you want to erase. While we’re engaged in those memories, the Mindgate will monitor and record your brain activity, and I’ll map out which circuits hold the information so that I’ll know what to delete later. It will also create a visual simulation, like a video recording, which we can view later if necessary. Of course, that’s a very simplified version of what goes on, but—”
    â€œYou can do that?” he asks. “Turn people’s traumatic memories into home movies?”
    â€œEr, well, I’ll delete them afterward—that’s standard procedure. But yes.” I pause. “Does that