Read Online Mirrors by Ted Dekker - Free Book Online Page A

ventilators. Something like a dentist’s chair sat in the corner behind a state-of-the-art operating table, which was surrounded by clusters of light stands.
    A door on the room’s far side suddenly swung open and Fisher entered, pushing another wheelchair.
    At first the operating table blocked Austin’s view. He couldn’t see who was in the wheelchair, only that it wasn’t empty. But when Fisher rounded the operating table in three long strides, the wheelchair came to a halt directly in front of him, six feet away. The solitary figure sat motionless, hands cupped almost prayerfully in his lap.
    Jacob.
    The boy’s pale face was neither surprised nor perturbed. His slight frame and slumped shoulders made him look weak. Jacob was oblivious to the world around him.
    Fisher engaged the wheel brake and walked toward a cabinet across the room.
    Austin tried to steady his trembling hands, but they weren’t obeying so well. The air conditioner hissed too loudly in the cavernous room.
    Fisher returned, a pair of blue surgical gloves dangling from his hand. He stopped and gazed down at Austin.
    “You should know that no patient has ever escaped from the facility. Like you, several have tried, of course.”
    Austin didn’t reply.
    “I can assure you, you won’t succeed. Still, I appreciate your initiative. It’s”—he paused—“enlightening.”
    Fisher considered him for a moment, stone cold, void of expression. “Curious, isn’t it? At first glance, you appear complicated. Not all people do, so please take that as a compliment. You relish the fact that people see you as complex. It’s your mask. It’s what makes you different from those around you, but the truth is you’re really quite simple.”
    “You don’t know me.”
    “Oh? I think I can read you like a book, Scott. It’s not that hard, really. Despite what most people believe, hiding behind our own skin is impossible. Every day, we betray ourselves in a thousand ways without realizing it. The true self always claws its way to the ugly surface.”
    He shoved his chin at Austin and glanced at his hands.
    “Take your mannerisms, for instance. Even a moderately observant person could deduce that yours is an obsessive mind, always thinking, thinking, thinking. That nervous tick you have with your hands is a manifestation of such angst.”
    Austin realized he had been mindlessly touching his fingertips. He stopped abruptly and balled his hand into a fist.
    Fisher continued. “If you have an obsessive mind, you also probably suffer from a bit of insomnia, the bane of a brain that won’t shut off. I suspect yours is quite severe. I can only imagine how many nights you’ve suffered in an endless loop of data, questions, and reasoning as you stare at your ceiling in the dark, lost in thought.” He paused. “How am I doing so far?”
    Austin shifted his weight in the seat.
    “You’re an avid reader, I presume,” Fisher said, pacing now, eyes on the walls as if only half interested. “Most obsessive thinkers are. You likely devour a wide variety of subjects, doggedly in search of pieces to the puzzle in your mind that never quite seems to come together. That driven nature is what makes you special, but it’s also what drives you from others. And that’s lonely for you, isn’t it? Have many friends?”
    “Enough.”
    “And yet you and I both know you’d choose a book over a friend any day.”
    Austin sat quietly. Heat spread across his neck.
    “So you could say that, yes, I do know you. I would guess that you have a deeply rooted addiction to your mind. You find your identity in your intellect. Knowledge is your drug and without it you’re afraid you’ll die. At the very least, your life would feel meaningless . ”
    “An arrogant diagnosis informed by only a few observations,” Austin said.
    “Is it?”
    “Everyone thinks. It’s what humans do. Our ability to think separates us from the animals. Everyone pursues knowledge.”
    “A romantic