The Thought Pushers

Chapter 2

2

“Haim, it’s been so good having you around,” Orit says to us in English. We take a sip of the tea she’s prepared for us, trying not to burn our tongue, and reflect on how hanging out with our sister has been a highlight of the year.

“Now it’s your turn,” we say. “You have to visit me and Grandma in Israel.”

Orit hesitates before she nods. Despite her agreement, we know she’s not likely to come. We’re not actually that upset about it; we’re usually in too much danger to have little Orit around. But then again, we think she really ought to visit Israel at some point. Maybe she could find a husband there. Or finally learn a few words in Hebrew.

I, Darren, disassociate from Haim’s immediate memory. I’m amazed yet again at the lack of language barriers when it comes to Reading. Haim’s native tongue appears to be Hebrew, yet I understand his thoughts, just like I did with the Russians the other day. It seems to prove that thought is language-independent, unless something else explains this phenomenon.

I also reflect on how someone else’s feelings become my own during Reading—for example, the olive-skinned woman at this table seemed very plain to me a moment ago, but inside Haim’s head, everything is different. Her dark eyes and hair are just like our mother’s—and the similarity is further highlighted by her caring nature . . .

I’m distracted from my rumination when I feel something new.

This something is hard to explain. Have you ever had a head rush from getting up too quickly or drinking too much? Multiply that lightheadedness a thousandfold, and you might get a glimpse of what this feels like.

All my instincts tell me I need to clear my head of this feeling. To get stability. To ground myself, which means I need to do the opposite—at least if I follow Caleb’s instructions.

So I try to remain loopy. It’s difficult, but my reward, if you can call it that, is a strengthening of this weird feeling. It now feels less like lightheadedness and more like free falling from a plane—a feeling I got to know recently from Reading my friend Amy’s skydiving experience.

And then something completely different begins.

A feeling of unimaginable intensity overcomes me, a combination of overwhelming awe and wonder. There’s a strange bliss to it, followed by a feeling of becoming something more than my own self—becoming a new being. It’s both frightening and beautiful.

The sensation comes in waves of moments when I feel deep understanding of everything in the world, even the universe—or maybe even the multiverse—as though, all of a sudden, my intelligence has multiplied. That brief sensation of omniscience dissipates the next moment, and what I feel can best be described as cherishing something sacred, like standing in reverence next to a monument for fallen soldiers.

In the midst of all this, the knowledge dawns on me: I’m not alone. I’m part of something more elemental than myself. And then, I understand.

I’m not simply Darren, not anymore. I’m Caleb. And I’m Darren. Both at once. But not in the way Reading allowed me to be other people. This is a much deeper connection. During Reading, I merely see the world through someone else’s eyes. This Joint Reading experience is much more than that. I see the world through Caleb’s eyes, but he also sees the world though my eyes. It almost blows my mind when I realize I can even see through his eyes how the world looks through mine, when filtered by his perception and biases.

I can tell he’s trying not to get deep into my mind, and I try to reciprocate by focusing on not getting into his. As this is happening, the positive feelings I was experiencing thus far begin to turn dark. I sense something frightening in Caleb’s mind. And the whole universe seems to be shouting one idea in our joint mind: “We are staying out of each other’s heads. We are staying out of each other’s heads . . .”

But before either one of us can actually follow this reasonable mantra, a barrage of memories is triggered, all at once.

On some level, I’m not sure how, I know that Caleb is seeing my most embarrassing and vivid memories. I don’t know why it’s happening; it could be because they shine so brightly in my mind, or it could be because he’s curious about some of this stuff. Whatever the answer, he’s reliving the time my moms talked to me about m**********g. If it were possible to turn red right now, I’d look like a tomato at the thought of sharing that particular memory. He’s also reliving other things, like the time I first phased into the Quiet after my bike accident. The first time I had s*x. The day I saw Mira in the Quiet and realized I wasn’t alone.

On some level, I’m reliving all these memories at the same time. All at once, as though in a dream.

And then I realize something else is happening. With dread, I see a mental tsunami coming at me.

It’s Caleb’s memories.