Chapter Eighteen: As Flimsy as Diamond
"Stop the planning," said Manfred faintly.
"What? Why?" Dagger was irritated with this man enough as it was, without some new insane theory.
"Amanda is dead. Augury just killed her – what's more, he took over Evan. I just felt it. Augury wanted her dead, Evan wanted her alive. In order to achieve his goals, Augury expunged the personality of Evan Emerit from the body." Manfred shook his head weakly.
"You know what I think?" Dagger's tone was heightening, his anger rising. "I think that Augury killed her five years ago, and you're making this up –"
"I assure you that this is –"
"Not enough," said Dagger, releasing Gallade. "Leave no pore in his mind closed. Tell me if he's trying to conceal the truth about anything.
Psychic."
Manfred opened his mouth to protest, but he was thrown across the room by the force of the blast. As he hurtled, he felt the last several days pass before his eyes in extraordinary detail. It felt like he was in the air for hours, despite it only being a few seconds. Gallade muttered a few words to Dagger, and he withdrew him.
Manfred rose, angry. "Are you convinced now? This is terrible. Not for you, but for Bevan."
"How is it terrible that Augury's lost all conscience?"
"Evan Emerit only had a conscience for those close to him. But now we've forced Augury back into the shadows. You've seen him unmasked on a video on my files – his face twitches uncontrollably and his speech is inhuman. He will not be able to serve as Voice anymore. So we're forcing him to speed up his plans to be an Autocrat, which will mean he'll make mistakes, and pull him out of direct contact with the Oligarchs. So, not only will he make more mistakes, but he'll have to dedicate more time to psychically spy on them."
"And for Bevan?"
"He had given up emotion, Dagger, before he realised his mother was alive. When I told him, I gave him a taste of happiness. One of two things will happen to him now. One is depression. The other is that he'll try to subvert depression by removing feeling altogether. It's one of the only situation where depression is the lesser of two evils. Keep an eye on him, for I fear he will become like Cyrus."
Dagger tilted his head in mocking disbelief and chuckled. But he wasn't so sure: he knew from his Gallade that he was telling the truth about Giratina – in fact, Cicero had told him that Manfred's story made a lot of sense even before they captured him.
Could Bevan really become an agent of the apocalypse?
"Bevan, sit down."
Bevan had been called to his bedroom. Even though there were only two people – Manfred and Bevan – in there, it was cramped and stuffy.
He sat down on his bed, a smile on his face. Tepidly, Manfred began. "Bevan, I'm so sorry. Augury must have sensed that we knew about your mother."
"I… I don't understand." Bevan's smile faded.
"You have lost both of your parents."
Bevan opened his mouth, and then shut it. He was shocked. Manfred explained what he had seen in his vision, how his father had been consumed by Augury, and how his mother had been executed. After the explanation, the room was tense. Bevan sat there, cold, his body trembling. And, for a whole minute, that was all it was: Manfred sitting empathetic but uncomfortable, and Bevan, conflicted over how to react.
"It's OK to cry, Bevan."
He shook his head slowly, deliberately. "No. No, emotion leads to self-absorption. Augury has taken two more lives: one innocent, one deserving."
"Deserving? Bevan, he was your father."
"A biological connection," said Bevan dismissively. "This Cyrus character. He was right." Bevan blinked back the tears in his eyes. "I've lost everything. You gave me hope and you tore it from me. To give way to tears would…" Bevan had to blink again. "If I cry, then I become depressed. If I become depressed… I'm useless. I wish I could keep out the bad emotions and keep in the good, Manfred. But like Cyrus, I can't." Bevan turned to face Manfred. "So I have two options: depression or reason.
I choose reason."
"But –"
Bevan shook his head, almost sadly. But not quite. "There is no but. I cannot allow myself to feel hurt anymore. Please, just –"
Before he could say "go", the framed picture of his mother that he kept by his bedside, the last physical evidence that she ever existed, was cracked. It was instant and sudden.
"What the-? Did you do that?"
"Would you be angry if I did?"
Bevan shook his head. "That would be irrational. Anger is an emotion that makes you lose yourself. It consumes you." Bevan paused, not for dramatic effect, but to consider what he would say. Did he really want to lose all emotion again?
Yes. "Besides, it was a sentimental memento that would have me mourning, rather than training." As he said this, the vessel of reason threw the picture into the bin, with horrifying casualness.
"Despite my possession of psychic powers, Bevan, I'm no expert in the theory of it. But it would seem that that picture was crushed psychically, and I didn't do it. Do you know where the laboratory is?"
"Yes, why?"
"Ask for Dr. Cicero and tell him what just happened."
"What – did just happen?"
"You destroyed your only picture of your long-lost mother. That in itself is troubling from a psychological point of view. But what might interest Dr. Cicero even more than that is the fact that you managed to do so using only your mind."
Bevan was sitting on a table in a sterile, white room. Cicero was currently feeling Bevan's lymph nodes, furiously taking notes. He'd already examined Bevan's eyes and temperature, and had already filled five pages of information.
"Well, that's about all, young lad," said Cicero.
"So, have you ever seen this before? Has anyone suddenly used psychic powers?"
Cicero frowned. "No. Your… development is new."
"So you're of no help?"
The doctor stepped forward and smiled. "Surely you're curious? You moved something with your mind."
"Well, could these powers be used to my advantage?"
"Now, I'm no psychiatrist…"
"So don't comment on my psyche." Bevan was cold, impassive.
"…But I have gained wisdom over the years, Bevan. Emotion is what drives people. I have an IQ that is so high that it can't be accurately measured by any test. I employ reason and logic, and am able to form far more complex connections than you could even begin to understand. And yet I still make room for emotion in my life, Bevan. To strip yourself of emotion is to strip your life of worth."
"I came here to see a physician, not a therapist."
"You need both, Bevan. While Manfred's claims about a man named Cyrus are patently absurd, you will ruin your life if you stop feeling. You will experience good and bad. You've experienced a lot of bad. But think of the things that make you happy. Charlotte, for one. When was the last time you spoke to her? What about your Pokémon? What about freedom? Do none of these things evoke happiness?"
Bevan was silent.
I don't know, he thought to himself.
I really don't know. But he wasn't willing to concede an inch to Cicero. "So you have nothing on my psychic powers?"
Cicero was good at reading others, and he sensed that his words had had an impact. Pushing it would only hurt his cause. "I have a theory." And here, it was time for Cicero to shift from his 'reading other people' mode to 'lie to the experimental subject' mode. This was a well-rehearsed explanation among the five other scientists that worked for The Knife: if Bevan asked them, he would get the same answer.
"A while ago, we caught a member of the Moonlight Squad. When we looked at his blood, the then-head scientist discovered a new type of cell. It seemed that this cell had several functions." So far, he had spoken the truth. "One of which was a transmission function: it could transmit itself when the subject felt
love – yes, love. Ultimately, it's just a chemical reaction. We discounted the idea that it was significant because we calculated it would take at least five years of constant contact to even have a non-negligible chance of transmitting enough of the cell.
"So you're saying he passed the powers to me? But he could only use powers as Lord Augury."
"The cells only respond to one 'personality signature', as we call it. The cells were dormant in Evan, but reacted to Augury." This was a needle of truth in a haystack of lies.
"If it's a cell, then how come this power can be taught?"
Cicero smiled. "The first part of training is mastering your own mind so you are able to produce these cells. The second part is putting it to use."
"But how come I've never used these powers before?"
"Many things lie dormant in your system – we call it an incubation period. It is possible that these cells have done just that. Or, they could have taken time to multiply asexually. Quite honestly, I don't know the exact answer, because this is new. We'll test that blood I took earlier to check the presence of the 'psychic cell' in your blood."
"So I'm at no risk?"
"It's possible, but you show no signs of being in danger. In short, Bevan, you are the first case of someone who has 'caught psychic powers'."
"Will I be able to control it?"
"Eventually, you should. Try to exercise it, just like a muscle. Practice by moving a needle. Then move on to something bigger. You could be quite useful in the field, Bevan."
"Good." Just good. No smile, no curiosity, no hope. "Will that be all?"
Cicero nodded reluctantly. "Yes, Bevan. That is all."
"Surely, sir, it's not a major loss." Rex was providing counsel to his master. "After all, it's the Oligarchs that keep you powerful." He stroked his goatee, trying to get into the Machiavellian mindset that Augury had so mastered.
"It is not so much the Oligarchs themselves that give me power – it's the office of the Oligarchs. That's how I could tell them outright that they will lose power. I control the positions – who comes in, who goes out. The people are just a formality. No member of the Oligarchy has any inherent worth to me beyond their obedience, except perhaps Susan Adams.
"On the other hand, I'm losing people to the other side. Cicero, for one. While he was never actually on my side, the way his brain works… Let's just say, someone like him only comes around once in a hundred years. And now he's working for The Knife, while I have Simon Gordon and his team doing highly derivative work based on Cicero's original research. The only advantage is that we have money, and they don't."
"And von Stauffenberg? Do you think he will teach The Knife psychic powers?"
"No. He has regretted revealing their existence to me – he's not going to risk actively teaching them to terrorists. But he does know how to get to me – like with Amanda. He's made my plan far more difficult."
"I sense something is not right, Rex. It's an odd feeling, and I can't put my finger on it. It's surrounding Dagger, von Stauffenberg, Cicero, and Bevan."
"Well, they
are plotting to kill you."
"No. This is different. This is stranger, more sinister than a simple deathwish." There was a pause, and Augury spoke again. "As you know, I've withheld knowledge from you. I only teach people a certain level of psychic abilities in order to make sure they cannot overthrow me. For a similar reason, I restrict the knowledge of the Moonlight Squad even more than I do yours.
"But I have been reflecting. Had you had the ability to use telepathy, you would have been able to detect that ***** Appleby for what she was. This entire mess is traceable to her kidnapping Bevan."
"I thought you said it was dangerous? That I could turn into, well… you."
Augury chuckled. "I lied. You weren't ready. Knowing telepathy will not turn you into me – the fact that I have part of Giratina's spirit flowing through me makes me what I am. And, in any case, the power that
that brings cannot be taught."
"So… I shall learn how to manipulate minds."
"Yes, Rex. You are about to get a taste of what makes me so powerful." Augury slinked past him, and whispered. "But be warned. If you like the taste of it enough that I sense a hint of betrayal, well… it goes without saying what will happen to you."
"Yes, my Lord," he said. His voice had a faint tremor of fear.
"Be prepared, Rex. Controlling minds is nothing like controlling objects. You will know a power like none before. Where before you could coerce people to comply, now you can force them to. Gladly. Bloody battles become bloodless."
