Джеффри Дивер - The Goodbye Man

1. You cannot leave the camp for any reason during your three-week ITP (Initial Training Period). There is a medical team on-site, which can provide treatment for nearly all illnesses and accidents. If necessary, we have access to excellent local medical care.

2. You cannot make or receive any phone calls or emails during the ITP. You will leave your cell phone, computer and other electronic devices with the Assistance Unit. We have arrangements to get messages to you, in the event of a true emergency at home.

3. You will wear your provided clothing and your amulet at all times.

Provided clothing? Required jewelry? Shaw was once more wondering what he’d gotten himself into.

4. You will not consume alcohol or use drugs, other than prescription medications.

5. In the Osiris Foundation, we are not “members” or “followers.” Staff, trainers and trainees are to be referred to as “Companion.” We use given names only and precede them with the status of the Companion you’re addressing: Novice, Apprentice or Journeyman. Those in the Inner Circle should be referred to as “Journeymen.” Using these titles is in keeping with the Foundation’s philosophy of equality among genders, sexual orientation, races and nationalities.

6. You will not engage in relations with other Companions or staff.

7. You should spend your hours of Introspection meditating and reflecting in solitude, not groups.

8. You cannot leave your dormitory between the hours of 10 p.m. and 6 a.m. This is because of the risk presented by wild animals.

Shaw had an amusing image of a hungry wolf noting angrily that the time was 9:45 in the evening; he’d have to wait fifteen minutes for dinner.

He skipped to the end of the rules.

13. Once you have completed the training, you may tell others about the benefits of the Foundation but nothing about the Process™ itself or the specifics of your training. You will not post anything online regarding the Foundation, the staff or your experiences here.

14. You will do nothing to disparage the integrity of Master Eli, the staff, the Foundation or the Process™.

Weren’t two of the Ten Commandments about not worshiping other gods and taking the name of the Lord in vain?

Tapping the sheet, Shaw asked, “‘Companions’? What’s that about?”

“Master Eli believes the term best captures the spirit of the Foundation. It connotes camaraderie and equality.”

Didn’t people refer to their dogs as companions? Shaw’s sister, Dorion, had. He recalled another use of the word: he’d once rescued the teenage daughter of a prostitute, when the local police had little interest in finding the missing girl. In describing possible suspects, the hooker had referred to her clients as “companions.”

Shaw scanned the sheet once more.

“We can’t leave?” Frowning.

“Master Eli has found the Process works best when you’re wholly focused.”

“No phone?”

“We allow one phone call to let your loved ones know that you’ll be incommunicado for three weeks. Beyond that, Master Eli likes to say that the Foundation will be your family for the time you’re here. Besides, you’re single, have no children.” Samuel knew this without looking at his magic tablet. “Well, what do you think, sir? We’d be happy to have you on board.”

A practiced salesman, Samuel said nothing more. He knew not to oversell. He removed his glasses and cleaned the lenses with a tissue. Replacing the specs, he cocked his head and gazed at Shaw.

As if debating, Shaw studied the desktop, noting in the troubled wood an image of a lopsided Mount Fuji. His brow was furrowed. It was a smart arrangement. Applicants had already paid a nonrefundable fee. Of course they’d sign up; who’d want to flush a thousand dollars down the drain for this ten-minute spiel?

“Okay. I guess. And I’ll think about that, you know, will thing. For the future sessions.”

Samuel beamed. “Plenty of time for that. And the fee? Credit card or check?”

Shaw withdrew a second check from his wallet, made it out and handed it to the man.

The tablet revolved toward Shaw, and Samuel indicated where he should sign with his finger.

He did so, hoping the device wasn’t set up to capture fingerprints.

“Now, make that phone call. And let’s get started!” Samuel slid a card toward Shaw. “This is an answering service. Twenty-four hours. Give this number to whoever you want. If there’s an emergency, he or she can call and leave a message. Somebody from the Assistance Unit will contact you.”

Shaw placed a call to one of Mack’s burner phones, one she never picked up. The answering message was the default; it gave no name, just the number — which was helpful now, in case Hugh or someone was listening in. Shaw left a message for his “mother.” He would be away for three weeks, getting some help he needed. He’d be out of touch for that time. He gave the Foundation’s answering service number. He said he loved her.

Samuel held out a hand, took the iPhone and, after powering it off, placed it in an envelope, which he then sealed.

“Do you have any other devices? Wristwatch — smart or conventional? A tablet, computer?... They’ll be coming up with iToothpicks one of these days,” Samuel said with a wry laugh.

“Just my laptop. It’s in my backpack. It’s off.”

“Good.” Samuel then added, “Your luggage will remain in storage for the time you’re here. You’ll be provided everything you need.”

That they were going to dress him rankled almost as much as the absence of communications gear.

Another envelope appeared, similar to the one his mobile had disappeared into. “You’ll need to leave your wallet, credit cards and cash too.” He tapped a red stripe seal on the envelope. “Everything will be safe in here.”

Because no one’s ever stolen a sealed envelope before.

“I can see you’re troubled, suspicious. Some of our Companions, like yourself, the independent ones, have trouble with the conformity and giving up control. Master Eli has spent hours and hours determining what’s best for all the Companions. He’s decided that anything that reminds us of our lives outside the camp is a distraction. We can’t have that. So, we’ll put all this in your backpack or gym bag.”

Shaw noted the reference to his specific pieces. And Samuel hadn’t asked for a key; he’d known they were unlocked.

“In our four years here, we haven’t had a single incident of theft. Now! Bet you’re dying to know! Let me give you an overview of what’s going on here. The ITP. You’ll be working with a trainer. For the first week, that will be me.”

Training. Speaking of dogs.

What was that part of the deprogrammer’s definition?

A cult has a mission to reform followers’ behaviors...

“There are three levels in the Process. You start out a Novice.” He handed Shaw an amulet, a thin blue metal infinity symbol, on the end of a black leather string. “Put this on and wear it at all times.”

Shaw had never worn a necklace. No jewelry in fact. He’d come close, once. That involved Margot. But in the end, his finger remained free of metal.

“Rule Three.” Shaw recited this without looking at the sheet.

“Ha! You’re a sharp one. Well, you start the Process as a Novice. The trainer decides when you’ll move on to the next level. That’s Apprentice. You’ll get a red amulet. Usually takes five, six days. Sometimes shorter, sometimes longer. After that, you’ll move up to the final level and become a Journeyman.

“Most of the expedited Companions like yourself consider advanced training after the ITP is over. You can move up to the next level, and become an IC–Inner Circle.” He tapped his own silver infinity symbol.