Butler, Octavia - Mind of My Mind

“You know better.”

“No.” The girl glared at Ada furiously, still trying to make herself believe the lie. Then something in her expression crumbled. How did it feel, after all, to learn that the foster parents you adored, the only parents who had ever shown you love, loved you only because they had been programmed to?

Ada watched her, fully aware of what she was going through, but choosing for a moment to ignore it. “We call ourselves Patternists,” she said quietly. “This is our school. You and the others here are our children. We want the best for you even though we’re not capable of giving it to you personally. It isn’t possible for us to take you into our homes and give you the care you need. It just isn’t possible. You’ll understand why soon. So we make other arrangements.”

The girl was crying silently, her head bowed, her face wet with tears and twisted with pain. Now Ada went to her, put an arm around her. She continued to speak, now offering comfort in her words. The girl was going to be too strong to be soothed with lies or

partial amnesia. She had already proved that. Nothing would do for her but the truth. But that truth was not entirely disillusioning.

“The Dietrichs deserve the love and respect you feel for them, Page, because you’re right about them. They are good people. They love children naturally. All we did was focus that love on you, on the others. In your case we didn’t even have to focus it much. I didn’t think we would. That’s why I chose them for you—and you for them”

Finally Page looked up. “You did? You?”

“Yes.”

She thought about that, then leaned her head to one side, against Ada’s arm. “Then I guess it’s only right that you be the one to take me away from them.”

Ada said nothing.

Page lifted her head, met Ada’s eyes. “You are going to take me away, aren’t you?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t want to go.”

“I know. But it’s time.”

Page nodded, lowered her head again to rest it against Ada’s arm.

Chapter Ten

MARY

A few months into our first year, the original group of actives broke up. Rachel and Jesse moved out first—moved down the street to a house almost as big as ours. Then Jan moved alone. I had had a talk with her about using her psychometry as a kind of educational tool, or even as an art. At the same time, I told her to keep her hands off Karl. I didn’t have that good a grip on him myself at the time, but I had already decided that, whether I got him or not, she wasn’t going to. She left the next day.

Our new Patternists had been leaving us right along, taking over nearby houses, with Jesse preparing the way for them with the mutes who already lived there. They all had to learn to handle mutes—learn not to smash them and not to make robots of them. That was something Jesse had been able to do easily since his transition.

Seth and Ada moved to a house around the corner and across the street from us. Suddenly Karl and I were the only Patternists in Larkin House. We weren’t back where we’d started or anything. Doro had finally left us, and we had a pair of latents with us. Everybody except Jan and Rachel was seconding somebody then. New Patternists too, as soon as they could be trusted to handle it. But Karl and I were more alone together than we had ever been before. Even Vivian didn’t matter much any more. She should have left Karl when he gave her the chance. Now she was a placid, bovine little pet. Karl controlled her without even thinking about it.

I was a predator and, frankly, not a very good one. But that was all right, because Karl wasn’t as sure as he had once been that he minded being the prey. He was a little wary, a little amused. He had never really hated me, though. Hell, he and I would have gotten along fine together from back when he first climbed into my bed if it hadn’t been for the Pattern and what the Pattern represented. It represented power. Power that I had and that he would never have.

And while that wasn’t something I threw at him, ever, it wasn’t something I denied either.

The Pattern was growing because I searched out latents, had them brought in, and gave them their push toward transition. It was growing because of me. And nobody was better equipped to run it than I was. I hoped Karl could accept that and be comfortable enough with it to accept me. If he couldn’t … well, I wanted him, but I wanted the thing I was building too. If I couldn’t have both, Karl could go his way. I’d move out like the others and let him have his house back. Maybe he knew that.

“You know,” he said one night, “for a while I thought you’d leave, like the others. There isn’t really anything holding you here.” We were in the study listening to the rain outside and not looking at a variety show on the television. Neither of us liked television. I don’t know why we had bothered to turn it on that night.

“I didn’t want to go,” I said. “And since you weren’t absolutely sure you wanted me to, I thought I’d hang around at least a while longer.”

“I thought you might be afraid to leave—afraid that when Doro found out, he’d just

order us back together.”

“He might. But I doubt it. He’s already gotten more than he bargained for from us.”

“From you.”

I shrugged.

“Why did you stay?”

“You know why. I wanted to be with you.”

“The husband he chose for you.”

“Yeah.” I turned to face him. “Stupid me, falling in love with my own husband.”

He didn’t look away from me, didn’t even change expression.

After a moment I grinned at him. “Not so stupid. We’re a match.”

He smiled thinly, almost grimly. “You’re changing. I’ve been watching you change, wondering how far you would go.”

“Changing how?”

“Growing up perhaps. I can remember when it was easier to intimidate you.”

“Oh.” I glanced at the television for a moment, listened as some woman tortured a song. “I’m a lot easier to get along with when I don’t feel intimidated.”

“So am I.”

“Yeah.” I listened to a few more bars of the woman’s screaming, then shook my head. “You aren’t paying any attention to this noise, are you?”

“No.”

I got up and turned off the television. Now there was only the soft, rustling sound of the rain outside. “So, what are we going to do?” I asked him.

“We don’t really have to do anything,” he said. “Just let things progress as they have been.”

I stared at him in silent frustration. That “silent” part was an effort. He laughed and moved over next to me.

“You don’t read me very much any more, do you?”

“I don’t want to read you all the time,” I said. “Talk to me.”

He winced and drew back, muttering something I didn’t quite catch.

“What?” I asked.

“I said how generous of you.”

I frowned. “Generous, hell. You can say whatever you’ve got to say to me.”

“I suppose so. After all, if you read me all the time, I’ll begin to bore you very quickly.”

So that was it! He was afraid he was going to get paid for some of the things he’d done to his women. He was afraid I was going to try to make a male Vivian of him. Not likely. “Keep that up,” I said, “and I won’t have to read you to be bored. You’re not pitiful, Karl, so, coming from you, self-pity is kind of disgusting.”

I thought he would hit me. I’m sure he thought about it. After a moment, though, he just sort of froze over. He stood up. “Find yourself a place tomorrow and get out of here.”

“Better,” I said. “There’s nothing boring about you when you get mad.”

He started to walk away from me in disgust. I got up quickly and caught him by the hand. He could have pulled away easily, but he didn’t. I took that to be significant and moved closer to him.