Enhanced

Peter Pidgeons opened his eyes. The ceiling was white. His mind was blank. He didn’t know where he was… and he wasn’t sure what the last thing he remembered was. “Thank God, you’re awake,” said Jessica Bangs, stepping into his line of sight and peering over his face. Her expression was serious.

“Jessica,” groaned Peter. “What—Where am I?” he said, trying to rise but instantly feeling a sharp pain shoot across his chest.

“Here,” said Jessica, placing a hand behind Peter’s back and helping him up into a seating position.

“Thanks,” said Peter, clutching his chest. Jessica placed a pillow between Peter’s back and the bed frame.

“There, lean back,” she said. Peter obeyed, slowly reclining into the pillow. “Try not to tense up. And don’t touch your chest.”

“Where am I?” Peter repeated.

“In a hospital, in Econometric Elation. You’re lucky to be alive, Peter.”

“But what—what happened?”

Jessica furrowed her brow slightly. Peter could tell she was greatly relieved to see him awake and well—but there was also something else on her mind. Something that was bothering her and clearly overriding her relief over seeing him OK. “There was an accident during your procedure,” Jessica said. “There was an explosion—and then a fire. The Physiological Engineering and Improvement Station collapsed.”

“What?!” gasped Peter. “But how?”

“We don’t know yet,” said Jessica. Then she reached into her coat pocket and pulled out a spoon, “But this was in between your chest and your suit.” Peter’s face blanched. Jessica was holding the quilaire with her bare hands. “Do you remember why you were carrying this, Peter?”

Peter’s shock at seeing Jessica holding the quilaire was quickly overcome by his sensing an accusatory tone in her voice. He felt a wave of anger coming from her body… anger because Peter had clearly been an idiot for bringing a metal spoon into the magnetically powered machine where his procedure was to take place. “I’m—I can’t—” Peter tried to collect his memories, “I can’t remember why I would… I can’t even remember climbing into the machine…” Peter looked down guiltily at his hands. He wanted to tell Jessica right away that she should release the quilaire before it had an effect on her—but he was simultaneously feeling unusually burdened by her stare. He looked up into her face again, only to feel a rush of annoyance and judgment shooting from her eyes, tinged ever-so-slightly by an unsuccessful desire on her part to be sympathetic. “Could you stop looking at me like that?!” Peter shouted, looking away. “It’s not like I meant to bring that spoon into the testing room! I don’t even know how it got in my suit!”

Jessica’s eyes widened in surprise. “Peter,” she said soothingly. Peter knew she was only using that voice to counteract his distress. “Relax, I’m not accusing you of anything.”

“You don’t mean to accuse me,” Peter snapped. “But you think I’m an idiot for bringing that spoon in! You think I was negligent, and you’re wondering how a Foggistani soldier of my rank could commit such a careless mistake!” He was feeling agitated. Emotional. Angry. He wasn’t even concerned about the quilaire anymore—he was concerned about what Jessica thought of him. But when did he start caring about what people thought of him? Why did the look on Jessica’s face upset him so? What the hell was wrong with him?

At first, Jessica was stunned by the accuracy of Peter’s statement. But he wasn’t a psychic. How could he…? Jessica searched Peter’s face, trying to lock eyes with him, but he wouldn’t look at her. She was trying to understand why he had become upset so suddenly—how he had read her expression so accurately—and then it all clunked into place. “Peter! Close your eyes!” she said.

“What?” Peter said, irritated and still looking away from her.

“Close your eyes!” she repeated. Peter obeyed, overwhelmed by the urgency in her voice. The moment his eyelids closed, he felt his emotions relax.

“Whoa…” he said.

“Keep them closed,” Jessica said, straining to keep her voice steady, flat.

“They’re closed,” Peter snapped, “No need to freak out.”

“I’m not freaking—” Jessica cut herself short. She didn’t think she was freaking out, but to Peter, even the slightest hint of emotion in her voice was magnified. The human perception enhancement procedure had been a success. “Peter,” Jessica said.

“…Yes?” Peter turned his head in her direction, his eyes still closed. Now her voice sounded eager… like she was about to reveal something.

“What you’re feeling right now… I believe it is a consequence of the procedure…”

Peter opened his eyes. Jessica’s expression was far easier to tolerate now. “The procedure? But I thought there was an explosion.”

“I thought the explosion had interrupted everything too. But… it seems to have worked. You’re feeling it all, right? My facial expressions… my voice…” Peter nodded. Jessica smiled. She would have to work very hard now not to betray what she was thinking. “Splendid. Based on your conduct just now, you seem to have taken to the enhancement a bit more strongly than most—compared to the initial conduct of past test subjects… But you’ll be fine. I’m sorry to have upset you by making you feel I was accusing you for the accident at the Station. Yes, taking a spoon with you into the enhancement pod was negligent, and the spoon did injure you. But clearly you didn’t mean any harm. The Psychic in me can see that.” Peter now felt Jessica’s voice to be almost entirely artificial, though not untruthful. “In any case, now that I know the procedure was a success, we will begin the training phase as soon as you’re feeling better. We will teach you how to handle your ability and apply it to your profession.”

Peter frowned. “Can I have the spoon back?”

Jessica looked down at the spoon she was holding in her left hand. “Of course,” she said, placing it on Peter’s nightstand. Peter looked at it, carefully. Something didn’t seem right. “Now, just so I can give a report of your account to my superiors, are you sure—”

“Listen,” said Peter, perturbed by Jessica’s continued use of an unnaturally flat and formal tone. Beneath it all, he could sense a hint of excitement, and impatience. Excitement, because the enhancement had worked so well. Impatience, because she still didn’t understand why Peter had carried a spoon into the enhancement machine. “I took that spoon to the Station, yes. But it was never my intention to bring it into the testing area. Call me childish, but—that spoon is a sort of good luck charm to me. Now, knowing myself, I would have placed that spoon in my locker along with all my other belongings just before the procedure. I would never have consciously placed it inside my body suit—especially when the suit doesn’t even have pockets.”

“But that is what you did,” said Jessica, calmly. “It was in between your suit and your chest, Peter. It seared an imprint on your skin.”    

“Then I was negligent, Jessica,” Peter said finally. It was better to come off as an idiot and protect the quilaire, then to try and explain how a magical spoon somehow hypnotized him into carrying it into the enhancement pod.

“Fair enough,” said Jessica. Peter could tell she was still annoyed, but the seriousness in his tone seemed to have restored her faith in his good judgment. It had been a mishap, that was all. And now, Peter thought, she was going to put him at ease. “Now, I’ve run plenty of perception enhancement tests before, and even a piece of metal larger than this spoon would be incapable of causing the explosion that I witnessed. So rest at ease; this spoon is not the culprit.”

“OK,” said Peter. “But you’re speaking of the explosion as if it originated… in the testing room?”

“It did,” said Jessica. “It originated around your enhancement pod. Which is why I find it incredible that you are alive, and virtually unscathed. Your pod was wrapped in flames, Peter. And yes, the magnetism somehow caused the spoon to cling to your body and leave a pretty bad burn,” Peter looked down at his heavily bandaged chest, beginning to wish he could actually see the damage, “But clearly something else caused the explosion, and clearly something else protected you from the fire. Now, just in case it was the interaction of the pod’s magnetism with your spoon, I ran a few tests on the spoon while you were out.” 

Peter gulped. “And?”

“I found nothing.”

Peter cocked his head, surprised. “Nothing?”

“Nothing. Just an ordinary, aluminum teaspoon.”

“Aluminum?” Peter was incredulous, though he could perceive Jessica wasn’t lying.

“Did you think it was made of something else?” 

Peter shook his head. He could sense that his surprised reaction had just awakened in Jessica a slight degree of suspicion. He looked at the spoon on the nightstand. It was dull, lifeless—ordinary. “It’s just—given what you’re saying, I would’ve expected it to be something more than aluminum. But I guess not.” Peter glanced at Jessica. Her suspicion had been removed. “So… so you don’t know how I survived the explosion?”

“No Peter… it truly is a miracle.” Peter knew she believed it. “After the explosion, everyone fled the building as fast as they could. Luckily, no one was in the enhancement pod chamber when it happened—no one except you, that is. And the flames spread so quickly—we were sure you were lost. We gave you up for dead!”

“So how... how did I get out?”

Jessica looked at Peter quizzically. “Well,” she said, amused. “I guess you don’t remember walking out of there all on your own.”

At this point Peter received mixed signals from Jessica. Was she pleased, surprised, kidding, lying? “I walked out?”

“I don’t see how it could have been any other way. Like I said, we all assumed you were killed in the blast. No one rushed in to save you, I’m sorry to say…” here Peter picked up on her awkward sense of guilt. “But the firefighters found you unconscious behind the building, just minutes before its collapse. You seem to have escaped through the kitchens, then passed out from all the fumes as soon as you reached the alleyway. You weren’t hurt, not even singed—you just had the spoon burned onto your chest, which was presumably caused by the magnetism, not the flames. And that was all.” 

Peter stared straight at the wall, speechless. He knew the quilaire had done something—and he also knew the spoon sitting on his nightstand was not the quilaire. Jessica took his hand and pressed it gently, “It’s good to see you’re OK,” she said softly. At that point Peter sensed her feelings of affection. Genuine feelings of affection. And though he tried, he could detect no trace of deceit in Jessica’s voice. But if she didn’t steal the quilaire, who did?

“I think I’ll rest a bit now,” Peter said flatly, closing his eyes. All this enhanced perception was giving him a headache.

“You do that,” said Jessica, sweetly. She pressed his hand one more time, then stepped quietly out into the hallway. She walked to the ladies’ room, opened her phone, and dialed a number. 

“Hello. Yes, this is Jessica Bangs. I need you to call Latvia Starr. Yes. I need you to call her, and inform her that Peter Pidgeons, her significant other, is dead.”