A Vision of Fire

Still, Caitlin always checked Jacob when he came back from their video chats for signs that he’d had an uncomfortable conversation with his father. There were none today; he moved right along from a question about whether kids rode kangaroos in the outback to the topic of his homework, an opinion essay on the ethics of zoos.

As they discussed the different sides of the zoo issue, the back of Caitlin’s mind was chewing over her own ethical dilemma: sending the video of Maanik’s hypnosis session to Ben. She had already received his secure e-mail address, and she already knew she was going to send the file to him, despite it being against the rules of doctor-patient confidentiality. She concluded that because Ben was a friend of the family there was a chance the Pawars would agree if she asked—but she needed more certainty than just a chance. Sharing it with anyone other than Ben would be indefensible, yet she needed an outsider’s perspective, confirmation of something she had begun wondering about, something she couldn’t be sure was true. A full understanding of Maanik’s very elusive inner world depended on this.

• • •

After dinner, when she and Jacob had finished washing the dishes, Caitlin sent Ben the file, then called him online. When his image appeared he was looking at something else on the screen and typing, and she could tell he was beat.

“Hey,” he said.

“For horses,” she replied.

He smirked. It wasn’t funny, but Caitlin was. They were. That had always been their way: when one was down the other always took the high, droll road to help out.

“It’s taking this long to download?” she asked.

“It’s getting here ‘bit by bit,’” he joked back.

“Yikes. Is the UN giving employees hand-me-down computers from 1995?”

“Clay and styluses.” He smiled. “I’m using the landline to download the file, plus I’m jumping it through a few other hoops. Extra protections.” He finally glanced at her. “I’m surprised you sent it, Cai.”

“It wasn’t an easy decision but desperate minds call for desperate measures.”

“Are you feeling desperate?”

“I meant Maanik’s mind.” She thought for a moment. “No, I’m not desperate. Yet.”

Ben glanced away, somber. Then he fixed on her again. “How are you feeling?”

“About what?” she said, hedging.

“Managing this in the epicenter of a world crisis.”

“I think we’re all in that epicenter,” she said. “Any progress there?”

He shook his head. “You avoided the question.”

Now it was Caitlin who looked away. What she wanted to say was, Honestly, I’m not myself and I don’t know why. But this call was not about her.

“I’m very, very concentrated,” she said. “Sharp as a knife.”

“Don’t lose yourself in this, Cai.”

“I won’t. I know how to work my switchboard pretty well.” She smiled.

“ ‘Switchboard,’” he muttered. “You realize we may be the last generation who knows what that means? I had to translate ‘VCR’ for a young observer from Bhutan today. They had no idea what I was talking about.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she teased.

“Nice.” He grinned. “You got any new ‘someone walks into a bar’ jokes?”

Caitlin laughed and shook her head. “Those were the worst jokes ever,” she said apologetically.

“That’s what made them so good. My all-time favorite? Ahem—‘A skeleton walks into a bar and orders a gin and tonic. And a mop.’”

“I worry about you, Ben.” She rolled her eyes. “And no. I kind of outsourced the bulk of my sense of humor to Jacob a long time ago. He’s got natural silliness and it’s more than enough for one household.”

Ben shook his head. There was an imperceptibly longer, perceptibly more awkward silence. “What about the other parts of your life? Are you seeing anybody?”

“No. And why do we always have to have this conversation?”

“Not always—”

“You’re like my mother,” she went on. “Or more accurately, my sister, who’s due to gently kick me in the ass about that any day now, so I don’t need it from you too.”

“Okay, okay,” he said. “I wasn’t gonna kick you.”

They looked at each other. “Sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean to go off on you. Just a little stressed. Won’t happen again.”

“Great. Anyhow, the video’s downloaded. Let’s see what we’ve got.”

Caitlin didn’t miss the quick change of topic but filed the observation away for later.

Ben opened the video and tucked it in the corner of the chat window so they could both watch.

“Jeez,” he said when Maanik started speaking in gibberish.

“I know.”

“Wow,” he said again at the moment in the hypnosis when Caitlin felt she had been thrown into a wall. “What happened there?”

Caitlin didn’t answer so that he could focus on the use of the “blackberries” cue. She wanted him to know the cue in case the ambassador asked about it, but that wasn’t the only reason she’d shared the video.

At the end of the video Ben ran it back again to the segment with Maanik’s gibberish. Then they watched it a third time.

“You think that could be a language?” she asked.