Instinct: A Chess Team Adventure - By Jeremy Robinson Page 0,99
some arcane magic, from massive crystals descending from the roof, three hundred feet high. Bundles of crystals clung to the ceiling, but a few, the largest of the bunch, stretched from ceiling to floor, putting the giant crystals discovered in Chihuahua Mexico’s Naica Mine to shame. But the light did not generate from the crystals, it was merely amplified and cast out by them. The light source beaming itself onto the crystals was the same here as it was everywhere else in the world. Hundreds of small holes had been carved into the mountain above the tree line. Sun streaked through the holes, struck the crystals, and refracted throughout the chambers. A passing cloud caused the light to flicker. The most beautiful light display filled the chamber as the moving light split into colorful rainbows that danced across every surface.
Following one of the rainbow shards of light to the city below, Sara noticed several patches of green. Trees grew. Flower beds, too. All were manicured and stunning. But the city was not inhabited. It was a living ghost city.
And the city truly felt dead, despite the obvious new growth. At first Sara thought the otherworldly feel of the place was influencing her sense of undead dread. The growing feeling of unease peaked. Something inside her mind, like an elastic suddenly springing free from a snag, snapped back into place. She staggered, trying to make sense of the change.
Weston saw her stumble and took hold of her shoulder. “Are you all right?”
Sara held her hand up, but could not yet speak. She focused on standing. Then when she felt sure she wouldn’t tumble over the edge, she tried to get a handle on her senses.
She breathed. She listened. She felt . . . less.
Sara’s eyes went wide.
Smell was smell and sound was sound. She could feel nothing but the hand on her shoulder and ground beneath her feet. She sensed the world in five separate categories now, not a continuous mash-up.
“What is it?” Weston asked, sounding more interested than concerned.
“I have a neurological disorder. I feel and see sounds, sometimes smells.”
“And now?”
“Gone.”
Weston chuckled. “Amazing, isn’t it?”
Sara’s eyes widened as she surveyed the ancient natural structures. “It’s the crystals.”
“Indeed.” Weston straightened his stance, proud like a child showing a new bike to friends. “Before I came to the Annamites, I was something of a postmodern hippie. I wore these crystals. Quartz. I’m not sure if I ever truly believed the crystals did what they were supposed to. I just thought they were pretty.”
He took a deep breath, holding the air in his lungs, and then let it free with a smile. “Buddhism assigned quartz as one of their seven precious substances. Native Americans called them ‘the brain cells of Grandmother Earth.’ Ancient Indian Sanskrit reveres them as ‘the gem that removes fear.’ Throughout history, mankind has been—incorrectly—attributing power to regular quartz crystals. I believe the crystals of Mount Meru were the inspiration for the belief of crystal healing throughout human history. The difference is that these really work.”
Sara’s mind couldn’t help but hypothesize. “Maybe it’s the vibrations . . .”
“What was that?”
Sara’s answer was more thinking aloud than an actual response. “All matter exists in three states. Gas, liquid, and solid. The atoms in a gas are loose. Free to shift and move about. In a liquid the atoms are condensed—squeezed together—but are still able to move about. But with solids the atoms are compressed—squeezed against each other and unable to move. In most structures, like stone, the collection of atoms is random. But with crystals, like quartz, the atoms are . . . organized. Motifs and lattices. It’s like the atoms are trapped inside tiny boxes, bouncing off tightly enclosed walls. With trillions of atoms all following this same microscopic, unified pattern, they give off an imperceptible but powerful vibration.
“I doubt they’re capable of healing disease or injuries, but the human mind is a network of neurons. Electrical impulses moving along paths crisscross the mind. But it’s not orderly. People stutter. They forget. The mind can think, but it can’t organize itself. Neurons collide. Get lost. Pathways break. How the mind really works is still a mystery. But we do know the mind can be a chaotic place. Perhaps these crystals align the neural pathways?”
“Like redesigning Boston in a grid.”
“Exactly.” Sara looked at Weston and immediately felt a surge of guilt. This man was her captor and threatened their mission. She glanced at her outbreak meter. Still orange. Despite her growing