to him and brandished the vacuum cleaner attachment. “You want to see how getting hit upside the head with this feels?”
Luke left. He walked slowly along the connecting residence corridors, pausing twice to lean against the wall when the cramps hit. At least they were lessening in frequency and intensity. Just before he got to the deserted lounge with its view of the administration building, he went into one of the empty rooms, laid down on the mattress, and went to sleep. He woke up for the first time not expecting to see Rolf Destin’s house outside his bedroom window.
In Luke’s opinion, that was a step in exactly the wrong direction.
23
The next morning he was given a shot, then hooked up to heart and blood pressure monitors, and made to run on a treadmill, monitored by Carlos and Dave. They sped the treadmill up until he was gasping for breath and in danger of tumbling off the end. The readings were mirrored on the little dashboard, and just before Carlos slowed him down, Luke saw the BPM readout was 170.
While he was sipping at a glass of orange juice and getting his breath back, a big bald guy came in and leaned against the wall, arms crossed. He was wearing a brown suit that looked expensive and a white shirt with no tie. His dark eyes surveyed Luke, all the way down from his red and sweaty face to his new sneakers. He said, “I’m told you show signs of slow adjustment, young man. Perhaps Nick Wilholm has something to do with that. He’s not someone you should emulate. You know the meaning of that word, don’t you? Emulate?”
“Yes.”
“He is insolent and unpleasant to men and women who are only trying to do their jobs.”
Luke said nothing. Always safest.
“Don’t let his attitude rub off on you, that would be my advice. My strong advice. And keep your interactions with the service staff to a minimum.”
Luke felt a stab of alarm at that, then realized the bald guy wasn’t talking about Maureen. It was Fred the janitor he was talking about. Luke knew that perfectly well, although he had only talked to Fred once and had talked to Maureen several times.
“Also, stay out of the West Lounge and the empty rooms. If you want to sleep, do it in your own room. Make your stay as pleasant as possible.”
“There’s nothing pleasant about this place,” Luke said.
“You’re welcome to your opinion,” the bald man said. “As I’m sure you’ve heard, they’re like assholes, everybody’s got one. But I think you’re smart enough to know there’s a big difference between nothing pleasant and something unpleasant. Keep it in mind.”
He left.
“Who was that?” Luke asked.
“Stackhouse,” Carlos said. “The Institute’s security officer. You want to stay off his bad side.”
Dave came at him with a needle. “Need to take a little more blood. Won’t take a minute. Be a good sport about it, okay?”
24
After the treadmill and the latest blood draw, there were a couple of days of no tests, at least for Luke. He got a couple of shots—one of which made his whole arm itch fiercely for an hour—but that was all. The Wilcox twins began to adjust, especially after Harry Cross befriended them. He was a TK, and boasted that he could move lots of stuff, but Avery said that was a crock of shit. “He’s got even less than you do, Luke.”
Luke rolled his eyes. “Don’t be too diplomatic, Avery, you’ll strain yourself.”
“What’s diplomatic mean?”
“Spend a token and look it up on your computer.”
“I’m sorry, Dave, I can’t do that,” Avery said in a surprisingly good imitation of HAL 9000’s softly sinister voice, and began to giggle.
Harry was good to Greta and Gerda, that was undeniable. Every time he saw them, a big goofy grin spread over his face. He would squat down, spread his arms wide, and they would run to him.
“Don’t suppose he’s fiddling with them, do you?” Nicky asked one morning on the playground, watching as Harry monitored the Gs on the trampoline.
“Eww, gross,” Helen said. “You’ve been watching too many Lifetime movies.”
“Nope,” Avery said. He was eating a Choco Pop and had grown a brown mustache. “He doesn’t want to . . .” He put his small hands on his backside and bumped his hips. Watching this, Luke thought it was a good example of how telepathy was all wrong. You knew way too much, and way too soon.
“Eww,” Helen said again, and covered her eyes. “Don’t