Muted Trilogy: Mute Part 4

Officials say that they are not yet ready to leave the citizens of the cities unprotected. Meanwhile, locally, we have seen a minimal military presence, despite the many nearby bases, typed Rob, glancing at his keyboard periodically.

MREs are still being provided at local police and fire departments on an as-needed basis, said Gina. Stay tuned for weather after a message from our sponsors.

Jemma tensed, ready for a loud commercial, but instead, the ad was text-based, words flas.h.i.+ng and scrolling, changing colors for emphasis, explaining how their fruit juice, which was 8% real fruit, could make you feel as good as if you could sing, sing, sing!

Jemma returned her attention to her book, reading with a smile on her face. She was soon fully immersed in the story, and when her mother tapped her on the shoulder, she jumped.

Carolyn made the sign for "eat," one of very few signs Jemma had learned years ago during her mother's brief infatuation with American Sign Language. Jemma nodded. She got up, stretched, and followed her mother to the kitchen, retrieving plates from the cupboard and taking them to the toaster oven her mom preferred for tuna melts.

The timer's "ding!" was even more jarring than usual. Jemma grabbed napkins while her mother put the food on plates. Jill came out from her room, saw the table already set, and sat. Once everyone had gotten positioned in their seats, Jemma took a bite, closing her eyes to enjoy the flavor. This wasn't something that she ever actively craved, but there was something about the way her mother made them; nothing else quite hit the spot in the same way.

Jemma opened her eyes and saw her mom watching her, pleased, and her father watching Carolyn. Jemma smiled and looked at Jill, who was typing away at her phone again. After a silent laugh, Jemma decided to focus on her food. After she finished, she leaned back, comfortable.

Her neck and shoulders felt looser than usual. She didn't feel stressed about being home, not that that was always her dominant emotion. Without the noise, the chatter, this place, being surrounded by her family, it could almost be actively relaxing. There was a light tap on the table, and Jemma looked toward her mother, who was holding up the whiteboard.

Have your other coworkers come in yet?

Jemma shook her head and took the board.

Just me. But that means I can adjust how I think is best. Kinda scary, kinda awesome, she wrote. Carolyn beamed. All I did was set new hours and borrow a tablet, Jemma added, feeling her cheeks warm.

Carolyn reached for the board. You're running the place all by yourself, and you're going above and beyond. Matt looked at the board and then nodded in agreement, giving Jemma a thumbs up as he took his last bite. Jill, meanwhile, looked up, only halfway through her lunch, stared at the board, then at her mother and sister, raising an eyebrow. Jemma shook her head dismissively, and her sister shrugged, going back to her phone, eating with her left hand.

After everyone was finished eating, Jemma decided it was time for her to head home and familiarize herself with the app and get everything ready for work the next day. She wrote her goodbyes and got quick hugs from her father and sister, a lingering one from her mother.

Be safe, her mother mouthed, and Jemma nodded, waving as she left for her car.

CHAPTER SIX:.

A New Normal There was one person already waiting outside the library when Jemma arrived the next morning, and she made a mental note to go back to using the employee entrance around back even though the main door was better lit. The patron, male, probably in his fifties, stayed for only about ten minutes before checking out a single book and leaving. Afterward, the library was silent until ten thirty. Overall, it was a much slower start to the morning than Jemma had expected after the busy Sat.u.r.day.

Jemma made the best of her time, catching up on shelving and reports, some of which only needed to be done monthly. She checked to make sure none of the overdue books had been returned but not checked in properly, finding just one. She scanned that in, then emailed the patron to let him know to ignore the overdue notice he'd received, and she looked up when she heard the door open. She adjusted the tablet so that it was lying flat, on-screen keyboard ready, with the text-to-speech app turned on. Last night, she'd found an additional feature that allowed for the keyboard to change sides of the screen with the touch of a b.u.t.ton, eliminating the need to spin the tablet or navigate to the screen orientation menu.

Jack came into sight, his hair cut short. Jemma smiled, and he waved, coming over to the circulation desk. He waggled his eyebrows at the tablet, then reached for it, watching her to make sure it was okay. She nodded, and he quickly typed into the doc.u.ment.

"Hey, you got a tablet," announced LeVar Burton. Jack stopped to chuckle silently and continued typing. "Wow, it's been so long since I heard my voice that I'd forgotten what I sounded like."

Jemma flipped the keyboard to her side and responded.

"Yeah, not quite what I pictured. Soothing, though."

"You didn't think my voice would be soothing?" He held a hand to his chest as if injured. After a moment, he smirked and continued. "I've gotta admit, though, I didn't expect your voice to be quite so deep."

"Yeah, yeah," she typed. "Your hair changed so much I almost didn't recognize you, and that was before hearing the new voice."

He ran a hand over his head before typing again.

"Was getting in the way. Need my hands even more than before, couldn't keep pus.h.i.+ng it aside," he replied.

"That's logical. Anything I can help you with?"

He shook his head, then walked away, giving the Vulcan salute, smile still lingering. She waved, watching as he went up the stairs.

When he was out of her line of sight, she found herself thinking. He was a regular patron, at the library often enough that she knew his name and his general comings and goings. Yet, she had no idea what his voice had sounded like. Had he really not ever spoken? Judging by his friendly mannerisms this past week, she doubted that was the case. Instead, had she been that set against people talking, communicating aloud? If voices returned, would she be able to appreciate them better, or would it feel just as frequently jarring as it had before, as even the best electronic versions still did? Her mother's voice, her father's, she found herself missing those already, but she wasn't sure whether the appreciation would continue when people were able to speak again. If people were able to speak again.

She was still frowning when she heard the library door open again. She ran a hand across her forehead, forcing herself to relax and to be ready to deal with the customers as they came.

The morning pa.s.sed quickly, and her lunch break arrived. She decided not to make any present patrons leave. Instead, she set the door locks to allow people to exit but not enter. Only two others were in the building, Jack and another regular named Glenda. Jemma was about halfway through her sandwich - turkey and Monterey jack - when Glenda approached the circulation desk, wrinkling her nose at Jemma's food.

Jemma swallowed her bite and smiled apologetically.

"Sorry about that," she typed, ignoring Glenda's raised eyebrows at the voice. "How may I help you?"

Glenda looked down at the tablet, then pointedly at Jemma's hands, making a face again and crossing her arms.

"I didn't get any food on it or anything. Can I help you with something?" she tried.

Glenda pulled out her phone and typed, turning the screen to face Jemma. Can I talk to your supervisor? Where's Cecily?

"I'm sorry," relayed the tablet for Jemma, "but I don't have a supervisor here for now. If you'd like to speak to someone higher up, Jessica is usually present at the downtown branch."

Glenda typed again. This is completely unprofessional.

"I'm sorry. The library is technically closed for my lunch break, but you looked comfortable reading, and I didn't want to disturb you."

Glenda snorted, or the closest she could manage since the voices had been lost, more a huff of air than anything, then turned and walked off, letting the door slam behind her.

Appet.i.te dampened, Jemma remained facing the computer instead of turning back to her lunch. Why people insisted on acting that way completely baffled her. It hadn't been as bad, not since she'd returned to work, but still, it really seemed pointless. Almost as pointless as it was to be upset about it, she supposed. She saw movement from the corner of her eye and turned to see Jack approaching.

He looked concerned, and Jemma blinked, then typed.

"Is something wrong?"

His shoulders dropped along with the tension in his face, and he gave her a lopsided grin before reaching to type on the tablet.

"Sounded like you were having trouble. I heard a lot of 'sorry,' but I couldn't tell what was going on. I came down, and you were looking a bit defeated." He c.o.c.ked his head to the side as he watched her.

"Just another person who thought she knew better than I did. We get a lot of those sometimes. She didn't seem to like the fact that I was eating," she typed.

He scowled, some of the usual sparkle leaving his eyes. "Then she doesn't need to be here." He frowned down at the tablet. "This voice doesn't do angry very well, does it?"

Jemma smiled and shook her head. "Sounds pretty good for a computer reading text, though, doesn't it? I think I prefer just typing and reading, myself, but despite this being a library, it seemed like the patrons would prefer talk."

Jack nodded, moving to push no-longer-present hair out of the way and pausing when his fingers touched what was left. He sighed and dropped his hand, then turned the volume on the tablet all the way down and typed. Maybe if the voice sounded anything like yours, it would be okay, but it's just a little too weird, hearing his voice when I see your face, you know?

Yeah, answered Jemma. She watched him for a long moment. He held himself confidently, his expression open, and he wore jeans and a baggy Star Wars t-s.h.i.+rt that seemed to cover an average frame. A hint of stubble covered his angled jaw line, and the corners of his mouth seemed ever-ready to smile. What do you do, anyway? I mean, I could check your occupation in the system, but I thought it might be better to ask.

Computer programming, he typed back. I like to work here to change things up. Otherwise, I just work at home.

That's not something I know much about, programming, Jemma typed. Do you work for someone else or for yourself?

Jack smiled before answering. Someone else. Tried running my own business, but the hours were longer than I wanted, and they just kept getting longer instead of shorter. Sold my company, and now I work for someone else. Much easier. Plus, then I can just ignore the jerks and forward their emails to my boss to deal with.

Jemma gave him a crooked grin. That does seem like a good perk. I don't know whether I could work at home. I like being surrounded by my books.

Which is why I like to come here for work. He winked. Never did get too loud, though there was normally a little more background noise, of course. Being able to watch people gave me something to do without getting up from my computer or switching over to another website. Falling into the black hole that is the internet can be a hazard of working alone on a computer.

I can see that, Jemma answered. She stopped, unsure what else to type, and felt her stomach rumble. She glanced at the clock and saw she had just fifteen minutes left of lunch. She glanced at her half-eaten sandwich, and Jack seemed to pick up on the look.

I'm going to go grab something to eat. He hesitated, hands poised over the keys. Want me to bring you back anything?

Jemma shook her head, surprised. No, she typed, but thank you.

He nodded once, then left, Jemma blinking after him.

Even her coworkers had never offered to get her anything when they went somewhere for lunch. She liked to be self-sufficient, and she wondered whether that had maybe thrown people off. There had been some early invitations to social events, but those stopped quickly after none were accepted. Jemma could be a good listener, so she was usually filled in on whatever gossip her coworkers wanted to share, but otherwise, her interactions at work had always been strictly professional. She rubbed the back of her neck. Was Jack just a friendly sort? Would he have offered anyway? Chances were good that she was making too big a deal out of this. He probably just hadn't wanted to seem rude, leaving during their attempt at a conversation. She shrugged and finished her sandwich.

A few hours later, she was helping a child, probably ten years old, figure out how to explain what he was looking for.

"What are you looking for with heroes? Do you mean real-life ones or fictional ones?" she asked using the speech program, then watched him slowly type his response, listening difficult with the extended pauses between words. She'd have to look to see whether she could set it to speak only after a b.u.t.ton had been pressed or sentence finished.

"I think I want both because I am writing a paper about what it would be like if superheroes were real and how they would fight the voice thief."

"That sounds very interesting!" she typed back. She looked up and saw her own mother behind the boy, walking toward the desk. She blinked, then smiled back at the kid. "Let me show you where each of those sections is located."

She showed him around, leaving him once he seemed comfortable in the non-fiction section. She gave Jack a small wave, which he returned, before she headed back downstairs.

She gave her mother a hug before she turned to the tablet. "Hey, Mom," she wrote. "What's up?"

"I just wanted to see how this was working out for you and how work was going," Carolyn wrote, mouthing the words along with the tablet's speech. Jemma made a mental note to purchase at least one female voice.

"It's working out well, and work has been good. Pretty normal day. This makes it easier to talk to people." She considered elaborating, but she decided against it. Even at the quietest volume setting that could be heard, she'd noticed that sound carried, and all the patrons would be able to hear if she complained about their reading speed or about their handwriting.

"That's good," said her mother. She stood still, then hugged Jemma again before turning back to the tablet. "You're doing great, baby girl. I'm proud of you."

"Thanks, Mom," Jemma wrote, glad for the nearly-monotone response provided by the electronic device.

"I'll see you on the usual time and day?" wrote her mom, and Jemma nodded. See you then, she mouthed. Carolyn gave her one last hug and then left. Jemma saw a flash of movement from the balcony, then heard a chime from her computer, so she moved around the circulation desk to where she usually stood.

Her work messenger, the one she'd linked to the patron computers, had a notification showing. She had a message from CapJack284: You look like your mom, except the hair. I couldn't help but overhear, and, hey, like I said, I watch people when I'm working.

Jemma glanced up at the balcony, but Jack was sitting at one of the tables that was just out of sight. She tried to figure out how much she could tease him without actually upsetting him.

It's not at all creepy being watched by someone I can't see, she typed finally. After a few seconds without a response, she heard a tapping on the balcony railing. Jack gave her a jaunty wave and returned to his table.

I've gotta get back to work. Thanks for the brief diversion :), he wrote. Before she could decide whether that required a response, the boy she'd helped returned to the desk carrying several books on various types of heroes, and she turned her attention to him.

The rest of the afternoon stayed fairly busy, but the library cleared out quickly, without her even noticing everyone leave. She looked up from a final patron to see the room empty, and when she looked at the clock on the main computer, she saw it was two minutes past her set closing time. She set the door to outgoing traffic only, then made a circuit of the library, finding n.o.body still present. She wondered briefly whether Jack had tried to say goodbye or not, since he'd sort of been making a point of it lately.

As she finished her closing duties, she felt her phone buzz. She pulled it out of her pocket, holding it in her left hand as she wrote the final counts for the day into the log, and then she turned her attention to the cell phone, blinking to make sure she'd read it correctly.

Did you see the news? the text from her mother read. People can talk again!

CHAPTER SEVEN:.

Communication Jemma opened her mouth and tried to speak, but no sounds came out, and she frowned at her phone. Her mother would have called, not texted, if she could speak again. She responded to Carolyn's text using just question marks, then waited. Her mother's next message came quickly.

Telepathy! It isn't much, but it's something! Turn on the news.

I'm not home yet, Jemma typed back. I'll look at the online news.

Hurry! This is so much better. Her mother's enthusiasm speeding her movements, Jemma turned to the computer and pulled up a couple of news sites. Sure enough, the telepathy her mother had mentioned was already front page news.

Voices or Thought?

As you might already have heard, speech has returned.

However, this speech is not spoken.

Confused yet? So are we. A form of telepathic communication seems to have emerged, but it is very limited, and there's not yet been enough time to definitively confirm patterns.

Initial theories, however, seem to suggest that this can only reach as far as a moderated voice. Furthermore, level of familiarity between the speaker and listener seems to play a part; here in the newsroom, we've only found one pair who can communicate, a set of siblings who work in the mail room. Other confirmed communication has happened between spouses and college roommates. At this point, I've been unable to experience it myself, and this form of communication seems to have developed less than an hour ago. I find myself wondering what my daughter's mental voice will sound like.

This article will be updated when sufficient time for research, both in and out of the newsroom, has pa.s.sed. Meanwhile, head to the comments section to let us know: Have you experienced this so-called telepathy? How is it distinguishable from oral communication? Who are you able to share this with?

-Katie Brink, Staff Writer She scrolled down to the comment section, but it was nearly empty, n.o.body really adding to the discussion yet. She stared at the page while she thought. Jemma knew her mother would want her over, would want to be able to speak with her again, even if it wasn't aloud. She wondered, though, at the comment about the communication requiring a certain level of closeness; how would her family react if she showed up but was unable to talk to them this way? She didn't want to see that look of hurt on her mother's face.

She knew, though, that if she put it off, if she waited to find out, she would be preoccupied, wondering. Knowing that there was something she didn't know but could find out, that had always bordered on unbearable for her, which is what had helped attract her to research and books so strongly in the first place. She sighed and picked up her phone, texting Carolyn.

Okay. I'm on my way over.

Drive safely! Talk to you soon!!! Her mother's reply came almost immediately.

Jemma felt her jaw clench and stomach churn. Her mother was so certain they would be able to speak. There really wasn't any need for Jemma to be getting herself this worked up. She didn't know what level of familiarity was required, if that theory was true. Apparently, it was somewhere between sibling and coworker. As different, as out of place as she sometimes felt with her family, surely they would still count, still qualify as familiar or close. If it was a matter of love, that wasn't in question, at least.