Muted Trilogy: Mute Part 7

Voices One week pa.s.sed, and then another.

Jemma settled quickly into her new role at work. Weekly dinners with her family continued, and Jemma spent the rest of her nights at home. She didn't hear the voice again and had decided it was a dream. The parking lot had been quiet, and only once more had she felt like somebody else might be there.

She and Cecily had worked out their schedule; Cecily took the first two hours every weekday, and Jemma made sure she ate an early lunch before she came in. She also brought a snack that was easy to hide behind the counter, just in case, usually trail mix with some extra M&M's mixed in.

Jack had taken to coming in around noon each day and staying until closing. A number of other patrons had fallen into similarly predictable schedules.

Jemma looked around now, a surge of pride filling her as she saw how well the library had rebounded. People were more likely to come in with others than alone, but the library seemed to be a popular destination. Every table was taken. A few kids were spread out on the mat at the children's corner, those unable to Talk using dramatic gestures for communication, often leading to little bodies collapsed on the ground, shaking in silent fits of giggles.

She closed her eyes, enjoying the quiet sounds of the library, the shuffle of footsteps, the turning of pages. The evening sun streamed through the window, and she smiled before opening her eyes again. A woman approached her, Mariah, the woman who'd been unable to speak with her boyfriend.

"How was your week?" she typed, the tablet translating Mariah's words using the voice of radio hostess Delilah. Jemma had acquired a female option after Cecily came back; though she'd somehow forgotten about getting it after her mother's visit, hearing her coworker talk in a man's voice had been jarring enough to remind her, and Cecily preferred using the voices to typing silently. The app made it easy to switch between the voices, the same tool bar that helped with keyboard rotation also allowing up to five voices to be accessed without a separate menu.

"Uneventful," typed Jemma. "I'm usually here, and work's been going well. How about you?" She scanned Mariah's library card and started scanning her books.

"I've been okay. Did I tell you last week that I'd found a new place to live?" Jemma shook her head, and Mariah continued typing. "It's across town. I'll probably need to switch to a different library branch after I move in, but for now, I wanted the one that was familiar, you know?" Jemma nodded, stacking the books neatly by the tablet, tucking the due date receipt inside the cover of the top book. "If I do switch, can I return these to the closer library?"

"As long as it's still within the city's library system. As long as your card works there, you can return the books to any location," Jemma answered.

"Okay. Thanks." Mariah typed one last time before picking up her books. "I'll probably see you in a week." Jemma nodded, and Mariah waved as she left.

A few minutes later, about an hour before closing, patrons started leaving, and by fifteen minutes until closing, only she and Jack remained. Jack came down the stairs and made his way to the tablet, keeping the volume turned on until Jemma had finished her closing reports.

"Good day?" asked LeVar Burton's voice, and Jemma nodded, checking off duties as she went. She held up a finger, went to check foot traffic at the door, then came back and recorded it, arching an eyebrow at Jack in a silent return of his question. "It was a productive day for me. I got a lot more done than usual."

Jemma gave him a thumbs up and made sure everything was done. She had a few minutes before the library was officially closed, so she joined Jack at the tablet, and she turned the volume down before she started typing. Even with the additional voice, it was still a bit faster and less jarring to communicate silently with another fast reader and typist.

How's your dad doing? she asked.

He's alright. Weaker than he should be, but he's telling me he's fine. If he isn't better in a few days I'm gonna call his doctor.

Jemma hoped her face reflected her concern as she nodded. He doesn't like when you do that, right?

Jack smiled wryly. That's a bit of an understatement. I'd rather him be upset with me than not be here, though.

Yeah, of course.

Jack brightened some before changing the subject. How's your family doing?

My parents are thrilled that their cla.s.ses are full again, she wrote. Mom's still using the texting to keep her students involved in the cla.s.s. She pretends not to notice when her students who are close are paying attention to Talking to each other instead of "listening" to her. Dad hasn't changed his cla.s.s at all. He thinks Mom lets her students get away with too much, but I'd bet they zone out a lot more frequently in his.

Jack nodded. And what about your sister?

Jill is talking to a boy, so she's excited about that, but they aren't Talking yet, and I think she's getting impatient.

I can understand that, wrote Jack. Quiet never really bothered me, but it can get lonely sometimes. At least she has both parents, and you.

Yeah. She glanced at the clock. Time to close up.

I'll walk you out.

Okay, agreed Jemma. She shut down the tablet, and they walked out to the parking lot, dimly lit by the low sun. He walked to her car with her, pausing when she reached for the handle. Jack waved and had taken just a few steps away when there was a loud noise from beside the building, just out of sight. Jemma jumped, and Jack moved back to her side. Jemma pulled out her phone, bringing up a blank text.

That's happened a few times now. Not for a couple weeks, though. Haven't wanted to check it out alone, and, I mean, I'm not exactly gonna call the cops because I heard a noise in a public place.

She let Jack take her phone and type a response.

I'll go check it out. You can wait in your car.

She retrieved her phone. I'll come with you. Just because I didn't think it was smart to check it out alone doesn't mean I feel like I need to hide.

He nodded, and they walked side by side around the corner of the building. There was n.o.body there, but a trash can was on its side.

Maybe an animal knocked it over? The wind isn't blowing, typed Jemma.

That makes the most sense, answered Jack. Let's get out of here.

Jemma nodded, and she was able to get into her car, the doors locked, without further event. Jack drove off when he saw she was safe, and Jemma made her way home.

Once at home, Jemma made herself a quick dinner to quell her rumbling stomach. She took her meal to her computer, getting herself comfortable and pulling up a few articles she wanted to check out while she waited for her food to cool. When it had stopped steaming, she switched to the tab with the first article she wanted to read, pulled her feet up under her body, and started reading while she ate.

Communication Difficulties Over a month has pa.s.sed since The Event, since we've lost the ability to speak aloud. The telepathic communication that arose in its place has become more comfortable, more natural in that time, giving us an easy way to communicate without relying on technology.

Some people seem more comfortable with this than others. As we found out almost immediately, some seem to have a longer range. In the time we've had to look for patterns since, we've also seen that some people, typically children, are able to develop the connection needed much more quickly than others.

For most adults to be able to Talk to someone, they have to have been pretty comfortable with each other for years. Some people have found themselves able to speak only to family.

Others have found that even the smallest fight can cause them to be unable to Talk to their significant other, and this can prove impossible to regain.

Experts theorize this has to do with mental openness. When we argue, when we fight, when we keep our guard up, we close our minds. Children, more naturally open-minded, can, therefore, more easily connect with others. My daughter, three, can Talk to me, to her father, and to all of her regular caretakers.

This theory is complicated, though, by its exceptions. Some particularly open adults seem unable to Talk at all, giving rise to the theory that it isn't how open or closed one's mind is, but how well one can make a significant connection with another human being.

-Katie Brink, Staff Writer Jemma cleared her dinner mess and got herself a bowl of chocolate ice cream before reading another article.

Persistent Rumors With all of the uncertainty, having particular rumors persist is wholly unsurprising. They range from hopeful to terrifying.

One news source insists it has confirmed at least two people who can Talk with family pets, but there has been no indication that this is anything but wishful thinking.

Meanwhile, validity of the ability to communicate amongst certain groups of people, especially in high school ages, has remained in question as some feel the need to fake a connection, to brag about unfounded abilities. Those who wish to confirm an unusual telepathic ability are asked to report to the nearest military hospital for free testing.

This confirmation, however, is limited by another persistent rumor: is the government kidnapping those with advanced abilities?

We've still been unable to confirm these rumors. We have, however, been able to confirm that people have been tested and returned safely home without losing any of their autonomy in the process, even when they do prove to have a slightly longer range than our established averages. As best we can ascertain, this rumor appears to be just as false as the ability to Talk to four-legged creatures.

-Justin Thomas Jemma cleared her place and cleaned the kitchen, then curled up on the couch with a book, reading until she was tired. Yawning, she got ready for bed and then slipped under the covers, turning off the light and reviewing her day. She was getting more and more comfortable with the library and her new position in it, as well as with her patrons, especially the regulars who came during her s.h.i.+ft; she knew at least a few regulars preferred to come during Cecily's early-morning hours. Tomorrow would be the first children's reading time she'd organized, and she was looking forward to it. She'd chosen an 11:30 time, hoping that smaller children might be more likely excited by the books' being read aloud. Later, if it worked, she could try a time that would let school-aged children join in.

"Good night," she heard, male voice echoing in her head as it had a couple weeks ago.

"Who is this?" she sent back immediately, focusing as hard as she could on the voice, hearing her own voice echo.

"h.e.l.lo?" she heard, the person sounding surprised. "Who is this?"

"You spoke to me first," Jemma said, turning on lights and doing a thorough check of her house, finding nothing out of place.

"Are you in my house?" he asked.

"I'm in mine." She hesitated, watching out the window to see whether this was maybe originating from one of her nearest neighbors. "Are you on my street?"

"I'm on a cul-de-sac. Are you?"

"No. We don't have any of those in my neighborhood." She stood near her bed. "So you don't know me?"

"I don't recognize your voice, no. Do you?" He sounded unsure.

"I don't think I've ever heard your voice. What's your name?"

There was a pause before he responded.

"I'd rather not say. This is highly unusual, right? What if I tell you my name and then I'm suddenly taken by unknown government men?" There was a hint of humor in his voice, as if he couldn't quite believe what he was saying. "I know that sounds ridiculous, but I'd dismissed the rumors of people speaking from different buildings until now, too."

"You won't mind if I don't share my own name, then?" she asked.

"No." Silence stretched for a long moment, and Jemma crawled back into her bed. "It's nice to hear another voice, though, I'll admit."

"I might appreciate it better once I'm sure I'm not going crazy. I was almost asleep. Maybe I'm just dreaming."

A chuckle echoed through her. "So I sound like your dream guy, then?"

She laughed silently, keeping her amus.e.m.e.nt to herself. "I don't know about that. Hallucinations are possible, too."

"It's a pleasant hallucination, at least, if that's what's happening to me."

"I dunno. I think a strange voice speaking in my head when I have no clue who the person is might be more along the lines of a nightmare than a dream." She stopped, thinking about how true that was, and yet, she wasn't afraid of this voice. Not the way she knew she should be. She was, though, afraid of what could happen if some of the rumors she'd read turned out to be true. "We can't tell anyone."

"Agreed. This is... Yeah, agreed."

Jemma smiled. "It's been a long time since I heard someone pause mid-sentence to think."

"The things we miss, huh?"

"Mmm," Jemma agreed.

"Well," he said after a brief quiet, "you'd said you were falling asleep. I'll let you get back to that, I guess."

"All right. Good night, whether you are in my imagination or not," she said, pulling the covers up higher and getting more comfortable.

"Good night, stranger."

Jemma yawned, covering her mouth automatically. There was no echo, just the silent yawn, so she didn't think he'd heard it. This had been unexpected, and even if she weren't worried about the rumors of disappearances, she wasn't sure whether she'd tell anyone. Who would she tell? Maybe Jilly. But how would she explain? "I was almost asleep and then I heard a voice, but I can't confirm that it was real because we're afraid to exchange any solid information"? She made a mental note to think of some facts she might be able to ask without giving away ident.i.ty. Her mind started slowing, her body pulling it under.

She slept, dreaming of strange voices, unidentified noises, and of children running through the library, their voices returned as Jemma yelled soundlessly for them to stop.

CHAPTER ELEVEN:.

The Morning After Jemma covered a yawn as she finished cleaning up the children's area. They had gotten through just one book, not the three Jemma'd had prepared, but the kids and parents seemed to enjoy the one. More books, though, had been beyond the attention span of the young preschoolers, and the story time had devolved into children playing with the few toys available, then fighting over the few toys available. Parents started filing out, most with at least a few books in hand and the name of the voice app and its add-on scribbled on the back of the due date receipt.

Now, though Jemma had eaten just a couple of hours ago, her stomach was growling silently. She reached for her bag of trail mix, setting it on the counter s.p.a.ce that sat about a foot below the register, turning and popping a handful into her mouth before turning back to face most of the library, grinning sheepishly at Jack, who stood in front of her with a mock scowl. She muted the laptop, then typed while she chewed.

Didn't hear you come in.

That's because you were too busy eating on the job. Something crunchy? he asked.

Jemma nodded and held up the bag, putting it away again quickly.

We had story time this morning. I think kids have so much energy because they suck it from those around them, she typed.

Haven't been around kids a lot. Only child. Was never asked to babysit or anything like that.

After glancing around to make sure n.o.body was waiting for help, Jemma typed, What did you do for money as a teenager?

McDonald's, Burger King. You know, the glorious jobs that just about everybody has at one or more points in their lives. Nothing wrong with them, but not where I wanted to be, even as a teenager. He grinned as he continued typing. Eventually, I quit the fast food jobs because I figured out I was better at selling virtual gold for online games. Again, not a particularly glamorous job, but it was a little more up my alley. Stopped that, too, eventually, when people started making laws regarding it and companies started trying to enforce their own rules. I didn't need the money enough to risk my reputation. He looked at her. What about you? What were your jobs before finding your career?

Not babysitting. She didn't have to look up to see him shaking with laughter. I didn't work a lot, honestly. Tutored when I needed some extra cash. Spent time volunteering in libraries. By the time I could work, I knew what I really wanted to do, and I felt like anything else was a waste of time.

It's good, knowing yourself that well. Not something I can really claim.

You laugh a lot more easily than I do, though. I envy that.

He c.o.c.ked his head, watching her before typing. I don't know. You seem to laugh easily enough, at least as far as I've seen.

She heard footsteps coming her way before she could respond, and she saw Jack notice them, too. He waved and went upstairs so that she could help the approaching patron.

The rest of Jemma's day pa.s.sed quickly, and she started closing duties later than she liked, so when Jack approached to type with her before the end of her work day, she held up a finger, not wanting to be distracted while she finished. In her peripheral vision, she saw him nod, and she focused her attention back on work. She finished just a few minutes past the hour, and she blinked when she looked up and saw Jack still waiting, even though she'd known he was still there when she'd checked for other patrons and locked the door.

While waiting for her, he'd pulled out a book - his own, as far as she could tell, not one that belonged to the library - and was reading, leaning against the circulation desk, his elbows propped on the counter. He couldn't be particularly comfortable, Jemma knew from having read in that same position with some regularity. Jack's brown eyes, skimming back and forth across the page, had dark circles under them that she wasn't used to seeing on him. He flicked his gaze toward her and grinned. She felt herself blush slightly and hoped the lights were dim enough that he couldn't see she'd been watching him. He closed his book and put it back in the outer pocket of his laptop case, then reached for the tablet that hadn't yet been turned off.