Free Crosstalk by Connie Willis Page A
Authors: Connie Willis
unless I’m asleep, too. Which I’m not. Nope, I hate to tell you this, but we’re really talking
.
“But how
can
we be?” Briddey said aloud.
That’s what I want to know,
C.B. said.
You ignored my warning, didn’t you? I guess it’s a good thing I didn’t warn you not to jump off a bridge, or you’d have ignored that, too. You went ahead in spite of everything I said, and had the IED—
“It’s
not
an IED!”
Yeah, well, that’s a matter of opinion. Where are you talking to me from? The hospital?
“Yes,” she said. “Where are you?”
My lab. At Commspan,
he said, and if that was true, then he was miles away. Which meant they were talking telepathically. Which was impossible.
Apparently not,
C.B. said.
I told you having it was a terrible idea, that there could be UICs, but you didn’t listen, and now here you are, connected to me instead of Trent
.
“I am
not
connected to you!”
Then what would you call this?
“I don’t
know
! Dr. Verrick must have gotten a wire crossed when he—”
Brains don’t have wires.
“A synapse, then, or a circuit or something.”
It doesn’t work like that,
C.B. said.
“How do
you
know? You’re not a brain surgeon. Dr. Verrick could have spliced the wrong synapses together, so that when I called to Trent, I got connected to you instead.”
So I’m what—a wrong number? And speaking of Trent, where is he? And how come he didn’t answer if you were calling him?
“I don’t
know!
” she wailed. “Oh, how could this have happened?”
I warned you there could be unintended consequences.
“But not telepathy,” she insisted. “It’s not even a real thing!”
Yeah, well, about that, Briddey. There’s something I need to tell you.
His voice was so close it felt like he was standing at the end of the bed.
He is,
she thought, suddenly convinced of it. He wasn’t at Commspan. He’d sneaked in while she was asleep and was hiding somewhere here in her room, and this was all his warped idea of a practical joke.
Hiding?
he said.
What are you talking about? Where?
Under the bed,
she thought.
Or behind the curtains
. But when she turned on the light above her bed, she saw that the curtains only reached to the bottom of the window, and the long dividing drape between the two beds was pushed all the way back against the wall, too narrow to conceal anyone.
He could still be down behind the other bed, or in the bathroom or the closet
, she thought, though if he was, why had his voice sounded like it had been right next to her?
Exactly
, C.B. said.
“You’re throwing your voice,” she said accusingly. “Like a ventriloquist.”
He laughed.
A ventriloquist? You’re kidding, right?
“No,” she said, and sat up. She swung her legs over the side to go look, but the sudden movement made the room lurch. She lay back down. “You’d better come out now,” she said, fumbling for the call button clipped to her pillow, “or I’m calling the nurse.”
I wouldn’t do that if I were you. It’s three o’clock in the morning, which means she’s not going to be happy that you’re awake, and she’s going to be
really
unhappy when you tell her you’re hearing voices. In the second place, she’ll call Dr. Whatzisname, and he’ll—
“What? Come in here and throw you out? Good,” Briddey said, and pushed the call button. “I’d like to see that.”
So would I,
C.B. said,
especially since I’m all the way across town.
“Well, if that’s true, which I don’t believe for one second, then he’ll realize something’s gone wrong, and he’ll go back in and fix it.”
Maybe. Or maybe he’ll have you moved to the psych ward. And either way, he’ll tell Trent
.
Oh, my God, Trent.
She hadn’t thought how this would sound to him. She fumbled for the call button to see if she could turn it back off, but she was too late. The nurse was already there, and she
did
look annoyed. And was going to look even more put out if Briddey told her she didn’t
.
“But how
can
we be?” Briddey said aloud.
That’s what I want to know,
C.B. said.
You ignored my warning, didn’t you? I guess it’s a good thing I didn’t warn you not to jump off a bridge, or you’d have ignored that, too. You went ahead in spite of everything I said, and had the IED—
“It’s
not
an IED!”
Yeah, well, that’s a matter of opinion. Where are you talking to me from? The hospital?
“Yes,” she said. “Where are you?”
My lab. At Commspan,
he said, and if that was true, then he was miles away. Which meant they were talking telepathically. Which was impossible.
Apparently not,
C.B. said.
I told you having it was a terrible idea, that there could be UICs, but you didn’t listen, and now here you are, connected to me instead of Trent
.
“I am
not
connected to you!”
Then what would you call this?
“I don’t
know
! Dr. Verrick must have gotten a wire crossed when he—”
Brains don’t have wires.
“A synapse, then, or a circuit or something.”
It doesn’t work like that,
C.B. said.
“How do
you
know? You’re not a brain surgeon. Dr. Verrick could have spliced the wrong synapses together, so that when I called to Trent, I got connected to you instead.”
So I’m what—a wrong number? And speaking of Trent, where is he? And how come he didn’t answer if you were calling him?
“I don’t
know!
” she wailed. “Oh, how could this have happened?”
I warned you there could be unintended consequences.
“But not telepathy,” she insisted. “It’s not even a real thing!”
Yeah, well, about that, Briddey. There’s something I need to tell you.
His voice was so close it felt like he was standing at the end of the bed.
He is,
she thought, suddenly convinced of it. He wasn’t at Commspan. He’d sneaked in while she was asleep and was hiding somewhere here in her room, and this was all his warped idea of a practical joke.
Hiding?
he said.
What are you talking about? Where?
Under the bed,
she thought.
Or behind the curtains
. But when she turned on the light above her bed, she saw that the curtains only reached to the bottom of the window, and the long dividing drape between the two beds was pushed all the way back against the wall, too narrow to conceal anyone.
He could still be down behind the other bed, or in the bathroom or the closet
, she thought, though if he was, why had his voice sounded like it had been right next to her?
Exactly
, C.B. said.
“You’re throwing your voice,” she said accusingly. “Like a ventriloquist.”
He laughed.
A ventriloquist? You’re kidding, right?
“No,” she said, and sat up. She swung her legs over the side to go look, but the sudden movement made the room lurch. She lay back down. “You’d better come out now,” she said, fumbling for the call button clipped to her pillow, “or I’m calling the nurse.”
I wouldn’t do that if I were you. It’s three o’clock in the morning, which means she’s not going to be happy that you’re awake, and she’s going to be
really
unhappy when you tell her you’re hearing voices. In the second place, she’ll call Dr. Whatzisname, and he’ll—
“What? Come in here and throw you out? Good,” Briddey said, and pushed the call button. “I’d like to see that.”
So would I,
C.B. said,
especially since I’m all the way across town.
“Well, if that’s true, which I don’t believe for one second, then he’ll realize something’s gone wrong, and he’ll go back in and fix it.”
Maybe. Or maybe he’ll have you moved to the psych ward. And either way, he’ll tell Trent
.
Oh, my God, Trent.
She hadn’t thought how this would sound to him. She fumbled for the call button to see if she could turn it back off, but she was too late. The nurse was already there, and she
did
look annoyed. And was going to look even more put out if Briddey told her she didn’t