“Imagine the blackest night you can think of,” Cally said. She was lying on the opposite bunk in this distressingly primitive cell, and trying to explain to him what it felt like to be a telepath always among non-telepaths. “You can see nothing. You are outside, but there are no stars, nothing to see, nothing to hear. You can feel the air on your face, the ground under your feet, but there is nothing else, only silence and darkness.”
Avon stared upwards, his arms folded behind his head. “Peaceful, then,” he said. “I don’t see what you’re complaining about.”
“Yes, I suppose you would say that,” Cally said. “Why ask a question, Avon, if you don’t wish to hear the answer?”
Avon ignored that. “But you could talk to me telepathically? You’ve done it before.”
“Speech without any hope of reply is just as unsatisfactory,” said Cally. “But I suppose it is not unlike most conversations with you.”
“What if I tried to speak to you that way? They say telepathic ability is latent in all humans. It must have been brought out in your people originally, so it presumably can be done. Theoretically, at least.”
Cally gave a sudden, dark smile, sharing it with the ceiling before she turned onto her side to look at him. “There are ways you could,” she admitted. “But you would need my assistance first.”
“Would I now?”
“Yes.”
“What ways?”
Cally smiled again. “One you might enjoy – others you might find extremely painful.”
“Well, I’m all for scientific progress,” said Avon, “and we could be in this cell for a hell of a long time. Try me.”
She sat up and surveyed him, resting her chin on her hand. “Pleasure or pain, Avon?”
Avon/Cally, blackest night, 296 words
***
“Imagine the blackest night you can think of,” Cally said. She was lying on the opposite bunk in this distressingly primitive cell, and trying to explain to him what it felt like to be a telepath always among non-telepaths. “You can see nothing. You are outside, but there are no stars, nothing to see, nothing to hear. You can feel the air on your face, the ground under your feet, but there is nothing else, only silence and darkness.”
Avon stared upwards, his arms folded behind his head. “Peaceful, then,” he said. “I don’t see what you’re complaining about.”
“Yes, I suppose you would say that,” Cally said. “Why ask a question, Avon, if you don’t wish to hear the answer?”
Avon ignored that. “But you could talk to me telepathically? You’ve done it before.”
“Speech without any hope of reply is just as unsatisfactory,” said Cally. “But I suppose it is not unlike most conversations with you.”
“What if I tried to speak to you that way? They say telepathic ability is latent in all humans. It must have been brought out in your people originally, so it presumably can be done. Theoretically, at least.”
Cally gave a sudden, dark smile, sharing it with the ceiling before she turned onto her side to look at him. “There are ways you could,” she admitted. “But you would need my assistance first.”
“Would I now?”
“Yes.”
“What ways?”
Cally smiled again. “One you might enjoy – others you might find extremely painful.”
“Well, I’m all for scientific progress,” said Avon, “and we could be in this cell for a hell of a long time. Try me.”
She sat up and surveyed him, resting her chin on her hand. “Pleasure or pain, Avon?”
He grinned at her. “Your choice.”
***