Altered States by Paul J. Newell Read Free Book Online

to speak with an unusual pace and tone.
    ‘It’s just that it’s interesting to know ... why we do the things we do. And how sometimes we manage to justify to ourselves actions which we know at some level to be wrong. Like maybe we speed in a restricted zone, but we tell ourselves it’s okay because it’s really late ; there’s no one around. And we know the road well. It’s like an acquaintance , so it’s fine. It’s fine to go beyond the limit .’
    I placed particular emphasis on certain words and parts of words, prompting his subconscious to stitch together a subtextual meaning.
    ‘So all the time, when we do these bad things, we are prob ing our minds, penetrating our thoughts, until we touch on a loop hole that will allow us to do these things we like and escape the immorality.’
    As I continued to fold the massively layered suggestions into the metaphor Burch stood virtually motionless but responded with almost imperceptible twitches of affirmation.
    ‘So there really is only one question left,’ I stated in conclusion. ‘Will you do it again?’
    In an instant the man was composed and laughing at me foolishly.
    ‘What are you talking about, man?’ he jibed.
    To anyone but a handful of people in the world, that was a perfect transition. The telltale micro-expression would have passed everyone else by unnoticed. But not me. Just for that split second it was written on his face as clearly as his five-o’clock shadow. And now that his misdemeanours were playing wholly on his conscious mind, all I need do was repeat the question – just to be sure.
    ‘ Will you do it again?’
    This time he said nothing, just frowned at me as if I was a madman – spot on there I guess – and shook his head in confusion. But once again a tiny twitch of a face muscle belied his inner feelings. That was all I needed. I cracked open the fatal capsule that was nestled in my palm, then left the bar without wasting another word.
    Within thirty-seconds of being in the street I knew exactly what I was going to do next and it started with me repeatedly kicking a nearby wall in frustration. I chose this symbolic gesture of head-banging rather than the real thing as it carried with it significantly less risk of cranial haemorrhaging. A good tip by anyone’s standards.
    Then I made my way back to the bar. Burch didn’t have time to know what hit him. He was halfway towards the door by the scruff of his throat before he was going for his holster; at which point he noticed his gun sitting on the bar where I’d dumped it, getting further and further out of reach. The clientele didn’t seem too perturbed at me dragging him out of the establishment, just slightly disappointed that it wasn’t going to kick off inside for their own titillation.
    He was still struggling to find his feet when we reached the street. I gave him a quick elbow to the face to pacify him and then shoved two fingers down his throat. The small quantity of vomit that didn’t actually find its way up my sleeve splashed into the gutter. When he was done I dropped him to the ground.
    ‘If you feel a bit faint in the next few hours,’ I said, ‘eat some chocolate.’
    I crouched down close to his flushed face.
    ‘Maybe reconsider your life choices – in case I’m ever back in this neighbourhood.’ I stepped over him as he lay panting and shell-shocked in the gutter. As I walked away I added, ‘And don’t try to find me. I don’t exist. Not in your world.’
    Then I was gone into the darkness, like some clandestine crime-fighter, dressed all in black, with bad-guy vomit up his arm.
    Maybe it would change him. Probably not. But I proved to myself once again that I couldn’t do it. Couldn’t take a life on my own say-so. Whatever bad he had done and whatever bad he may do in the future. It just didn’t feel right. I figured that was a healthy thing.
    But now I was back to square one.
    Almost.

Six
     
    Truth or Care
     
     
     
    Conner was delighted to