A Vision of Fire by Gillian Anderson Read Free Book Online Page A

moment, then said, “One thing I can do for Maanik under hypnosis is guide her into symptom transformation.”
    It took the ambassador a moment to rediscover his voice. “I am not familiar with the term.”
    â€œWe would choose a physical movement such as twitching her finger and associate it with her scratching at her arms. When fully conscious, any self-attack would be preceded by her finger twitching. As she exercised control over her finger she would also shut down the scratching.”
    â€œAn off switch,” he said.
    â€œExactly. It’s one of many useful tools. And please understand, while she is in a trance she retains her power of choice. In hypnosis I am not operating her. We work together.”
    â€œI will certainly keep that in my mind.”
    â€œI appreciate your willingness to hear me out,” Caitlin said. “You may call at any time if the situation changes.”
    â€œDr. O’Hara, I may not have been sufficiently clear earlier about my reasons for caution.”
    â€œNot at all. I can see that you’re in a difficult situation.”
    â€œMany political experts already feel that I am not the best chance for a peaceful and long-term resolution in these negotiations—I am the only chance. That is why radicals on both sides want me out of the way, by any means possible.”
    â€œDoes your daughter know this?”
    â€œShe has made a point of studying the situation,” Ganak said with a hint of pride. “You see, I am descended from the Pawar Rajputs, princes of Kashmir, so we are respected in India. But my family owns land in Gurdaspur near Jammu and Kashmir. It remains highly contested territory for the strategic importance of its road and railway. Because my family has never denied anyone access, the Pakistanis do not entirely mistrust me. So I have become the agent of all voices. There must be no blemishes on my perceived ability to engage fully. Please do not think I would risk my daughter’s well-being—”
    â€œI don’t,” Caitlin replied. “Maanik’s symptoms may not recur and this could just be a posthypnotic echo, but we have to be prepared either way.”
    Ganak sighed. It was not relief exactly but cautious optimism. Tendering further apologies for interrupting her evening, the ambassador said good night.
    Caitlin hung up and tapped a pen on the desk as she stared at her tablet. The fate of the region was on the shoulders of a sixteen-year-old. Perhaps Maanik knew that too.
    After answering work-related e-mails—over two dozen in all—Caitlin was surprised to see that it was nearly midnight. It was past her bedtime but she was halfway through a weekly newsletter summarizing reports of adolescent schizophrenia episodes from around theworld and she wanted to finish. There seemed to be an uptick in the number of references to an “apocalypse” by teenage patients, but Caitlin was wary of seeing trends where there were none. She decided she was just tired and overwrought.
    â€œEnough!” she said, and closed her tablet. She brushed her teeth, washed her face, and got into bed.
    As she lingered between wakefulness and sleep, she had dreamlike visions of smoky waves of red and blue rolling in from the distance, a nightmarish surf, creeping toward her on shapeless fingers, finally oozing and sputtering, throwing off ugly clouds of suffocating dust.
    â€œDad . . .”
    She was looking for him—for someone—but the waves were everywhere, undulating and crashing, rising and engulfing her—
    Caitlin gasped herself awake, surprised to find that two hours had passed. She blinked away the nightmare, looked around at the dark familiarity of her bedroom. She let her head sink back, breathing regularly, easily.
    â€œNight terrors,” she told herself. Everything was normal and right again, the room inside and the sounds outside. Everything—except one thing.
    She was