Unfurl by Cidney Swanson Read Free Book Online

threshold, and closed the door behind him. I could just barely make out the sound of an electronic click, like from the card–swipe Sir Walter had used on the file drawers.
    Mon Dieu, said Sir Walter. Let us return at once to your sister. I would speak with her concerning our encounter with Pfeffer.
    Wait a sec— , I wrote. We’re just going to let him walk off, without demanding an explanation?
    My dear Will, the man whom you have just beheld is no longer a man with whom it would be safe for you to speak. Pfeffer is working for my cousin.

Excerpted from the personal diary of Girard L’Inferne.
    Circa 1998
    My little school delights me.
    The children exceed my expectations. Even without the aid of hypnotic suggestion, they beg to be allowed such privileges as the donation of blood plasma, bone marrow, and even their tiny allowances to aid those in need. I saw a boy whose shoes were worn through the sole. When I asked him why he had not exchanged them for new ones, his answer silenced me.
    “I sent my new shoes to a village where children have none,” he said. Then he showed me how he had cleverly inserted a piece of cardboard to cover the hole in his shoe. “I need only replace this every week, and another child like me can have shoes for the first time in his life.”
    The angelic smile which accompanied this remark would melt the heart of the veriest reprobate in hell.
    This time, I shall succeed.

Chapter Nine
----
    FATE OF THE WORLD
    · SAM ·
    After requesting that I make an egg donation, Hans left the room. I needed time to think, he said. Which was the first completely rational thing I’d heard since arriving. I needed time, certainly, but how I wished I had Sir Walter, or Mickie, or Will to consult with before making my decision.
    My mind drifted to Christian. Could I contact him? I closed my eyes. Christian ! I called. Suddenly, I regretted that I hadn’t spent more time trying to build up my ability to converse mind–to–mind with Christian. He’d explained it was as simple as strengthening a muscle. Which I’d ignored. I didn’t want to hear him any better at night, and I sure as heck didn’t want him listening to my thoughts. But now, my reluctance looked foolish. Christian ? I called out once more.
    I heard only silence. I was alone. I had to figure this out by myself.
    So, where was the truth in all of the things Hans had told me?
    If I gave Helmann one of my eggs, disgusting though it sounded, would he stop his intended decimation of the world? If what Hans told me was true, it sounded like a simple trade–off.
    But something bothered me about it. And until I could navigate to the core of that unease, I couldn’t make a decision. Meanwhile, the clock ticked. Hans had called our meal together breakfast. If I was indeed in San Francisco, and if Hans could travel swiftly when rippled, then I’d arrived here at maybe 7:00 in the morning. Breakfast had been somewhere around 8:00. Which made sense, because no way would my dad sleep in past 8:00 even though we’d all been up ‘til 2:00. I had maybe ten hours ‘til my parents expected me back home again.
    Ten hours in which to decide the fate of the world.
    But I didn’t actually know if I would truly be deciding the fate of billions. I didn’t know if Hans was telling the truth.
    Another knock on the door.
    I sat up, alert.
    A woman entered, bowed with hands in a position I’d seen on Sylvia’s yoga DVDs.
    “ Namasté ,” she said. “I am Indira. I am instructed to ask if you wish for a massage? I can provide any style you like: Swedish, relaxation, deep tissue—”
    “A massage?” I raised both eyebrows. “Seriously?”
    Her expression remained calm as she awaited my answer.
    “Um, no,” I said. “I don’t need a massage.”
    She bowed again, palms together, and exited.
    Okay, that was weird.
    I tried to gather my thoughts back together. What did I know about Helmann?
    One: He’d experimented on his own kids. I had the journal