Psion Gamma by Jacob Gowans Page A

helps us feel alive. You probably don’t know much about pain. But you’re here, so I’ll teach you.”
    As the wet dot on Sammy’s skin began to warm, Stripe lectured about the different nerve endings in Sammy’s hand and how they communicated with his brain. All Sammy heard were bits of words like pacinian, spinothalamic, and cortex. Normally his hyper-intelligent brain would have picked up everything instantly, but the tiny dot on his skin had grown uncomfortably warm, as if it were too close to a candle.
    “Let me ask you a theoretical question. What if some brilliant researcher isolated a molecule that could duplicate the effect of temperature change on nerve receptors? The possibilities are endless!” Stripe exclaimed these last words in a rapturous voice. Then he got unnaturally close to Sammy’s face again. His cinnamon breath permeated Sammy’s entire being. The twisted scar on his lip filled Sammy’s vision. “And, you see, here’s one amazing discovery: a person can feel it without any damage to the skin. No death from dehydration . . . even when you experience such intense heat that your skin should be burning off your bones.”
    Intense pain blazed through the spot on Sammy’s hand. He gasped sharply, groaning through gritted teeth.
    “It’s okay to scream. I know how badly this is going to hurt—curiosity got the best of me. Do you see this red tube?” he asked, holding it up for his prisoner to see.
    Sammy opened his eyes and nodded quickly.
    “Fire. It’s what you’re going through now. Do you see this one?” He held up an identical blue tube. “Ice. It makes it all go away, you see. You know how to get the ice, don’t you?”
    Sammy closed his eyes tight so he would not answer Stripe’s question. He tried to push the pain out of his mind. He wanted to grab hold of anything that would take his mind off the blistering heat on his hand, but everything he thought of slipped away, leaving only pain. Blinding pain. He wanted to yell and scream and thrash unabashedly. But he wouldn’t allow himself to, even if he couldn’t stop tears from leaking out of his eyes.
    Wait for your opportunity to escape. DO NOT SHOW WEAKNESS! he ordered himself in a voice that sounded much like Byron’s.
    Immeasurable time passed and eventually the pain subsided. Sammy could open his eyes now. Stripe had stopped spinning and was now watching him with his immaculate teeth bared and an unreadable look in his gray eyes.
    “Impressive,” he said. Sammy wasn’t sure if Stripe was grinning or grimacing. “Not a peep. But remember two things when you go to your room tonight. Number one, that was a very very very tiny little drop on your hand. What if I rubbed it all up your arm? On your ears? On your lips? And number two, you’ve only met fire. I have other tubes. Enough to keep us busy for a long time.”
    Stripe dragged out the word long as his eyes bored into Sammy’s, waiting to see if he would break.
    “No one ever holds out. In the end, I always win. ALWAYS. Maybe that’s why I like the game so much.” He gave Sammy a slight touch on the shoulder. “Have a nice rest.”
    After Stripe left, two different Aegis with guns took Sammy into the same room he’d glanced into minutes or hours (or maybe days?) earlier. They left him no opportunity to venture an attack. The young girl with dark hair in the corner was asleep. The men secured his neck to the wall with a chain and checked his arm and leg restraints. After they left, he either passed out or fell asleep.
    His rest was fitful. It didn’t seem long before he woke to the sound of the girl being taken from the room in the same fashion that Sammy had been brought in. He watched them go, the girl crying as she was led away, probably to the same room with the black door. His mind raked over his situation for a long time, more than he could keep track of. But then he fell asleep once more. When he woke for the second time, the girl was crying again.
    “Are