The Hackers
by A. M. Johnson
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Table of Contents parts: 1, 2, 3 |
part 1
“So, Mrs... Emily Turner,” said Dr. Brown, “what is the reason for your visit with me today?” He sat calmly in an overstuffed armchair, tablet on his lap and stylus poised in midair.
“Well,” Emily began, looking anxious, “some things have happened to me recently. Things I can’t explain.” She paused.
“Go on,” he urged.
“I think that maybe I’m going crazy,” she said, almost in a whisper.
Dr. Brown smiled indulgently. “We don’t use that word here,” he said softly. “It’s such a loaded word. Can we agree to say something else, like maybe, I may not be thinking logically? ‘Crazy’ sounds like a permanent status, but I assure you, most people are just experiencing periods of poor logic and reasoning. And that’s fixable.”
Emily nodded. “Sure. I may not be thinking logically.”
“Excellent,” Dr Brown said. “We’re already making progress. Now, why don’t you tell me when you first noticed these things you can’t explain.”
Emily thought for a moment. “It all started when I adopted a dog and a cat. That was two months ago.”
Dr. Brown made a few taps with his stylus on the tablet, nodding.
Emily sighed. “You see, I live alone.”
More taps with the stylus.
“I have always loved animals, but my parents were allergic to everything, so I never had a pet.”
“Not even a fish?” Dr. Brown inquired, looking at his beautiful four-foot tall aquarium in the corner of his office.
“No,” she replied, “not even a fish.”
Tap tap tap. “Please continue,” Dr. Brown said, looking up with a smile.
“OK.” She looked at her hands folded neatly in her lap. “I decided I wanted a pet, and I went to the shelter and filled out the application, and the man at the desk asked me if I was interested in a dog or cat or rabbit, and I told him I didn’t know. I said I would know when I saw the animal that was right for me. So he looked over my paperwork and asked me some questions and then we went to the adoption area. I saw them right away and I just knew.”
Dr. Brown paused his stylus in midair. “How did you know?” he asked.
Emily shook her head. “Not sure,” she said. “There they were and my heart just kind of pounded for a few seconds. Like, with all the different animals there, I was just instantly attracted to these two.” Emily paused and brought out her cell phone.
“Here they are,” she said, holding out the phone for Dr. Brown to see the picture.
Dr. Brown took the phone and looked carefully. “It looks like an Australian shepherd mix and an orange tabby,” he said noncommittally. “Do they get along okay?”
“Oh yes!” Emily exclaimed. “That’s probably what drew me to them. They were snuggled up in a kennel, and the staff told me they were a bonded pair that must be adopted together. I hadn’t really planned on adopting two animals but, once I saw them, I knew they needed me. Staff said they had been there for a couple of months already.” Emily paused again to take back her cell phone and place it in her handbag.
“Go on,” urged Dr. Brown, ready again with the stylus.
Emily took a deep breath. “I asked the staff person why they had been there so long, and he said that, while there were several who had expressed an interest, these two just would not warm up to anyone. He said that when they were placed in a visitation room with someone, they just huddled in the corner and wouldn’t come out. He said they had been brought to the shelter after their previous owner died. He was a wealthy guy, and he made this big donation in his will with the caveat that they could only be adopted together to a person that they seemed to like and feel comfortable with. So they had just been there, waiting.”
Dr. Brown nodded as he tapped.
“When I got to the visitation room, they both came right up to me,” Emily said, smiling. “The cat, whose name is Mr. Fluffybutt, walked right up and started rubbing around on my legs. And the dog, she’s called Sheila, she sat at my feet and put out her paw.
“I shook her paw and petted her and petted Mr. Fluffybutt, and the shelter manager came in and was all happy and said, ‘Finally, these sweet babies have their forever home,’ and it was like this big party there at the shelter. Everyone was so glad they could finally get adopted.”
Emily paused again, smiling. Dr. Brown waited.
“Being alone so much,” Emily said haltingly, her voice laden with emotion, “I kind of forgot what it’s like to love and care for another being. How fulfilling it is.” A tear slowly crept down her cheek. She was still smiling.
“I lost my husband and baby five years ago in a car accident,” Emily said. “Of course, it was devastating, and I don’t guess I’ll ever get over it entirely. But having these two in my life has been so wonderful! They give me purpose.”
She paused again. “They give me so much more than that, too.”
Dr. Brown looked up. “Would you care to elaborate?”
Emily wiped the tear and sat for a moment, silent. “This is where it gets weird,” she said matter-of-factly.
Dr. Brown sat up in his chair and adjusted the tablet. “You have my full attention,” he said, stylus poised.
“OK,” said Emily, taking another deep breath and letting it out slowly. “Sheila and Mr. Fluffybutt adjusted quickly to my home. They acted like it was the most comfortable place in the world, never hid or tried to run away when the door was opened.
“I have a big back yard, and I grow lots of vegetables and flowers, but I don’t have a fence. They never wander off of the property, and Sheila kind of walks the perimeter like she’s guarding it. I mean, they settled right in like they had been there all their lives.”
Dr. Brown nodded and tapped.
“About a week after I brought them home, I went to feed Sheila. I buy her that fresh dog food, you know, that you have to keep in the fridge. I pulled it out and started opening it, and I heard this little voice in my head. It said, ‘Bad. Won’t eat.’ I looked around, but of course there was no one there but Sheila and Mr. Fluffybutt. So I opened it, started spooning it into her bowl thinking what the hell is wrong with me, and sure enough, in the middle it had started to grow mold.” Emily stopped and waited.
Dr. Brown made a few taps and looked up. “Is it possible you subconsciously noticed a bad smell or something? Maybe the voice in your head was your own voice pointing out that it smelled off?”
Emily shook her head vehemently. “No,” she said, “it wasn’t even opened yet. It was brand new. And even after it was opened, it didn’t smell bad to me until I got to the moldy part.”
Dr. Brown thought for a moment. “You think that perhaps Sheila told you that the food was bad?” he asked in the most noncommittal voice he could muster.
Emily nodded. “Yes,” she said. “But that’s just the beginning. It gets worse.”
Dr. Brown made a few vigorous taps. “Tell me more.”
“Okay,” she said, shifting in her chair. “A few days later I was working in the vegetable garden, and Mr. Fluffybutt was with me. Sheila was doing that perimeter-guarding thing, but Mr. Fluffybutt loves to be in the garden with me. I was pulling weeds, and I left my gloves in the garden shed, but I do a lot of gardening barehanded. I like my hands in the dirt, you know?
“So I was on my knees pulling weeds and this little voice in my head says, ‘Snake.’ I’ve never had a snake in my garden, ever. But that voice kind of startled me, so I got up and walked to the shed and got the garden hoe.
“When I went back to the same spot, Mr. Fluffybutt was crouched about six feet away near the English peas. He did a big pounce and then there was a snake writhing around hanging out of his mouth. It wasn’t a big one, but it was a water moccasin, probably from the pond that’s in the greenspace behind my yard. Mr. Fluffybutt killed it and brought it over to me. He just kinda dropped it at my feet.”
Dr. Brown tapped and tapped. He looked up. “You’d never had a snake in the garden before?”
“No.”
Tap tap tap. “But you are aware that ponds often have water moccasins, and you have such a pond behind your home?”
“Yes.”
Tap tap tap.
“Could you have noticed it subconsciously?”
Emily shook her head. “I didn’t see it until Mr. Fluffybutt pounced on it.”
Dr. Brown waited expectantly. Emily shifted in her chair and continued. “Right then, Sheila came running up, and she kinda barked under her breath, like a ruff sound. I heard the little bark, but in my head a voice said, ‘Mr. Fluffybutt killed a snake!’ Shelia was nosing around the snake a little, and Mr. Fluffybutt looked at her, and in my head I heard, ‘Sheila must guard better.’”
Dr. Brown paused his tapping and looked at Emily.
Emily nodded. “I know how it sounds,” she said. “But that’s what happened. Sheila was like, offended by Mr. Fluffybutt saying that, too. She pouted for a good hour.”
“What makes you think she was pouting,” Dr. Brown asked after several furious taps.
“She went and sat under a tree and wouldn’t come when I called her. Not even for a treat.”
Tap, tap, tap.
“What happened then?” he asked.
“After Sheila finally came over, we went inside and I sat down on the couch. They both just sat down right in front of me and were staring at me. I looked at them, and then I said: ‘Can you both understand me?’ The answer was instantaneous. I heard two little voices say, ‘Yes.’
“I just sat there thinking, how is this possible? And this little voice, Mr. Fluffybutt, said, ‘Not all can hear us. You can hear us, so we picked you.’ Then Sheila’s little voice said, ‘We can help.’
I was so overwhelmed that I just sat there looking at them for the longest time. And they just looked back at me with their big sweet eyes. I thought I must be cra—, I mean, not thinking logically.”
Dr. Brown tapped a few more taps, then contemplated for a moment before posing a question. “Have these voices that you attribute to Mr. Fluffybutt and Sheila told you to do anything?”
Emily nodded. “Oh yes. They tell me to do things all the time.”
Dr. Brown nodded. “What kinds of things do they tell you to do?” he asked, stylus poised.
“Well,” said Emily, searching her memory, “they’ve told me to go certain places and to stay away from others. One day when I brought home the groceries, they told me not to eat certain things I’d bought. And they told me to stay away from one of my neighbors.”
Dr. Brown’s tapping became quite vigorous for a few seconds, then he paused. “Have they told you to do anything violent? Illegal? Dangerous?”
Emily considered. “No,” she said with conviction.
Dr. Brown nodded. “And what do you think the voice meant when it said ‘We can help’? How have they helped?”
“You mean, other than keeping me from being snakebit? Not sure. They help me not be so lonely.” Emily looked at Dr. Brown. “That’s pretty big in itself. Also, it feels like something has been opened up inside me. I can hear some other animals speaking, too. Not all of them, but I guess I’m hearing the ones that don’t mind being heard, maybe they want to be heard. Whatever the case, Mr. Fluffybutt and Sheila changed me for the better.”
Dr. Brown nodded. “Alright, Mrs. Turner,” he said briskly, tapping with his stylus as he spoke. “I am writing a prescription for some medication that should calm the voices. I would like to see you once a week for a while to make certain the medication is working. Is that acceptable?”
Emily nodded.
“My preliminary diagnosis would be schizophrenia, adult onset, but of course I will need to review the health history you completed for me, and see you several more times to determine if that is, in fact, what is going on here. Please don’t be alarmed. It’s actually much more common than people realize, and quite treatable.” Dr. Brown smiled.
“Alright,” Emily said, picking up her handbag and standing.
Dr. Brown also stood and walked Emily to the door, passing right by the lovely aquarium. Emily paused, looking at the assortment of colorful fish. She turned to Dr. Brown.
“They’re hungry,” she said.
Dr. Brown smiled. “I assure you they are not hungry. My maintenance man feeds them each morning. I’ve had aquariums my whole life, and I pride myself on taking excellent care of the fish. Fish are actually quite fascinating, you know.”
Emily looked back at the aquarium and sighed. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I tried.”
As Emily walked out of the office, Dr. Brown returned to his overstuffed chair, where he completed his notes and began to prepare for his next client. The voice of his assistant came over the intercom.
“Hey, doc,” said Vera, “Scott just called. He forgot to feed the fish this morning. He said he’s really sorry and hopes it’s not going to hurt them to be fed this late in the day.”
Dr. Brown looked at the intercom, silent for a moment. What an odd coincidence, he thought. “Thanks, Vera, I’ll take care of it. Tell him it should be fine this time.”
* * *
Copyright © 2022 by A. M. Johnson
