As the water continued going up, Jack rose with it, frantically moving his arms and legs and tilting his head back to keep his face in the small but shrinking pocket of air at the top of the tank. He also still appeared to be screaming for help.
“He’s drowning,” I said flatly.
“Technically, he’s in aquatic distress,” Mouse corrected.
“The main difference,” BT chimed in before I could ask, “is that when you’re in aquatic distress, you can still move your arms and legs voluntarily, as well as call out for help. When you’re drowning, your body employs an automatic reaction known as the instinctive drowning response. When that happens, your arms move out laterally to the side and your head tilts back.”
“And it’s all involuntary,” Mouse added. “You have no conscious control at that point. You can’t even shout for help.”
“That’s not how they show it in the movies and on television,” I protested.
“Then I just don’t understand,” Mouse uttered in mock confusion. “Because they never put anything inaccurate in movies or on TV – it would be like reading something on the internet that wasn’t true.”
I was immediately tempted to give a smart-aleck response, and was on the verge of doing so when BT cut in.
“It’s called ‘dramatic license,’” she said. “Producers and directors portray certain things unrealistically to increase the drama or interest of the audience. But Mouse is right: actual drowning doesn’t involve any flailing about or shouting. Thus, a person could be drowning ten feet from you, and you’d never know it.”
As if giving credence to what I’d just heard, Jack no longer appeared to be calling for aid. His head was tilted back and his arms were out to the side, exactly as BT had explained.
“Now he’s drowning,” Mouse uttered dispassionately.
A few seconds later, there was no air left in the tank and Jack was completely submerged. He seemed to float for a few seconds and then slowly descend. As he did, his mouth opened, releasing a short stream of bubbles. A moment later, his chest expanded, and I cringed, realizing that he was breathing in water. His eyes, still open, began to take on a glassy look.
The attendant scientists abruptly began talking among themselves – hopefully discussing whether to get Jack out. However, the conversation was cut short as Jack, completely soaked, suddenly appeared on the floor in front of them, collapsing to all fours and spewing water from his mouth like a fire hydrant.
He had teleported.
An odd scene then ensued, with the scientists cheering, high-fiving, and otherwise enthusiastically congratulating each other, while Jack – still on his hands and knees – retched his guts out.
Chapter 61
“Okay,” I muttered as Mouse turned the video off. “That was unexpected.”
BT nodded. “As I stated, they had effective methods for developing Jack’s abilities.”
“You mentioned coaxing his powers out,” I corrected. “You made it sound like they gave him a cookie if he did something right. I wasn’t expecting this water torture cell.”
“Their approach was unorthodox,” BT admitted.
“Unorthodox?” I repeated. “Try extreme. What would they do if they wanted him to fly – toss him out of an airplane?”
Mouse and BT exchanged a glance, but neither spoke.
“You’ve got to be joking,” I said. “They threw him out of a plane without a chute?”
“Let’s just say we’ve confirmed that he can fly,” Mouse responded.
Incredulous, I simply shook my head. I took a few moments to get my head back in the game and then said, “Alright, what else you got?”
*****
We spent a little time watching more footage of Jack’s powers (or the attempted development of them). The videos came courtesy of BT, who – as previously mentioned – took in information the way ordinary people breathe air. With clones presumably at the highest levels of government, industry, and academia, there was little she couldn’t find out.
Of the other clips we viewed, the one that drew my attention the most involved an attempt to gauge Jack’s telepathic abilities. This one actually had audio, and essentially involved a female scientist pulling what appeared to be playing cards from a nearby deck. (At a guess, I thought it was the woman Gray had showed me a photo of, but it was difficult to tell without her face being twisted by paroxysms.) Jack, sitting at a table across from her, would attempt to guess which card she held.
More often than not, he failed at the task. This would result in Jack getting angrily berated by the scientist, with each additional failure causing a notable increase in the verbal abuse. At one juncture, she grew so furious and frustrated that she actually leaned across the table and slapped him. The blow was so forceful that it snapped his head to the side, and the sound of it seemed to reverberate in the air long after he’d been struck.
“I’d say that supports the theory that he’s not telepathic,” Mouse commented after we were done viewing that particular video.
“Yeah, but we still don’t know what he’s up to,” I said. “What’s on the next page of his playbook.”
“Maybe nothing,” BT suggested. “Maybe he just blends into the background now. Disappears. If he’s truly a shapeshifter, it should be easy enough.”
“But if that’s the plan, why reach out to Jim?” Mouse asked. “Why show up in Alpha Prime’s mansion? Why go on a date with Vestibule?”
“Li’s theory is that he wants friends,” I offered.
Mouse seemed to consider this for a moment. “It’s possible. I mean, it’s not like his home life was warm and nurturing.”
“And maybe it’s easier for him to form relationships with people who already view him as a comrade,” BT suggested. “Or rather, those who view Jim that way.”
“Perhaps,” Mouse droned,
