Gloria walked in and sat in the chair next to me, even closer to the door, as if she was going to escape the moment it was over. I did not behave very well in the crowd, and more than two dozen people have already taken their chairs. Their various uniforms show that they only have a few hours of work to complete this training.
Gloria breathed a sigh of relief when she saw me, with a slight smile on her face. Her eyes are bright amber, her lips are full, and her hair is cut very close to her head. This is a preference she left behind when she was a soldier. "you are still alive."
"Please tell me you did not foresee this," I said.
Gloria's face was pinched, and I worried that she might not realize that I was joking. Of course she didn't see Eve cutting off my head. Her job is not to look at me. If it is, I will not blame her for it.
She opened the sketchbook and selected a page in the middle. Since her birth in February, she has filled the 1,000-page university campus. Obviously, she is too busy at work. What she showed me was a shocking rendering of charcoal depicting a person. This disturbingly lifelike portrait features long, fluffy hair, protruding eyes, wide mouth and sharp chin. She painted Gabriel, both of them are beautiful and have wings.
"I have been drawing him for several days," she explained, and put her hand on top of the photo, as if she could feel the heat from it. She repositioned the sketchbook and turned a few pages. "Every time I try to see you, he is everything to me. I want to know if the danger has passed, but he is by your side." She gestured towards the painting.
My understanding is that remote viewing is like clairvoyance - viewers see pictures of what is in their heads, but remote viewers can do more than just watch. Somehow, they can continue to "enter" the vision, or ask questions in a different way to get a few pictures.
Gloria uses her skills to find missing children, and sometimes she observes the same child a dozen times remotely. Every time she gets something new: a house, a landmark, a suggestive sound like water or a train. All these clues are used to locate a location. This is why it usually takes some time, sometimes a week or more, to do a comprehensive reading and organize all the articles.
She recorded this information on the spiral decorative board of the birth gift I gave her. Before that, she took some creepy photos—all of them—like a lunatic.
"Strange." I said, trying to avoid any angel's conversation.
A few pages of the sketchbook fell forward, and a painting caught my attention. I snatched the book from her in order to better observe the pine trees surrounding a small clearing. In this photo, I stand on the edge of the clearing, half hidden in the pine forest, as if I dare not go further. I know that place.
"When did you draw this?"
"A few months ago," she said, turning the pages of the book. Next is an unfinished door, centered above the porch.
So this is the future, not the past.
I burst out laughing. Not haha funny, but hysterical, like a lunatic. Several heads turned to me.
"What is this?" Gloria asked.
"That is my mother's house," I said. "You can't pay me to go back."
"Why don't you want to go?" She leaned forward in the chair.
"It's very complicated," I muttered, looking down at my unmatched pair of shoes.
Gloria's eyes were dull again, allowing them to see that I was communicating with the universe—leave a message. "But he... ... "
"You may be wrong," I said, hoping she could understand the hint and give up the hint. I don't like to talk about my family.
Gloria is not very good at reading necromancers, especially agents. I think it is because the flow of time fluctuates around us, because of the rise-death cycle of the mold we make. Because we are always disturbing the magnetic field, it is difficult for her to follow what she calls "threads".
"He is everything to me." She pointed to Gabriel's picture again, but there were some things I didn't quite understand in her expression. Maybe it was insecurity, although I never knew that Gloria was insecure about anything. She is an amazing. So she has no reason to doubt her ability-even if I am an erudite person.
Dr. York clapped his hands, trying to get our attention, and then stuffed them into the pocket of his lab coat. "I want to welcome everyone. I know most of you are here because your employer needs it. Anyway, I hope you find this information interesting and useful. Our program is divided into two parts: one about 0 Minutes of short video, followed by a question and answer, an actual death substitute agent."
Everyone sat in their seats and looked around eagerly. It's like a game of who is the zombie? Slowly, all eyes are on me. I. I started to panic. How do they know that I did it? No one had ever guessed about me, and then I remembered. News report after Yves attack. A partial beheading, suddenly everyone knew who I was.
Dr. York killed half of the lights, ending the painful gaze contest. Slowly, their eyes turned to the video, flashing montages of healthcare professionals, law enforcement officers, and school teachers.
Allie rushed into the room, apologized to Doctor York, and handed me a Starbucks cup. Doctor York smiled patiently and graced her, motioning her to sit down. I pulled the chair to the other side of me, the farthest point from the door.
"Death substitution is the greatest scientific discovery of the 21st century," said a doctor wearing Coke bottle glasses in the video. His eyes were magnified by the thick lenses, and they looked twice the average size. He has a habit of licking his lips between two words with his tongue. "NRD opened a Pandora's box for neuroscientists."
I am very angry. "Yes, please equate us with all the legends of how suffering entered the world."
The announcer continued, "Not everyone with NRD chooses to be a death surrogate. Most people are afraid to announce their status to their community because of discrimination and possible violence."
I am dozing off. Allie gave me an elbow. I sat up reluctantly and focused on the TV. A beautiful blonde teacher appeared. The camera filmed her classroom and zoomed in on her, explaining the lesson as she wrote on the blackboard. The children sit on the chairs, their hands neatly folded together. Obviously, this is acting.
The video below is hers again, after death, and tortured by the dead body. She moved forward with the shuffle, and most of the replacement agents were before good friction and steam.
"I know this can be scary," the teacher said. Her neck twisted to one side strangely, and her face was pale and bloody. "But I am completely harmless."
"Oh, please, this is not muscular dystrophy," I said. "She just needs a bath." That woman doesn't have to be that way, that's why she pulled the sympathy card to make me angry.
Several people glanced at me, and Allie squeezed my leg. Dr. York is one of them.
A social worker speaks now. A child is standing next to him. "Most of their families reject them. They cannot adapt to the adjustment of raising a child with special needs."
Ellie leaned over to me and spoke in a low voice. "Are there any special needs for necromantic kids? As long as you don't kill them, they are no different."
I smiled at her, but the necromantic children and their families were already in my mind.
"Sometimes, for safety reasons, children must be driven out of the house. A child who can be tortured to death and then resurrected will attract the wrong adoptive parents."
This video is a parting photo of a mother who discovered her 6-year-old daughter who was believed to have died after drowning in the river. "I'm glad she is still alive," she shouted. "This is a miracle."
Let me tell you, my mother doesn't view the news in this way. Yes, when I woke up from my first death, I found that Brinkley's recruiters were very good, and I did make the last call to my mother. I do not know why. I think I hope that since her child molestation husband is dead, maybe I can repair my relationship with her. Maybe she would even thank me for saving her from a perverted husband, because maybe she was too scared to kick him to the side of the road in person. I am willing to forgive her for everything, as long as I can return to her and Danny.
My daughter is dead.
I even thought she might be confused and sad, thinking I was a prank. So I told her all this: NRD, my rebirth, and I don't have to be an agent right away. If I want to, I can go home and finish my studies. Brinkley threatened that if I did not work for him as soon as possible, I would be exposed as an arsonist and a murderer, but I still have time.
My mother is not confused.
"Stop calling, Fan Fan."
When the film of the movie flickered on the black screen, the light came on. A few people applauded, so I applauded too, telling Ally to stop elbowing my ribs. Dr. York restored his position on the front line. I knew I was going to speak soon, and my stomach started to twitch. I moved my seat on the seat and suddenly felt uncomfortable.
Dr. York broke the silence. "Does anyone have any questions about the video before we hand it over to our guests?" Dr. York surrendered during this pause. "Allow me to introduce Captain Gloria Jackson." Dr. York gestured for us to sit with him in the front of the room. (To be continued) (End of this chapter)