The story so far:

Our saga began when The Awesome Lavratt, an artifact recently discovered on Kvarat One, believed to be a brainwave amplifying device, was acquired by Aranna Navna, with the help of Horace Whistlestop, a junk dealer on the outer rim. She took Horace with her either because she loved him, found him useful, or both. Aranna used the Lavratt to manipulate the thoughts of those around her in order to control whole worlds. He went mad trying to stop her. She dumped him off at an insane asylum. Then the Lavratt turned the tables on her. "He" invaded her dreams and brought her, through mind control, back to Kvarat One. He has been taken to a lab for study and she has been incarcerated for her crimes. She is the only one who knows the Lavratt's true nature.

 

Will she languish in prison? Will he retake his throne by reaching out from his little black box? Read on to find out. And remember…all puns are intended. J

 

 

Vicarious experience takes on a whole new meaning…

 

 

All the inmates chattered through their bars to one another. None of them appeared menacing. Aranna looked them over, wondering if any of them was planning a break.

The only light, in her three-meter-square cell, came from a skylight about five meters above the ceiling grate. She had a cot, a sink and a toilet. No privacy, even for that. Great.

The female guard brought her a change of clothes and stood there watching while Aranna stripped. Aranna hoped there wouldn't be any cavity searches. She shivered under the short woman's stare and from the cold of the cell. The guard collected her clothing and left without a word. Aranna grabbed the dingy white pants and tunic. No socks. Just a pair of ratty slippers.

The dark, bearded guy in the cell opposite had been watching. Aranna hadn't met his gaze and the guy didn't speak until she flopped onto the cot and pulled the covers up to her chin.

“What's the deal? You criminal? Political? Or just framed?” he asked.

“I don't remember telling you I wanted to chat,” she said.

“Hey. Suit yourself. You'll get pretty bored in here, you don't talk to someone. You'll end up talking to yourself. Name's Gliddy. If you change your mind, you know where to find me.”

Aranna turned to the wall. She had no intentions of being there long enough to care who he was or why he was there. If he started talking jailbreak, then she'd listen.

 

Aranna! Wake up.

She must have fallen asleep. The cell was dark, no one was talking. She only heard heavy breathing and snores.

She thought it must have been the guard's voice at first. Then she realized it wasn't audible. Tyrantz.

What do you want? I thought you no longer cared what happened to me, she thought at him.

I don't. But you seem to be the only person I can reach at the moment. Everyone else is asleep. I'm bored. I can't sleep, remember?

Aranna pulled herself up. Maybe she could convince him to help her after all. Too bad. I don't suppose you'd consider letting me go back to sleep?

Wouldn't you rather visit my world again? Has to be better than that cell, he thought at her.

You have a point. Okay, tell me how you wound up in the box.

Without delay, she was once more in his memories, seeing his world through his eyes. They were back at the lab. “Karg, how many more tests do we need to run?" he asked a small bald man. "According to my physician, my higher functions may deteriorate at any time.”

“Only three more, sire. We only get one shot at this. I'm sure you understand. I want to make absolutely sure nothing has been missed.”

“Yes, yes. Don't labor over it too much or I'll be passed reasoning or caring. We'll never know if it would have worked after I thrown you out."

“Yes, sire.”

Damn yes-men. Everywhere I turn. What I wouldn't give for an honest response. Well, soon enough, I'll know the things they aren't saying. Too bad I can't interface with it now, while I'm still walking, talking and breathing.

Tyrantz looked at the cube, opened on one end with wires hooked up to sensors on Karg's work bench. A chill ran through him as he thought about his mind being transferred into that small box. Never to experience the five senses directly again. The trade off was the sixth sense. The ability to read and even control the minds of others. He would know their fears, their plots, their desires. He could manipulate them. Mold them. Shape them to do his bidding. Kvarat One would be in his capable, immortal, yet not physical, hands. He would put an end to war and famine. To uprisings and protests. They would lay down the rocks and toss rose petals at him instead.

“Is there something else, Sire?” asked Karg, breaking Tyrantz out of his reverie.

“No. I'll let you get on with it. Let me know the instant it's ready.”

“Yes, Sire. You know I will.”

****

Then they were back in that other memory. The one near the end when the device is ready. Tyrantz was strapped to the table but there were several people surrounding the bed, speaking to each other in hushed tones as they busied themselves with instruments hooked up to Tyrantz and the Lavratt.

“Okay, now we have all the feeds secured. We're ready to begin the transfer. Tyrantz, are you still with us?” asked Karg.

He lifted a finger to indicate an affirmative response. He was heavily sedated for the transfer.

“Okay," Karg said to his assistant, "make sure to keep the upload at a steady rate. Begin.”

Everything faded out. The faces, the room, the voices. All sensations ended. Yet somehow, awareness remained. He knew they were still there. He knew that he was being transferred. Slowly, his senses returned. No, they weren't his at all. He felt hands touching something warm and malleable. Trying hard not to shake. Placing the grey mass into a receptacle that connected to the device itself. Then Tyrantz knew he was seeing this, feeling this, through Karg and his assistant who had begun the transfer. From the moment that Karg said ‘begin', Tyrantz had been severed from his ailing body. Castrated. Amputated. In that split second, he had lost his humanity but gained virtual immortality.

He felt the vulnerability and wonder of a baby. That surprised him most of all. He had no conscious frame of reference for these feelings. Could he now remember being a baby or was this just how he imagined it would be?

The scientists cleaned up and removed Tyrantz's mortal coil from the lab. Of course, he couldn't see them. But he could know it through his uncle's thoughts as his uncle entered the room.

His uncle greeted Karg. Spoke to Karg.

“How's our patient? Everything turn out as expected?” And he couldn't hear them either but who speaks without thinking? Don't answer that.

“Yes, my Lord. You have made arrangements for the body, I presume?”

“Yes. The family crypt is yawning in anticipation, Karg. So how do I communicate with my favorite nephew?”

“There is no device. No interface, milord. You just think to…him.” Karg indicated the black box on his workbench.

Not overly impressed by the black box, Yooserp looked into the basin near it. Nestled in superconductive foam, lay his nephew's brain, with wires trailing from it. “Why's this still here?” he asked, pointing.

“In case there are discrepancies, errors or gaps in his memories we still have the original to download from again."

“I see. Mind if we have a moment alone?”

“No, although it isn't necessary. I'm not the one that can read minds. And neither of you will be speaking.”

Yooserp glared at Karg until he acquiesced.

“Now then, Nephew, how are you?” He said this out loud though he didn't need to.

He ‘heard' his uncle's voice as an echo. It was stronger than the other thoughts, perhaps because they were purposefully directed right at the device.

No pain. Everything's fuzzy still. Will improve, I hope, over time. He saw everything through a fog until he learned to access different brain waves around him and isolate them, understand them.

He experienced his uncle's amazement at getting an answer directly in his head. There was something else there. Some other emotion. Raw and dangerous. He backed out before it could overwhelm him.

“So, I will be giving the first statement out tomorrow as planned. Not to worry, Tyrantz, your kingdom is safe in my hands.”

“Our hands.”

“Well, for the time being, anyway, right?”

Then Tyrantz knew that his uncle was playing him. He tasted his avarice. Yooserp had no intention of returning him to his rightful place. He planned to rule in his place. Either as himself or as Tyrantz. Their features were so similar, he might pull it off.

“I can even speak like you, my greedy little nephew. If they want Uncle Yooserp, they shall have him but if what they really want, in spite of themselves, is Tyrantz, miraculously healed and born again into a kind, benevolent ruler wishing to make amends, I can give them that too.”

If Tyrantz had blood, he would feel it running cold. He let his uncle feel his fury.

Meanwhile, in the real world, Aranna gasped at the force of their fury. It ripped her violently back to her cell. To her neighbor across the hall, she had never left. She had just woke up from a bad dream, holding her head and panting.

So you never came into power at all? she asked Tyrantz.

He seethed at her a little before projecting, No. Not for a single day. Before I could manipulate the thoughts of others, Uncle Yooserp had moved me into a disused area of the castle and kept himself well outside the reach of my mental tentacles. He made sure I knew of his triumph before he had the box that  contained my essence, the Awesome Lavratt, buried in an unmarked grave in a common cemetery, where I would wait for archeologists to find me centuries later.

So now what?

Now, I must confess something to you.

There's more?

Since I've been moved further away from you, I can barely read, much less manipulate anyone's thoughts. It seems, my dear that we are linked, you and I. You learned under my tutelage, though you didn't know it, the secrets of the Lavratt. And in the process, our minds have congealed. We have become one through the use of the device. Together, we can do great things. Apart, we are helpless prisoners.