Lemuria by Burt Clinchandhill (most popular novels of all time .txt) 📗

been keen on working with her, experimenting on her development. “If I am to work with you on this experiment, I need you to help me with something.”

Dr. Ahlström sighed and leaned back into her chair. “I’m not sure if I can help you, but if I can.”

“That’s all I ask of you.”

“All right then.” Dr. Ahlström handed her the first bag.

Jennifer opened it and took out an orange T-shirt. She brought it to her face and gently sniffed it.

“You need to really dig in, girl.”

“Really?” Jennifer said reluctantly.

The doctor nodded.

“Okay then.” She pushed her face into the shirt and took a big sniff. The doctor pushed a pen and piece of paper toward her as she pulled the shirt away from her face.

“Now, please write down the first words that come to mind.”

Jennifer wrote down a few words while the doctor opened the next bag and handed the next shirt to her.

This time Jennifer was less reluctant and took deep breaths from the shirt. After a few seconds, she put it down and quickly wrote some words. With every shirt, she spent less time sniffing, and with number five, she took only a superficial whiff and put it away and wrote.

“You’re sure that’s enough?” Dr. Ahlström asked.

“I think I’m getting better at this, so yeah, I think I’ve got it.”

“All right. Let’s see what you got then. What do you have with number one?”

Jennifer looked at the paper. “Number one. Sympathetic, loving, caring, friend, as in someone I feel I could be friends with.”

The doctor smiled. “The first shirt was worn by Bjorn Daniels, who won the Abraham Horwitz Humanitarian Award last year for his work with homeless people in the United States.”

“Smells like a nice guy.”

“Okay, the second one?”

“The second one. Yes, brrr.” She shook her shoulders. “I felt fear—my fear, not his or hers—anger, but also despair.”

“That one belonged to a man whose name I don’t know. He is a convicted felon who sits on death row somewhere in Texas. That’s two for two. Number three?”

“That one puzzled me. I wrote ‘warm, a bit scary and confusing at the same time.’”

Dr. Ahlström laughed out loud. “That doesn’t surprise me at all.”

“What is it?”

“This one”—the doctor picked up the white shirt—“belonged to Dembe. He refused to wear any color other than white.”

“Dembe?” Jennifer asked.

“Yes, I’m sorry.” She couldn’t stop laughing. “Dembe is a chimpanzee.”

Jennifer frowned, and then grinned. “That explains it. Apes always scare me a bit.”

“But you’re still doing great. Two more to go.”

“Yes, the fourth one gave me a scare. I found it hard to write it in a single word, but fear was the first word that came to mind. I also felt great despair and anger. This one I wanted to put away as fast as I could, yet I also felt sympathetic.”

Dr. Ahlström nodded. “I understand. This one was worn by a woman who had terminal cancer. She died shortly after wearing the shirt.”

“Oh, my God,” Jennifer uttered.

“I’m sorry. We looked for people with strong divergent emotions to get the best results possible from our experiment. And I must say I’m amazed as to how your observations are spot-on. Only one more to go.”

“Okay, let’s get this over with. All these different emotions and explanations make me kind of nauseous. For the final one, I wrote ‘danger, distrust, doubt, vulnerable.’”

“Okay.” The doctor bit her lip. “That’s a good one, I guess. For this last one, I asked our benefactor, Eldin Mulder, to donate a shirt worn for two days.”

Jennifer’s face flushed. “So, what does that mean?”

“Don’t worry. It only means I’ll have to choose my words carefully when writing my daily report. I’ll be discrete.”

“Thank you.”

“Not a problem. I know how he can sometimes get, and there’s no need to um... let’s say, stimulate one of his moods.”

“Thanks again.” Jennifer folded her hands in front of her face. “Now, about that favor.”

“Yes, what can I do for you?”

“Dr. Ahlström—Cotrina—you must be aware of me being kept here against my will.” Jennifer paused for a long moment to wait for a reaction, but none came. “Don’t get me wrong. Everyone is very kind, and it looks like I have all the freedom I need, but there’s nowhere to go, and I’m not allowed to contact anyone. You are the only one I can sort of trust, and I sense that you’re a decent person with integrity. I mean, surely you can’t condone Eldin Mulder’s behavior in this?”

Dr. Ahlström thought for a moment. Every now and then—since she joined Mulder’s endeavor four years ago—she felt her work was on the edge of morality. And though she knew Mulder well enough to know he was a good man, she also noticed that of late, his drive blurred his vision. “He’s doing what he does to benefit mankind,” she replied.

“Do you know why I am having these experiences, these heightened senses? I mean, is it really a side effect of the modified G2 quiescent stem cells, or is it because of something else? Did something else happen to me?” While asking, she tried to focus her senses on the doctor.

“What do you mean?”

Jennifer felt a sincere question. “In the hospital, they injected modified stem cells into my brain, which could account for the re-growth of my Jacobson’s organ. Another explanation could be there was something else added.”

“Something else?” the doctor asked.

“Something Mulder may have discovered out here on one of his expeditions. He told me that this expedition is about discovering how evolution works. I guess the big question is: what is he trying to do with the information acquired? What is he really trying to do or prove, and how far is he willing to go to prove it?”

“I’m not sure I can help you there,” the doctor replied. “I don’t know how, or with what, you were treated. I wasn’t there when you got the procedure. I only know that Mulder cares for you as more than just a test subject. I hope that you