"They had many different programs in place to sift through children and test them, private schools and clinics like the Pestalozzi Institute, which they also used to educate the Other, if such a term can be used for such an inhuman practice. And there were places like the virtual club called Mister J's—the spot where I first met Renie and !Xabbu—which were a sort of preliminary screening device, meant to sift out the few interesting prospects from the millions of ordinary children. Two of Jongleur's lieutenants were in charge of this project, although Jongleur himself carefully watched over everything."
"Finney and Mudd," Martine said. "The men who chased Paul."
"Yes, although I doubt those were their real names. From what I have seen, they seem to have had a very unsavory background." Sellars frowned for a moment.
"But those children—my brother!" Renie said. "Why are they in comas?"
"Because Jongleur underestimated the Other. His own body stolen, the Other was given the whole of a fantastically complicated network to be his new body—but Jongleur and his minions did not understand the Other's ambition. More importantly, they did not understand his humanity . . . and his loneliness.
"He discovered his power could be extended through electronic communications over a distance. Part of that power was a hypnotic effect—something the Other himself probably never understood, any more than the rest of us spend much energy considering our own vision or sense of balance. You all being trapped here is a perfect example. He wanted all of you to stay in the network. He was fascinated with you, for some reason—I watched him watching you, almost following you. . . ."
"It was because of a story," Martine said in a raw voice. "About a boy in a well."
"Ah. Well, I hope you will explain that to me later." For the second time in an hour, Sellars appeared startled. "But I should finish this story first.
"The Other was interfacing with your minds directly, without you even realizing it. And at some level his wish to keep you, to hold onto you, translated into a direct plea planted in your subconscious. You could not go offline. Whether by pain or by the apparent disappearance of your neurocannular connections, you believed yourselves prevented, and it was so."
"But that Other thing truly sixed now, right?" T4b asked anxiously. "We could go now. To our caves—home, like?"
"Yes. But after I finish this explanation there is something very important I need from you—now, with you all gathered together."
"Yeah? Thinkin' about it," T4b said. "Keep talkin', you."
"So you're saying that the children like my brother were held here the same way?" Renie asked.
"No. They were never truly here, not like we are. Instead, they were . . . and are, for all I know . . . in comas simply because the Other made it happen—perhaps even by accident.
"I am guessing here, but I imagine that when the Other finally discovered how to move beyond the constraints of the Grail network, he reached out through Jongleur's own information web, then discovered Jongleur's ongoing search for suitable child-talents and infiltrated that as well, extending his powers all the way out into places like Mister J's. When the Other reached through that machinery and discovered the children on the other end—perhaps the first children he had been exposed to since the Pestalozzi Institute experiments, decades earlier—he must have been very excited. He tried to . . . examine these children, perhaps tried to communicate with them. I'm sure they resisted. You have all encountered the Other. He could not help the way he was, but that did not make him any less terrible, less frightening."
Like a huge thing in the depths of the ocean, and me swimming, helpless, Renie thought. Like a killing frost. Like Satan himself, banished and lonely. . . . "Yes," she said. "Oh, God, yes, we remember."
"Just so." Sellars nodded. "Faced with the resistance of a struggling, terrified child, my guess is that this psychologically malformed but powerful creature screamed out his own telepathic version of a command—'Be still' And so they became . . . still. But since he did not understand what he had done, he did not release them again when he was finished examining them."
"Examining them?" Florimel sounded outraged. "What does that mean, 'examining them'? What did it want?"
Sellars gave a half-shrug. "To make friends. There is no understanding this without remembering that the Other was himself essentially an abused, isolated child."
Martine moved uncomfortably, seemed about to say something, but remained silent.
"For friends?" Renie looked around at the others to see if she was the only one who didn't understand. "That's . . . I don't know. Hard to believe. It did all that to them, almost killed them . . . because it wanted to meet some new friends?"
"You misunderstand me. I did not say 'meet,' I said 'make.' He wanted to make friends—literally. I believe that the Other wanted more than anything to be with other children like himself—or like the child he imagined himself to be. He studied real children so he could duplicate them within the network—surround himself with companions to ease the solitude."
"So all those fairy-tale children like the Stone Girl and all the others we met here in the heart of the system. . . ." Renie tried to reason it out. "They're just . . . imitations? Made-up children?"
"Yes. Cobbled together from his studies of real children like your brother, combined with the Other's memories—perhaps his only happy memories—of things Martine and other children had once taught him, rhymes, stories, songs. And I suspect there were more than just the fairy-tale creatures—that other invented children either escaped the Other's private place here or were created outside the sanctuary for some reason and never brought in. They wound up scattered throughout the Grail network—not human, but not part of the system either."
"Paul Jonas called them 'orphans,' " Martine said softly, "although he did not understand what they were. His young friend Gally must have been one of them."
"Orphans," Sellars said. "An apt term—especially now. But all of them would have been based at least in part on what the Other found in the minds of real children. That is why some of them retain memories, seem to have had some kind of prior life."
"So . . . my Eirene is not on this network. . . ?" Florimel spoke slowly, as if just waking. "She has never been on this network?"
"No. And as to whether the Other's post-hypnotic suggestion will now disappear, too, I can't say." Sellars shook his head grimly. "I wish I could, Florimel. If we are very lucky, your daughter and the other Tandagore children were only comatose because the Other retained some kind of continuous, reflexive mental grip on them, perhaps even by direct contact—through hospital lines, monitoring equipment, who knows? But I simply cannot guess what might happen now. We could study for years, I think, and never fully understand the Other."
"So we don't know if they'll wake up?" Renie could not keep the bitterness out of her voice. "After all this. . . !"
"We do not." He spoke carefully. "But perhaps there is more we can do to help them. Perhaps we can use the knowledge we have gained in some kind of therapy. . . ."