Inwardly, Jeremiah began to understand how Meld could be so dangerous. It seemed like something no one ought to see.

“How?” he asked. “I mean, how the hell does it actually do that?”

“The science is hard to explain in laymen’s terms,” she began. “But essentially, Meld does different things to the brains of the people who take it—the Meld I take chemically stimulates mirror neurons in my brain. That’s what makes empathy possible—like when you see someone yawn and then you can’t help but yawn yourself. That’s because of mirror neurons. It gives me a picture of what’s going on in your mind and, in a way, lets me experience it.”

“And what about the drug you give to me?” he asked. “What does that do?”

“Among other things, it inhibits your own self-perspective. It filters out all those little lies we tell ourselves about who we are, how other people see us. It allows me to see the truth. And to some extent, it allows you to see it, too.”

“It sounds a little invasive when you put it like that.”

She smiled slightly. “I suppose it is,” she said. “But Meld doesn’t divulge everything. And because of the interplay between our minds, it’s never as exact as I’d like. There’s always the need for me to interpret some of what I see. If you want the more specific background, the details, sometimes simple conversation is still the best route.”

Jeremiah had the impression that no conversation was ever simple where Natalie Young was concerned.

“Well, there’s your specific background, then. Diana got pregnant and we got married. We were already talking about it, anyway. This sort of thing happens all the time. It’s not a big deal. Plans change.”

“What sort of plans changed, Jeremiah?”

“You know, just normal plans. We were going to go to London. I had an offer from a newspaper there. But it was risky with a baby on the way, you know, up and moving to another country. She got nervous. So, instead we got an apartment. I got a job on a paper here. We had to put things on hold.”

“For a long time, it seems,” she said.

“We have a son to raise. You make sacrifices. I don’t think that’s so hard to understand, Dr. Young. I certainly don’t think it’s a bad thing.”

“No, of course not. On the contrary. Do you consider yourself a good father, then?”

“Yes,” he said pointedly. “Actually, I do. I’ve been there for Parker.”

“And is that the most important thing?” she asked. “Being there?”

“Well, I’d say it’s a pretty damn good start. That’s what you do if you’re a father.”

“Your own father left when you were...how old?” she asked, looking down at her notes. “Four years old?”

The expectant look on her face gave Jeremiah the impression she was waiting for him to make some breakthrough connection about overcompensating in his role as a father. But he wasn’t going to give in to her cheap psychoanalytic tricks.