“Relax, Tom.” Heather’s breath tickled his ear. He felt her hands brush the back of his neck, sending goose bumps down his skin. He was disappointed when her fingers slid away. “We’ve programmed it to disable your eyesight and vocal cords while you’re hooked in. It’s to help focus your concentration these first few times. . . . Enslow, you look upset.” Her voice grew vaguely threatening, “Do you want to join Tom or would you rather sit this one out?”

“I’ll do it,” Wyatt snapped, and Tom could see her name listed against the darkness in his vision.

After another moment or two, Heather’s name appeared.

Is this on? Tom and Wyatt both thought, and the words appeared right there before his eyes.

Then Heather thought, I wonder which one of them will think something embarrassing first? The words scrolled across Tom’s vision.

Don’t think about Heather’s boobs, Tom thought to himself, and to his mortification, the words appeared there.

Yay, it wasn’t me! Wyatt thought. Then after the words appeared, she thought, Sorry, Tom.

Tom. Wyatt. Try to focus, Heather thought. You can control your thoughts.

Boobs, Wyatt thought. Aah! Where did that come from?

It’s called word contagion, and it’s normal, Heather thought. You can break it by occupying your thoughts with something else. Try times tables.

2 x 2 = 4, 4 x 4 = 16, 11 x 11 = 121 . . . Wyatt thought. This works. Send. I’m surprised she had good advice.

Excuse me? Heather thought.

Elliot’s name appeared in the IRC. Hello, everyone! Don’t worry, I’m here now! Just some technical difficulties. What did I miss?

Riding in to save the day, Heather thought.

Tom thought, Hi, Elliot. Send. Elliot’s an okay guy.

At least Elliot won’t think about . . . Wait, I’m thinking this, Heather thought.

Can someone tell us what we’re supposed to think about? Send, Wyatt thought.

Looks like there’s a leadership deficit, Elliot thought. I came just in time.

Ugh, Heather thought.

So what now? Send, Tom thought.

Yes, why won’t someone tell me what to think about? Send, Wyatt thought.

You guys don’t need to think send, Heather thought. I want you all to stop thinking send.

Send, Tom thought. He couldn’t help it.

Just then, Karl’s name appeared in the IRC. Stupid Fido.

I hate Karl. Die horribly, Karl, Tom thought. Then, feeling a malicious glee, Send.

I want to jam a gun barrel down Raines’s throat and see him choke on it, Karl thought.

God, Karl, Heather thought. Issues?

Ha-ha-ha-ha, appeared as Tom’s text, since the laughter wasn’t coming from his lips.

Hate him, hate him, gonna kill him . . . Karl thought.

Hates me so much and yet he can’t pull off a single threat, Tom thought gleefully. Ah-ha-ha-ha-ha . . .