“Maybe.”
The thoughtful note in the one word made her glance at him, but he did not elaborate.
They moved on to the next installation, a miniature model of the art colony and the imposing red rock canyon walls that surrounded it. The scene was about three feet square, and as far as she could tell, it was accurate. She recognized the inn, the sculpture garden, the casitas, and the workshop. The old house that now served as the Maze Gallery was also in the scene. An ominous, pulsing aurora emanated from deep within the landscape.
Sophy watched the small group of people gathered around the model. They looked fascinated.
“It’s interesting,” she whispered, “but I’m not sure it qualifies as art. It looks more like one of those small-scale models developers use to illustrate their plans for a shopping center.”
“Move a little closer,” Luke said.
Gingerly she went forward—and got an annoying pulse of artificial lust. This time she was braced for it. She stepped back.
“This is actually getting scary,” she said. “We’re dealing with a psychic hypnotist who can manipulate the response of the viewers. A porno vibe is one thing, but what if it were some other emotion? Despair could push a vulnerable person over the edge. Panic could generate a stampede. Mob violence is a thing.”
“I know,” Luke said. “But the wavelengths are very short, much less than the average range for human-generated paranormal energy. I estimate the reach is only about three feet, max. Notice how rapidly the power levels fall off when you move away from the installation?”
Experimentally she took a couple of steps back. The pulse offocused energy became extremely weak and then disappeared entirely.
“Yes,” she said.
“It’s impressive that any talent could embed a hypnotic suggestion into a mirror or any other material and have it activate remotely. Whoever is behind this has made a significant engineering advance, but it is obviously still in the development stage.”
“This is seriously dangerous technology,” she said. “It’s one thing to have to listen to ‘Jingle Bells’for two months during the holiday shopping season. I don’t want to even think about what would happen if the currents of music were carrying a hypnotic suggestion to buy more stuff.”
“That would be the least of the potential damage this tech could do…Huh.”
She shot him a quick, searching look. “What?”
“Someone has found a way to record a static message in the tiles, but based on everything I know about human-generated psi, the hypnotic suggestion has to be renewed frequently—by a human with a talent for the work.”
She studied him, intrigued. “You really do know a lot about the physics of paranormal energy.”
“For a CIA assassin, you mean?”
She was suddenly grateful for the darkness, because she could feel herself turning red. “I never actually said you were an assassin.”
“You didn’t have to say it.”
“Are we going to refight the old feud here?” she shot back. “In public?”
“Nope. I think we’ve insulted each other enough for one day. I suggest we focus on our problem.”
“Good plan,” she muttered.
“The interesting thing about this conversation is that it’s given me an idea.”
She realized that they were alone in front of the installation. The other guests had disappeared down another glowing hallway.
“I’m listening,” she said.
“The development of this tech would have required more than one talent. Yes, a hypnotist is involved. But someone else probably invented the mirror tiles. We’re talking about two very different kinds of psychic ability. Then there’s the money angle. It took a fortune to reopen the art colony and another fortune to keep it running.”
“All that just to sell mediocre art?”
“I think it’s more likely the art marketing is a cover for what is really going on here.”
“Which is?”
