In the shrew's mental control room, the little pilot-man waited patiently, his hairy hands still placed on the blinking dashboard. Around him, Aiden's golden thread shimmered like a miniature aurora borealis, intertwining with his spectral substance.
This was the moment of truth. Aiden had succeeded in infiltration, but now he had to act with the subtlety of a diplomat and the intelligence of a psychologist to not ruin everything.
First rule of successful mental control, he thought remembering his theoretical reflections, never seem to be controlling anything.
In the real world, the shrew was still trembling in his hands, but its small black eyes had lost that animal panic to adopt an almost... attentive expression.
Aiden mentally approached his essence to the little neural pilot. He had to proceed with the delicacy of a Swiss watchmaker repairing a precision timepiece.
The idea was not to give direct orders. No, that would have been crude and amateurish. Instead, he had to become the shrew's own inner voice, the one that whispers suggestions so natural that it would believe it had them all by itself.
Go easy, he told himself. You're a used car salesman trying to foist a Renault Twingo on a customer who thinks he's buying a Ferrari. You have to be damn convincing.
He modulated his mental presence, adopting a psychic tonality that resembled as much as possible the shrew's own instinctive thoughts, fewer words, more sensations and less human intelligence, more animal instinct.
And then, very gently, he began to whisper.
Not with words, shrews don't talk, unless pigs already have teeth... But more seriously, with well-calibrated emotional impulses.
Curiosity... the desire to explore... the right paw that seems heavy...
In the control room, the pilot-man blinked, as if an idea had just crossed his mind. He glanced at a screen that monitored the limbs, then delicately operated a lever.
In the real world, the shrew's right paw moved slightly.
Aiden almost let out a cry of triumph but held back just in time. It worked! Damn, it worked!
But this was just a beginning, the movement this time had been too hesitant, too clumsy. Fortunately the pilot had obeyed certainly, but still with that instinctive mistrust of an animal that senses something is wrong.
Animal instinct is fucking scary. He thought wiping away a drop of sweat.
He had to do much better and be more subtle, more... let's say... natural.
The following twenty minutes were a masterclass in psychological manipulation applied to a shrew's brain.
Aiden quickly discovered that the key wasn't in the intensity of his suggestions, but in their authenticity. The more they resembled the animal's real thoughts, the more easily the little pilot accepted them.
For example, when he tried to move the tail with a too direct suggestion, move the tail now, the pilot hesitated, frowned his little hairy eyebrows, and finally did nothing.
But when Aiden formulated the same idea in a more roundabout way, strange sensation at the tail level... need to wiggle it to check that everything's okay... it's normal to move the tail when you're curious, the pilot nodded knowingly and operated the right lever without the slightest resistance.
It's exactly like flirting, Aiden realized with amusement. If you directly say "let's have sex?", you get rejected. But if you create the right circumstances, the right atmosphere, the right emotions... the person feels like they had the idea themselves.
He refined his technique, learning to perfectly reproduce the shrew's "mental style." His suggestions became more and more natural, more and more integrated.
Hunger... need to scratch the ground... my hind paws itch a little... it's cold, I should curl up...
And each time, the pilot-man nodded and executed, convinced he was just following his shrew's natural desires.
After thirty minutes of experimentation, Aiden felt like an orchestra conductor directing a very talented but slightly deaf musician. He had to amplify certain notes, attenuate others, but when it was well done, the melody flowed naturally.
He began with increasingly complex suggestions.
This direction seems interesting... my ears pick up a curious noise to the left... I'd like to explore that corner...
The shrew turned its head to the left, then took a few steps in that direction. Its movements were fluid, natural, as if it were really following its own curiosity.
Excellent, thought Aiden with satisfaction. Now, let's try something more ambitious.
He concentrated on emotions. This was the most delicate domain, because emotions were deeply linked to the animal's identity. Too much intensity and the pilot would notice something wasn't right.
Feeling of security... this place is perfect for resting... I feel relaxed and happy...
The shrew stopped trembling. Its breathing became slower, more regular. Its small eyes closed halfway in an expression of peaceful contentment.
In the control room, the pilot-man was now smiling, manipulating his controls with growing confidence. He suspected absolutely nothing.
Damn, I'm a genius, thought Aiden with a smile that had nothing childlike about it. A sociopathic eight-year-old genius, certainly, but a genius nonetheless.
Intoxicated by his success, Aiden decided to test the limits of his control. Maybe he could push the shrew to do something really against nature, like...
I want to dance... dancing is fun... I'm going to stand on my hind legs and make pretty movements...
This time, the reaction was immediate and catastrophic.
In the control room, the pilot-man stopped dead, his little hairy ears pricked up, his eyes narrowed with suspicion and he looked around as if searching for the origin of a foreign voice.
Shit, thought Aiden feeling his mental connection waver. Too stupid, too fast, too obvious.
Shrews don't dance. They have neither the instinct nor even the concept. By suggesting something so foreign to the animal's nature, Aiden had broken the illusion of authenticity he had carefully constructed.
The pilot began to panic, his hands running over his dashboard searching for the alarm controls.
Alert! Intrusion detected! Something's wrong!
No, no, NO! Aiden hurried to correct his error, sending waves of appeasement and familiarity.
Everything's fine... it was just a weird thought... it happens sometimes... nothing worrying... everything's normal...
But nothing worked, no matter what he did, the mouse-man was like possessed, and his trembling fingers slowly approached the alarm button, resisting Aiden's influence like a possessed person.
Aiden gritted his teeth, he had played everything perfectly and this error would cost this shrew its life if he did nothing.
Not much choice anymore I'm sorry...
He changed tactics and rather than being subtle, he forced his will into the little man, so hard that he heard what sounded like glass breaking and suddenly the mouse-man froze, finger still extended, a few millimeters from the red button.
Phew, that was close. Aiden thought without realizing what he had done.
He resumed his work trying to erase this man's memories by destroying the memories of what had happened.
So, how do you use this thing?
He controlled the man, manipulated the panel and pressed buttons randomly to finally press the memory trash can.
Meanwhile, the mouse was dancing salsa on the basement floor.
- "Pressing all the buttons is not a good idea," he told himself.
Good, now that the memories are erased, Aiden slowly withdrew his control from the mouse-man to resume the art of subtlety... But nothing happened, the man no longer moved, no movement, not even a hair that moved.
- "OH SHIT." He exclaimed before putting a hand over his mouth and cursing himself and praying that no one was awake.
I'm praying a lot lately. He found it amusing.
But more seriously, he made the golden thread exit the mouse-man's body and saw his glassy eyes...
- "That's what I thought... I killed him... The mouse is now in complete brain death..."
He gently placed the small body on the cold stone floor. The shrew was still breathing - automatic reflexes oblige, but there was no one left behind those eyes. The pilot-man was dead, and with him, all trace of consciousness in this creature.
With a hand trembling more from anger than sadness, he opened his notebook and noted in furious writing:
Experiment No. 122 - PARTIAL FAILURE/CRUCIAL LESSON
Control duration: 2 hours and 5 minutes Final result: BRAIN DEATH of subject
Failure analysis: Too much confidence. Too much pressure on the neuronal system. By wanting to test the limits, I broke the toy.
Important note: Mental control works, but there's a safety limit not to exceed. Pushing too hard = frying the circuits.
Lesson learned: Subtlety isn't just a technique, it's a question of SURVIVAL for the subject.
Next step: Start again with a new subject and MORE CAUTION before moving to Man.
He closed the notebook sharply, frustration boiling in him like a pressure cooker.
Good, he thought looking at the small inert body, at least now I know where the red line is. And next time, I won't cross it.
One hundred twenty-two experiments to get to this. A partial success that ends in fiasco. But deep down, Aiden wasn't that disappointed.
He had proved that total mental control was possible. He just needed... to refine his technique.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------
(PS: A friend suggested I create a P@treon account. If you'd like to see advanced chapters posted on Webnovel, that's where you can find them! I'll also mention all the supporters at the end of each chapter!)
Search StoryLabo or click the link on my bio