Read Fluency for Free Online Page B

between the images and the co ncepts of ‘open’ and ‘close,’ as well as probing within for hidden links to other languages, a practiced mental exercise.
    Abruptly, she could see meaning within the pattern. Compr ehension breathed life within her mind—open and close, unlocked from somewhere inside.
    She stumbled back. Her boot caught. She fell on her rump at Gibbs’ feet.
    “Jane?”
    Gibbs lifted her by the arm. She swayed in his grasp, gaping at the symbols that now meant far more.
    She could see into them, like a hologram.
    Open …vastness, yawning…fresh and exposed, loose, lifting up and out, unfurling…expanding, stars and light…communing…forever without end….
    Her breath caught in her throat.
    Her eyes drifted down. A new experience.
    Close …barrier, block…tightly cover, conceal, seal and lock…stifle…dark…inaccessible…halting…murderous, fence, trap, end…. End?
    She shuddered and tore her eyes away.
    “Jane, what is it?” Bergen’s helmet skittered over hers, pressing her back into Gibbs.
    She closed her eyes. Her whole body trembled. Couldn’t they see it too?
    The hum was back and it was stronger. There was an unmistakable sensation of vibration and movement. Were there actual bees inside her head?
    Her own thoughts were mired while something else—something that was not her—zipped with glee, probing, searching…. Her brain pulsed in response.
    Her limbs were heavy. She wanted to lie down.
    She felt drunk.
    She recalled the first time she’d ever been tipsy with sudden clarity. The bees latched onto that, pushed her toward the memory.
    Control spun away. She went along as an observer.
    She’d been nine. They were living in Belize at that time. No tourists came in rumbling, rusty, buses that day to hike the trails. It was a rare free day.
    Jane batted away a slow-flying insect and looked up from the tattered, yellowed paperback that a tall German woman had car elessly left behind the day before. It was a book by a guy named Sagan, about a girl who was smart and curious, just like her.
    She was bored. The daily rain shower would begin soon and she’d be cooped up in the casita for the rest of the afternoon, rea ding or playing chess.
    Where had her parents gone? They were probably giggling u nder some tree somewhere. She sighed heavily. She didn’t like it when they left her alone, but they’d come if she yelled and then she’d get a lecture about crying wolf.
    She sat down on the dusty, worn boards in the doorway, finge ring the wide cracks, smoothed over by time. She thought she heard a quiet ‘kyow,’ the tell-tale sound of a quetzal in the neighborhood, and picked up her binoculars, scanning the canopy for signs of the bird, its red breast, and long, flicking green tail, then the undergrowth for signs of her wayward parents. She saw movement, but that was the cow.
    They said they were trying to make her a baby brother or sister to keep her company, but they’d been saying that for a long time and it hadn’t happened yet. She didn’t see what the big deal was. Why did they need to be alone to do that? It’s not like she hadn’t watched them before when they thought she was sleeping. She’d teased them that they made some pretty funny sounds, compared to the monkeys she’d observed.
    She eyed the bottle of clear guaro they kept up on the high shelf. Grown-up drinks, grown-up sex, grown-up stuff was just silly stuff they didn’t want to share. She pulled a chair over to the single wall-mounted cabinet and captured the nearly full bottle. She’d show them. She sloshed it into her small, plastic cup and gave it a taste.
    Ugh. Terrible stuff. But it was warm going down and that was nice. Interesting sensation, actually. She coughed a little and took a more cautious sip and then another. It was a little sweet. It was sharp. Not so different from spicy food and she liked that fine.
    She decided she was mature enough to get it down and turned on the radio. Mom liked