“He has no power,” said a soft voice at the end of the table. Evelina, the small Slavic girl, speaking for the first time. She didn’t look up from the plate of pickled vegetables in front of her, though she wasn’t eating, just stirring it with a fork.
“What?” Willem scowled, leaning towards Evelina. “Are you calling me a liar?”
Alise took Willem’s arm and spoke softly to him in either German or Dutch, Juliana couldn’t tell. Willem gazed longingly into her eyes, like a small boy falling in love for the first time. When she released him, Willem sank back in his seat, wearing the same kind of goofy smile that had appeared on Sebastian’s face when Alise touched him.
Alise saw Juliana looking at her and gave a big smile. “See? We can all get along peacefully,” Alise told her.
Juliana looked at Willem, who stared at Alise with his mouth open, starting to drool. Juliana realized that Alise’s “happy” power might be more dangerous than it sounded.
“You will all be happy to learn that, in honor of our two new friends from America, we have obtained permission to use the screening room tonight,” Alise said, and everyone seemed to brighten at this news. “We’ll watch ‘She Done Him Wrong’ with Mae West and Cary Grant.”
Juliana and Mia immediately looked at each other and smiled.
“We have selected this film because Juliana expressed an admiration for the actress,” Alise added, with an extra smile at Juliana. Juliana smiled back. Mia must have mentioned it to Alise, though Juliana wasn’t sure when that might have happened. The American movie would certainly help them feel at home.
All of the subjects went to the screening room after the meal. Alise quietly made it clear to Juliana that hand-holding and kissing in the darkened room was not allowed. Juliana and Sebastian had to sit with an empty seat between them. Still, Juliana enjoyed the movie.
Things became much less pleasant the next day.
Juliana’s morning started with a physical examination in a laboratory. She had to strip down while a couple of German nurses, not much older than her, weighed her, measured her, took her pulse, and drew samples of her blood and cut lengths out of her hair, which they placed into labeled test tubes. They wore surgical masks and gloves and acted wary around her, as if they’d been warned about her touch. Juliana gave them an extra warning, but she wasn’t sure if they understood. She was tense throughout the physical.
Eventually, the doctor entered, and the two nurses moved to the side of the room, where they stood with their hands folded and backs straight, like soldiers at attention. Juliana, sitting naked on the steel exam table, hurried to cover herself with her arms. She cast a desperate look at the two nurses, wanting to know whether she could put her clothes on again, but they didn’t even look at her.
The doctor’s nose was buried in a file folder, and he kept reading for a few minutes after he entered, saying nothing at all to Juliana or the nurses. He was a very pudgy man, balding, with a fat, clean-shaven face but a thick neck beard under his chin line, like he was trying hard to look eccentric, or desperately wanted to look like a lion. His eyes flicked back and forth behind his horn-rimmed glasses as he read.
“Hello?” Juliana finally said to him.
The man glanced up and eyed her coldly. “Yah?”
“Can I get dressed?” she asked.
He grunted and took a pen from the breast pocket of his lab coat. “You are Juliana?”
“Yes.”
“Hm. Severe infection caused by physical contact—not the only case of transmission through touch we’ve seen here.” He looked up from the file again. “Background questions. Age?”
“Twenty.”
“Any allergies, chronic illnesses, past surgeries, anything at all in your medical background?”
“No, sir. I’ve almost never been to the doctor, and I’ve never been sick.”
“Never sick?” He scribbled in his file. “Nothing? No common cold? No minor infections of any kind?”
“No. Can I get dressed now?”
“Not until exam is over.”
“Do you have a name?” she asked.
“I am Dr. Franz Wichtmann,” he said, sounded impatient. “I am the project director here. Tell me about this deadly touch of yours. How long have you had it?”
“All my life.”
“Have you ever harmed a person with it?”
Juliana hesitated.
“You can be honest,” Wichtmann said. “All is confidential.”
“I have, but only when they attacked me first,” Juliana told him.
“Have you ever killed anyone with your touch?”
Juliana hesitated again, looking down at her bare feet. Her whole body seemed pale and sick under the harsh surgical lights overhead.