by Beth Goobie
“Okay,” said the psychiatrist. “What’s your favorite shape — square, circle or triangle?”
“Rhomboid,” said Nellie. “Or hexagon. Or just a very weird scribbled shape that’s very non-geometric.”
There was a pause. “Nellie,” said the psychiatrist. “I want you to go deeper. Float deeper, deeper. Relax and let your thoughts come without thinking them. Are you floating deeper?”
“Uh-huh,” said Nellie, slowing her speech and trying to slur it. “Deeeeper.”
“That’s better,” said Westcott. “Now, who is your favorite instructor in Advanced?”
“Col. Jolsen,” said Nellie.
“Do you ever wish he was your father?” asked Westcott.
“No,” said Nellie without thinking. “Parents are irrelevant.”
“Do you remember your mother?” asked Westcott.
A slight twitch convulsed Nellie’s throat and she frowned. Tricky territory. Mothers were more complicated than fathers. What was Westcott after here? After a pause she said, “Not much.”
“Not much?” prompted the psychiatrist.
“Sometimes I almost think I see her when I’m dreaming, but never quite.” It was an honest answer, Nellie thought. She didn’t have to fudge it.
“Do you remember anything she told you?” Westcott’s tone was casual, but Nellie could hear its careful creeping note.
“Like what?” she asked.
“Oh,” said the psychiatrist, “that you were, for instance, a special child. Or a chosen one.”
Deep inside Nellie’s brain, something shifted. “No,” she said, bewildered. “No, I don’t remember anything like that.”
“Have you ever thought of yourself as a child of the Gods?” asked Westcott.
“Of the Gods?” Nellie was stunned outright. Was Westcott out of his absolute friggin’ mind? “Never,” she said flatly.
“Tell me then, Nellie,” said the psychiatrist after another slight pause. “What do you think of the Goddess?”
An image of the floor-to-ceiling statue that stood in the Advanced chapel, hands raised beseechingly to the heavens, leapt to Nellie’s mind. “She is the Great Holy Mother of us all,” she said fervently. “An angel that stands between us and the Gods as intervener.”
“What would you say if someone told you the Goddess was a lie?” asked the psychiatrist slowly. “A sham? Superstition?”
Nellie’s fists clenched. How could Westcott suggest such a thing? Briefly she considered scanning his vibes for irregularities, any intention of blasphemy or sacrilege, then realized he was probably just checking her faith for signs of weakness. “I would decimate her with a kick to the right temple,” she said harshly. No one insulted the Goddess. No one.
“Her?” asked the psychiatrist quickly. “Why did you say ‘her’?”
Nellie was swept with sudden panic. Had she said “her”? Well, what was wrong with that?
“I dunno,” she stammered. “It’s just a word, isn’t it?”
“I said ‘someone’ and you said ‘her’,” said the psychiatrist.
“Oh,” said Nellie, her thoughts racing. She worked so hard to figure out Westcott’s game and cover her ass, but everyone had their weaknesses. Only weakness in Advanced meant the Black Box, or worse — K Block. She had to stay focused, she had to—
“Why did you say ‘her’?” repeated the psychiatrist.
“I don’t know,” Nellie mumbled, jamming her fingertip hard against the tip of the screw. Get a grip, moron, she thought. FOCUS.
“You don’t remember a ... woman telling you the Goddess is all lies and superstition?” asked Westcott.
Again there came the shifting, deep within Nellie’s brain, as if something wanted out. “No,” she mumbled, trying to shove it back down. “No one ever said anything like that to me.”
“Good,” said Westcott heartily. “Wonderful, I’m glad to hear it. That’s marvelous news, Nellie. Because you and I both know the Goddess is real, don’t we? We know She is all truth, all light, and all love.”
“Yes,” whispered Nellie, licking the sweat from her upper lip.
“The Great Mother of us all, as you said,” finished the psychiatrist, a smile loud in his voice. “One last question. Have you had any dreams of cutting off your hair yet?”
Why was he back harping on this again? Nellie scowled, then tried to cover it with a dreamy smile. As a matter of fact she had seen the shorn-headed girl several times since last week’s session, but these images had come to her when she was awake — flashes of the girl’s face, there and gone in her head. Yesterday it had happened twice while she was sitting in Bio-weapons. “No,” Nellie said in her dreamiest tone. “No no no no no.”
“Ah,” said the psychiatrist slowly. “Well, we’ll leave it there for today. Now I want you to float up slowly from the depths of the ocean — slowly, slowly — but first leave everything we talked about today in a small box at the bottom.”
Fat chance, thought Nellie.
“Are you doing what I said?” asked Westcott, a trifle sharply.
“Oh yes,” Nellie said meekly.
“All your memories of this session are at the bottom of the ocean?” Westcott said.
“What memories?” Meaning it as a joke, Nellie cringed slightly at the psychiatrist’s annoyed intake of breath. “Gone, all gone,” she added, sighing dreamily for emphasis.
Westcott gave her another slight pause. “Bring the sailboat in over the horizon and take out all your Advanced thoughts,” he said a little testily.
“Okay,” said Nellie quietly. “I did it. It’s done.”
“Dr. Juba?” said the psychiatrist. Suddenly the helmet and blinders were being lifted from Nellie’s head and she was blinking in a swarm of light. Her eyes focused on Westcott, watching her from his desk as he played with the mole on his chin. “Okay?” he asked, smiling benignly.
A horde of invisible creepy-crawlies crept up Nellie’s spine. “Yeah, okay,” she said.
“Then we’ll see you next week,” said the psychiatrist.
That evening when she went to use the Mind Cleanser, the burgundy barrier curtain had been removed and a sky blue version installed in its place.
Seven
THAT NIGHT NELLIE dreamed of the shorn-headed girl again. As usual she was with the green-eyed boy, but this time they were outside, walking along what seemed to be a back alley at night. The boy was hovering behind the girl, one hand close to what looked to be a weapon hidden at his hip, and his eyes darted continually about the alley, returning frequently to the back of the girl’s head. Suddenly the girl gave a soft gasp and turned to face the boy. With surprise, Nellie realized she could hear the murmur of the girl’s voice, though not her actual words. As she watched, straining to make out what they were saying, the girl ran a few steps, reached out, and seemed to grope at something in the air. Then she stepped forward and to Nellie’s utter amazement began to change shape, erupting into a figure of light with wings, then shifting rapidly through every apparition imaginable — gargoyle, bird-headed human, even a sky-blue spiral of energy. Finally the girl left form behind completely, and became simply the endless shifting of multicolored light and a wild keening that seemed to reach into the very cells of Nellie’s dreaming body.
Abruptly the dream cut off and Nellie woke to discover a shadowy figure leaned over her, holding a small device to her forehead. The device emitted a heavy force field that seemed to be pulling at her brain. Immediately Nellie rammed an arm upward, knocking the device from her face. Then she launched herself at the shadowy figure, but it evaded her neatly, leaving her entangled in her bedding.
“Relaaax. Cool your panties,” drawled a voice. Nellie could hear the smirk in it. “I was just doing an exercise for Dr. Westcott.”
“What the fuck kind of exercise was that?” Enraged, Nellie glared at her roommate’s silhouette.
“You’ll have to ask him.” Picking up the device, Tana slipped around the closet at the end of the
barricade. The squeak of bedsprings followed as she climbed into bed. “If you remember, that is,” she sniggered.
“Of course I’ll remember,” snapped Nellie, soft fear oozing across her brain. “I remember everything that happens to me.”
“You think you do,” sneered her roommate and then she was silent, leaving Nellie with the faint beeping of the security alarm and a frenzy of unanswered questions.
NELLIE LET OUT a whoop as the bell rang, and tossed her gun into the air. It was the end of Weapons class and they’d just completed a fifteen-minute free-for-all with fun guns — plastic pistols loaded with bullets that splattered a washable red dye onto their targets but caused no physical damage. Of the fourteen members in the class, she was the cleanest — only four direct hits. Not bad when she compared herself to Phillip who was drenched, but he got kind of giggly in fun events and lost his competitive edge.
“You are the eye that never sleeps,” he quipped, saluting her with his fun gun. “But remember.” He jabbed a wide splotch across her left arm. “This one’s mine.”
“Oh yeah?” Nellie demanded, jabbing him back. “I could claim half the hits on your back and butt. You’re dead ten times over.”
Phillip grinned, about to reply, when the door to the gym office opened and Col. Jolsen stepped out. “Cadet Kinnan!” he called, beckoning.
“Go take a shower,” Nellie said to Phillip, handing him her fun gun. “Clean off all that death.” Taking off across the gym, she skidded to a stop outside the office door. “Cadet Kinnan reporting, sir,” she said, giving the colonel a quick salute.
“C’mon in.” Col. Jolsen held the door open and Nellie slipped past him, ignoring the uneasy quiver that ran up her spine whenever she had to give someone her back. “Through here,” the colonel said, crossing to a second door at the back of the office. Leading her down a short hallway, he turned into a small room that contained athletic equipment.
Without a second thought Nellie followed him through the doorway, then froze, broadsided by shock. “Lierin!” she gasped, riveted by the sight of her friend lying on a stretcher and bleeding from several wounds in her abdomen and left thigh.
“She’s unconscious,” said Col. Jolsen, stopping beside Lierin’s head. “Bad maze run. I brought you in here for a special demonstration.”
“Of the Flesh Healer?” Frantically Nellie scanned the room for the small, lifesaving device.
The colonel shook his head. “Could be done, but there’s no point. She lost her left hand.” He held up Lierin’s left arm, and Nellie’s eyes fixed on the casually wrapped stump. “We sent in several drones to retrieve it, but one of the maintenance drones must have thrown it to the dogs. You know the rules, Kinnan. Without a hand, a cadet isn’t functional.”
The room took a dizzy half-swing. “But can’t she do office work?” Nellie stammered wildly. “Or—”
Col. Jolsen shook his head again. “Rules are rules. The Goddess chooses each cadet for a specific task, and if that breaks down—”
He raised a hand as another protest burst from Nellie’s lips. “No arguing,” he snapped. “I didn’t bring you in here for a loose display of emotions. I’m disappointed in you, Kinnan.” He glared at her, his face tightening, then leaned forward and shouted, “Focus, cadet! FOCUS!”
White-hot fear surged up Nellie’s spine and she stiffened, staring wordlessly at a spot above the colonel’s head. But inside her head, a tiny voice whispered, Lierin dying? Lierin dying when she doesn’t have to, just because she lost her hand? Anyone could lose their hand. And her wounds aren’t fatal, anyone can see that. Plus, she’s a soldier of light ...
“Focused?” hissed Col. Jolsen, still leaning into her face. Keeping her eyes on the spot above his head, Nellie nodded. Carefully she licked a smudge of sweat from her upper lip.
“Now, as I said,” the colonel continued grimly, stepping toward the wall and dimming the overhead light, “I brought you in here for a demonstration. I don’t have to do this, but I think you’re ready. Are you ready, Cadet Kinnan? Ready to make the Goddess proud?”
Again Nellie nodded, tensing as a single tear slipped down her cheek. Ignoring it, Col. Jolsen said, “Watch this.” Lifting Lierin’s left arm, he removed the bandage. As the bloody stump came into view, Nellie flinched. How could this be happening, why was the Goddess permitting it? Another tear slid down her cheek. She wanted to reach out and cup Lierin’s bloody wrist between her hands, she wanted to whisper to it, somehow find the words to make what was missing grow back. Just to somehow make everything missing come back.
“Cadet Kinnan!” yelled Col. Jolsen, stepping toward her. “Get focused!” Abruptly he slapped Nellie hard on the cheek. Stunned, she stepped back, her hands flying to her face. “Are you finished with the dramatics?” the colonel hissed.
Eyes fixed on his throat, Nellie sucked in her lips, trying to control their trembling. She nodded.
“Good,” he said. “I’ve got better ways to spend my time than babysitting weak-kneed cadets. Now watch this.” Pulling a device that resembled a TV remote control from his pocket, he held it above the stump at Lierin’s wrist and pressed a button. Immediately the stump was suffused with a deep red glow. Then, as Nellie stared incredulously, the red glow extended itself into the shape of a hand.
“What d’you see, cadet?” the colonel asked tersely, studying her face.
“It’s, uh ... ,” Nellie faltered, groping for the correct words. The apparition at the end of Lierin’s arm was obviously a hand composed of vibrations. She’d seen this sort of thing before, whenever her mind leapt its usual barrier and everything dissolved into a landscape of energy. But how could Lierin have a vibratory hand when her flesh-and-blood one was gone? How could Col. Jolsen make it appear with a small handheld device? And of equal importance, how was she supposed to fake her way through this so the colonel had no idea that she understood what she was seeing?
“It’s like a ghost hand,” Nellie whispered, fighting the chaos in her head. “Except it’s ... red.” Like blood, she thought shakily. The color of a moan.
Col. Jolsen nodded soberly. “Now watch this.” Holding the device above Lierin’s chest, he pushed a button and her entire body dissolved into a human-shaped field of energy. Various colors swam and mixed in her energy field, with murky, red-brown patches at her abdomen, left thigh and wrist. Then the colonel shifted the device back to the stump at Lierin’s wrist and the shifting mass of colors on the stretcher solidified into her physical body, except for the hand-shaped glow at her left wrist.
Leaning toward Nellie, Col. Jolsen spoke rapidly. “What you’re seeing here, cadet,” he said earnestly, “is one of the deeper mysteries. We are made of light. This,” he said, touching the glow that emanated from Lierin’s wrist, “is part of this cadet’s soul. Her soul existed before it entered her body, and it will continue to exist after her body dies. The body is just a form worn by the soul so it can enter the physical world.”
“Riding the light,” whispered Nellie, staring at the red spirit hand.
“You’ve got it,” grinned the colonel, as if congratulating her. Catching an odd note in his voice, Nellie glanced up and her eyes widened in shock. Col. Jolsen’s face was glowing, as if filled with an inner light, and his features seemed to be shifting. Then, as she watched, someone entirely different took over his face. It was just for a moment, a few brief seconds, and the colonel’s face had grown so brilliant, she could barely make out what the alien presence looked like, but it seemed to have narrow slanted eyes and a long jutting jaw. Heart thundering, Nellie stared, openmouthed. This was crazy, impossible. If she ever told anyone, it was K-Block for sure.
Within seconds, the colonel’s face lost its brilliance and returned to normal. “We ride the light, cadet,” he said, turning off the small handheld device and pocketing it. “Our true bodies are made of light. This,” he added, poking Lierin’s abdomen, his face twisting with contempt, “is a piece of shit. Nothing about it matters. This cadet w
ill leave it when I release her, and her soul will return to the stars. The physical body doesn’t matter, death is just a game we play. We’re all beings of eternal light, star to body, body to star. Never get yourself trapped into thinking the body is important, d’you hear me?” The colonel leaned closer, his face twisted bizarrely. “I said, did you hear me, cadet?” he repeated ominously.
Afraid to move, afraid even to breathe, Nellie ducked her head slightly.
“Good.” Col. Jolsen’s face relaxed and he straightened. “We endure the physical body, cadet,” he said, releasing a long slow breath. “It’s a tool, a weapon, nothing more. Your body will lie to you, it’ll give out on you, it’s full of crap, piss and screaming disappointment, but remember — your true self is your soul. Your soul burns in the darkness of your body like a star in the night sky, got it? That is one of the deepest mysteries of all.”
“Yes, sir,” Nellie said softly, blurring her gaze so she could look at his face without seeing it, without seeing anything at all.
“Now,” said the colonel, coming around the end of the stretcher and putting his hands on Nellie’s shoulders. “I want you to go deep inside yourself, back to your earliest filing cabinets. Code MK one through six. Are you there?”
“Yes, sir,” said Nellie, as a row of cabinets surfaced in her head.
“What number are you at?” asked the colonel, his fingers tightening.
“Number three,” said Nellie.
“Too early,” said the colonel. “Try number five.”
“Yes, sir,” said Nellie.
“Create a new filing cabinet,” said the colonel. “MK5DZ. Open all the drawers.”
“Drawers are open, sir,” said Nellie.
“Place every memory you have of Lierin McNearn into that cabinet,” said Col. Jolsen.