by E. L. Aldryc
Every scientific source available cited that Green Garcia suffered a mental breakdown in 2286, which ended his academic career. She knew that because the moment she started thinking about it, her mind forced her through thousands of pages of written data on the subject. She couldn’t keep it all in her memory, of course, but had to suffer through it, regardless. Paragnostic binges were becoming an issue. As for Green Garcia, he'd apparently still tried to write and publish, but his later stuff was unreadable. A sad way to end things.
In a weird turn of events, Soraya agreed with Tammy on something. She wrote the whole Green Garcia thing off as absolute rubbish. Elodie got bored with it. Soraya was a good measure of crazy. If she wasn’t worried about it, then it probably wasn’t true.
Elodie was stagnating at about two seizures per day, even though she tried everything to stabilise. As if that wasn’t bad enough, her paragnostic senses had grown massively since her remote viewing. Whenever she was alone, trying to study or focus, she drifted away into just gliding over the beaches of Madilune, and beyond, into the sea. Her consciousness was so fickle, the moment it didn’t have to focus on socialising with other people, it was out and away. The sun went down, her body was cold, she fell out of it, starving. Another day passed. And another.
She knew her situation baffled people who had already invested so much time into getting her to where she needed to be, to more correctly, where she wasn’t going. Her stagnation was unique. Elodie read about it, and judging by the vague things Tammy said, Rising Dawn had exhausted their few techniques on how to stabilise trainees, and there were none left.
She was getting tired of rummaging through the library, seeing that the topic of post-augmentation recovery was viewed as a necessary evil that passed on its own. No authors that debated the challenges of giftedness had any thoughts on it. They were all interested in things like increasing paragnostic viewing distance, or accuracy and detail in prognostic vision. Elodie didn’t struggle with those. When she sustained a remote viewing, things were crystal clear. Control was the issue. It seemed impossible.
Elodie was afraid she was about to accept this new state as normal. Forever in progress.
And then Tammy called her into her office.
Wednesday, 15 May 2363
She didn’t need directions. She literally knew every part of Rising Dawn, save for a few restricted corners. Tammy was leaning over her desk, looking ninety-nine percent zen, as she had been in the last few weeks. She passed over a document for Elodie to sign.
It said they released her to go back home.
“We don’t have a legal basis to keep you here any longer,” Tammy said.
“Is that it?”
Elodie had a knot forming in her stomach. What if this was their way of saying that she had failed them? That they were just sending away without mending all the things they broke?
Tammy reached for her hand.
“Honey, I really don’t want you to go,” she said solemnly.
“Then why?”
“Your optimal future dictates it. Familiarity with your former life will help you make the next step in stabilizing. It will help. This isn’t me giving up on you. It’s me trusting you.”
The facts painted a different picture. The group she was placed in had already finished their training. They were assigned to hubs, put on projects, or returned to their departments with a little extra power over their reality. After the first few weeks, none of them even had a flinch of a seizure. Keeping it together was basics.
“You’re lying,” she said. That sounded way too honest. “I’m still falling apart, and no one knows why.”
“I think we both know why you’re falling apart, sweetie,” Tammy said and stroked her hair. “You’re too powerful. It takes time to carry that sort of burden. Everyone is putting too much pressure on you. Including me. You deserve a break.”
Elodie knew what Soraya would have said to that.
It didn’t help that a few days ago she had accidentally read an article lying open on Augustina's desk that discussed the research of gifted seizures, arguing that only a certain amount can be had before they start inflicting damage on the rest of her brain. It was a paragnostic episode she didn’t want to remember. It was clear what it meant. Elodie was like a dumpster fire everyone was afraid to touch or take responsibility for. Saying it was because she was “too powerful” was a nice thing to say to Seravina, but it looked like her investment was tanking on this occasion.
She left without a word.
Tammy let her mull over it, but Elodie already felt unwelcome. She took her things, which weren’t many. Rising Dawn had given her everything she needed while she was there. She’d thought she would hate it, this lack of showmanship, this clean cut from her previous life.
People could get used to anything. That was the big reveal. Even the current, the new image of the world, the constant pulls and pressures. And that it wasn’t getting better.
Elodie was reluctant to go back to her flat in central Madilune. Their home AI still remembered her, but it felt like a lie. This wasn’t actually the same person coming back home. It was someone else.
The sea breeze was stronger here, and there was salt in the air. It was cold inside. Soraya wasn’t home, but the place was tidy. That meant she was spending too much time at work again. She turned on the lights, and all the memories rushed in. She wasn’t prepared. There was so much of her in every inch of her flat that Elodie was sent into a paragnostic fit, bombarded by the memories. All the mornings, the shades of colour she selected carefully for nights out, makeup, clothes, wine and books, homeware, art. This year, last year, the year before. There was so much joy and lust for life in that person, an admiration for beauty and a thirst for laughter. So much energy. Elodie curled into her bed and smelled the covers. The memories felt like cheap echoes of someone too far to reach. Divided by a single, big line that split the before and after. Elodie shook, letting out tears for the first time.
She could never be that person again.
From Techno Tapas to Techno Pancakes
Thursday, 16 May 2363
When Elodie woke up, there were three things to note. Smell of pancakes. Sound of techno. And the occasional “yes” when the beat dropped. It was past ten a.m. No one should have been home.
She carefully got out of bed and went for the kitchen, the source of the hallucination itself.
The music was playing at a low, crisp volume. There were pancakes on the kitchen counter, and Elodie could swear that this was the closest she had ever seen Soraya to food. She looked around as she was presented with a cup of coffee, and Soraya, pulling up a timer that counted down from thirty minutes, was acting like this was business as usual. It was late. This was her way of saying they haven’t got time. Nice and quiet, like a considerate flatmate. Most importantly, without a gifted joke.
“Syrup?” she asked.
“You have got to be kidding me.”
Elodie wasn’t sold on the reality of the situation.
“Fine, no syrup then,” she replied, mock offended.
Elodie had a sip of coffee. The real thing, not the decaf the gifted insisted on. The first after months. Rising Dawn didn’t like their trainees to engage in any mental stimulants. Even now, she really shouldn’t. It felt good to disobey just a little. After all, Tammy just told her they needed some distance.
She opened a news site, and the first thing she saw was a headline about the Institute. A scathing op-ed about the plans to release a new generation of tola.
“It’s official? They gave you a budget and everything?” she asked Soraya, who rolled her eyes.
“Guess who won’t be sleeping for three months?” Soraya grabbed her own cup of coffee. “Me. Poor me.”
The article said something about the new librarian AI that was just activated and how it blatantly violated all directives that forbade the production of this kind of technology for a simple archive minder. It mentioned that the Institute had found a snea
ky loophole in the shape of the library that enabled them to build the world’s most advanced AI, because a special law protected all knowledge archives. It would take years before they could take them to court without harming the existing libraries all over the world. This was all written before they even moved on to the main topic, which was how much they hated when the Sight Institute launched a new generation of tola. The arguments turned more personal, attacking Seravina Giovanotti herself and the individuals who were reported to be heading the research of the new wave. At the bottom, Soraya Gourrami.
“And you’re listed as a proper researcher?” Elodie asked Soraya, who was waiting for her to read the article. Even when junior researchers moved mountains to deliver projects, their names never got mentioned. To have a role big enough to warrant a jab in the media was a career landmark.
Soraya lowered the volume of the music.
“I think so, yeah,” she said and shrugged. Modesty? Soraya? What was this? “The breakthrough came partly from me, but I’m still technically just assisting Dr Doreti. And Dr Lian. And of course, they named Frederich the alchemical liaison, so someone will have to deal with him. But they shouldn’t really put my name in as if it matters. It just cropped up a lot. I bet that’s why.”
She sat down.
“But enough about me. As far as I understand, Rising Dawn has weird lunch policies, so my first executive decision as the mentally intact roomie is that I’ve made breakfast mandatory. I heard that routine is good for people with brain damage. Is that okay?”
One insult to the gifted. This was finally normal. Soraya, asking if something was “okay”, less normal. She didn’t even ask for permission to buy booze on Seravina’s expense account when they were working late on Fridays. And now she was asking so innocently. Stepping on eggshells around her. Making breakfast.
“Do you think I made a mistake?” Elodie asked.
“No, of course not,” she said, twirling the handle of the cup. “Always coffee first. Then food.”
“So we can’t be serious about this yet?” Elodie replied.
“If I wasn’t there telling you that the gifted suck, you’d feel much better about yourself. So ignore me. Ignore me,” Soraya said with intensity.
“I deserve better than being a mental wreck. I should have listened to you. I’ve been up for five minutes, and it’s a surprise I’ve not passed out yet.” Elodie took another sip. The coffee was heavenly.
“Wrong,” Soraya said, sitting into a soldierly posture. “You did as you wanted, and that’s always the best course of action. I understand it sucks, but you’re in the belly of the whale now. Punch through, or dissolve in its digestive juices. And I’m sure you can punch through. This is easy.”
She flicked her hair backwards, imitating the same thing Elodie did when making a point. It made her laugh, but then she remembered how long it’s been since she did something like that, and the dread settled back in. Elodie wasn’t sure she could be herself again.
“Do you think something went wrong? With my augmentation?” Elodie asked her. Soraya was her last hope. She wouldn’t pull punches.
“You’re just doing really badly. Like, step up, no one has time for this. So what if you survived several complications and a hostile invasion?” she said, and it made Elodie laugh again. She missed the Institute humour.
“And this whole breakfast thing? It’s not like your boss would ask you to keep an eye out on me so that I don’t accidentally jump out the window,” Elodie said.
“There’s that, and the fact that a couple of amateurs decided to try and raid the Institute.”
“I heard. And you’re still not sold on this Hopefuls conspiracy?”
“That question was, again, asked on a public Institute network, and you really need to learn stealth,” Soraya said, and blew steam off her cup. “Of course the Hopefuls are a thing.”
“Aha! I knew it! Conspiracy queen. And they’re out to steal my brain?” Elodie replied.
“You’re joking. Someone used that as an official explanation?”
Soraya seemed more shocked by this than the existence of a cult of crazies.
“Tammy did. And Augustina didn’t correct her,” Elodie argued.
“Then they’re either lying or they have no idea about what the Hopefuls are to the point where they’re not equipped to run Rising Dawn.” Soraya glanced at the time nervously. “Eat your pancakes,” she said and pushed them closer.
“So it’s like a gifted bogeyman story? And they’re saying it to scare me into stabilising?” Elodie asked.
“If that’s the case, then sure, they want your brain,” Soraya teased, packing her stuff.
“You’re holding out on me.” Elodie pointed out.
“Can we have this conversation after you’ve completed your training?”
No, no. Soraya was actively avoiding this. And she wouldn’t get away with it.
“Excuse me, little hypocrite. You talked your way into accessing all my medical data. You owe me,” Elodie said. Soraya threw her stuff on the couch.
“The telepath will read you. Seravina has information on topics that Rising Dawn doesn’t get access to. This is one of them. You are part of Rising Dawn. Let’s just go to work.”
“But you say that you’ll tell me later, so how does that make sense?” Elodie resisted.
“Listen,” Soraya said. She’d make this dramatic. She always did. “I'll tell you right now, but here's what you have to do. Associate it with something marginal, like drinking water. Don't attach any emotion to it, and you don't think about it when you’re at work. The basics of telepathic protection.”
She sat next to Elodie at the breakfast bar.
“The Hopefuls are real, but they don’t want your brain. They’re broken people who love a label; that’s it. They’re nothing but unstable, pathetic criminals with no concept of consequence. Our telepaths found nothing resembling a plan on the ones that attacked us, and I’m pretty sure they scraped them.”
“Scraped?” Elodie already regretted asking it.
“Off the record telepathic intrusion. It’s so deeply violating that it doesn’t leave much of a person behind. ‘Doesn’t exist’,” she said with air quotes.
“If that's all true, then why would they tell me I was in danger?” Elodie asked.
“There was a secret panic in our circles some time ago. It took off with lots of people piling on stories upon stories about how the Hopefuls were doing weird stuff to our ‘hopeless world’ in the name of Green Garcia. According to them, he was the only one of the Five who got it right after he went mad. You can’t make this stuff up. It was classic mass hysteria. Eventually, of course, someone had to encounter a Hopeful. Then they saw how useless they were. I guess some legends lived on. Even the gifted can’t resist a bit of panic. Anyway, come on, let’s get ready.”
Soraya got off the chair and started packing her stuff again. The tap of knowledge was closing. At least Elodie found something Soraya hated more than the gifted.
“I’m not done yet,” Elodie protested. There were so many more questions. Where was all the knowledge about the Hopefuls? Why would they be associated with Green Garcia? How come her own mentor wouldn’t know the truth, or if she did, why would she lie?
“I’ll tell you everything you want to know about the Hopefuls—when you finish your training. I’m serious. I don’t want you thinking about something so dirty and annoying when you’ve already got things to work out.”
“Not a fan of this educational approach,” Elodie protested, “and where did you even get all this info?”
“I’ve been part of this game for a long time, and I’ve had to look into things that would make your eyes bleed,” Soraya replied.
“Yeah, I know.”
And straight away, Elodie knew that she’d said something wrong. The temperature dropped a few degrees. Soraya stopped moving or smiling.
“You know what?” she said, trying badly to keep her tone casual. “Did you see so
mething?”
This paranoia. Just when Elodie thought it was getting better.
“That you’ve been at the Institute much longer than me,” she replied. At the back of her head, she sensed the current of the futures, and for the first time ever, Elodie could see some of them pop up as if she had entered a search term into a database, and she saw pathways that she could follow to strong possible outcomes.
It was beautiful, but poorly timed. She felt an urge to follow them, but Elodie knew it would mean a certain loss of control. She wasn’t strong enough to sustain a single vision.
“Sorry, that one’s on me.” Elodie heard Soraya’s voice in the kitchen, which appeared farther and farther. She hoped she looked awake in front of her.
Elodie sensed a few of the pathways disappearing, and new ones appearing.
She was fighting to stay present and pushed it all away.
“I’d tell you if I saw something,” Elodie said. “I know it’s a big deal. So shut up,” she tried to joke.
“Eat your damn pancakes,” Soraya replied and opened the same article.
Elodie relaxed. Situation diffused.
Dealing with outsiders was hard going to be hard, and if that wasn’t hard enough, she’d have to choose to live with the one person who went mad when any mention of giftedness came up. This was her reality. The old Elodie had it in her to bring everyone together. The new one had to do the same.
“I hope pancakes aren’t the only thing you can make,” she said to Soraya. “I could use some variety.”
When You Go Full Circle and End Up in a Spiral
An official announcement of a new generation of tola was a big deal. Uneducated masses believed that the agenda of the Five was just a show that the Institute put on to keep people believing that they are doing something purposeful, not just making money and spreading Madilunian soft power. Seravina wanted both, and tola was at the sweet intersection.