CHAPTER SEVEN
Three Betazoid days later Tammas had made no progress in learning to speak. He spent most of his time sulking, unable to find a way to better communicate the difficulties he was having. Of course, the Xerx’s household believed his acting out went beyond mere sulking. Most children who were out of sorts could grumble, complain, maybe even throw a tantrum, but since Tammas had not learned to use his voice, and the staff was forbidden to respond to his psychic outbursts, he was left with nothing better than to try their patience by simply getting in the way. And it wasn’t that he was just preventing them from doing their work. He was actually creating more work, even going as far as breaking glasses, or knocking furniture over, which for the most part appeared accidental, but they saw through him.
Tammas wouldn’t have known he was acting out, for much of the stuff going on was subconscious. He did know that he was lonely and he wanted desperately for that loneliness to end with Deanna Troi. Xerx was patient, but as a reservoir of answers Tammas found him empty. He wasn’t allowed to tap into that resource. Not being able to relate to the strange new way that he felt was making life even more frustrating. This puzzled him because Mr. and Mrs. Garcia didn’t have any issues communicating, and he felt certain what he was experiencing was similar, just more potent. At first, Deanna had been a calming influence on him and he had worked hard on the tasks Gart set before him. Now, he had slipped back into trying to communicate by thoughts. Several times he had attempted to establish a link with Deanna, but Gart effectively blocked it. Tammas was building some resentment towards Gart. A story his mother had read, something about good cop bad cop, kept coming to mind, and he wondered if they were playing him. He could make sense of that, but that would suggest paranoia. Paranoia fed into his myth making skill that he utilized to explain life phenomena, which he was warned not to trust at this stage of his development.
One of the problems with using his voice was Tam had discovered that he hadn’t actually spoken intelligibly at the café. When he had heard his voice played back to him by a speech therapy program he had been shocked into silence and was even more reluctant to speak. He knew he could make noises, but they were horrible noises, and he had no desire to hurt his ears, much less cause anyone else such discomfort. It was bad enough that his voice sounded harsh and explosive to him from the inside, but hearing the recording of his voice had been down right frightening. He was sure that that couldn’t be his voice. It just didn’t sound like him, and he wasn’t buying the story that no one thinks their voice sounds like their voice, because everyone hears themselves from the inside out.
Tammas was sitting in the therapy lab, looking at his monitor. Gart and Deanna were next to him. The computer display was an animated view of the human mouth and tongue. The computer would speak and the animation would show him what the anatomy was doing to produce the sounds. His job was to emulate it. It was the worse game he had ever played. Even Strategema was less boring than this one. He sat there, defying the computer’s request that he try again, as if it might irk it or change its response. Tammas screamed in his head at Gart who ignored him and reached for another biscuit. Tammas was so angry he didn’t even want one of those, stupid, chocolate covered wafers.
“So, how’s your mother,” Gart asked out loud, before chomping down on the biscuit. He made the face of someone savoring what might be the very last morsel of food for months to come. Mentally, he sent reassurance to Deanna Troi, who sat across from him: “Trust me, Deanna. If you’re going to be a good counselor some day, you are going to want your clients to do most of the work.”
“But he’s so frustrated,” Troi returned. Out loud she said, “Oh, she’s fine. She’s not too pleased that I dated a human, recently, but she’ll survive.”
“You mean Riker,” Gart said more than asked. “You really should try these biscuits.”
“Thank you. You’re right, these are excellent,” she said, wondering just how many people knew about Riker. It wasn’t like she lived in a small town where everyone knew every one else’s business. Of course, more people than not seemed to know her business and it was, no doubt, due to the importance of her mother. Famous because her mother was famous. Everyone wanted to see how the next generation would turn out. So she knew deep down that the running gossip about her and Riker was less to do with telepathic transmission and more to do with just good, old fashion “in your business,” behind your back sort of talk.
Tammas’ eyes narrowed at the mention of Riker. He may not have realized it consciously, but he was responding as if Riker was competition. Out of habit, he tried tapping out Morse code, sending the translation directly to Gart’s PADD. But since Gart was talking to Deanna, and drinking his coffee, he appeared uninterested in the words scrolling across the screen. Even when Tammas made the words flash in contrast to a flashing back ground, and added sound bites, Gart just kept on going. Gart was even unimpressed with Tam’s mental screaming, which, had it been vocal, would have brought every mother this side of the planet running to the aid of a child in distress. It was all Deanna could do to not respond to all the histrionics playing across Tam’s face.
“I really don’t think I will make it as a counselor,” she thought to Gart, hiding her wince from Tammas. It was crucial he didn’t know just how much his mental cries were affecting her. Thank god for chocolate, she thought, having another biscuit.
“You have great potential, Deanna. And I believe you are on the verge of a major breakthrough,” Gart told her mentally.
“More like a major break down,” she jested with him. “This Riker guy is driving me crazy.”
“Is he?” Gart asked. “Or are you simply trying to ignore some internal facets of your being that his unique light has caused to sparkle?” Out loud he said, “Tammas, speak it, don’t think it.”
“You and your analogies,” Deanna laughed.
Tammas struggled to say something and they turned to listen.
“Why? I ate y oie.” Mentally they heard “I hate my voice.”
“Your voice sounds fine,” Gart assured him. “You just need to slow down and enunciate all the words.”
“This sucks,” Tammas stated slow and clear. The computer repeated it, giving him a visual of the body mechanic at work. “Inefficient,” he added.
Gart and Deanna laughed. “Indeed, it is. But almost every species you meet, especially humanoids, will require you to converse in an oral fashion, not only to communicate, but to fit in socially.”
Tammas sighed heavily. “This can’t be. Even this psyche book of yours says that eighty percent of human language is conveyed through visual components, such as gestures and facial expression,” Tammas said. Though half his words were inarticulate Gart and Deanna both knew what he had said.
“Yes, the book does say that,” Gart agreed.
“You really are coming along well with the speech therapy program,” Deanna said. “I hear improvement with every minute you spend with the computer. Perhaps you would find it easier if you imagined your voice as a musical instrument.”
“Nice analogy, Deanna,” Gart praised, raising his coffee in salute.
She communicated with her eyebrows. The return was not lost on Tammas.
“This is a game,” Tammas said. “Everything you do communicates. Smile, eyes, lines in your forehead… Body language. Why am I just now seeing this? And why do you ignore my gestures?”
“Until just recently, you never had to use gestures,” Gart said. “For the first time in your life, you are being forced to deal with people on equal terms. Part of what we are teaching you is not to rely on your empathy. I submit to you, if you become a master in reading body language, people would swear you were reading minds regardless of whether you were a telepath or not.”
“I want to learn. I want to spend more time with Deanna,” Tammas said, taking his time so that each word was distinct and separate.
“He really learns quickly,” Deanna thought to Gart.
“Like anyone else, when he wants something bad enough,” Gart agreed. “And if you make a game out of it, it holds Tammas’s attention longer. He’s obsessed with games.”
“Aren’t all boys?” Deanna asked.
“Tammas more so than any other child I have ever worked with. Tammas, if I give you the day off to spend with Deanna, will you promise to only use your voice?” Gart asked.
“Yes,” Tammas said, the sudden loudness of his own voice scaring him.
“Would I be imposing on you, Deanna?” Gart asked.
“Not at all,” Deanna said. “You’re paying me, remember? Extra credit.”
“As if you need it,” Gart thought. Out loud, “Well, go on. Both of you get out of here.”
Deanna had made a list of things for Tammas and her to do and was crossing them off as they accomplished them. The last thing they checked off was having an ice cream cone, while walking through one of the many garden-parks available to them. There were couples walking in the park and a family playing with a Frisbee. A dog ran to and fro between the family members chasing the Frisbee but never catching it. It barked loudly, wagging its tail, pausing in its game to greet Tammas.
“I see animals love you,” Deanna said.
“I’ve never met a dog I didn’t like,” Tammas agreed. “Or any animal I didn’t like.”
“What about people?” Deanna asked. She made it sound like a simple question, slipping it in through his defenses. It no doubt got through, maybe because the dog was distracting him, but she could tell he had a visceral reaction to the thought of some people he knew.
“I don’t do too well with people,” Tammas admitted.
“But you like them alright?” Deanna asked.
“Some of them,” Tammas mused. He ignored the family waving at him as their dog returned to the game of Chase the Frisbee.
“I love you, Deanna,” Tammas said, hardly interested in his ice cream.
Deanna touched his shoulder. “I know. I love you, too.”
“I don’t think Riker’s your type,” he said.
Deanna only smiled. She had no intentions of discussing this with him.
“What do you want?” Tammas asked.
“I don’t understand the question,” Deanna said, though she sensed his intent.
Tam’s face reflected his frustration. “What is Riker? What do you want? Is he balance? Is he interesting? What are you looking for?”
“I don’t know,” she mused. “Someone who’s seen the world, I suppose.”
“What world? From what altitude?” Tammas asked. “I’ve seen several worlds.”
Deanna laughed. “No, that’s sort of a figure of speech. A euphemism for well traveled and seasoned.”
“Me?!” Tammas pointed out.
“It means I want someone who’s knowledgeable about people and places. Someone who is interested in learning new things,” Deanna continued to muse. “Someone that would never be boring, always challenging me to learn new things.”
“All of which describes me,” Tammas said.
“Tammas,” Deanna said, her tone very serious. “We can only be friends. It would be inappropriate for us to be anything other than friends, first because you are a client, and second because of the disparity in our ages. Do you understand?”
“Age is irrelevant,” Tammas said. “Mental and physical ages do not necessarily line up linearly, or always correspond to a person’s mental age.”
“Interesting. You left out emotional age, which is also important. I don’t think you’re ready for an adult relationship,” Deanna said.
“I will be someday. And, even if you’re right, how will I ever know if I am ready if I am not afforded the opportunity to experiment. Shouldn’t you at least give me the chance?” Tammas asked.
“No,” Deanna said, trying very hard not to laugh, for fear of hurting his feelings. She remembered her first crush, a teacher long ago, and the power in that feeling had never been forgotten.
“Is it really because of our age disparity, or is it more that you yourself are not ready for a relationship?” Tammas asked. “Maybe that’s the real reason you haven’t given Riker even an opportunity to demonstrate his ability to become more than he currently is.”
Deanna stopped in her tracks, almost rebuked him, but remembered his age, and then, realizing that he had analyzed and spoken in truth something that perhaps she had been unwilling to consider. For a moment she wondered if this wasn’t just Gart in disguise, or if Tammas were an alien adult in disguise. Maybe she did owe Will a chance, an opportunity to demonstrate that he is actually more than he seems, a brash young man with only one thing on his mind. Maybe she should take Will to the museum. Test him.
“Do you like sports?” Deanna asked.
“I don’t like watching sports,” Tammas said.
“Neither do I, but do you like playing?” Deanna said.
“I have never tried,” Tammas said.
“Well, do you know how to ride a bicycle?”
“If I can drive an anti-gravity fork lift,” Tammas said. “I’m sure I can figure out a bicycle.”
“Really? Where did you learn to drive an anti gravity forklift?” Deanna asked.
Tammas sighed. “In another time, on another world,” he said, sing-song fashion, sighing heavily, with a wave of his hand.
Deanna laughed. “You sound as if you’re very old.”
“I told you, I was born old,” Tammas said. “Isn’t that what the say about Capricorns?”
“I don’t do astrology,” Deanna said. “Besides, I think you can only be a Capricorn if you were born on Earth. Something about how the stars line up.”
“Maybe that’s why it’s an ancient religion,” Tammas said.
“Was it a religion or a philosophy?” Deanna asked. “I can take you bike riding tomorrow. I think you’ll enjoy that. Oh, and tomorrow evening, I have a Tai Chi class. Would you be interested in learning?”
“Tie cheese?” he asked.
“No, Tai Chi. It’s a form of martial arts, from Earth. It is physical fitness with a philosophy for healthy living embedded in it,” Deanna said. “It really helps me relax, and it was something my father use to do.”
“Use to?”
“He’s past on,” Deanna said.
“A euphemism for death?” Tammas asked.
“Yes,” Deanna agreed.
“My parents are past on, too,” Tammas said.
“Do you want to talk about it?” Deanna said, feeling very hopeful that she was about to make a break through. Gart had told her about his mental readings, but knowing details was not the same as a subject bringing them to the surface of his own mind for the purpose of sharing.
Tammas paused, studying the horizon as if searching for an answer, or maybe watching a bird hovering in the sky. “Talk about what?” he asked presently.
“How they died?” Deanna asked.
“Who?” he asked and began walking again.
Deanna followed, suppressing her eagerness at wanting to get at the information that she felt sure Tammas was repressing. It would come out in its own time, and so there was no need to force it. The mind was able to protect itself from things it was unable to handle, and Tammas would remember when he was ready. Occasionally the trauma would try to surface from his subconscious, but his brain would quickly repress it, pushing it down so fast that it never became a complete thought. Instead, the thought manifested itself as an Obsessive Compulsive Behavior. She heard the song in Tammas’s conscious mind, “the Laughing Vulcan and his Dog,” noticed that it got to about the third chorus before his awareness of the song was stronger than his awareness of the ice cream, and he had to actively force himself to stop singing it. This merely shifted the behavior of singing to another quirk. Tammas chewed on his lip.
“So, are we on for tomorrow?” Deanna asked. She wanted real bad to go back to his story about his parents. She felt so close to a break through that she felt that if she were to nudge him just a little he might remember and he would be healed. Of course, if she nudged him and she was wrong, it could have the opposite effect. She chose to let it be.
“Okay,” Tammas said. He would have agreed to anything to keep in her company.
Deanna wanted to extend their time together, mostly because she still felt very close to a breakthrough with Tammas.
“Have you seen the latest holographic technology?” Deanna said. “They just opened this place up down town and the game capabilities are over the top. It’s called a holo-suite. Do you like role playing games?”
Tammas shrugged. He did like games and was familiar with many computer based games, for playing alone or in tandem through the IS-Net, but he had never been to a holo-suite.
“My father always loved westerns,” Deanna said. “How would you like to be in a real live western, starring us?”
It took them about twenty minutes to arrive at the holo-suite, and it was the most impressive gaming system Tammas had ever experienced. In the blink of an eye, a nondescript room, with a grid like pattern on the floor, walls and ceilings, could become an entire universe ready to explore. Deanna verbally programmed the scenario: “Earth, the Old West, somewhere in Texas, small ranch, horses, and I’m the Sheriff.” After it appeared, Tam asked “Who said Rome wasn’t built in a day?” Deanna couldn’t help but laugh, and then they established some rules for game play. Tammas managed to fall into role-playing very well, and soon learned he could pick up new accents and languages just as fast he could pick up new instruments.
“Hey, Ma,” Tammas said with a Texas draw while simultaneously chewing on a weed. “I thought you said you killed ‘dem ‘dar outlaws.”
Deanna nearly burst out laughing, but managed to contain herself less she lose points for breaking character. They had mutually agreed on a point system and breaking character was the fastest way to loose points. She came out of the log cabin, drying her hands on her apron, and squinted at the rider quickly approaching. Her sheriff’s badge sparkled in the sunlight as she stepped out of the shadow of the cabin. She wore a plaid shirt with a denim skirt and cowboy boots. Tammas was wearing overalls, with no shirt and no shoes.
“Well, son, that’s the thing about outlaws, and Texans. You kill one, you got to kill their brothers, too,” Deanna said.
“Law of the west, I expect,” Tammas said.
“Law of the west,” Deanna agreed, and spit.
Tammas broke character, laughing hysterically.
Early the next day Tammas returned to the holo-suite by himself and created his own role playing games. He figured, if he had to do speech therapy, why not make it fun, and so he tied his speech therapy program into acting lessons. Over the following week, we would call up old Earth movies, picking most at random based on titles that looked interesting, and then following up on actors or themes that he liked. He chose the characters he would play and then moved through the scenes reciting dialogue that came to him via his neural implant. The whole while he acted the computer would grade him on speaking the script and presenting the appropriate facial expression. The first day of this, he got in two whole movies before Deanna interrupted him for lunch and a talk therapy session.
Tammas stared at her, as usual, as she drove, studying her every movement as she steered the vehicle. She smiled at him, wondering what she was doing that could hold his attention for so long, and then turned her attention back to the path she was navigating.
“Deanna,” Tammas said, seriously. As if he were ever not serious, she mused. “May I ask you a question?”
“Well, of course,” she said. She was curious why he even asked. Asking if he might ask was either a new game, or he had figured out that their were social rules that came with speech, and limits to what people were allowed to ask depending on good taste and good company. She steeled herself for something heavy.
“Are you familiar with this Earth movie called the Poseidon Adventure?” Tammas asked her.
“Um, no, I can’t say that I have ever heard of that. Is it good?” she asked, wondering where this was leading.
“Well, I’m no critic,” Tammas said, pausing as he watched her laugh. Her teeth were nice, and she brushed her hair out of her eyes. He was uncertain at why she laughed, but he pushed on. “I’m very puzzled. It’s about this luxury liner that gets flipped by a rogue wave and the people are trapped inside an upside down boat. A few people make their way to the bottom of the boat, which is now the top of the boat, hoping someone will be there to cut through the hull and pull them out.”
“Sounds rather dreadful if you ask me,” Deanna said.
“Exactly!” Tammas agreed, as if she had just struck his point for him. “Why is it called an adventure? It’s filled with people drowning, getting burned, getting injured, and making poor decisions out of fear, and six people out of hundreds come through it all with their lives and these awful memories of love ones and strangers dying horrible deaths, but they call it an adventure! Can you see someone selling it to their kids? ‘Hey, kids, let’s go to the Poseidon Adventure where we can have death served to us in all these cute, bite size chunks! Doesn’t that sound like fun? Get in the car anyway! We’re going and that’s final.’ What were people thinking back when this was made? Why isn’t called the Poseidon Tragedy? Or the Poseidon Disaster? Where’s the adventure in that?”
Deanna couldn’t help but chuckle at his animated gestures. In some respects, his mannerisms reminded him of the video-biographies of James T Kirk. Tammas often went from very stoic, emotionless qualities, to over dramatizing every word with extreme gestures and facial expressions, his voice stalling at certain places as he emphasized certain phrases as if they were almost musical. If she hadn’t known better, she would swear he was impersonating Kirk.
“Did you get anything out of the movie?” Deanna asked, still trying to think of an answer to his question.
“Yes, this awful song. It was the only song this one character seemed to know, and it’s stuck in my head,” Tammas said, shivering. “There’s got to be a morning after.
Ugh. What kind of music is that? I mean, it fits, if you happen to be one of the six survivors, but, ugh.”
“You’re familiar with the Odyssey by Homer?” Deanna asked.
“Yes, it’s an epic poem,” Tammas said, as if he were reciting text book information, but had nothing emotional or personal to connect the story to him.
“Yes, but are you familiar with it?” Deanna asked, emphasizing the word familiar. “Look, our whole lives are these adventures. That movie is like a little vacation, with some really good things and some really awful things. It’s a reflection of life. There is good and there is bad, but all in all it’s how you perceive it that makes it an adventure, or a disaster.”
“What are you chewing,” Tammas asked.
“Gum,” she said, wondering if that was as far as he wanted to study today’s philosophical question. She was a little disappointed and decided to say as much. “I felt what I said was very profound. Did you hear any of it?”
“Gum?” he asked.
She chuckled, and showed him the gum she was chewing by blowing a bubble. “You never had gum?” Deanna asked. With a free hand she retrieved a pack of gum from her bag and handed it to Tammas. “It’s an earth treat. Spicy cinnamon flavor, enhanced with vitamin C and anti plaque, and bacteria inhibitors to help prevent tooth decay and bad breath.”
Tammas examined the pack, and traced the lettering. “Spicy cinnamon?” he mimicked her voice. He removed a stick, unfolded the paper but not the foil. He tasted it. He felt a tingle in one of his teeth and shivered
“Don’t eat the foil,” Deanna said.
Tammas removed the foil and examined the hard, flat gum. He looked at her, and back at it. How could something so hard be so chewy? It was so brittle it was easily broken in two.
“Put it in your mouth and chew it,” Deanna said.
Tammas put the gum in his mouth. At first it was dry and crumbly, but then it all became one, solid lump of malleable mass, and the flavor exploded in his mouth. His eyes were wide with excitement, and even a tear formed, and he was tempted to fan his mouth. He had never tasted anything like it.
“Don’t swallow it, chew it,” Deanna instructed. “Also, save the foil. When the flavor is gone, or you tire of chewing, wrap it up in the foil, and put it here, and I’ll dispose of it in a matter-energy recycler later.”
“And this is good for you?” Tammas asked.
“Actually, yes. It wasn’t in the old days, but, as with everything, it evolves with time. It’s been around since the ancient Mayan civilization, if I’m not mistaken,” Deanna said. “There are all sorts of flavors. We can try others later if you like.”
He chewed loudly, nodding.
“Chew with your mouth closed, though,” Deanna said. “We’re here. Are you ready to learn to ride a bike?”
Learning a bicycle wasn’t a piece of cake. He didn’t pick it up as easy as he had the antigravity forklift, but he did manage to avoid falling more than twice, and was soon able to keep up with Deanna as they followed a path along the shore. They stopped about sunset, walked out onto the beach, where Deanna spread a blanket, and broke out the meal she had packed for them. They talked about the day, as Tammas examined the sand. He removed his shoes and pushed his feet into it, feeling the warmth it had captured from the sun. He noticed that many of the pebbles were shaped like tiny stars. He scooped up a hand full and brought it up closer to his eyes to confirm what he thought he saw. In his hand were tiny star shaped things mixed in the grains of sand, sparkling in his palm as he let it slip through his fingers. It reminded him of a book title from a list of old Science Fiction he had been browsing to adapt for a holosuite self-learning language session.
“Those are the shells of little animals,” Deanna said. “We call them star shellers, and they’re as plentiful as plankton on Earth. This beach is comprised of coral sand, the remnants of animal shells, with only bits of quarts and ruby and stuff. These particular shells come in different colors, but don’t get much bigger than that. The inside of the shells are highly reflective, and that’s why the sand here seems to sparkle in the sun and moonlight. It’s especially sparkly as the waves roll back, stirring the sand, exposing broken bits of shell.”
They sat quietly watching the horizon as the sun fell behind the planet, and the last ray disappeared into the sea, as if extinguished by the ocean, or Poseidon’s greedy hands. Of course, Poseidon was an Earth myth, he reminded himself. Then a marvelous thing happened. The sea lit up with the luminescence of sea life and it was like looking at a liquid plasma ocean. Though bioluminescence was not a hot light, just a cool, green shine that permeated the water, the sea seemed to be boiling with light. There were occasional streaks of oranges and reds and blues, but green diffused through the ocean lighting it all up at first, and then it began to fade and brighten at different places like lightening illuminating different parts of a cloud. Deanna explained that the light came from the star shellers as they shed their shells to feed. Once fed, their skins would harden to make a new shell, and by morning the sea would have lost its glow.
“Do you ever dream that you’re a jelly fish, just floating in the ocean?” he asked.
“No,” Deanna said. “Do you?”
“No,” Tammas lied, wanting his answer to match hers.
“Do you write your dreams down?” Deanna asked
“Yes,” he said. “Many of them are published online. You’re welcome to read them if you like. I’ll email you the link.”
“Okay,” Deanna said, noticing his eyes moving up and to the left.
“Done. You’ll find it when you check your email next,” Tammas said.
Deanna was surprised. “You’re implant is multitasking? And you can get a signal here?”
“There’s a tower on that building there, and I’ve got four bars,” Tammas explained, pointing to the antennae array.
Deanna understood four bars as a representation of signal strength, but she wasn’t sure she liked the idea of an implant that accessed the net. She herself wouldn’t like it, and there was the potential for internet addiction, and it seemed to her that Tammas was especially susceptible due to his social difficulties with real people. She would have to keep an eye out to ensure he wasn’t substituting his telepathic abilities for a technological ability. Ultimately, it all boiled down to one thing, a lack of social boundaries. She would just have to introduce him to lots of physical activities and other people.
“I love you, Deanna,” Tammas said.
Deanna hugged him.
Deanna had always enjoy