Reset. Back to square one. I didn’t find ‘my’ Isis and I didn’t find an answer. I did find an incredible release and spent the next few cycles, spending time with Loxy teaching her what the ‘sisters’ of Isis had taught me about making love and experiencing sensuality with Loxy in a whole new light. Not only did I demonstrate to Loxy that I had new capabilities, but I unlocked stuff in her that she didn’t know was possible to feel, and maybe if I wasn’t cycling, in a few years she would be a master at what I was teaching her. For the first time in our relationship, she was being surprised more by me than I was by her. The first time I successfully completed a non- penile orgasm with her, my flesh heated up to the point Loxy had been scared that I was sick and needed a medic. She literally pushed away from me because I was suddenly that hot, and it took her moment to adjust, like when you step into a bath that is too hot. She helped me confirm my theory about what one might see if you had an infrared camera. Using several tricorder, anchored in several ideal spots near the bed and over the bed looking down, we videotaped our session together and played it back in various light, from infrared to ultra violet, and it was like watching the matrix filming two tantric practitioners lighting each other up. It was rather spectacular to watch. We anchored the cameras and watched the play back while holding each other and Loxy was rubbing my stomach, not anywhere close to down there, but because of what she was doing and the video, I reset.
I like watching the video of Loxy positioning the camera above the bed, from the perspective of the camera. She looks happy, as she was enjoying plotting how the ‘session’ will go. Damn, you’d be amazed how easy it is to reset when you get distracted. Watching us brought a new level of fun to our play.
Then, Loxy and I took our ‘play’ time to the Holodeck. We played Emma Pearl and John Steed from the 1961 the Avenger show, then we did a couple episodes or Remington Steele, and a couple shows of a BBC comedy, “May to December.” We also engaged in some longer themed play, like we became the couple in the movie the Thin Man; afterwards Loxy decided she wanted a dog.
“A dog is a lot of work,” I said. “But I want one,” Loxy said.
“Can we have holographic one?” I asked. “Okay,” Loxy agreed.
We acted out the “Big Sleep,”
“The Circle of Two,”
“the Blue Angel,” a 1930’s German film, in German! “Fair Love,” 2009, and clearly there was theme here that recognized Loxy’s youth compared to my age. She arrived in my life young, maybe 18, and would have been forever young had we not been separated by the transporter, and now, she was subject to aging, and was probably twenty if we count all our time together. 15 to 30 year age difference was not unheard of in humanity’s past, but less common in the 20th century. In order to get away from our trend, I suggested she pick an Anime for us to play on the holodeck, and what does she go and choose? “Bunny Drop!” in which Masako hooks up with the oldest character in the series!
“Really! I am not a grandfather,” I protested. Oh, wait, according to this time line, I am, we are, but Loxy didn’t know it yet.
“Oh, come here, Daddy,” Loxy said, hugging me to her. “Baby girl needs you.”
“We’re really kind of off, aren’t we?” I asked.
“No, John. We are really kind of right. This is love. It’s why we’re so good together!” Loxy said, kissing me. “How about Gravitation, where I play the 28 year old Noriko, who is married to the professor?”
“Again with the grandfather?” I asked.
“Oh, well, yeah, good point, you don’t look that old, and nothing like the Professor,” Loxy said. “Would you like to be John Wayne?”
“I don’t reckon it matters what we play, we always end up in bed,” I said. “It does seem that way,” Loxy said.
“Plot contrivances!” I said, pretend sulking. I scooted closer to her, turned towards the ceiling, and took her hand.
“We haven’t done any music videos yet,” Loxy said. “You are fond of music. It would be a shame to waste all you learned from Gene Kelly.”
“We should bounce back to television shows,” I said.
“Before we do, can you explain why the ‘Land of the Giants’ costumes look a lot like ‘Lost In Space’ costumes?” Loxy asked.
“I cannot,” I said.
“Want me to be Judy Robinson?” Loxy asked.
“In that lavender dress, the lavender hose and boots, and the yellow top?” I asked. “Unless you prefer the yellow and orange,” Loxy said. “But I was also thinking the silver space suit.”
“Yeah, that’s hot, too,” I agreed. “It’s now on my list.”
“Dr. Smith, come out and play,” Loxy sang.
“Oh, come on!” I said, tickling her!
“Oh, I could also be Judy Jetson!” Loxy said. “The cartoon?”
“That would be so hot!” Loxy insisted. “And you could be Daddy Jetson, and I want some credit to go to the space mall with my friends, and so you make me earn it.”
“Um, you definitely spawned from my brain,” I said.
“Oh, and I bet if I died my hair blond, I could so be Anne Francis in Forbidden Planet,” Loxy said.
“That sounds like fun, too,” I said, thinking Alizée’s music video: Blonde. “Quite frankly, there isn’t an end to this list, you know?”
“I know, right?! We have to do an episode of Northern Exposure!” Loxy said, climbing back on top of me. “I could be Shelly and you Holling?”
“I really liked Shelly,” I said. “I am noticing,” Loxy said.
“Are we ever going to get out of bed?” I asked.
“Not as long there are good couples to play,” Loxy said.
“I could be Matt Helm and you could be any of number of hot characters I brought back to my room on the pretense of taking your picture for a calendar,” I said.
“Could I be all twelve months?” Loxy asked. “If we ever get through today,” I said.
“Well, then, Sir, I give you permission to play through,” Loxy said.
And we played. We played so long that she worried about how hot I was getting and she asked me to cum normally so that I might sleep.
Reset.
Tracking the most ideal day, always involved Loxy. Any other day, was runner up. But I still engaged those, looking for a way out. So, I decided to become a Buddhist monk. Of course, I couldn’t be a monk. I mean, even if I went through all the schools, every time I engaged, I would still be starting at novice, because no one advances forwards in a discipline without time, even if you know everything. So instead of flaming robes of orange and yellow, I dressed in two shades of green. I looked like a leaf. A Monkish leaf. I proceeded to the Hangar Deck and started playing with sand. I was going to create the most perfect sand mandala of all time. I am pretty sure, I was going to weave the ‘great bird of the galaxy’ into it. That’s Rodenberry if you didn’t know. Maybe have four TARDISes. It’s got to be balanced.
I opened the hangar door, I dimmed the lights, and I sat down to start on my master piece.
Looking out the hangar doors on the day side, you could see a sliver of the planet, but no stars. On the night side you could see some stars. I paid no attention. I learning how to drop sand.
Collins approached. “Um, Captain?”
“The flight deck is closed,” I said, not looking up. “Divert all incoming back to base camp. Utilize the transporters.”
“Sir?”
I wasn’t happy, so I swept up the sand, put it in a container, and started with a clean floor. “I would prefer you not hover over me, I am just getting started,” I said. I was aware that she retreated, but I could still feel her staring.
Loxy arrived next. “John, what’s going on?”
“I will collect the penalty tomorrow. Today, I am doing something different,” I said. “You can practice this somewhere else,” Loxy said. “We are using the flight deck.”
“Not today,” I said, frowned, swept up the sand, put it in the used sand container. “John,” Loxy said, patiently.
I put my hands on the floor. Stared at the floor where I was trying to visualize the masterpiece. “Loxy, I don’t want to raise my voice. I have done everything else. I am now doing something different. Maybe it won’t make any difference. Maybe I will get this out of my system and tomorrow you guys will proceed forwards as if I didn’t put a major kink in how your day is going, but today, the Flight Deck is mine. Now, everyone has their orders. Envelope day for everyone else, sand mandalas painting for me.”
Loxy retreated. I started over. The next interruption was by Loxy, accompanied by three Tibetan Monks.
“Really?” I asked. “Are they holograms?”
“It depends on your interpretation of reality,” one of the Monks said. “Nice,” I said.
“There is a Buddhist temple inside Avalon,” Loxy said. “There is a temple for every major faith in Avalon. And I figure, if you’re going to do this, you might as well do it right. This is Dawa, Tsetan, and Rabten. They’re going to teach you and participate, because the ceremony usually requires four participants.”
“Have you prayed over the sand?” Dawa asked. I had not.
The monks collected all my sand, even the sand in the used can, walked to the end of the hangar deck and tossed it out the hangar and into space. They returned with the empty containers.
“Let’s begin again,” Dawa said, sitting down in front of me.
Tsetan and Rabten sat, too. Using the site to site replicator, they created sand and the tools of the trade, and they educated me. We used a chalk line to lay out a geometric grid as a foundation to lay the sand.
“Umm, isn’t this cheating?”
“This geometric pattern is the underlying fabric of reality,” Tsetan said. “All energy has a signature pattern, and we all flow along the path of the given frequency. Change the frequency, you change the path.”
“Before we practice, we must pray,” Rabten said.
So I learned a prayer. My lesson in sand mandalas began. We used the seven colors to just fill in the spaces of the grid, nothing elaborate, just laying colors. Of course, the object was also to be aware of what the other was doing so that when the pattern came together, it was symmetrical. If I got it wrong, Dawa swept it cup, carried the sand aft, and tossed it out into space. He would return and we would start over. If I sneezed and moved one grain of sand, it would be swept up, and tossed out into space. If what I was laying crossed over into the wrong grid, tossed into space. If I adjusted how I was sitting and my clothes or foot or hand touched the sand and moved just one grain, we started over. After several hours I was sore from sitting and my hand was cramping and I made mistakes. Started over. If I stood and stretched, Dawa began sweeping up what we had laid.
“What the heck?” I said.
“Once we start, we finish,” Dawa informed me. “So, how long does it take?” I asked.
“It takes what it takes,” the three monks said together.
Oh, bloody hell. Okay, fine. I got this into my head that I was going to do it, and so, by God, I am going to finish it. Believe me, you don’t have to live forever to engage in OCD magical thinking sort of ways. Actually, since I started this day, I have been doing a lot better in breaking OCD habits, like not getting song stuck in my head, so finishing this was less OCD and more just pig headed stubborn.
I sat back down and we began again. And I fell asleep in the process. Reset.
I started again, but sent a message direct to my three monks telling them something drastic like the fate of the ship and the entire universe depended on them helping me create a sand mandala on the flight deck. They, of course, responded right away and met me on the deck. They asked about my robes, and I told them I chose this flavor out of respect for not being a true Monk and asked them to sit and pray over the sand with me. I even started the prayer, which was enough to impress them in my seriousness. And when the interruptions came, I pointed to the floor and the stack of envelopes. Collins read the first one, marked ‘1’ and retreated. Loxy came next, and Collins informed her she was to take the next envelope in the stack, marked number 2.
Dawa started sweeping up the sand. “What happen?” I asked. “What did I do?”
“The sound of her boots on the floor moved a grain of sand,” Dawa said. “I saw it to,” Tsetan said.
“Really? One grain of sand tumbled from your placement, and we start over?” I asked. “I am very particular,” Dawa said, standing to take the sand and toss it into space. “If we’re going to do this, we might as well do it correctly.” He proceeded aft, to toss the sand. “How far out does the envelope stack have to be?” I asked.
“It depends,” Rabten said. “Everyone has their own energy, their own level of noise and effect in the world.”
I watched Dawa toss the sand. I really shouldn’t be too perturbed. Even when we finish, that’s what we do, right? We finish it, we look at it, we say a prayer, sweep it up, and toss the sand to the winds of the Universe. But how perfect does a prayer have to be to be heard? Clearly, it’s more than just the words, right? It’s about all the energies of all the chakras combine, not just brain and words and heart. Who can keep sex out of a prayer? I mean, that’s the real reason synagogues originally separated the genders. It wasn’t because males were superior or they got special education, but because the purpose of going to the Temple was to worship God, and how can I worship God when Loxy is sitting next to me and looking call cute in her summer going to church meeting and dress, and all through the songs and rituals all I’m really thinking is about getting her home so I can peel off that dress. Or, you’re thinking about every female sitting around you, admiring their form as they shift and praise, because, praise and worship is sexy, too. And, yeah, it’s possible to suppress stuff, push it to the far reaches of your mind. But if prayers have flavors, what does it taste like when something is missing? When something is purposefully withheld, how does that color the mask? When you know a partner has a secret, how does it affect your relationship? Does a prayer recited to appease ritual and or OCD taste like spam? Machined and canned and heavily salted so you don’t know what the contents actually was? How perfect does a prayer have to be and am I capable of that?!
Dawa returned from having tossed the sand. “While we in engaged in this prayer, everyone who enters should be barefoot.”
“What?” Did he know what I was thinking just now?
“You have not been continuing with your prayer?” Rabten asked. “Was I supposed to?”
Tsetan and Rabten stood up, and with Dawa, they gathered all our colored sand, walked it aft and tossed it out into space. They returned and began instructions.
“This whole exercise, from beginning to end, is a prayer,” Dawa explained. “We bless the floor, we bless each other, we bless the tools, we bless the ingredients, we pray throughout the act of creating, we pray when it’s finished, we pray as we released the prayer to the wind. This is life. We pray before we are born, we pray as we bring in the ingredients to color our mandala, we pray though out the creation process, we pray as we exit our mandala, we pray as it is scattered to the wind, and we pray even as the souls who were touch by our prayers echo us through their own mandalas, and we pray until the our ripples cease.”
“Though the pond may seem still, the ripples never cease,” Tsetan said. “The prayers never cease.”
“Let’s begin again,” Dawa said, inviting us back to the floor, where we started from scratch with new prayers and new sand.
And when I fell asleep, I set the stack of envelopes further out, I called Collins and asked her to remove her boots and to police anyone coming onto the Flight Deck, and handed her the first envelope. I told her Loxy would be next, and she would get number ‘2.’ By then the monks had arrived and I invited them to sit, without explanation, and started the prayer and so began the work. And when Loxy arrived, she took her boots off, approached the deck of envelopes, took hers, and came gently closer. She may not have stirred the sand on the floor, but her feet in the hose drew my attention, just because they are connected to the rest of her and she was standing near. Of course, because the floor was glossy black, there was the other her, the mirror her, and she was standing on herself, and my eyes naturally went down the other legs but was unable to see into the skirt, and so I drew my eyes back up, following her toes to the ankles, to the legs, to her thighs, up past the dress, to her neck and eyes. I clearly spilt a grain or two of sand, because the monks were sweeping up our efforts before I even realized the extent of my distraction.
“Sorry,” Loxy said.
“It’s my fault,” I said. “But I got to keep at this.”
“I know,” Loxy said.
“Thank you,” I said.
The monks and I got back to work.
Over time, what was supposed to be a practice sand mandala was becoming more intricate. I was slowly advancing in skill level enough that I was able to mirror what the monks were doing. If they were impressed, they didn’t show it. The fact that I knew a prayer was enough to get them to dive into the art. But in terms of skill level, they always seemed to know just how far to push me, always matching my skill level and not going beyond that level. They never made anything more complicated or intricate that I couldn’t match, but I knew, somehow, they were gauging me, following my lead or mirroring. I wasn’t too surprised. I did call this prayer meeting, and so they were allowing me to guide the prayer. I have never met a spiritual person to turn down an invitation to pray. Depending on the size of art commissioned, the prayer involved, the skill of the monks, creating a mandala could take 30 hours or more. Of course, it didn’t help that I was tired, and as the process continued, I became slower and more deliberately meticulous, and that one sneeze that was so determine to wipe this endeavor out took a great deal of effort to suppress. Mostly the block came because I knew about when to expect the sneeze and I modified my breathing trying to avoid inhaling whatever it that triggered the response, but usually I just accepted, waited, and the monks all paused watching, waiting, and then we would continue as one. A couple times as soon as we started back to work, I sneezed, and the three monks swept up the sand, threw it out into space, and we started over.
At fifty hours, ten minutes into the mandala, Jung approached. Loxy was with him. They were both barefooted.
“John,” Jung said. “I have to inform you that Aryk Flescher died.”
I kept dropping sand. One tear fell, splashed into the art, darkening the shade of sand where it fell, on the border of green and yellow. The monks started sweeping up the sand.
“It’s just one tear!” I said. “We could have worked around it.”
But my protest was too late. They were sweeping from outside in, pushing everything to the center. I stood. When Dawa returned, he remained standing.
“Is there not room for one tear in a prayer?” I asked.
“That is a different prayer,” Dawa said. “Do you want to do the other kind?”
“No, I suppose not. I really liked what we had going,” I said.
Tsetan and Rabten stood. Clearly they were done for the day. I went to stand up, but was feeling very old, just all of a sudden, drained, and tired, and Loxy helped me up.
“We should rest and come at this fresh,” Dawa said. “Impromptu prayers are really difficult to sustain. Usually there is a month long ceremony before a sand prayer is commissioned.”
“I know, but I am working with I got,” I said.
The monks bowed to me, and gathered the containers of sand, and carried them aft, to dispose of the sand and say their disposing prayer. I turned to my personal monks, Loxy and Jung.
“What happened?” I asked.
“Aryk completed suicide. He hung himself,” Jung said. “What the hell?” I asked.
“John,” Loxy said.
“It is okay, my dear. I share his sentiments. After 48 hours without incident, he was released to his quarters,” Jung said.
“What the fuck were you thinking, Carl?!” I said. “John,” Loxy said.
“Wait, wait, wait. He would have had to clear that with you,” I said to her. “He did,” Loxy said.
“Why didn’t you come and ask my opinion?” I asked.
“You gave me a letter that said to handle stuff, I handled stuff,” Loxy said. “Doctor Jung presented a reasonable argument and I backed his decision.”
“Reasonable? Aryk had a major melt down and injured someone and you both allowed him to return to his quarters?” I asked.
“We were well within protocols,” Jung said, quietly. “He was behaving appropriately. He answered the questions appropriately. I was practicing the ideal paradigm of treating people within the least restrictive environment.”
“Then he lied to you,” I said. “Don’t we have lie detectors?”
“We don’t use that to determine the state of mental health,” Jung said. “Well, maybe we should,” I said.
The monks had returned from disposing of the sand out into space. Dawa touched my arm.
“John, it’s only sand,” Dawa said.
I was confused. Did he think I was angry because our prayer was interrupted? Or was he referring to Aryk as just being sand.
“We’ll come at this again, when you’re clear,” Dawa said. “Another day.”
“There is no other day!” I snapped. “There is only today, it’s always been just today, and I don’t want anyone to die today!”
I pushed past them and proceeded to Fleet headquarters where I went directly to Midori’s brain. An attendant tried to keep me from entering, but when I pointed out I had an all access pass and she confirmed, she came in with me. Her name is Joy. I don’t know where Jerrion went, and I don’t know if it was a coincidence Midori picked attendants whose names start with J’s.
She was not feeling ‘joyful’ by my intrusion and the energy I was bringing. Clearly, I was moving sand. Midori’s brain had its own privately enclosed dome. The readout on the pedestal suggested she was in REM sleep. Joy asked me to return when her REM cycle was over, but I knocked on the glass and yelled ‘wake up!’ Apparently, pounding on the glass sets off alarms, and security beamed in. Lights came up in the room. I ignored the phasers being aimed at me. Didn’t care if they were on stun or not.
“John?” Midori’s voice came from a speaker on her pedestal. “Sorry, did I wake you?” I asked.
“Leave us,” Midori instructed her staff.
Joy and the security bowed to the brain and retreated from the room.
“You understand, now that you have woken me in this manner, I may choose to wake you in a similar manner,” Midori said.
“Bring it,” I said. “I’d like to see you get past Loxy.”
“I do like challenges, John,” Midori said.
“Great, me, too. So, let’s start with the game, ‘Tell me everything about Aryk Flescher.’”
“What would you like to know?” Midori said.
“Everything!” I said. “I want to know about his life on Origin. I want to know why he was chosen to be part of the crew. Tell me everything.”
“Everything I have on him from Origin is generalized. Summaries from colleagues and church members.”
“Church?” I asked.
“He was Catholic,” Midori said.
“I got the impression he was an atheist,” I said.
“That may be, but he participated in his Church and frequently donated a great deal of time and money,” Midori said.
“That’s all you got on him?” I asked.
“Pretty much,” Midori said. “What are you looking for?”
“We’re missing something,” I said. “Do you have his medical records? Did he suffer from depression?”
“There are no medical records,” Midori said. “He was pretty healthy.”
“How did he die?” I asked.
“Probably during the Last War. The records we have during that period are a bit fragmented,” Midori said.
“I thought you had access to everything on us!” I said.
“No. I have what I have. The Council of Five have access to much more than I have, and my associate approved my crew list,” Midori said. “And the only reason he was on my crew list was because you read a paper by him and admired him, so, I made him a candidate.”
“What paper? I don’t remember reading anything of his,” I said. “John, what has happened?” Midori asked.
“Well, what about police records? Was he ever arrested?” I asked.
Midori was quiet, but the brain was clearly sorting something. “Not that I can find.”
“That doesn’t mean he doesn’t have a record. Maybe he got a DWI and got the charges dismissed, but there might still be a paper trail somewhere,” I said.
Midori’s body arrived via transporter. I turned away from the brain and to her. Funny, I considered this her, and her brain was just a brain.
“I will have the AI scrutinize the data we have,” Midori said. “Tell me, what has happened.”
“He completed suicide,” I said.
Midori hugged me. I tried to pull away, but I was really tired, and she was strong, and, secretly, I wanted to surrender to this. She was surprisingly good at nurturing, patting my back, and synching her breathing to mine, and then once in sync, she stepped me down to a calmer rhythm. I realized what she had done only after my breathing had changed. I wanted to go back the other way, I wanted the anger to keep me awake, but the other part of me was so tired by this point. I couldn’t help but give in.
“Don’t,” I said.
“Don’t what?” Midori asked. “Love you? Comfort you?”
“I am going to fall asleep,” I said.
“Then fall asleep knowing I am here for you,” Midori said.
“I don’t want to sleep. I want to get through this day without anyone dying,” I said.
“I can’t stop you from cycling, but I can hold you, I can make this moment last as long I can,” Midori said.
I was going to fall asleep. That was unavoidable. I might extend a little further if I tapped into anger, but I didn’t want anger. And I wasn’t ready for sleep. So I chose passion. I kissed Midori. She accepted. She accepted and responded as if she had kissed me a million times before. I took Midori to the wall. It wasn’t a rough, hard, brick wall like the scene in “Road House’ when Patrick Swayze took his love interest to the wall. And I am not Patrick. This wall was glossy black and if you looked for it, you could see your reflection, but I didn’t want to see me. I buried my eyes in Midori, lifting her dress even as she undid my belt and trousers, and then I lifted her by her thighs and pinned her against the wall… And I reset.
At fifty hours, ten minutes into the mandala, Jung approached. Loxy was with him. They were both barefooted. They said nothing, so I continued working.
“John,” Loxy said. “You know why we’re here.”
“You have a question about your orders,” I said.
“I can’t medically justify keeping him in the psych ward,” Jung said. “I can,” I said. “I am the Captain.”
The monks started sweeping the sand towards the middle. “Oh, come on,” I pleaded, way after it was too late.
“This energy is not a good prayer energy,” Dawa said.
I hung my head in my head, trying to figure out a solution. Not only did they dispose of the sand from our efforts, the disposed all of the sand, because at this point, they were done for the day and there was no start over. In fact, any interruption or mistake after ten hours of work resulted in the end of prayer, and all the sand was given back to the Universe. Which is frustrating. If I was going to make a mistake, I needed to make it in the first five hours of work. And sometimes, like when trying to figure out how to keep Aryk alive, I was making more mistakes.
“John, we are really trying to work with you, but we also need to have some guiding principles,” Loxy said. “Even if you knew everything in the Universe, we don’t, and we have to be able to make reasonable decisions based on reasonable judgment.”
“Fuck reason!” I said, hitting the floor. “There is nothing reasonable about any of this! There’s nothing reasonable about life or death or the fucking Universe! It’s all fucking insane and I am trying to hold it all together.”
“John,” Jung said. “If it’s truly insane, then holding it together is also insanity. Let it go.”
“Why am I the one that has to keep letting things go,” I asked. Tears hit the deck. I laid down on the floor.
Loxy got down on the floor with me, laid beside me. She touched my face and met my eyes.
“We are with you. We’re going to see this through,” Loxy said. “I am more alone t