Chapter 17
After the meeting, Becker invited Jon to a game a pool as a pretext for a private talk. “No tech assist,” was the rule of the game. They played billiards at their own skill level. Becker was superior player, even though Jon had more hours at a table, having been forced to accompany a grandmother who was an alcoholic and pool shark to many a halls. In those days, smoking was par for the course, and the halls were thick with cigar smoke. It was dim lighting and men playing at being cowboys in a world popularized by the movie Urban Cowboy. Jon had ridden the mechanical bull at Gilley’s before the movie made it a thing. His grandfather had been a frequent patron until it burned down. Playing pool took him back to an earlier melancholy that he found uncomfortable wearing. He was aware of not liking it. Eos whispered in his ears: ‘you’ve healed a great deal since then.’ The pool halls weren’t always safe, as there were sometimes fights, but with the exception of an occasional flying can of beer, he had never been harmed thanks to staff looking out for him. Surprisingly, many of those fights started by his grandmother- she was young enough and hot enough and sarcastic enough and just drunk enough to stir up the emotions in some men. There was always a waitress or two looking out for him, and if it was too crowded, he was coloring at the bar with a steady supply of soda. Being dragged to AA meetings with grandmother had resulted in her disappearing for a while, and he being molested. The rise of that caveat nearly time traveled him all the way back. Fortunately Becker said something, twice- and it was enough to ground him in the present.
The conversation Becker and Jon held was mundane until the hostess and bar tender retired for the night. Becker leaned into in his cue. It was his personal cue, a silver ring at the end with a symbol that reflected his philosophy. It was not a Scottish Right Free Mason symbol, but it held equal significance. Jon didn’t recognize it. Martian perhaps, with Egyptian undertones.
“Why you?” Becker asked.
“I stopped asking that a long time ago,” Jon said. His effort to reposition the arrangement of opportunities resulted in no change. He frowned, but backed away, surrendering the table.
Becker was able to position his next shot while leaving the table with a disadvantage for Jon. Jon considered hitting Becker’s balls just to rearrange the table. Instead, he went for the impossible bank and surprising did nothing. The cue circled. Becker finished the game, packed up his cue, and leaned against the table. Jon put the borrowed cue in the rack.
“You suck at pool,” Becker said.
“Yeah,” Jon agreed.
“You carry a Torch. Can you at least fight?” Becker asked.
“I prefer not to,” Jon said.
“You may think you’re in charge of our expedition, but I am in command of my men in the field. It’s my job to keep them and you safe,” Becker said. “Give me a reason I should send men to their deaths protecting you.”
“There is no evidence to think…”
“Hypothetically, why should I let men die to protect you?” Becker asked.
“You shouldn’t. Protect your men and Jekel’s squad over me,” Jon said.
“You know she’s using you, right?” Becker said. “To advance her career.”
“Oh,” Jon said. He puzzled through it, wondering if this was really about that. “I thought I was using her. You didn’t use her when she offered it?”
“Fuck you,” Becker said.
“She is fucking me. Actually said my dick was way bigger than yours. Funny, she brought it up while riding me- oh, Jon, you’re much bigger than Becker. Did you actually get any penetration before you came and went limp?” Jon asked.
Jon didn’t see the punch coming. He didn’t see the floor falling up to greet him. He recognized the floor as he pushed up. He was back on his feet and confronting Becker before he had even registered a full thought. He did not raise his hands for combat, but still pushed in close to Becker.
“That’s all you got? You had to use your fists to get her off?” Jon asked.
Again, Jon was confused by the presence of the floor in front of his face, as there didn’t seem to be any transition from standing to facing the floor. He didn’t linger, he was back on his feet and getting back into Becker’s striking range. This time, Eos, and Becker’s AI interface, Georgia, intervened and separated them.
“Stand down,” Jon snapped. “I got this.”
“Walk it off,” Georgia instructed Becker. “Now.”
Becker left the room. Eos and Georgia turned to Jon.
“Let’s get you to medical,” Eos said.
Jon pulled free. “Get off me. I specify no AI intervention in this. Leave me alone. This incident is declared confidential, between me and Becker.”
Jon departed, ignoring the looks exchanged between Eos and Georgia. Eos pursued, in invisible fashion. She walked beside him as a ghost. Jon simply walked, no destination. Someone was going to stop him and he told them ‘I’m fine, leave it’ in an abrupt manner that discouraged follow through, and walked on.
“Jon, you’re injured,” Eos said.
“It’s mine, leave it,” Jon said.
“Jon,” Eos tried.
“Human privacy mode, now,” Jon said.
Eos held her position and fell back as Jon moved forward. He wiped his mouth on a sleeve, ignoring the blood. His nose was likely broken. His left eye was blurry. Jon turned into a birthing quarters, a space for enlisted to sleep. The space was likely shared by fifty men, maybe more, but there was thirty bunks. Men playing poker stood.
“Oh, don’t do that,” Jon said. “And the first one of you that reports I am here goes on report.” He softened. “May I use this bunk?”
They accommodated him and went back to their game. Jon awkwardly got in the bunk. He closed his eyes. He found himself suddenly in a mindscape. The pain shifted him there faster than he was used to coming with a slight wave of nausea, and a feel of being out of body. It was a transition from ‘real’ world to an internal, virtual ‘wonderland’ that was a mental construct derived from years of meditation, not tech assist. Tech enhanced the ease of transition and made it possible to record internal landscapes, even allow others to participate if they wanted. Tech made it possible for non-meditators to build their own virtual space for peace of mind. But this was his. The ‘room’ was a dojo. There was a man sitting on the floor, crisscross apple sauce, preparing tea in a ceremonial way. The man looked conspicuously like someone famous. A guru. A Yoda like master. He seemed amused, and was not necessarily trying to hide it. If you put a name to him, he would be Jackie Chan.
“Why the hell didn’t you flip in and take him down?” Jon said.
“Sit,” Chan said.
“What’s the point of having you as an invisible counselor if you’re not going to help deflect…”
“Sit,” Chan said again.
Jon sat down. He positioned a cup of tea in front of Jon. Jon didn’t reach for it. Chan took up his cup, sipped, and nodded. Jon took up the cup. He sipped. There was solid silence for a tangible moment. There was no clock ticking, but it was at least five minutes.
“How is your tea?” Chan asked.
“Why do things taste better in my head?” Jon asked.
“You tend to make things bigger than they are,” Chan said. “So, what did you learn?”
“I can take a punch?” Jon asked.
“You have always known that. You have always gotten back up,” Chan said. “You never run away.”
“I don’t run,” Jon said.
“You should run,” Chan said.
“Well, now Becker knows I can take a punch and don’t run,” Jon said.
“He might respect you more had you not been stupid,” Chan said.
“He was being a dick.”
“It seemed like you were trying to be a bigger dick,” Chan said. “What was that? Your fear that Orit would prefer a younger man? A stronger man? Was it necessary to attack his masculinity to recover your own?”
“Why is it if others are dick, to the point of hitting someone, they get off, but if I am a dick, and not even hitting someone, I get called to accountability?” Jon asked.
Chan stared at Jon over his cup, then drank. “What do you think?”
“Fuck me, are you sure you’re not overlapping with the Jung personality’s domain?” Jon said.
“Because I am being Rogerian and reflecting your questions back, that means I am straying into another’s duties? In Wu Wei Gung Fu, do we not reflect back our opponent’s energy?”
“So I am the opponent?” Jon asked.
“Student, opponent, tomatoes, apples,” Chan said.
“Tomatoes potatoes,” Jon corrected.
“Really? Tomato is fruit. Potato is a vegetable. Apple is fruit. Shouldn’t it be fruit fruit, not fruit vegetable?” Chan asked.
“This is a distraction from the point,” Jon said.
“You asked me to be a part of your team because of my abilities, my wisdom, and my humor,” Chan said. “I find my proposal humorous and meaningful.”
“Try messing with the grammar in Yoda speak next time,” Jon said.
Chan nodded. “Why did you choose me over Yoda?”
Jon frowned. “You go out of your way to try not to injure people. You fight when it’s necessary. You have a remarkable sense of environmental awareness, so that everything is a tool towards the greater peace. Humor tempers wisdom.”
Chan nodded. “Imposition of will goes against the Taoist philosophy of progress without effort. By not trying, we advance when nature moves us, or we’re in alignment with right thinking. Were you aware of Becker as a part of your environment? Maybe he was being dick. Maybe you needed a dick. You escalated him. You pushed a button. You got a coke out of that machine. You needed to drink it.”
Jon was silent. He sipped his tea. It tasted funny. There was blending of metaphors that resulted in a potential sexual twisting of the context. Was fighting about pent up sexual energy? Men fighting because they’re not getting laid?
“Humor. What happens to the man that drinks punch from the bowl?” Chan asked.
“I taste blood,” Jon said.
“You didn’t answer my question, Jon,” Chan said. “Jon? Jon? Jon?!”
“JON!”
Jon sat up in bed, hit his head on the top bunk, and fell back to the bed, his hands going to his forehead. He heard a woman’s laugh and simultaneous pity.
“Oh! I am sorry, Jon,” Jekel said. “Get a medic in here.”
“No,” Jon managed.
“Jon, you need a…”
“I need a trash can,” Jon said.
“What?”
Jon rolled over and vomited.
“Fuck, get a medic in here now!” Jekel said.
Jon heard Jekel’s squad fussing over him, had flashes of medics switching him to a gurney. He heard his voice flirting with one of the medics but couldn’t hold the memory of it. His next clear memory was waking in medical. Berger was there. Jekel and her squad was there. Abebe was there. Eos was visible to everyone. He couldn’t identify the medic he had flirted with, but there was too much attention on him to be seeking her out. He wanted to believe it was Loxy; the nurse running to the choppers.
“Can you speak?” Berger asked Jon.
Jon considered the question. He didn’t lead with ‘are you okay?’ He had that information. They had telemetry. Oh, nice, he thought. He saw the report and intervention. ‘So that’s what a concussion feels like.’ Eos: ‘there’s evidence you have had past concussions. Prior to joining with AI.’ Jon nodded to her, but Berger interpreted the gesture was for him.
“Unlock the confidential mode. I want answers to what happened to you,” Berger said.
“No,” Jon said.
“You were assaulted on my ship and I will have answers,” Berger said.
“I wasn’t assaulted. I just fell,” Jon said.
“Bullshit,” Berger said.
“I was engaging in rapport building exercises and became careless. I fell down. That’s it,” Jon said. “There is no assault. And now, there’s no injury. Seriously.” Jon pointed to his eye and nose. “All better.”
Berger looked up and to the right. Becker entered. There was an MP escort.
“One last chance, Becker. What the fuck happened before the AI blackout?” Berger asked.
Becker looked to Jon. His eyes had to pass through the gaze of Jekel. She was contained fury and nearly unnerved him. Jon noticed his jaw clench.
“Jon and I had a game of pool. He lost. We discussed the mission and life and we parted ways,” Becker said.
Berger stepped into Becker’s space.
“Admiral,” Jon interrupted. “There is no grievance here. I was being an ass. I got myself hurt by being stupid and falling down. The bunk bed hitting my head didn’t help any. I ordered your men not to call medical while I attempted to regain my wits. Only I am at fault here.”
Berger turned to Jon. “No more AI privacy for you. If you fall down again, you report to medical. If you get a fucking paper cut, you report to medical. Jekel, in addition to AI surveillance, one of your squad will have eyes on him for the duration of this mission. Becker, if I hear of any more falling episodes, your fault, his fault, anyone’s fault, I’ll have your ass in the brig, am I clear?”
Becker made his understanding crystal solid.
Berger turned and left. Abebe lingered, rotated on his heels and departed without adding anything. The medic cleared Jon to return to his quarters. Jon got off the bed.
“Becker, walk with me,” Jon said. Jekel followed beside Jon. “Fall back.”
“Eyes on…”
“Fall back. You can see from a distance. Privacy, please,” Jon said.
Becker walked beside Jon. They didn’t speak until they arrived at one of the wider corridors and background noise increased. It wasn’t necessary to wait. Their AI’s could hear them, and they were likely being watched by Angels at this point, even though they had not technically left the ship. Somewhere on the ship was a room of watchers assigned to people, ‘Angels,’ whose only job was to watch the people they’re assigned to the way ATC follows airplanes. Most of the interaction went unobserved, and communication was kept between them and the personal AI interface.
Becker started to speak.
“I am sorry,” Jon interrupted.
“I was out of line, Sir,” Becker said.
“Don’t call me sir. I have not earned it,” Jon said.
“You would not be a Seeker otherwise,” Becker said.
“Call me sir again, and we’re going to tussle again,” Jon said.
Becker chuckled. “That wasn’t a tussle.”
“No,” Jon said.
Becker stopped. Jon stopped with him. Jekel and her squad halted. “Why didn’t you tell them?”
“It was a private affair,” Jon said. “It was a human affair. I hold no animosity. And, I was wrong.”
“I was, too,” Becker said. He extended a hand.
Jon was confused at first, as handshaking was no longer the norm, and Becker seemed too young to hold that custom. Jon accepted his hand in his, his grip not as strong. Becker changed it to a bear paw grip.
“Oh,” Jon said. “Are you…”
“It’s a bit cloudy in here, don’t you think?” Becker deflected with code.
“In a world where all can be known, why not shine a light?” Jon asked.
“Don’t hide your light under a bushel?” Becker asked.
“That’s way older than you,” Jon said.
“Yeah, well, we all seek in our own ways,” Becker said.
“Yeah,” Jon said.
They resumed walking and parted ways at a junction. Jekel caught up to Jon.
“Please tell me that was not some macho bullshit thing,” Jekel said.
“What if it was?” Jon said.
“I would be disappointed. It’s why I like older men. Usually that shit is all played out by your age,” Jekel said.
“Due to life circumstances, I have experienced a delay in some social learning curves,” Jon said.
Jekel smirked. “Yeah, well, I expect better from here out if we’re going to remain a couple.”
“About that,” Jon said. “We’re done with sex.”
Jekel face reflected anger and pain. She pushed him. “What the fuck? Now that I am pregnant you’re cutting me off?”
“No. I am cutting you off so you don’t get pregnant,” Jon said.
“I am already pregnant,” Jekel said.
“You can’t be pregnant,” Jon said. He pulled up a sleeve and showed the tattoo dot mark. “I am using birth control.”
Jekel showed her arm, similar tattoo that fluoresced when she triggered it. “So am I!”
“There is no way we can both be on birth control and…”
“It happens. Statistically unlikely, but it’s done. I went to medical right after dinner and it’s confirmed,” Jekel said.
“Seriously? It takes like three days for the sperm to arrive…”
“Jon, it’s confirmed. It’s our genetics. It’s ours child. It is what is,” Jekel said. Her eyes suddenly narrowed and her nostrils flare- interpreting his apparent distance as calculating alternative responses. “Please don’t tell me you want me to abort.”
“I am not saying that. But we are going into an unknown…”
“I thought you were a better man…”
“Fuck, what the hell does that mean? Because I am a Seeker, I am what, more evolved than anyone else? I struggle. I worry. I fuck up all the time. I don’t know what this is or where we’re going,” Jon said.
“And you think I do?” Jekel said. “When I agreed to sleep with you, this became a potential.”
“This was a casual affair,” Jon said.
“Agreed. It was. And now it’s time to step up and play for real. You’re supposed to be the grown up,” Jekel said.
“We could put the baby on ice,” Jon said. “We don’t have to terminate.”
“We’re not putting our child in a cryo-jar,” Jekel said.
“It’s just a few cell, it’ll be alright,” Jon said.
“No,” Jekel said.
“Okay, well, I could marry you and we raise a child together,” Jon said.
Jekel laughed. “Like I would fucking marry you now. How about we just live together?”
“Okay,” Jon said.
“There is no way I am living with you and not having sex,” Jekel said.
“I would never block you from having sex,” Jon said.
“I want sex with you,” Jekel said.
“Oh,” Jon said. “Really?”
Jekel pushed him. “What’s wrong with you?!”
“Lots,” Jon said. “Keep pushing me and we’re going to tumble.”
“Like you and Becker did?” Jekel asked.
“Turns out, he’s really not my type,” Jon said.
“We have something in common then,” Jekel said. She kissed him. “You better be okay with public displays of affection.” She took his hand and led them in the direction of their quarters.
“Actually,” Jon mused. “You better be okay with public displays of affection.”
“I am okay with…”
“Because with Berger’s privacy block, our love life is going to be a porn channel,” Jon said. “And one of your squad will be watching us at any one time.”
“Oh,” Rina said. “I am pretty sure we’ll all be watching all the time. Might have to put it on MK.”
“MK?”
“Mars Knights. Mars version of TICTOK,” Jekel said. “You’re so old sometimes.”
निर्मित
Being kept is not love. Flashbacks of abuse came at her. There was a moment when she had been looking out the window on a pleasant, gentle rain and he came at her. “Who are you looking for?” ‘Watching the rain’ was an unbelievable and unacceptable statement. He punched her in the head and dropped her to the floor. He fucked her on the floor as she bled from her nose, reminding her she belonged to him. There were times when he seemed pleasant. He brought her a drink. She would wake up later confused on the transition from room to room and to find him fucking her, too groggy to resist. There was times when she was woken from a natural sleep to him punching her and then fucking her. If she said she consented to sex, he would beat her and not touch her sexually. If she said no, he beat her and fucked her and told her she can’t say no, she is the wife. She was not allowed to call friends or family. He hated her family. Her family wasn’t great, but there was no substitute family- not even his family was available to her. She was unable to keep a job because he would stalk her at work and accuse her of flirting with customers. Work would fire her because he was lingering on the property. Work doesn’t want the drama and they can’t protect people. Society can’t protect people. She had her phone with her at all times, because if she didn’t answer when he called or texted, she would be punished. Just saying she was on the toilet or in the shower resulted in conflict. “You were on the toilet ten minutes?” Saying she took a nap resulted in conflict. “All you do is sleep. You should get a job. I am the only one bringing money into this household.” She didn’t call or text anyone, because if she did, he would interrogate her about the length of the call. The simplest of texts would result in hours of nuanced contextual meaning behind each word. He would say ‘I love you.’ She hated those words so much now, she couldn’t imagine anyone saying ‘I love you’ without remembering the abuse. He had gotten her a puppy. He soon accused her of loving the dog more than him, and one day while driving to the store, the puppy kissed her on the mouth and he grabbed it and threw it out the window where it was subsequently run over.
Dragon. She was treasure, he was hoarding her. Kill the dragon. It’s him.
“No,” she heard herself saying. The ex is an enemy, but not the dragon. The dragon was before her.
She heard her ex say, “Kill the dragon.” The voice was clear and distinct.
Hearing his voice say kill the dragon resulted in noticeable resistance, even anger. “No.”
“Kill it, or it will kill you,” ex said. “Kill it or I will kill you!”
“No!” Heather said, clearly. It woke the seven. It woke the dragon. She deliberately turned off the shield. The dragon raised its head and eased forward, smelling her. She tossed the Torch to the pile of treasure. “I am a Jedi. I am the dragon. I will not kill myself. I will embrace myself and love everyone. No more fighting who I am. No more running from who I am. I am woman.” The dragon licked her like a dog would lick her, the difference being she ended up wet from foot to head.
Heather woke up on a bed. Sheros was sitting at the end of the bed. She was watching her. A trail end of a song worm pulled at her ear “let my love open the door…”
Heather was wearing her Earth clothes. She was not confused or disoriented. She felt secure in herself for the first time in a long time.
“Welcome back, Seeker,” Sheros said. “Do you want to share what you discovered?”
“Killing the ego is not my path to enlightenment. I came to this world to develop personality, give it spirit and strength and love. I will not surrender my personality, as that is the vehicle that allows me to connect with others. I will fortify it with compassion and cultivate relationships with people and ideas that respond kindly to me, not use me,” Heather said.
“Good for you,” Sheros said. “Where shall we begin?”
“I want to speak to Jon,” Heather said. “Now. Please.”
“Fair enough,” Sheros said. “It can’t be now, but if you don’t hurry, he may die.”