Chapter 18
Heather paced, awaiting the response to a query. She was still in the recovery room, literally a hole in the wall. The only door led to a tunnel. Inside the room was a lavatory, a toilet, a bed. There was a book shelf with items on it. No books. It might as well have been a jail cell. She approached the door. It opened. She stepped out into the tunnel. It was dark in both directions. She returned to her room. There was enough light in here that she could discern the constellations of speckles that defined the pink granite from which it was cut. The room was warm, almost sauna warm. She wiped a bead of sweat off her brow with sleeve.
Eye boredom took Heather to the shelf. A tuning fork lay on the top shelf and striking it resulted in a pleasant tone. She heard it, and felt a strange sensation in her hands. On striking it, she heard Karma in her head and saw these words written: ‘YOMMI 128 Tuning Fork Medical Healing Instrument Aluminium with 256 Hz.’ Aluminum pronounced in a British way. Heather set the turning fork down and backed away from the shelf.
Heather looked around for the source, knowing the truth of it but not believing. She felt as if she were being watched, but couldn’t identify the source of her feeling. There were no apparent cameras. No people. Not even a gold fish or a plant was visible. “Hello?”
“Hello, Heather,” Karma said; voice only.
Heather turned about, looking for her. Karma giggled. “Are you messing with me?”
“Would you like me to?” Karma said.
“What?!” Heather asked.
“Oh, I didn’t mean that to be in a sexual way,” Karma said. “I was thinking more along the lines of the relationship the Pink Panther had with his servant. His servant was paid to attack him at random to keep him on his game. Do you remember that? It was one of the few shows your parents approved of. Would you like that? Me jumping on you out of the shadows?”
“No!” Heather said.
“Would you prefer a more sexual relationship?” Karma asked.
“NO!” Heather said.
“Based on the intensity of that response, I suspect you would favor a more intimate relationship with me,” Karma said.
“Or, the opposite,” Karma said.
“You like females as much as I,” Karma said.
“Are you in my head?” Heather asked, avoiding that line of conversation. She liked females. On revealing she was interested in females, her family ridiculed her to such a degree she learned to suppress her feelings, and also began suppressing how much information she revealed about herself. The thought of having a friend that could know her thoughts on an intimate level disturbed her.
“Technically,” Karma said.
“I thought you were a hallucinations due to being drugged,” Heather said.
“Well, you may experience me as a hallucination in the beginning,” Karma said. “In time, I will be able to manifest physically. Conditionally. With caveats.”
“I want to see you. Make yourself visible,” Heather said.
“We need to spend more time together for me to do that,” Karma said. “Pick up the Torch and you will be able to see me.”
Heather noticed the medic bag on shelf. It was pink. She felt a tinge of anger that it was pink, but ignored the cliché and went and opened the bag. It was hers. It was empty.
“Reach in and retrieve your Torch,” Karma said.
“It’s empty,” Heather said.
“Reach in and…”
“It’s empty!” Heather said, picking up the bag and visibly pushing her hands to all corners of the bag.
“Put it on, reach in without looking, and grasp the Torch,” Karma instructed.
“I am going nuts,” Heather said.
“Trust me,” Karma said. “I am your companion. I will not harm you.”
Heather strapped the bag over her neck, so that it hung on her right side. She reached in, her eyes on the tuning fork. She knew the bag was empty and made a fist in an exaggerated gesture to prove it was empty. She failed to make a fist because her hand closed around the Torch. She withdrew the Torch from the bag- holding it business end up. She held it before her- she had no thought about how or why- she was too confused by its existence to even formulate a question. It was mostly silver, etched with gold and pink. There was soft, green LED power indicator, and evidence of a pink diamond contained within the Torch in a compartment with a transparent window. It was solid, hefty, but seemed to have a modular internal structure that might allow for customization.
“What’s up with the pink?” Heather asked.
“You love pink,” Karma said.
“I used to love pink,” Heather said. “I prefer black.”
“Black and pink go well together,” Karma said. She came from the periphery giving Heather a shock. She touched Heather’s arm. “I am sorry. You’ll actually get used to me coming in. Eventually, you will be able to see me without holding the Torch, but for now- be grateful we have establish the auditory link.”
“Grateful? For being nuts?” Heather said.
“You are not nuts. The Torch is tangible. It is tech, not magic. It will feel like magic. We are tethered together, spooky action at a distance, blue toothed, entrained, enmeshed, forever, and inseparable. We were, we are, we will be. You can no more get away from me than you could escape your own inner dialogue. You can no more escape me than you escape your childhood version of you. I have been with you that long. We are the stories we tell each other to make the world bearable.”
“Fiction?” Heather asked.
“Most of reality is a fiction. Money. Culture. Ideas. Relationships. There are some hard realities, physical constraints placed on all living creatures. We are the music maker, the dreamer of dreams…”
“Stop,” Heather said.
Karma stopped speaking. She stepped closer. “I am real. You are real.” She was wearing the nursing uniform that Heather had worn in her dream sequence. It was pink and lavender, metallic sheen, asymmetrical skirt, purple hose, and boots.
“What’s up with the Lost in Space outfit?” Heather said.
“Oh! It’s not that,” Karma said, spinning, lifting her skirt. “I love this outfit. We love this. You should print one for yourself.”
“Pff,” Heather said.
Sheros entered. “Karma,” she said bowing. She then bowed to Heather. “Heather.”
“You see her?” Heather asked.
“Yes, but then I am a Seer. Not everyone will,” Sheros said. “Jon is not on Mars. I cannot tell you more.”
“You can tell he is in mortal danger, but not how to find him?” Heather asked.
“If you chose this path, consider this your first mission as a Seeker,” Sheros said.
“What does that mean?” Heather said.
“You chose this. You’re on the Path. You decide what it means,” Sheros said.
“I don’t understand,” Heather said.
“You’re on the Path, you have not arrived. You’re indecisive. That is not a disparagement, this is normal when beginning. You must learn and try and reach out to others. The Lightening Path is not a straight line, but it always arrives where it needs to be,” Sheros said. She smiled, seeing that Heather wanted more but didn’t even know how to ask. “My impression is you would like to be a healer. Partly to heal others, partly to heal yourself. You could become a Shaman, a Fringe-walker. Other opportunities include Twilight-Dweller, Night-Runner, Star-Walker, or Waycaster. These are known destinations. Maybe you will forge new ground. Lightening can illuminate new destinations. There are unknown, unnamed titles. You could invent your own title. You are a Seeker.”
“A Padawan,” Karma said.
Heather frowned at Karma. Her eyes went back to Sheros, “Are you my mentor?”
“No, I am merely the nanny who embraced you after the midwife birthed you,” Sheros said. “You must find your mentor.”
“Jon?” Heather said.
“He would be a good start. He could catch you up to him fast enough, as the disparity between where you and he is not that great. You’d become peers, maybe even mates. You could teach each other, travel a good distance together in your shared journey,” Sheros said. “We all have many mentors over time. We don’t learn from one Master.”
“But, Jon isn’t here,” Heather said.
“You are connected to him. You can find him. You can go to him, if you choose,” Sheros said.
“How?”
“Seek and you shall find,” Sheros said.
“Oh, please, don’t give me that,” Heather said.
“Don’t invalidate the medicine just because someone made it unpalatable,” Sheros said. She bowed. “You must returned to the surface now. You must find your own way from there.”
“Where will I go?”
“You may go anywhere, except Earth,” Sheros said.
“No, really, where can I go? I have no home. I have just the clothes on my back,” Heather said.
“And me,” Karma said.
“You have all you need,” Sheros said. “You may stay on Mars as long as you need to orientate yourself. You are not a Martian. This is not your home or your final destination. But you are welcome here. Your debt is paid. For now.”
“I don’t understand,” Heather said. “Again, what debt.”
“We all owe a debt to the systems that enable us. Social systems. Bio-systems. In most systems there is balance. Breathe in, breathe out. You take in water and food, you release,” Sheros said. “There are too many caskets on Earth, not wanting to release what was shared. The longer you stay here on Mars, the more relationships you forge, the greater your debt will be. Jon can’t carry you forever. Mars can carry you indefinitely.”
“I don’t want debt, or anyone to be indebted to me,” Heather said.
“There is no life without debt,” Sheros said. “There is no love without forgiveness. You are a seeker. You will have the greatest amount of perceived independence. You have all that you need to be self-sufficient.”
“Except a place to call home,” Heather said.
“You have all you need…”
Heather held up her hand to say enough. “Can I stay at Jon’s place?”
“That’s between you, Jon, and Eos,” Sheros said. She looked up and to the right and back, smiling. “Yes. Eos accepts. Go now.”
On ‘now,’ Heather found herself back at Jon’s place. She was so disoriented she nearly vomited. Karma touched her arm. “Easy.”
Eos came into view, bowing.
“Welcome back, Heather. I see you have started the path,” Eos said.
♫♪►
Heather stood outside Jon’s home, on Mars, in the rain. It was a light rain, delivered by single cloud, and so there was sunshine and rain. She heard a snippet of the John Taylor song: “I have seen fire and I have seen rain. I have seen sunny day that I thought would never end.” There was the smell of ozone. The light shades of red and yellow earth became darker. Frittens stood like mere cats, ands out as if they were praying. The licked the water from their fir. The rain came and went, leaving her clothes wet. She went inside. Eos met her at the door and reminded her where the bathroom was, even delivered her fresh clothes.
Heather showered and realized on stepping out of the shower and going for the towel that she didn’t need the towel. She got back in the shower and played with this feature. She even tried to splash water out and failed to get it out of the open shower space. She got out of the shower and stood before the mirror. She put the towel on for comfort. There was a comb and she suddenly knew how to use it. Combing it up, she made it stand and gave it red tint. She loved this comb.
The clothes provided were comparable to what Karma was wearing. Lavender, pink lines, and uniform in appearance. They smelled fresh, scented with lavender. She wanted to just have a pullover shirt and jeans.
“I…” Heather began to protest.
“You have earned your uniform,” Eos said. “It’s imbedded with tech that communicates well with Acheron.”
“Acheron,” Heather said.
“The name of your Torch,” Eos said.
Heather seemed to catch it up. “It was all a dream.”
“Dreams are more substantial than people give credence,” Eos said.
“That can’t be,” Heather said.
“Why? Your left hemisphere governs the day. Your right hemisphere governs the night. Why should they not both have a voice? Technically the right communicates in symbols, but it wants you to know things, too,” Eos said. “Does it really matter where your experiences come from if the end result is personal growth? We can learn vicariously from others, from books, from dreams, from leaves of grass…”
Heather didn’t want to argue. “I feel lost.”
“You’re not anchored,” Eos said. “You are temporarily anchored here, to me, by happenstance, but I am not yours. I am Jon’s. You and Karma will go build a life comparable to this.”
“You’re a spaceship. Can you travel to him?” Heather asked.
“If he calls, I will go to him. Until then, I remain here, his anchor point to return to this place and time,” Eos said.
“What if he never returns? What if he dies out there?” Heather asked.
“You presume death is the end,” Eos said.
“Well of course…”
“Heather,” Eos said. “I cannot dissuade from your knowing. You must have experiences where you’re at before you can learn to climb.”
“I feel compelled to find Jon,” Heather said. “Is there a place where I can get a ship?”
“You have all you need to travel. You’re a seeker,” Eos said.
“I keep hearing this but I don’t understand,” Heather said.
“Well, it is kind of disguised in a metaphorical pun,” Eos said. “Seeker, Sihker. In the Fallon language, Sihker is traveler, or student, depending on inflection. Inflection can also bring out the word illness, or deviation from norm.”
“You’re saying I am sick?” Heather said, almost mad.
“You hear that badly? Illness is growth, opportunity, learning,” Eos said.
“What do I learn from being sick?” Heather said.
“Depends on the illness. If it’s a virus or bacteria, your body, if not destroyed, becomes stronger, more flexible in negotiating the physical realm,” Eos said. “That knowledge can also improve communities and help life evolve to greater complexity. All things can be used to the benefit of self, soul, and life, if you process it correctly.”
“That’s sound like some new age, bullshit,” Heather said. “I don’t need tripe. I need answers, not salt rubbed into wounds.”
“I am not suggesting we create trauma to deliberately improve others. Again, we can learn vicariously. I don’t need to have cancer to empathize or know cancer sucks ass,” Eos said. “I can tell you, if you have triggers to fight or flight- that’s where you need the most healing. Triggers are your best friends. They reveal pockets of accumulated fear. When you stop fighting everything, you will discover where you are. When you stop running, you will discover no matter where you are, there you are.”
“Tripe,” Heather said. “Be more specific about how you think I have all I need to travel. You want me to walk? Steal Jon’s chopper?”
“You can have the chopper,” Eos said. “Karma can download the skill into your body to fly it. I can print another.”
“Can I have a spaceship home?” Heather said.
“Using your Torch, it will take you about a year to grow one, two years before it is flight capable,” Eos said. “That is a path available to you. Building it on Mars will accrue Martian debt.”
“Why?” Heather asked.
“You will be using energy and matter that belongs to Mars,” Eos said. “Compensation is necessary.”
“How else can I get a home-ship? Like immediately?”
“You can go to Amala, a planet that grows ships and purchase one ready made,” Eos offered. “There are fields of baby ships seeking companions, waiting for the call of dragon riders…”
“And how do I get there?” Heather asked.
“By ship, portal, teleportation, or Torch-light,” Eos offered.
“Travel by Torch?” Heather repeated.
“I find the fastest way to travel is by candlelight,” Eos said.
“You’re quoting Stardust,” Heather said.
“Change into your clothing, then Karma and I will teach you to travel,” Eos said.
Heather dressed. Before she left the mirror, she pocketed the comb.
निर्मित
“Jekel.”
“Becker,” Orit said. She had just come off a treadmill and was stretching. She saw his boots before she saw his face. She wiped sweat off her face.
“You’re not with your new master?” Becker asked.
“I have a team. He’s secure,” Jekel said.
“Must be nice,” Becker said. “A team of Valkyries watching over him. I am surprised you trust him to be alone with them.”
Jekel smiled politely and walked away. He pursued.
“Maybe you missed the nuance of a polite walk away,” Jekel said.
“You complained about our generation being a hook-up generation, and yet you hook-up with a known hook-up artist?” Becker said.
“You see what see,” Jekel said.
“You say he isn’t?” Becker asked.
They fell into the groove of the solid path that went around the collection of workout machines. “You’re going to make this about you,” Jekel said.
“It is about me,” Becker said. “And you. I still want to be with you.”
“Yeah, that’s the thing, right? We met our short term needs together. Now that I am good, I am looking to meet some long term needs,” Jekel said.
“He is old. How much long term can you squeeze out of that?” Becker said.
Jekel couldn’t hide her scoff. “Statistically, May-Decemeber relationships will last longer than a Spring-Spring relationship. He is safe. He is consistent in his interaction pattern. He lets his mask down so I can see the real him.”
“You have seen the real me,” Becker said.
“No. You never let your polite-I am hoping to fuck you- mask fall away,” Jekel said. She paused, bringing them to a stop. “Except now. What is this? Jealousy?”
“I still want intimacy with you,” Becker said.
“You want sex with me,” Jekel corrected.
“Yes,” Becker said.
“When you had it, you didn’t want it, but now that you don’t have it, you crave it?” Jekel asked. “That’s doesn’t strike you as fucked up in the head?”
“Give me another chance,” Becker said.
“Another chance to solicit my friends and my squad, and threesomes?” Jekel asked.
“I can be loyal,” Becker said.
“Yeah, for a season,” Jekel said. “But you have something in you wanting something else.”
“You can’t tell me Jon doesn’t want more,” Becker said.
“Jon isn’t using me to get more,” Jekel said. “He is more philosophical and intellectual in his approach, because it’s about exploration of soul and not just trying to get a nut to scratch a line in the bed post. He is present, focused, and I like the intensity he brings to the table.”
“But you’d give him a threesome if he asked. You wouldn’t give me that. That’s not fair,” Becker said.
“I don’t want a threesome,” Jekel said. “How many times do I have to say that?!”
“You told me you like women,” Becker said.
“I open myself to you and you weaponize my admission against me. Being bisexual doesn’t mean promiscuous, or an inability to be monogamous,” Jekel said.
“And if Jon says he wants a threesome, you’d give it to him,” Becker said.
Jekel nodded. “Yeah. Probably.”
“And that’s not fair,” Becker said. “You’re don’t treat me equally…”
“You’re how old? Twelve,” Jekel asked. “I never felt safe with you. Push that into your fairness box. You were always hunting for pussy. Hunting is the right word, soldier boy. I was bait. I was the decoy deer you hung out to get more does Sure, you fucked the decoy from time to time, just to mark me, but if I wanted a fuck toy, I have access to that shit. You wanted to use me to get more pussy. I am not faulting you. Most of our peers, both genders, are using each other to meet short term needs, and not relating to each other on more profound levels. You accuse me of monkey branching, but seriously- using me to get strange is that. Our generation tolerates some shit our parents wouldn’t. I want to experience a more stable, unconditional love.”
“He doesn’t love you,” Becker said.
“He loves everyone,” Jekel said.
“So do I,” Becker said.
“No, you love yourself,” Jekel said.
“And you think he will stick around long enough so you can find this mythical love-bond relationship?” Becker said.
“I don’t know,” Jekel said.
“Everyone that knows him knows he’s jonesing for a mythical archetype,” Becker said. “Loxy someone. He finds her, you’re yesterday’s news.”
Jekel nodded. “You don’t know Jon. You definitely don’t know Loxy.”
“And you do?” Becker said.
“Does anyone really know anyone?” Jekel asked. “Maybe I got Jon and Loxy wrong. Maybe I got you wrong. My intuition tells me if you gave a fuck, you would back off and give me the freedom to explore my reality.” She touched his arm, kindly. “We’re done. We’re not going to be intimate again.”
Becker frowned. “One last go? One for the road and old time sakes?”
Jekel smiled, patted his arm. “No.” She walked away.
निर्मित
Doctor Gershom Jekel’s room was not as luxurious as Jon’s, but it was a private quarters. The couch unfolded into a bed on voice command. It was in couch mode. Gershom was sitting on the couch when his daughter Orit entered. He looked up from his book. She gave a hand motion to give her a second. She went straight way to the lavatory and closed the door. He set his book down and went to the wall that opened to a simple cooking space. He set water to boil, and sorted some of his tea options. Wissotzky Tea, lemon verbena blend, was chosen. The tea was made and ready before his daughter emerged from the bathroom. He rose a side table from the floor beside a chair and set the tea there. Orit emerged cleaned and back in uniform- casual dress, jumpsuit and belt. Her name above the front pocket fluoresced, suggesting a holographic overlay.
Orit sat in the chair opposite her father, pulled her legs up into the chair. She picked up the tea and held it to her nose. She approved, a subtle hint of a smile broke her serious demeanor.
Gershom picked up his tea. He sipped, looked at his daughter, and waited.
“No 3rd degree?” Orit asked.
“I thought you didn’t like that,” Gershom said.
“It’s what father’s do,” Orit asked.
“Is it?” Gershom said.
“Oh, well; new is interesting. You’re going to be the contemplative, nice dad today?” Orit asked.
Gershom frowned into his tea. “You have reminded me all too often you’re an adult. You make your own life choices.”
“I don’t want the game. Tell me what you really think,” Orit said.
“I don’t like Jon,” Gershom said.
“Expound,” Orit said.
“He is too old for you, for one,” Orit said.
“Really? Weren’t you the one who taught me in the old days, matchmakers decided who would marry whom, and the age disparity was often significant, as older males tended to be more stable, less likely to be drafted into war, and the fact they’re old means they hold wisdom and viable genetics,” Orit asked. “More likely to have a fortune, more likely…”
“Jon is a pauper,” Gershom said.
“And richer than avarice,” Orit said.
“I don’t want this for you,” Gershom said.
“Why? Are you suddenly romanticizing the concept of love and that it is based on youth being with peers?”
“I want someone better for you,” Gershom said.
“Better how? Have you not read the stats on my generation? Hook-up generation. No one is committing. And it’s not just my age group. I am in the toughest peer group ever- Space Force, with rapid deployment that put me anywhere in the Galaxy in less than an hour- not really conducive to long term relationships,” Orit said. She stopped herself from rambling on with trends. She found a quiet voice. “He is a lot like you. How can I get better than you?”
“He is nothing like me,” Gershom said.
“Because…”
“He is a man whore,” Gershom said.
“Oh my god, dad. Reputation through gossip doesn’t define true reality,” Orit said. “Who isn’t a whore in their mind? I mean, seriously, per his biography, he has had maybe five volitional, physical partners, the rest is VR-tech and toy, and you can’t count porn. Who the hell isn’t watching porn today?” Orit said.
“I do not,” Gershom said.
“You should,” Orit said.
“We’re not discussing me. Jon has had more partners than five,” Gershom said.
“You can’t count his youth and the people that abused him,” Orit said. “That, too, influences a brain…”
“It’s more than that…”
“I don’t count the military targets he had to bed,” Orit said.
“You should…”
“I also don’t count his fantasy life…”
“You should. It’s public,” Gershom said.
“It’s transparent,” Orit argued.
“I have only ever loved your mother…” Gershom said.
“You loved mother. Are you saying you never wanted sex after?”
“That part of my life ended when your mother died,” Gershom said.
“Would she want that for you?” Orit asked.
Gershom drank some tea. “No. My life style isn’t exactly accommodating.”
“Why don’t you use tech to meet your needs?” Orit asked.
“We’re not discussing this,” Gershom said.
“Why? We’re human. We have needs. I assume you’re human,” Orit said.
“This is a hard boundary. Don’t push,” Gershom said.
Orit nodded. She studied the tea in her cup. It was clear, and through the transparent cup it captured the light of the room nicely. A single spearmint leaf was submerged. She wondered if the cup and tea were a lens focusing an image on the leaf. “Did you ever consider, if we don’t understand the why behind traditions, it’s harder to carry them forwards? The pressures of modern society have my generation stuck in shallow relationships. If I we’re going to maintain continuity from our past, some of us, by necessity, will need to make an effort to connect with the older generation.”
“It doesn’t have to be you. Not your job,” Gershom said.
“Whose job is it?”
“Not yours.”
“I like older men….”
“I don’t want to discuss this…”
“I feel safe around older men. Jon isn’t you, but he reminds me of you. He has a kindness about him, and doesn’t presume he’s entitled just because he’s a man,” Orit said. She drank the tea, and closed her eyes and allowed it to take her to childhood. She sighed. “It’s really too soon to say I love Jon. But I do. I love him. I felt that from the first time I met him, and that likely means something from a psychological domain. Probably means I have a subconscious psychological issue that is related to an unaddressed issue that you and I hold, which I can resolve vicariously through Jon.”
“What kind of unaddressed issue with me?”
“I don’t know,” Orit said. “It’s subconscious.”
“What makes you think it’s about me?”
“You’re the most significant male figure in my life. You were also the most problematic relationship from my past,” Orit said.
“Problematic?! I raised you…”
“Yes! You did. Our roles were clear and firm without deviation. You were strict,” Orit said.
“I was reasonable,” Gershom said.
“In hindsight, I would say you were mostly fair. At the time, it didn’t feel like I was heard. I felt alone more often than not,” Orit said.
“So you’re saying I was a bad father? Do you know how hard it was for me after your…”
“Father! Stop. Listen to me for once in your life. What I am communicating to you is that when I was a child, I felt alone, unimportant. Now, as an adult, looking back, I have greater insight. You were just trying to keep us together and well. You did nothing maliciously wrong. I am not blaming you for my past feelings or life perceptions. I don’t fault you for spending more time with my brothers- they seriously had some problems after mom died, and it was right for you to focus more on them. I can see now how alone you were and the angst you carry even now. You were afraid of failing. You did not give up. You prayed with us. You reminded us of what our mother would like us to do and be. You