Chapter 24
Songbird emerged from their threaded journey through the past and back up to the future, falling up through the slip streams of larger vessels. Her arrival as she broke out into starlight was accompanied by a song fragment, something she couldn’t place- and if she wasn’t laden with tech, and been confronting holograms and aliens and her own memory through virtual incursions, she might have wondered if she was hallucinating. “Here I come to save the day.” It was absurd. She looked at pilot to see if he had been singing it. It came out chasing her like a voice following her out of a dream back into waking life.
There was an usual quiet that followed. Power dimmed and came back up. There were large space vessels on the forward screen. Pilot brought up a virtual display and spun revealing they were surrounded by ships. He, or a simpler AI program that was part of pilot, was highlighting them and identifying some and storing others for later identification through comparative analysis based on experience.
“Permission to raise shields,” pilot said.
Heather stood, staring at the screen. She pushed away the virtual display the way someone might try to come out of a spider web. “Are they police? Because we time traveled.”
“I don’t think this is about us,” pilot said.
“It looks like a party,” Heather said.
“I don’t think we were invited. We should leave,” pilot said.
“Please tell me we have communications systems,” Heather said.
“Of course. You can’t fly space without communications, both radio and laser and telepathic crystals and transponders and…” pilot said.
“Open them all up,” Heather said. Pilot gave her proof she was broadcasting on multiple frequencies- and was suddenly quiet. “Greetings. I am Captain…” She didn’t want to give her real name. She looked at pilot and then back to the screen. “Seeker. Captain Heather Seeker, of the HMS starship Songbird. I am looking for Jon Harister. I have reason to believe he is on one of your ships…”
“We’re being targeted,” pilot said.
“What?!” Heather said.
“Missiles!” pilots screamed. “Shields up! Executing evasive maneuvers…”
Heather fell back into the chair as Songbird lurched suddenly in a manner un-prescribed by its primary propulsion units. Heather righted herself in her seat.
“What the hell!” Heather said.
“Why are you yelling at me?” pilot asked. They took a hit and the shields flared; space was whited out. Pilot was navigating on memory sight, vision recovering in small recessions. When they could see again, it became apparent things had moved. “Doh, I hate space travel. Everything always moving, but ships move in unpredictable ways, hold on…” Combat drones were being launched, as well as piloted ships, and all hell was breaking loose. Communications were being blocked, but occasionally they got snippet of a word as a communication laser tagged them, filtered through the growing debris field of flak and ship pieces.
Heather nearly tumbled out of the chair. She hooked a heel in the foot rest. “Don’t we have inertial dampeners or something?”
“Honey, I am not tossing you about,” pilot said. “Your body is doing that to itself because its predicting it should have more momentum and inertia than is actually occurring. Basically, you’re overcompensating due to years of expectation.”
“You’re saying I am making this shit up?!” Heather said.
“And you’re really good at it,” pilot said.
“I am going to be sick,” Heather said.
“It’s all in your head,” pilot said.
“I hate when people tell me that!” Heather said.
“I can’t shake him,” pilot yelled. “Blast it Biggs, where are you?!”
Heather was straining to stay in her chair, her calve muscles visibly flexing. Fu and Reilly walked onto the flight deck to appraise the situation, as easy as one might walk across a stable floor. They didn’t comment on her antics, which were now almost comical in context to people not being shifted by right angle turns, rolls, and the heaving of an invisible moving sea.
“What the hell shit storm is this?” Reilly said.
“I told you to arm the ship,” Fu said.
“Oh, you don’t want me on that button,” pilot said. “Hold on! This is going to…”
A blinding flash of light took out all vision. There was darkness. A darkness where conscious persisted. Heather heard a timid voice say ‘hello?’ She recognized it as her voice, but it was bizarre without any echo. It sounded funny, like listening to herself on a recording. She flashed back to the book by author Dalton Tumbo, “Johnny Get your Gun,” of all things, as her first thought was ‘am I injured and brain locked?’
Suddenly she found herself standing on a floor. She couldn’t see the floor, but she ‘felt’ it, like a contextual agreement of this is down and your feet are solid. A new context emerged. She was on a stage. She couldn’t see the audience. A spot light came up on her and she, “Heather,” was gloriously illuminated in such a way there was no shadows. She saw Fu to her right. Brute was illuminated to the right of Fu. Karma was on her left. Reilly was to the left of Karma, and pilot was to the left of her. It was strange looking at her companions all illuminated, because there wasn’t a single shadow and no matter how hard she tried to discern reality around them, it felt like they were cut from a movie frame and were being pasted into a movie that didn’t belong to them. Heather felt fear.
“Would the pilot of Songbird please come forwards?”
Pilots light trembled, but it obeyed. “Ummm, hello. I am pilot.”
“Who authorized your temporal travel…”
“I may be a Songbird, but I am not canary…”
“I did,” Heather said. “I am the Captain. If you have a problem, it’s with me.”
“I got this, Heather… It’s okay…”
“Step back, pilot. Come forwards, Earth child,” the hidden voice instructed.
As scared as she was, she found herself going forwards. She was not certain at all if was voluntarily. She felt as if her body had betrayed her and came forwards anyway.
“Identify yourself,” the voice said.
Heather didn’t speak. She broadcasted maybe a hundred faces that she felt were familiar, yet they were images of people from different bygone eras, with identifies and loves and difficulties she couldn’t identify with. Part of her didn’t recognize them. Part of her saw each face an unpacked entire lives. Even after all the faces came and went, it did not define who she was.
“Yes, child. I understand, but who are you?”
“Who are you?!” Heather managed.
There was silence, with a hint of amusement. “I am Oz, the great and powerful.”
“You pulled that from my head,” Heather said.
“It is sufficient for this conversation,” Oz said.
“No, it’s not!” Heather said. “Who are you? The bumbling old fool behind the curtain from the original, or are you the Richard Pryor version, the true coward that skulks back into the darkness when things start falling apart. Who are you, bitch?”
There was silence. She realized she was out of line. What if the voice was God? Am I arguing with God?
“Given your youth, and level of hostility, I do not believe there is a referential interaction point that will facilitate a healthy line of communication. Your presence here was unauthorized. You method of travel here was unauthorized. A lot of time and energy has gone into maintaining the integrity of this spatial/temporal moment. Continuity has been fractured. A multiplicity event is in progress.”
“You know, I don’t understand half of what you just said, but quite frankly, I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t permissible.”
Another voice spoke up out of the darkness. “The Earth child makes a good argument.”
“Who are you?” Heather asked. “West, or Glenda the Good Witch.”
“They are both at my disposal. My decision is final. You will be returned to Earth to complete your contact,” the voice identifying as Oz said.
“Wait,” Heather said. “You’re going to punish me? I didn’t open fire on anyone. Look at my ship! It’s not armed. I am peaceful. I am the victim here, and my only crime is that I am alone and looking for a friend. Why don’t you hold the people who shot at me accountable?”
There was long moment of silence. “I am not responsible for their behavior. I am responsible for yours.”
“What? How does that make sense? You’re punishing me for someone else’s behaviors…”
“You see my decision as punishment,” Oz said.
“Yes! Sending me back to Earth is a death sentence,” Heather said.
“I am sorry you see it that way, child. Perhaps you will understand when you’re more mature,” Oz said. “Good night.”
“Wait…” There was stillness, a hesitancy as if she were being listened to. “Maybe you do need to punish me or put me back because in truth, I don’t know enough. I don’t know what I am doing out here. I don’t know who I really am. But, I have these friends here- and these three, well, they’re inside of me. We share this body. I don’t want them to suffer my fate.”
The lights on the stage went down.
निर्मित
The parking lot for Giant Eagle seemed surprisingly empty. Jon stretched out his arm to reveal a smart watch. His army jacket was something Abercrombie and Fitch might have produced. The watch was something Steam Punk-ish, with wide leather band and gadgetry that one wouldn’t associate with a watch. It was syncing. It had full bars and orientated him quickly enough. Star City, West Virginia, United States, March 20th, 2020- 20:11. Seeing ‘West Virginia’ triggered a song, “ALMOST HEAVEN…” He was almost disturbed by how loud it was- as if it was on a radio, static and all, but live in his head. The store closed at 9.
Jon decided not to resist the song fragment as he approached the store. “West, Virginia. Blue Ridge mountains, Shenandoah River…” He was so focused on the song worm that he didn’t see the guy pass him wearing a mask. Just inside the door, and before he could select a cart- an employee addressed him.
“Sir?! You can’t come in without a mask,” she said. She was plump woman. Her eyes seemed exhausted. The rest of her expression was hidden, but her tone sufficiently conveyed irritation.
“I am sorry, what?” Jon asked.
“What do you mean what?” she demanded.
“Why do I have to wear a mask?” Jon asked.
“Where have you been? Mars?”
Jon bit on lower lip. She rolled her eyes as if she were dealing with another ‘idiot.’ She pulled out a mask in a protective plastic. “Three dollars.”
Jon’s hand pushed into a pocket and surprising himself, he pulled out a 5. He offered it to her.
“I don’t have change,” she said.
“That’s okay. Keep it. I am sorry I forgot. Memory sure is funny, isn’t it? I can’t remember a mask, but I was just remembering a John Denver song as clearly as if he were right here singing it to me. Do you think anyone remembers him?” Jon asked.
The woman smiled, accepted the money and provided a mask. “I do. My grandmother loved him. We’d listen to him while cooking together.”
“Please tell me it was hot water cornbread and greens,” Jon said.
“Oh my god, I have not had those in years,” she said, tearing up. “I haven’t thought of her in years.”
“I am sorry if I…”
“No. No. I am sorry I was harsh. I am just tired,” she said.
“You’re tired,” Jon echoed.
“Fighting with folks, family, and then I have to come to the store and fight with folks for not wearing their masks. All this fighting is just getting old,” she said.
“I can’t even imagine,” Jon said.
“You better go get your stuff. We close soon,” she said. Jon passed the gatekeeper. “Thank you,” she said, offering a fist bump.
They exploded fists. Jon went in and she remained at her post. He pushed into the store, finding place markers taped to the floor- arrows on the floor, and ‘X’ marks 2 meters a part, and signs that instructed people to keep their distance. The first aisle he wanted to hit required him to flow against the arrows, and being particularly rule bound, he found he was unable to proceed, even though the item he wanted was in sight. He went around. He had to stop to avoid entering the space of the people in front of him.
“Sorry,” Jon said. They nodded. They seemed like a nice couple. She was pregnant. She was also in tears. “Are you okay?”
“No toilet paper,” the guy said. “Fucking world we live in.”
Jon didn’t know what to say. He just kind of nodded. “I know, right.”
“We can use napkins, honey,” he said.
“May I make a suggestion?” Jon asked.
“Sure,” he said. “And if you have a stash, I will pay you twice what…”
“I don’t have a stash, but in Europe, they wash up with water. And at the hardware store, you can buy a kit to hook a bidet and cradle to your toilet,” Jon said. “You can even make the water warm, and clean up pretty good. Some say even cleaner than toilet paper, which just kind of smears it around. You can do it yourself, or have it installed…”
Weapons fire disturbed the stillness of the store. Jon pulled out a Torch, quietly urging the couple to proceed down to the far side of the aisle. He made a gesture, ‘call 911.’ One last shot was heard as Jon came out, boldly, ready to face a robber. He saw the lady at the door on the ground, the door closing on her and opening back up. He went to her. Her eyes were glazed over, her hands holding the hilt of a knife. The knife was in her heart. Looking down the aisle of cashier lanes, he saw a man on the floor. Gunshot wound to the head. There was so much blood, so many tissue fragments, that he wanted to leave the store and be sick. He walked down to the man. He found the cashier crumbled up inside her station, she was dead. He stowed his Torch on his belt and reached for his watch. He deliberated waiting for the authorities, then decided no, he would just go home. Store footage would show him there then gone.
Eos greeted him as he arrived. “What, no groceries?”
“Decontaminate my clothes,” Jon said, kicking out of his shoes.
“What happened?” Eos asked. “Did you get into a fight?”
“I didn’t get into a fight. I really don’t know what happened and I don’t want to sort it right now,” Jon said. He dropped his clothes and headed to his shower. He was in the shower for a long moment. He cried, not knowing why. He wondered if he had missed something. He wondered had he been more attentive he could have changed something. People died all the time. For stupid reasons. Why was this so bothersome?
Eos entered on the tail end of the tear storm. “Want something to drink?”
“Not when I am this emotional,” Jon said.
“I didn’t say alcohol,” Eos said. “Want me to help you sort it?”
“Maybe tomorrow,” Jon said.
“Okay,” Eos said.
“I feel like I am missing something,” Jon said.
“Probably why you’re a seeker,” Eos said, not surprised he was talking about something he wanted to contemplate tomorrow. She looked up and out, as if hearing something. “Namid is here. I have fresh clothes for you on the counter.”
“Thank you, Eos,” Jon said. “I’ll be right out.”
निर्मित
Heather found the world strange. She felt no attachment to the body lying on the floor. It was just an object, discarded, not useful. She didn’t question her perspective of 360 degrees- this was just something souls did. She recognized Jon instantly and laughed at him for holding a Torch. "What the fuck? You think you’re a Jedi?”
Suddenly she was shooting up through the ceiling, out into the sky, and straight up. The Universe blurred, rainbow twirls and then she was standing in a garden. She was standing- that was significant to her. That meant she had feet. That meant there was a vertical and horizontal orientation. Her assessment, ‘there is an up and down in the afterlife.’ “I am dead?” No one answered her. She was still a point of light perspective, but she also had a body. She had clothes if she wanted clothes. There were roses before her, amazingly bright and colorful in a surreal way. Their aroma defined an area that was as solid as an object to her. Other plants had olfactory boundaries that she could see. They overlapped. There were bees. There were birds. A hummingbird darted towards, hovered, and sped away. Everything was alive and sentient and capable of negotiating a wider reality in cooperation. She focused on the rose’s boundary- noting that each rose on the plant also had a spherical boundary of rose scent around it. Each rose was bounded, and the plant itself was bounded. The bees had a scent boundary. The humming bird, also. She, too, had a boundary- a spherical region where he bio essence, and all the flora and fauna that lived on her resided. She laughed, thinking she was a like a planet with its own atmosphere bubble. All the many bubbles were visible and tangible, like bubbles inside of bubbles. There were light auras and chemical auras and… There was an essence aura she couldn’t identify. There was clarity of boundaries and obscurities that went far beyond a Van Gogh perspective.
A female approached her, coming out of nowhere, but not in a startling way. She was beautiful, in an ancient Egyptian sort of way- and that was startling. She had never seen anyone so perfectly beautiful. This was not the glossy, touched up image of a model that had been photo touched to seduce people into buying. This was health and beauty and love.
“Hello, Heather,” she said.
“Do I know you?” Heather asked.
“Normally, you’d be getting your true memory back about now, but there’s a hold up,” the woman said.
“I don’t understand.”
“That’s why I am here…”
“Are you my spirit guide?” Heather asked.
The woman laughed. “Oh, no. Just an intermediary. They were worried you might not want to speak to your guide right now. I am Loxy.”
“I am dead?” Heather asked, indifferent to the name.
“That question always amuses me,” she said.
“Death amuses you?” Heather asked.
“What did you learn?”
“Fuck you. And I am not doing a life review. It was hard enough the first time,” Heather said.
“You don’t have to. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. With some caveats. But mostly, the life review is not available because you’re not finished yet,” Loxy said.
“What?”
“You have to go back,” Loxy said.
“Fuck that,” Heather said.
“Sorry, you have a contract,” Loxy said.
“He fucking shot me in the head! You want me to go back to a body and be less than Forest Gump, and sit around and drool, and not wipe my own ass…” Heather said. The scene in ‘Kill Bill’ where the nurse was pimping her dead body out bothered her. Her husband had drugged her multiple times because he liked fucking comatose bodies. How many times had she waken with him on top of her? She could see husband pimping her out and then punishing her for having affairs. In the past, when she protested, he beat her till her eyes couldn’t open from the swelling. She could feel it, the memory of it as powerful as the living of it. She gasped.
Loxy touched her and the memory fell away to be replaced with the present scents of roses, sunshine bubbles and love. Heather seemed grateful for the reminder it was now just memory. ‘Just memory’ meant something different here. ‘Just memory’ was not a valid construct because the memory here was present and alive and it took effort to be separate from it.
“I wouldn’t want that for anyone. What you went through sucks ass,” Loxy agreed. “But you’re going back. And they’re ready for you now. Everything is going to be alright. See you soon…”
Heather tried to protest but she fell through the Earth as if it were nothing more than clouds. She landed in her body, hard. It felt like she had landed and rebounded but her physical body didn’t even move with the impact. Her eyes opened. Two women were standing over her, wearing ‘Comicon’ styled spaces suits of pink and lavender. She recognized them. She didn’t have an explanation for recognizing them.
“Welcome back,” Karma said.
Heather tried to sit up.
“Whoa whoa whoa,” Karma and Reilly said, trying to her ease her back. They realized she was determined to stand, so instead of fighting her, they helped her to sit up.
“You should really take a moment to acclimate. Though it’s wired the same, it’s technically a brand new body,” Reilly said.
“There’s a dent in the windshield,” Heather said.
Karma and Reilly looked at each other and back to Heather. They tried a sympathetic, patient smile.
“There’s a dent in the windshield!” Heather said.
“I don’t think you’re saying what you think you’re saying,” Karma said.
“Aphasia is not uncommon when you bounce to a new body,” Reilly said.
Heather took hold of Karma’s arm. With her other hand, she gestured shooting herself in the head. “There’s a dent in the windshield.”
“Oh,” Karma said. “You have a headache?”
Heather shook her head no. She stood up, with help. She motioned them to step back. She walked a few paces away, looking around. This was medical bay. They needed a doctor, she told herself. She realized her body suit avatar, Leto was probably the medic. She could feel her presence, unobtrusive in the background, as if waiting to be recognized before speaking. Finding her there was as comforting as a tongue finding all the teeth were in order after the sensation of numbing had gone away.
It was during her exploration of self blending with AI interface that Heather found she knew how to do something. She tapped her sleeve and the computer made a holographic mirror appear in front of her. She didn’t remember being taught this. She knew this was a curiosity that she should explore, but she didn’t. She was now seeing herself. She was occupied with herself. She looked okay. She pushed her hands though her head. No holes. No blood. She touched her lips.
“I promise,” Reilly said. “It’s all you. Just like the original. Well. There is a DNA tag identifier in your cells that designate this as clone 1.”
“I am in the sky clear?” Heather asked.
“If you’re asking if you’re okay, yes,” Reilly said. “And we’re okay. Pilot got us out of the heat of the battle. It was some battle.”
Heather touched her chest, followed the asymmetrical seam down to the skirt. The hose she wore had a metallic sheen with sparkles. She was wearing boots, shiny as rain boots.
“If you really don’t like the pink, we can print up some other color combos,” Reilly said.
“It’s fair to Midland,” Heather said. “Fuck!”
“The Rock Band?” Reilly said. “Oh, Musical Chairs? Body swapping?”
“It’s Texas slang that it’s okay,” Karma said.
Heather nodded. “Bob Marley.”
Karma laughed. “Everything’s gonna be alright,” she said.
Heather turned and hugged Karma. She cried. “It’s all shiny on the inside now.”
“Well, it may not be all shiny,” Karma said, hugging her. “Pilot’s been all depressed since they took you. He refused to fly for us.”
“I tried to assure him you’d be right back,” Reilly said.
“How do you format the drive?” Heather said. “FUCK!”
“Let me ask you,” Karma said. “You’re aware. You understand us. You know what you want to say. It’s just not coming out.”
“Yes!” Heather said.
“That’s frustrating,” Reilly said.
“I am fucked,” Heather said.
“No, no, it’s temporary,” Reilly assured her. She led her to a chair and had her sit. She offered her water. “Drink.”
“Karma’s fate is clarity,” Heather said.
“Oh, I think I understand you,” Karma said. “You want to know why I don’t have aphasia when I live in your head.”
“Fuck me yes,” Heather said. “FUCK!”
“Isn’t aphasia and Tourette’s interesting? You can pull out profanity pretty easy enough, but other things are hard earned,” Reilly said. “Well, I think it’s interesting.”
“The Universe is one is broken,” Heather said.
“Oh!” Karma said. She smiled. “You mean, we were one, now we’re separate?! Yeah. When they took you, they left us here. I am just as real and human as you, now. I must say, there was some benefits to not having to be in control of a body.”
“Fu? Brute?”
“Solid real,” Karma said.
“Leto?” Heather asked.
Her clothes constricted around her, lovingly and released. “I am with you.” She explained she was quiet because they were still learning their relationship. Having someone always there in your mind was something to get used to, like wearing a new skin. Leto was attentive and kind.
Heather nodded to the concepts in her head. She drank. “I don’t understand this over the rainbow shit. Why am I not in Kansas?”
“You’re starting to make more sense,” Karma said.
“You have a contract with Tri-Suns Bank,” Reilly said. “We’re not going to let a little thing like death interfere with our relationship.”
“How did you die?” Karma asked.
“A bird hit the windshield,” Heather said.
“Would you like to take a nap?” Reilly said. “Allow things to recalibrate?”
“No,” Heather said. “Walking the path.”
She got up, nodded to the fact she had her footing, and left medical. Karma and Reilly followed. Fu and Brute were in the hold, fighting with wooden swords. Fu dropped his sword, rushed Heather and hugged her up in a fierce bear hug, her feet coming off the floor.
“I am Brute,” Brute said.
“Wind from the trees!” Heather gasped.
“She can’t breathe,” Karma said.
Brute set her down and backed away. Fu was holding his arm, encouraging him to give her space.
“Bob Marley,” Heather said. She laughed. “Fuck.” She put a hand on his chest and patted. He was solid.
“Sophisticated intelligence is incomprehensively available,” Brute said.
“Brutal clarity,” Heather said. She hugged brute. She then hugged Fu. She reached for Reilly and they were all hugging. “I am never going back to fucking Kansas ever.” She extricated herself from the group hug. “Okay. Okay. Stay. I am off to see the wizard. Fuck.”
Heather walked the path to the flight deck. She identified her quarters. She realized she hadn’t spent time there yet and she wanted to but it could wait. She found pilot on the flight deck. He was still a point of reference interface, a ball hitting itself against the wall. He was singing, “What do you do with a drunken sailor…”
“Stop playing pong with my head,” Heather said.
Pilot stopped singing. He stopped bouncing himself off the wall. There was no hint of his orientation turning its focus. He hovered closer, a melancholy mood lighting. From a teary perspective, star beams might have reached out to her.
“I am sorry I didn’t talk you out of time traveling,” pilot said.
“Bob Marley,” Heather said.
“It’s not gonna be alright. It’s my fault you died,” pilot said.
“Ripples from the stone’s point of entry eventually return,” Heather said.
“Well, yes, if you want to be all metaphysical about it, but I don’t think I can operate without you. I mean, I contracted for you and I wanted to be a part of this constellation of people. These are such good people,” pilot said.
“Bright stars in the hummingbird constellation,” Heather agreed.
“The brightest,” pilot said. “An esoteric collage mix of Guardians of the Galaxy and Firefly. Space western meets nights of the old republic…”
Heather nodded. “The brain merger that’s coming is singularity.”
“I feel like this is the best conversation we ever had,” pilot said.
Heather took her seat.
“Reilly said you’d be back. I didn’t believe her. I thought for sure you were dead for good,” pilot said.
“Chris de Burgh,” Heather said.
Pilot laughed. “Don’t pay the ferryman.”
“Find the Titanic, track the lifeboats,” Heather said.
“You want to continue with your mission to find Jon?” pilot asked.
“Fuck yes,” Heather said.
“But it got you killed once,” pilot said. “I got you killed. And you just want to keep at it?”
“Yeah, why not?” Heather said.
Pilot hovered. “I can’t make any sense of that.”
“Are we the last Starfighter?”
“I reckon we are,” pilot said. “All-righty then! We got work to do, Beta Unit. I recommend the view from on high.”
निर्मित
Heather found herself under the canopy of stars, a platform with a dome and heads-up