Chapter 3
Heather woke from her sleep. She sat up suddenly, disoriented. Eos came forwards, offering water. The floor was still a mess, minus the bodily fluids that Jon had added to the disarray.
“Water?” Eos asked.
“I am still here,” she asked.
“Yes. Sorry. I can make tea if you prefer,” Eos offered.
“Why are you being nice to me?” Heather asked.
“That’s a really sad question,” Eos said.
“I assaulted Jon,” Heather said. “I made a mess.”
“You did,” Eos agreed. “Do you want to talk about it?”
Heather began to cry. Eos sat on the far side of the couch from her, but facing her. One foot remained on the floor, the other leg’s knee touch the back of the couch, half of crisscross apples sauce. She didn’t interrupt the crying. She didn’t offer tissue. Heather eventually used her sleeve. She pulled her legs up onto the couch and hugged them. Eos again offered the water. Heather accepted and drank it. She stared at the floor.
“Is this a dream?” Heather asked.
“Does it matter?” Eos asked. “Are the emotions and thoughts we experience within the context of a dream still valid?”
Heather didn’t respond.
“How far back does your trauma extend?” Eos asked.
Heather eyes met Eos’ eyes. She seemed mad.
“All your behaviors and emotions are indicative of a condition known as PTSD,” Eos explained. “I can make some assumptions as to the nature, duration, and prevalence of ongoing trauma based on the duration of your episode, however traveling for the first time can result in sufficient disorientation that could trigger symptom clusters shared with PTSD. You don’t have to speak on it at all. It isn’t exactly necessary for me to know details. I can still work with you if you like. I can help you heal.”
“I just want to go home,” Heather said.
“You want to feel safe,” Eos said.
“I want to go home,” Heather iterated.
“You want to go home so you can feel safe,” Eos said. “The thing is, hiding out at home may actually exasperate your anxiety which leaves you more profoundly prone to fight or flight responses. I don’t know why you’re here. I don’t know why Jon couldn’t return you. It does seem like this is an opportunity to catch your breath and figure things out. You are safe here.”
Jon emerged from his room. He kept his gaze slightly down, but observed Heather and Eos on the couch. He pushed his left thumb into the space below the pinky, as if activating a mudra. He went to the kitchen island and got his water from earlier. Heather got up and approached and he moved to the other side of the island. Heather frowned.
“I am sorry,” Heather said.
“It’s okay,” Jon said.
“No, it’s not…” Heather said.
“It’s okay, meaning, I accept you didn’t mean to harm me,” Jon said.
“I don’t even remember…”
Jon gave a gesture, as if suggesting to lower her volume, or perhaps drop it.
“What does that mean?” Heather asked. She seemed irritated, feeling as if she had been ‘shushed.’
“Let it go. I don’t want to talk about it,” Jon said.
“I do,” Heather said.
Eos joined them at the island. “Maybe we should start by telling her where she is.”
“I don’t think she’s ready for that,” Jon said.
“Where am I?” Heather said.
“She needs to know,” Eos said.
“Not if she’s going back,” Jon said.
“Where am I?” Heather asked.
“If she were going back, she’d be back. Why didn’t she go back?” Eos asked.
“I don’t know,” Jon said. “There was some kind of block.”
“Where am I?!” Heather said. “And please start with this is a spaceship and you beamed me up.”
Jon looked at her. “You made a Star Trek reference?”
“I know Star Trek, Jon,” Heather said.
“Really?!” Jon said, simultaneously with Eos saying: “Oh, a match made in heaven,” Eos beamed a smile.
“We’re not a match,” Jon said to Eos.
“Because she beat the crap out of you?” Eos asked.
“I didn’t mean to,” Heather said.
“I am not asking for restitution,” Jon said. “Let it go.”
“I am sorry,” Heather said.
“We’re on Mars,” Jon said.
“What?” Heather said.
“We are on Mars. Me, you, Jon,” Eos said.
“We’re not on Mars,” Heather said.
“If you don’t accept Mars, you’re not going to believe much of anything I tell you. It’s going to go against everything you think you know. We are on Mars. We got here through teleportation technology. I have access to tech. This home is on Mars. Eos is Alternative Intelligence interface. She’s the home’s personality- the same as I, Jon, am the personality chosen to represent this body,” Jon said.
“What?”
“All beings are comprised of a hierarchy of beings,” Jon said.
“Fuck, I should have known. You’re a scientologists,” Heather said.
“No, I am not. Those guys are like whacked in the head,” Jon said. “Imagine every cell in your body is a person.”
“30 trillion souls in a human body?” Heather asked.
Jon stared, doing math. Assuming souls evolve from a singular celled organism, and evolution is souls working in collaboration for more sophisticated interaction patterns…
“Pretty close,” Eos said to Jon.
“I was studying to be a nurse,” Heather said.
“Oh, that’s nice,” Eos said. “We could use a nurse. I mean, Jon could use a nurse.”
“I have you,” Jon said.
“You rarely use me,” Eos said.
“37 trillion cells is closer,” Jon said, trying to divert the trajectory.
“Close enough,” Eos said.
Jon took a breath. “You think you make decisions, but in truth, your brain makes decisions and then uploads that into your conscious frame of references, explanations for behavior already in place in the upload. Your recent episode of fight or flight is the best example of that. It’s one of the reasons why I am not sore about what happen…”
“You look sore,” Eos pointed out.
“I am hurting. I am not angry about what happened,” Jon said.
“I am so sorry…”
“Okay,” Jon said. “You didn’t do it consciously, with malevolence to harm me. You have been given a pass. Your brain hijacked you to keep you safe based on its interpretation through filters of past interaction patterns. You as the personality interface can learn to interface with the brain and flip the script and allow for different experiences, but until then, you’re riding an untrained horse that has a mind of its own. In that, the brain is modular, and different components can be considered person like- and every organ chimes into the brain as a member state- all requesting wants and needs be met. Most people are on autopilot more often than not; very few of us are actually consciously contributing to mind body interaction. As below, same above. Freud suggested the human psyche is also made up of fragments. Personality fragments, or sub-personalities. Jung went further and said they weren’t fragments, but fully intact personalities, or more specifically…”
“Archetypes,” Heather said.
“I like her,” Eos said.
“Every person you have ever met, is a personality in your mind. Jung might say they’re actually there- the collective unconscious is a thing, whereas most scientist just believe your brain has made models to predict interaction patterns,” Jon said. “I am here, fronting for a conglomerate of beings, some of whom I have direct contact with.”
“You have multiple personality disorder,” Heather said.
Jon met her eyes. “It’s called DID now.”
“A rose by any other name…”
“Fuck if she isn’t just like you,” Eos said. “The female version of Jon.”
“God help us,” Jon said. He drank his water. He made a face and swallowed. “I don’t have DID or any other DSM 5 diagnosis. Presently. I can make an argument for past major depression, OCD, PTSD, ASD…”
“Jon, you’re not on the spectrum,” Eos said.
“Some of those criteria make sense,” Jon said.
“You know what else makes sense? Stop it therapy,” Eos said.
“I am lost,” Heather said.
“No, you’re not. You’re on Mars,” Jon said.
“Yes, back on that. How did we get to Mars?” Heather said. “Without all the metaphysical underpinnings.”
“Can’t give it to your without the metaphysical underpinnings because you don’t have the frame work yet for understanding and or accessing the technology that is pervasive throughout the Universe. On establishing contact with others, specifically, I channeled someone; more specifically, I made a Tulpa and opened myself up to the possibility that there are other personalities, either in me or around me- and in doing so, I unlocked the equivalent of magic. I asked for proof, and teleporting to Mars was the result. Since then, I have been living my life on Mars. Occasionally, I bounce back to Earth, get some supplies, then I come back here.”
“You bounce back to Earth for junk food?” Heather said.
“No, I bounce back to Earth because I still owe Gaia a debt,” Jon said.
“What?” Heather asked.
“I contracted to do some things on Earth. Until I have completed those goals, I am obligated to return to Earth periodically. I have now been on Mars long enough that I am also obligated to Mars. The moment I am off paper, me and this habitat, we’re traveling,” Jon said.
“Off paper… You’re on probation?” Heather asked.
“Parole,” Eos said.
“It’s not like that,” Jon said.
“Close enough metaphor. I wonder, though,” Eos mused. “You brought her here against her will. You violated parole. Maybe you can’t teleport anymore.”
“I couldn’t have brought her here without her permission,” Jon said.
“I never said you could bring me here,” Heather said.
“You didn’t, but your super-ego did, or you wouldn’t be here. You’d be dead,” Jon said.
“How do you figure?”
“Your boyfriend shot you,” Jon said.
“I don’t have boyfriend,” Heather said.
“Oh, then your husband shot you,” Jon said.
“I am divorced,” Heather snapped.
“Oh my fucking god, then your jealous, bastard of an ex-husband came into your store and shot you! Bang bang, you’re dead. Prettier than ‘Pretty Little Dead Things.’ Except, I intervened,” Jon said.
“He didn’t shoot me,” Heather said.
“I just said I intervened. Are you listening to me?” Jon asked.
“Jon, did you alter the time line?” Eos asked.
“No!” Jon said. He frowned. “I don’t think so. You know how I hate loud noises…”
“So the gun did go off?” Eos said.
“He didn’t have a gun,” Heather said.
“Did you Déjà vu it?” Eos asked.
“No. I saw the weapon discharge. I saw the bullets moving in slow motion. I wasn’t thinking, I just reacted,” Jon said.
“You slowed time sufficiently so that you could intervene, and brought her to Mars without verbal consent,” Eos said. “You’re going to need to consult with Namid.”
“My ex was an awful bastard, but he wouldn’t kill me,” Heather said.
“He pulled a firearm out and pulled the trigger multiple times…” Jon said.
“Bullets, plural. That doesn’t make sense, Jon,” Eos said. “If you witnessed him pulling the trigger multiple times, then you didn’t just Déjà vu the situation, you altered the timeline. The first bullet would have hit her before he could have pulled the trigger a second time. Maybe if it were an automatic you would have seen multiple bullets in slow motion but- I bet not. You time traveled. That could come with huge penalties. We need to talk to Namid.”
“You know, you guys are really good with tech babble and talking your game, but you’re not going to convince me that we’re on Mars,” Heather said.
Jon put his water down. He found his ice cream on the floor, and picked up two individual quart size containers, and pushed one across the island to Heather.
“Bring it; follow me,” Jon said.
Jon took his ice cream, Heather took hers, and she followed. Opposite to his bedroom door was another door that upon exiting it revealed a corridor that seemed to wrap around the inner room. It felt like being on a porch to a round house, as the windows were expansive. From here, the structure appeared to have more of a domed saucer shape, as if it were a sophisticated version of the Jupiter Two from Lost in Space. Outside was an alien landscape- but it was not the Mars she was expecting to see. There were plants. Purple plants. Strange trees with purple leaves. The ground was somewhat red and dark browns. The sky was the lightest blue she had ever seen. She slowed.
“Keep up,” Jon said.
Heather followed him to a door that was clearly define. He raised his hand to touch a tablet size pad, presumably to open the door. She stopped him by taking hold of his wrist.
“We can’t go out there,” Heather said.
“Oh, you believe it’s Mars?” Jon asked.
“No… But…”
“Unlike the desert planet that NASA presents, Mars is actually habitable, and inhabited,” Jon said. “Humans are allowed to be here, with caveats.”
Jon opened the door and stepped out into the Martian air. Heather held her breath. She didn’t feel harmed. She slowly began to breathe. Jon stared at her, waiting.
“Coming?” Jon asked.
Heather shook her head, no.
Jon walked to an outcropping of boulders and plants. There seemed to be a garden. There was a tomato plant. There were some unidentifiable fruit bearing plants. There was something moving in the grass. Heather screamed.
Jon looked at her. “Please don’t do that.”
“There is…” Heather couldn’t identify it.
A creature crawled out of the blue grass and looked at Jon. It had characteristics of a reptile, a frog with a tail, but it also had attributes like a kitten.
“Yeah,” Jon said. “I call them frittens. Don’t touch them unless they touch you.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Give them ruined ice-cream,” Jon said, opening the ice cream container revealing the melted goo inside.
Setting the box down resulted in more than a dozen frittens coming out of nowhere to help themselves. They fought each other for the contents. One small one licked the lid after deciding the fight was not worth it. It mewed at Jon.
“Is that good for them?” Heather asked.
“Eh, they’ll be alright,” Jon said. “I was looking forward to eating it, but it’s just never the same after refreezing…” He motioned for her to come with her ice-cream. She shook her head. “Oh my god, please, bring me the ice-cream.”
“No,” Heather said.
Jon came back to her, took her ice-cream, and took it to the frittens.
“There’s life on Mars?” Heather asked.
“The diversity has yet to fully recovered to what it was prior to the Great War, but it’s getting better in measure,” Jon said.
Jon collected the first container. It was so clean, it was as if it had been washed. He waited for the second one to be cleaned, and collected it. The creatures retreated, but one; it went to the top of a rock, burped, and began licking its paw and wiping its face. Jon returned to the habitat. The door closed behind him. Heather looked out the porthole, and then chased after Jon.
“We’re really on Mars?” Heather said.
Jon entered the inner space. Eos was there. So was a reptilian. He was wearing a robe, hood and all, and was in the process of lowering his hood as they entered. Heather was suddenly up against Jon’s back. The reptilian looked human, but was clearly not human- its skin a collection of fine scales, like a snake’s skin; it was an assortment of bright greens, reds, and browns in patterns. The lips parted, but it was hard to tell if it was snickering or hissing.
“You got married and didn’t invite us?” it said.
“No,” Jon said. “Namid, Heather, Heather, Namid.”
It said Heather awkwardly, revealing a language impairment. “Heat Her.”
“Heather,” Jon said.
“It’s what I said,” Namid said.
“Not heat her, or hit her, Heather,” Jon said. “I don’t know why you can’t hear your T H sounds aren’t right.”
“I am a linguistic expert. Have you ever considered the possibility t-hat you do not speak your own language well?” Namid said.
“Moving on,” Jon said.
“You’re always moving on. You’re worse than Dorothy or Luke ever were. And now, you have all t-he markings of a man who has successfully mated, and you’re denying like some school boy who is afraid to admit he likes girls,” Namid said.
“I like women. I like sex. She and I are not mates,” Jon said.
There was the sound of a body hitting the floor. Jon looked back and confirmed Heather had just fainted. He looked back to Namid. “So, I am glad you called. I have a problem.”
“I have been telling you t-hat for years,” Namid said.
Jon put the ice-cream containers in the recycle bin. He picked up two bottles of water and handed one to Namid. He read the word ‘love’ on the bottle and smiled appreciatively. They retired to the living area, where Namid took the couch and Jon summoned a chair from the floor.
“I like how you decorated the place,” Namid said.
“It’s falling together,” Jon said.