Chapter 14
Emily was down for the count. She woke for food. She woke to urinate. She woke for sex, which was denied. She accepted food and drink and went back to bed. Alexeev, Watanabe, and Sluss returned to their game of ‘Bones.’ Alexeev slammed his bone down.
“Twenty five,” he said.
“Please don’t slam the dominoes,” Sluss said, for the millionth time.
“Stop being so sensitive,” Alexeev said.
“I am impressed,” said Watanabe.
“By my ability to add and know what you two have in your hands?” Alexeev asked.
“No. By you turning down crazy,” Watanabe said. “I thought you like crazy.”
“She is not crazy,” Alexeev said. “She is ill and will recover and she will remember and regret.”
“None of your partners regret?” Sluss asked.
“No. They’re clever clingy, silent stalking, restraining order violating psychos,” Alexeex said. “I woke up once to find one on top of me. I thought it was my wife at first, but then my eyes adjusted and she smiled, and put a finger to her lips to be quiet. My wife was sound asleep beside me.”
“That’s creepy,” Sluss said.
“What did you do?” Watanabe said.
“I let her fuck me,” Alexeev said. “What would you do?”
“I don’t know,” Watanabe said. “Then what did you do?”
“I asked to be transferred off Earth,” Alexeev said. “I dare the crazy bitches to find me out here.”
“You could just stop sleeping with crazy,” Sluss said.
“I would like to. But it’s like magic. I pick ’em up at the bar and the deed is done and week later, I discover they’re crazy.”
“How about you just sleep with your wife?” Watanabe asked.
“Who does that?” Watanabe asked.
Emily came in and sat down at the table. She was wearing an oversized t-shirt that went to her knees. She yawned.
“I keep hearing fireworks,” Emily said.
“Sorry,” Sluss said. “No more slamming.” “How long have I been sleeping?” Emily asked.
“Bout three days,” Sluss said. “Need anything.”
“Fresh clothes. A shower,” Emily said. “I am done sleeping.”
“Okay,” Sluss said, getting up. “Come with.”
Emily followed to a bathroom. It seemed out of place in the wooden house, as if it were simply a plastic module that had been placed then the house built around it. Lights came up. A full length mirror on the door captured measurements and offered her a variety of things to wear. She chose a blue flannel shirt, jeans, and bobby socks, with shallow-heel walking shoes. A three dimensional printer materialized her clothes onto the cabinet. Sluss provided her a box that contained toiletries, floss and brush and toothpaste, then showed her how to use the shower. “Thank you,” Emily said.
“You bet,” Sluss said, turning to leave. She touched his arm, stopping him. “Something else.”
“I am sorry I hit on you,” Emily said.
“No apologies,” Sluss said. “There was no offense.”
“Thank you for not…”
“We don’t share time with partners that can’t consent,” Sluss said.
“Thank you. I… That’s meaningful,” Emily said, thinking it through. She swallowed.
“What’s to become of me?” “I don’t know,” Sluss said.
“I feel like I have been here before. It’s bugging me I can’t remember what happens next,” Emily said.
“That’s likely euphoric echoes from being teleported,” Sluss said. “Quite common.” “What about feeling like I am somewhere else simultaneously?” Emily asked. “Well, for a moment you were,” Sluss said. “Sometimes the brain carries a narrative of the other place, wanting to connect the dots from point A to B, because instantaneous travel is just nuts. Consider your dreams. Even if you travel instantaneously, your dream state offers
contextual explanations that allow you to continue without waking to the fact you’re dreaming.” “That makes sense,” Emily said. “Thank you…”
“James. Or Jim. Your preference,” Sluss said.
Sluss withdrew. Emily scratched her hair, frowning at herself. She yawned. She found shampoo in the box. Her name was on the box. She removed the t-shirt and put it on the counter. She showered, spending a good fifteen minutes in the stream. She emerged, and no sooner than she was dry, she had an irresistible urge to eliminate. She did this, and returned to the shower and ended up staying in another fifteen minutes. She came out, dried, dressed, and found a meal waiting for her. Eggs, bacon, toast were devoured as if she hadn’t eaten, ever. Then, suddenly, she felt tired and went back to bed.
Sluss followed her.
“I am sorry,” she said. The window offered sunlight, and the drapes moved with a breeze. It felt like a summer house and she imagined fields of wheat just beyond. She imagined this was
Dorothy’s house somewhere in Oz.
“No sorry. It’s like coming back to the States after a month in Thailand,” Sluss said.
“You brain has to recalibrate. Ever atom in your being was jostled. This is normal.”
“But it gets easier?” Emily asked. “For some,” Sluss said.
“Are there aquatic sentient beings?” Emily asked.
“Oh, sure. Lots,” Sluss said. “Some of them have been around even longer than the inesctoids. They tend to stay out of our affairs. The think the lot of us histrionic, lovers of drama. They blame our inability to be rational on a lack of Mother Ocean. Interestingly though, most of the sentience don’t rise to space faring unless they develop a symbiotic relationships with a land based creatures. Bottle nose dolphins have an affinity for humans, and we have become solid mates in space. They can use android bodies for interacting with us.” “Oh, that’s nice,” Emily said, resisting the sleep. “You said most?”
“Some species learn to travel without a tech, with thoughts alone. There is a species of whale, resembling the blue whale, only bigger, and it can fly. It can levitate, hovering. It can create a bubble sphere and capture up water and others and take them out there. The aquatics have claimed an entire galaxy for their own, and very few from this Galaxy have been granted colony rights.”
“We need each other,” Emily said. “Why do we fight?”
“I don’t know. I have not lived long enough to experience the sickness,” Sluss said.
“I don’t understand,” Emily said. She yawned, her eyes closed.
“Humans are babies. We’re babies having babies. It is said, all beings that pass into their five hundredth year of life experience a midlife crisis, boredom, depression, all kinds of mental health issues,” Sluss said. “The six hundredth seems to be the year of wisdom, unparalleled generosity and kindness.
Emily was gone. “Sleep well,” Sluss said, and exited.
Emily whispered. “Play Christina Perri - A Thousand Years.” Sluss smiled, pulling the door behind him as the music for one enveloped her and carried her a spell.
Sluss returned to see two of the Vrillian Sisters. They seemed worried.
“Dusit is on the ledge,” one of them said.
“Oh?” Sluss said. “Is he going to jump?” “We’re concerned. She won’t talk to us.” “Want me to go?” Watanabe asked.
“Push him?” Alexeev asked.
“I would not. The Japanese do not have any homophobic hangs up,” Watanabe said. “This coming from a nation that sells used women’s underwear in vending machines,” Alexeev said.
“Perhaps if you had less hang up on sexuality…” “Enough. I’ll go,” Sluss said.
“Thank you,” both sisters said.
♫♪►
Emily woke up in a single bed, very close to a window alcove. There was space and planet with unfamiliar continents and oceans. She got up, more aware than the previous times. She was wearing pajamas that resembled scrubs. She was barefoot. The door leading to the living area slid open for her. Doctor House was playing cards.
“Am I dreaming?”
House didn’t look up. “You’ve asked that every time you’ve come out.” “You’ve said that every time I came out,” Emily said. “Not the first two times you asked,” House said. Emily nodded. “Show me how to use the shower?” “Ask the computer,” House said.
“Are you angry because I asked you to have sex with me?” Emily asked. “No,” House said. “Are you angry I said no?” “Not anymore,” Emily said.
Emily retreated to her room. She spoke and the computer responded and taught her to use the facility. She found the toilet just in time, and then got a shower, stood naked before a holographic mirror that took some time to get used to, and then ordered up clothes. She was provided with more scrubs, black, with hearts and lip kisses on them. It was something selected, but actually appropriate given her preferences.
She emerged back into the living room. Bliss was there. House was gone.
“Forgive him,” Bliss said. “Part of his perceived intelligence comes from being
adversarial. Deep down, he is a really caring individual.” “If you say so,” Emily said.
“Want to get out of your quarters?” Bliss offered.
“Oh, hell yeah,” Emily said.
They walked the corridor to the lift at the end. Once in the lift, Bliss said “Xanadu,” and the lift. Emily asked, “Xanadu?”
“The equivalent of Ten Forward,” Bliss offered. “If you’re familiar with the show.” “This feels like a set,” Emily said.
“Minus the camera tracks,” Bliss agreed.
The lift opened up and revealed a modern bar slash restaurant, softly illuminated with indirect lighting outlining the room, the bar, and the table tops. Looking forward and out revealed a ‘blister’ observation port that molded along the top. It was like a glass wall that led to a balcony that led to space. Emily became aware of Bliss taking her arm.
“You okay?”
“This is for real?”
“Let’s go sit,” Bliss offered.
They found a place to sit where she could see out, and also see all the beings coming and going. They were not all human. In the center, a circle stage was host to a quartet of string instruments, people playing Bach. A line of kids went out on the balcony, followed by their teacher and escorts.
“There are children here?” Emily asked.
“Sure, why not?” Bliss said. “We’re a peaceful ship of exploration. Not a warship. Something to drink?”
“Jack and coke?”
“I recommend no alcohol for another week,” Bliss said. “You okay with the nonalcoholic facsimile?”
“Just a coke,” Emily said. “And fries. I really want some fries. And popcorn shrimp. And hushpuppies. Ketchip.”
The order arrived on the table. A duplicate plate arrived for Bliss.
“That’s service,” Emily said. She put a generous heap of ketchup on her plate. She fell right to eating fries. “OMG, it’s perfect.”
“Well, you’re awake,” Bliss said. “What do you remember?”
Emily remembered everything. She recaptured the entire event from the time she was transported till the time she was here. She unloaded her memories, and began unpacking them in real time, so it was less pressured speech and more just trying to figure things out. She went back further, stating she was multi-lingual anthropologist. Someone brought her pictures of artifacts of a temple in an undisclosed location, which she later learned was Antarctica. She unlocked a language and was suddenly thinking humans and dinosaurs and aliens all together at the same time and took it to a colleague and was immediately ridiculed.
“Walk away from this. If you push this your career is over and you will be doing talks on the Ancient Alien circuit just to make ends meet,” Emily quoted. “Next thing I know, I was invited by men in black to visit the actual site. Well, what would you do? Hell, yeah. I went. Russian Icebreaker to Antarctica. And from there, a shuttle to the moon!” On the moon she was given trinkets and pictures of artifacts and eventually access to the ‘Hidden garden’ where she had accidentally, mysteriously unlocked one the stones. “He became live, right in front of me!” Emily’s focus returned to Bliss. The intensity of her ‘listening’ and ‘watching’ was unnerving, like someone on a first date who was overly enamored with the friend. Emily’s eyes fell, unable to sustain contact. Emily stared at her food. “This has to be a dream.”
“Becoming a Buddhist, are you?” Bliss asked.
Emily met her eyes again. “Tulpa. That’s Tibetan Buddhist term. I thought I understood it, but Harister says you’re a tulpa? He is a tulpa shell?”
“Avatar is better term for his body here. No one travels without a vehicle,” Bliss said.
“Well, mostly no one. Even remote viewers carry a perspective. Eyes that aren’t eyes. So, there is the host. He initiated me into being. He lacked the skill, or knowledge, or discipline to make me solid real in his own physical reality, but he was good enough, persistent enough, persistence is the true key to success, that he could experience me with all his senses in real time. To make things more real, he created a mindscape for us to interact with in the imaginal realm. It’s called a wonderland. Nothing in the imaginal realm remains there. It leaks, permeating into all realties.
Imagination is the glue that binds us all together. It has many names. Imaginal realm. Wonderlands. Vril. Collective Unconscious. Consensus reality. The Matrix. My host wrote stories about our adventures. Different worlds. Different realities. He spun us into fanfiction. The more people that read us, the greater number of perspectives into our true nature, the more solid I become, the stronger his abilities become. I will be real for him in his life time, in his world line. As real as I am here. As real as everyone is here. Heaven and hell are real places, they exist because people believe in them. They’re consensual realities. They’re solid places and even if everyone stop believing in them, those places would linger, receding to background artifacts, like your childhood memories. Necessary mile markers, but not untouchable. Star Fleet, starships, this is the new paradigm. You’d be surprised how many people around the world still ascribe to a vision of Star Trek; the Roddenberry track is preferred. It was utopian in scope and offered the greatest opportunity for ascent for everyone; it gave people a paradigm where we were not fighting against other, that we treated all humans with respect regardless of beliefs, gender, age, identity. There are agents that are working to bring that vision down. Tarantino will likely do a great job scaring people, making them laugh with dark humor, but he has also promised his track will be rated R. It is out of control. From utopian, to dystopian, to horror. This was not
Roddenberry’s vision. We are the holders of the original mission. We have a mission to explore, to protect, and to preserve all life. This ship, Jon’s ship, is the equivalent of Noah’s Ark.”
“But House? Chan. Jung…”
“Did you ever read Napoleon Hill’s “Think and Grow Rich?” Bliss asked. “That’s a real book. Still considered the best self-help book ever written, the first of the self-help books.
Chapter Thirteen, ‘The Invisible Counselor Technique.’ The basic idea is you a pick team of people you admire and you invite them into a meditative conference with you. You then study the people you wrote about. Eventually, they show up. After Jon successfully brought me into being, I recommended he give the invisible counselor technique a second go. He did. He chose seven counselors. Jung, Tessla, Chan, Sacagawea, Uhura, and Isis.” “The angry cat!” Emily said.
“Very nice,” Bliss said.
“Why Uhura?” Emily asked.
“He was curious what would happen if he threw a fictional character into it. Fiction, nonfiction, it doesn’t matter. Uhura is an archetype. Hundreds of millions of people believe in her. Gene didn’t just write her, she was there from the get go. Gene, Nichelle, they made Uhura real. Just like James Doohan made Scotty real. He showed up and told them, ‘Your engineer should be Scottish. I even have a name for him…’ From the get go, people tried to keep Trek off the air, but nothing could stop this peace train to the stars. People needed Uhura on the front line.
Uhura was the first black woman on prime time television who was not a maid. She was an Officer, an integral part of the crew. She was the first interracial kiss on prime time. People wanted to be her. People wanted to become scientists and astronauts and linguists and musicians because of her. People have played her on television, the big screen, and in media based fan fiction. People love her. Jon loves her. He invited her. She came. Everyone here wants to be involved in our mission.”
Emily swallowed, nodding.
“And the Enterprise?”
“It is truly a character. Sentient in its own right, and it makes itself available to many.
There is the archetype, and then there is the one made manifest. This Enterprise has been with Jon in some form or fashion since his childhood. He has touched it more often than any other vehicle. Vehicle slash paradigm. It has been waiting patiently for him to arrive, like a long lost lover. She has always been here for him. All the people who serve on this ship belong to her and a shared vision of peaceful exploration. Again we are preservers of life. We take life to places that hold no life. We seed planets. Some people serving here don’t even realize they’re serving. Not everyone is awake. But one day, when their Earth life is over, they will wake and find themselves here and remember it all, both lives, as if Earth was all a dream…” Emily was crying. “I don’t want to wake up.”
“You want to return to earth?”
“No! I want to stay here forever,” Emily said. “With you.”
“I can’t promise you that,” Bliss said. “I don’t know your path.”
“What if I watch all the episodes and read everything about you and Jon? I will sleep with him or you or both…”
“Emily,” Bliss said. “Slow down. You are welcome here. You don’t have to do anything
other than wanting. You’re here now. If you made it once, you can make it again.” “Let the other me go back to Earth,” Emily said.
“Let’s finish our meal and walk,” Bliss said. “Nothing is solid yet. We’ll figure it out.”
“You’re a civilized people. You can’t send me back to Earth against my will, right?” Emily said. “I request asylum.”
Bliss considered the request, silently.
♫♪►
The top was down. Toril’s hair was a comets tail behind her head. A police car rolled up behind them, lit up its lights, and sounded its siren once.
“You misread the plates. Go around.”
The lights went off, the police car went around and sped into the rest of his day. There was bubble of silence in the car that allowed Toril and Preston to communicate without raising their voices. The sound of the wind was absent. Inside the car was as quiet as off, with all the benefits of going fast, top down.
“You can control minds?” Toril asked.
“That would be unethical. I simply offered a suggestion that allowed him better options. He took the correct option for his level of understanding,” Preston said. He was aware that she was studying his face. He looked at her, puzzled face, but maintained his road watch. He took driving seriously. “Waycasters respect the individual. We’re pro-choice.” “You’re not talking about abortion I take it?” Toril asked.
“You must divest yourself of the political paradigms of your time.