Chapter 3
This was not the afterlife. That was Garcia’s mantra of the week. He pursued a study of the afterlife, using the computer to find references. His relative search provided something interesting, an entry by Captain Janeway about an entity that had entered her cerebral cortex and took on the form of her father to convince her to enter their ‘matrix.’ Pursuit of what Janeway meant by a matrix was limited. She did not mean the Universe was a matrix- that seemed certain. There was a speculative discourse offered by Chakotay, holding a rose, suggesting the entity reminded him of a spider. Garcia struggled against this. This was not someone caught in a web, but was more opportunistic in the sense it found someone in the death struggle, but hadn’t caused the injury. The rose bother him, too. Why a rose? Roses, flowers in particular, draw pollinating insects towards them. Where better to put a spider web, but near the plants that would draw the insects? Was she still in that web being devoured? Was there a connection to where he was, too? Was he being devoured? Did the beings of the matrix need their souls to know they were slowly being digested over time?
Garcia pushed up from the computer and paced. This room felt like a room, not a web of deceit. He was pretty sure he, and Janeway for that matter, were safe, but he did feel trapped. He knew people were watching him. He couldn’t feel this, but accepted this was certain. More than that, they were listening to his thoughts. He paused. The Talosians! Was he imprisoned? A zoo animal? He had brought them on board so they could use their tech and save their species, it would only be fitting if he was now in an exhibit.
Garcia went to the door to exit his room. It didn’t open.
“Open,” Garcia said.
“Please state your destination,” the computer responded.
“Open the damn door,” Garcia snapped.
“Where would you like to go?”
Garcia turned around. Bliss was there, behind him. It struck him she looked way too young to be an officer aboard a starship. Cultural bias? Her beauty was distracting. He felt anger at himself for even noticing, beauty was irrelevant, but then wondered if he was supposed to notice. That was the point. Beauty to pacify him into acceptance. Her uniform was similar to the pathfinder. Metalic silver, hints of reflective, holographic rainbows, gold highlights. Miniskirt. Dark hose with gold speckles. No doubt they knew where his eyes lingered. Her femininity was only enhanced by her clothing.
“Am I prisoner?” Garcia demanded.
“No. If you speak your destination, you will be delivered to the appropriate place,” Bliss said.
“I just want out,” Garcia said.
“Name a place,” Bliss said.
Garcia took a step towards her. He meant to be deliberately threatening. He found himself suddenly frozen in space, unable to move. He was given a moment to realize he was immobilized.
“Allow me to continue with your education,” Bliss said. “I know that you only meant to intimidate me, and you’re allowed to do that. You’re allow to posture, throw tantrums, cry, make threats, but you will not be allowed to pursue any physical aggression against me, or anyone else on this ship, or even furniture. If you go to hit the wall with a fist, or hit your head against the wall, you will find yourself thusly restrain.” Bliss came forwards and put her hands in the small of her back.
“We don’t like restraining people,” Bliss said. She drew closer, not mocking but demonstrating she feared nothing. “But we can. We know what you will do before you even become aware of what you’re going to do. There are multiple ways we can interrupt aggression. We can disconnect you from your brain, which can be a bit disorientating. We can leave you in your brain, and just disconnect your brain from your body. This is easy enough to understand. Every night when you sleep, your brain disconnects from the body to prevent you from acting out your dreams. We can also simply stun you. The Enterprise is sentient. It is aware of everyone on the ship. It is aware of their intentions. If it detects intended aggression, it will respond proactively to either remove you from the situation or stun you, and when you wake up, you’ll be surrounded by security, and a counselor. Feel free to test this on me now.”
Garcia found himself free to move. He stepped back. A part of him wanted to rage and throw something and hit something, but there was sufficient self-restraint that he did not.
“Unlike the Talosian situation, where strong emotions blocked them from knowing your intent, we can see through that,” Bliss said. “You can’t lie here, well, except to yourself. You could not feign affection, fake your way close to me, and on getting close break my neck. Yeah, you’re physically capable of breaking my neck, so let’s go there for a second. Hypothetically, even if you got through all the protocols, because you’re a psychopath and that good at manipulating, the moment you snap my neck I get reset to a past save point and the next time you see me, we’re going to have a different conversation.”
“I am not a psychopath,” Garcia said.
“I know,” Bliss said. “You would be going through intensive rehabilitative therapies if you were. This program you’re in now is for advanced souls. Even advanced souls struggle.”
“Am I a prisoner?” Garcia asked.
“No. You’re new here. You don’t know enough to wander freely,” Bliss said. “You rescue psychopaths from the timeline,” Garcia said.
“Rule one, no one gets left behind,” Loxy said. “When we deconstruct a planet’s world-line, we save everyone, minimally twice. We work from grave to cradle. He who is last is first. We beam people out of the time stream prior to their death, and just before birth. The oldest version gets rehabilitation, the younger gets born into a new world, with a caretaker, and gets to develop in ideal settings. We have proven, beyond a shadow of a doubt, nurture and environment changes outcomes. Some people get brought back more than once. Samuel Clemmons, for example. Everyone loves him. Every age of him was
brought back so we have access to all his relative insight and humor.” “You deconstruct the timeline?” Garcia asked.
“Interesting thing about how worldliness,” Loxy said. She waved her hands and revealed am earth type planet, as seen in a series of segments, as if looking at a film strip. She touched the far right, and beamed out the planet, and went backwards, touching each one. Each planet disappeared until she got to the last frame. She left that planet there. It repopulated each of the consecutive empty frames. “As long as you leave the first element, it unfolds exactly as it did previously. However, if I take the middle Earth;” she took the middle planet and all the subsequent planets disappeared. “I loose access to these planets. Taking middle earth, pushes everything into a new time stream, whereas a careful, thoughtful deconstruction allows us access to the whole world-line and everyone who ever lived. I have rescued people who didn’t live. Babies that were miscarried and or aborted, we were able to save them, too. Everyone gets brought back.”
Garcia didn’t know what to say. There were so many questions populating his brain, he couldn’t even begin to form something sensible.
“We tend to only deconstruct planets that have a world-line that ended,” Bliss stated. “Our ship’s mission was to deconstruct the Vulcan planet, from grave to cradle. Starting at the point Nero destroyed the planet. We saved all the souls of all the ships were destroyed in orbit. We were able to lock onto you, through the Iconian Gateway and beam you out. The passenger facilitated this. My Enterprise, along with other ships, have captured a copy of everyone who has ever entered Vulcan space, and reconstituted them here, and we did so without interrupting the individual’s previous life.”
“That is…”
“My job.”
“Unbelievable.”
Bliss smiled. “I get that a lot. There is an adjustment period. People feel like their lives were interrupted. Some were, as they were just passing through and didn’t experience a death on Vulcan per say. It takes some getting you use to the idea your life is over. You, Tammas, are wild. From a wild space-time paradigm. You’re capable of killing and have killed. Some would say you’ve have killed way too much, beyond what was needed to accomplish the task. We’re not here to judge you on that score. We are here to rehabilitate you to this life and paradigm. Counseling services are available to you and we recommend them, but in your case, they are not a requirement,” Bliss said. “So, you don’t judge, either? Am I in the same place where I met Jon on the mountain?” Garcia asked.
“You’re not in the same place. This is the physical dimension. We call it the 4D space,” Bliss said. “We don’t judge because we live in a different social paradigm. We are trying to mirror the domain to which we all retire to, the afterlife paradigm. That paradigm is still difficult to know because we’re limited in what we’re allowed to understand. It’s comparable to me going back in time and interacting with pre warp society. I would be limited in scope of what I could communicate. Even if I could tell them everything, I couldn’t tell them everything. They wouldn’t have the language or the paradigm to contextually organize information. When you come to understand the human being and the psychological overtones that drive behaviors, then no behaviors are criminal or evil, they are simply fear based, mal informed reactions. You have superior knowledge and skills, compared to a caveman, compared to a 21st century human, but you are still limited in your scope of responses because you have not been taught all the positive modalities available to you. Your primary mode of operation is still fear based. You are looking for threats in your environment. There are none here, Sir, and yet you sit her spinning threats and aren’t even surprised by the fact you’re wanting to run. I am trying to save you a step. When you get finished running, you’re still here dealing with this thing inside you. Let me help you.”
Garcia fumed. He made no attempt to conceal it. “I want out.”
“I hear that,” Bliss said. “Where would you like to go?” “Drop me off on any M class planet,” Garcia said. “Not going to happen,” Bliss said. “Not yet.” “So I am in jail?!” Garcia demanded.
“No, you’re being acclimated to your new setting,” Bliss said. “You are capable of acclimating. You have to give yourself a chance to…”
“I don’t have to do shit!” Garcia said. “You can’t make me.”
Bliss was silent. She nodded. “I cannot make you. If you persist in this direction, you will eventually be dropped off onto an M class planet. You will even be given some choices in this, but those choices will be limited to a compatible paradigm so that the playing field is even. You could also retire to a one of the world spaces in the sphere.” “How will I know I am away from you and all this High Tech spy stuff?” Garcia said.
“There is no way to determine whether you’re immersed in High Tech,” Bliss said. “We could erase that part of your memory if you like. I submit to you, we, humanity, have always been immersed in High Tech. Some of us even knew it. The alchemist of old, they knew it, intuitively, and they knew if they said the right words or wrote the correct symbols, the Universe would open up for them. They were right about that, and also wrong. It’s more complicated. High Tech understands intentions. It understands context. You can’t just will yourself to win the lottery and stay in that system. You can’t trick it with rationalizations that you’ will be more altruistic. Yeah, even the greediest person can be more altruistic if you let their winnings be great enough, but that’s not the point. Sometimes, being an advanced spirit means playing within the context you find yourself in. What you resist, persists.” Garcia crossed his arms. “Are you done preaching?” “I was aiming for educational,” Bliss said.
“I want out,” Garcia said.
“Name a destination,” Bliss said.
“I don’t know! Ten Forwards?” Garcia said.
“You want a drink?”
“Maybe,” Garcia said.
“You want a drink, or you want to get drunk?” Bliss asked.
“Maybe both,” Garcia said.
“You could do that here,” Bliss said.
“Drinking alone would suggest I have a drinking problem,” Garcia said.
“Drinking with others doesn’t mean you don’t have a problem,” Bliss said.
“Maybe I just want to mingle and get laid,” Garcia said.
“You want sex?” Bliss asked.
“You’re offering?” Garcia asked.
“I could accommodate you,” Bliss said.
“Even knowing I only wish to feign affection so I can get close enough to break your neck?” Garcia said. “Hard to erase that from our dialogue, now that you inserted it.” “I could accommodate you without touching you,” Bliss said.
“That’s not sex, by definition,” Garcia said.
“I could engage you telepathically. Mind you, I am using that word loosely, it would not be true telepathy, but rather brain to brain connection through our technology.
You would not be able to distinguish between mental collaboration and physical intimacy. I am, however, an actual telepath, more so than you, so we could add an extra psychic component, which always enhances the flavor. If you didn’t want me, there are any number of willing partners that are interested in you. Hell, half the crew would likely indulge you if you asked, partly because of your history. If you put yourself live on the network, you will be accommodated. Some people will come as they are, very them, while others will use avatars to be more enticing to you. Some will be aliens. Some will be sentient computer programs. Mind you, every experience you have will be available to others to share in. Some will want the experience of being with you, some will want the experience of being you. This is complicated. Slow the train down. Let’s discuss what you really want.”
“What I really really want?” Garcia asked.
Bliss smiled, but didn’t laugh. “You share his humor.”
“Who’s?” Garcia asked.
Bliss snapped her fingers. They went elsewhere. Garcia orientated. This was TenForwards, or near enough. This was a much larger place than the one he was familiar with. It became clear they were at the upper most level of the main fuselage, where the empennage that held the saucer met the main fuselage. In the inner space was a cluster of chairs, a central circle stage for dancing or playing music, and there was a bar. Going forwards one could step out onto the main fuselage, under a transparent blister that folded to the empennage and allowed people to walk forwards and look straight down past the dish. One could walk along the outside of the empennage to the back and look aft, taking in the view of the engine nacelles. He did just that, completed a full circle around the empennage. He walked out onto a portion of the blister and looked down, standing on
‘nothing’ that was something. He felt the glass, transparent aluminum? He pushed his head and hands against it, testing its reality.
He walked around again, looking up at the saucer, up at the nacelles. They were not at warp. Space was still. Kids were out with telescopes, identifying types of stars and other stellar objects and structures. It was a class. There was another blister, a bubble blister, center of the main fuselage where another class had gathered. There were four bubble blisters under the saucer section, at compass points, occupied with students, only they were upside down compared to him. He suspected there were bubbles on the top of the saucer section, and underneath the main fuselage.
“Student field trips from the inner sphere?” Garcia asked.
“We’re all students on this ship,” Bliss offered. “Let’s go get a drink.”
They retired back inside, at one of the tables near the exit to the outer blister.
They were raised from the floor. It took three steps up to be even with the outer fuselage. Sitting at the table, he took more interest in the patrons of Ten Forwards. There was variety of period dress. It was as if the guest of Ten-Forward were at a Comic Con and were here to show off attire and makeup. There was a party of ladies dressed like British World War II Army Officers. One of them met his eyes and smiled at him. There were aliens. Species he was not familiar with. There was a Lurian at the bar and for a moment he was hopeful it was Morn: it wasn’t.
“What’s up with the dress code?” Garcia asked.
“People come here to relax,” Bliss offered. “Some wear thing that remind them of a past life, some wear things to celebrate past lives, some just wear things to be creative and have fun. Some people don’t wear anything. Betazeds over there at that table.” Garcia pointed to a human dressed as a cat. “Being a furry identifies with a past life?”
“If she was a Caitian in a past life,” Bliss offered. “Sometimes, we identify with species that are non-human. Sometimes we identify with non-gender roles, or opposite gender roles than ones we are born into. There are psychological reasons for exploring these things, and coming here, being open, and realizing we can be still be accepted…”
“Sometimes there are psychological reasons for not exploring,” Garcia said.
“Sometimes,” Bliss said. “What would you like to not explore?”
Garcia pointed a finger at her, feigning a warning, but was actually appreciating her sneaky way to get him to think about what he was resisting.
A waiter came to take an order. He seemed human. He was clearly a teenager.
“Welcome to Xanadu,” he said.
“Wait wait wait,” Garcia said. “Ten Forwards is called Xanadu.” “This is not deck Ten, and deck Ten is for adults only,” the kids said.
Garcia looked to Bliss. “I requested Ten Forwards.”
“I wanted to keep it PG,” Bliss said. “And you really don’t know enough to know what you want.”
“He looks a bit old to be a Newbie,” the kids said to Bliss. “Oh, anyway, Hello, Loxy. Stranger. My name’s Gerald. How may I serve you?”
“Can’t the computer just take that from my mind and replicate it, point to point?” Garcia asked, a bit annoyed with a teenager wearing a silly hat.
“It could, but then how would I gain experience serving?” the waiter asked. Garcia frowned, skeptically. “You want to serve?”
“Of course,” Gerald said. “What else is there? Plus, I need to practice being social, and what better place than this to push out of my comfort zone.”
“Were you homeschooled?” Garcia asked.
“How did you know?!” Gerald asked.
“I am psychic,” Garcia said.
“Really?!”
“No! Are you stupid?!” Garcia asked.
“No! I’m the smartest one in my class,” Gerald said. He offered an aside, as if it were secret. “That’s why they assigned me here.”
“Do they make you wear that stupid hat?” Garcia asked.
“Oh! I like my hat,” Gerald said. “Kind of French, don’t you think?” “No. Do you know who I am?” Garcia asked.
“Someone who came to Xanadu because they’re hungry?” Gerald asked. “You’re
with Loxy, so I assume you’re an ambassador or some dignitary.”
“You don’t have access to information on guest…”
“Oh, sure, I could use the virtual identifiers, but I find that takes the fun out of it,” Gerald said. “That, and it unduly influences me. If I knew you were a VIP I’d probably be all kinds of weird and unable to function. I’d rather approach you unassumingly. You’re more likely to experience the real me that way. So, thirsty? Hungry? Or seeking Enlightenment?”
Loxy was amused. Garcia was not. He was a little unsettled by the fact he wasn’t amused. This is easy. Why was he struggling? What was burning inside him so fiercely that he felt compelled to do something? What was that something?
“You offer enlightenment?” Garcia asked.
“Not me. You could join one of the meditative circles. There’ll be live music here in an hour, a drum circle actually. That’s kind of enlightened. I think a Traveler will be conducting the session. Or, if you prefer a different host, I could conjure up Guinan,” Gerald offer.
Garcia’s eyes went bright. “Guinan’s here?!”
Gerald laughed. “Oh, you know Guinan! Well, no, she’s not really here. We have a holodeck version of her. People are really fond of that program.”
One of Gerald’s colleagues skated up, on roller skates. She was wearing a poodle
skirt, and had a hairstyle reminiscent of the fifties. “Is Gerald being helpful?” “I got this,” Gerald said.
“I am Kim, his supervisor,” she said, offering her hand. She couldn’t be much older than Gerald. And, she was clearly smitten with Garcia.
“I was being difficult,” Garcia said. “Gerald is doing just fine. I would like a milkshake. And fries. With ketchup. And pink Himalayan salt. Bring the jar, because no one ever puts enough.” “I like you,” Kim said.
“You like everyone,” Gerald said.
“Yeah,” Kim said, not taking her eyes off Garcia. “But I really like you.”