CHAPTER 11
Rossi sat in her spot on the couch, which gave her a view of her door to her right, and the large window to the left. It was the six o’clock position of the clock, if you were looking down at the total circumference of the couch. From this position, she would typically be facing in the direction of travel. The room was boxy, except for the outer wall with the windows, which suggested a curve. The counseling couch was in four sections, also curved, and together the section, with the empty spaces, described a circle. There was a round coffee table with a noticeable, circular, Lazy Susan. A dish with spicy cinnamon flavored candy, and a container of water, illuminated, was on the table. Garcia walked the perimeter of the couch, counter clockwise, trailing his hand along the back of the couch, letting it fall in the in between space, and catching the side and dragging it up along the next couch. Rossi tracked to the point where he disappeared behind her, and then waited for him to return to the other side of her periphery vision.
“My mood is fluctuating,” Garcia said.
“We’ve noticed,” Rossi said.
Garcia paused, looking at her, and then resumed his pacing. “I was in a fairly reasonable mood until they played that joke.” “Yeah, not cool,” Rossi said.
“Yet, you didn’t stop them,” Garcia said, stopping directly opposite of her in the circle. He was a moon at perigee.
“I am not policing that,” Rossi said. “And though I disapprove, it suggest a modicum of health. That kind of joke has normative functions that allow people to understand the social landscape. It helped them feel better about themselves, and your response was sufficient to let them know you’re reasonably in a good place. Had you responded in anger and shut that down, that, too, would have allowed them to understand the social landscape.”
“So it was a calculated gesture?” Garcia asked.
“Tam, please tell me you have not forgotten everything you learned from basic psych. That was completely spontaneous. It was an unconscious probe by the group to understand the present trajectory of the personalities involved in the group,” Rossi said.
“Even bullying has a normative function outside of the individual agents and so if you look at the phenomena from a system perspective, all the agents are caught up in archetypal subconscious roleplay.”
Garcia faced Rossi, leaned into the couch. Though he seemed to accept her response, he was still calculating variables. A brief smile flashed across his face. “I guess it was funny,” he said. He almost admitted to flirting with
He became serious. “My name was on that box.”
Rossi nodded.
“Someone put another weapon of mass destruction into my hands,” Garcia said. “Which means, what? Someone knows I’m going to blow something up and wants to give me the means to fix it? Or someone else is going to blow things up and that’s the remedy? Or…”
“Tam,” Rossi said. “There is no end to this speculation. We don’t have enough information.”
Garcia came around the segment of couch and sat on it. He pulled his legs up, crisscross apple sauce. He rubbed his head. “I experienced a profound sense of déjà vu when I saw the toy. That feeling creeps me out, because it’s as if I have done this all before, and yet, I don’t remember what I should do next. Conversely, I have experienced a lot of really good moods lately, which is odd to me because I don’t have any clue what life is about to serve, but I am genuinely happy, as if there is something bigger than me in charge and I don’t have to worry. I wonder if that good mood is because that other me, the glowing eye me, has access to more information. Maybe he is my subconscious personified, and he isn’t trying to necessarily make things right, but to make sure I am okay.”
Rossi drew her legs up, crisscross apple sauce, mirroring Garcia. “So, part of you feels content, that you can let go of this illusion that you have any control over reality, and this other part feels like you’re stuck in a repetitive game that you should know the solution, but you don’t. Sounds pretty human.”
Garcia frowned, leaned forward, putting his chin on his fists, and his elbows on his knees. He thought long and hard about what he was about to share.
“I don’t want to be melancholy, or moody,” Garcia said. “And yet, what we’re engaged in seems to call for a level of seriousness… All the things I have done calls for perpetual mourning… Life in prison.”
“And yet, you are free, sometimes even happy, and supported by the people around you, the very people you have injured,” Rossi said.
“Yeah, just one big happy family, making jokes,” Garcia said.
“People adapt. Fleet personal tend to be better at adapting to reality than the general public,” Rossi said.
Garcia seemed to agree. “As you know, there are aspects of me, personalities that lived their entire lives on Earth, most of them in the late 20th century, going into the 21st. I know it was fiction. Well, now, looking back at it, I know. It was a simulation geared to shape my overall personality. My memories of it don’t feel like memories, mostly because they’re not contiguous with my own, as if I am getting flash back into past lives. I can visit them in my dreams, and when mediating, and those lives are as real to me as this one I am living is. When I am there, this world feels like the fiction. Anyway, there is this thing, I don’t know what to call it, a feature of 20th century American culture that is fear based, a spinning of conspiracy where malicious entities and black-op government agencies and secret occult groups have the entire population enslaved. On one level, that was true because I had these Kelvan Overlords and Watchers influencing my life, interjecting random variables to elicit responses. Many times while engaged in the simulations I was eager to participate in those conspiracies, infiltrate groups, mostly because I just wanted to know truth, partly because I was bored. Every time I thought I had figured something out and that I had a solid hold on reality, there would be this new level of conspiracy interwoven into the plot. There were Reptilians. There were Grays. If I line up all the aliens I encountered there, there is a parallel here. From the Gorn to the Ferengi, they’re all here. When I am here, I find myself thinking about there, and that was the fiction. Those beings feel like they’re metaphors, and all the interaction was simply symbolic in nature…”
“And because it so parallels you present reality, you feel desperate to figure this out, as if there is a meta-purpose to reality. If you could only understand your role, and the roles of all the agents in your sphere of influence, you might end the game,” Rossi said.
Garcia bit on his thumb nail. “I don’t expect you to answer this. It’s been asked before, by better, and there may not be a solution. How do you know if you’re dreaming? My life, it is so bizarre. It’s complexly convoluted, filled with amazing people, and adventures… At the risk of sounding arrogant, it’s as if it was tailored to me. Sorry. I’m still wanting to find a conspiracy here to explain my life.”
Rossi unfolded her legs, poured herself some water, she took a candy and tossed one to Garcia, and then unwrapped one and put in her mouth. She sipped water over it. Garcia unwrapped one end of the candy with his teeth, and then put the candy, wrapper in all, in his mouth, and pulled out the wrapper leaving the candy in.
“Your life is amazing, and it is definitely complex, and you are entrenched in a conspiracy,” Rossi said. “Forget about Pressman. We’re going up against aliens that are the equivalent of Gods and they have clearly influenced our history.”
“Yeah,” Garcia said. He crunched through the candy. “In several of my life cycles, there is a version of life where the present day world, Star Fleet, is presented in a fiction format, as if they were preparing me for this reality, inspiring me to dream of being a Captain of a starship. In fact, one particular cycle…”
“Cycle?” Rossi asked.
“Life times,” Garcia said, not even pausing. “The simulations I lived in were called cycles. In many ways, it was kind of like Groundhog day, only, instead of just one day, it was whole lives,” Garcia said. “Anyway, in this one version I was an alien, a Pleiadian, incarnated onto Earth in order to help them through their crisis. Oh…” Garcia nearly came of the couch again. His eyes focused on something way beyond the room they were in. “The Metrones.” “What about the Metrones?” Rossi asked.
“They’re the Pleiadian,” Garcia said, closing his eyes and tracking something. “Mandora is in that world. Oh, wow. Everyone I know, they’re all their, support characters in my cycles….”
“Tam,” Rossi said. “You must be remembering it wrong.”
“You think?!” Garcia asked, coming off the couch to resume pacing. “Because if they’re there, then, I am definitely still in a computer simulation, right?”
“Or, Kelinda, who now has access to time travel tech, is messing with you by inserting additional simulations in your past,” Rossi said.
“Which, I am only now, conveniently, becoming aware of? We’re screwed,”
Garcia said. “There’s no stopping her, if she already has access.” “No, it means, we’re winning. She can’t do anything big without unraveling it all, but she can make you start second guessing yourself,” Rossi said.
“You’re there, in one of the cycles,” Garcia said.
“Don’t even go there,” Rossi said, raising a hand to block. “I don’t want hear about it.” “How could I have missed all of this? The Mandela affect?” Garcia paused. “What if I am actually reliving this life, and each time I remember a little bit more of the past? But, because it’s real life, there are also permutations in the flow that result in cumulative net changes over time.” “Because that’s not insane,” Rossi said.
“It’s not the first time someone has suggested such,” Garcia said.
“I familiar with the Eternal Return,” Rossi said.
“It’s more than that! Marijić was right when she brought up the holographic universe concept,” Garcia said. “We’re in the Matrix.”
“Tam, lots of folks, great scientists, have explored that concept as a metaphor for explaining some odd features of the quantum mechanics that underlie our reality, but that’s all it has ever been, metaphor,” Rossi said. “As Einstein pointed out, reality may be an illusion, but it is persistent.”
“We have participated in a time loop,” Garcia said.
“Yes, Tam, I was there. We created a time loop to prevent a time loop,” Rossi said.
Garcia sat back down and leaned back. “I am exhausted,” he said. “And I am going to make a command decisions. I am going to give Soran access to a G-Device.”
“I think that’s a discussion that needs to happen with your Captains present,” Rossi said. “No, I want them out of the loop on this one,” Garcia said.
“He’s a rogue agent given to us by Pressman,” Rossi said. “You can’t trust him.” “Of course I can’t,” Garcia said. “And I am going to use that. If he helps us stop the destruction of the timeline, we gain. If he goes rogues and does something bad, I will use that to burn Pressman. Either way, our gain.”
“You do understand, the core principle of being Star Fleet is that if we have to sacrifice our principles in order to survive, then we have already lost,” Rossi said.
“We’re already in that end game!” Garcia said.
“Oh, I thought you wanted my opinion,” Rossi said “I do,” Garcia said. “I am talking to you.”
“You’re talking to me or at me,” Rossi asked.
“I am telling you what I am going to do,” Garcia said.
“Why even tell me this? If this blows up in your face, and it most likely will, when there is an investigation and they ask me, I will tell them we had this conversation, that this was a calculated ploy on your part,” Rossi said. “There are limits to confidentiality in this office.”
“And that is why I am telling you,” Garcia said. “You always speak your truth.”
♫♪►
Niki found Tama Orleans in her usual hiding spot, the observation dome on the bottom of the saucer section. With no nearby objects and the ship’s running light minimized, the back ground of stars was absolutely brilliant. Tama was aware of her company, but continued in her present task of drawing on a jumbo-PADD, a design generally used by artists. She had a variety of stylus available to her, but she generally used her fingers. She had a regular PADD on the floor next to her, displaying text. With a pull of her fingers she could zoom in, fill in details, and zoom back out. Niki pulled up next to her and marveled at the photo. It revealed a saucer section of a ship resting in a pedestal that was resembled Stonehenge.
“Wow,” Niki said. “That’s pretty good.” Tama shrugged, indifferent.
“I think the saucer section has extendable landing gear, though,” Niki said. “According to the text, the gear was stuck in the up position,” Tama said, filling in another details, moving the orientation around to verify a 3 dimensional continuity. “Had they sat down without the gear, it would have never flown again, so they beamed stone from 500 kilometers away and positioned it under the ship until they could repair the underlying engineering issue. It’s fairly technical and I couldn’t follow most of it. All I gathered is it broke and they had to kill all power and reboot.” “It looks like Stonehenge,” Niki said.
Tama looked up. “I should hope so. This is from one of Garcia’s alternate histories, offering an explanation for Stonehenge and the King Arthur stories. The ship is the USS Camelot.”
“No way,” Niki said, picking up the PADD next to her. She scrolled to the top of the text. “Shining City on a Hill, by Jeremy Vale, Garcia’s childhood pen name. Wow. I thought I read everything by him. How did I miss it?” “It’s rated adult,” Tama said, spelling it out for her.
“Really?!” Niki asked.
“I found a passcode which allowed me access to hidden files,” Tama said.
“Really?! You got past the filters?” Niki asked.
“You’re not going to tell on me, are you?” Tama asked, a little fearful and a little angry.
“No. I want to read this and any others you may have found,” Niki said. “Why is adult rated? Graphic violence? Profanity?”
“Pornographic material,” Tama said. She pushed her hair out of her eyes. “I quit reading when I got to the love scene between Tam’s character and Guinevere.” “REALLY?!” Niki said, instructing the PADD to search ‘Guinevere.’ A side panel opened with a listing of the chosen word in order of its usage in the text.
Tama interrupted her curiosity. “Gross, don’t read that here next to me,” she said. “It’s bad enough you’re clearly in love with my dad, but to force me to witness you salivating is just not right.” “I thought Deltans were highly sexualized and open minded people,” Niki said. “Everywhere I go, ‘your part Deltan, you must know about sex,’” Tama said, sarcastically. “Just because I lived in a society that has no apparent boundaries doesn’t mean I participated. And I hate knowing my father’s a freak and, based on that text, I would say he’s been a freak since at least six years old! Reading this is like finding his first diary and discovering he wrote about all his sexual conquests. It’s disgusting.” “I would no doubt feel the same if I found my parents writing about their intimacy, but this is fiction,” Niki said.
“Please, it’s my dad fulfilling his fantasies through his writings,” Tama argued. “But isn’t that all fiction? We are all ultimately sexual beings. But it sounds like not only are you not curious, you hold the subject of sex in contempt,” Niki pointed out. “Deltans are inherently telepathic, typically physical touch induced telepathy, but sometimes you can pick up projections without touching, and, it just gets old, that’s all they ever think of,” Tama complained.
“That can’t be the only thing they think of. They’re supposed to be better at math and physics, basically much smarter than humans,” Niki said.
“So, you’re calling me stupid?” Tama Orleans asked. “No,” Niki said, wondering where that came from.
“So what’s your point?” Tama snapped.
“That they think about more things than sex, but that’s the part that really seems to bother you,” Niki said. “Have you been forced against your will to participate?” “No!” Tama said, angry. “I’m not included in any dialogue at all. I’m an outcast, cause I’m not fully Deltan, but I’m not anything else, either!”
“Oh,” Niki said. She thought about it further. “That actually makes sense. Do you think maybe because you don’t receive telepathic invitations they think you’re ignoring overtures or request, or maybe they hold back for fear of overwhelming you?” “Why are we discussing this? Are you Deltan curious?” Niki said.
“Well, sure, I’m curious,” Niki said. “It’s reported that a Deltan can take away pain with a single touch. Not cure, but no pain is cool. I’ve also heard humans who have sex with a Deltan are never satisfied with partners from the same species again, and that sex with Deltans can even drive humans insane. Garcia’s not insane, but I wonder if his number of partners is because he was intimate with a Deltan and he’s been chasing that high ever since…”
Tama eyebrows narrowed, almost searing Niki’s eyes out. “Why can’t you understand that I’m embarrassed at my father’s behavior? Nothing justifies or explains his promiscuity, but you could care less about my feelings because all you can think of is Tam! Oh, Tam is so talented. Oh, Tam is so smart. Oh, Tam is so athletic. Tam Tam Tam! Ugh! You’re so obsessed I’m surprised you didn’t ask him to marry you, too.”
“I’m sorry,” Niki said.
“For what? Loving my dad? Entertaining inappropriate thoughts about him?
Wanting to read filth?” Tama asked.
“I was trying to communicate that I can’t imagine what it’s like for you,” Niki said. “That I don’t understand, but that I truly want to.”
“Ask Rossi. She seems to know everything,” Tama said.
“She offered an explanation for your feelings? She only ever asks me more questions, no input,” Niki said, a little surprised.
“Umph, she must tailor session based on her perceived idea of the client’s need,” Tama said, a new wave of fury causing her to make fists. “My anger and disgust is probably derived from my mother unconsciously transmitting her feelings of unrequited love towards Tam, compounded by the physical and emotional abuse of my stepfather, plus my perceived abandonment of my biological father, and whatever other ‘isms’ you might like to add,” Tama said.
“What do you think?” Niki asked.
“If she’s right, then there are going to be a lot of babies with similar issues because no matter how good your math, Garcia clearly can’t spend quality time with all of us,” Tama said.
“You’re jealous?” Niki asked.
“How dare you?!”
“Sorry, it’s just a question. I would think more family is good. I’ve read stories of people from big families and they tend to be better adjusted than the families that had one child,” Niki offered. “People tend to learn to share faster when in big families. I would love having siblings.”
“Yeah. Big families are great. Except for the big families where the family wasn’t well adjusted. I’m sure you can find stories about that, too,” Tama said. “Meanwhile, my father’s running all over the entire galaxy making more kids like me. Kids without a father. Who needs a father that doesn’t give a damn whether they live or die because he’s just a selfish sperm donor?!”
“I think you’re seeing it wrong,” Niki said.
“Or, more likely, you’re so biased in Tam’s favor that you will never understand my position,” Tama said. “No one understands me.”
“Maybe so,” Niki said, agreeing that she didn’t understand. “Help me understand.
What do you think about Rossi’s explanation?” “You’re not my counselor,” Tama said.
“I’m a friend,” Niki offered.
“Proximity based friendship is more a coerced acquaintance than genuine companionship,” Tama said.
Niki frowned. “I’m sad that you feel this way.”
Tama shrugged.
“Are you saying you don’t want to be friends?” Niki asked.
“I came here to be alone, what do you think?” Tama asked.
“I don’t think you want to be alone,” Niki said.
“Really? I came here alone. I’m clearly engaged in an activity that doesn’t require help or interruption. How much more of a hint do you need?” Tama asked.
“Okay,” Niki said, getting up. “May I take the PADD?”
“Go ahead. Just don’t let anyone know I opened those files,” Tama said. “Is this a test, to see if I’m really a friend?” Niki asked.
“Maybe,” Tama said.
Niki nodded. “Okay,” she said. She opened the hatch leading back into the ship. “Tama Orleans, I do want to spend time with you. Would you let me know when you feel up to some company?”