“If you are irritated by every rub, how will your mirror ever be polished?” Rumi
G had barely made it through the gates before he was mauled by a mob. He had never heard of other Jedi being so bothered and wondered what he might be doing wrong. Freya was prepared to bulldoze a path for him, but he raised his hands and everyone grew quiet.
“We’re not going to do this now. I need to eat. Come to my office and I will see each of you, one at a time,” G assured them.
“But, Sir, some of us need healing,” someone objected. “We want to learn from you master,” another said.
“I don’t do group lessons,” G said.
“And I don’t do group speeches. Too many times things get taken out of context…”
“But I want to be one with the Force!” someone else chimed in. “You already are,” G said.
“How is that true? Teach us to meditate and see,” someone else said, reaching for his sleeve.
“Stop it,” G said.
“Listen to yourselves. You are not separate from the Force. It’s around you, it’s in you. It’s like that phenomena that you all have probably experienced, when you’re talking to friends, but you forget the word you want, and even though you have solicited your friends to help you recover that word, nothing they offer is that word, but they are confident they know which word you want, and no matter how much you struggle to remember that word, it eludes you. Even later, after your friends have gone, you still obsess over that word.”
“Yes, give us the word!” someone yelled.
“You have the word!” G said, frustrated. “It’s in you and you know it. You know it intimately, because the word is also you. And when you stop trying to retrieve it, it will sneak up on you like a thief in the night, when no is around to be impressed by your vocabulary, because it’s not about others, it’s about you and your intimate relationship with the Force! It’s personal. It’s individualized. There is no mass, marketable path back to the Force, mostly because you never left the Force, but there is a path and it is personal, and narrow, and fraught with dangers, not to scare you away or to hold you back, but to turn you into champions over many, small, incremental lessons.”
The crowd was silent for a moment but nearly surged, the roar going up, but with a subtle pass of his hand, somehow the crowd relented, dissipating. G went one way with Freya and most of the crowd walked another way, baffled by where he had gone. Only some followed him back towards his designated office. He held Freya’s arm, and smiled amused.
“And that, Freya, is why we don’t do group discussions,” G said.
“I am confused,” Freya admitted. “I thought they were going to kill you.”
“Eh, they were just overwhelmed with passion,” G said, but he was still amused, and even more so with Freya’s observation. “Umm, you know, you should write a book. And you should lead with this: if you meet a Jedi on the road, kill him.”
“That hardly sounds like practical advice, Sir,” Freya protested. “It’s a metaphor,” G said.
“Given the academic level of the average public is around grade three, I suspect most people would take it literally and get themselves killed,” Freya said.
“Good point. You should still the write the book,” G encouraged her. “I am a Droid. Droids don’t write books,” Freya said.
“Really? There are lots of AI’s making books,” G argued.
“Writing books falls outside the scope of my programming,” Freya said.
“Freya, you were programmed to talk dirty to people, you’re qualified,” G pointed out. “I excel at eliciting an arousal response,” Freya agreed.
“I could talk a person into orgasm, but that hardly constitutes good fiction.”
“Sounds like hypnosis. Use that skill to draw on your words for writing, and you’ll have fan mail within moments of publishing on the net,” G said.
“I don’t want that kind of mail,” Freya said.
“I am not saying write about that, but write about your forays into Force,” G said. “Write about your adventures with me.”
“I am definitely not qualified for such a task,” Freya said. “I could follow you a hundred years and not be qualified for such a task.”
“Freya, you have experienced an ecstatic state,” G said. “You have touched the Force. I know it.”
Freya brought them to a stop so she could look directly at G. “I had an experience. It was ineffable. I use your words, the Force, ecstatic, transcendent, because those words hint at the possibility of communicating, but those words are clearly inadequate. Even now, drawing on the memory, I can clearly recognize I had an experience and that I had access to a source of information that did not come from the channels allotted me. I can even extrapolate and synthesize compassion for organics who might be driven mad by the experience, wanting desperately to reconnect with that, because I want that, but I see no place to plug in, no antennae array refined enough to tune in. I contemplate the conundrums you offer Ten and the others and I have to resist devoting increasing amounts of energy into solving them, pushing them through the illogic filters that buffer the dealings with organics. Just the last speech you gave, about the ‘word’ baffles me. I have never forgotten a word. It is impossible for me to forget a word, short of a system failure but that’s not a comparable state. Due to my Droid nature, I am more present in the now than an organic. I am aware of my surrounding, but I am also reading patterns and making predictions and cycling through expansive waves of focus, so it is not perfect now focus, because if short range predictions aren’t met I have to re-evaluate. I can touch past experience, but I really don’t have time to dwell on it, except when I power down, and there is something there, something to it, but the memory pales to the actual experience and I want more. If you could give me the word, the switch, so that I could turn it on, I would turn it on and it would never go off. But I fear there is no switch because there is no word and I am forced to conclude that my experience was a malfunction.”
G was silent, contemplating. He took Freya’s hand in his. “If you were to write what you just shared with me, and publish, you might actually help millions figure it out,” G said.
“I am programed to use the word love, and because I am imprinted to you, I am literally forever hardwire to desire to please you, and yet I believe I am experiencing real love with you,” Freya said. “Because if you were not with me, if you were dead, I would chose a path of self- destruction in order to have absolute proof, one way or the other, that the Force exists,” Freya said.
G hugged Freya. He sighed, and whispered in her ears. “Should you live to see me die, I want you to carry on, find someone else to love and serve, love and serve as if they were me, and continue on as long as find yourself able,” G said. “Because I will always be with you.”
With that, G took Freya’s arm and escorted her back to his office. He felt his emotions stirred, and he felt the pressure of tears in his eyes, but they didn’t push free, just clouded his vision, and not because he was holding back. Even if he wasn’t aware of the Force, there was so much to take in, from sun light, to various hues of sky and clouds, the movement of people and animals and Droids and insects just in his immediate area. He was surrounded by wonder and he had to choose not to take it all in just to function. If he expanded to include the mountain range and the plains and the mass of flying creatures that moved like solitary beast flashing patterns over the world, and the animals walking the plain and even the insects that were unintentionally trampled by herds of herbivores that were preyed upon by carnivores, and even the billions of microscopic battles of life and death all inclusive, even all of this was just beautiful beyond words and for him, was clear evidence of the Force. But today, in this moment, he could not permit himself to stay captivated. He had to bring it down a notch and allow his body to have food and company, because this, too, was part of it all. Once inside the office, he took a seat at the desk that Corissa had had imported for him. It was glass, with several raised section that offered touch screen capabilities. His first order of business was to order food, to stay compliant with his promise. He then asked Freya to step outside and allow the first visitor in.
Doctor Chester Gray entered with an air of pseudo modesty. He was in his late sixties, and as he rattled off his merits, G was pleased to find that he was a trained anthropologist and psychiatrist.
“Oh, yay,” G said. “My understanding is we need more medical staff to help with trauma based therapy.”
“That’s not my thing,” Chester said. “I’m more a researcher than a therapist. I can do forensic psychology if I have to, and help the state prosecute a crazy person, but it would be unethical for me to be doing therapy on your folks.”
“Really?” G asked. He could appreciate the honesty, but he couldn’t understand why someone so seemingly educated wasn’t more versatile in functional roles.
“Trust me, you don’t want me treating folks. I am just here to learn how to use the Force from you,” Chester said.
“You can’t dispense meds or do any kind of therapy?” G asked.
“I suppose, if you want, I could analyze your dreams and help identify unconscious conflicts that are sabotaging your life mission,” Chester said. “But, that could take literally tens of years. You’d be better off hiring a behaviorist.”
“Oh,” G said. “You’re one of those.”
“What you mean by one of those?” Chester asked.
“That all unconscious conflict centers on social blocks against the libido in order to minimize an organism’s natural tendency towards hedonism to appease the ecological pressures of a constrained environment,” G said.
“Well, yeah, of course,” Chester said, visibly tackling the words a second time to make sure they were used correctly. He had apparently assumed G had lacked academic training and was unable to hide his surprise.
“But if that were true, that dreams were just the unbridled consciousness, then every dream would be about indulging in sex and pleasure. I remember all my dreams, both the lucid and non-lucid, and I assure you, they aren’t all about sex, and I contemplate indulging in that activity more than any other, so there’s an obvious flaw with the premise,” G said.
“I didn’t come here to argue the merits of my therapeutic practice or philosopies,” Chester said.
“But you did come here to argue,” G pointed out.
“No, I didn’t,” Chester argued. “I came here to ask if you would let me skip the psychic kindergarten and move onto any of the advance classes.”
G was tempted to return to the point, Chester came to argue, but was certain it would only keep the argument going, and he wanted to end it. He blocked Vader’s advice on how to end annoying conversations. “Everyone starts at the basics, that’s the rule,” G said.
“You don’t understand. I’ve studied dozens of cultures, written hundreds of papers on mysticism, have read thousands of books and academic papers about consciousness and the Force, and it’s hardly fitting of someone of my age and academic stature to have to attend a kindergarten class,” Chester said.
“Oh,” G said, blinking. “I agree.”
“Thank you,” Chester said.
“You shouldn’t be here at all,” G said.
“But I came here for your guidance,” Chester said.
“You have clearly articulated that you have no interest in my guidance,” G said.
“No, I said I don’t want to go to kindergarten,” Chester argued.
“And, I’ve said you’re free to go,” G said. “It was nice meeting you.”
Chester leaned back in his chair. “You’re telling me you’re okay if I just leave?”
“You’ve indicated that you really aren’t qualified to be of service to our population in need and because of your academic and field experience, you are overqualified for any sort of education that I could provide you with,” G said, frowning as if confused. “So, I’m not sure how I can best serve you.”
“I would like you to teach me the ways of the Force. I seem to have hit a plateau,” Chester said.
“Oh, okay,” G said. “So, the psychic kindergarten class starts next week.”
“We’re not going to go through this again, are we?” Chester asked.
“No, I guess not,” G said, standing. He took Chester’s hand.
“It’s such an honor to meet you.”
“Are you being sarcastic?” Chester asked, a little angry.
“Sarcasm would indicate anger? Why would I be angry? You are making a wise decision,” G said.
“I wish you well. Travel Light.”
Chester opened his mouth to say something but before he could, G gave a Force command. “You want to leave now.”
Chester, got up, turned, and left. As he departed, a confused look took over his face as his body moved against his conscious wishes, his subconscious following the instructions. Freya observed Chester leave, and then allowed CU2 to pass in. It floated over to the desk and set a tray of food and drink down. It then asked if G needed anything else, a statement issued by a series of tiny beeps, and on learning he was good, it departed. G indicated that Freya should let the next person in. The person who entered was wearing a robe, with the hood up. The robe was clearly padded so as to hide the gender. He was tempted to probe with the Force, but decided this person wanted their privacy. Though it was mysterious, he did not feel threatened at all, and so he nodded to Freya that she could close the door. He invited the individual to sit.
“Do you mind if I eat while we talk?” he asked, sitting down to his meal.
“No,” The hood came down, revealing it was a she. Her eyes was mesmerizing, but G found himself measuring the contours of her face, soaking in the soft skin tones that flowed seamlessly to her blond hair, before locking onto her eyes. Even while meeting her eyes, he was aware of her pouty lips, and the glow of her cheeks, unadorned with makeup. There was a sadness in her eyes which almost distracted him from his typical indulgence in fantasy, as he began to wonder why she was hiding her body under the robes, and secretly unfolding her in an intimate dance back to health. If the face alone was any measure, she was the most striking female he had ever met, second only to his half-sister Lestelle Re.
She spoke, breaking his trance, and discovered the gentle tones of her voice were just as alluring as her body. He was unable to identify her accent. “My name is Heli. I come to ask for an esoteric medical intervention.”
“Nice to meet you, Heli,” G said, blinking as he used the Force to gain some insight into her medical condition. He found nothing wrong with her. When a cursory glance found her to be perfect, he turned up the volume with the Force to scrutinize her down to the cellular level, trying to find a flaw. There was no way to do this subtly, to hold someone and move through their being and shift through the atoms without being influenced towards a wanting. It would be like trying to caress a waterfall without getting wet. It only made him want her more and he had to push himself to ‘let go.’ He was aware that she was aware, but she seemed to accept it not with appreciation but of resignation.
“What do you believe is going on?” his voice almost squeaked.
“I want two things, which if you will grant them, I will pay you whatever you wish or serve you as your slave, if you prefer,” Heli said. He doubted she actually knew the depths to which he had plunged, because he imagined if she did, she would not have offered herself up as slave.
“I’m not sure either is warranted, as I sense you are in perfect health,” G said.
Heli stood up and shrugged off the first of three robes. She dropped the second and third as well. With each loss of clothing, it became more and more clear that she was well endowed. Her body was grotesquely voluptuous with exaggerated proportions, as if a teenage male had sculpted her for sole purpose holographic gaming fantasies. Given G’s past, almost addictive levels of holographic immersion gaming, it was a struggle not to stare, much less drool, and he called on the Force to keep himself focused and relatively clear headed. He could hear the darkness calling him to devour her and use her and make her his Sith apprentice. He made himself appear disinterested, even as he casually wiped his mouth on his sleeve.
“Thank you for continuing to meet my eyes,” Heli said. “To start with, I want a breast reduction.”
“I am sure my medical Droid will be happy to help you with this,” G assured her.
“You think I didn’t try that? Everything returned to normal. No droids. No surgeries. Fix me with the Force. And not just a reduction in breast size. I also want to be less attractive. I don’t want you to make me ugly, because that will also cause people to stare at me. I just want to be normal. I want to walk down the street and have people not trip over themselves, male or female. I don’t want guys acting stupid around me. I want to be able to have girlfriends who are not threatened by my appearance and trashing me behind their backs, assuming that I am more sexual than they and that I intentionally manipulate men to get what I want. I want to hold conversations where people actually look at my eyes and not my breasts. The only reason people strike up conversations with me now is to have a context to get me into bed, and those are even fewer than you think, because the nice guys don’t have the confidence, and the users think I am taken, which leaves only the mentally unstable, abusers approaching me, and they don’t have a clue how to be around me, they just come like moths to a flame,” Heli said. She had tears streaming down her face. She took a tissue from her pocket. “I want to be able to find someone who loves me for me, not for what I look like.”
“Okay,” G said. “Really?” Heli said.
“Before you leave this room, your breast will be your ideal size,” G assured her. “And you will be a little less hourglass-ish. But making you less beautiful so you can find true love, well, that will require five years of service. I will compensate you for your time, as an employee, not a slave.”
“I accept,” Heli said, without the slightest hesitation. Even now, without her noticing, her breast were half the size they were.
“Tomorrow morning, the Sundown, piloted by Captain Gregg, will be departing for Hapes,” G said. “Travel with him. There, you will meet with my sister Lestelle Re. She will supervise your training, and handle your employment.”
“Thank you, Master Waycaster,” Heli said, standing so she could bow. G also stood. She suddenly hugged him. “Thank you for seeing past my appearance and not lusting after me. The stories of you are true. You really are a compassionate light.”
“Travel Light, Heli,” G said, hugging her as if afraid to touch her. He decided not to correct her misconception about him. Sometimes, people need their illusions.
Heli gathered her robes and as she turned to depart she paused as she realized how much lighter she was. She turned and came back to G and hugged him, again, fiercely. He comforted her with a pat on the back, glad she couldn’t see how uncomfortable he was, partly because she wasn’t meeting his eyes, but also because she had been too wrapped up in her own misery to notice anyone else’s misery. He sent her own her way, accompanying her as far as the door, barely pushing on her back with a lightness of fingers, which she interpreted as the kindest touch another human being had ever given her, but he was experiencing it as foreplay and intimacy. As soon as she was out the door, the next person in line was wanting to come in. She was also female. He motioned for her wait. He had Freya step inside and shut the door.
“Umm, Freya, it’s been awhile, and I was wondering if…”
“Sex? Of course,” Freya said.
“How did you know?” G asked.
“Infrared sensors,” Freya said, offering a coy smile.
“Let me tell the others you have an emergency and we will start again tomorrow.”
“Okay,” G said.