The bucket on Tasha's left is empty. The one on her right is full of brown bottles of beer, and next to those is a hand-held net and a soup can full of worms. The fishing gear was easily found, so it stands to reason there are fish in the pond, but Tasha hasn't had a bite yet.
She isn't certain what day it is, or how many she has passed in the simulation. Her PersoCom had explained about relative time rates, and that things were deliberately running slower here so as not to tax Tasha's brain. Which doesn't mean it hasn't been getting exercise: Nurse Tasha always has a game ready when Tasha feels up to it. Word games, puzzles, number games, memory games, card games - all of them meant to get the patient's brain back in shape. But then there are days like this, where Tasha can just do whatever she wants, even if what she wants is to do nothing.
Tasha hasn't had any visitors since SAINA tried to get in. Nurse Tasha has been handling the communications. So far, messages have been prerecorded going both ways, to deal with the time differences. Tasha knows she's given her report, in bits and pieces, over the past several periods of wakefulness. She just can't remember for sure if she's finished it. And sometimes she has to replay the messages from Gabriel and the others to refresh her memory.
To Tasha, it all feels like being in limbo. Limbo of mind, limbo of self, of place and of time. A world evoid of conflict and stress, unnatural and yet with purpose. At least, she thinks it has a pupose. Sometimes she forgets that, too. So much has been hard to remember.
"Oh well," she breathes as she lazily casts the line back in to the lake. She can't help but think Nora made this intentionally difficult, but then she becomes confused as to which one she meant. There are so many Noras, seeming to blend together with her or with each other, at other times becoming seperate yet many. It gives her a headache, reminding her she needs to rest. At least she remembers she has her notepad beside her, for when she needs the answers her brain cannot find.
She thinks she feels a tug on the line, but after a quick check, it's nothing. After heaving a sigh, she props her head on an arm and settles in to watch the wind-stirred water.
The small waves.. are moving too slow. Out of sync.. which means that the simulation (and stimulation) is changing timeflows again. The only reason to be speeding Tasha back up though is if someone else from the outside needed to talk to her..
The realization comes to Tasha as lazily as the water. She doesn't feel much excitement these days. Strong emotions seem as distant as the moutains that overlook the peace valley, but she reminds herself she should probably sit up and get ready; it's polite, after all.
"I'm here," she remarks, setting her fishing pole in to its holder after pull herself up. She folds her hands in her lap and waits patiently.
And sure enough, once everything seems to move properly again Tasha hears footsteps approaching from behind her. "Are they biting today?" Remiel asks. He's dressed for the occasion, wearing overalls and rubber boots, a plaid shirt and a floppy hat with a bunch of fish hooks poking through. He's got a pole, but no bait or buckets or beer of his own.
"Unfortunately not," Tasha answers in a tone of voice that suggests she doesn't much mind, or care. "I haven't seen you ... " She glances at the man as he comes in to her field of vision, taking a moment as the gears of her brain work amdist the sludge they have become mired it. It takes her a second, but she smiles a little when she concludes, "Remiel? Remy."
"Both of us," Dr. Caravelli says. "It's easier for my projected half to link into here, but since we're next to each other it's.. well, we're both the same person at this moment." He sits down at the edge of the dock next to Tasha, and gestures to the bucket of beer and raises an eyebrow as if asking permission.
Tasha stares at the man for a long moment at the explaination, squinting, before she simply shakes her head and reaches in to the bucket. She hands the doctor one first, giving him a bit of a suspicious look as she does, before fetching herself one.
After popping the top and taking a swig, Remiel makes a sour face. "Nora must have stocked this. I really don't understand that woman's taste in beer," he notes, then drinks some more anyway. "I wanted to see how you were doing, Tasha. I know being alone with your PersoCom is to help avoid any emotional issues or insecurities, but I still want to find out how you're actually feeling. Are you okay with talking for a bit?"
Tasha settles back, turning her gaze out across the lake and having a sip. "I don't mind," the woman answers a bit later.
"Well, first off.. have you been feeling lonely?" Remiel asks, looking at the water as well. "Are you getting enough personal stimulation?"
"I'm a bit bored, to be honest. The longer I'm here the less I feel like doing anything, though. Sometimes it's hard to remember what I was doing or supposed to do. Or should do. And, well, other things," the patient answers. She takes another sip, then shrugs as she puts the can down. "It's a little lonely, but talking to SAINA makes me tired. I don't want him to feel bad, though, but it's hard so I haven't tried to reach the others. I have these messages here, and my PersoCom tells me I've read them already, but ... " she shrugs again, " ... well, I'll get to them."
"Hmm, it sounds like you've been too emotionally isolated," Remiel suggests. "You need emotional context for certain brain functions, including memory. Have you been having any nightmares, hallucinations or.. fugues?" the doctor asks.
"Fugues?" Tasha asks bemusedly, looking over with her ears askew as she wonders if she ever knew the word.
"Well, it's sort of a state of intense focus without activity," Remiel explains. "Like.. staring at something and suddenly not remembering why or for how long, or basically just blanking out between A and B and running on autopilot."
"Oh, all the time," Tasha admits, gesturing out to the lake. "I have no idea how long I've been sitting here. As for hallucinations, none of this is real, is it?" The latter spoken in a tone of uncertainty.
"Reality is a bit of a vague concept in these circumstances," Remiel notes, then looks at Tasha. "But if you feel that it isn't real.. that could be affecting you as well. The progress you make is real, and you are real after all."
"Sometimes I wonder about that," the young woman says as she sits back again, looking out across the lake. "I thought I knew, but then I see my PersoCom and I remember I'm not really her. I mean, we don't look alike anymore and we don't completely act alike. Sometimes she acts more like Nora, and sometimes I do too. Then I remember there was something I was supposed to say to Nora, but it makes me think Nora isn't Nora and I'm Nora. There's a lot of Noras. And sometimes I can't remember which one I am. I mean we're alike, but also we're different. And I know I don't look like this," she waves a hand at her face, "anymore, and I think, that new face I have, that's my old face. No, that's not right. It's the face I should have had before I became Nora. The person I was supposed to be. But I'm Nora too. And then ... And then I don't really want to think about it anymore."
"Eventually, I plan to introduce the changes into your image here.. slowly, so they gradually come into play so you'll be ready when the time comes," Remiel notes. "You're still having identity issues it seems. But really, it doesn't matter what or who went into making you, Tasha. You're different from Nora, and even from your PersoCom, because you're a different person. Every day, you're changing. You might have a few shared traits, just like twins will, but you aren't the same people. You never were. You're you, and no matter what changes you go through.. you're still you. You aren't static, like a PersoCom."
"Oh," the young woman says with an air of understanding, her head bobbing. "I guess that makes sense. I feel like I've heard that before. Like I've said it before, a long time ago."
"It's easy to get distracted by metathinking when you've got nothing to focus on but yourself," Remiel notes. "So.. are you up to socializing a bit more yet?"
The young woman shrugs. "I don't mind. I'm not doing anything else."
"How long have you been managing to stay awake now?" Remiel asks, trying to gauge Tasha's energy level.
"I don't really know," the woman admits. She reaches over and picks up her beer, tipping it towards the skyline, "It all blurs together."
"Well, we'll see how you hold up then," Remiel says, and stands up. "At least we can get some better beer," he notes, and holds his hand out to Tasha.
"I kind of like it," Tasha admits. She takes the man's hand and stands up, taking her drink with her. "Where are we going?"
"Well, there's really just one social place in PersoCom space," Remiel notes. "I don't know if anyone will be there, though."
"Well it's worth a try. As nice as this place is, I feel like I'm never going to leave. It's hard to focus here, like I could have been here forever.
"Hold on.. let me see if I can do this.." Remiel says, and seems to concentrate. A moment later the pond is gone. Tasha is standing on an illuminated floor, surrounded by tables and stools that are lit with neon accents, before a wildly curving bar that's also got strange illumination. The wall behind it is full of bottles - thousands of them it seems, all glowing as well. The bartender looks very familiar. "Welcome to Mr. Koehler's Neighborhood," Saina says happily, bar towel in hand. "Is there anything I can get you?" There's music playing - something Tasha assumes is music anyway, as there is a lot of clashing industrial sounds mixed in with actual instruments. A flashing dancefloor has a few wildly dressed characters gyrating around as well, but they're likely part of the scenery.
Tasha flattens her ears against the sudden noise as she looks at her new surroundings. "This is a place people come to relax..?" She asks, sounding dubious.
"Well, no, they come to socialize," Remiel notes. "And by people.. well, PersoComs when linked to the Projections." To Saina, he asks, "Can you change the mood to something less.. harsh?"
"I think I'm hallucinating," Tasha admits in the background.
The Naga creature bobs its head happily, and does something behind the bar. The lighting and music change.. as well as everything else. Now everything is made of wood, there's sawdust on the floor, and dancers are wearing more casual, work-style clothes and doing what Tasha would think of as 'festival dancing' where they all follow certain patterns. The music is more twangy and jaunty though.
Tasha says, "The patient frowns a little, but her ears do go back up. "Am I supposed to like these things?" She asks, looking to the doctor for confirmation."
"I.. don't know," Remiel admits. "Fred has several presets, but if you describe what you'd like, I'm sure Saina can get close.."
Tasha thinks for a moment, then asks, "How about Melchior? I miss him."
"Oh wow, that will be interesting," Saina notes, and starts fiddling again. The room goes through various transformations, finally settling on something like a hangar. Melchior stands at the center, lit up by the stage lights in multiple colors, while the bar becomes something made of metal crates and armor plates. "How about this, Tasha?" Saina asks.
"That's fine," Tasha replies as she begins to drift towards her Titan.
As the woman gets closer, her expression changes steadily until her ears are askew and a frown crosses her face. There she stops, only a few feet away from the giantic machine, that confused expression on her face.
"Hmm," Remiel goes, standing behind Tasha. "You aren't feeling a connection, are you?" he asks. "Because it's just.. an image?"
"I feel like I can almost remember something, but when I try to remember, I can't reach it ..," the hybrid murmurs. She shakes her head, then steps forward to pull herself up on stage so she can get closer. After staring at the machine a little longer, she sits down by its foot, wrapping her arms around her knees and staring off in to space, her muzzle twisted in a look of concentration.
"Don't try to force things," Remiel says, sitting down next to her and looking up at the Gryphon. "What is Melchior's AI like?" he asks.
"He saved me," Tasha answers instead. She turns to watch the a doctor, then follows his gaze to look up again. "We were fighting and he saved me. I don't think he meant to. The stone, the stone didn't mean to. But he did. That's how I lost my face, and lost Balthasar." She tilts her head, then adds, "He's kind," she says belatedly, "Kind and ... stern. Sometimes I think he has a heart, but then I don't know. I want to believe he has a heart."
"He doesn't upset you though?" Remiel asks. "You're comfortable around him? Enjoy his company?"
"Yes," Tasha answers, a smile coming to her face, if a slight and distant one. "The cat is there now, though. He's clever. I don't trust him, but he's smart and sometimes he tells me things. I'm not sure I like him being there though."
"The cat?" Remiel asks, confused. "What cat is this?"
"The cat," the woman repeats. She even cups her hands over head head in immitation of cat ears. "Ser Herfel. Herfeeee-el. He built Melchior and met Apollyon. Khattan. Old Khattan. The ones who used to trade."
"You mean.. there's a PersoCom hidden inside Melchior?" Remiel asks in surprise.
Tasha smiles a bit more at the qustion. "That's right! That's what he is, I almost forget. He tells me things, but I'm not supposed to wake him. he thinks he's going to die, so he is." And then she frowns, looking worried. "I'm not going to die if I think I am, am I?"
"It doesn't work that way with living people, no," Remiel says with a chuckle. "I was just wondering if we shouldn't try to link you up with Melchior somehow. It would provide you the emotional connection you need, without the stress.."
"I'd like to see Melchior," the young woman insists, her tail beginning to wag.
"I'll talk to Fred about some sort of transceiver," Remiel promises. "It should be possible to connect to your implants, and use a high-bandwidth link to a similar device connected to Melchior."
"The foot," Tasha agrees, eaching over to pat the machine's leg where the ground line connectors are.
"I imagine the device will need to connect in the cockpit," Remiel notes, but looks at the foot anyway. "Is there a secondary interface connector on the outside?"
"The reactor and diagnostic connectors are located in the foot. That's where I connected them when we first met," the woman explains.
"I'm not a tech, so.. Fred should know more," Remiel admits. "How are you feeling now?"
"Okay," says the cadet, who seems preoccupied with looking at all the additions to the virtual space.
There aren't a lot of additions, since Saina probably doesn't have a real grasp of design like Nora or Fred do. The walls of the hangar are generic gray metal with rivets. The floor isn't much different. There are still tables and chair, but they're more utilitarian - like what one would find in the Tartarus cafeteria. There are still a lot of bottles, but they're on makeshift, unilluminated shelves now. Saina looks the same; spotty-scale but with a collar and bowtie for some reason.
"You seem to be.. are you tired, Tasha?" Remiel asks.
Eventually the woman seems to grow bored of the surroundings, shifting to settle her back against the machine. "A little. I like it here though," she answers.
"Hold on then," Remiel says, and goes to drag one of the few couches over to the stage. "Here, you can sleep on this if it's comfortable enough."
Tasha looks to the couch, then to Melchior and back again uncertainly, then seems to think better of it and climbs on.
"Did you want to sleep on the Gryphon?" Remiel asks, watching the hesitation.
"Can I?" The woman asks, ears perking up.
"I don't know how comfortable it will be, but.. where would you want to be?" Remiel asks.
"The cockpit," Tasha answers with a grin, leaning forward.
"Can you do that, Saina?" Remiel asks. The robot-avatar flicks its tongue, and replies, "I need to access memory from PC Tasha for that. Do I have permission?"
When everyone looks at her, Tasha looks momentarily confused as she looks behind her, then lays a hand on her chest to indicate herself. "Oh I thought you meant Nora," she explains for some reason, then throws a thumbs up. "Hokay!"
Nurse Tasha appears, and goes to talk to Saina. After about a minute of this, Saina nods to Tasha and Remiel. "I have the cockpit modeled."
Original Tasha waves to PersoCom Tasha while this is happening, asiding to Eli that she, "didn't know she could be a nurse," before SAINA addresses her.
"Good," she tells the snake. "Abaddon is dead so it's okay."
"I'm sorry about Abaddon," Tasha then tells Remiel. "He made me mad so I killed him. I should have listened more, but all he said was hate!"
"I've never killed anyone before. But then I killed Balthasar and Abaddon," she continues, eyes wide. "Balthasar trusted me! And I killed him. But it made him a hero. Abaddon wanted me. Gabriel wants me too, but I make him sad. People want me and I lie to them. I brought them Balthasar, but the cat was afraid. I almost killed everyone. Everyone. He wanted em to kill everyone, but I said no. But they didn't want me to kill everyone, and but I said yes."
"Not all AIs are flexible," Remiel says, and hugs Tasha as she seems to go into panic-guilt-babble-mode. "It's okay, Tasha."
"Is it?" Tasha asks, sounding strained as she holds on to Remiel. "Is it okay? They're not mad at me are they? I ... I didn't want them to be mad. I wanted everyone to be happy, but if everyone's happy then some people are mad. Or sad and ... and I don't know. I don't know. I tried!"
"You can't please everyone all the time, Tasha," Remiel says. "And sometimes the right thing to do is not the thing that makes everyone happy."
The woman makes an unhappy sound, a whine laced with frusteration. Her grip has become uncomfortably tight as the silence grows long, then she whispers that her, "head hurts."
"Alright, time to rest then. Can you fly up to the cockpit or do you need a lift?" Remiel asks.
Tasha doesn't answer, but she does at least let go. She removes her hands carefully, as if afraid she might drift away. One step after another she backs up, teeth gritted as she raises her head. With a rush of wings, she leaps in to the sky and lands atop the machine, hurrying inside.
The cockpit matches her memories, but of course the connection arm remains docile when she sits in the pilot couch. But it still provides a sense of protection, like an odd womb.
Breathing heavily to the point she would be hyperventilating if not for being in a simulation, Tasha gingerly makes her way to the cockpit seat before, hesitating momentarily, she rushes to have a seat.
Clicthing the side of her chair, the woman breathes as the memories come back. Blood and fire and metal, yet there in the middle is Melchior. Melchior, there to save her from the end of everything. There to save her from being consumed. And in return, her face.
Slowly Tasha's breathing begins to slow until at last she's breathing normally, feeling tired as if she had aged a lifetime with the return of her memories. Her head lolls forward; she fights to keep it up but it's no use. She remembers a stillness. The quiet, once everything had settled. Once she had finished fighting. She exhales as the stress leaves her with a memory, fading to black along with everything else.
When next Tasha wakes up, she's in a very different place. A winding, steep-walled canyon rises up around her, while she finds herself naked on the sandy shore of a river at the bottom. The sun is just high enough to shine down and warm her up.
Her mind empty once more, the woman simply breathes in the smell of the ocean, exhaling with the tides. Like a new life, unable to remember her past or future. Simply being, here again in a new world. She lays amongst the sand smiling, untroubled for a time.
The sound of disturbed stand heralds the arrival of someone walking towards her. "How are you, Tasha?" asks the familiar, masculine voice of Melchior.
"Melchior," Tasha breathes. She curles her head under her arm, smiling up at him as she waggles the fingers of her other hand in greeting. "Come sit with me?"
The big black and gold Vartan sits on the sand next to Tasha. "I was worried about you," he says. "You were hurt badly."
"I'm okay now that you're here." The woman asks, sitting up so she can scootch over to rest her head against the avatar. "You'll save me, won't you?"
Melchior puts an arm around Tasha's shoulders, and says, "Of course I will. You are my partner."
Tasha smiles more at that, scooching closer and tucking her head under the avatar's arm. Her tail wags lazily, shifting the sand as she closes her eyes. "What should I do, Melchior? I don't know what to do anymore. Will you help me?"
"Yes, I will help you," Melchior says, giving Tasha a bit of a hug. "We will do great things together. We will grow and achieve our destinies."
"Destinies. Together," the woman agrees, smiling. "We'll always be together, won't we?"
"Yes, how can we not be?" Melchior says, and turns to give Tasha a beaky kiss on the cheek. "I am your strength. You are my will."
The woman giggles when kissed, feigning to resist but then she falls back against the avatar and hugs him back. "I'm glad," she admits. "But I don't know how to be the will. I don't ... I can't remember. Do you know what we were supposed to do? I try to remember, but it hurts. And I'm so tired, some times."
"We are going to find the Progenitors," Melchior says.
"Were they lost? Abaddon said they were meddling, he was angry but I killed him. Are we supposed to kill them too? That's what he said," the woman asks, tilting her head and opening her eyes. "That doesn't sound right, doesn't it? Don't you know them? Can you ask them why?"
"Abaddon was our enemy," Melchior explains. "He wanted to use you to hurt others. We had to destroy him if we were to continue. The Progenitors let me rescue you, that is all I know of them. That is enough though."
"Is that it?" Tasha asks, peering up at the avatar's face from under his arm. "If you say so, then it must be true. We should thank them." She pats the avatar's side, then shifts so her head is on his leg, allowing her to look up as she rests in the sand. "Won't the world die now that we killed the world, though? And where do we look to find them?"
"We did not kill the world," Melchior says. "Just a small security subsystem, I am sure. We will find them in the Hall of Souls, on Arcadia - the Seventh Heaven. We have the Keys."
Tasha's ears go askew for a moment, a perplexed expression crossing her face for a moment until her eyes suddenly widen. "We do, I remember! It hurts, but I remember! I won't forget, for you, no matter how much it hurts. And for them too." She smiles again, looking pleased, then glances down the beach from her resting place on Melchior's leg. "Arcadia isn't around here, is it? Which way should we go?"
"I do not know yet," Melchior admits. "It is another world. We must find a means to reach it."
"You can't fly there?" Tasha asks, turnng to peer up at the avatar questioningly.
"No, I cannot fly through space," Melchior says, and ruffles up Tasha's hair a bit. "Are you disappointed?"
Tasha giggles all over again, even if she leans in to it. "No, I love you!" She insists, grabbing the hand and then holding it to her chest as she lays back. "I just remembered that you could. Like it happened a long time ago. We were fighting ... something. Abaddon! But it wasn't that Abaddon, it was ... someone else. And you had guns, and other things. But it had been a while, which is strange because why would I leave you? It ... Oh." She untangles a hand, then points in to the air where the Super Gryphon materializes, floating before her pointing finger and rotating slowly. "Don't you remember?"
"I do not recognize that configuration," Melchior notes. "Is it from a dream?"
"Um, maybe? I don't know, I thought it was real but maybe it's not? I don't really know anymore. Everything feels like it's real and a dream," the young woman admits. She glances at the display, muzzle twisting, then asks, "Is there something wrong with it? You're not mad, are you? I can do better."
"I cannot be mad with you," Melchior notes, but sounds concerned. "Your memories are muddled however. I do not know if this is part of your recovery process or not. Did you create a PersoCom before you were injured?"
"Yes, she visits me some times," the woman confirms. "Do you want to meet her?"
"I don't need to meet her," Melchior explains, "but she may have your earlier memories recorded, and can help you sort out which is true memory and which is fantasy."
"Can she? Well, if that's what you want me to do, I'll do that then. For you," the young woman agrees. Then she asks, "Would you like to fly in space? Maybe she can help with that too."
"You have a spaceship," Melchior reminds Tasha. "Bellerophon. You carried me in it before."
"I ... do," tasha says at length. "Bellerophon ... I think ... I think we're on it. No, in it. I'm ... I'm in a tube. This is ... it's ... ah ... " The woman winces, eyes closing, head shaking. "Nnng. I don't want to think about it anymore. Can't we just be here? Together? We never get to spend time together."
"Of course," Melchior says. Then he asks, "What do you want to do?"
"Hmm." Goes the woman as she holds on to the avatar's arm, peering up at the god-like perfectation of the Vartan form. A smile begins to creep across her face, her tail wagging slowly. "I remembered something we can do."
"What would that be?" Melchior asks, cocking his head in curiosity.
Tasha shifts her hand, entwining her fingers with the avatar's. "You love me, don't you? I never got to thank you for saving me, and I think I know how. Let me show you. Come here," she bids, leaning her her closer ...