The walls of Tasha's dorm room are covered in posters. Not of Katie Kaboom, or anything artistic, but with silhouettes of different canal monsters and combat vehicles. They could have all gone onto Tasha's tablet, but Captain Frane believed in 'immersive' memorization techniques.
At least it's a technique though. For the rest of her classes, Tasha has little idea of what to do. She records the lectures, but the knowledge doesn't appear to just sink in on its own. The lectures themselves are hard to pay attention to, since sitting in a room with a bunch of others while one person talks for an hour isn't like anything she's used to. Unlike everyone else, who spent their childhoods in similar formal learning situations.
That disadvantage causes Tasha frustration - along with not being able to ask for tutoring or extra help, or even ask for clarification in class without making her feel, well.. dumb. She's also realized that she's spending too much of her allowance on cigarettes, something she wouldn't have cared about if she hadn't started saving up for some dorm-brew booze if she can find any. There haven't been any parties she's heard of yet, only a few weeks in.
She's supposed to be reading, but that's something else she can't quite wrap her mind around. Her commanding officer, Gabriel, has always been quite fond of the pasttime, and she's taken to it now and then, but the hours upon hours of staring at unmoving, dry pages exceeded her interest long ago. Combined with feeling more out of place than usual on Abaddon, and the other problems, Tasha finds herself in low spirits with a serious doubt as to whether she can make it through her classes, let alone graduate.
Have I gone too far, this time? 'Red' wonders, the woman laying back amidste a city of books, notes, and other assorted collegic miscelleny. I might have reached my limit; this isn't what I was expecting at all. I don't know how these people do it. She sighs, rolling over and propping her head up as she stares out the window, her free hand fishing out her cigarettes and lighter. As she lights up, she stares out at the setting sun, wondering what Gabriel is doing right now.
Probably reading, she decides, frowning around her cigarette. It makes her think about what he told her, that he and Hake had been together while she slept, unconcious, in a glass tube, her body mending and her mind broken. She thinks about Hake, too, her friend she offended by taking Katherine up on her offer -- something she offended Gabriel with, too. It's no wonder they turned on me. It's not like I didn't deserve it. She frowns more, eying a book infront of her. They're a lot more like than Gabriel and I am. Melchior saw it, too. "Snore and can't cook." Is it him I'm mad at, or me?
Me ... She decides, closing her eyes and laying down. The guilt and the failure fall like a weight on her morale, crushing it. She shakes her head and reaches for her datapad, motivated to action by her despair.
"Tasha. Bellerophon -- Gabriel."
It takes a while for the connection to get through. Finally the screen opens a window with Gabriel's face. There's noise and movement in the background.. it sure looks like the PHTO Council cafeteria. "Tasha!" the wolf says, smiling. "I was going to call you later. Remiel is in town and wanted to check up on your health."
"Hey," Tasha greets the man in turn, talking around her cigarette until she can shift settle in and free an arm to take it. She uses the greeting popular amongst the harried, tired students, having asssimiliated it along with the other two aspects. "You're here? In The Pit?" She sounds surprised, eyes widening as she notices the background, the delay, perhaps, telling.
"I never left," Gabriel notes. "Fred is happy to have me out of his hair during the final refit anyway. How're you doing? You've met all the candidates there.. any impressions?"
"Oh, the canidates ... Um, they're, um, fine," Tasha replies slowly as her brain rebels against anything related to study. "They're all clearly talented, although there's something about the Eeee man that seemed a bit off; maybe he just doesn't like me? No reason not to bring him on, though. I spoke with them at length when I moved Melchior here, most seem pleased to join us and excited to do so." She then tilts her head to the side as she asks, "Hey, Gabriel, do you mind if I say some things?"
"Of course not, you called me after all," the Karnor points out. "I figured you'd want to say something!"
"Oh, right," Tasha murmurs, gaze trailing off as she needlessly starts sorting through lined up pencils. "Do ... Do you think our being together, I mean, um, relationship, do you think it's ... It's okay?"
"I wouldn't mind being together a bit more often," Gabriel admits, "but I'm used to being away on duty, really. Are you feeling lonely, or.. uh.. met someone closer to your own age?" The last bit comes with a slight tone of worry.
"Oh, um, no. I mean, I have, but, um, you met her. And she probably isn't interested in me anyway, I mean, why would she be? Except the secrets and robot, I mean. Um ... " Tasha's sorting finger pauses in its unnecessary task as she orders her thooughts, then she looks up. "I was just thinking, um, well ... Wouldn't you be happier with someone like, um, like ... Like Hake?"
"No," Gabriel says without hesitation. "She's a nice kid and all, but.. she's too.. caught up in her youth, I suppose?"
Tasha has to laugh at that, somewhere between genuinely amused and wry. "That's Hake," she agrees a moment later, a hint of a smile coming to her lips, both in the knowledge Gabriel hasn't abandoned her in his heart and thinking back to all the times Hakeber showed her less-than-mature side -- especially around men. "I think Hake's, um, 'caught-up-in-her-youth' attitude is part of what makes her Hakeber. Um, that is, part of the line that serperates her from who she used to be. I can't help but think, she never liked that person. A bit like me, really."
After pausing to exhale a cloud of rolling smoke, Tasha gestures with her cigarette, vaguely. "Ever since the accident, I've felt like the person I tried to become -- the mask I tried to wear, if you want to use 'metaphor' -- has been cracking. I don't feel faithful -- in any sense of the word -- and it's been harder and harder to keep together. Like here," she tilts the camera down at her work, a collection of Expedition grammatic reviews, history practice tests, and other scholatic challenges; most are unfinished, a few show low marks from grading. "It's awful, to be honest. I'm not doing well at all. It's not what I expected, and, um, I'm not sure ... I'm not sure I can win this one."
"Oh," she adds a second later, looking back at the camera. "I am glad to hear you haven't decided to abandon me for Hake. More than I can say; more than I sound like I am."
"I don't even know where she is right now," Gabriel notes, then looks a bit more somber. "I know it's hard, and some things you just can't jump into headfirst without preparation. Do you want come back to the Pit for a day? I'm sure you get one day off each week at least."
Tasha snorts, looking down at her work. "Well, it won't get any worse and I highly doubt a evening is going to change that, so ... " She suddenly sweeps her books and work clear with an arm before rising; behind her, Gabriel can make out scores of posters about monsters, fighting vehicles at odds with what her quarters look like back on the Bellerophon. "Learning can wait, here I come!"
Gabriel meets Tasha at the bottom of the Pit elevator near the dam, even though Tasha could just fly down to meet him. Next to the Karnor is a steam-driven motorcycle with a sidecar and overinflated tires for the rough terrain. "Hey! Ready for a ride?" he calls to the hybrid.
"Am I ever!" Tasha nearly skips over, flouncing in to the sidecar in a undignified fashion. "Reporting for duty sir, I have navigational command." Then she mock-salutes.
"Wow, I'm surprised you didn't want to drive," Gabriel admits with a laugh. He builds the pressure back up, then engages the engine and heads back towards Elamoore at speed. "Have you just been studying?" he calls over the sound of the bike.
"I'm not feeling competent enough to drive," Tasha admits, her left hoof dangling over the car's edge and her voice undiminished by college woes. "If you believe my tutor, driving requires I have an intimiate knowledge of history, physics, and, um, probably other things I have notes about somewhere." She rolls her head to look up at her mate, then kisses his leg since she can't reach this head. "You're my hero. You put up with me and my weird face, you enever give up on me, and you saved me from college! I'll have to make sure you get your reward later."
"Oooo, but.. well, Dr. Caravelli want's to check out your brain first," Gabriel notes. "I can check out the rest of you later though! First off though: what did you miss the most - besides me - while in the Citadel?"
"It's broken. Maybe dead? I don't need it anyway, it just gets me in trouble. As long as I'm sexy and can punch people, I'm sure everything will be fine. That's what the First Ones look for most," Tasha assures Gabriel as they motor along. Despite the noise, the woman looks increasingly relaxed, easing in as if she were on a comfortable sofa and not crammed in to a small side car. She eventually seems to remember she had questions put to her, and so answers belatedly, "Did we already mention you? Yes? Oh, then, I think I miss being part of the JEF. I realized, too late, that I've really just been on my own most of the time, trying to fight on and prove I'm not who I used to be -- maybe that I'm some sort of hero or savior or some other 'synonym' I need a 'thesaurus' for. Oh, that, um, and freedom. Oh and good food. Privacy too. Have I become haughty?"
"I can't even picture you being haughty," Gabriel claims. "You have to be at least thirty years older and thirty pounds heavier before you can try to pull that off. So things are very regimented in the Citadel I imagine? And what's this about privacy.. I thought you had your own room?"
"I do, it's just, it doesn't feel like it," the red woman explains, her right hand waving vaguely. "No drinking. No cursing. No smoking. Every hour of every day is decided months, maybe years in advance. Classes have programs that have been existant for years. We know what we'll be doing down to the hour. Even The Rake wasn't like that. We had scheduals like we do on Bellerophon, but it wasn't so ... So nitpicky. Oh, And Fran. Frane, teacher of Titan tactics and strategy, is always on my case." By this point it's clear enough to Gabriel that Tasha has absorbed collegia slang along with the exhaustion and despair; hey, case, and so on being distinctly Abaddonian casual language.
"Well, things don't change very quickly on Abaddon, I've found," Gabriel notes. "Aside from the not having to make any decisions about where you need to be at any given moment, is there anything else giving you trouble? Getting along with everyone? And I'm sure professor Frane has his reasons - especially since you have your own Titan.."
"You know what I really miss?" Tasha then asks, looking up and sounding serious. "Adventure. Challenges I can handle. I even miss fighting those 'daikaiju' -- at least I knew what to do and how to do it. It's simple: chop them up, make them a non-threat. Come home. But I've been thinking, maybe ... Maybe that's not even simple. I mean, maybe it's not simple for me. Not really. It's simple because I have Melchior, not because I'm a good pilot or any sort of real warrior," she snorts at the idea. "I'm just a pretender that uses technology and other people's expertise to be a hero. I can't even grasp the basics now that I'm dealing with them. The only thing I'm really good at is bringing people together, but lately I feel like I'm oushing them away."
"I'm still a fake, I'm just a well equipped and well supported fake with genuine -- at least, used to have -- people skills," she concludes, sounding despondent. "It's no wonder Frane and the bat -- what's his name -- don't like me. They can probably see right through me."
"You just have to develop the skills to match your capabilities," Gabriel says, turning to look at Tasha (which is rewarded by the big hitting a big bump). "Isn't that why you wanted this education?"
Tasha jostles, her hair landing in her face and quickly pushed aside. "The thing is, Gabe, um, I'm not sure I can do this," she admits as she holds her hare back and looks up. "I think my bravado doesn't match my ability. These people, they've spent their wholes lives learning these things. They know what to do, how to do it. And they struggle at this level. It's is hard for them. For me, well, it's looking impossible. By the time I catch up, I'll still be behind. Whatever changed in me, I'm still just a poverty-stricken girl who couldn't even read a year ago. If not for being handed the skill, I'd still be butchering Expedition and clueless."
"You've come a long way in a year, and a lot of that 'being handed education' came at the cost of trauma," Gabriel points out. The road smoothes out here, with the city wall coming up. "And most of the time, you didn't really seek it out either - you either needed it or where in a situation where you didn't have a lot of choice. And the rest.. well, you're young and take risks. There are tricks to studying and learning though. They'll help!"
"I don't know, can't I just have more trauma and necessity? I was getting good with those. I still have half a face to spare!" Tasha insists with a smile as she pulls her leg in and sits right, clearly drawning the line of impropriety at city exposure.
The bike makes its way through the city streets (which still haven't been completely adapted to motorized traffic) until they get to Council building. Another familiar figure is sitting on the steps, reading a newspaper and drinking from a large mug. Dr. Remiel Caravelli, millenias-old doctor (and part-time psychiatrist). He does lower his paper and lift his mug in greeting when the bike pulls up. "I need to return this to the motor pool," Gabe notes. "It's just a loaner after all."
"I'll keep Remiel company then, don't be too long, okay?" Tasha gives her mate a real kiss before hoping out of the sidecar and walking towards Remiel.
Arms out, Tasha greets the man with, "Doctor, my brain is filled with all sorts of horrible things like 'grammar' and 'history.' I think I'm going to die!" She smiles wide and cocks her head to the side, stopping. "Of boredom. Hi, Remy!"
The Karnor gets to his feet and gives Tasha a hug. "Have you been sleeping okay? Having any blackouts or dizzy spells or moments of sudden confusion?" he asks in a friendly manner. "Are your eyes adjusted?"
The hybrid woman hugs back, answering, "Maybe, no, and all the time now that I'm a student at the Knight's academy." She then blinks at him, clearly focusing on him before nodding. "Mostly. There's a bit of distortion when I wake up, but I assume that's normal?"
"Well, we can assume it's normal, since you're the first to deal with it," Remiel says, and rubs Tasha's head. "I want to plug your brain into a scanning device I've had made. Got a few minutes for that?"
"Hook my brain up to a mysterious device that I have absolutely no understanding of, to get equally incomprehensible -- but useful -- help and advice? How can I say no?" Tasha replies, following along once the Doctor begins to walk. "Do you have a machine that makes learning easier? Oh wait, we already have one. Why am I going to college again?"
"Actually, if you're having trouble focusing.. yes, it can," Caravelli notes. "That's one of the things I hope to test, along with getting a general look at your brain activity. The studs on the back of your head are the key - direct access without having to deal with electrodes!"
"I'd make an accessibility joke here, but it's no fun when Gabriel isn't here," Tasha notes as they step inside. "So, how have you been anyway? We don't see much of you. Well. We do, but I missed it being in the tank and such. You know what I mean."
"Let's just say I'm glad there are two of me," Remiel says, heading towards the familiar apartments wing of the building. "And that I'm the one who gets to spend time with Mage Neesa," he adds, before opening the door to Dr. Zerachiel's room, which is still full of equipment. The doctor himself is not present, however.
"Well I'm happy that you're happy. You know, I still worry about you," the young woman assures him as she steps inside. "I wanted to warn you ahead of time that, well, that there may be some friction between the Mages' Guild -- and perhaps Sinai at large -- and Abaddon at some point down the road. The nations are interested in magic, and, well, they're not going to wait for Sinai's approval to investigate it for themselves. I've already mentioned my personal approval of this, and it's likely the JEF will join suit. Hopefully it won't result in any problems -- I mean, this is another world with 'soverign' nations -- but, I don't know. The Guild has been around a long time, and everyone knows they don't like practitioners that aren't theirs. They keep magic to themselves. Maybe for the best? I don't know, but, I don't believe so." She pauses a moment, looking around. "Did you want me to sit anywhere in particular?"
"Someplace comfortable," Remiel says, and starts unpacking a box. "Actually, Neesa talked about that too. In reality.. well, the Mage's Guild can't do anything regarding Abaddon. They can barely spare the people they have for the camp here, and are spread far too thin even on Sinai. That's not to say they wouldn't take Abaddonian mage candidates for teaching - so long as their tuition was paid in full to avoid having to place them in the Guild. The Mages Guild used to be split up between several major cities, she tells me.. and only recently had to consolidate for safety."
"They moved to their own sky island or some-such," the hyrbid notes as she takes a seat on the edge of the bed. "There wasa lot of talk about it when it happened -- it was right after the Coalition War. I'm ashamed to say I didn't pay a lot of attention -- it didn't concern me, you know? -- but it was hard to miss the battered airships and wounded mages and soliders returning. Mom saw a lot of them back then, soldiers looking to spend their earnings, or escape the memories. We didn't get any mages, but we heard the stories of them fighting on the battlefields." She shakes out her hair, then tilts her head forward obidiently. "I'm hoping diversified research will open new paths to innovation for magic. Sinai is a nice world, but it's largely been in stasis since the Ark made planetfall. magic has a lot of potential and I'll be happy to see it grow, perhaps even become a greater force for society's welfare."
"Well.. there's always hope!" Remiel says, and Tasha feels something attach to the back of her head - specifically to the four protruding studs. There's a click, and beep, and then the doctor is back in front of Tasha holding his own datapad. "Okay.. amplifier running.. and there they are!" He flips the pad around so Tasha can see.. several rows of squiggly lines that move incrementally from right to left.
"That is exactly how I pictured my brain functioning," Tasha lies, grinning. "So what does it mean? Please say there won't be a quiz or anything."
"Well, these are the different sort of brainwaves you're generating right now," Remiel explains. "See this lower set, the Delta? It's pretty flat because you're awake, which is good. Your Alpha is up a bit because you're relaxed and engaged. Gamma could be better, Beta is normal.. How've you been handling your study load at school?"
"Terribly," Tasha answers, honestly. She nearly runs her hand back through her hair, but stops just in time and gives her hand a wry smirk. "College isn't what I was expecting. I'm not sure what I was expecting, but definitely not what I'm dealing with. Maybe if I had been born here and knew the customs well, knew the education system well, it'd be easier, but, well, it's hard. I really don't know if I'm going to succeed this time."
"So, would you say you're being hindered by the distractions of uncertainty?" Remiel asks. "Wondering if you're doing things correctly, and so not doing them very well as a result?"
"Well that, and, well, I think I'm just bad at it. There's so much ... So much sitting around! And talking! I like to talk, but the teachers talk on and on for hours. I don't know how they do it! But they do. About everything. In detail. Usually just once, or, they assume you know things I don't and, well ... Well it's just not going well," Tasha notes. She shakes her head -- albiet carefully and slightly -- and adds, "If I felt foreign here -- on Abaddon -- then in the college I feel alien. An outsider. A dumb outsider. I've been able to hide who I was and where I came from, because I never had to be under close scrutiny before. But there, it's like having a light shining on me all the time, revealing every crack and fault."
"Hmm, it sounds like you're thinking too much," Remiel diagnoses. "Thinking is not conducive to learning, you see. It gets in the way, sends your mind down odd paths instead of letting it focus. An unknown cultural reference can derail you because of that, when what you really want to do is set it aside and explore it later."
"Sounds complicated and like something I should have learned already. Is there a PersoCom learning set for these tools?" The woman asks as she peers at her readout. "Oh, and how's my brain?"
"Well, your brain isn't showing anything indicative of damage," Remiel notes. "Want to try and mess with it? It's easy, sort of like a game!"
"Oh, why not? I mean, it can't be worse that what I've already been doing to it." Tasha leans forward a bit, wiggling her fingers. "Oh, um, by the way ... Me and Melchior -- Melchior and I -- Um, about that ... "
"I can't read your brainwaves when you're connected to Melchior," Remiel notes. "But I can guess at what your brain would be displaying.."
Tasha shakes her head; again, carefully. "Oh, no, I mean, we ... When I was connected to the tube system we, um ... Well. We had a, um, relationship. I was wonder what you ... What you thought. Think. About that."
"Hmm? Oh, that's not too surprising," Remiel notes. "Some people can become addicted to that sort of thing, but I imagine Melchior's AI has safeguards against.. well, being perfect. My first 'girlfriend' was an AI. Far less interactive than your direct-to-brain interface at that."
"Really?" Tasha asks, ears perking. "An AI? I sometimes forget that the world you came from was so advanced; I still have a lot to see, don't I?" She smiles, though Remiel can see a hint of sadness in it. The smile lingers for a moment, then she frown in a way that seems happier than the smile. "Melchior told me my cooking was awful and I snore. Can you believe that? He's always 'I'm always here for you' 'we'll always be together' and now it's 'you snore.' I don't understand him some times, but, maybe you're right. Maybe he saw i was becoming too attached and stopped it, so, really, he was still looking out for me. Which is good, but, um, I was mad about it afterward. Well. Mad at me because of what he implied about my relationship ability. I should go apologize later."
"If only everything were easy right?" Remiel asks with a grin, and shows Tasha the pad again, with her brain activity scrolling by. "Ever heard of something called 'biofeedback', Tasha?"
"If only," Tasha agrees, smiling more happily this time. She then gives a slight shake and asks, "Is that like ... vomitting?"
"Not quite, no," Remiel chuckles. "It's not about eating at all, but about taking advantage of the lack of duality between mind and body. That is.. your mind and your body aren't separate things, no matter how much time you've spend in your head apparently disconnected from the rest of you. Your thoughts are physical processes, and you can see the evidence of them here on the screen." He taps the Alpha row. "But, because you can see the results.. you can change them too."
"This seems to me like the basis for how the mind-computer interface systems work. Knowing this, you could read the output, and in reading it turn it in to a signal that a machine could read -- or even a greater system like the Sifran reality warping technology," Tasha observes, head tilting carefully. "And so ... The body is the mind, the mind is the waves, the mind percieves the waves, the waves see themselves, the waves change themselves, and the being changes with them?"
"That's overthinking it a bit," Remiel notes. "These waves are the different frequencies of electrical activity in your brain, which reflect the state of your thought processes and 'modes' of thinking." Tapping on the Alpha again, he explains, "Like this wave, Alpha. It correlates with a state best described as.. relaxed alertness. The more dominant this wave is, the more perceptive and focused you are." Tapping on Theta, he notes, "This is similar, but more associated with deeper states of contemplation and reflection, and things like lucid dreaming or mystical experiences - when you meditate, these are the waves that dominate."
"Both together allow for a much greater ability to recognize patterns and themes, even very large ones," Remiel says. "They also allow great focus as a result, where distractions and stray thoughts are just.. set aside for the time being."
"I'm overthinking or underthinking; you know I never do things lightly." The hybrid winks, settling to listen in to the rest, eyes widening at the explaination of meditation and its effect on brian patterning. "That /is/ interesting,/ she concludes, head bobblng a little. "Not just because of its use in learning, but, well, my meditation has a genuinely 'mystical' aspect. I can, well, attune to my own spirit and speak with it. It's aware, in its own way. /That/ is the real nature of the advice giving other-self in my mind. We used to think it was my firewall, but I have confirmed otherwise. This might be useful to reach it, too."
"Well, now's your chance," Remiel says, and points to Alpha again. "Make this frequency more active. Relaxation and focus. Being able to see the results makes it go much faster."
"I've been thinking about specializing in magico-technologic interface and research as a possible specialty, education wise," Tasha notes as she stares at the specified line. "It's a new field, so the entry requirement would be much less and it's something I have experience with. Anyway, I'll be quiet to concentrate."
True to her word, Tasha stares at the line in silence as she focuses. At first she just tries to figure out what, if anything, effects the line's movement. Once she has some methods, she tries to influence the line in different ways, ultimately turning to moving it as a whole. Her experience with meditation helps, as she can recall that mindset and finds it provides some of the 'keys' to influence her wave patterns.
With a bit of practice, she can get the line to do what she wants! "Okay, this is good," Remiel notes. "You want to be able to slip into this state of perception at will, which should help with the lectures. Have you been recording them all as well?"
"Oh I record all of them," Tasha replies as she concentrates, anxiously wondering what might pop up if she continues to emphasize her meditative state while fully coherent. "It's just they're so long."
"You should try going into a full meditative state.. and listen to them again," Remiel suggests. "May two in a row, from the same course. It may help get a better grasp on what's being taught, and open you up to more 'aha' moments."
"Hmm, a full meditative state ... " Tasha murmurs as her line slowly shifts more and more. Deciding she'd better get the hang of it now while she still has Remiel's help, she presses on towards the full state.
That means balancing Alpha and Theta. As she tries, gradually the rest of the room seems to just.. well, not fade away, as she's still aware of it, it just doesn't matter. It's background, and the tablet is the foreground. The wavy lines seem to have a rhythm now, like her heartbeat, her breathing.. all of them seem connected.
Her thoughts go with the room, the chaotic noise of her mind settling in to steady, clear line while everything that isn't important to reaching the meditative state slowly draws away. This trend continues as she stares, the line growing ever more sharp, while everything else drifts farther and farther away; less important, less substantial.
There's something behind the lines. The waves line up, and.. sing? It's Tasha's own voice, but also maybe Nora's.. and a bit of Katherine as well. Actually quite a lot, since she's the only one who can actually sing. "Angels and demons were circling above me through the thorns to the stars. The only one who doesn't know happiness is the one who couldn't understand its call.."
Tasha's mouth moves along with the singing; it's her singing, after all. It feels right to the woman as she draws ever closer to the perfect line; the deep meditation, and maybe past that. Deeper. Herp lips move and repeat the lines silently, even as she strains to hear them. Strains, to bring them closer -- or is it her that is getting close? She strains to see that something, lurking behind the lines and deeper, down.
"I am calling, calling now," she sings, hearing the other voices follow. "Spirits rise and falling, to stay myself longer.. Calling, calling, in the depth of longing, to stay myself longer.." Is there something out there, something else? It's outside the moment though, external to the line.
Unable to find the path to the 'other,' Tasha lingers where she is, listening and feeling for a way to bridge the gap. The voice, the something feels like it's calling to her, calling from inside and outside at the same time, like it's always been there, on the edge of her meditation. She feels like she's heard it before, the voice. In her dreams -- or were they just dreams? The lack of answer beckons her further.
"Stand alone.. Where was life when it had a meaning.." she continues to hear and sing, this time her own voice seeming to dominate. "Stand alone.. Nothing's real anymore and.." Her voice fades, as Nora's rises up, a strong Delta line, "..Endless run.. While I'm alive, I can try not to fall while flying, not to forget how to dream.. how to love.. Endless run.."
All three together again sing, "Calling, calling, for the place of knowing. There's more than what can be linked. Calling, Calling, never will I look away.. for what life has left for me. Yearning, yearning, for what's left of loving.."
Finally, in her own voice alone, Tasha sings, "To stay myself longer.." Then the External intrudes again, and it has a voice. "Tasha? Can you hear me Tasha?" the man asks.
The distraction feels like a blasphemy, a pinhole of light ruining a perfect dark. She tries to align the waves against it, draw it back away, pull it in to the fog and away from her perfect line. Her harmony, and an answer she never knew she wanted to know. She strains to hear, even if she isn't listening.
"Calling, calling now, spirits rise and falling," she hears. "To stay myself longer.. Calling, calling, in the depth of longing.. To stay myself longer.." It just seems to repeat now, following the waves. "Tasha? Your Delta's are spiking - I think you've hypnotized yourself. Do you hear me at all?" Remiel asks.
Having found them, but not answers, Tasha lings on the waves. She floats, like a castaway adrift on a still ocean, her face upturned towards a perfect black sky that meets a still ocena, white, on a perfect line. The words echo in her head -- or are they repeating? -- but provide no answers, only riddles. She lingers like this for a while, perhaps minutes or longer -- she can't tell; tiem is meaningless in the world of the perfect lines. Yet, as no answer is forthcoming, and as the intrusions increase, it becomes harder and harder for her to maintain focus -- for her to keep the line. The lack of answer pulls at her mind, demanding consideration and thought and a static of increasingly scattershot interpretations and ideas. Soon focus becomes unmanigablem, broken by one last external intrustion. She finds herself in a room, staring at a datapad.
"What does it mean, Nora?" She asks, eyes widening. "What does the music mean ..?"
"Was that something you learned in choir?" Remiel asks softly, unsure if Tasha is really 'awake' yet or not.
"Huh?" Goes Tasha, who looks up at Remiel like she had never seen him before. She blinks, then asks, "Remiel? What are you ..?" Another blink, a frown, then she shakes her head. Wait, no ... I remember now. I'm ... here. And she is ... I don't know where she is. I thought I heard her, though. Did you ... Did you hear it?"
"You were singing," Remiel says. "About trying to.. hold on to yourself? That's what it sounded like. And seeking out the Seventh Heaven maybe, while.. uh.. saying that you can't know what it is? Not everything is linked.. or.. knowable? It sounded nice though, your voice that is."
"I assumed that 'spirits rise and falling' was about the waveforms on the tablet.." the doctor adds.
"Did it..?" Tasha asks, now looking bewildered. "I don't know the song, but I heard it. I'm sure I've never heard that song before, but it feels familiar. It feels like singing I've heard before, such as in the dream of the Empress or, um, another dream. Earlier, than the other one. They always seem like they're commenting on something, or, trying to tell me something. I don't know if it's my spirit speaking, or ... something else. Someone else. Someone ... " Tasha brows furrows and her frowns deepens. "Someone. Is she calling out to me? You mentioned the Seventh Heaven, did I say something about that?"
"Not specifically, just uh.." Remiel closes his eyes, and recites, "Calling, calling.. for the place of knowing? I'm not sure if that's the Knight's college or something else. And.. well, there was one thing in there that I found very familiar, something Nora would say: I can try not to fall while flying. Her way of saying she'll always try to rise to the challenge."
"I suppose that does seem apropos of your current situation, too," Remiel notes.
"Nora is encouraging me," Tasha murmurs, head lowering. "She's telling me not to give up. She may even be asking for help. Help holding on. A reminder, for what I'm supposed to do -- and what happens if I give up." The red woman closes her eyes; she doesn't say what she thinks about her singing it, about the potential overlap and that it might ber her singing it. The part of her that is Nora. She's sure that it's encourging somehow, but the color of that encouragement feels like it could shift from white to black. And thought black is possible, she wants to believe the color is brighter. And there's more, too. "Not everything is knowable. I can't comprehend all that I will face. The First Ones are greater than we are, just as the Sifrans are greater than they. Their mysteries are beyond us, as is much of what lies between, above, and below. It's even true of school. I have to keep going. Unknowns can be a hurdle if I let them. I see, at least part of it."
"Keep flying, even if you don't know how," Remiel says, and chuckles. "Just don't look down."
"It is quite a drop, isn't it?" Tasha sucks in a breath, leaning back. "Alright, Nora. You win, I won't give up. I think I can pretend to be bigger than life until the end. If there's an end."
"Remy, did Gabriel tell you about the Markers?" Tasha then asks.
"The key to being bigger than life is take some time to let life fill up the extra space you've given it," the doctor remarks. "Want me to transfer this program to your tablet? You can keep the monitor cap.. it's not that big."
"And yes, I'm in the loop," Remiel notes. "I have to be to take care of you and have an inkling of what to watch for."
"Please. I thnk I'd like to listen more, some time." Tasha pulls the cap off, handing it over for packaging. "What's your opinion of me and the Markers?"
"Opinion?" Caravelli asks, as he touches the tablets together to transfer the program. "It's taken a heavy toll on you, physically and mentally. I want you to check in with me more often, because I worry. You're my patient."
"I appreciate that," Tasha replies, finally having leave to rub her head. "I won't say you're wrong, either. You'ld just see right through it anyway. Um, nearly dying took a lot out of me. Losing Balthasar, the stress making me turn to power, or love, or, really, whatever i could hold on to so I cou;d keep on going. I'm not proud of any of that. And, I've been thinking that I was too hard on myself over what happened, but, also, that Abadoon -- along with everything else he deserved -- also became a locus and outlet. I ruined him and Balthasar because they pushed me too far, and that worries me. I don't like it."
"Because of what you did, or because they gave you no choice?" Remiel asks.
Tasha pulls in a deep breath, exhaling a second later before adding, "He killed my faith, too, you know. I don't feel it anymore. I thought I could rekindle it; I tried, I sought advice. But in the end I realized it was gone. I can't lean on it any more. Maybe the tenants, yes, but the core ... I don't know. Not now. Maybe some day." She pauses to collect her thoughts to answer the question, muzzle pursing until she says, "I feel that I went too far. Though, I did remember more about it. I remembered that, along with the rage, I was also desperate. I felt the clock ticking, winding down to nothing. I had to destroy him, even if it killed me. I had already tried to die with the machine. One of us had to fall, and if it was me, no one would survive. Nothing would be left. I could not let that happen. But even so ... I don't know, now that i think about it. I did what needed to be done. I was grateful to be alive afterwards. But, it still feels wrong. Dirty."
"Was it the first time you'd killed.. well, something you felt was a person?" Remiel asks. "I know you've had a hard life, and one where you didn't put a lot of value on other people for much of the time, but.."
"You're not wrong about the lack of choice, either. That's a different part of it, but, um, important. Don't mention this to Gabriel, but, I've been, well, forced to do things. Before. Years ago. It happened a few times, um. Blackwings was one. But this was different. It wasn't just degrading, he ... he wanted to erase me. No, replace me. Replace me with a monster, overwrite my mind, turn me in to his Enyo. And he could. And that was bad enough, but also ... Also ... " Tasha shakes her head, biting her lip and wrapping her arms around her chest. It takes her a few second before she says, "I lost. In the end, I lost. I was only saved by a miracle. I should have lost. But I didn't. I was saved by a uncomprehensible event, maybe even a coincidence. The terror I brought to this world should have destroyed it; used me, to destroy it. But we're all still here like nothing happened. Like the world never came close to ending. Not just the world -- all these worlds. And them too. The First Ones. May
ybe more, in time. It's a heavy burden, you know, remy, to know that it was you. Almost you. And to know you lost, saved by a miracle."
"As for killing ... No. No, I never did. I hurt some people rather badly, blood and, um, a mess, a lot of blood. But no murder. My mother, that is, Desdemona, she and Captain Eyeshine never let me own a real weapon. They kept me from the people who would have wanted that of me, kept me from prostitution and, um, worse things. In the end, I killed the one I asked to trust me. The being I asked Queen jade-Eyes to give to me, to trust in me, and my faith in the use of power, and I wonder ... was I wrong? I don't want to believe it. I don't want Balthasar's blood on my hands. I don't want the broken dream we could have had," she then answers.
"Are you sure it was a miracle?" Remiel asks. "I've seen the report. There was a connection there all along between the Markers and Abaddon, from the looks of it. You were the one drawn into that connection. You didn't cause it, but you may have catalyzed it. But clearly - that confrontation was going to happen at some point. It'd been waiting for who knows how long, maybe millions of years. It wasn't your fault."
"Maybe not, but it's, um, hard. I came to this world to try to help it, help it become better. Use the technology I had to help others rather than to horde it selfishly. But for a moment, for a terrifying moment, I became the one who had moved all the right pieces together. The, um, parts. And I was one. For a moment, the world was saved only by the Marker. I couldn't do anything. Alone, I would have ... I would have been the cause of the end of the world. Millions, billions of lives, gone. All because I wanted to make the world better, to not turn away. And I wonder, was it worth what happened? Do I have any right to have endangered so many? When I failed to protect them? Am I just deluded?" Tasha takes another breath, her shoulders sinking. "But They came. They saved me. I don't know why, but I'm glad. Maybe they've been doing this sort of thing for thousands of years, or maybe this is the first. The uncertainty bothers me. I could excuse it normally, but, it's um, it's not easy to dismiss that kind
of guilt, and who do I talk to? Does anyone know what it feels like, to have nearly been the end of the world?"
"Sometimes.. you have to something dirty, now, to prevent something worse from happening in the future," Remiel says. "Have you asked yourself: what would have happened if Balthasar were never brought here?"
"By all rights, any nation would freely get rid of me rather than risking even the possibility of such a thing. I had such power! So much power, at one point. And only we know. I feel like I'm sneaking about, gambling with peoples' lives. Am I really worth that risk?" She pauses a moment, but answers more quickly than with the other questions. "I have. I asked that question when we took possesion of him. I asked: if not now, when? And I looked at history, and I knew, more likely than someone like me, someone who craved his power for their own selfish end would seek Him. Use him. I am no scholar, but I know Sinai's history is filled with tyrants and despots. It looks nice, but it is as war-torn as this place. Maybe worse. I didn't want to burden our children with the responsibility of Balthasar. It seemed like a dereliction of our duty as adults."
"So, if you hadn't brought Balthasar to Abaddon, he'd remain a potential threat on Sinai," Remiel says. "But here, he could be taken over by Abaddon - which, it turns out, was the only way to stop Abaddon, if the assertion that destroying Balthasar also destroyed Abaddon - or the dangerous part of him, anyway - then you could say that that was Balthasar's fate. All the power was never going to be used, because on Abaddon Balthasar was a honeypot. You never were going to be able to wield that power, Tasha. You never did, never had the option, for good or bad. Balthasar was doomed from the start, because this was his real purpose."
"I see what you're saying, that the situation happened as it did and so there was never any other way it could have been. Even, maybe, that I would have no cause to use such power anyway, as it was laregly combative and on the scale of the restricted weapons Fred showed us in the databases. It feels very reassuring to believe that, but it also feels like it's too easy. It feels like avoiding guilt by pointing out what you did had no material consequences, nor couldn't, but, is that really good enough? Is that responsible?" Tasha asks, ears perking.
"I'm saying that there may be more to the Magi than we think," Remiel notes. "They may have all had specific roles from the start, probably hidden in those poems you dug up. Caspar's role seemed to be to judge or select who would carry out the mission. Balthasar's could very well have always been to clear the path of adversaries. I mean - why refit a Titan with Sifran crystals? If you could access them, why bother with a Titan? And then.. to never use the new weapon. To hide it away until.. it's purpose was ready to be fulfilled? Without the pilot interface implants, could Balthasar actually have been used by anyone?"
"I know this this, though: the burden of a god, or, a demigod, whatever you chose to cal the First Ones, it must be heavy. Heavier than my own, probably by a great deal. They must be beings of tremendous fortitute. I've been at this a year; they have existed for millenia. Maybe that, too, was a lesson they wanted to convey. I don't know." Tasha pauses to take a breath, nodding slowly. "I've wondered that myself. There's no maker's mark, either -- no designer. They were constructed by AI at the behest of a man called Ser Herafiel, a Khattan and member of an occult group that worshipped the First Ones. It's only a guess, but I wonder if they constructed them at all. Modified, perhaps, but somewhere there are parts that do not belong. A frame or interface; something that is First One. Or, more darker ... " The woman bites her lip, ears canting back before she ventures, "They are the First Ones. What remains of them."
"It is said that the Markers belonged to the Archons. It was their way home, maybe more. That they no longer have them -- that they were left in the universe and that none of the Archons have been encountered -- suggests, perhaps, they are dead. Ser Herefiel specifically mentioned to Apollyon -- my forebearer and blood relative -- that he might replace Horus. And if I trust anything about Ser Herafield, it is that he is a cunning man," tasha adds.
"That would make the Titanians the galactic priesthood," Remiel suggests. "They almost certainly have First Ones technology from somewhere, likely their homeworld. You've seen what they have first hand. I'd hate to suggest it, but maybe they might know something.."
"And didn't Caspar claim to be a First One, essentially?" the doctor asks.
"Ser Herafiel and others confirmed that the Titanians are related to the Vartans, whcih would mean both were possibly ceated by someone. I've seen the picture of the Origin Marker of Titanians, so their connection to the First Ones is likely. That would mean Vartans, Titanians and others are created or modified by them, perhaps with some special purpose. As for the Titanians technology, I agree. I've seen what they use and I know stators are a restricted technology -- but they appear capable of making them from scratch, as well as even less comprehensible wonders. It's just that their simplicity makes understanding them difficult. I've tried. Not hard, but I did. Maybe I need to get closer." tasha tilts her head, clearly thinking. "Maybe I've been going about my education the wrong way."
"You always did seem to be a hands-on learner," Remiel points out. "There's something that's been.. gnawing at me though. One thing I never thought to find out, so I'll ask it now: how'd you end up in Amazonia in the first place? I know about visiting the temple and being sent up to the Gash.. but not what happened before that."
"He certainly claimed to be godlike, a god. Not a specific god, but a god. And who am I to question it? In scope and power, he was godlike in many ways, if not in all ways. Piloting him made me feel like I was sitting on the throne of a god, all while that god watched me from an unknowable place, judging me. Looking down on me. not angry, but, tolerant. Judging. I was the pilot, yes, but I was ... I was borrowing power and the tolerance of a entity with some shred of divinity. It was simultaneously the most powerful I have ever felt, and the most disturbed. I ws aware of everything I did. Everything. I was minding my manners, that i not be found unworthy," she answers.
"But it's strange ... His personality shifted as he, um, woke up, for lack fo a better term. I don't know if this was because of Abaddon's intrusion or what, but he went from aloof and judging to assisting, even eager to seek the First Ones -- even jealous. He wanted me to himself, as Melchior does. As Abaddon did. It was very strange," she adds a second later.
Tasha's silence is long this time, noticably long. It's a heavy silence, one punctuated by the way she, too, eyes Remiel with a judging air. She seems to fnd him worthy, because she answers, "Gabriel isn't to know about this. Never. The rest I don't mind, not really, but this ... No. No, if he's to know, I'll tell him myself. Someday. Maybe." She pauses again, though it's clear from her twisted muzzle she's thinking rather than weighing. At length, she says, "God sent me, guiding me from within myself and in my dreams, hoping that I would answer a prayer. You're a very intelligent man, Remy. Maybe ... Maybe you've guessed by now, if you're asking me directly? My creator ... God."
"Well, those machines needed their pilots in order to act," Remiel says. "Like the three blind witches with one eye to share between them - of course the two who didn't have it would covet their turn. God you say? I thought you followed a princess. Is this a specific god?"
"It's not a coincidence. None of it is," Tasha adds, as fact and hint. "Yes, specific. Closer than you might think."
"You'll have to be more direct with me, I'm afraid," Remiel notes. "I've never met a god, and there seem to be so many in these worlds."
"Hmm," goes Tasha, leaning closer. "Who do you see, when you look at me?"
"Well, a young Karnor.. and a young Vartan, of course," Remiel notes, then looks serious. "Or are you asking who you remind me of?"
"That's right, you see it don't you? What would make the whole thing make sense?" Tasha asks, head hovering inches from Remiel's.
"I know for a fact that you don't have any of Nora's DNA," Remiel says. "Because Nora didn't have children. So what else beyond coincidence is there?"
"I can try not to fall while flying," Tasha repeats. "Not everyone of us is flesh and bone. Not everyone lived, but some of us survived."
"I am, after all, the product of magic," the red woman adds.
"Nora's spirit, you mean?" Remiel asks.
"That's right," Tasha says, leaning back. "Nora's spirit is why I exist. I have been keeping her secret, but we both know you're too clever to miss the signs forever. Not with a mage as a girlfriend." Scratching her head, Tasha glances towards the window as she explains, "I'm, well, I'm the third Nora. The original of course, and then there's the spirit. The second Nora, or maybe still the first? My creator -- Nora, who is now Tisiphone, Goddess of Vengeance. She had spent six thousand years trying to solve the riddle of the Fenris. She never gave up, even in death. I'm sure she tried many answers, and in the end, she tried me -- and you know the rest. Our Nora is actually the fourth, after me. She knows. She needed to. We are all Nora, after all, even if we're also someone else."
"You're all different though," Remiel says. "With a few commonalities. And here I thought I owed my life to you thinking a bloodthirsty bunny princess had a cute butt."
"Oh," Tasha adds, glancing back, "This probably helps to explain some other things, doesn't it? Why I obsess over Nora -- and why I hear her, some times. I'm still connected to her, literally in spirit." She then smiles, head cocking the other way. "Oh you still owe me! It was never sure. I'm not a robot or a remote controlled biomechanical drone. I might be some sort of clone, but I'm probably even less accurate than our Bellerophon clones. There was always the possibility I would chose not to save you, or, well, never visit Amazonia."
"To be honest, I had no idea until only recently. Nora isn't the type of person to ask for help, so even creating a free-willed duplicate probably strained her sense of independence. She provided the lure, but I had to take the bait. Chose the bait. I'm still not quite sure what to make of it all. I know I chose, and I am honored to be Nora's descendant and, well, her hand in the world, if she needs me further. She never revealed herself until I returned, nor did she react much to learning the Fenris was free. I can't help but thinks he must be fading, a possibility that's hard to bear, and, well, it's agonizing. I love Gabriel, but I love Nora more. It is for this reason cheating on Gabriel becamse easier. I had always intended to leave the stage, should I ever succeed in ressurecting my creator," the red woman continues.
"Hmm, there's a school of thought that says free will is an illusion you know," Remiel notes. "It's because of brain scans, you see. We know that the subconscious parts of the brain sort of.. prime things when a decision is going to be made. Actually chooses the answer before the conscious mind actually 'thinks' it makes the decision. It's only really provable for small decisions though, since you can't have a scanner going all the time while controlling the choices. I'm pretty sure we have free will though.. but if you really are carrying a bit of Nora in your subconscious, then maybe she did prime your decision to go to Amazonia for you? Sorry, shouldn't be making you question things more than you already do! As for the first Nora spirit fading.. is that even possible? Spirits can vanish and reappear according to the Mages. They don't have to be 'active' continuously in order to 'exist', any more than we have to be conscious continuously to remain ourselves."
"Well, even if I'm Nora's puppet, I can at least say I'm proud to be her puppet. Nora was amazing; I've never been able to get over her death. I know why now, that I empathize with her death directly and indirectly. I was drawn to it to understand it and her, and I do, at least, to a degree. Though even if I am her puppet, she doesn't voice commands to me. She guides me subtly, if at all. She would never tell anyone she's suffering, nor burden them with her problems. Even if we're connected or even one controlling another, she did not confide openly to me. Even so, I take fulfilling Nora's unspoken wishes to be one of the great missions given to me, along with the Markers and the JEF. I built the JEF again to honor her sacrifice, and the sacrifice of others. To rebuilt what she lost -- and if I can, I will give her life and whatever else she asks of me, whether because she controls me, or, as I like to believe, because I love her," is Tasha's reply.
"No wonder you empathize with the Magi so much," Remiel says. "You're just like them, in a sense. It explains a lot. Although I was sorta happy with the bunny-butt theory too. Helped me to laugh at things."
"As I talk about this I realize something. I'm not perfectly comfortable with being a, well, clone. Or a puppet. Not because of anything to do with Nora, but because it reduces and calls in to question my individuality. It may that so long as Nora needs me, that I can never be truly free nor my own person. I don't mind that burden, but on some level that bothers me. That, too, may be Nora." Tasha then smiles, head tilting again. "Oh, you made that connection then? Yes, I'm a lot like the Magi. Even my name is like them: Winged Gift. It also means Winged Sacrifice -- just as they are. I should tell Melchior that some time, to see what he says. I'm sure he didn't expect to be piloted by someone just like he is. A lot of what I do revolves arond my relation and responsibility to Nora, but not all of it. I'm still Tasha most of the time; sometimes I even forget about Nora in the day-to-day living. I did think she was cute, and that was why I came. But maybe it was also more."
"Well, Nora wasn't after any Markers and such," Remiel says, then adds, "As far as I know, and I was her psychiatrist. But I can't imagine a Karnor Elite being part of some secret society thing. We were too new at the time. The others.. oh sure. Human history is full of them, and I'm sure the same is true of the Khattans and Silent-Ones and Imperials and Confederates. Speaking of Confederates.."
The doctor is interrupted as Gabriel enters and waves. "How'd the checkup go? Is she ship-shape?" he asks Remiel. "It's almost time to go.."
"Going somewhere?" Tasha asks from the bed, smiling as Gabriel enters.
"Your Confederate friend, Rapatia, bagged some monster that they call a hog on this world, but I've seen what they call bees and am withholding judgment," Gabriel explains. "But they're having a big cook out at the Confederate Embassy as a result and we're invited."
"Oh! Good! I can pass on my thanks to Rapatia for donating her DNA, I'm sure she'll have something funny to say about it, too. It's been soem time since I was in the Embassy, too." Pushing off, tasha rises to her feet and takes a moment to straighten her outfit, then her hair using a wall mlunted mirror. After a few minutes, she nods to Gabriel. "All set. We'll talk again some day soon, Remy?"
"I'm always available if you need to chat," Remiel says. "You're my patient after all, and your physical and mental well-being are my concern. Especially after whatever this ghastly alien monster meat is going to do to us."
"I suspect it will turn us blue. Or red, but really, I'm safe and frankly, for you two it'll be an improvement. But I'm biased," Tasha remarks with a wink. She then hooks her arm to Gabriel's and merrily walks out along side the two Karnor Elite.