Chief Security Officer Lun watched
through the eyes of his mindless Vessel as Corporal Royce Dea walked into his
office. The office itself was small, the
walls grey and unadorned, his desk barely functional and more a matter of
formality than anything else.
Lun
gestured to the chair in front of the desk.
“Please sit.”
Corporal
Dea pulled the chair back and sat down.
Her lips were pressed together and eyes were focused on his, and he
noted her right knee was bobbing up and down gently – a gesture he understood
to be one of restrained energy among humans, and likely revealing some sort of
apprehension.
“Corporal
Dea, yesterday at 13:23 you were seen travelling through access corridor
fourteen on level seven, and were witnessed conversing with two Mauraug
civilian visitors, Mashaun Bash’Ugan and Hrokgi Bash’Shumal. Please enlighten me as to the nature of your
conversation.”
Dea’s
forhead wrinkled and she twisted her mouth to one side, then spoke, “They were
taunting me, sir. I was concerned that
they were planning some sort of physical violence and got away as quickly as I
could.”
“I
see.” Said Lun. He did not, of
course. Lun, like all Awakeners, considered
verbal language to be a series of dangerously inaccurate sonic symbols. These symbols, or “words”, were frustrating
in their inability to convey meaning, as each one had many associations that
changed based on context in relation to others, the Other Mind employing them,
and current events. Nevertheless, Lun
understood that idiomatic speech was comforting to those who had no better way
to communicate.
There
was an awkward silence. His threadlike
rhizomes, which emerged from his Vessel’s bodily orifices, writhed
impatiently. He decided to break the
silence. “Corporal Dea, this inquest
would be best served by your allowing me to interact with you on a psychic
level. Would you consent to sharing your
perspective directly with me?” He hoped
that this was phrased in an inoffensive fashion.
Dea
raised her eyebrows. “Chief, I would
really prefer that you didn't. I’ve done
it before, and it was really uncomfortable.”
Is this one hiding something, or is it truly
uncomfortable with the process? There is
no way to know! The frustration was endemic to relations with Other
Minds. The Other Minds rarely had any
skill at true communication and were often suspicious of it, forcing Awakeners
to navigate the treacherous waters of language and deal with the concept of
“trust”. Lun was aware of trust, but
like most of his kind had been rather appalled when he was first briefed on it.
Direct approaches are helpful in garnering
trust. Lun reminded himself.
“I am
questioning you on this occurrence because Detective Ushkar Bash’Torkul located
the body of Hrogki Bash’Shumal at 02:00 this morning. Attempts to find and locate Mashaun Bash’Ugan
have yielded no results. You are the last
person Hrogki Bash’Shumal was witnessed communicating with.”
Dea’s
eyes grew wide, a misplaced reaction based on an evolutionary path that
involved evading predators, still applied to moments of surprise, fear, or
shock. “Chief, may I ask who witnessed
us?”
“That
is not pertinent to this investigation.
Information that would lead me to an understanding of Hrogki’s
Bash’Shumal’s violent death is pertinent.
If you will not consent to direct communication, please convey any
pertinent information vocally.” Lun
immediately realized that he had slipped out of idiomatic speech, and his
rhizomes fell a little in despair.
Humans referred to that as being “cold”, an idiom that Lun certainly
comprehended. Cold forces one to
withdraw to warmth, and for warm blooded beings, that meant pulling inwards.
“Yesterday
was the first and last time I saw either of them. They saw me in the hallway, they threatened
me, and I got away as quickly as I could.
Can’t you, you know, still talk to Hrogki?”
“I…
the... resonance? Not... complete…” Lun
floundered, searching for appropriate terminology. In many cases it was possible for an Awakener
to gather information from the psychic resonance of the deceased for a short
time after their death. The language
being used had no symbols that properly conveyed the reason that that he had
been incapable of accomplishing this.
“That
was not possible this time. Why did they
threaten you, Officer Dea?”
Dea
swallowed sharply, another physical sign of emotional distress. Even without interfacing with her he felt
waves of uncertainty and fear rolling off of her. Good. He had found something important. She glanced back and forth and seemed to chew
the inside of her lips.
“Please
respond to my question vocally, Corporal.”
She
squared her shoulders, straightened her spine, and made direct eye
contact. Lun sensed certitude. “They claimed that their scanners showed that
I was bearing an unlicensed Mauraug implant, and they wanted to cut it out of
me, sir.”
“Are
you bearing any unlicensed Mauraug cybernetics?”
Her
gaze didn’t waver. “Yes.”
Lun was
genuinely surprised. It was not
something that he’d expected of her.
“Why? Have you allowed the
licensing to lapse, or was it implanted illegally?”
She
grew quiet again, and Lun’s rhizomes writhed in the dance of frustration
again. She looked down, staring at the
blank surface of his desk, and he received wave after wave of conflicted
emotions from her. She looked back up.
“All
right, Chief. You can read my mind.”
Lun
frowned, amused that he found himself mimicking her gestures with his Vessel. “Are you giving me consent to engage in true
communication with you?”
“Yes. I give you consent. Just read my mind and get it over with. It’s better this way.”
Chief
Security Officer Lun smiled warmly at her.
“Yes, yes, it will be. Thank you,
Corporal Dea.”
Lun’s
attention withdrew almost completely from the physical senses that his Vessel
gave him, and he followed the trails of emotion to their source. Royce Dea sparkled, scintillating, a
colorful, quick-acting sentience. Lun
pressed the surface of his ego against hers and the membranes that separated
one mind from another grew thin.
If Lun
used his Vessel to unconsciously express his emotional state like other
sentient species did, he would have sighed and sunk into his chair. This,
this is the reason that we are. This
union. This intimacy. This understanding. How can the Other Minds not feel the pleasure
of it? How can they not feel the joy of
communion as we do?
He could feel her struggling
unconsciously against his gentle pressure.
Even though she had given consent, it was difficult for her to truly
relax in the communion. He felt a pang
of sorrow for her, and resolved to speak to her about Awakening her once this
business was over. He deliberately
displayed the pleasure that he took in the act to her psychically, but was
confused when she reacted with disgust and distrust. How could you not trust someone who was so
completely connected to you? He despaired
of ever truly understanding the Other Minds.
He
could not allow his inborn urge to commune with and Awaken Other Minds to get
in the way of his duty to the Collective, though. He relented, and in a blissfully wordless
fashion, prompted her to reveal the information about the cybernetic implant. She brought it to the surface, and what he
witnessed was of such gravity that he quickly withdrew that line of inquiry and
pressed her gently on the two Mauraug.
Her words had not been inaccurate.
She had no association with them but the threatening conversation that
they had had. He empathized with the
fear and distress she had experienced and resonated with it, showing her a
mirror made of himself, displaying that he now truly understood how she had
felt. He transmitted his sorrow that she
had had to experience it, and withdrew from the communion, his questions
answered.
Corporal
Royce Dea drew a shuddering breath and opened her eyes. Though they were no longer in communion, he
still felt her emotions more keenly than before. Surprise, relief, and a small touch of
pleasure – quickly replaced with vindication and anger. His rhizomes curled back on themselves and
nearly withdrew into his Vessel’s eyes, ears, nose and mouth at the shocking
intensity.
“That
little shit.” Dea said. “That little Ningyo pissant. I’ll wring his mechanical neck.”
It took
a moment for Lun to digest what she was trying to convey. She had obviously been probing him back
surreptitiously during the communion. How could she do that, unAwakened as she
was? The Ningyo that called himself
Tacky had indeed been the one to report her conversation to him.
“You
will do no such thing, Corporal. He has
been most helpful in this investigation, and that would be a violation of the
law that you have sworn to uphold.” Law.
Such an inadequate method for preventing unnecessary conflict. Still, it’s the best the poor creatures
have. For now.
“Yes,
Chief. You’re right. I won’t.
But I will be giving him a piece of my mind. Am I excused?”
Chief
Security Officer Lun nodded silently as she rose and took her leave,
considering the implications behind her most recent idiom.
This was the first example of solid 'alienness' in this story. Just like fantasy has to avoid making their elves 'humans with pointy ears', the Awakeners have to be more than just 'people with fungus in their heads'. Science fiction aliens run a gamut from almost-like-us to no-clue-that-was-alive, but it's harder to draw the line for something that looks human, but thinks different. You have to go inside its head (in a non-psychic way). Even then, for the reader's benefit, you have to spell out its thoughts in a 'human' language. Surely it's not thinking in English (or Galactic Common), but you hope the reader understands that you're translating from mentalese to something they can comprehend. But if they can comprehend it, maybe it's not alien enough yet? I have sympathy for writers that just dodge the question by making one-dimensional theme aliens. "They're alien because they're always angry. Always. Just assume that they're yelling in their own heads and frowning means they're happy." Anyway, the Awakeners are fungus that wear people as suits. Their humanness makes some sense, in the same way wearing a police uniform might make you feel like an authority figure. Hopefully, you, the reader, remember that they're fungus. Among us.
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