Omphalos

by Harper J. Cole

  “That sounds kinda dicey.”

  “I suppose it does, but I was desperate, and acting emotionally. We started the procedure, and I was quickly able to gain Koli’s stability and rationality. But she had an ulterior motive, of course. She wanted to imprint her desire for victory over the Mono-slugs into me – changing my mind, quite literally.

  “It didn’t work; my intellect was too strong for her to influence. I became more rational, but only because I wanted to. Even better, I was able to turn the situation around on Koli. I influenced her. During our sessions, I focussed on my desire to return home, until it became her desire. Then I told her about how my goggles could be used to signal the Bona Dea. She was the one who contacted you, while deluding herself that it was purely her own idea.”

  “Okay,” said Annie, but she seemed perturbed as she stripped off the last of her clothing and placed it in the tube. “So, how long does this imprinting thing last before you’re back to normal?”

  “Oh, it won’t wear off. Koli told me that we needed to keep having sessions, but that was a lie. I hadn’t agreed to help them yet, so she thought she needed to keep trying. In reality, this is the natural way for my brain to be. The old me is dead, long live the new one. I’m sure that Koli would soon have admitted as much. You actually interrupted us just as I was agreeing to join their war effort.”

  “What? You were gonna help them? You said the Imprinter never worked on you.”

  “Yes, that’s the irony. All Koli and Ayakopi ever had to do was make me think rationally. Once my mind was clear, I could evaluate the situation properly. I realised that Monosade is a corrupt society, diseased, sick to their very hearts. They had to be stopped, and I could stop them. Unfortunately, it looks like it’s going to be peace instead. Anasade will regret that, in the long run.”

  “Prepare for decon shower,” said Iris.

  Annie seemed glad of the interruption. She took a few paces away from Gypsy, and the shower commenced, bursts of cloudy white spray playing over their bodies.

  Because it was something she’d wanted to do for a while, and because the technician was looking away from her and couldn’t be offended, Gypsy took the opportunity to study Annie’s naked body. Several previously-unimagined flaws became apparent. Gypsy had been aware that Annie’s face boasted a higher concentration of freckles than would be considered conventionally attractive, but not that the skin on her shoulders had been left pocked and pitted by severe acne, nor that her buttocks were small and flat, nor that her breasts sagged far more than one would expect of a woman still two years short of her thirtieth birthday. When she leant forward to scratch at her leg, two roles of fat formed about her belly.

  Average at best, concluded Gypsy, feeling neither disgust nor arousal. By any objective measure, I’m actually more attractive than she is, and that despite being two thousand seven hundred and fourteen days her elder. Yet I loved and lusted for her all those years. Why?

  Well, I suppose I know the answer to that. Her confidence captivated me, because I had none. Now that I’m cured, I see the reality behind the aura. Just another woman.

  One of life’s little ironies. I could easily say ‘I love you’ to her now. But it wouldn’t be true.

  The shower concluded, and Iris informed them that they were clear to enter.

  “A question,” said Gypsy, causing Annie to jump slightly.

  “Uh, yeah?”

  “Back there, Hunter implied that things haven’t been going very well for us lately. She also mentioned on the way up here that she herself would be piloting the ship on the outward journey, but she’s not a fully-qualified pilot, as far as I know. Has something major happened while I’ve been away?”

  Annie grimaced. “Mm-hm. Guess I’d better fill you in on that.” Donning white robes, they sat in Medical while the technician gave a somewhat faltering account of the troubles with Rivers and Ricardo. She was interrupted halfway through by the Bona Dea taking off from Chopiko moon and regaining the stars, and faltered several times while reliving the final battle, but made it through to the end.

  “Chamonix was a big help in patching the ship up. She can find hull breaches just by stickin’ her hand into the wall, and fix them herself, too. Pretty freaky. The big fight seems to have been some kind’ve trigger for her – she just keeps gettin’ stronger.”

  “Good for her.” Gypsy let her eyes drift to the wall where the crew vitals were displayed. Fourteen of the twenty-one screens were now blank. Iris stood looking at one of the handful that were still illuminated – Gypsy’s own, possibly. “So, Rivers was hoist by her own petard. There’s a certain justice to that, though it’s unfortunate so many went with her. Anyway, congratulations.”

  Annie seemed to take a moment to register that last word. “Huh? Why?”

  “You’re now the chief technician, by my reckoning. Congratulations.”

  “What? What?” Gypsy was intrigued to see Annie’s face reddening. In anger, perhaps? But what could have caused that?

  “Don’t tell me they gave the post to Daniella. She’s nothing more than a trainee. It had to be you, surely?”

  Annie exploded. “Yeah, I’m the chief! I’m the chief because I’m the only one left!”

  Gypsy shrugged. “A promotion is a promotion, and it’s well earned, even if the circumstances aren’t the best. I never got the impression you were that close to the others, anyway. Well, except for Flora, but she died ages ago.”

  “How can you say that? What have they done to you?” Annie put a hand to her head. “What did you do to yourself?”

  Clearly angry, thought Gypsy. But what about? Stressed because of the extra workload, perhaps. “Don’t worry,” she said aloud. “If you need someone to assist you in Engineering, I’m available. I’ll be able to pick things up much more quickly than Daniella could.”

  “Shut up.” Annie was clutching her head with both hands now. “If this is the new and improved Gypsy, count me out.”

  Iris suddenly appeared at Annie’s side. “You’re dizzy,” she said, somewhat unnecessarily.

  “Perhaps it’s because of the change in gravity?” suggested Gypsy helpfully. “That got me when they first brought me to Chopiko. Anyway, I’ll leave you to it.” Confident that the newly-promoted technician was in safe hands, she strolled back to her quarters.

  * * *

  A good-hearted woman, Annie, Gypsy decided as she entered her mother’s room. Not always the most rational, though. Prone to speaking before she thinks.

  Never mind…

  Something caught Gypsy’s eye – a painting, the one her mother had completed just before her death. A field full of Gypsophila flowers, with a ray of sun illuminating a single one.

  She paused to study it. A decent amateur effort, certainly, though a trifle monotonous in terms of its content, the Gypsophila all being white. The artist did seem to have made an effort to add detail and differentiate them, though close scrutiny showed that the paint had run on some of the finer strokes.

  The improbably-illuminated flower was meant to represent Gypsy herself, of course. A metaphor for something or other. How she stood out in a crowd, maybe? No way of knowing now.

  I cried the last time I looked at this, she remembered. Right before I got kidnapped. Funny though, I think it made me happy too. Now I feel nothing; it’s just paint on a canvas. I could tear it to shreds, and it wouldn’t matter.

  Gypsy raised her hands to do just that, then dropped them to her sides again. Why should she destroy it, after all? To prove that she could? Pointless. Frowning slightly, she passed into her room. Some of her papers had been moved from their usual spots on her desk, so she replaced them.

  The resolution of matters back on the base still bothered her. Monosade would betray Anasade – she had no doubt of that. If only she’d had time to work with Chopiko’s military specialists, Gypsy could have made such a difference. Then again, who was to say she still couldn’t? They’d be in communications range until they jumped out o
f this system. If nothing else, she could at least transmit some more of her mathematical knowledge to them. Gypsy had amassed quite a body of work over the years – some of it might be useful.

  Come to think of it, how about sending them the plans Rivers had drawn up for the warship Bona Dea? Yes, that was the answer. She’d approach Hunter and ask for permission. The captain was a pacifist, but she was also a rational woman who would surely see the sense in allowing innocent people to arm themselves.

  Satisfied, Gypsy crossed to the mirror and proceeded to brush her teeth. She was tired, and should rest up before tackling Hunter with a fresh mind in the morning. Finishing with her brushing, she nodded with satisfaction at her reflection, and reached out to tap the mirror seven times for luck.

  One, two, three, four, five … six?

  Gypsy froze. Suddenly, her heart was accelerating unpleasantly. Why was she engaging in a superstitious ritual?

  “It’s just force of habit,” she reassured herself. “The last time I stood here, I was still the old, broken Gypsy. Yes, just habit. I stopped on six, after all. I wouldn’t have been able to do that if I was slipping back.”

  She began to turn from the mirror, but then caught herself. The urge to tap the mirror a seventh time had lodged itself in her mind, and was liable to stick around for a while unless she did something about it.

  “Fine. Just so I can get some sleep.” Gypsy tapped the mirror a seventh time, but then found herself wondering whether that would really count as seven, or whether the long delay made it a six and a one. She’d better do a full set of seven, just to be sure.

  One, two, three, four, five, six, seven. There.

  Though, perhaps that had merely cancelled out her first, corrupted attempt at mirror tapping, and she should do another set of seven to put herself “in the black”, so to speak. Gypsy was only partway through this newest set when the idea of making it seven sets of seven for extra luck occurred to her, perhaps followed up with seven Our Fathers for good measure.

  “Stop!” she cried out, and managed, with an effort, to once again restrain her finger from making its seventh tap. “Stop. I’m different now. I’m strong.”

  But when she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror, it was the troubled face of the old Gypsy that looked back at her.

  “Okay, I’ll prove it, I’ll prove I’m still rational. I’m going to go into the next room and destroy my mother’s painting.”

  No! I can’t do that!

  “Fine, I’ll start with something easier.”

  Casting about her room for a suitable target, Gypsy noticed the teddy bear tucked up snugly in her bed.

  “Bobby! Yes, you’ll do nicely…” She knew that the bear had a small hole on the left of his neck that her mother had sewed up many times to prevent his stuffing from escaping. It should be possible, using that opening as her starting point, to rip the bear’s head off completely. The symbolic destruction of her beloved childhood companion would show that Gypsy Cumberland was now a woman of high logic, not base emotion.

  She wrested Bobby from his repose and got to work. It took her some minutes – she wasn’t strong, and whatever fabric he was made from proved to be tough. By the time Gypsy completed the decapitation, she was sweating profusely, and a swathe of cotton had formed about her knees.

  “There,” she gasped, flinging the head down in triumph. “Proof! I’m not her again.”

  The bear’s marble eyes stared back at her accusingly. A wave of sickness overcame her. Oh Bobby, what have I done? I’m so sorry…

  She squeezed her eyes shut. “No. He’s not alive. He’s … it’s … just dead, anthropomorphised matter. It means nothing. Nothing.”

  An image of her cell on Chopiko drifted into her mind. Yes, that was it. She should relive the feeling of using the Mental Imprinter. Get back in the mindset. Gypsy built up the memory, adding a chill to the air, the sweet scent of the solazu bugs, the metallic feel of the Imprinter’s helmet gripping her head as its tendrils wormed inwards. Dr. Koli watching her in that way she had, somewhere between clinical and sympathetic.

  It worked. Her heart rate slowed perceptibly; her breathing grew steady. The irrational impulses faded. They were still there, though, waiting for her as soon as she opened her eyes and left her safe haven.

  “Okay, she said, relieved to find her voice steady. “Okay, so I was wrong: Koli was telling the truth about me needing more treatments to make the changes permanent. I missed this morning’s session, so now my old thought patterns are beginning to reassert themselves. What next? Go back and get the Imprinter? No, it’s useless without Koli to play her part. I need an alternative. Back to Medical, that’s the answer.”

  Gypsy opened her eyes and began to walk in that direction. Her heart soon began to pound again, her perceptions to alter - the corridors of the Bona Dea seemed to blur and bend around her as she walked, fighting the urge to run.

  She was pleased, upon re-entering Medical, to find that Dr. Little had now joined Annie and Iris. The more brainpower in the room the better. The trio were talking quietly when Gypsy came in, but Annie soon spotted her.

  “Gypsy! Is something up?”

  “I need your help.”

  “Sure, anything I can-”

  “Not you,” snapped Gypsy impatiently, turning to the other two women. “I need the doctors.”

  “Are you ill?” asked Little. She seemed physically none the worse for wear after being knocked about during the mutiny, though perhaps a trifle subdued.

  “Yes and no. Look, back on the base, they gave me a treatment with this device that erm, it copied someone else’s brain into mine. Her way of thinking, I mean. It, it worked by…” But how had it worked? She’d never really gone into close detail, content to let the device work its magic. “Somehow it used electrical impulses to make my synapses fire in particular patterns in response to particular st-stimuli. Yes, that’s right. It copied the way someone else was thinking, and made me think the same way, and now it’s wearing off and I’m going OCD again. I need you to do something to make me stay how I am right now.”

  The more she spoke, the more Gypsy realised that she was asking for a miracle, but a part of her still hoped that Little would click her fingers and say, Yes, I’ve got just the thing for that. Iris, get the Neural Freezer out of the cupboard.

  Instead, the two physicians exchanged blank looks. Gypsy’s head dipped in defeat. She realised then that her robe was hanging slightly open and she was still naked underneath. Hastily drawing it closed, Gypsy fought the urge to wonder how much, if anything, she’d shown.

  “Minds on the job,” she said, as much to herself as to the doctors. “Rivers managed to come up with a way to beat Anasade’s defences pretty much straight away, didn’t she? That means we’re technologically ahead of them. You should be able to…”

  Little was shaking her head. “It’s not that simple, Gypsy. Different societies develop faster in different areas. We’ve never made anything like what you’re describing, and honestly, I think there’s a reason for that. It sounds totally unsafe. Real improvement in mental health takes time and effort – shortcuts are never the answer.”

  “But it is the answer! I’ve just told you it worked. Do something, come up with an idea!”

  “I’m sorry, but all I can suggest is to get back on your pills, and-”

  “No. I can’t go back to how I was, struggling just to be a shadow of what’s normal. It comes so easily to you, doesn’t it? You don’t know what it means to fight yourself all day, every day, until there’s nothing left to look forward to but, but the end!” Tears were running down her face, and she didn’t care. “Please, I can feel it slipping away. I’ll lose everything I’ve gained. Just give me something, anything…”

  Little tried to embrace her; Gypsy pushed the reaching hands away. “I want to help,” said the doctor, “but-”

  “It might not be entirely impossible,” said Iris suddenly. “We could monitor her brain activity and note the
patterns which emerge when she has a distressing thought. Then we could use directed electricity to burn out the neurons in question.”

  “Yes,” said Gypsy. “Let’s try that.”

  “No, let’s absolutely not!” Little sounded horrified. “How could you even suggest that, Iris? It’s a one-way ticket to brain damage.”

  “You can damage it as much as you like,” said Gypsy with a surge of passion. “I hate it. I hate being me.”

  Annie spoke up from the periphery of her vision. “Don’t talk like that. You’re the sweetest, kindest woman I’ve ever met … if you stop being you somethin’ beautiful would be dead. I know it hurts sometimes, but you don’t have to stand the pain alone. Just let go, and your friends will catch you. Together we’re-”

  “Oh, shut up. We both know why you want me how I was. It’s so you can feel superior, isn’t it? Behold the generous hero, taking time out of her day to help the emotional cripple. I bet the thought of it makes you feel warm inside, doesn’t it? Hmm?”

  For the first time since she’d entered, Gypsy turned to look at Annie.

  The redhead’s cheeks were wet with tears.

  Sickening guilt washed over Gypsy. She wanted nothing more than to take the words back, take everything back, rewind her life to day one and start over. She returned her gaze to Iris and Little, but now saw clearly there was nothing to be done.

  “I think I’d like to be alone.”

  Gypsy began to walk back to her quarters. After a few paces, the walk became a run.

  * * *

  She’d expected someone to chase after her; they did not. Quite whether that relieved or disappointed Gypsy, she wasn’t sure. Certainly, she had no more success in finding a solution by herself than she had as part of a group. Already, the trick of imagining herself back on Chopiko base was proving less effective. The sensations associated with her cell already seemed like memories of memories, second-hand and distant. The rational mentality connected with them was crumbling too, taking on the feel of a dress three sizes too big for her which could only be held in place awkwardly and with great concentration.