She hesitated. A single beat, yet he caught it. “All those in the Union understand these things. That the Separatists don’t take the time to teach it to their members shows their short-sightedness.”
Karl smiled, not taking his eyes from Tenessa’s face. She was reaching. He felt sure of it. Teaching someone to grasp time wasn’t possible. Not really. You could teach concepts from a book, but anyone who couldn’t Travel would have difficulty truly grasping it. Karl supposed it was feasible that the collective bond made it possible, in some way Karl didn’t understand, to grasp the notion of time, but he doubted it. Time travel required individuality. Individual decision making, grasp of nuance, and scope of mind were all needed. The collectives were simply too limited. Collective drones didn’t have the capacity for time travel.
“I’m not convinced all collectivists know of such things. But!” He raised a hand when she opened her mouth angrily. “I’ll admit I may be wrong, and if I am, then I will also concede that the collectives educate their dr—members extremely well.”
It seemed to mollify her, though her jaw still clenched.
“Perhaps,” he chose his words carefully, “we should each define what quantum entanglement means to us,” Karl said. “To make sure we’re on the same page. We may be calling two different phenomena by the same name.”
Again, the guarded hesitation. She nodded.
Karl knew he’d have to begin. “Quantum entanglement, as I understand it, happens when two things—people, galaxies, what have you—have some kind of interaction with each other. An interaction so profound, they remain connected afterward, the one always affecting the other.” He raised an eyebrow at her.
“We understand the same definition,” she said calmly. She opened her mouth, then froze. Closed it again.
“Please,” Karl said quickly, “go on.”
She pressed her lips together for a moment. Then her face softened. “This phenomenon is known to the Union,” Tenessa said carefully, “but not fully understood. The Union cannot replicate it. We theorize it is merely a deeper form of the Cupola bond.”
Karl frowned, straightening his spine. “What’s a Cupola bond?”
Tenessa’s face remained tranquil, yet her eyes smirked at him. He felt certain it was triumph because she knew something he didn’t.
“Is this the Separatist’s question?” she asked, her head turning slightly to the side and her eyes going to the ground.
Karl fought to keep his mouth from dropping open. Was she actually being coy? He could swear the smallest hint of a smile played at the corners of her mouth.
Karl cleared his throat, then gave an exaggerated roll of his eyes, trying to recover. “Yes. Fine. It will be my question for this round. What is a Copula bond?”
Tenessa looked more businesslike again. “A bond used to link minds when the Unions first rose. Its structure is intensely…emotional.”
“Ah.” Karl straightened his spine. He’d remembered learning of such things as a boy. “I never knew what the bonds were called. When people first began linking their minds, they used a bond based in the part of the brain housing emotion. The collectives no longer use that method to link its members. Haven’t for decades. It’s too emotional, right?”
Tenessa pressed her lips together. “The Union has found…more efficient methods.”
More efficient. Code for less emotional. And more easily controlled.
“So,” he said. “You think Maggie and Marcus’s bond is like an early collective bond, but deeper. Interesting.”
Tenessa raised a questioning eyebrow. “What does the Separatist find interesting?”
Karl grinned. He loved it when her curiosity seeped through the cracks of her apathy. “Is that your question, Tennessa?”
She scowled and he chuckled.
“I find it interesting because neither Maggie nor Marcus know where their bond came from. They don’t recall doing anything purposeful to create it. Tell me, can a Cupola bond be creating between two people by a third party?”
Tenessa frowned. “What would be the logic for such a situation?”
“I have no idea. I’m wondering if someone may have created this link without their knowledge. Or is it something they would have to do themselves?”
“We…” Tenessa opened and closed her mouth several times, glancing self-consciously at him.
“It’s okay to say you don’t know, Tenessa. No one knows everything.”
“The Separatist should apply his statement to himself,” she muttered, almost sneering.
“Obviously I’m the only one in the room who needs to do so,” Karl said dryly.
Tenessa raised her chin haughtily and slid her eyes away from him. He was sure she’d understood his sarcasm this time.
“Do the collectives use Cupola bonds for…anything anymore?” he ventured.
“No,” she said coldly. “Such links are forbidden.”
“Ah. Because they’re built using emotion?”
Tenessa hesitated. He could tell she wanted to give him the cold shoulder, but also to answer his question. She warred with herself another minute before the answering side won. “Not in the way the Separatist implies. Emotion isn’t automatic with Cupola bonds. It can still be kept at a distance.” She paused. “It…opens the mind too much. Opens it to the possibility of emotion.”
“Well,” Karl muttered, loud enough for her to hear, “heaven forbid anyone’s mind be open. Especially to emotion.”
She glared at him.
He wanted to know more, but couldn’t think of specific questions. She didn’t seem like she knew much more of the Cupola bonds anyway. Doc probably would. He decided to change the subject. Slightly. “My turn to ask. Other than Marcus and Maggie’s bond, what other particle interactions can you see?”
She shrugged. “Many. Most. Electromagnetic fields, attractive forces between people, human bioenergy fields—”
“Whoa, whoa,” Karl held up a hand. “Slow down. Attractive forces between people? What does that mean?”
Tenessa gave him a scathing look. “The Separatist asks a second question.”
Karl rolled his eyes. “I gave you several sub questions and you know it, so humor me.”
Her look turned sullen. “As you said before, when two things pass one another, there are always attractive forces. The strength of those forces will determine the bond between the two objects. The strength of the attractive force between two galaxies is, of course, much different than that between two people. Yet the nature of the force is the same.”
Karl nodded as she spoke. “That’s physics 101, Tenessa. What is it you actually see?”
She hesitated. “We don’t see it. We perceive it, but not with our visual receptors. It’s more of a…perceived energy.”
“Is it a neurochemical ability? To perceive these particle interactions?”
She hesitated before answering, but Karl didn’t detect any deception in her countenance. He’d noticed she often studied the floor between them, gathering her thoughts. She never looked up him until she was ready to speak.
“Perhaps. Most human can detect them to some extent, whether they know it or not. One might say our ability to discern them is…far greater than others’.”
“When you perceive them, what can you tell about them?”
She shrugged—another very individual thing to do. “It is dependent upon the energy itself. What we can observe is…situational.”
Karl nodded, filing the information away. This might be useful. Interchron hadn’t come across this ability before, Karl was certain. “And the other thing you said, human bio…?”
“Human bioenergy fields.”
“What does that mean?”
She gave him another dark look, but he would ask as many questions as she’d let him.
“They are electromagnetic fields existing around human beings. They are indicative of emotions.”
“You mean auras? You can read auras.”
She opened h
er mouth, then closed it again. “We concede that is a mostly accurate, if archaic, description.”
Karl tried to lean back on the stool, forgetting that the ladder back only reached a few inches above his waist. He lost his balance and nearly fell off the stool. “Well,” he said when he’d regained it. “I guess you have an advantage. You can read my moods. How am I feeling right now?”
He’d expected anger, but she seemed to genuinely study him. “The Separatist is sincerely curious. And enjoying himself. Too much.”
Karl grinned. “And what the scientific standard for ‘too much?’ That would be the Tenessa Scale, no?”
She gave him another heated look.
Karl wondered if it was possible for a person’s face to overheat from too much glaring. He knew he shouldn’t push her, but couldn’t help himself. This was too much fun. “And what about attractive forces? What is the nature of the attractive forces between you and me?”
Her eyes took on a dangerous cast. “Non-existent.”
Karl laughed out loud. “Fair enough, but you said all things have attractive forces.”
“The forces between us and the Separatist veer into the negative. Repellent, not attractive.”
Karl nodded, chuckling.
She didn’t speak immediately, and his mind wandered back to her first question. “Out of curiosity, what is the nature of the particle interaction you see between Kara and Clay?”
“I sense…deep affection. On both sides.”
Karl raised an eyebrow. “You sense affection emanating from Clay? When he’s brain dead?”
She gave a shake of her head. “Not in the same way it emanates from the living. It is faint. An echo of what once was. The echo remains. An afterimage.”
“Persistence of vision,” Karl murmured.
She gave him a questioning look.
“I’m learning that intense emotional interactions always leave echoes, Tenessa.” The quickening of her eyes came again when he said her name. “Tangible echoes that can be sensed in various ways. The collective thinks it can erase emotion. It can’t. Not really.”
Tenessa’s eyes turned hard. “Our turn to ask, Separatist.”
He inclined his head.
Tenessa let her gaze wander around the cavern, gathering her thoughts again. “The Separatist’s parents were individuals as well?”
Karl arched an eyebrow. These questions grew stranger with each round. His parents? “Yes,” he said warily.
“And they taught y—the Separatist to be alone?”
Karl pretended not to notice her slip, gazing intently at her instead. “What do you mean, ‘alone?’”
Tenessa shrugged again. “The Separatist is alone.”
Karl sighed, irritated with the tired argument. “Individuality doesn’t mean we’re alone, Tenessa. We’re alone in our minds, not connected to the minds of others as collectivists are. It doesn’t mean we’re alone. We’re with other people.”
“The Separatist doesn’t have a mate.”
Karl stared at her, then burst out laughing. “You’re asking me why I’m single?”
Tenessa’s face darkened and she put her eyes on the floor, hands clasped tightly in her lap. Not her usual, defiant, shutdown. Something about it came across as vulnerable.
Karl cleared his throat. “Tenessa.”
When she didn’t look up at him, he leaned forward on the stool, stretched out an arm and covered her hand with his. She flinched away so violently, jerking her hands from under his, he jumped back, holding his hands up. He hadn’t expected her to react like that. With all her defiance, did she truly fear him on a physical level?
“I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “I only wanted to say I wasn’t laughing at you. I mean, I was laughing at you, but not making fun of you. I just didn’t expect the question.”
Tenessa shifted on her seat. He couldn’t read her expression. “And what is the Separatist’s answer?” Her voice sounded hard.
Karl leaned back, considering. “I’m not single by choice. The population is much depleted these days. By far, most people are in your collectives. And thanks to your recruiters,” he used air quotes, not caring if she knew what it meant. Recruiters were what the collectives called the Arachnimen and Trepids. An innocuous euphemism for men who raped, terrorized and murdered every chance they got. “Most people who come into Interchron are quite traumatized. They aren’t looking for…those kinds of interactions.”
“What about the Protector’s daughter?”
Karl raised an eyebrow. “Lila? What about her?”
“Neither of you has a mate. You are of amicable age.”
Karl smirked. “Naw. Lila’s like my kid sister. That would be weird.”
Tenessa’s eyes narrowed. “And does the Separatist have a scientific standard for weird?”
Karl nearly laughed out loud. “Touché. What I mean is Lila and I don’t feel that way about one another. Emotionally. Our relationship will never be romantic.”
Now Tenessa looked genuinely confused. “Does the separatist truly share DNA with the Protector’s daughter?”
Karl frowned. “Well, no—”
“Then she is not his sister.”
“No, not biologically.” Karl sighed, realizing how difficult it would be to make her understand this. “It’s an emotional thing, Tenessa. Individuals mate with people they feel a certain way about. Or at least, they specifically don’t mate with people they feel a certain way about.”
Her expression remained confused.
“Do you understand?”
“It’s not logical,” she said.
“What isn’t?”
“The way individuals mate.”
Karl raised an eyebrow. “There’s…only one way to mate, Tenessa.”
The scathing look again. Karl thought fleetingly that eventually her face would stick that way.
“Separatists choose only one other. They know the one other extremely well—their personality and habits. It’s nonsensical. In the Union, we know everyone that way. Why only know one person so well? It is…limiting.”
Karl fingered his lips, then rubbed his jaw, trying to decide how to answer. He knew how mating worked in the collectives, at least in a general way. Drones were partnered up based on genetics: which two people would create the best drones for a certain job within the collective. Emotion didn’t enter the equation. Though they knew less about how the collectives conducted the actual sex act—they’d not been able to observe it extensively—Karl imagined it happened with equal detachment. Sex was all about emotion, after all. The collectives would mediate that as much as possible.
“There’s nothing wrong with ‘knowing’ a lot of people, Tenessa. Even with knowing them well. But there’s something to be said for having a relationship with someone you don’t have with anyone else. It’s what we call intimacy.”
Her expression darkened. “We know the meaning of the word intimacy.”
“Do you? I doubt you’ve ever experienced it for yourself, physically or emotionally.”
She didn’t answer.
“It’s like…” he trailed off, remembering how his father explained it to him as a boy. He’d asked his dad how he’d known his mom was the one. His father had smiled his gentle, knowing smile.
“Sometimes Karl, being noticed by one special person, someone you admire, is more important than all the fame and attention in the world.”
“It’s about needing the attentions of one person. Needing them constantly and on a deeper level than you get them from others in your life.”
Tenessa snorted again. “How is this better than getting equal attentions from all people in one’s life? It will end up being more.”
Karl felt the sadness in his own smile. “That may be true. More is not always better. I don’t think I can help you understand this Tenessa. You have no frame of reference for it. All I can say is if you ever feel it yourself—” Doubtful. “—then you’ll understand. Having these bonds with certain peo
ple, and specifically not having them with everyone, makes us…feel special. It’s one of the ways we measure our identity.”
Tenessa’s expression turned decidedly smug. “Then how does the Separatist define himself? He has no such relationship.”
Karl smirked. The woman was definitely learning. “True, but it’s not true of only romantic relationships. For example, I had a particular relationship with my parents. A bond with them I never can or will have with anyone else. They were my parents. I wouldn’t want the same bond with anyone else.” She frowned, so he went on. “Let’s put it this way. You say you know everyone in the collective intimately. You know their thoughts, feelings, personalities, right?”
She gave a bare nod of the head.
“Your bond to each of them is exactly the same, is it not? You interact with all of them in exactly the same way. Besides, the collective mediates emotion, so how different could all of their personalities possibly be?”
Her expression didn’t change.
“I find it more illogical to not experience different emotions and interactions with different people. It’s part of what makes us human, and to ‘mediate it’ into non-existence…it makes you stagnant, Tenessa. Why would you want that, rather than moving forward? Why would anyone?”
“Those who come willingly into the collective know what our way of life is. Should they not be given the choice to have their emotions mediated if it is what they truly desire?”
Karl studied Tenessa again, rubbing his jaw. “I suppose there’s some merit in that. I can’t argue against their free will. But then not all members of the collective are coming willingly these days, are they Tenessa?”
Her gaze snapped up to meet his in surprise, and he saw the knowledge dawn in her eyes. She’d just voided her own argument. After a moment, she dropped her head again.
“The Separatist still chooses to be alone.”
Dark Matter (Interchron Book 3) Page 11
