Division Zero: Thrall

by Matthew S. Cox

  Kirsten bit her lip, finding it hard to resist his half-closed eyes and round face. “You know those articles don’t mean much. The experts will agree with whoever the money comes from.”

  He thought for a minute, fidgeting with the towel to keep it in place. “Does that mean the ones who say it’s bad are lying too?”

  Checkmate.

  At least, checkmate for her sleep-deprived brain. “Fine, a small one. Make me one while you’re over there.”

  “‘Kay.” He grinned and plunked his forehead against the door again, staring at the flickering sparks inside.

  She gathered herself out of bed and stretched, skritching him on the head as she plodded past him to the apartment’s only window. A delivery bot tapped a spindly metal arm on the glass a moment later, dropping off two canisters of autoshower soap.

  Evan got the tamed-down version of the story of last night as they shared coffee. When he finished his, he sprang from his seat, grabbed one canister and ran out of the towel into the bathroom. Kirsten slumped on her elbows, watching his shadow in the light the bathroom cast on the main-area floor as he installed the new cartridge. For a moment, she felt terrified.

  Was this a good idea? Can I handle having a kid? I’m only twenty-two. I… I don’t have anyone to fall back on for help. What if I can’t handle him? What if the caseworker walks in and he’s streaking around? Am I supposed to yell at him for that? Will it cause mental scars if I make a big deal about it? She let her forehead fall on her arms. The autoshower started up. Evan soon lapsed into his recitation of his favorite lines from the Monwyn vids.

  Kirsten draped herself to the side, staring over the table at the lit bathroom. A contented smile spread over her face. Have a little faith in yourself, K.

  Hospital white hallways passed in a haze of anxiety. Evan was safe at school, and Kirsten walked across the Division 0 portion of the police complex toward the admin wing. A large room semblant to a library added a touch of brown and black to the otherwise antiseptic place. Four teens in admin duty uniforms sat at the tables using a combination of terminals and old books to research various things. One girl stared at the holographic screen without moving, navigating the system by willpower alone.

  Kirsten leaned on the wall below the nameplate for Dr. Susan Loring and watched the admin cadets work for a few minutes. The door opened with a squeak, revealing the smiling brown face of one of the department head-docs. She had an exotic look, with high cheekbones and thin features. If not for being six feet tall, Kirsten would have called her a caramel elf.

  “What’s on your mind, luv?”

  Kirsten let her folded arms fall at her sides. “Just thinking about these admin kids, wondering if I should’ve gone that route.”

  She followed her in, flopping on the couch while Dr. Loring took her position at a nearby chair. Like most psychologists Kirsten had ever worked with, her office had many bookshelves piled with actual paper books and an uncountable number of small statuettes, sculptures, and magnetic toys. This was one of those rooms decorated in blues and greens, attempting to make deliberate use of calming colors.

  “I understand the decision was not all yours,” said Dr. Loring, a hint of regret in her words.

  “Yeah, they knew about the lash. At least Evan can’t do it; all he can do is see them. They don’t have any reason to force him out into the field.”

  “You don’t want him out there?”

  “Of course not.” Kirsten smiled. “I don’t want him to get hurt. I mean, it’ll be his decision when he’s eighteen.”

  Dr. Loring thumbed her datapad. “How have you been dreaming lately?”

  Kirsten smirked. “You don’t have to dance around it, Doc. I haven’t had the nightmare again. I’m sure I’ve dealt with it.”

  “Oh?” Dr. Loring perked up. Long slender fingers curled over the top of her datapad as she leaned forward. “Please, would you talk a little more on that?”

  “As long as you don’t think I’m crazy. You know I can see ghosts and you work with psionics all the time so I guess you won’t.”

  The doctor smiled.

  “Well, when I was working on the Motte case, I ran out of ideas. I knew Intera Corporation was hiding something, but I had no way to get inside. They had assassins coming after me, so I didn’t want to go through the front door. I didn’t care what the living were up to at the time; I was hoping to find a trace of Albert there. I knew I had the potential for astrally projecting myself, but I never tried doing it before.”

  “I remember you said Evan was projecting when you first met him.”

  Kirsten flashed a sad smile. “Yeah, I thought he was a ghost at first.” She picked at the gold serpent around her right wrist, her sadness chased away by the thought of Konstantin’s arm around her. “This is gonna sound silly, but I visited him in the dorm, hoping he’d teach me how to do it.”

  Dr. Loring leaned back, skimming through her electronic notes. Blue light changed the tint of her beige suit-jacket. “Your rating is far higher than his in Astral Sense. Shouldn’t you have been better at it?”

  “Rating is just potential. Individual abilities like that take practice. I might have tried once, I don’t really remember it. Projecting is strange. I felt exposed, naked almost. It’s just a body of light.” Kirsten moved her hands through the air as if tracing a woman’s outline, and sat back staring at the wall for a full minute. “My mother would sometimes paddle me in front of her friends like it was some big ‘hey, look how awful my daughter is’ event: tea, cookies, and a screaming bare-assed child. I’m not really sure how many times it happened, I just remember them all cackling at me. They thought it was funny.”

  “It’s possible from that you developed gymnophobia?”

  “Huh?” Kirsten looked over.

  “It’s a fear of nudity, both your own and seeing others without clothes. You might even realize it is an irrational fear. Do you have a problem with undressing to shower?”

  “I don’t think so; I don’t have a problem showering. I mean, I have to blockade the bathroom before I get in the tube, but I only do that because I’ve had two incidents. I’m no Neko-chan, or whatever they call themselves. I don’t enjoy exhibitionism, though some of the dresses I’ve worn lately haven’t been too far off.” She blushed.

  “Incidents?”

  “Peeping ghosts. Getting put in a med tank was mortifying, but I don’t have nightmares about it. I don’t think I’m gimmophobic or whatever you said. I can shower just fine when I have privacy.”

  “Okay.” Dr. Loring tapped in some more notes. “Have you considered the possibility you have a negative self-image? That can happen in cases where a person has been subjected to an authority figure who constantly belittled them.”

  “Now you sound like you’re trying to talk me into walking around topless. What’s next, getting a tail or cat ears?” Kirsten offered a silly smile, picking at the bracelet. “Konstantin thinks I’m pretty.”

  “You’re dating?” Dr. Loring sat up with a raised eyebrow. “Interesting, I directly mention your mother and you have no reaction at all.”

  “Yeah. He’s Russian, smart, rich, handsome…” Kirsten lost her dreamy face and shifted on the couch. “That woman has no more power over me.”

  “Sounds like you finally had a little good luck for a change. Anyway, back to your dream?”

  “Oh, yeah. I’m very lucky to have found Konstantin. Maybe the world’s trying to make up for the rough start.” Kirsten interlaced her fingers over her stomach. “I got a sense of how to project from Evan, looking at his thoughts while he did it. I got it to work, but when I saw my body behind me; it was so startling I panicked. I think I blacked out and woke up inside my nightmare.”

  “Some manner of lucid dream?”

  “I’m not sure what that means.”

  Dr. Loring rested her arms on her lap, over the datapad. “It’s a dream where once you realize you are dreaming, you have some degree of control over it. Events within a
lucid dream can feel as though they happen in reality. People often do not realize they’re dreaming at first, but once they do―they can exert their will into the dream-world and change things.”

  “This is where I was afraid you would think I’m cracked. It didn’t feel like a dream at all. It was like I was eight again, back at home and locked in the closet. I tried to get out, but I made so much noise Mother heard and came over to punish me. It wasn’t the same as the dream, though. In the nightmare I had no control, I was just stuck re-living the night she broke my leg over and over again. This time, Evan was there, telling me to come out. I figured he was shouting at me in the real world, but it was as if he was telling me to get out of the closet. To run.”

  Dr. Loring nodded.

  “I did, I defied her. I finally wound up changing into a grown-up before she could paddle me. I wouldn’t let her hit the little girl on the floor again. I knew Mother was dead. I knew it was some kind of vision or dream or something. I lashed her. Dorian thought my fear of her had been preventing me from projecting, like I didn’t want to be exposed.”

  “It’s a plausible theory. So you have not had the nightmare again since that event?”

  “No. I got the feeling there was some kind of presence helping me get through it. I had this strong sense of peace and relief come over me when I woke up, like… I dunno.”

  “A religious experience?”

  “Hah.” Kirsten laughed. Her mirth lasted a few seconds before it faded to a tentative giggle, then silence. “Umm… I never thought about it that way. You know, Dorian said she was just a psychotic person using God as an excuse. I mean, if there even is a God, maybe he finally got tired of Mother making him look bad.”

  Dr. Loring chuckled.

  “I still don’t know. I’ve seen the doorway to the other side, where spirits go. I can’t look through it, but for all I know there’s only positive energy there, not some old man in a toga.”

  “Do you still have feelings of anger toward the religious minority?”

  “Only Reverend Harris,” Kirsten said with a sarcastic frown. “It’s not the concept of a divine I hate, it’s people who use it to hurt others. Especially an idiot calling for psionics to be rounded up and burned at the stake.”

  “That is progress for you, Kirsten. It’s hard to hate a theoretical construct. Maybe someday humanity will mature enough not to need a Santa Claus for grownups. However, just because a person is deluded into thinking there’s a higher power out there doesn’t make them worthy of hatred or scorn.”

  Kirsten sat up. “According to Dorian, the religious once persecuted the atheists. Far enough back, they even killed them for it. Kinda funny how they’re the majority now.”

  Dr. Loring switched her posture, crossing her legs the other way. “Perhaps flying into space routinely and not finding Heaven helped. I suspect it was a challenge for a society spread over multiple planets to cling to a belief system that put the Earth as the center of reality. Do you think someone out on a colony world goes to the same heaven or hell when they die?”

  “There is somewhere we go when we die, Doc. I’ve heard the voices of long-dead relatives call out of these silver doorways. If there is a Heaven, it can’t occupy the same plane or dimension as this world. It wouldn’t be above the clouds.”

  “Well, it seems you have come to terms with what your mother did to you. As you must assume, the board is a little concerned given the horrific abuse you suffered. There is some worry that under sufficient stress you may…”

  Kirsten shifted on the couch, staring at Dr. Loring. The mental image of what her child self looked like―tiny, battered, shaking―formed in her mind. She sent it into Dr. Loring’s head, causing the psychiatrist to drop her datapad.

  “I know this was different because I saw myself from the outside in that dream. There’s no way in hell I could ever do that to a child.” Kirsten wiped tears. “Never.” She slouched. “I am afraid I won’t do something right, though. I don’t exactly have a role model of parenting to go by. I don’t want to mess him up, but I will never hurt him.”

  The doctor stared at her, bending forward as her fingers probed the carpet in search of the lost datapad. A fingernail hooked it, pulling it into reach. She sat up, tapping at the edges of the plastic device. It took her a few minutes to gather enough composure to speak. “That… image you just flooded me with. That was you?”

  Kirsten gathered her arms tight to her chest. “Yeah. At first, I thought the vision was making it look worse to torture me. Then I remembered how bad things really were. I don’t care what Evan does, I’ll never be capable of any of the things she did to me. If anything, I’m afraid I’ll be too lenient on him.”

  Dr. Loring leaned forward and back, offering a slow nod as she pursed her lips. “How does he feel about your Russian superman?”

  A twinge of nausea flipped through her gut. She fussed with the bracelet, spinning it around her narrow wrist. “There is some tension. He thinks Konstantin dislikes him. For a little while, I wondered if Evan may just be jealous of another male figure in the picture. You believe he called him old? The man’s only a year or three older than I am.”

  “That’s kind of Freudian.”

  “Huh? I dunno what that means. He isn’t throwing fits or tantrums or even protesting when I go out. He… I don’t know, Doc. It’s like he’s worried about me, and there’s no reason for it.” Kirsten shuddered, trying to keep her breakfast down. She broke out in a sweat. “If that relationship becomes any threat to his well-being, I’ll call it off with Konstantin. Evan’s more important to me than anything.” She drew in a sharp breath, sweating, shivering.

  “Are you alright, Kirsten? You look feverish.”

  She grimaced at the wall. “I was in The Beneath last night, maybe I picked something up. I’ll head over to the infirmary when we’re done.”

  “Good enough. In the manner of your adoption request, you haven’t demonstrated”―Kirsten sagged, her eyes reddened, breathing went shallow―“any significant mental issues that would lead me to challenge his placement.”

  Kirsten squeaked, clutching her hands to her chest.

  “Also, given you’re the only Astral Sensate of any note in the entire region, command is encouraging the idea. I’m going to recommend that they approve your request. Danita did have some reservations about your living arrangements, however. You’ll have to do better than give him a sleeping bag on your floor.”

  “Oh!” Kirsten jumped to her feet. “I was gonna get a bigger place, but I was terrified they’d deny me and then the giant apartment would just make me think of him.” She sagged onto the couch again, heart racing. “I’ll definitely move. We’ll get a place.”

  Dr. Loring gave her a quizzical look. “You should get over to the infirmary, Kirsten. You look normal again. Do you feel feverish at all?”

  “No,” she blurted through a grin. “I feel awesome.”

  irsten draped herself on Konstantin’s arm in the back seat of the white stretch hovercar. It had been almost a week since she had seen him. His presence had come on like a rush of a little girl seeing a military father back after a yearlong deployment. He didn’t seem to mind her clinging, entwining his seized arm through hers until he held one of her hands. White high-heeled shoes sat on the floor, legs tucked up under her on the pale grey seats.

  Shimmering silver fabric clung to her body, held in place by a choker that verged on being too tight. The garment left most of her back exposed; however, unlike her green dress, it remained secure over her front with a hem that ended at mid-thigh.

  “Do you like the gown?”

  Her open-mouthed grin closed as she nodded. “It’s lovely.”

  Kirsten rested her head on his shoulder, one finger idly picking at the inch-tall metal ring around her neck. The tight-fitting band, coupled with her subservient posture, caused an out-of-nowhere crash of shame. Woozy, she let go and sat up with one hand on her head.

  “Are you alright, my de
ar?”

  She glanced at him, then forward. “I… The choker is a little tight. I don’t think I’m getting enough air.”

  Konstantin brushed her hair aside and tugged her closer by the metal ring. The gesture did little to lessen the feeling of being another of his possessions. Too sick to resist, she clasped her hands to her gut and let him move her. He squeezed something behind her neck, the device chirped, and loosened.

  “It’s adjustable. Is that better?” He tugged at the fabric, making sure it sat over her collarbones properly.

  Her hands slid from stomach to lap as he nudged her face around with a finger on the chin and kissed her. As if he had special powers, the touch of his lips chased away the tightening knot in her gut. Konstantin leaned away, smiling with half-closed eyes at her stunned expression.

  “Yes, that’s better.” She put a hand on her throat, fiddling with it.

  He took her hand again, stroking the back. “You still seem on edge.”

  “In the Badlands, gangs abduct people and keep them as slaves. I met a spirit who died like that, wandered all the way to the city. There was so much shame in her. I couldn’t get her to grasp the concept of latent self-image. She couldn’t make the collar go away, probably still out there somewhere. Her spirit won’t be free until she gets justice, and there was no convincing command to go after the bastards who killed her. This choker feels a bit like a collar to be honest.” She offered a weak smile.

  Konstantin gestured at the roof. “Then you shall be rid of it. How do you fancy blue?”

  “Oh, you don’t have to buy me another dress. I’m just feeling a little claustrophobic. Really, it’s fine.” Am I? What the hell is wrong with me? Why is my stomach doing backflips? Maybe I’m just afraid I’ll wake up from this dream.

  “I insist. I want you to be at ease and enjoy our night.”

  She blushed. “Aren’t you speaking?”

  He chuckled. “Yes, I have to entertain the underlings for a short while. After that, the evening is ours.”

  He spoke in Russian to the driver, who altered course. Kirsten stared at her knees, feeling awkward and guilty about making him spend more money. Nothing she said changed his mind, and as the car began its descent, she slipped her shoes back on. They landed on the roof of a Mallplex in Sector 214, an area of the city that functioned as the playground of the wealthy. She found herself clinging to his arm as they crossed the hovercar parking area to an elevator, wondering how she’d gone from police officer to arm decoration.