"See if you can get this. Your identity is really a concept that you carry around. It's all attachments. You attach yourself to your name, to the cards in your wallet, to your job, to everything in your life-the car you drive, who you live with, who your parents were, what your rank is, where you come from, what school you went to, what your ambitions are, what your zodiac sign is, what church you go to, what branch of therapy you're currently in-did I leave anything out?"
"Doesn't sound like it."
"But that's not who you really are, is it? You could change any of those things-or all of them-and you'd still be the same self, the same person experiencing. Right?"
"All right, yeah. I got that."
"The self is what experiences the identity, Jim. Identity is only memory. It's the cumulative sense of all that stuff in your data banks. If I were to take away your memories, I'd be robbing you of your identity, but you'd still be the same person experiencing."
"But-I know I'm me now," I said, tapping my chest. "I know who I am-"
"You know your attachments. When I ask you who you are, where do you go to look? When I ask you where you went to school, who your parents were, what kind of terminal you work on, where do you look?"
"Uh-oh, I see. In my memory."
"Right," she grinned. "So if I took away your memory, you wouldn't know who you were, would you?"
"I'd be awfully confused."
"Sure. In your case, that'd be just like normal. But you see the point. If you had no memory, you'd have no identity. You'd have to build a whole new one, wouldn't you?"
I shrugged. "Yeah, sure."
"Now if I gave you all of my memories, if I could just pour them into your head, you'd think you were me, wouldn't you?"
"Yeah. I can see that."
But you'd still be you, the same person experiencing it all. You'd just be experiencing a different identity now, right?"
"Okay, I got it."
"Good." She leaned back against the sofa and relaxed. "Well, that's what this whole thing is all about. The self-that being inside-that's who you really are. A telepath needs to know that or he'll go crazy. That's what all that training is really about. I had to experience my identity as a thing apart from my self so I could know my self. Jim," she said, with frightening candor, "I can never be my old identity again-because I know how artificial it was in the first place. In my training, I learned how I made it up. I looked at all my old memories. I saw how it all happened and it freed me!
"They tell you when you start your training that you're going to have to give up that thing you'd rather die than give up. I didn't know then what they meant-but it's the attachment to your identity. I had to give up being Ted. I am not Ted any more. I will never be Ted again." She stopped abruptly and looked at me-as if waiting for a reaction.
I stared at her. For a moment, I had the bizarre sensation that I was sitting with a total stranger again. "But I know who you are-" I protested. "Or do I? Is there any of Ted left?" I asked.
"All of me is left," she laughed. "What's gone are the `foofoos'-the arbitrary attachments to being a specific person." "This is very confusing," I admitted. "I keep thinking they've done something weird to you. I mean, weirder even than you're telling me."
"Of course it's weird!" she laughed. "That's the only reason for doing it." And then she turned serious again. She took my hand in hers. There was a hint of-was it sadness?-in her voice now. "The difference between us is that I know that identities are all artificial. That's a terrifying thing to know. An identity isn't just threatened by that fact-it's destroyed. Of course, you're going to resist knowing that. Because then you have to start being responsible for the identity you've created, are continually creating!"
"Uck," I said.
"That's exactly what I said when I found out-but there's something else on the other side of that-a whole new way of experiencing people. It was like discovering a new species! I stopped seeing-that is, I stopped focusing on all the shallow, physical, temporal attachments that people surround themselves with, and started seeing beyond the identity to the being who'd created it in the first place! It is an eerie-and wonderful-experience."
"You did that to me before, didn't you?" She nodded.
"Yeah-I had the strangest feeling that you were reading my mind. Or something."
"I was. Sort of. Only not quite the way you think. I was reading the physical expression of your mind."
"Huh?"
"Jim." She put her hand on my arm. Her tone was serious and intense now. She captured me with her eyes. "People build identities out of fear. You build an identity because you think you need it for survival. You use it as a wall. Telepaths know how to read the walls. You think your life is a secret? It never has been. We can see how it turned out on your face."
I didn't know what to say. I felt as if I'd been slammed against the wall-my wall. Why was she telling me this? What did she want from me?
She must have seen it in my expression. She stroked my arm gently. "A telepath has to know all this, Jim, because part of the job of the telepath is to build new identities. Every time I shift into a new body, I have to create a persona that's appropriate. It's not about acting-it's about being. I know this is hard for you to understand, Jim. I'm trying to condense months of training into a single conversation."
"I really do want to understand," I said.
"I know. I can see it. That's what makes this so hard for me. All I can tell you is that when you lose your body and your identity, what you gain is an incredible freedom. You can't imagine it. Really. There's a-a thing that happens, a point you reach, like an airplane racing down a runway, where you become airborne, and then you're flying. You know when you reach it, nobody has to tell you. That's the experience, Jim. I wish I could take you with me. I wish I could share it with you."
I said, "So do I. "
She didn't reply. Neither of us spoke for a moment. The moment stretched out-became an uncomfortable silence. I looked at her eyes again. I felt myself drawn-and I felt uneasy too. She was my boyfriend who'd become a goddess, and I didn't know what that made me.
"What's the matter?" she asked. She touched my hand gently.
"I, um-' I shrugged and pulled my hand away. "I'm a little overwhelmed, I guess." I took a breath, I exhaled loudly, I put my drink down. I wondered if I should say good night and go.
She sat up a little straighter then, she became more purposeful. She said quietly, "I'll tell you the truth, Jim. I had a very simple intention for tonight. I was going to bring you up here and fuck your brains out. Nothing more. I didn't really intend to have this conversation. I just wanted to complete some old business fur myself and have a little fun with an old buddy and pay you back for all the hard times I gave you in the past. Stupid me-I guess I really do love you too much to take that much advantage of you."
"Huh?" I picked up my jaw and fitted it back in place.
"Well, yeah," she admitted. "Hell-the one time we did it, you were so intense, it was like touching a high-voltage line. Don't you wonder why I kept trying to get you back in the sack-or the shower? That was my hidden agenda for tonight. But then we started talking. And there was just too much to talk about. And I realized how much misinformation there was between us. And I wanted you to just know me as I am now."
Her face was shining again. I thought of Ted. I remembered how he was always like a big silly kid-and the whole world was filled with fascinating toys. He was always grinning-like this. I'd never realized before how innocent his grin had been.
That smile was so sweet, so infectious ... and Tanjy's eyes were incredibly fascinating. I could look into them for hours, years, the rest of my life. I forgot all about Ted. That was a couple of lifetimes ago. This was a beautiful woman; this was now-
Something-happened. A throb of dizziness and-
The way I saw her shifted. The easy personality that was Tanjy was gone-the performance of Tanjy, but not the self. It was like a veil being pulled aside, revealing the light
behind as clearly as a rosy vision hovering in the sky. The smile was a window-and her drowning eyes were bottomless-I fell upward into them. She glowed like a god-she was radiant. And I felt beautiful, just basking in her reflection. The delight rose like a bubble, I surged with it--
And suddenly, I knew what she meant.
I had to blink and pull myself back out of her eyes. I didn't want to, but I had to ask. "Tanjy-there's a kind of telepathy that doesn't need an implant, isn't there-?"
Without taking her eyes from mine, she nodded slowly. "The corps thinks so. We know there's something that happens between two people that can't be explained." She took my hands in hers and held them warmly. Her face was angelic. I wanted to drown in her eyes again. "It's a kind of communication without words. . ." she whispered.
"I- heard of such a thing...I've never really experienced it... until now."
For a moment, we sat there looking at each other. She wasn't Ted-she wasn't Tanjy. She was just-beautiful.
The room, the world around us, ceased to exist. We were alone in an island universe, just the two of us. Her bright eyes had swallowed me. I had the weirdest feeling that the person opposite me was a mirror of my own soul.
In that moment, I loved her. Him.
I shook my head slowly. "None of this makes any sense to me," I said. "I don't understand any of this-and at the same time, I think I know exactly what you mean. There's a kind of tension between us, an electricity in the air. And I don't think it's just my hormones either."
"Uh huh." Her eyes were immense. "Don't try to explain it," she said. "Just... enjoy it."
"I have to know-"
She placed a finger across my lips. "Shh. Let it be mystical." And then she added, "Non-telepaths might call this love. It is, of course-but not the kind of love you think of when you use that concept-symbol. It's the experience of love without the attachments. "
"I do...love you...." Or did I? Who did I love?
"Listen to me--" she said abruptly. "You're going to be involved with some very big stuff, very soon now. I want to tell you something about communication. True communication. You're going to need to know this. It's not about talking-it's about listening. Listening with your whole soul. It's about listening so hard that you become the person you're listening to. Like you're doing right now. Can you remember that?"
"Yes, I will. I promise."
She looked thoughtful then. Even a little sad. She was Ted-or-Tanjy-again. It didn't make any difference. She allowed herself a small smile and touched my hand. "Good. Your life may depend on it. And-I love you too much to want to see you wasted."
And then there was nothing else to say. We just sat and looked at each other until the clock beeped. Three in the morning. "It's late," I said.
"Do you want to spend the night?" she asked.
"Sure."
She stood up then and offered me her hand. I got up off the couch and she led me into the bedroom.
I was surprised at how easy and natural it was.
FORTY-ONE
THE FIRST part of me to wake up was my smile.
I said, "Mmmm," and curled affectionately around the warm female body next to me. I slid my hands around her waist and up to cup her breasts.
She said, "Excuse me," and slipped out of bed. I heard her pad barefoot across the floor and into the bathroom. I heard the sound of a toilet flush. I waited for her to come back.
Instead, there was the sound of water running. A bathtub? I opened my eyes. I sat up. Wasn't she coming back?
She came back into the room, wearing a long dark robe suitable for a convent. She glanced around and made an expression of distaste. "What happened here last night? What is this-? Marshmallows?" She gave me an odd look. Almost hostile.
She wasn't beautiful any more. She was small and mean-looking. She seemed scrawny.
She wasn't Tanjy.
"We had-a marshmallow fight," I explained. "We were going to pick them up-"
She looked at me as if I were a cockroach in her bed. "Um-I'm sorry.... It wasn't my idea."
"Mm hm," she said, picking up marshmallows from the floor. "It never is."
"Are you the, uh-owner here?"
"The host? Yes, I am." She was making no secret of her annoyance.
"Oh," I said, feeling suddenly very weird. Like an intruder. I felt like I should pull the blanket up in front of me. Like a shield. "I, uh, guess I should be going then."
"Yes, you should."
I still didn't move. I said, "I'm sorry for the mess. Can I help you clean up?"
She stood up then and faced me. "No. I'd rather you didn't. I'd rather you just got out. Now, please."
I slid out of bed. I stepped on marshmallows. I started gathering up my clothes and pulling them on as quickly as I could.
As I was buttoning my shirt, I looked over at her. "Can I ask you something?"
She dumped the marshmallows into a wastebasket and straightened, brushing the powdered sugar off her hands. She waited for me to continue.
"What happened to Tanjy?" I asked.
She shrugged. "She went on to the next."
I said, "Look-I know this is difficult for you, but I get the feeling that there's something very wrong here, and I don't understand."
The Chinese girl said, "Wait a minute." She stepped into the bathroom and shut off the running water. When she came back, I was just tying my tie. She said, "Do you know what we call telepaths like Tanjy?"
I shook my head. "Carpetbaggers. "
"Carpetbaggers?"
"Mm hm. They take over your body, your house, your life for an evening. They get your body drunk, they take your body to bed with strangers, they get stains on your best silk dresses, they get sticky marshmallows all over your sheets and rugs, and then they disappear in the middle of the night, leaving you with a hangover, scraped legs, chafed elbows, a sore back, and three days of cleaning. Not the least of which is explaining it all to last night's trick."
"Can I help pay for the damages?" I asked, reaching for my wallet.
She stiffened. "I am not a whore, thank you. No, you may not. The service will cover any costs. Besides, it's not your fault. You're as much a victim of the carpetbagger as me."
I shoved my wallet back into my pocket. "Can I ask you one more thing?"
"Go ahead."
"Well-maybe this will sound stupid, but I thought-that is, Tanjy said that telepaths don't have much identity. That is, you don't have much attachment to body, house, clothes, that kind of stuff. But, you ... ?" I pointed around the room and shrugged and looked at her.
The Chinese girl looked annoyed again. "Right. That's the carpetbagger's justification again." She said, "The truth is that some telepaths do and some telepaths don't. My duties require me to stay local. Twice a month, I rejoin the network and go worldwide. I have work that has to be done on-site. That's the limit of my telepathic participation. I hate leaving my body in the pool, because I never know who's going to be in it while I'm gone or what damage they're going to do."
I stood there, feeling very guilty. I wanted to apologize, and at the same time-I didn't want to. I didn't want to admit that Tanjy/Ted-and I had been like two small boys playing with a girl's body while she wasn't home. I felt like the time my cousin and I had been caught looking in my sister's underwear drawer-only this was worse. Far worse. This time I didn't have a cousin here to share the blame. And we'd been playing with far more than her underwear.
I said, "Um, I understood-I mean, I was told that there were certain ... agreements between telepaths. "
Her eyes narrowed. "You don't understand anything, soldier."
"I guess not," I said. I picked up my hat. This Chinese girl was nasty. "Well, I'm sorry," I said. "I really am."
"Yes, you said that. You boys always say that. Now, if you don't mind, I'd like to take my bath. I want to feel clean again." Outside, on the street, I could feel my anger smoldering. Dammit! I felt dirty now too.
I should have punched him when I'd had
the chance-except it still would have been the Chinese girl who woke up with the bruise.
It wasn't fair!
Dammit! He'd done it to me again!
FORTY-TWO
THERE WAS a large security lockbox sitting on my desk. It opened to my thumbprint. Inside were three very fat mission books. Somebody had done a lot of work last night.
I spent most of the morning going through the books, my astonishment growing as I did so.
They'd listened to what I'd said.
The first book outlined how the military would deliver the presentation team to the target site and provide protection without being a physical presence. The choppers would be extensively camouflaged.
The second book described the duties of the observation team and how they would keep the physical presence of their monitoring devices to an absolute minimum.
The third book discussed what was known and wasn't known about the worms and the bunnies.
But it didn't say much about how to contact them.
I had an idea about that. It was something Ted/Tanjy had suggested. Listen with all your soul.
I tried to imagine sitting down and talking to a bunnydog. I couldn't. The best I could imagine was joining their cluster. Finally, I went to see Dr. Fletcher.
I stuck my head in her office door and knocked, "Got a moment?"
She looked up from the report she was studying. She had a sandwich in one hand. "Oh, James. Come on in. Did you read the books?"
"Yeah, that's why I'm here." I snagged a chair and sat down opposite her. "I assume I got the job."
"That was never the question," she said. "Do you want some tea?"
"Oh, today it's only tea, huh?"
"Hey-coffee's for special occasions. You're on the team now. I don't have to be nice to you any more." And then she asked, "What's the problem?"
I explained to her about the briefing books. There was nothing in them for me.
She put the last bite of sandwich into her mouth, nodded thoughtfully, waited until she finished chewing and wiped her fingers on a napkin. "Uh huh-and how would you make contact with the bunnydogs?" she finally asked.
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