However, I was kinda jazzed about the free, super advanced healthcare.
I watched with interest as the seirr loaded a clear, liquid-filled vial into what looked like a syringe, but with no needle. They pressed the head to my wrist, then depressed the end until the vial was empty.
Nothing happened for a moment, but then a cool, soothing feeling rushed through me, and my stinging thirst faded. I guessed that was their version of an IV. It was considerably faster and didn’t involve me being tethered to a stand that liked to topple over at any point, or a machine that screamed violent beeps every time its battery got too low.
I was all set for my own little learning experience in this reality’s modern medicine when the intern began prepping another vial. Oh, right. If I remembered correctly, that was a sedative.
“I should warn you,” I said, not sure if it was relevant or not. “I’m extremely susceptible to any form of sedation or narcotic. I only need a half dose at max.” I had no idea if these future medicines were built on the same rules as my world’s remedies, but it was better to be safe than sorry. I knew it was hard to believe, considering my size and all the procedures I’ve had done in my life, but even night time cold meds could knock me out for fourteen hours.
The intern looked from me, to their mentor, to me again.
“If your patient warns you of a sensitivity, listen. Apply a half dose, then we can reassess and increase the dosage later. In instances of non-emergency, it’s always important to be safe, rather than sorry.”
I let out a small breath I hadn’t been aware I had been holding, and the seirr continued their work. Just like before, they loaded a smaller vial, then pressed it to my wrist.
The result was practically instantaneous.
One minute, I was strapped in a chair in a galaxy that was not my own, worrying about reactions to sci-fi medication, and the next, it all just…didn’t matter.
You know what I wanted? A nap. A nap sounded great. I wanted to just close my eyes and drift off into the blissful relaxation of lala land.
‘This is who she was so obsessed with?’
My brow furrowed, and it felt like my mind was moving through molasses as it figured out who that voice belonged to. Slowly, I ticked through all the people I had heard speak in the room and realized it didn’t match anyone.
I cracked my eyes open to see they were all busy doing their things. Guards guarding. Medics, uh…medicking?
‘I mean, she looks imposing.’
‘Yeah, but we spent years waiting for that machine, and this is all she used it for before blowing it to pieces?’
Wait…no one around me was talking. Why was I hearing people talk? Hallucinating voices inside of a hallucination seemed like a bit of a stretch, so one of these things had to be real, right?
My head tipped forward, and it took me longer than I would like to admit that the lead seirr was moving it around to examine it with her techno-gizmo-whatever.
“Pelli, come here, please.”
Wait. I knew that tone. Although it felt like my brain was off somewhere, lightyears behind my body, I knew that tone. It was the doctor equivalent of an ‘uh-oh,’ which was not something I wanted to hear while I was strapped down in a medical chair.
The intern left my side, where I assumed she was monitoring my vitals to make sure I had been telling the truth about my sensitivity, then joined the lead seirr at my head.
“What does this look like to you?”
“A subdermal hematoma, with a very, very slow bleed. The rings of darker blood indicate that this injury has been through several periods of growth, so I would guess childhood trauma.”
“W-wait,” I mumbled, putting all of my brain power into moving my lips. It was surprisingly difficult to coordinate my tongue and jaw at the same time. They definitely had some good drugs in space land. “S-s-subdermal hematoma? I’ve been getting c-checked since I was a kid because of chronic mi-m-mi-m…headaches.”
There was silence behind me for several beats. “You still get headaches?”
“Yeah. You say that like it’s weird.” I gasped and tried to look back at them, but it was growing increasingly difficult to move my body. “Oh, my god, did you guys cure headaches?”
More silence, then quiet conferring that I couldn’t quite catch.
“Where are you from, Prisoner LL-69852?”
“That’s a mouthful, just call me Andi.”
“Where are you from?”
I shrugged. Or at least attempted to. It was more like a confined shimmy in the chair and pulled upon my knowledge of the books I had read. “Outer world. Like out, out. Out, out, out.”
The Seirr in charge nodded to the intern, who circled back to my side and began loading up another vial into her cartridge.
“Wait, what are you doing? I’m already pretty loopy. I’m not consenting to any more d-d-drugs…” I trailed off as she pressed it to my wrist once more, and another wave of exhaustion flooded me. Certainly, it couldn’t be so bad to just stop talking and drift off for a while, right? Humming to myself, I slid down into the warm sleep enveloping me.
I could worry about what they were going to do tomorrow.
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Ralis 1st, 4702
Hello. My mother gave me this data-log today and told me I was to treat you as a diary. I do not think I need a diary, but both she and my therapist think it will help me practice my interactions with others.
I do not think I need to practice my interaction with others either. The children around me are boring, and the adults patronizing. I would rather read, draw, or play with Andi.
Now that I’m writing to you, I realize this may be a tactic to distance me from Andi. They think it odd that I, a gifted child, would still have an imaginary friend. I suppose it would be less strange to them if they knew she was real, but I do not know how to prove her veracity to them yet.
Oh, I suppose I should actually introduce myself to you. Not that you are a sentient being, but I researched how diaries are supposed to be used, and the most common utilization is to treat you as an always listening friend and confidant. I suppose that’s meant to be comforting, but I feel it makes me rather paranoid.
Either way, I will try to comply with my mother’s wishes as best I can. I know it is hard to have a child like me. Most children laugh, and joke, and squeal with delight at the colored lights of the holo-projector. But I always want to know why, and how.
Anyway, my name is Jyraxic-Vyrinnza, but you can call me Jyra. I prefer that, actually. I was born on Latier to my human mother and half-sierr father. They’re not sure if my intellectual abilities come from his side or a mutation in their genes combining, but I suppose that’s one of the few things I’m not curious about. I know I’m smart; I have too many other things to discover to worry about why.
I’m nine-years-old, but I am aware I am not like the others around me. It doesn’t bother me too much, but sometimes it is a bit lonely. That is why I am so grateful for Andi.
I should probably tell you about her. She’s my best friend in the entire world, except I don’t think she’s really in this world at all. Don’t get me wrong, she’s real. Definitely real. She’s just… real somewhere else.
I can’t really explain it, but one day I would like to. Maybe one day I’ll be smart enough. But for now, I accept the strange world she tells me about. Apparently, their space is very far away and only special people go there. Also, all her people live on a singular planet. It’s quite fascinating in a backward kind of way, but what I love most of all is all the art she shows me.
She has books of it! Page after page of fighting, flying, and contorting figures. And they’re not depictions of light either, but rather real, actual pigmentati
on on a physical surface. I would give anything to hold one of those in my hands and breathe in the smell of creation and dust.
Anyway, I think that is enough talking for now. I do not want you to get bored of me right away. I find myself already projecting my personality onto you, which is quite an interesting phenomenon. I hope you don’t turn out to be a bitch.
That would be terribly disappointing.
With cautious familiarity,
Jyra
Ralis 9th, 4702
I apologize for neglecting you for so long. A lot has happened.
For starters, I got into the gifted school that my parents had applied to. I must admit, I am… less than enthusiastic. I mean, I love learning, and I am certainly excited for the abundance of learning opportunities, but I can already tell that they’re going to try to make me get rid of Andi.
And I had another meeting with my therapist. He asked if he could read my first entry – if I was comfortable with it. I agreed, of course. I have very little to hide. My father jokes that maybe one day I’ll be smart enough to learn how to lie, but I very much doubt that.
But back to my therapist. He sat there, neutral as usual. His dark eyes regarded my dictated words slowly and surely. In fact, it was so slow, I found myself getting edgy while I sat there, watching him dissect my inner thoughts. I was surprised at how invasive it all felt, and I found myself suddenly wishing I had never agreed to it at all.
When he finished, I felt relieved as he handed you back. I held the data-log to my chest like a precious secret, and who knows, maybe you’re becoming just that. And then he looked at me with those dark, dark eyes that were so full of studies and what was known that he could never see beyond that like me. Like Andi.
“Perhaps you should write in it more like a story. Less like you talking to a friend, and more like a recording of situations and how they made you feel.”
Of course, I agreed, nodding my head obediently. Strangely, it wasn’t until I was out of his room and taking the shuttle back home that I realized they were probably going to continue to use it to observe my progress.
I didn’t like that idea.
So, I did the only sensible thing a girl in my situation could do. I went home, rummaged enough parts up in my workshop, and made a dummy data-log. The poor thing is going to have an unfortunate accident tomorrow, and then Mother will be forced to replace it. You’ll remain hidden, and no one will be the wiser.
I’ll write things in the new one every now and then. Mostly what they want to hear. But my true thoughts will go in you. I’m sorry for hoping you might be a bitch previously. I see now that that was me projecting my insecurities about being able to forge friendships onto you. After all, you’re just a digital representation of words, not a thinking, living being.
But still, it’s nice to pretend. I’ll have much to tell you soon, I’m sure of it.
Your new friend,
Jyra
Ralis 20th, 4702
I.
Hate.
This.
School.
For a building that is purported to be a place of learning, I feel as if I as I am no more educated now than when I started.
It all started out well enough. I walked into the stark, white building with the chrome accents, and sat in a class with stark, white walls and chrome accents, in a desk of white with chrome accents. It was all very cog in the machine, even if we are supposed to be the cogs that are more self-aware.
It was Meeysela who spoke to me first. She was a beautiful sierr girl with lavender-grey skin and massive, jet-black eyes. I could feel her gaze on me from the moment I sat down, and I foolishly returned it.
“Hello, my name is Jyra. Pleased to make your acquaintance.”
See? I was polite! So polite. Social norms dictate that she politely declare her identity back, but she didn’t. It upsets me when people break the rules. Conversations are like equations; you can’t just run off all willy-nilly with them. There are protocols, laws, standards…
Oh dear, I’m getting a bit carried away. Let me try telling the story again.
“Hello, my name is Jyra. Pleased to make your acquaintance.”
“You have hair.”
I nodded. “Yes. I am glad to see your ability to make and state observances is intact. That will be most useful in your education.”
“So, you’re some half-kin then, yeah?”
I sensed something a bit off in her tone, but I couldn’t deduct why, so I ignored it. It was odd that someone in a gifted school would ask me such an obvious question, but perhaps her strengths laid not in the sciences, but in music, art, or language. There were many ways to be exceptional, after all. It was not my place to judge that hers might be different from mine.
“Yes. My mother is human, and my father is a second-generation half-kin.”
I realize that you may not know what any of this means. Most likely because you aren’t real, but I will explain for posterity’s sake.
The sierr are a beautiful, multicolored race that can survive in both aquatic and terra firma environments. They have three sexes: hie, tiem, and hier.
The hie were very similar to human males, but they could fertilize both tiem and hier as well as lay eggs. However, they were not able to self-fertilize. They were generally the largest and most athletic sex with the shortest lifespan.
The hier were similar to human females, able to carry children and give birth to live offspring. They were unable to fertilize other sexes, and were generally the smallest-framed sex, but with the longest lifespan.
And lastly was the tiem. They were similar to human females in silhouette, but could not carry unborn children or lay eggs. I had read that, upon human’s first integration into this system, them were sometimes referred to as the ‘bombshell’ sex, as they had visually appealing placement of adipose favored by both humans and krelach. This extra fat was an evolutionary trait as the tiem evolved as hunters who could dive much deeper into the dark waters of Latier than the other sexes to bring home bigger game for those bearing or protecting children.
But perhaps the most notable physical trait of the sierr is that they do not have hair. That is solely a trait of those who have bloodlines mixed with that of humans – i.e., me. Now, during the first generation of half-kin, there was much discrimination, and many terrible things happened. But that had been over two hundred years ago.
In fact, half-kin won the right to be recognized as full citizens of the United Council of Systems the year after I was born. So, how was I to expect what happened next?
“Then you’re basically a human.”
I titled my head and looked at her curiously. “No, I am a quarter sierr and three quarters human.”
“Whatever.” She made a dismissive sound in the back of her throat and looked forward. “Just keep your nasty hair to yourself. I thought this was a school for superior children.”
I know now that I shouldn’t have responded, but it was a lesson learned too late. “Gifted. Not superior.” I corrected. “Extraordinary abilities do not make any citizen superior or more deserving of rights. Intellectual elitism helps no one.”
She looked at me again, her beautiful, obsidian eyes unfeeling, empty, and depthless. Then, slowly, her brow furrowed, and she reached over to shove my pack with all my data-logs and supplies onto the floor.
Although, logically, I knew dropping items was not a particularly egregious act, I felt as if all the eyes in the room were on me. It was then that I realized that there was only one other half-kin in the entire room, looking at me with pity in a sea of bemused gazes.
Keeping my face blank, I bent down to pick up my things. It seemed that the very first lesson I was going to learn in these scholarly halls was one that I should have known long ago.
I did not belong.
And I never would.
I arranged myself back into my seat, this time setting my things out of my classmate’s reach, when I felt a familiar rush of energy and shifting of rea
lity.
“Whoa! What is this place?”
I looked to my right to see a human girl. She was what my mother called ‘quintessentially adorable,’ with pale skin and a round face with chubby cheeks that were dotted with freckles and framed by wild curls of red hair. She was wearing strange clothes that looked like they were spun of fibers rather than fabricated from plastic or other synthetic materials.
“School,” I murmured quietly.
“Huh?” the hei in front of me asked, turning in his chair. His skin was a pale yellow, with fading camouflage markings of ocher and umber.
“Nothing,” I muttered.
“Write it down,” Andi said. “Make it look like you’re taking notes or something.”
I nodded and took out a different data-pad.
‘This is the new gifted school I was talking about,’ I said in my head to Andi.
“Ooooh, shiny. I like it.”
‘I don’t think I do.’
“Why’s that?”
‘Later. How is he doing?’
“Eh. Asleep now. Work’s been driving him pretty hard, so he hasn’t been around much.”
‘I see. Do you–‘
Her head jerked to the side, and reality rippled around her, allowing me a peek into the room around her. The walls were an old, depressing grey, and I recognized what had to be a few toys at her feet.
“Heck, he’s up now. It’s the weekend. I gotta go. Catcha later, kay?”
I nodded again.
“Sweet. Be safe now, Gee-Gee.”
Another nod, and then she was gone.
I wish I could tell you that things got better. That other classmates stepped in to stop any more harassment, or that my new acquaintance realized the error of their ways. But that would be lying, and I haven’t quite learned how to do that yet.
The Return (Alternate Dimensions Book 5) Page 15
