by Gary Tarulli
“Is the audio file available?”
“Should be.”
The voice recognition in Thompson’s cabin does a good job of converting conversations into text form. The file, along with each speaker’s name and voice level, was immediately accessible at my workstation for me to hear and/or visually scan. Where indicated, the program extrapolates and brackets incomplete information. I’m able to read at three times the speed of normal conversation. For that reason, and to spare Kelly from repeating an apparently unpleasant experience, I decided to turn off the audio portion of the following file:
Recording commenced 0804hours 12-12-2232
Melhaus(61db): Is this necessary?
Thompson(57db): Sit down, please. You know the purpose of this recorded meet[ing]?
Melhaus(61db): The purpose and the outcome.
Thompson(56db): Truly? Have we arrived at the point where all discourse between us is rendered useless?”
Melhaus(63db): In this circumstance, yes. Your main presumption is patently false: That you understand me better than I understand myself.
Thompson(60db): Is that never possible? That you alone contradict the results of four hundred years of clinical case studies demonstrating we don’t always completely understand ourselves?
Melhaus(62db): Which calls into question your objectivity, would it not?
Thompson(60db): And Dr. Takara’s as well?
Takara(56db): Larry, we’re not presuming to judge you. We have seen changes in your behavior that are, in our reasoned opinion, an outgrowth of the extraordinary stress placed on you from any number of causes. Our opinion has been confirmed by oth[ers]…
Melhaus(66db): By whom?! By Mr. Lorenzo?! His credentials are more laughable than even yours: A handful of psychology courses and, oh yes, an author of short stories. If you respect his opinion so much, then apply his, what did he call it, [laughter] sanctuary theory to yourselves. You remember it, don’t you? The undue stress you speak of could be manifesting itself in any member of the crew and be affecting their behavior. And their judgment, inclusive of yours.
Thompson(57db): Attempting to redirect this discussion won’t work, Larry.
Melhaus(62db): So what exactly are you people accusing me of?
Thompson(57): Poor choice of words.
Melhaus(62): My choice of words.
Takara(58db): Rather than get into specifics, I’d prefer to generalize your behavior as alternating between argumentative and withdrawn.
Melhaus(65db): Argumentative? Is that what questioning ill-conceived decisions, and there have been several, is being called?
Thompson(57db): When have I not solicited opposing viewpoints? Very few decisions are made without the entire crew’s participation, including yours, which I’ve always welcomed.
Melhaus(62db): And I have been overruled on almost every point. Do you have any concept of just how difficult it is to be forced into watching all of you let the scientific discovery of our age slip through our fingers?
Takara(58db): You’re setting yourself apart from the crew, Larry, and you shouldn’t.
Melhaus(62db): Is this some kind of retribution for what you think happened to the Ixodes, despite proof offered to the contrary?
Thompson(57): You surprise me. Is that how you see it?
Melhaus(65db): That’s when I started taking notice of what you’re doing behind my back, undermining me and, in the process, the mission.
Thompson(57): That’s quite an accusation. Would you care to elaborate?
Melhaus(62db): In your absence, am I not second in command? You think I didn’t notice when you chose to marginalize me by putting Bertrand and Takara in charge during your escapade in the water?
Thompson(61db): If you don[’t]…
Melhaus(65db): You believed you had me fooled? You and the crew, afterward—when I heard you scheming behind my back?
Thompson(61db): We shouldn’t interrupt one another, wouldn’t you agree? What I was about to say was this: That you see our actions as suspect because you don’t accept the premise on which they rest, the concern we have for you based on changes seen in your behavior.
Takara(58db): And Larry, by overhearing a fragment of a conversation, you may have come away with the wrong impression.
Melhaus(68db): Why lie to my face?! Isn’t the purpose of this meeting to coerce me into accepting a drug I refuse to take?!
Takara(58db): I’m sorry you feel that way. Have you asked yourself why you are having such a hostile reaction to taking a mild tranquillizer, one that I, as ship’s doctor, strongly recommend?
Melhaus(65db): You’re a fool or take me for one. Take a drug on your advice? To do so will give credence to everything you’ve alleged against me.
Thompson(61db): Dr. Takara’s recommendation is measured and justified. As mission leader I am asking you to comply.
Melhaus(65db): And I am completely within my rights to refuse your request. I thoroughly researched Desio’s AI. Even you can’t invent a reason to side-step regulations; you must establish that a crew member has a mental disorder and lacks the capacity to make an informed decision regarding the medication proposed.
Thompson(61db): Well, then, I see no need to further pursue the matter. You are correct. The standard of proof for compelling a patient to undergo treatment with a psych drug is high, justifiably so in most situations, and I am required to follow it. However, the standard is not nearly so high for my taking other initiatives, and I intend to do so in what I hope you come to see as a measured response to your intractability. I am confining you to quarters until twelve hundred hours. Take the time to reflect. Maybe that will have a tranquilizing effect on your behavior.
Melhaus(70db): Confining me to quarters?! By doing so you’re further jeopardizing the outcome of this mission! If I refuse?!
Thompson(57db): Consider carefully what you say, Dr. Melhaus. You risk provoking a much sterner response.
Melhaus(67db): And you expect what of me when I’m released from this forced imprisonment?
Thompson(58db): At a minimum, civility toward your fellow crewmembers.
Melhaus(04db): You’ll g[et] what you [dez]…
Recording concluded 0810 hours 12-12-2232
“That was pretty intense,” I said. And pretty damn worrisome, I thought.
“The worst I’ve seen him.”
“You handled the situation well.”
“Thompson better. I think he went through the possible scenarios before. Came into the meeting prepared, expecting Melhaus to be confrontational. Only….”
“What? You seem a bit unsure of the outcome.” Leaving the workstation, I went over to the bed and sat down next to her. We leaned back together, Angie coming up to nestle tightly between us.
“Do you believe we pushed Larry even further away?” Kelly asked.
“Only time will tell. Did Thompson have another alternative?”
“Yes. To let him be.”
“Keep in mind the discord among the prior crew. He’d be open to criticism for doing nothing while Larry unraveled. I see why Thompson appeared a little edgy this morning. He was doing what you and I are, looking ahead, trying to anticipate Larry’s behavior going forward. And now he has more to ponder over: What, if anything, to read into Larry’s last statement.”
A confused expression appeared on Kelly’s face.
“What do you mean?”
It was my turn to be confused.
“Larry’s last remark. Responding to Thompson’s demand to be civil. You didn’t hear it?”
“No.”
I moved off the bed. Beginning to understand what happened, I returned to the workstation.
“I assume neither you nor Thompson had the time or inclination to play back the audio?”
She shook her head, concern and confusion, in equal measure, narrowing and darkening her eyes, turning down the corners of her mouth.
Raising the audio volume to full, I replayed the last few seconds of the file I had just finishe
d reading. Melhaus’s final statement was barely audible.
“Come take a look,” I said.
Kelly leaned over me to read the last few sentences of the transcript, then said, “I thought he mumbled something under his breath when exiting Thompson’s cabin.”
“The recording system was sensitive enough to pick up Larry’s voice; the ship’s AI performed an incomplete conversion to text. Question is, how accurately?”
“For confirmation, I’d like to hear you repeat what he said out loud.”
“‘You’ll get what you deserve.’” The words had a chilling effect.
“Yes,” Kelly said with an exasperated sigh. “I was afraid of that.” She returned to the safe harbor of the bed. “I was the one there,” she finally said, the implied threat beginning to sink in. “I should be the one to bring this to Thompson’s attention.”
“A garbled and cryptic statement said in anger. Not much for him to act on.”
“And insufficient to use as proof positive that Larry has become a threat to others. Nevertheless, this makes me increasingly uneasy.”
“Would it help any if I pointed out that Larry continues to have a very ordered and logical mind? He must realize, at least we can hope, that any hostile act adversely affecting the crew would undoubtedly affect him also.” The attempt at optimism was not very convincing. “Perhaps I am better at pessimism?” I quipped, trying to cheer her.
“You can’t change the reality of a situation.”
Kelly laid back and petted Angie, who was happily gnawing a rawhide bone.
“You forget my chosen profession. I can change reality at will.” Angie stopped gnawing, placed her head on her paws, and gave me an inquisitive look. “My two favorites,” I said, joining them on the bed.
“Why did you first major in communications?” Kelly asked.
The change of topic, the question, caught me off-guard.
“Are you searching for one more piece of the jigsaw puzzle named Kyle?”
“I want to know everything about you. Every one of the thousand little pieces.”
“Nine hundred ninety-nine. One’s missing from the box.”
“Tell me. Why communications?”
The answer to the question, never before put into words, wasn’t exactly a tale of woe, but wasn’t that pleasant to me either.
“Please.”
There was something in the way Kelly voiced that one word that made me want to tell her, and my wanting to tell her, I realized, was more important to her than the story itself.
“OK,” I said, and watched her eyes brighten. “But for now, will you settle for the short version of what I call my deformative years?”
“I’m happy to hear any version.”
“When I was fourteen or fifteen my brother left for college, leaving me alone with two very incompatible and argumentative people, namely, my parents. What I remember most vividly was the three of us sitting at the dinner table. How eerily quiet it was.”
“But I thought you said they argued…?”
“Oh, my parents argued, but only sporadically, and when they did I intently listened. I remember thinking to myself, as words said in anger went flying back and forth, back and forth: Why can’t they understand each other’s point of view?
“Some of the arguments had a logical basis, like about money; other times, it boiled down to not understanding one another’s feelings. Whatever the reason, they almost never got through to each other. So what did they do to resolve the impasse? Nothing. As the anger stewed, my mom would cook dinner, as always, and we’d sit, the three of us, evenly separated at the small round table, in the small square kitchen, in the small suburban house, and the dreaded silence would descend.”
“That’s awful. No talking at all?”
“Virtually none. Only the minimum words necessary for any three people, even strangers, to coexist. My parents were both too stubborn to speak and I was a teenager stranded in the middle.”
“This went on until the next day, the next argument?”
“Oh, no, the silence would drag on, quite literally, for several weeks at a time. More noticeable, much more, when I was marooned with them at the dinner table.”
“I’m sorry.”
“They say never argue in front of the children. There were times my parents turned that adage into an art form. Anyway, after a year or two of this, college was on the horizon. You can see why, although it wasn’t a conscious decision at the time, communications, plus a smattering of psych for good measure, would be an outgrowth of what went on before.”
Kelly looked sad, the story affecting her more than me. “You’re aware that the effect of this abuse, and that’s what it was, has to be on more than your choice of study,” she said.
“I’ve given it considerable attention. Why wouldn’t I, since living through that whole silent treatment thing made me a bit antisocial and a tad introspective.”
“Kyle! Introspective? Just a tad?”
“You want more?” I said with exaggerated astonishment.
“Come on, you can do it, you can do it…!” Kelly, half serious, half playing, was urging me on to a further revelation.
I played along. The most serious playacting I likely would ever do. “Internalizing? That’s it! I internalize my emotions!”
“Veir merkink gutten progress, ja?”
“Not bad,” I said, referring to the accent. “Affectation, or should I say mockery, of a German accent, in English language, by a native of Japan, who was raised in Los Angeles.”
“That has to be a first on Orb, don’t you think?” Kelly responded. Not waiting for a reply she suddenly rose from the bed. “To be continued. I must be off to see Thompson. Any message?”
I scanned the floor, and spotted what I was searching for: Something now resembling a slightly damp and bunched rag, lying in the corner of my cabin.
“No,” I said. “But can you return this T-shirt Angie stole off his bed?”
As she turned to leave I kissed her, saying, “Don’t worry about Dr. Melhaus. Yes, he’s all of our responsibility, but more so Thompson’s. I feel confident he’s up to the challenge.”
I leaned against the open doorway and watched her head off down the narrow hall. Amazing how someone that sensitive wants to be with the likes of me.
Or am I so atypical? I guess we all have emotional baggage weighing us down, mine being no heavier than most. And while Kelly’s burden conceivably is less, and Melhaus’s conceivably is more, every so often it’s a good idea to unlatch the suitcase, as Kelly helped me do, and attempt to peek at what’s inside. Fine, but what are your chances of reaching in and actually removing something to lighten the load? When your world has the gravity of Jupiter, it’s the same chance as hauling a steamship trunk up a mountain. I sadly remembered a friend who took his own life. His chance was zero.
Tragedy is it didn’t have to be. Not always. Talking to someone is a start. Music. Art. For a very few, writing. Some form of expression.
A way to communicate.
Right, Thompson wants a plan. Well, we all need a plan. Am I missing a connection right here on Orb?
I heard the faint sound of whining at my feet and there was Angie, staring up at me with her beady little eyes and her mouth crammed full with a stuffed toy rabbit. I sat with my back against the bulkhead opposite the open doorway and threw the rabbit into the hall.
Play began.
My little dog Angie had straightforward, uncomplicated needs: Food, space to live and breathe, time to play and romp. Most important, she had need of affection. Call them simple, but that sounds condescending, for they are very much the same needs we have, only reduced to their uncomplicated essence. And with a bark, a meaningful stare, or a nuzzling, she nearly always received or gave what was wanted.
Two doors down, in a soundproof cabin, sat Doctor Larry Melhaus, not feeling anywhere near as satisfied or communicative.
Ambassador Angie
KELLY AND I agreed to tempor
arily postpone a visit to the cove in order to be on hand in the off chance there was a flare-up of tension when Melhaus was released from his confinement at 1200 hours. At precisely 1300 hours he emerged as if nothing happened. I attributed the extra hour to pride: He could damn well stay in his cabin as long as he wished to do so.
At 13:05 I approached Thompson, asking: “Did Melhaus see his shadow when he came out?”
“Well, yes, I do believe he did,” Thompson responded, playing along.
“Damn,” I said. “Six more weeks of winter.”
This was pretty accurate. As the afternoon progressed, the physicist engaged in only minimal and constrained conversation with the rest of the crew. Sufficient, no more, to satisfy Thompson’s basic requirement for civil personal conduct, enough for me to facetiously comment to Kelly (but I wasn’t too far wrong) that his behavior was becoming reminiscent of my parents’ at the kitchen table.
Logic dictated (that with little time left on the planet) Melhaus would not want to jeopardize his research by behaving in a manner that would precipitate another confinement. As for the implied threat he made—if that’s what it was—Thompson decided to let it go.
