Weathering Storms

by Taborri Walker

  They were all in the Reverend’s kitchen, working on something for Sesha to eat. Like an eager child she was into everything, sampling all and sundry. Several things were moved from her reach as she sat in another chair brought in for her use downstairs. Flour made her cough, but then she had an idea.

  The women were making broth; the chicken meat was set to the side as it cooled to be chopped later. A basket of fresh eggs was there, so she demanded attention.

  “Wan’ tup,” she spoke up and heads turned.

  “A cup?” one was held out and she shook her head, the cupped her hands together. “Oh, a bowl. Do you want some soup?”

  “No,” that word was so clear, “wan,” she made stirring motions and rejected everything until a fork was given, so she had to learn that word. The flour barrel was still close enough to reach so she put in a handful, then held out her hand. “Egg-a?” ticking off three fingers, so they handed her one egg at a time, counting. Like a good girl she counted back, broke each on into the bowl, handing back the shells. Whisking with the fork she made a slightly runny dough.

  Now how to tell them what to do. “Um, soup wah-ter,”

  “Broth,” Beulah smiled, “yes, we’re making that.”

  “Preat,” she pointed to the pot, then made gestures for smaller. “In, in.”

  “Get a small pot, Pricilla… put some in it.” It was showed to Sesha, who pointed a bit higher, so more was added.

  “Onna fy-er,” and made boiling sounds.

  “To boil,” the young woman smiled and put it over the flame.

  Picking up a spoon, Sesha dipped some of her concoction out, gestured towards the small pot and used her finger to push the blob off. Then she handed the bowl over. Pricilla did as Sesha wanted and in short order there was a wonderful smelling egg drop soup, so the women all sat down and shared it.

  After ‘activities’ like this Sesha would grow sleepy, then they would take her back to bed. Sesha knew this would be the pattern for several more days at least, and so it was.

  Gotta keep being afraid of the men, especially, Sesh. The shakes and crying are wonderful, the jumps and little shrieks are good but they’re relaxing, getting bolder around you.

  Even with the women having to come to my ‘comfort’ as fast as they can, or trying to hide?

  It’s all right, yes, and a few of the Monitors have learned to knock and call out first, but the worst still just come into whatever room you’re in. It needs to escalate, something bad enough to give you a bit of a setback.

  Okay then, Sesha yawned; it was just past time she was usually asleep but Florence had been massaging her legs. It was a concern to the Doctor that they were still weak; it was real, to Sesha’s serious annoyance. The computer told her when she’d fallen on the BrainPan floor that nerves in her spine had been damaged and only the chemical reactions her brain gave in time of extreme stress kept her going as long as she had. Once she’d gotten knocked out for the ride to the City, that had stopped and the damage set in. Comp was sure with time she’d regain full use but for now Sesha really was crippled.

  After breakfast, she was carried to the Sitting room again and in some pain and cold from the massage and bath, was bundled in blankets despite the warmth of the day.

  Grace, Maria and Bethany were sitting with her in the room, weaving and sewing and talking slowly to her.

  “This be sewing,” Grace told her, making motions with the needle, beaming when Sesha repeated the word. “And this is thread.” Now Sesha had trouble with the ‘th’ sound, making the women giggle a bit and try again with careful lip motions. So Sesha didn’t ‘see’ the Reverend come in, looking for his wife.

  “Ladies,” his voice boomed. Their heads swiveled and Sesha let out a loud, terrified scream! She threw herself sideways off the chair, hitting the floor hard, then tried to scramble away, her legs doing not nearly enough. The three women threw down their work; Marie and Bethany rushed to the hysterical woman and engulfed her in their arms, shushing and crooning to bring her out of her fright.

  “What be this?” With Grace waving at him, a finger on her lips, the man did at least lower his voice volume.

  “Most Holy Lord Reverend,” she hastened to whisper, “young Sesha affrights most easily. Even we women must ensure to announce our arrivals, lest she be thrown into chaos again. And we keep our voices soft yet, our motions slow for she jumps quite often, even at God’s miraculous shadows.”

  “Ah,” he said softly, looking over as the women ‘calmed’ Sesha. When he saw her finally manage to look up, he spoke again. “Miss Sesha,” never had these women heard his voice so tender! “I doth profoundly exculpate for the digression, causing thee to blench. Our portance shalt amend forthwith, being not unrespective to thee, especially if thou art not sleeping.”

  Still curled in Marie and Bethany arms, barely peeking out of the blankets and looked at him, total confusion on her face so Marie said “we,” she gestured at all of them, “knock,” she tapped the floor with her fist, “Marie here! So you,” she pointed to Sesha, “not afraid,” she screwed up her face to look the part. “Yes?”

  “Ye-ess,” she acknowledged, knowing that word.

  “The lass shoulds’t be given discernment in the language of the Most High God,” he quietly reproved Grace.

  “Most Holy Lord Reverend,” head down, hands folded in front of her, Grace made quiet answer. “The child speaks a language unknown e’en to the City’s well-traveled Leech. We teach her as we do the babes, as spoken in the book of Timothy, ‘And the servant of the Lord must not strive; but be gentle unto all men, apt to teach, patient’, and there be hope, Sir, for does not Isaiah say ‘Whom shall he teach knowledge? and whom shall he make to understand doctrine? them that are weaned from the milk, and drawn from the breasts.’ ”

  “As the Lakin Sesha be unknowing of any of our ways, thy choices are most blessed, given by the Teacher himself. Continue therefore in the path He hath shown thee.”

  “Yes, m’lord,” all three chimed, and when he left after tenderly touching Sesha’s cheek – even with one finger she flinched, so he cooed and she allowed it – they all shuddered, Sesha too, curling her lip and wiping her cheek hard. “Bed time,” Florence commanded and the younger women, now skilled in lifting the slender, petite woman, got her up and back in bed where Florence did her nighttime back and leg rub.

  Sesha “learned” a word or two every day, and in reality she did. Oh, she really was learning it. She’d already learned a lot of words the day she crept into camp and watched the torture. She’d also learned words while lying “unconscious” in the room. In reality, she already had a good grasp of English – now the ninth language in her repertoire -- but she’d leave the translator on too, as long as possible before her computer memory filled up. So every couple days when the bucket of seawater was delivered, Sesha would get one or both arms in it, as if playing with it. So they let her and she was happy.

  “I wonder,” Florence yawned as she and Beulah traded shifts, “if the blow to her head didn’t cause her to relive more youthful days. She seems so very innocent and naïve of even common things.”

  “I’ve thought that too,” they both looked as Sesha sighed, the smell of breakfast waking her up. “Perhaps as it heals she’ll recover. Did it seep any last night?”

  “None, not a drop.”

  “Good… perhaps after the injury seals up, she’ll show improvement.” They kissed cheeks and parted.

  In the meantime, the rest and care was helping heal Sesha’s injuries for real. But progress on her back was slow and she truly feared for getting an infection – and she hadn’t thought about using a systemic antibiotic before leaving all aspects of her technologically advanced civilization.

  Luckily part of your spectrum of injections includes a few blood bugs that battle the worst of these diseases until you reach proper medical care. As it is, it won’t be long before those overwhelm them, then your system and kill you.

  She just had to hop
e for the best while she figured out how to finish her task. In the mean time she kept subtle pushes that kept the city’s attention more and more on her.

  “Good morning, Sesha,” Beulah came in as she lay flat on her left – Gem – side, gown undone and her right leg pushed up to her chest. The child didn’t look happy but perked up some when Beulah bent and kissed her. “What, Florence?”

  “Twisted in the night – a bad dream – and is in pain. Rubbing and stretching the muscles helps and I have a bucket of hot water on the way to lay warm cloths on it. Been at it three hours now,” Florence yawned. “The goodness to this is the lass is speaking more, most her language but she has learned three more words.”

  “Go to bed my beloved Aunt. Sesha will be fine.” As the Physician left, a teenaged boy came in with the bucket of water, a smaller boy with more thick cloth. Before that instant though, Beulah whisked the blanket up to her chin so they saw nothing.

  Later in the Sitting Room, Sesha begged to be put in the patch of sunlight. “F’oor, p’ease,” she asked, trying to push out of the chair.

  They helped her down and then helped again as she struggled to push the covers off, the nightgown adjusted so the light fell on her back. It was hot and strong, making her sigh with the wonderful feeling.

  Miss the sun, huh?

  Have to figure out a way for them to start taking me outside, Shni.

  You know they wear those bonnets and shawls all the time. They’ll put them on you.

  And I’ll take them off until they give up.

  Shni laughed and hugged her mind’s image, she hugging back. At least that doesn’t hurt here. Glad of that.

  The warmth of the sun energized her enough to be interested in what they were doing. More women were coming in, ones she didn’t know, hauling a large cloth weighed down with something. Leah held Sesha’s hand and said names of the women, all who would take a moment to smile and greet her. The cloth was lowered; there was a mass of some kind of whitish vegetable in it. Several empty buckets were set down too and knives were handed out, along with planks of wood.

  “Wha’ do-in’” Sesha kept her language ‘accented’ and would, for the most part.

  “This,” Beulah handed her one, clean and a bit damp, “is a sugar beet. We will chop,” pointing with her knife to three of the women already doing that, and repeated “chop. Then boil,” Sesha knew that word too and nodded, “mash,” she made the motion, “boil the juice all gone to make sugar.”

  “Shoo-gar,” nodding happily, Sesha ‘knew’ what that was. The women made talk while Sesha was shifted around as the sunlight moved, letting it warm all parts of her body. Finished, the chopped beets were piled in the cloth, the trash parts in buckets and the knives and cutting boards tossed out the window where boys waiting far enough back would collect them.

  Saying goodbyes made Sesha ‘sad’ again and when she was lifted to her chair, let her eyes water up and spill some tears while she watched the group go, then turned her eyes towards the ocean.

  “Sesha dear,” Beulah shoved her skirts to the side – damn the man that he reverse fashions just as women were moving into new patterns! At least the homespun muslin, gauze and cotton were fairly light as the weather here was so hot usually, their three petticoats were barely there, but it didn’t look like it. One of the congregation had made outfits for the Gentry and had heard of new ideas beginning to be used. And over the years here, slowly, some things had been reworked for comfort, such as collars and sleeves. She wondered how Sesha would take to these heavy dresses and all such truck…

  “Talk to me? Tell me the bad things? Try?” with gestures and facial expressions Sesha understood, if she truly were a foreigner.

  Grace had come in just that moment with some things for Beulah to do but hearing this, sat down too and patted her knee for comfort. Ruth and Hannah stayed to the side quietly sewing clothes for younger children, listening intently.

  “Um,” Sesha looked down at her hands, then back up to her caregivers. “Me, odder boy, boy, boy, guh-rl,” she ticked off on her fingers until she reached 19. “We go,” here she added some words from her other bank of languages, making it sound exotic.

  “The, uh, kel, beeg,” she moved her hands as if in a boat going across water.

  “On a trip?” Beulah pointed to the water.

  “Yesss – on bahay-- ”

  “Ship?”

  “Yesss – shee-ip, we go day, day, day – “ She laid her face on folded hands, then lifted her head up, her eyes wide, then repeated the two gestures again.

  “On a long trip? It took many days?”

  “Yesss – we go from far away, uh,” and she dissolved into tears and the gibberish of a foreign language, then “boom!” flinging out her hands. “Allu dere, dere, dere,” she moved her hands around as if people dashing about. “Me,” she grimaced, grabbing her back, gesturing to thighs and head, then “s’eep, s’eep, den Bee-lah.”

  Clever… you really told what actually happened without mentioning anything else. But when you can reveal your true self you’ll have to explain the thing you did with the cloth and water.

  Was enough awake to hear what they were saying so I showed them that. But yea… this is the first actual asking. And I’ve recorded the whole thing for playback, but Sesh… we’re getting short on memory.

  Damn… isn’t there some kind of program that can compress it way down?

  Yes… remember that horrid mathematical equation they force-fed your brain after the Gem was attached?

  Never forget it, she groaned.

  “Sesha?” a hand on her cheek broke her from talking to Shni. “Wish to go back to bed?”

  Shaking her head no, Sesha pulled the blankets over herself and face, curling up on the floor. When other hands tried to adjust the covers, she shook her head no and tugged back.

  “Leave her be for now,” Beulah said quietly. “She needs to mourn the tragedy. We’ll wait until she gives sign of wanting us.”

  You have to have the whole pad up to type it in, Sesh. But to get the formula active in your head, you have to type in the password first. Do you remember it, cuz it wasn’t given to us Programs.

  Tail-paste of the Ackermari First Stench Beast! It was supposed to be something meaningful to the self. I’ll have to ponder a bit.

  Don’t be long… you know this species has to step in when things stretch out longer than their comfort zone allows.

  Shni went quiet and Sesha steadied her breathing as she cast her mind back to the day indicated.

  She and the group of graduates were waiting in the main lecture room for the computers to arrive when in walked a genderless Quarran with a tray floating beside him, upon which were several black thin but wide strips.

  ‘These are your Wrist Computers’, he said but no one moved.

  ‘That?’ Asked Toma, a Sularian. ‘What we see is so different…’

  ‘You will adapt it to the style desired.’

  Sesha stepped forward. ‘May I?’ she asked with the respect and politeness due the Being. He nodded, so she picked one up.

  ‘This will be yours till your corporeal form is ended. Slap it around your mid forearm, either one, and squeeze it against your skin, yes,’ it popped into a circle suddenly. Sesha squeezed it to touch her skin all the way and even the ends touched and sealed.

  And almost fell over. The Quarran caught and held her while she shook, gasped and her eyes rolled back, then steadied.

  ‘What’s it like, Sesh?’

  ‘For me, the best orgasm ever…’

  “That’s it,” Sesha thought, and wiped the gem, which expanded to the size she wanted. The password was typed in and the computer released the formula to her memory. Sesha typed that in too, set it for permanent record and Ultra-Compression into mathematical language. Only to be used in times of emergency above and beyond any normality, this was it. Sesha resettled the Gem back to its old-fashioned configuration and groped a hand out of her blanket, searching for someone.
>
  Even while Sesha had been hiding in her grief the assumptions were being built on and Sesha would use what they said to give her a credible story. And possibly, a way to enact it. In the meantime, on with life and getting her legs back to full use.

  “What do you think, my wife…” the Reverend approached Beulah on a nice day. Sesha was again stretched out on the floor in a patch of sunlight, dozing after one of her small meals. She had thrown up a few minutes later and fell asleep after. “Be it presumptive to query if Miss Sesha suffer being taken outside? Whilst I know she be dribbling and oft ill, I ascertain far too many women of God are missing out on halidom, and that is not good for their souls – or yours.”

  “I understand,” Beulah bent her face down, submissive, “but the poor lass still cannot walk yet. She tries, but her back continues to pain her terribly. Even being carried is taxing to her, my Lord. Just easing the lass down the steps to the kitchen betakes four women to do so. Hath tried to see if the Lakin might allow a Monitor to carry her but her terror be too great.”

  “Mayhap she accept younger lads?”

  “Mayhap… except, lord, to be lifted about constantly wilt be taxing. Ruth hath spoken with her husband; he spoke of a type of wheeled chair, fit for Sesha?”

  “I shall have words with the carpenters. Perhaps,” he mused, as if he hadn’t heard his wife, a trait she was used to, “a chair to carry her in. And wheels, to push her about.”

  It only took a day more, and a clatter on the stairs startled Sesha out of a nap, into a brief seizure. Florence held her, whispering softly until she calmed, then opened the door.

  Peter Allway stood there. “Can’st dress the lass for out-of-doors? She might attend breakfast with the congregation.”

  “Clothing hath not been made for Sesha yet, Reverend,” Florence was quiet. “The wounds, especially on her back require a loose frock. Would thou accept a flannel nightgown, socks for her feet and a shawl?”