Cassidy (A Color of Water and Sky Novel)

by Andrew Gates

  The hefty man placed his briefcase down on the desk, powered on the holographic projector and immediately turned to face the room. His white hair shined in the bright light from above. He took a deep sigh, trying to compose himself before getting started.

  “Hello class,” he greeted. His words were followed by more panting.

  “Good morning,” replied a few voices here and there. The response was underwhelming, though the professor seemed unfazed by the lackluster reply from his students.

  “Sorry I am late again. Uhm… without further ado, let’s get started.”

  He turned to the projector and pressed a button. The words free will lit up the room in bright orange lights. Not even a minute into the lesson and Sara already felt bored.

  “As you all know from last night’s reading, today we’ll be talking about free will. I hope you all came prepared,” he started. “Surface scholar David Hume once called the concept of free will ‘the most contentious question of metaphysics.’ That’s a bold statement. I imagine you all have a lot to say on the topic. So, who can tell me, what does it mean to have free will?”

  Sara had not done the reading from last night, though she at least tried this time. Two pages into the text and she already found herself zoning out. If it were any other topic, maybe she could have stayed engaged. But philosophy was just too much for her.

  A woman’s hand darted up in the front row. Sara glanced forward. She recognized this woman, though she did not know her name. She had dark hair and a pale complexion. As usual, this student was not very well dressed. It always looked like she walked right out of bed and into her seat every day. Like Sara, she seemed like one of the only students older than 25. Sara found herself curious to know more about this woman at times, though she never bothered to talk to her.

  The professor pointed to woman.

  “It’s simple,” the dark-haired student replied in a confident tone. She lowered her hand. “Free will is the ability to make your own decisions.”

  The professor nodded and shrugged.

  “And are you certain we have free will?”

  “Of course we do,” the student retorted. “If we didn’t have free will, we would basically be puppets.”

  “Who’s to say we aren’t puppets? Perhaps you simply think you are responsible for the decisions you make. Could circumstances beyond our control ordain our fate?”

  “Impossible,” the student darted back. “All major philosophers agree that humans are distinct because we possess free will, even going back to Plato and Aristotle.”

  “I would be hesitant to say all philosophers, but definitely the majority, Iris,” the professor responded. He slowly paced around the room, bobbing his head up and down.

  The hefty man made his way to the projector again and pressed another button. This time the word determinism appeared in the air.

  “Who can tell me what determinism means?” he asked, facing the room once more.

  The same hand went up.

  “Someone else,” the professor said, dismissively.

  The hand went down. The room was silent. The professor waited for a few moments and then sighed.

  “Alright, fine. I’ll have to call on people. Sara, what is determinism?” he asked, pointing right to her.

  Sara stared back at him. She could only imagine how shocked she must have looked.

  “Uhm… determinism is the idea that we determine what we want to do before we do it,” she said.

  “That was a great guess, Sara, but incorrect,” the professor replied. “Come on, you all read Sam Harris last night, didn’t you? This should be an easy question.”

  Sara looked down at the desk, embarrassed.

  “Alright, fine, Iris,” the professor finally conceded, pointing to the student in the front again.

  The student eagerly responded.

  “Determinism is the idea that outside forces determine our fate. We are not in control of what happens to us,” she responded. “But it is heavily critiqued by many philosophers and there is not much evidence to suggest that such-”

  “I was not asking if you believe in determinism or not, Iris.”

  “But you believe in it, right?”

  “Me?” the professor asked. “Do I think outside forces control our actions? No, I don’t think so.” He shook his head.

  “But you just said that maybe we think we’re in control when we aren’t,” Iris retorted.

  The professor backed up.

  “I’m a professor,” he said, defensively. “It’s my job to get you to question things. It doesn’t mean I believe it.”

  “So what do you believe?” the student asked.

  The professor lowered his head and faced the floor. He threw his hands up and raised his head again.

  “Honestly, I would be frightened if I knew I couldn’t control my own actions,” he explained. “I don’t know how I could live life knowing that I wasn’t in control.”

  Sara perked up. That last sentence caught her interest.

  “Could you imagine living life knowing that you don’t have any choices? That you don’t have any control over what happens? You’d be, as you said, a puppet. I would go so far as to say an empty shell.”

  Sara shuttered at the thought. She could not imagine such a horrid reality. She was glad that she wasn’t a determinist, or whatever they were talking about. That sounded like a sad way to view the world.

  “No, in my opinion,” the professor continued, “if you want to do something, you do it.”

  Sara raised her own hand this time. The professor’s face lit up in surprise. He pointed to her without wasting a second.

  “Yes, Sara,” he said, eager to hear what she had to say.

  “I have a question. What if someone else were to control us?”

  “You mean like mind control?” the professor asked.

  “Not specifically mind control, but what if an outside force told us what to do?” Sara asked.

  The professor bobbed his head and paced around the room, not answering the question right away. He seemed intrigued by this idea.

  “Well,” he eventually said, coming to a stop, “I would hope you could fight it, resist. If this were me, I would do anything in my power to take control again.”

  Sara nodded her head. She liked the sound of that.

  Allora picked the long green vegetable out from the soil and inspected it. Too small, yet again. She grimaced, but placed it in her mouth nonetheless. All the good produce was gone now. Whatever remained was either rotted, tiny or not yet fully grown.

  Sara wondered if Allora realized that this was all her fault. When Sara was still in control, she would ration the best food and choose to eat that of lesser quality from time to time. But Allora did not seem to have the patience for long term planning. She cared only for the here and now.

  Ironic, Sara would think to herself, for someone so concerned about making it through the future, she is going to use up all our food by the end of the month.

  The vegetable tasted fine in her mouth. Sara expected worse. It only took a few chews to devour the whole thing.

  "What are you smiling about?" Allora asked after swallowing the last bite.

  Was I smiling? Sara remained quiet.

  "I'll let you speak," Allora continued.

  "How generous of you," Sara retorted. It was the first time she had spoken all day.

  "You should be thankful, Sara. I could have you remain quiet all day if I chose," Allora said, pointing her finger scoldingly as if speaking to someone straight ahead.

  "I won't thank you for imprisoning me in my own body." Sara tried to shake her head in disgust, but it wouldn't budge. "Allowing me to speak a few times a day changes nothing. You won't be getting any thanks from me."

  "Well... I think that's rude. You know I could shut you up if I wanted," Allora arrogantly replied.

  Sara managed to successfully shake her head this time. It was good to know she could still take control every now and
then.

  "You wouldn't dare. You'd be too bored. Face it; this has nothing to do with generosity. This has to do with you passing the time," Sara replied.

  Allora shrugged.

  "I'll admit, I would be bored without you, but don't think for a second that I need you."

  Sara did not believe it. She would not dare suppress her entirely,

  "Okay, fine," she casually responded. "What was the original question again?"

  "I was asking why you were smiling. Was something funny?"

  Sara honestly couldn't remember anymore.

  "I don't know," she answered truthfully.

  "Well... what were you thinking about?" Allora wondered. She turned to look out over the water.

  "Do you really care to know?"

  Allora shook her head subtly and then turned away from the view.

  "No," she admitted, "but it's as you said: I'm bored."

  Sara could not say she was surprised.

  "Well," she began, "if you must know, I was remembering back to my college days."

  "You were in college?"

  "I was."

  Doesn't she already know that?

  "Were you remembering anything in particular?"

  "A lesson about free will, actually. I didn't think much of it back then, but today I guess it's rather relevant given the circumstances."

  "Is that supposed to scare me?" Allora shot back.

  "No," Sara responded, shaking her head again, "it's just the truth. That's what I'm thinking about."

  Allora took a deep breath.

  "When were you in college?" she asked in a casual tone.

  Is this her attempt at small talk?

  "I thought you had my memories. Don't you know?" Sara asked.

  Allora shook her head this time.

  "No," she responded. "I have many of your memories, but there are also many things I cannot see. It is like a story with gaps in the middle."

  Interesting.

  "Well, if you really care to know, I graduated with a degree in management a few years back."

  "Undergraduate?"

  "Yes."

  "You're a little old to just get an undergraduate degree, aren't you?" Allora questioned. She sat down on the soil and crossed her legs, comfortably. "No offense."

  "Trust me, I'm not offended. You're right. I put it off. For the longest time, I didn't think I needed a degree. I enlisted in the Navy right out of high school. It was something I knew I always wanted to do. As a kid, I loved hearing my dad read stories about the heroic Navy men and women." She let out a deep sigh as a glimpse of those peaceful days entered her mind. But like the waves below, the memory soon faded away as quickly as it had come. Nothing good seemed to last for long here. "I wanted to be a hero like them so badly," she continued. "No surprise, once I officially joined, I ascended the ranks as quickly as I could. What I didn't realize was, you can only climb the ladder so far before the next rank requires a degree."

  "So you needed a degree to get promoted?" Allora inquired, apparently listening intently.

  "That's right. That was Navy policy. So I studied management. I thought it seemed relevant. The Federation financed the whole thing, thank the Lord Beyond Both Seas."

  "Lucky you," Allora responded. "Did you like it?"

  "What? School?"

  Allora nodded.

  "It was fine. I really just wanted to get back in the field."

  "I understand."

  Sara paused for a moment. It occurred to her that she was actually having a legitimate conversation with Allora right now. They were not fighting, not arguing, not trying to overpower each other. Instead of a hostile entity controlling her mind, it was like she had her own imaginary friend, someone to talk to and confide in.

  "So your dad is what drew you to join the military?" Allora asked.

  "Yes. He was a big influence on me," Sara answered honestly. "He used to read me stories when I was young. I would sit on his lap and demand book after book, even when I was too old for it. The stories about soldiers were always my favorite."

  "You must miss him," Allora said.

  Sara paused and gazed out over the water, wondering if his body was among the dead. She felt her heart flutter. She sniffled.

  "I do," was all she said, though there was a lot more she wanted to say.

  "I feel your heart. I'm sorry if I brought up something that-"

  "It's nothing," Sara interrupted. "Let's just talk about something else."

  Allora nodded and shifted her body along the soil.

  "Okay," she said, "this class you were taking... the one about free will... what were you remembering about it?"

  Sara stopped to remind herself about the class. She had been so distracted thinking about other things, she practically forgot all about it.

  "The class? It was... interesting. Some know-it-all was dominating the discussion the whole time. I wasn't really paying much attention until..."

  "Until what?" Allora wondered.

  "Until... until I asked the professor what would happen if I ever lost my free will."

  "Oh?" Allora said. Sara could feel her raise her eyebrow in curiosity. "And what did the professor say?"

  Sara hesitated. Part of her thought that this was going to be a bad idea, but part of her just wanted to blurt it out.

  She decided to just say it.

  "He told me to resist you," Sara answered in a confident tone. "He told me to fight for control."

  Allora laughed menacingly.

  "Well... I see that hasn't worked out for you," she retorted, amused.

  Not yet, Sara thought as she looked out across the ocean, but it's only a matter of time.

  DAMIEN EXCITEDLY SAT UP AS someone fiddled with the door controls outside of the bright cell. He kept his eyes down, as not to go blind, but listened intently. I hope they're taking me to Kal Khtallia again, he thought.

  The alien leader had been on his mind a lot lately. He eagerly looked forward to their conversations together. Up until recently, their meetings took place almost on a daily basis. Their last meeting had been a few days ago now, an uncomfortably long time for a man with nothing to do. He had not waited this long to see her since their first encounter.

  What started as an intense meeting between the two had grown into a surprisingly comfortable relationship. Damien would go so far as to even say, a friendship. The two spoke about everything now, from culture, to history, even about their childhoods. At times, Damien forgot he was speaking to a different species altogether. It was as if he were talking with someone from the station.

  He remembered their last conversation together. For the first time, Damien was allowed to venture outside the prison cells. They met within her own personal quarters, an immense honor for anyone within the Chiefdom.

  A window replaced the far wall. A beautiful image of Earth shone through it, illuminating the room in its majesty.

  Kal Khtallia stood next to her throne and faced outside as her guards kept watch around the empty room. They never took their eyes off of Damien, even for a second.

  "Strange to consider that this world is as much yours as it is mine," she said as she gazed out upon the planet. She promptly turned to face him. Her cape lifted in the air as she spun. "If such tales are to be believed, that is."

  Damien stepped forward to the Supreme Chieftess, prompting the guards around the room to nervously tighten their grips around their spears. Even after having been in this room for hours, they were still on edge.

  "You question my story?"

  "Not yours," she said, shaking her head. "I believe what you have told me. You are honest, Kho Damien Saljov. Rather, I find myself contemplating a great many questions as of late. Perhaps the tales of my own peoples are... misguided. At times I question how both our races could have shared the planet for so long without crossing paths."

  "We have been underwater for a long time, maybe longer than my people originally thought."

  Kal Khtallia shrugged and st
epped towards Damien.

  "I shall need to think on this more, Kho Damien Saljov. We have spoken at great length today and I fear our time has met its end. In the meantime, there is business to attend to on the surface."

  "The surface?"

  "Indeed," she replied, not missing a beat. "This vessel shall endure my absence for a few days."

  "When will you be back?" Damien did not want to be away from her for too long.

  "I shall not be gone long, Kho Damien Saljov. Kal Likus shall tend to you in the meantime," she explained.

  Damn, who am I going to talk to for the next few days?

  "Thank you, your Majesty," was all he said, though he wished to know more about her trip.

  That was the last thing he said to her. Several days had passed, yet she had not summoned for him. He hoped everything was okay.

  The cell door finally opened, pulling Damien back to the present. He looked up to the hall before him. Kal Likus stood at the ready with her arm outstretched. She huffed as if she were out of breath. Her mandibles twitched. Damien could tell right away that something was wrong.

  He stood up instantly.

  "What is it?" he asked, locking eyes with his visitor.

  "They don't know I'm here," she said through rushed words. "Hurry, for there is little time to act!" Her tone was serious. There was no doubt about it: something was definitely wrong.

  "Has something happened to her Majesty?" he asked, nervously.

  Kal Likus shook her head.

  "No, evolved-one. She is still safe on the surface, though it is for our own safety that we should worry."

  "Our own safety?" Those words did not sound good.

  "The hierarchs warn of an imminent attack on this vessel. They call for an evacuation. Escape pods await, but I could not find it in myself to depart without your accompaniment," she explained. She quickly glanced down the hall, then back to Damien, as if paranoid. Her body twitched wildly.

  An attack? That was probably the worst news he could hear. This was serious.