"Number One did well with her academic testing. She proved herself to be the genius I already knew she was. Soon she was at UC Berkeley studying computer science. There was a bit of a debate about where I should go to school. The school official believed I should be placed in the sixth grade at a middle school, based strictly on my age. The psychologist felt that based on my psychological and academic testing, I would fit in better at a high school. That didn't make sense to me. Why would I fit in better with older children as opposed to kids my own age? I'd always gotten along fine with my same birth year sisters. The psychologist said that I was very tall for my age. She also said that I lacked the childish attributes of a typical eleven year old. I couldn't tell from her tone whether she thought this was a good or bad thing. At any rate, it was decided that I would tour a middle school and a high school. I would not get to choose the school. It would ultimately be decided by the school district. Number One as my guardian, the psychologist and I did have input, however.
We visited Marina Middle School and Galileo Academy of Science and Technology. After observing my peer group at Marina, and seeing the vastly superior lab facilities at Galileo, I was inclined to agree with the psychologist. I really felt that Galileo would be the better fit. In truth, I had been shocked by my visit to Marina Middle School. We went into a World History class. The children were giggly, fidgety and loud. Of course, I was the same age as these squirmy students, but they seemed so much younger. The teacher had to raise her voice and threaten them to get started with the lesson. Once she began, the kids settled down and listened. Their study mainly involved outlining events and dates in history. The study seemed adequate. However, I noted that there was little discussion between the teacher and the students. The whole presentation seemed shallow and a bit dull.
I wouldn't say that I was blown away by my trip to Galileo, but it was better. We visited a room where the study was calculus. It was quiet. The teacher was writing equations on a PADD that was projected onto a large screen. He was explaining the calculations. The students were taking notes. As in the middle school, there was an even mixture of boys and girls in the class. By this time, I had gotten more used to seeing human males. I had met the police officer and the boy at the foster home. I had seen men when I used public transportation around the city. As I looked around this classroom, I noticed the young men sitting in their desks, scrawling equations on their PADDs. I didn't know why but they made me a bit nervous. We left the calculus room and took a little tour of the campus. I was impressed the most when we poked our head into a chemistry lab. The room was well equipped. The students seemed to be engaged in real experiments. The teacher moved around the room as the students, paired in twos, were working with their scoopulas, cover slips and high-powered microscopes.
In the end, I got my way and was enrolled in Galileo. Whether or not this was the best decision, I'm still not sure. I certainly did not fit in there. I did well academically, but was a social outcast. On my first day at public school, I scanned for faces similar to mine by habit. There were none. All I saw were strangers. When I was in the classroom, sitting quietly, attending to my studies, I was fine. It was during break and lunch that I felt awkward. I did not know how to approach my fellow students. No one tried to approach me. I would eat quickly and go to the library until class began again. I didn't seem to fit in anywhere except at home.
It seemed like Number One was having an easier time of it. She was very busy. She split her days between classes and studies at Berkeley, hanging out with the computer specialists at the police department, trying to help break the code to get into Mama Gretchen's hard drives, seeing the psychologist, and trying to give me a decent home life.
At first, we'd use the replicator for meals. It was a fun novelty in the beginning. We tried everything we could think of, cuisine from different countries and then from different galaxies. We loved it. One day we decided to try out the old stove and the stock of food the advocate left for us. Home cooking was even better. It tasted and smelled so good. We'd make pasta, rice, and falafels as a main course. Of course, we'd also have desserts and snacks. Our favorite was buttered popcorn. We'd make a batch, shaking the pot like crazy on the ancient stove until it popped and popped. Then, we would add melted butter. We'd spread a blanket on the floor, turn on an old movie, and eat buttered popcorn on the floor. Sometimes, Number One and I would have a mini-food fight and throw popcorn at each other. I even watched Laurence Olivier play Heathcliff, laying on my blanket, with a piece of popcorn in my nose, more in my hair, and butter dripping down my chin. It's a good thing old Heath couldn't see me through the screen. Anyway, I thought Sir Laurence made a fine Heathcliff. He was dark, brooding and sexy. I was however, very disappointed that the movie covered only a small portion of the book.
One day, Number One told me that she'd never make it into Starfleet Academy if she was fat and out of shape. This was the first hint that she gave about her future plans. She also said that as my guardian, it was her responsibility to make sure that I was fit and healthy as well. We found that it was just as easy and almost as delicious to make low calorie meals in our little kitchen. We would do calisthenics in the apartment and started to jog around the panhandle of Golden Gate Park. I grew to love breathing the fresh air and feeling the sun on my back as I worked my legs in a steady cadence. Number One would set a pretty fast pace and I would work hard to keep up. As we grew stronger, we'd jog all the way across Stanyan Street and into the main part of the park. Sometimes, we'd then stop at the tea garden or one of the museums before jogging back home. I began to believe that Number One could make almost anything seem fun. I say almost because I still had to go to high school and therapy.
Every week we went to see Dr. Litchfield, the psychologist assigned to us. We'd take municipal transit to her office. We each had two hours of individual and two hours of group therapy a week. Dr. Litchfield was not intimidating. She didn't seem like a medical professional at all. Her looks and manner reminded me more of the kindly ladies at Galileo who worked in the cafeteria. Her short, round body seemed to be swallowed up by the big, leather office chair she sat in. She would always be sucking on a breath mint and would offer me one. Sometimes, I would take one just to be polite. Other times, I would decline because I didn't want to appear greedy. During our individual sessions she always wanted to talk about my feelings, particularly my feelings about Mama Gretchen and my missing sisters. I did not want to tap into that well of confusion, anger and sadness. I would ask her to help me fit in with the kids at high school as a deflection. The doctor was patient and did not push me to talk about things I didn't want to. She tried to help me learn how to make friends in high school by role playing. I'd play a kid in class and Dr. Litchfield would be me. I was horrible at playing a high school student. I don't think Dr. Litchfield was very good at playing me either. She played me as a confident and accepting classmate. In actuality, I was awkward, timid and totally clueless on how to socialize with a peer. The whole role playing exercise made me feel dumb and uncomfortable.
I found the group sessions a little more bearable. That's because Number One was with me. With Number One there, Dr. Litchfield was able to probe into those areas I was unwilling to discuss. Mainly, Number One did the talking. I sometimes learned interesting things. For instance, I learned that Number One was having a tough time handling the guilt of not being able to immediately break the encryption of Mama Gretchen's hard drives. The therapist had us both acknowledge that we were grieving the loss of our sisters. This was no revelation to me. I knew that Number One wanted our sisters back. I knew she felt the loss. What I didn't realize was how the extra responsibility of trying to get at the information in those drives ate at her. I saw her working on the encryption of the hard drives late into the night, after she finished her schoolwork. I heard her talk on the com to her friends in the police department, hoping they were having more success than she was. In therapy, she broke into tears and talked about how frustrated and guilty she felt that she had been unsuccessful so far. Number One felt that she was failing all of us. Dr. Litchfield tried to make Number One realize that she didn't bear sole responsibility for breaking the encryption. She assured her that everyone knew she was doing the best that she could. I could tell that Number One remained unconvinced.
Another thing I discovered was that Mama Gretchen was a virulent misandrist. She despised all men. As her protégée, Number One was trained to share these feelings. Mama Gretchen never explained why she hated men to Number One. She would tell her that no man would ever accept an intelligent woman. She said that men always sabotaged women in the workplace. She said men caused wars and suffering. Men were simply evil and never to be trusted. Mama Gretchen's man-hate explained certain things to me. I figured that was why all of our assistants were women. It was also why I didn't have any brothers. I'm sure that Mama Gretchen could have changed an X chromosome into a Y easily, if she wanted boy babies.
Dr. Litchfield was helping Number One reconcile her feelings for her male friends against all the vitriol Mama Gretchen had put in her head about men. They were working on this in their private sessions. Number One had made friends with men at the police department computer lab and at UC Berkeley. Dr. Litchfield brought this issue up in the group session because she wanted to know if Mama Gretchen had soured me on males as well. I felt fortunate to be able to assure both Dr. Litchfield and Number One that Mama Gretchen had never ever spoken to me about men. She had barely spoken to me at all, except for that one time when we were packing.
I learned something else in group therapy. Number One told Dr. Litchfield that Mama Gretchen experimented by putting different mixtures of hormones and enzymes into the amniotic fluid. This was the liquid that surrounded and helped nourish the fetuses in their artificial uteruses. Number One said that her original concoction was designed to create super intelligent babies. She believed that she had been successful in raising the IQs of her babies. She could measure our superior intelligence through standard testing. Evidently, as her children grew older, Mama Gretchen felt that they were too cold and not caring enough toward her. Now, she wanted to make smart children who would understand her and her suffering. She wanted children who would love and nurture her. She began to experiment by adding extra ingredients to the amniotic fluid, which she believed would make kinder, more empathetic children. Number One didn't understand the process, but she knew that Mama Gretchen was frustrated and felt the experiment was unsuccessful. She told Number One that if she had only been more compassionate, she would not have to do this extra work. Mama Gretchen said that Number One was cold and unfeeling, little more than a machine. Number One said that Mama Gretchen felt all of the children lacked compassion. However, she only openly criticized Number One for her deficit, never the rest of us. Of course, Number One was hurt by Mama Gretchen's cruel assessment. That's why she had discussed it during her individual therapy. I tried to assure Number One that she wasn't cold. She was very kind to me. I don't think she believed me. Poor Number One, Mama Gretchen had really messed with her psyche. For all that I hated my individual sessions; I was glad that Dr. Litchfield seemed to be helping Number One.
Not long after we both started school, Number One got a job. One of her professors at UC Berkeley had been commissioned to head a project to develop a new computer system to be used on intergalactic space vessels. This professor, Dr. Lee picked Number One to help with the project. The really nice thing was that much of the work could be done at home. Number One was so excited.
'Imagine Twenty-three,' She would say as she was bent over a computer, working on a scripting command, 'If we do this right, our system might be used throughout Starfleet.'
Number One even let me help her out. I would do some of the easier coding, under her supervision. It felt good to help her and I liked the work. The most fun was when Number One started working on the computer generated voice. This new computer system would recognize spoken commands. It would also respond verbally. This was not an innovation. Computers had been programmed to respond to human language and speak with a synthetic voice before. What was revolutionary about the design Dr. Lee and Number One had created, was the extent two-way verbal communication would be used by the computer. The goal was to make accessing the computer exactly like communicating with a human being. It was programmed to understand and respond to anything said to it. Number One wanted it to have a natural sounding speaking voice. To do this, she recorded her voice on sound files for the computer to access. She wanted a huge sample for the computer to utilize. It was time consuming so Number One asked me to help. While working on this part of the project, we discovered that our speaking voices were almost identical. So, we both recorded the sound files that would become the computer's voice.
Unfortunately, the new project just added on the pressures Number One already faced. She still wanted to spend hours a day trying to crack the encryption on Mama Gretchen's drives. Number One was only sleeping about three hours a night. One day, I came home from school to find my sister in the workroom. Her long legs were splayed out in front of her in an awkward knock-knee position. She was leaned way back, her head facing the ceiling. Her hair, once pony-tailed, had for the most part, escaped from the rubber band and was everywhere. Her mouth was opened and she was loudly snoring. She had a minicomputer on her lap; a terminal was on at the desk in front of her, and PADDS all over the floor. I thought of all the sacrifices she had made for me. She cooked, jogged and chatted with me when she was already so busy. She had done so much in such a short amount of time. She was the kindest, most intelligent person I had ever known. Imagine, she had actually invented those tiny storage drives! She had been mentally abused by Mama Gretchen but had worked to overcome it. She was even brave enough to face everything in therapy. That was something I could not bring myself to do. She was still working to reunite our family. She had not given up on finding our sisters. It struck me as I looked at her through the doorway that I was in love for the first time. The only kind of love I had ever thought about as a kid was the romantic kind. The kind I would find with my own Heathcliff. This was very different from that, of course. It was more like the love of a child for her mother. I thought of how much I now trusted and depended on her. I felt like I would do anything for her. Looking at her, spread out in the chair, I knew how angry she would be when she realized that she had allowed herself to nap. She'd probably be even angrier if she knew I'd witnessed her failure to stay awake. So, I went back outside and slammed the front door very loudly.
I resolved to make Number One proud of me. So, I decided I'd try to open up to Dr. Litchfield more in my individual therapy. I also told myself that I would really try to put her suggestions in practice at school. I went out for the girl's basketball team and joined the science club. I spoke to some kids during lunch. I'll admit that I didn't go up to the group of really popular kids who prominently took over the best spot in the school's courtyard. Honestly, I had nothing in common with them and had no desire to befriend them. I went and ate my lunch with a small group of boys and girls I recognized from my physics class. I'm not going to say that I made any best friends, but they let me eat with them. That was a start. Gradually I gained a few school friends. I lost my absolute dread of Galileo High. I learned to dislike school in a less intense way, meaning I hated it just like every regular kid did. Months passed and slowly I felt like I was gaining a new life. With Number One and Dr. Litchfield helping me with every small step, I was learning how to be a normal girl."