Chapter Two

Overheard

::Wanderer's Point of View::

The voices were soft and close and, though I was only now aware of them, apparently in the middle of a murmured conversation.

"I'm afraid it's too much for her," one said. The voice was soft but deep, male. "Too much for anyone. Such violence!"

"She screamed once, that is all," said a higher, reedy, female voice, pointing out with a hint of glee, as if she were winning an argument.

"I know," the male voice admitted. "She is very strong. Others have had extreme trauma, with much less endings."

"I'm sure she'll be fine, just as I told you." the female voice sniffed.

"Maybe you missed your Calling." The edge in the man's voice rose, sarcasm, my memory named it. "Perhaps you were meant to be a Healer, like me."

The woman made a sound of disgust. "I doubt that. We Seekers prefer a different kind of diagnosis."

My body knew this title the female voice spoke of. Seeker. It sent a shudder of fear down my spine, the body's spine. A leftover reaction, that's what it must be. Of course, I had no reason to fear Seekers.

"I sometimes wonder if the infection of humanity touches those in your profession the man mused, his edgy-voice gained a sour note of annoyance. "Violence is part of your life choice. Does enough of your body's native temperament linger to give you enjoyment of the horror?"

I was surprised at his accusation, at his tone. The discussion was almost like an argument. Something I was not familiar with, but my host was.

The woman had a defensive tone. "We do not choose violence. We face it when we must. And it's a good thing for the rest of you that some of us are strong enough for the unpleasantness. Your peace would be shattered without our work."

"Once upon a time. Your Calling will soon be obsolete, I think."

"The error of that statement lies on that bed over there. You cannot ignore that!"

"One human girl, alone and unarmed! Yes, quite a threat to our peace from what I see."

The woman sucked in a breath almost trying to hold back something, anger. "But where did she come from? How did she appear in the middle of Chicago, a city long since civilized, hundreds of miles from any trace of rebel activity? Did she manage alone? Do explain that to me."

She listed questions without seeking the answer, as if she had already voiced them many times.

"That's your problem, not mine," the man said. "My job is to help this soul adapt herself to her new host without unnecessary pain or trauma. And you are here to interfere with my job. Perhaps you should leave until she is appropriately acclimated."

Still slowly surfacing, acclimating myself to this new world of senses. I understood I was the topic of the conversation. I was the one they spoke of. It was a new connotation to the word. On every planet we took a different name. Soul. I suppose it was an apt description. The unseen force that guides the body.

"The answers to my questions matter as much as your responsibilities to the soul."

"That is very debatable."

Suddenly there was a shift, and the woman started speaking in hushed tones, "When will she become responsive? The sedation must be about to wear off by now."

"When she is ready. Leave her be. She deserves to handle the situation how she wishes. In the most comfortable for herself. Imagine the shock of her awakening-inside a rebel host injured to the point of death in the escape attempt! No one should have to endure such trauma in times of peace!" His voice rose with an increase in emotion.

"She is strong." The woman's tone was reassuring. "See how well she did with the first memory, the worst memory. Whatever she expected, she handled it."

"Why should she have to?" the man muttered, but he didn't seem to expect an answer.

The woman answered anyway. "If we're to get the information we need -"

"Need being your word. I would choose the term ``want."

"Then someone must take on the unpleasantness," she continued as if he had not interrupted. "And I think from all I know of this one, she would accept the challenge if there had been any way to ask her. What do you call her?"

The man didn't speak for a long moment. The woman waited.

"Wanderer."