Hello everyone. Thanks for bearing with my strange update schedule as I spent a week in the Midwest on spring break. It was fun, there were grad schools to look at and outhouses to tip, sigh. Anyway I've got a pretty light load this quarter so look forward to more frequent updates. In other news I own neither Romeo and Juliet, or Othello, although I once played Miranda at this pretty little outdoor theatre… On a side note, by decree of me the chapter titles have an traditional Irish tunes theme, all you caeli dancers and Eirie lovers send in your requests.
Remember it's always happily ever after. Even if the road is a long and winding one.
M/A fan: That would make a pretty interesting plotline but I think its going to head in another direction. Just wait and see.
ACB: Right on, got to get those crazy kids back together somehow, although it is going to be a Very bumpy ride.
()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()
"It's all wrong." I point triumphantly at the cerebral hemisphere currently displayed on a gently flickering old light board. Jack is practically bouncing up and down behind me having eschewed spending time with Elizabeth for a chance at sitting in on this meeting.
"We're not all doctors here Kate, your going to have to explain things a little more clearly to us." As always Dix face is calm and serious, even in light of my obvious excitement.
"Use syllables of one word, some of us are only grunts." I want to make a snappy retort to Mole, but my news is burgeoning out of me, aching to be told.
"You see the brain tissue in this PET scan? All normal and healthy, full of naturally existing pathways that haven't been tampered with. Now when Manticore dragged a soldier down to psy-ops they use a number of invasive procedures on the cerebral cortex where memory and advanced thinking pathways are stored. They rewrite neural circuits and often lesion whole ganglia in order to alter undesirable behaviors." A nervous tension seizes the room as they each slowly grasp what I'm saying.
"Alec was in psy-ops a total of three times for extended stays during his years as a soldier. To double check the results of the scans which I took Naia here offered to have her brain examined and you can see her images on the left." Mole begins to snicker.
"I always knew you had brain damage. Ouch, damn it that hurt." Naia's foot rests suspiciously still on the floor next to Mole's chair.
"The point is that you can see the remaining traumas left to Naia's cerebral hemisphere. Given their similar ages and genetic make-ups, Alec should display similar, if not much more severe damage." A small hand juts out over my chair.
"And there isn't any trauma at all on that scan. In fact the neural pathways are as raw and unformed as a person a quarter of Alec's age." I don't have the heart to yell at Jack because my excitement has practically risen to match his. I've come to care deeply about both Alec and our fearless leader and more than anything, I want my fairytale ending.
"Due to the unusually high levels of pleuripotent stem cells circulating in the transgenic system it is impossible to guess our ages by tradition cell culture methods. However, I think the evidence in front of you speaks for itself. Whoever this unfortunate boy is, he wasn't Alec." Mole is the only person whose face remains darkly troubled.
"But who is the boy? And how do we find Alec." Naia coughs at the other end of the table and raises her hand.
"I think you all are missing the most important issue. How the hell are we going to break the news to Max?"
()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()
My head pounds like a pair of bongo drums have taken up residence behind my ears. Gently reaching out with my senses I take in a small portion of the air. I can feel the salty sea air moisture of the coast, a scent which is tempered by the mustiness of a molding basement and the antithetical odor of ethyl alcohol and disinfectant spray.
Now for the difficult part I gently wiggle my right big toe. Much to my satisfaction I feel the appendage rub lightly against the rough cool material of a bed sheet. My feet and hands also seen to respond to commands so I'll assume that most of my important bits are in working order. Slowly I lift my swollen eyelids, but am forced to snap them shut immediately as the light blinds me and the world tilts at an alarming angle. I focus on my breathing, bringing the deep heaving inspirations back under control. Take two, I gently cup my hands over my eyes and then cautiously open them again so that the light filters softly through my fingers.
I have an immediate gut aversion to the blurry grey of the room without knowing why. Beyond the sickly blandness of the room I'm lying in a hospital bed in a narrow room, bare except for several monitors and a few cabinets. The slow exertion of my explorations pulls a muscle in my chest and I wince sharply as a pain lances through my upper body. Cautiously moving my hands upwards I find my chest and abdomen swathed in bandages. Below the thick gauze of the dressing I can make out a nasty looking knife wound on my lower stomach that looks to be several weeks old. A wave of uncontrollable panic washes over me as I realize that I can't remember where the injury came from.
In fact, there isn't a single detail that I can remember. I know what hospitals are, how to disassemble an M-16 assault rifle, how to do the tango, and which imported beers are the most refreshing after a long day. The rest is a yawning blank, a black abyss waiting to swallow me. I can't control my breath any longer and paroxysms of hyperventilation grip my body. The lack of oxygen starts one of the machines hooked to my arm beeping in a most alarming way. A petite redhead comes storming into the room and expertly checks the machinery and my blood pressure before finally turning to me.
"Nice to see that you're finally awake. You gave me quite the scare there for a while." I watch the thin girl warily. Logically her attire marks her as a doctor and I seem to have a deep and inexplicable dislike for people in white coats. Well since I don't know who I am or where I am, I don't have much of a reason to keep my silence.
"May I have some water please?" My voice comes out in a harsh rasp, dry and sore from disuse. I rub my fingers across my throat and feel a few days worth of growth beneath my fingers. Wherever I am, I've been unconscious for a while.
"So you do speak then. I see from your mark of birth that you are designated 494, do you also have a name in common vernacular?" A name, do I have a name? I have a misty impression of a conversation held long ago that went something like this. Another girl made of the same tough as nails fabric laughing in my face, but just as soon as the flash appears it drifts away again, just out of my grasp. I feel a prickle on the back of my neck and I realize that the girl is still staring at me.
"What is your designation?" I will answer her question with my own question.
"That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet." She is using the line as bait, fishing through my memory to test my education, my knowledge.
"When you shall speak of these unlucky deeds relate, speak of me as I am nothing extenuate nor set down aught in malice." Her eyes glitter with amusement.
"Then you are a fellow who deserves my kindness?" I don't like being baited. A fellow can only take so much of it when he can't remember a good reason why he should even be listening in the first place.
"I deserve kindness from someone who won't even give me their name. Especially when you have the distinct advantage in being fully dressed at the moment." Having finished a full self examination I've come to realize that I'm starkers underneath this sheet.
"My name is Corri, and it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance. I think we'll get along just fine. I always did love a smart alec." I feel a curious pull of longing in my chest without exactly knowing why. Suddenly I home, wherever that may be, seems very far away.