My communicator implant crackled, then beeped. I scratched my head involuntarily. You’d think the engineers would have worked the bugs out of these things by now.
“Command.”
“We have her locked in the reverberator field, sir. Shall we bring her aboard?”
“Bring her aboard, Perry. Use your bosun’s whistle if you like. I know you’re a student of history.”
“Afraid it’s in my quarters, sir.”
“Ah., pity. Carry on then. We’ll be waiting in Conference Five.”
“Aye, sir.”
I fingered the thick file under my arm. This was going to be a difficult interview. The woman was an unknown quantity. Well, not unknown exactly, but certainly unpredictable. We didn’t know how much she knew. And she wasn’t likely to take this little interruption of her life graciously. No, this one was going to require finesse.
I wasn’t happy about this project; hadn’t been from the beginning. It went against the grain of all that I had been taught in grammar school about liberty and self-determination and constitutional rights. I was sure Jefferson had been spinning in his grave for some time now looking at what a mess we had made of the great American experiment. But this was a question of national security. And if the nation didn’t survive, what good would any of those high-minded beliefs do anyway?
On my way to the conference room, I took a little detour to the psychpods and looked in on Reisling. There hadn't been any change.
* * * * * * * * * *
I like the colors. But most of all I like the sounds. Sounds, rounds, wounds. Hehehe. I made a rhyme! It’s rhyme time. Rosemary and thyme.
I think I dated a girl named Rosemary once. In high school maybe. Rosemary. Rosemary. Yeah, Rosemary Daley. That was it. With the long brown hair parted in the center. And the braces. Good God, the braces. I used to be afraid to kiss her, afraid those metal contraptions would liplock us forever. That was a long time ago.
At least I think it was. It feels like it was. But something seems to have happened to my sense of time. I don’t know how long I’ve been here. A day? An hour? A year? It’s like there is no time and there’s all time all at once. What was that song Garrison Keiler sang on that radio show? It seemed funny at the time. See time, time, and more time hehehe. Here's how it went: ”time exists so that everything doesn’t happen all at once; space exists so that everything doesn’t happen to you.”
I seem to be in a place like that. No time, no space. It’s everything and nothing and there’s memory but is it memory or is it real? Wasn’t that a commercial? Memory? Memorize? Memorex? The guy sitting on the couch with his hair blowing back? Maybe I’m just imagining that. I. I. I. Imagining I imagined it. Hehehe.
I think about I, but I don’t know who I is. Is there an I if I’m the only one that talks with I? Is there anything outside of I? There must have been once. There was Rosemary, right? And Elaine, practical old Elaine. That lasted a long time as time goes. As time goes by--dum de dum-- I realize--dum de dum-- just what you mean--dum de dum--to me . . .
Alyss loved that song. Loved by my beloved Alyss. Alyss with the Cheshire Cat grin. Alyss with the Mad Hatter eyes. Chasing down one rabbithole after another. Maybe we chased down one too many. Maybe we . . . but I can’t remember. That’s where it gets foggy. White rabbit. White rabbit. Something happened. Something changed. An instant unraveled into an eternity and all the music went away . . .
I like the colors. But most of all I like the sounds. The sounds the sounds go round and round. Hehehe.
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