Regan's Reach (14 page)

"And," Ham continued sounding a
little smug, "the unit seems to be working fine, you haven't experienced
any problems have you?"

"Well, no. But I have no idea if this
thing works, I tried speaking some French and all I could manage was my
schoolyard 'Je ne comprends rien', and I already knew that!

"Well," and he sounded super
smug, "You're speaking Dahlian fine."

Regan's mouth dropped open. "Wha . . ."

"Your Dahlian, it's good, you'll fit
in like a native!" He was unbearably delighted as if he'd pulled a rabbit
out of a hat. "That's how it works. I started speaking in Marin's language
when you came in and the transition is seamless. The unit works with your brain
and recognizes words and meaning immediately along with all the usual nuances
that come from tone, volume, pace. No one usually thinks about the actual sound
of a word, it's just there, people are speaking and you just understand. This
is the same. The unit is as fast as or faster than your brain so that as soon
as you hear the words, the meaning is in your head and guided by the unit you
naturally reply in the same way. It does the work of translating so quickly you
don't even have to think about it. Would you like to hear our conversation from
the time you came in here?"

"Ahh, I guess so, but won't I just
hear . . . well . . . the meaning? I won't recognize the words."

"Actually you will once you get used
to it. A French woman hears French, it's just most of the time she doesn't recognize
she's doing so. She just hears and responds. Your brain fooled you here because
it automatically recognized meaning and replied in the same way. You understood
but weren't expecting it and as you were preoccupied you didn't think about it."

"Oh wow! So how do I hear it now?"
She asked, all her anger gone.

"Well, now you know that it's
happening just listen for it consciously. You'll hear the sounds as well as
understanding. If you have a problem I can turn it off."

Immediately Ham replayed the conversation
from the time she entered the control room and she found she could hear the
sounds. They were strange guttural sounds that seemed to flow together. She
couldn't detect any breaks in the sounds but at the same time she understood.
Of
course, this is exactly what any language sounds like when being spoken
fluently to a non speaker.

"Amazing," she acknowledged, "and
very cool." She paused, "Ham . . . I don't miss much. This device is
in my head. How can you turn it off?"

"Ahh . . . now, that was my other
executive decision."

"Go . . . on."

"Regan, I had the best of intentions.
Look, this thing needs power and the larger unit drained more than your brain
could provide without making you pass out sooo . . . it occurred to me that a
means of recharging would be useful and allow higher processing functions too.
So I included a charger. Then I thought it might be useful to communicate at
times without words, like when we get to Dahlia. That way I could coach you
without anyone knowing, so again, it seemed like a good idea to combine the wireless
connectivity with the charger. This way we can talk any time silently, friendly
like!" He was babbling, suspiciously nervous.

"Ham . . . what have you done?"

"This."

Regan looked at the image and immediately
it seemed her brain disappeared, hidden behind a thick lattice. All she could
see now was color with no brain visible at all; the additions shading
everything else out. Another cold shiver passed through her.

"It looks worse than it is," Ham
tried to sound reassuring. "You can't really tell from the outside."

"Where . . . is . . . my . . . BRAIN!"

"It's there! It's still there,
honestly! What you can see is only a mesh, over the skull but under the skin.
It's a neural web with wireless connectivity combined with photoreceptor cells.
Whenever you're in light it will charge your device and provide power to access
the higher functions. It also provides extra punch to the wireless unit.
Simple!" Ham sounded excited.

"Simple! . . . Simple! . . . I'm a
fucking cyborg!"

"Hardly Regan . . . I decided against
going that far, you're overreacting."

"Oh shit! . . . You . . . you . . . .
this took some planning!

"About one thousandth of a second."

"What?"

"That's how long it took . . . the
planning . . . one thousandth of a second."

"Well fuck you," Regan stood and
made for the door, "I'm glad you thought long and hard about it." And
she was gone.

The ghostly head hung in the air still
rotating slowly. Then the image began to dissolve, melting into liquid drops,
each falling slowly to puddle on the floor.

Regan headed straight for the gym. First
she increased the settings on every machine. Then she literally worked on each
until she could take no more. Soaked with perspiration she made a quick stop at
the mess to rehydrate then headed for level five; she would run until she
dropped. Five kilometers later the outer walls began to light up revealing a
soft vision of space, the Milky Way swirling about her as she pounded along.
Finally, with her feet sore, Regan started back up, only stopping to check on
Marin before taking the longest shower she had taken on ship. Then she crashed,
face down, head buried in the blanket bundled up beneath her head. She didn't
sleep.

Two hours later Regan rolled over and
stared at the ceiling.

"I know why," she said. "I
know why you did it."

"I just did what I thought would be
best for you." Ham spoke softly, he could have been whispering.

"Ham, I'm only twenty four years old
and I can't tell you how often I've heard guys say that. The problem with men
is that they truly believe what they think is best, is best. They use that
argument to justify their actions." She shook her head. "Oh, what am
I saying, women do it too. It's just not right. True, sometimes you have to
make those calls because it's not possible to do it any other way. This wasn't
one of those situations. You should have talked to me."

"You might have said no."

"That was my right Ham, and that would
have been your risk. If you really care about someone you need to let them
choose. Perhaps they'll go along with your idea, perhaps not. And if they never
agree with you or compromise on anything, then perhaps they're not the best
person to be with. I understand taking that risk, the fear of it. It's a risk
that you will lose someone, but it's worth it, to have something real."

. . . Silence . . .

Regan thought for a while and then
continued. "I'm not happy with how you did this. But that doesn't mean
that I'm going to fight it."

. . . Silence . . .

"Ham?"

"Regan . . . in the interests of full
disclosure . . . there are a couple of other things, I want to clean the slate,
even if . . ."

"Ham . . . what is it?" Regan sat
up nervously, the cool chill again shivering down her back.

"I understand what you're saying,"
Ham continued, "I know I should have asked. I just rationalized things
because you said you'd do anything. I shouldn't have gone ahead and I knew it
wasn't right, not without you saying so."

"What is it Ham? You're worrying me."

"You said I should back up . . ."

Regan paused, confused.
Back up?
She
cocked her head, reality dawning. "I'm . . . your backup! Oh fuck Ham,
what have you done?"

"The unit has . . . everything."

Regan raised her hands, stabbing her
forehead with her finger, "You mean you . . . are in . . . here!"

"Nooo, well, yes, sort of. I'm here,
as usual but I'm constantly backing up in there, a copy, like you said, just in
case. But don't worry, what's in there isn't active, unless you choose for it
to be, to access it I mean, for information or advice or something."

"Oh fuck Ham! I've known you less than
two weeks and now we're sleeping together!" She started to pace.

"I know this doesn't make it right
Regan, but there are advantages. Through the wireless connection you now have
instant mental access to all the data stored in the ship. That's got to be good
for you, doesn't it? And lastly, there is something else . . ."

"Yeeessss." Regan assumed that
suspicious look, like she was thinking what - the - fuck are you going to tell
me now? It was probably lost on Ham.

He continued. "This is the last thing;
I'm pretty sure, honestly . . . for the photoreceptors to work . . . you can't
grow your hair back."

There followed a few seconds of silence and
then Regan sank to her knees, continuing down in one fluid motion until she was
foetal hunched on the floor, rocking back and forth, knocking her head softly
on the floor.

"I'll just leave you for a bit, shall
I?" Ham offered.

"That . . . might . . . be . . . good."
she replied slowly, butting the floor with each word.

*

One advantage of an argument, especially
when one party knows they stepped over the line, is how hard they are often
prepared to work to put things right. Ham was working really hard.

Regan was determined to make life more
bearable during the months of travel. Music and visuals to run to sounded like
fun, and the starscape Ham had displayed on level five during her earlier anger
break proved inspiring. It was just the beginning with the ship having stored visuals
from virtually every favorite place she had ever visited. Moving visuals from
head cams were the best and with showing just a hint of interest Ham could have
her running around the Sydney waterfront or through the redwood forest in
Rotorua.

Walking laps through the virtual redwoods
Regan reflected on her attitude following Ham's revelation. More than anything
it was not being asked that bothered her. As someone interested in technology,
and in particular the mind technology link, the potential of what Ham had done
excited her.

"You did want a complete change."
she whispered to herself.

It was time to move on. She wanted to build
a bridge.

"Ham, I want to share something with
you." She continued walking as she talked.

"At home, in my family, we never
argued."

"O . . . K?"

"But we did have discussions." She
paused. "The thing is Ham, some of those, 'discussions', could be heard
three doors away from our house, right down the street."

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying Ham, that even though we
argued, loudly and even if we had differences, we always stayed family."

There was silence for a few minutes and Ham
didn't comment, but soon, as if nothing had happened, they were talking,
another long rambling conversation about life, family, Dahlia, politics and
even religion. After a while, still talking, Regan moved back to her room to
lie on the bed. As they chatted she could tell that Ham was truly enjoying the
company.
This is a frustrated mind
, she thought,
he is a lonely
personality who has been lonely for a long time
. She wondered at Ham's
relationship with Marin, if there was one. Then . . . there came an insight.
Ham's care for Marin, the risks he was prepared to take, even his subtle
manipulation of her told a different story. Ham felt responsible for Marin,
perhaps like an older brother. Like Kevin.

Regan's head began to nod, once, twice,
then it dropped to her chest and she slipped slowly into sleep. The lights
dimmed in the room.

With lights gently brightening Regan opened
her eyes and checked her watch. It was three in the morning.
Morning she
thought. What does that mean here?
Since day one she'd followed earth
timing by her watch but the last few days had thrown her sleep patterns out
completely.
Nothing for it now, I'm wide awake
. She lay a while longer
staring at the ceiling trying to recall the detail of the dream she had just
been having, running toward a man but not able to reach him. Sitting up and
shaking her head Regan decided to get up. Ham was always up.

She went straight to the mess for coffee
then proceeded up to control. Taking her seat she looked at the star view
before her and marveled for a moment. It always appeared the same.

"This is an early rise for you, Regan?"
Ham had that interested, questioning tone as if to say, are you alright?

"I woke and knew I wouldn't get back
to sleep. I'm used to Earth's twenty four hour day but this last week I've been
all over the place. I need to get back to a regular cycle. What's it going to
be like on an orbital?"

"Not that different to what you know.
All animals need sleep and without a regular cycle they break down, humanoids
especially. On Marin's orbital day night cycles are maintained artificially, at
twenty five of your hours. That's twenty five hours with ten hours darkness.
Temperature wise it's like a perpetual Earth summer, you'll like it."

Looking out at the starscape she realized
something had been nagging at her, "The view Ham, it doesn't seem right. I
remember you saying we would be going to FTL yet I've always imagined we wouldn't
see stars? The FTL crest, have I missed it?"