Chapter 92
Chapter 92
It was dark. Sophia could see, as she was a walking breathing tricorder, embedded in a suit. She turn
the illumination up in his suit, making him the source of light in the room.
“Wait,” Jon said, but it was too late. The room filled his eyes. “I was trying to see.”
“In the dark? You have a skillset I am not aware of?” Sophia asked.
“It was dark all the time hear. I learned to see in the dark,” Jon said.
“I accept the possibility that your experience was real to you. The memories you hold may be accurate,
but this body didn’t build the neural pathways to support that skill. Knowledge and abilities are two
different things,” Sophia said.
Jon sighed into it. The air was okay, but it had a flavor he couldn’t identify. He approached the alter. It
looked strange in the light he cast, its shadows moved as he did. There was a stone before the alter. A
Torchlight was attached. He touched it. No response.
“Hello?” Jon said.
“Its capacitor is likely drained. I could charge,” Sophia said.
“Proceed,” Jon said.
There was a stirring of air and he had a sudden twinge of hope.
“Have you lost your ever loving mind?”
He turned to see Loxy in the room. His Loxy, from the ship, likely having been shifted over by site to
site transport. Her suit was illuminated. She came at him.
“This is place is not safe. It could cave in and be flooded in moments,” Loxy continued. She was in
grappling distance. “We have protocols for a reason…” She stopped. “Why are you crying?”
“I lived the better half of a life here,” Jon said. “With you.”
“With me?” Loxy asked. She saw the Torchlight, christened ‘Solarchariot.’ She embraced him.
“It wasn’t just a dream,” Jon said.
A capacitor kicked on and the Hall of Ghosts illuminated around them. They separated, but held hands.
“TL?” Jon asked.
No response.
“It could take moment for all the systems to reboot back up,” Loxy said.
Jon led her to the center of the floor.
“What?” Loxy asked.
He let go of her hand, and formerly bowed.
“What are you doing?” Loxy asked.
He raised his hands and made himself available.
Loxy smirked, amused. “Seriously. What are you doing?”
He closed the distance, took her hand and positioned it behind him, put a hand in the small of her back,
and held hands. And he sang ‘you send me,’ 1957 Sam Cooke, a slow version, and swayed with her.
By the time the song was midway, there was a full orchestra, and ghosts danced the floor. She barely
saw them, as she only had eyes for him. That is, until Rock approached, carrying a pillow, a diamond
ring tied to it.
“You’re going to want this,” he said.
“What is all this?”
“The childhood and origin life you didn’t have,” Jon said. “Music and dance and me.”
“Until we are up to full operation and the walls are fortified, I recommend you return to the ship,” Rock
said. “We have a lot to discuss. Start with the information coded in this ring.” He looked to Jon. “A lot of
Bothans died to bring this to you.”
Jon hugged Rock. “Nice to see you, too.”
Jon and Loxy withdrew to beam out. Jon stopped the process, ran and collected the Torchlight, and
returned.
“I am never going anywhere without you,” Jon told her. “Scotty, two to beam up.”
“There is no Scotty,” Loxy said.
“Well, there should be,” Jon said.
“And no one ever said that,” Loxy said.
“Movie?” Jon said.
“In TOS,” Loxy said. Belonging to NôvelDrama.Org.
“True enough,” Jon said. “Energize.”
It would take time for Loxy to integrate all the memories available to her. There were a dozen rings, but
she held the latest with the most recent memories. There were a treasure trove of diamonds- memories
from people that Shen had known while living there. Pleasant memories. Sad memories. People
trusting TL to get him a message. They had evidence he was dead. There were rumors alive and well
in the underworld. There was planet history. There was an invitation by the Others to come through this
world to a world between, a Starless place that would remain a permanent bridge to the adjoining
universe. There was evidence that Shen’s life helped shaped the peaceful nature of the present
citizens on the surface on this side. They traveled the gates to the between world and the far worlds.
Humans and other life forms were welcomed on the far side. A greater dialogue with other galactic
beings was requested.
For Jon and his ship, this First Contact was, in Cundy’s words, ‘unprecedented.’ There was evidence
for temporal interventions. A committee of Fleet and Others participated, and what Shen had
experienced in terms of outer influences, took shape in the present moment, his future affecting his
past. He volunteered to stay out of it.
Loxy found him in his room, tearful. She saw the people he had lived with. He saw his children. Their
children. And then, one day, there were no new recordings.
“Again?”
“Sorry. It was only yesterday,” Jon said.
Loxy set on the bed with him. “I feel it,” Loxy said.
There were two ways to experience recorded memories. You could live it as alive and there, or you
could experience it as a memory that you access in degrees. She was doing both. She put a hand on
his knee and moved in closer to him.
“You don’t have any requests for life improvements?”
“If you change it too much, I might not make the same decisions,” Jon said. “Honestly, I had all my
needs met.”
“Social?”
“Sometimes I had those met. Some of that was on me,” Jon said. “I am sorry.”
“For?”
“I thought I would be a better dancer now than just swaying,” Jon said.
“Your swaying has improved,” Loxy said. She took his hand and squeezed, giving him a look.
“Seriously, that was funny. Somewhere, someone is laughing.” She settled closer, touched her head to
his. “You could not have given me a better present. You gave me a tulpa life, then you raised me to
person status, and then you gave me freedom to explore all the worlds you know, some you haven’t
even realized yet, and now, you have given me a history. This childhood you gave me... I love you so
much.”
They sat on the end of their bed, looking out into space. There was the world below. There were stars.
There was the Milky Way laid out for them, the full of it. It was the largest structure visible from this
location. This world would likely become a tourist trap for astronomers. There was talk of bringing this
world a moon. An artificial moon slash space station. A moon would fortify the stability of the system. A
moon placed at the same distance from their planet as Earth’s moon was from it would in one instance
provide full eclipses of the sun, but also eclipse the center of the galaxy, bringing out details in the
surrounding galactic halo.
“So, what’s next?” Jon asked.
“Oh, I don’t know. We will tie up all the temporal loop loose ends, and then return to exploring, I
suppose,” Loxy said. “Still a lot cartographic darkness to light up.”
“Interesting way to spin it,” Jon said.
Loxy’s heart point on her suit lit and echoed ripples to her sleeve. She took it privately.
“Duty calls,” Loxy said.
Loxy stood but he held her hand. She hovered near by, her knees touching his. She searched his face
for meaning. He marveled at her, surrounded by the Milky Way’s stars.
“Yes?” Loxy asked.
He let go of her hand, his hands going to her hips, drawing her closer, going around to the small of her
back. He kissed her stomach. She touched him, kissing his forehead.
“I am sure we have time to play,” Loxy said.
“I want more than quick play,” Jon said.
“And yet, you’re holding me…” Loxy pointed out.
“Did you send me the Torch, or did I manifest it?” Jon asked.
“That’s a question, isn’t it?” Loxy said. “Do we recognize our own light? Can a candle light another
candle? Does the new candle hold its own? Does it maintain the spark shared? Are we Asmiov’s
machine at the end of time? Do we make it, or it makes us? Does it matter, if in the end all of love’s
light is amplified?”
“Go do your thing. Return to me,” Jon said.
“I’ll be back yesterday,” Loxy promised.
“Make tomorrow’s yesterday something to remember,” Jon said.
“I’ll see what I can cook up,” Loxy said.
“Go, now, before I change my mind about that quickie,” Jon said.
“Fuck, let me change your mind,” Loxy said.
Loxy took him full back to the bed and they played.