CHAPTER INTERLUDE II
Excerpts from the Chief Communicator’s Occasional Log, Clara Freaks Out
December 29, 2012
No matter what happens to me, don’t stop believing in the possibility of a better future. I write this section as I look out the window at the overcast sky and wish for rain.
It almost never rains here. As a New England transplant and Midwest-raised girl, I often disparage the sunny sameness of this climate.
I miss having weather to match or even cause my moods. If it were storming today, my gloomy thoughts would have a proper setting.
I could die in any of a hundred timelines, versions in which I am or am not going to meet The Band and become the Chief Communicator for Earth. Someone else can be the liaison for Earth for the Many Worlds Collective, but many of the other events could be similar and possibly identical.
Or, I could become the CC but not stay in this post for thirty years, due to death, resignation or other ways I stop being the CC. Someone else could take my place or there could be a new configuration which does not utilize a CC as liaison.
I may or not be with Epifanio. We may acknowledge our love and be together, married or not, for thirty or forty years. Or, one of us dies amid or before that romantic time. Or, he keeps believing he does not love me. Or or or.
Having “previews” doesn’t avail me of knowledge of my future the way I would like it to. Most of the time, I only get glimpses, pieces, fragments. They’re out of sequence, incomplete, and, as I frequently explain, difficult to interpret and understand.
Plus, WHICH future am I seeing? How many factors change, timelines re-braid, diverge?
Timulting is not exact. It can't be.
I am considering all of this and the ways these complicate my writing when I feel that pleasant sense of anticipation and greeting that accompany a visit from one of The Band. I look toward my front door.
Even though they’re holograms, they already learn from me that the convention of entering through the front door works best for Earthers (versus simply appearing, or moving through a wall or ceiling). Most of the time, they follow this convention.
Having no corporeal presence, they usually don’t knock, so Led makes his version of a throat-clearing noise, something I suggest to them early on. This serves to let me know where they are and when they arrive.
Hello, Led. Then I say aloud: “Hi! What’s new?”
“Hello, Clara,” Led greets me. It takes a few visits, but they all finally call me just “Clara,” which I prefer. “We receive a distress signal and I am the first to respond.”
“Distress?” I ask. “From where or whom?”
“From you,” Led replies, his blue-grey, beachball-sized shape floats slowly around my room, then hovers close to me for the next lines. He says. “Your thoughts and ruminations send out signals to us at all times, especially when they’re disorganized, confused, angry, sad, scared or otherwise off-balance. These are interpreted as ‘distress,’” Led tells me, hovering closer to me and exuding that calming effect he can turn on at will. “If we scan the content and believe we can be helpful, one or more of us comes to work with you, immediately.”
“Oh,” I say, sounding overly bright to myself, “like a ‘Bat signal’?” Great. I can’t even freak out privately anymore.
I turn toward Led’s hovering, griseous, ovoid image and ask: “How am I supposed to cope with all of these changes and possibilities, alterations in timelines, variations in versions, without contemplating and then emoting upon my considerations? I have no Earthers I can ask or process all of this with, you know.” I remind him of my isolation and uniqueness here.
Two more *POP*s indicate Janis—Diana are now here as well. I must be more upset that I realize.
Janis moves toward me with Diana right behind her. They’re not usually more than a few centimeters apart in their green pickle bodies, even in hologram forms.
I feel a spark of envy of their pair bond. “What do I do if I never have a partner? It’s bad enough that I might be without Epifanio except as a distant friend, but do I have no one else?” I startle myself by saying this aloud.
“And,” I continue, feeling the immensely strong upsurge of my many questions, emotions and disturbances, which I must have suppressed up until now, “I need processing time, partners or counselors—help—to become the best CC that I can be. I am quite cooperative and willing, but you must understand: this is all very strange, new and unnerving for me. I need time and space, phases and methods to assist me with adjusting. 'I am only an egg.'” This last comes out as a bit of a wail. I am upset.
Janis—Diana seem to exchange an unspoken communication by wiggling and touching each other, then move even closer to me.
I start to move away but resist.
Led bounces a few times then says: “Robert Heinlein aside, Clara, we are very glad that this is happening, now. We are wondering what takes so long for your reaction to occur.”
Diana adds, “In fact, if you do not bring these issues to us this week or next, we have plans to induce this state in order for them to arise. They must occur and you must, as you say, ‘process,’ in order to move ahead with your training and work as liaison.”
“Excellent!” Janis says, matching my earlier brightness, but hers is authentic, “This is right on schedule! Good job! You better understand and have more compassion for your Fragmenters, even your Trenchers and Psi-Defiers, from these experiences.”
I am rather stunned. “You mean, I’m supposed to have a meltdown?”
“Actually,” Led answers, “we are surprised every day, so far, that you do not have, as you say, any melting down. Other locations’ liaisons react much more strongly and negatively right from the first visitation, usually, or much earlier than you. Many are so frightened that we have to use hypnosis or other tools to calm them down. Some even quit and join the opposition forces.” Led says this last part in a tone I rarely hear from him, one I can only describe as sorrowfully angry.
I surprise myself, again, by feeling my eyes fill with tears. I allow this since crying seems quite necessary and long overdue. My chest feels tight; I know the best release is to let the sobs increase and wind down naturally, so I continue.
There are very few thoughts. Mostly the feeling is one of loss, closely accompanied by fear and confusion. How do I do this alone with no Earther to support me? The Band is great, but they are not enough, not exactly what I always need. I need a friend!
I yearn for my favorite version of Epifanio and for more understanding versions of my family or friends to talk with, to share deeply about all of this. But I know these versions won't even want to hear about this, yet, and many ate never able to understand my experience, even when they want to be supportive. Most are more excited about my new role and the improvements in Earth’s conditions than empathetic about what I am losing, facing and fearing.
If I am doing all of this without a partner, for now, and without Epifanio, ever, who else has the courage and interest to be with me, once I’m well-known as the Chief Communicator? How does the most public and possibly powerful Earther ever get a date with someone new?
This brings a fresh wave of crying and I yield to it. I am so Psi-Ped [Pronounced sigh-peed; see Appendix C, any Volume, for Glossary].
A fresh wave of sobs engulfs me as I remember the choices I have yet to make, will make, have already made: SHIT. I hate multiverse verb tenses! I can’t even talk clearly about my grief!
I pound on my thighs, futilely, as I cry. Every Psi-Penalty, or Psi-P, I ever have to pay flows through my mind, most of them involving relinquishing Epifanio, one way or another.
No matter how many time and ways I timult, I must choose between my personal satisfaction or temporary happiness and more lasting, global harmony and peace. What kind of a choice is that, especially for a Buddhist who has taken vows—and I really BELIEVE in my vows—not to harm, to be less selfish? Every single one of my Psi-Ps reveals a trade that
must be made with great sorrow and sacrifice, but, I hope, with honor and integrity.
Sometimes, as I find out throughout my years as CC, the Psi-P is known only to the one paying the price; sometimes, others know or are told; some Psi-Ps are quite public, especially during Transition, so most Earthers eventually understand that timulting carries a cost: a Psi-P is usually necessary. Knowing I’m not the only one who gets Psi-Ped (read: heartbroken), does help, somehow.
But, every time I allow the enormity of what I forgo if I have to renounce any timelines that include Epifanio's loving and being with me, I want to have a full-blown tantrum. I wait how many--30!!--years for it to be "our time," but our happiness is derailed by world and multiverse needs and conditions? Really? Is that the thanks I get?
Eventually, I feel my tears ebbing. No solutions, but I somehow feel better and more able to face what lies ahead.
I joke aloud, knowing these three are following my internal trials, “Is there some kind of dating service for liaisons? How about therapists? Support groups? What about privacy screens I can erect, anywhere, inside or out?”