Page 51 of Gates of Tartarus

“That sounds personal.”

She laughs. “I think it was just my pride that was piqued. As I told Kailani, our… interlude was the result of a short-lived – very short-lived – lapse in judgment.” Her voice lowers: “To be honest, I sometimes think that the part of me that had the capacity to feel emotion died with my Sam, or at least the softer emotions. It used to bother me, but I don’t think I could do my job if I really felt. With the things I’ve seen…” Her voice trails off, and I’m about to murmur something sympathetic, when she continues. “It’s interesting, isn’t it? We’ve developed drugs to calm the mind, to stimulate it, but not to heal. Not really. Take a psychopath or a sociopath. We can give them lithium, to control aggression and impulsive behavior, or anti-depressants to modulate anger, but can wecureantisocial personality disorder? No. Wouldn’t it be wonderful if there were a drug that could reach inside the mind and unlock the potential to feel? And what else could we do, if only we knewmore? Scientists used to say we only use ten percent of our brains. That’s not true, of course, and yet we still know so very little about it. Take you. You have the ability to see distant events in real time. It must have been there all along, just waiting to be triggered. How many other people have that ability, or others? Natural, rational, something to do with our neural network. That’s what my parents thought, you know, and that’s what our paranormal branch at Gaia is about. Really, though, it should be called ournormalbranch.” Elizabeth breaks off to give a self-conscious laugh. “Sorry. I’m wittering on.”

“No, Elizabeth. It’s fascinating.” It is. I’ve read the material that Emlyn’s given me, but Elizabeth’s right: we still know so very little. “Things seem to be on a spectrum, don’t they? At one end, people who lack the capacity to feel; at the other, people who are so in touch that they feel not only their own but others’ emotions.”

“Absolutely.” I can practically hear Elizabeth nodding. “Kailani is a case in point. Born an empath, with a heightened sensitivity to emotion. How? How do the networks in her brain differ from those of a psychopath? If we could figure that out, is there a drug we could develop to manipulate those pathways?”

“Yeah, the world would be a better place without bastards like Ratko and Tennireef. Although, can we blame psychopathy? Isn’t that giving them an ‘out’?”

“Oh dear. Discussions as to the nature of good and evil are beyond me, I’m afraid.” There’s a pause, as if she’s glanced at her watch. “Well, Maela, Fallon gave me the evening off, but she doesn’t know I haven’t actually finished a speech I need to give tomorrow, so I’ll have to run. But let’s keep in touch.”

“I’d like that, Elizabeth. It’s been really nice chatting with you.” She’s like a really cool older sister or young aunt, and I’m dying to know more about Gaia’s “normal” branch.

“For me, too.” Her smile comes through the telephone: “Perhaps we should set up a ‘girls only’ channel, you, me, and Kailani. After all, the men are so territorial, and the pair of you let them walk all over you. I’m going to work on your backbones, you know.”

“Elizabeth!” I protest. “Have a heart. I can be a harpy when I have to.”

“Glad to hear it!” She laughs. “Speak soon, Maela.”

I spend a long time thinking after we hang up. Elizabeth’s right. Empathy, clairvoyance, all the other “paranormal” abilities – what part of our brains do they correspond to? Can we map them? I close my eyes and drift off, visions of neurons sparking and flaring like torches in the night sky.

Secrets and Safety

Monday, 12 November – Kailani

Frowning, I try to lift my arm again to pull back my hair but wince sharply. My shoulder just doesnotwant to lift after Friday’s fall. I spent the weekend recuperating at home with Gemma, Lachy coming by to bring us food and wood for our fireplace. Gemms had been beside herself when she got home, yelling at Lachy and then me for not letting her know about the accident. We’d mumbled excuses about not wanting to disturb her, which was evidently the wrong course of action, and I’d paid for it by being forcibly confined to the couch all weekend,Gemma glaring at me if I moved to do something for myself in any way. She wouldn’t even let me get water, jumping up every time I’d so much as twitched. The worry was pouring off of her like rain from a gutter, worry and guilt, so I just sat still like a good girl and let her hover. It made her feel better but was suffocating.

Neither Lach nor Gemms had wanted me to go to work today, but we had to review Friday night and work through our options, so Gemma had driven me in, a list of cautions and carefuls rattled off every five seconds. “... And don’tliftanything!” she’d yelled out as a final admonition as I walked into work. I’d waved in response and breathed a small sigh of relief when I finally got to the office. That relief was quickly cut off when I walked through the doors this morning. I hate wearing my hair down at work – it draws an unexpected amount of attention, which makes me really uncomfortable. I prefer to wear my hair back or braided whenever I’m on the job.

Shifting slightly in my seat, I try again, but the little lightning bolts of pain jerk me to a quick halt.

“Need some help?” Jonah asks quietly, but I hesitate for several reasons. First, and not the least, is that it would feel... I don’t know. Too intimate, too vulnerable, for work. Or in general for that matter. I don’t let anyone touch my hair other than Gemma, and even then, it’s on rare occasions. Culturally, it’s just not something I share with anyone. But I’m at war with myself, because I don’t know which I’d rather do – let Jonah pull my hair back for me or walk around with it loose all day, which many people at the station see as a tacit invitation to comment on its length, or waviness, or, God forbid, reach out and stroke it. It seems incredible to me that another grown-ass adult would feel comfortable just grabbing my hair at a work place, but they fucking do it whenever I leave it down.

Jonah waits patiently, not pushing, and I’m reminded of how much our cultures share, and how he knows what he is offering, and I know he won’t be offended if I turn him down. Next to me Hideo smirks slightly, an unusual expression on his normally calm face, and he mutters under his breath, “No chance, Shotridge.”

Jonah shrugs and, still smiling, says, “Offers on the table if you want help, Kai.” I smile back softly at him, not replying, and he and Deo go back to the work in front of them, organizing for the morning meeting. Walker and Maddox are still having their quiet conversation, though from their expressions it’s not work related. There is a surprisingly comfortable air in the room, like we’ve found our rhythm as a team. We all know that we need about half an hour after arriving to get our individual thoughts in order and that Maddox will call us to order around 8:30. We’ll brief each other with any new information, or bring up points we’d like to address that day, and then take a quick coffee break at 9:30 or so before really attacking the day.

After a few minutes of thinking it over, I sigh and say quietly, “Hey, Jonah?”

He looks up at me questioningly, and I ask hesitantly, “Can you... do you know how to braid?”

Jonah stills, like a deer in the forest, and Deo’s head jerks up sharply at my question, his eyes narrow and glinting, hard shards of flint in the light.

“Of course,” Jonah answers carefully. “Would you... do you want me to braid for you?” The question is low and cautious, but a wild pulse of joy washes out from him, sharp and bright like the scream of an eagle, before it is cut off suddenly, his face fierce with concentration.

Maddox and Walker notice the tension and look over curiously at Jonah, Deo, and myself. Deo’s face is unexpectedly dark, laced with anger, and a swirl of frustration pushes out from him before he suddenly gets up from the table, bites out, “Going for coffee,” and leaves the room. Both Walker’s and Maddox’s eyes widen in surprise, but Jonah is focused completely on me and walks over to stand behind me, holding out a hand for my comb, which I offer up wordlessly.

He takes it and carefully, almost reverently, combs through one side of my hair, separating the sections meticulously. “Do you have a spray bottle, or is it still wet enough?” he asks under his breath, and I look up at him and smile.

“Youdoknow braiding,” I say, almost breathlessly. The feel of his hands combing through my hair is mind-numbingly good, my muscles relaxing into his ministrations unintentionally, and I half close my eyes, stifling a moan. “It’s good enough for now. I’ll have Gemms re-braid tonight.”

He stops for a second, then says, low and sweet, “It’ll be done right, Kai. You won’t have to have her re-braid. Can you drop your shields just a little?”

Looking at him curiously, I lower my walls ever so slightly, just enough to feel the happiness pouring off him in waves, and the feeling is so clean and so pure that I leave them down as he starts braiding one side, reciting quietly, “So yes, her eyes are blue, and yes, your eyes are brown, but your eyes hold the riches that are buried in the ground. Her eyes carry storms and rage like the sea, your eyes carry earthquakes that bring mountains to their knees…”

I reach up a hand to my shoulder and grab his hand briefly, squeezing it, and he squeezes mine back, then returns to carefully weaving my strands. Walker, who has been watching the proceedings with a hawk’s eye, walks over and mutters, “This is going to take forever. I’ll do your other side.” He reaches out, and I jerk back into Jonah, who drops the braid he was working on to steady me. A flare of hurt, sharp like the edge of a knife, slices off Walker across me, and I press my hand to my heart for a moment, not expecting his reaction.

Walker’s face doesn’t change at all, but he says defensively, “What? Jesus. I braided my sisters’ hair all the time before the…well.” He clears his throat gruffly, and continues. “Anyway. The point is, I can braid girls’ hair. I can even tie bows and shit. I was just trying to help.”

---