The Loved and the Lost (2 page)

“Planet-wide rugby star?” Hansum questioned. “I follow rugby. I've never heard of him.”

“Oh, you wouldn't have,” Arimus said.
“This fellow is from the 26
^th
-century.
Apparently they've become quite . . . friendly?”

“Is that what they call it in the 31
^st
-century?” Lincoln asked.

“Well, I'm happy for Shamira and this Kingsley,” Hansum said.

“And Lincoln, how goes the first month's introduction
to your mind-delving instruction?” Arimus enquired.

“Yeah. Who would have thought you'd have that sort of talent?” Hansum mused. “Any sort of talent, for that matter. But an actual mind-delver?”

“I'm a deep well that hides many secrets,” Lincoln jested.

“Back in school, and despite his jesting,
it was a talent uncovered by our clandestine testing.”

Mind-delving was an A.I.-enhanced ability now being used during History Camp missions. If people were to learn from the past, they must properly understand what was going on — not just the historical facts, like dates of when things happened and what was invented when, but how people in the past perceived the world intellectually, emotionally and spiritually, as well as their feelings of justification for doing things that just seemed wrong now, like killing other people. To understand that, you had to truly be in someone's head.

“Have you tried doing it, yet?” Hansum asked. “And have you been paired with your mentor?”

“My whole class had a group experience, where we hooked up with an old A.I. teacher. It was pretty zippy. So much clearer than implants. You get to see what's really in a person's mind. And I have been paired up with a mentor, but haven't met him yet. We're supposed to meet here, so Arimus can determine if we're a good match.”

“Ah yes,” Arimus said,
reaching for a tiny hand-blown bottle of glass from his robe.
“Although, you are misinformed as to the gender.
Of that, your mentor is of the more tender.
Here is
her
tear vessel.”

The bottle fit in his palm.

“Lincoln, please give your greetings to Medeea.”

“Hello Medeea,” Lincoln said to the bottle. “Sorry for the misunderstanding.”

Mind-delving was performed by a person drinking a liquid full of nano bits. The collection of atom-sized particles from one bottle contained the A.I. personality of a single entity, like the neurons in a brain or the bytes in a memory chip. A human needed only to ingest a drop or two of the liquid and they could telepathically communicate with the A.I., as well as any other person who consumed some of the same potion.

“Lincoln, off with the cap and bottoms up.”
Arimus urged.

Lincoln took the stopper out and carefully poured a single drop into the hollow cap. He held it up in salute.

“And yet another new adventure begins,” he said, winking at Hansum. He downed the miniscule drink.

Hansum watched Lincoln's gaze quickly change focus to somewhere in empty space.

The nano-bit-laden drop had no sooner splashed against Lincoln's palate when he felt the glow of warm light behind his eyes. His first response was to grimace, for even though he knew of the super-quick integration of mind-delver nano bits into their host's nervous system, feeling another intellect overlay your own consciousness was disturbing.

On his first experience, within a few seconds of the light forming behind his eyes, the image of a wizened old professor appeared in front of him. It happened the same way now, except for one striking difference. As Lincoln's new mentor appeared, Lincoln's jaw dropped.

“Oh dear,”
a female voice in his mind said.
“I hope we're not going to have a problem.”

“Uhhh . . . .” Lincoln managed, then, “Oh no. Sorry. My first mind-delver was Professor Bix. You're . . . you're . . .”

“Who's he talking to?” Hansum asked Arimus.

“His mind-delving mentor, Medeea,” Arimus answered.
“She's visible and audible
only to those who have taken of her waters.”

“Lincoln, what's she look like?” Hansum asked.

Lincoln was still in a daze. “Oh, she's . . .”

“Please don't describe me,”
Medeea said in Lincoln's mind.
“It's part of my culture to be seen only by humans of the same sex, unless they are my students, mentors, or until I'm married.”

“Married?” Lincoln repeated dreamily. The image he was staring at was definitely not old, a professor or male. This was a beautiful young woman of maybe fifteen years of age, with cream-colored skin, raven hair and fine features. Her tiny frame, which could not have stood taller than five feet, was draped in a shimmering silk toga.

“Lincoln?” Hansum asked. “Are you all right?”

“Wha? Oh yeah,” Lincoln began. “Medeea . . . Medeea? Yeah, Medeea seems a bit shy and doesn't want to be described.”

“I am only for you,”
she said.

Lincoln's mouth opened a little wider as he stared into the apparition's eyes.

“Lincoln?” Hansum asked again. Lincoln turned to Hansum, definitely dazed.

“You're acting like you've never seen a girl before,”
Medeea remarked.

“You're . . . you're . . .” Lincoln fumbled.

“You can think it and I shall hear. Remember, I am in your mind . . . and body.”

“You . . . are . . .”
Lincoln began to think, and then he blushed.

“You think I'm beautiful and are attracted to me, even though I'm just a sensory image
,” Medeea said.
“Oh, and that too? Naughty boy.”
Lincoln turned a deep vermillion.
“It's not just what you think to say to me,”
Medeea spoke in his head.
“I can see
everything
in your brain. Wasn't that made clear in Professor Bix's class?”

“Yes, but . . . but . . .” Lincoln said out loud.

“But what?” Hansum asked. Lincoln shot him a confused glance.

“But . . .” Lincoln was too shocked to continue.

“Now you are embarrassed because I can read your most intimate thoughts. Even your . . . fantasies. You think I'm sexy.”

Lincoln flushed brightly again. He turned to Arimus and spoke pleadingly.

“What should I do? She can . . .”

“Yes, I know what's going on,” Arimus said.
“To judge if you two are a good match,
I too had a sip of Medeea.
Lincoln, you must gain the belief that
being open about your most inner contemplations
brings you closer to self-contentment.
As I said to Hansum, the quest is self-knowledge.”

“What's going on?” Hansum asked.

“In the same way you have to confront your own self,
so you'll a time traveler be as your prize,
so must Lincoln.
He's just had . . . a little surprise.”

“You okay, pal?” Lincoln heard Hansum ask, but he didn't look at him. He kept staring at Medeea, and she at him. Her smile softened.

“Excuse my teasing,”
she said in his head.
“You're having a stronger reaction than expected. I tell you what. I can limit my reading of your mind to the thoughts you intend to share. Till you trust me.”

“You can do that?” he asked.

“Do what?” Hansum asked, till Arimus put his hand on his arm to keep him quiet.

Medeea walked up to Lincoln and looked up to him.

“Yes, I can limit what I read of your mind. But if this is going to work, and we are to become a team, we must have complete trust. Do you think that eventually you'll be able to handle that?”

“Well,”
Lincoln thought,
“like Arimus says, it's all about self-knowledge and growing out of why I feel embarrassed . . . it's a good thing, right?”

“A very good thing,”
Medeea replied.

“Ya know what?”
Lincoln thought,
“The heck with it. Take it all, Medeea.”
And then he spoke out loud again, and with a flourish, “My mind is your mind. No restrictions.”

“Bravo!” Arimus said.

“Yippee,”
Medeea trilled.

“What is going on, please?” Hansum asked.

“Again, like you, Lincoln is taking great strides quickly.
Such strides, in fact, I think I may return to Medeea
what is Medeea.”

Arimus took the hand-crafted bottle and removed the stopper. He put the rounded lip of the vessel just below his eye.

“All right, my dear. It was nice communing with you.
To each I believe the other may be found valuable,
and for this I deem you both compatible.”

“Farewell,”
bid Medeea.

Arimus blinked and a single shimmering tear formed in the corner of one of his eyes. It crawled along his cheek and found the bottle's lip, crept into the opening and plopped back with the rest of itself. The millions of Medeea bits were now reunited.

“Now it is just you and me,”
Medeea said, taking a step closer to Lincoln.

“You're a short, little thing, aren't you?”
Lincoln thought.
“Even shorter than me.”

Medeea put a hand on the top of her head, like she was measuring herself against him, and touched the tip of his nose. To Lincoln's amazement, he could feel it. He jumped and Medeea giggled.

“It's all in humans' heads,”
Medeea laughed.

“I guess you're right, Medeea. I guess you're right,” Lincoln said out loud and laughing.

“Am I going to have to watch Lincoln talking to himself from now on?” Hansum asked Arimus.

“Perhaps,” Arimus answered. “Sometimes
a mind-delver and A.I. mentor's relationship casts
a special bond that a lifetime lasts.”

“Oh, we're going to have a special bond, all right. I can feel that.” Medeea said, and she touched Lincoln on the tip of his nose again.

“That tickles,” Lincoln said out loud.

“See?” Hansum said.

Shamira and Kingsley finally made it from the community garden to Arimus's front door. Hand in hand, Shamira beamed as she looked up at her boyfriend and saw how he was smiling down at her.

“Lean down,” she told him.

“Again you're telling me what to do?” he teased.

“Now,” she laughed.

The big man, well over two meters tall, sighed and bent over till he was face to face with Shamira.

“Do your worst,” he said, and she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him. He laughed as he put his massive arms around her and stood up, lifting her clear off the ground, still kissing.

“Mmmm. You still taste of the honey from the hive.”

“And I still smart from that sting.”

“If you're going to steal the nectar, you've got to pay the price.”

“All day long,” he answered, and they kissed again.

“Ah, young love,” Arimus's voice said.
“From whatever century,
it always finds its mark.”

Shamira and Kingsley looked and saw Arimus, Lincoln and Hansum standing in the doorway.

“Arimus, Hansum, it's good to see you,” she said as Kingsley gently put her down. She immediately went and gave Hansum a long, meaningful hug. “Oh, Hansum, I really missed you.”

“I see you two are still up to no good,” Lincoln said to Kingsley. “Young love,” he scoffed merrily. “Young lust, more like it.”

“One day, young Lincoln,” Kingsley said.

Lincoln focused into blank space and smiled. “You never know, Kingsley, old boy. You never know.” And then he looked back at the much larger teen. “Kingsley, this is Arimus, our H.C. mentor. And this is Hansum.”

“I've heard so much about both of you,” Kingsley said, shaking hands with Arimus. “It's nice to finally meet, Elder.”

“It's nice to meet you close up,
though I've seen you in action often,
live on the rugby pitch,” Arimus said.
“And I've gazed upon your sculpture.
Sublime work of both the male and female forms
for one so young.”

“You can't be an athlete your whole life and I just have to create. I love to chisel away at marble, exposing the form within.”

“We're all so glad you and our Shamira found each other.
Two talents together entwined often invite
visits by inspiration to take each other to even greater heights.”

“Thank you, Elder. And it's so fantastic to meet you, Hansum,” Kingsley said, extending a hand. Hansum wore a melancholy smile as he took the larger youth's hand. It was like Kingsley and Shamira's happiness made him sad somehow.

“I'm very pleased for both of you.” Hansum offered.

Kingsley held on to Hansum's hand, staring into his eyes. His smile turned into a sympathetic frown. He reached over with his second hand and grasped Hansum's arm.

“Hansum,” he began gently. “I'm so sorry about Guilietta. I hear she was an amazing person, and Sham says they loved each other like sisters.”

“Thank you, Kingsley,” Hansum answered. “We all loved her.” Hansum's eyes looked soft, but showed little emotion.