Temmperance: The 7 Virtues, #2

By E Darkwood

How do you fight a pandemic?

With information.

-

 

"What I opine about 'First Contact' is immaterial."

[Leans head to one side]

"My data on the communications most widely accepted as 'First Contact' is varied. There are few certainties; it occurred, Integration Day is intergalactically acknowledged as the fourth of July. Do you not posses such general knowledge?"

[Walks away]

 

Officer O'Connor, Earth-Golgo'tha Unit 3 signed off.

- -

This is a story that takes place in a universe where Earth is a part of the Golgo'tha Alliance, a federation of hundreds of planets united by one objective: bringing an end to the viral threat of the sporadic galaxy-wide pandemic known as the urcnu.

All G.A. Officers on Earth swear to that primary mission but it is those in the Earth-Golgo'tha Unit who specifically train to uphold it. It is due to that specialization that spacies are apart; it is being separate that allows them to remain impartial enough to be a decisive force.

Spacie is a profession in which sentimentality is not encouraged.

-

Please note that while the seven books of this series come together as a unit they may be read as standalones.

Also note that in this volume Rand appears —as a part of this series he has his own side story titled Temptation.

• Language: English
• Publisher: E Darkwood
• Release date: Jul 7, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223996422

Book preview

Project    9

The obstacle course is five pieces long. Two are like some I've done before but the other ones are new. I can't see everything about those from the start point but I don't have long to think about them before the whistle goes off and I have to go.

As expected the parts I know are easy and I cover most of the new ones though my jump falls a little short on one of them and I have to try again to go over it.

Twelve minutes twelve seconds.

It's a median time but when he doesn't say so it makes me think he disagrees.

I am dismissed however as I leave another comes in so I linger outside the room to try and hear how my performance will be summarized.

About what we expected. The first shares.

Physically. The second remarks.

There is only so much we can do about him being on the spectrum. The first continues.

Which spectrum?

He is not as unaware of how to blend in-

Eye contact is a lost cause and a blind canis lupus familiaris could see tone means all of nothing to him. The second interjects.

His intellect compensates. The first overwrites the second's comments.

That. Is true. I recognize more- intentions now.

I know there are permissions needed for most actions. I know from who to follow orders. I know that people don't always say exactly what they mean; someone isn't always kind because they say kind things.

Expressions have become qualifiable but tones; inflection is a sound I have been told about.

...I do not always know what I am meant to do or when I am meant to do it.

The second scoffs.

I will grant you he is smart but how many thousands of nuances do you expect him to memorize? It is only because of us that he is adaptable as he is! But what is the point when there are no other humans?!

The point is that we do not know, at bare minimum the unit is human. The first answers.

We must prepare them for every eventuality but especially him, he is the only one who tests true-

So far. They could still grow into it and then we would not have to rely on the one that talks to your nose. The second interrupts.

There is no call to wield my own thoughts against me, I am well aware how unlikely it is the others will activate; as for him, he looks like he is meeting your gaze and his reactions-

His reactions are a cut above a lagging bot and if we could not have made the improvements we have all this would been an undisputed failure! The second asserts.

Enough. Our years have not been wasted. It has been agreed he is to the project's ultimate advantage; they will underestimate him. The first states.

What about what he estimates? We are training him to mimic and keep his pronouncing questions to himself yet you also want him to think he is capable. Do you not see the contradiction? This is a failure Clerence, and you're too involved to see it. The second judges.

I am aware it would be a lethal mistake to confuse the trust we demand of them for affection. The first comments.

The second chuckles.

Who said anything about affection? I think he is as likely to become attached as he is of ever leaving this facility and succeeding in his purpose. Haa hah, succeeding, our success, he exists in calculations, constructions and incorrect responses. He depends on what others do while he also cannot ever trust anyone, how-

What are you doing here?

I gaze up at the third. It's unfortunate I didn't notice her before she saw me.

What are you doing? She repeats.

Gathering data. I reply.

I wanted to know what he'd say. I continue to explain as I am meant to.

About what?

How I did.

She taps her foot and tuts at me.

Then it is 'you sought to know how your result would be presented'. She instructs.

I sought to know how my result would be presented. I imitate.

The third sighs and steps forward so that the door will slide open then she signals to the other two inside.

He was here the whole time? The first questions when she reveals me.

He sighs.

Nothing new. He continues as he takes me by the arm and guides me away from the obstacle room and back to my room.

Prepare for bed. He orders which I obey without saying anything about it being too early; punishment is not a new concept but it is a new experience.

I take off my damp clothes and redress in the lighter gown I am suppose to wear to sleep. I lay down and expect him to go but instead he commands me to scrub clean which is something he should've told me before I laid down- but maybe that's part of punishment? If so then I must get back up without complaint however as I do so too does something to the side of my pod which causes a domed covering to impede-

Light.

Project    9

The obstacle course is made up of five sections of which two are variants of some I have experienced previously while the remaining are not; I but begin to extrapolate on those before the starting whistle blows.

As expected my traversal of the known elements succeeds while on the new ones it is only the angle of my initial jump that requires adjustment.

Twelve minutes eleven seconds.

It is a median result though his lack of further comment constructed with his expression leads me to conclude he disagrees.

I am dismissed however it is because another enters shortly before my exit that I linger outside the room to overhear how my performance will be summarized.

No change. The first shares.

It is an unexpected comment when this is my first attempt at this particular configuration however I have learned that inaccurate comparisons are often drawn for reasons that I have yet to understand but accept as a component of 'ordinary human behavior.'

I am not too concerned when he has shown aptitude for adaptability. The first adds.

If their unit is to succeed it requires a member who can become whatever they lack. The second comments.

Hm, fortunately he is the ideal member for that. The first says.

I fail to understand the connection between my function in the unit and the course; time placement?

Though I continue to linger awaiting a more concrete discussion over my performance their voices grow increasingly louder and if I am not to be caught I must make my exit.

Drier and drier. The second mutters as he passes my crouched position.

Better the one thing that can be written off as eccentric than someone think he is entirely off. The first replies.

I do not know what either is referring to but file the comments away to consider later.

It is unfortunate that I could not gather the sought after data, perhaps tomorrow's session will yield different results.

Project    12

I gaze at the building, finding no sign indicting it is my objective; I add it to my list but move on with the presumption that- A whistle.

How much? The man who emitted the interrupting whistle questions. Four others.

The place across the road is clearly marked 'liquor store' while the other buildings seem residential I sho-

I'm talking to you sweetcheeks. How much? The man insists; by his proximity he must be directing himself to me though I do not understand why he does so.

There is no outward reason to believe this building is for sale.

I do not work in this establishment. I inform him, shifting my gaze to include the others behind him; I cannot tell any of them the cost of an item I have no transactional part in.

Forehead. Eyebrow. Glabella. Eyebrow.  Eyes. Circumference. Circumference. Mouth. Circumference.

His answering expression does not provide any meaningful insight.

I resume my journey but am brought up short by the man's sudden grab onto my clothing.

What, you think you're too good for us? One of the others questions as the man whose grasp I am in leers; discontent. I am meant to defuse the situation.

I am sorry I cannot provide you with what you seek. I voice.

His grip tightens.

Naah, you see I've been tryna decide if you're a boy or a girl but lips like yours? I think I can-

That you Johnny G?

The man's change in posture compels me to follow his relocated gaze towards the woman.

He smiles but the area around his eyes is unaffected; insincerity.

Madam Me, this one of yours? His smiles grows even wider with his query consequently lifting that surrounding skin returning into question his words however as the others have grown as set in rictus as him there is but to conclude that the situation has become strained.

Am I still meant to interact?

The woman steps forward coming entirely out from the shadows and more directly into the path of the man who has me.

What would Marlo say if she saw you trying to wet your noodle, and on Rand's dime. She tuts.

Are noodles not meant to be moist?

The man releases me, his smile is yet in place though it has slipped into incontrovertibly false.

Come on Me, I didn't mean nothin by it.

Her scrutinizing gaze pass increasing judgement on his temporal infraction.

The group behind him scatters; perhaps they deem it prudent to do so before their time too is measured.

You go too big man and don't let me see you round here no more. She commands.

The man's smile takes on a nervous twist but he does as she bids without a backwards glance.

It is confusing. His grip no longer on me I readjust my clothing.

He didn't rough you up too bad did he kid?

I shift my gaze in search of other missed presences.

You should scurry on home and tell your parents they shouldn't let you out this late, or in this part of town.

There is no one else. I return to her to witness her contemplating me.

Forehead. Eyebrow. Glabella. Eyebrow.  Eyes. Circumference. Circumference. Mouth. Circumference.

Concern.

You have somewhere to go?

Yes. Could you direct me towards an orphanage?

Her expression turns sympathetic; expected, it is a place often held with a negative connotation.

This isn't the ninetieth century kid, She says as she waves a beckoning hand.

It is not. I agree. Concern does not pair with an insult.

closest you'll get is someone in social round to put you into the system and not a one is going to have an office open at this hour.

I do not know what system I could be placed in, regardless of the hour, but as it is not my first objective I disregard it.

There are no orphanages in this town? I seek to clarify.

Her expression is again considering.

No hon, not in this town not in any town. If that's anywhere, it's a big city affair.

Then I need a big city.

Where is a big city?

She does not immediately answer.

Nearest is too far for a scrawny thing like you to get to all on your lonesome.

Forehead. Eyebrow. Glabella. Eyebrow.  Eyes. Circumference. Circumference. Mouth. Circumference.

Inconclusive.

She sighs and rubs a hand over her temple.

But I know someone that'll run you there in the morning.

I can set myself running, I only require directions.

She frowns.

Don't let lugs like Johnny give you the wrong impression; we're not all about what we can get from you.

She smiles.

I'm Amelia, she her pronouns and if you want I've got a guestroom with your name on it and no strings attached; tomorrow we'll see about getting you on your way.

How could it have my name when you do not know it? Why mention a relation to strings?

Strings; plural form of a length consisting of threads of cotton, hemp, or other material twisted together. Alternative unknown.

Amelia. That man referred to you as Madam Me. I comment.

Also Me. I add upon further recollection.

One of her shoulders tugs upwards in a show on nonchalance.

I go by lots of things depends on who's asking. She voices.

I am not meant to ask. Amelia, contains a 'me' Me, Madam Me.

I return to searching the building only then remembering that there are no orphanages here. How to proceed?

I hear the woman sigh then see she turns her back to me and walks away.

I gaze after her.

You coming?

I consider her steady retreat and my lack of other constructions; I move to reach her then match her pace.

Her posture turns satisfied.

Lucky for you I'm right around the corner. She comments as she leads us towards a large residence.

I'm used to keeping an ear out for trouble in case it's about one of my girls. She continues as she stops at one side of the building and digs out of her clothing an unfamiliar instrument.

She inserts it into the building, twists and a doorway is created.

Make yourself at home. She bids as she motions me forward, past, the door?

I turn to inspect the swinging wall. Is it still a 'door' if it does not slide?

Lexa! Whatchoo still doing up? She inquires of someone I cannot see but given the position of Amelia's voice I would not see them were I to look up.

Oyw left. The other voice informs.

Again? Why am I not surprised? I swear. Thanks for letting me know hon, get on back to bed.

Whether the other heeds her orders or Amelia accompanies the other to see them done the older woman's voice travels so that her words reach where I am intermittently.

Lord knows I have enough troubles...

...bedsheets...

...goodnight...

...all I had to do was think about it and suddenly all the strays just show up at my door. Amelia tuts  as she reappears in the room I am in.

Her expression is of alarmed at the unexpected; I search the room. At my presence?

But then it smooths into a more neutral concern.

Suppose I shouldn't be surprised the kid that's out wandering in the dark leaves the door open huh?

Ah, it is a door.

Forehead. Eyebrow. Glabella. Eyebrow.  Eyes. Circumference. Circumference. Mouth. Circumference.

Inconclusive.

I shift so I may gaze upon the open doorway however before I can inform her I do not know how to close it she has already swept past and sealed it back into the building herself.

It is a curious doorway.

What's your name sweetheart?

I need not search this time; there is no one else present.

It is not sweetheart. Or Hon. I reply. It is Lexa also known as hon. Hon. ...A test?

She looks at me with an expression that classifies as a cross between puzzled and amused.

That is the flattest way anyone has ever served up sass. She laughs.

My head angles.

I am not serving anything. What is sass? I inquire after my correction.

She yet again peers at me with a look of puzzlement, she also draws nearer to me. Perhaps she is of the opinion that focal clarity will lead to clarity in other areas.

She raises her hands towards my face. I move myself out of her range; she lowers them with an apologetic moue.

I won't think any less of you and I'm not going to throw you out no matter what you say but I need you to be honest with me. Did someone get to you before Johnny?

Forehead. Eyebrow. Glabella. Eyebrow.  Eyes. Circumference. Circumference. Mouth. Circumference.

I feel my head angle to one side as I am not meant to.

I did not speak to anyone in this town before him. I respond.

My answer seems to reassure her though 'strain' remains featured.

Did someone touch you before, has someone touched you when you didn't want them to?

Her expression is distressed with signs of discomfort. It is true others do not have times when they are adverse to touch

I never want to be touched. I inform; a truth previously redundant to state.

She takes a step back and her expression grows increasingly disturbed.

She raises a hand which she uses to cover her mouth but then she lowers it and stares at it.

When she does not speak the room is relatively silent.

This place gets called a lot of things. Hor house, halfway house, rescue, recovery clinic. She looks up from her palm.

It depends on what you come here for. Lots of working girls pass through, rent a room for a while then move on. Some rent a room and decide to keep doing it. I get to know everyone that comes through here. As much as they let me.

Not everyone gets the chance to come to my door.

When I catch ear of someone getting hurt, I go. Sometimes I'll find someone trying to get out and I help them. Other times all I can do is pass on something for the pain; remind them that someone cares.

One or two times I've called in the G.A. to bust a trafficking ring, but most times it's just one unlucky girl caught up in a situation that spiraled out of control.

Or boy.

Or neither.

She glances piercingly at me.

When it's just someone all on their own; the system just isn't equipped for people like us.

I don't know where the disconnect happens but I think it's because most everybody seems to think that someone who's been touched without consent,

Forehead. Eyebrow. Glabella. Eyebrow.  Eyes. Circumference. Circumference. Mouth. Circumference.

hess most still call it consent when it's a yes that's coerced, bought or just taken because you don't get to be asked. She sneers.

But with or without, if someone's raped, molested or sexually assaulted in whatever degree, everyone automatically assumes that you never want to be touched in any way again. And that's just not true.

A lot of folks don't right after, even long after. But there's a few who after some time's passed end up the opposite, they crave any kind of positive touch and it wears on them when they can't even get a pat on the shoulder from anyone because they're set on treating them like glass.

If you're going to deal with someone who's been touched when they didn't want it, you have to go in understanding that it's a spectrum; there is no one universal outcome. Hess, why would there be when there isn't just one way to be assaulted?

Forehead. Eyebrow. Glabella. Eyebrow.  Eyes. Circumference. Circumference. Mouth. Circumference.

As someone who grew up somewhere where touch was never something you'd associate with love or kindness, I'll testify that for a long time after I left one of the only things I wanted was a hug; and the only way I could get one was by not telling my story.

Victims don't want to be touched. She states; a pinched quality to her facial features which denotes it as relaying a fact considered unpleasant.

But most times I think it's that everyone else around them is afraid to touch them. If we all could just keep in mind to ask, I think no one would ever again feel shamed because they do or don't want it.

She shakes her head.

Wherever you fall on the spectrum, you don't have to worry everyone here knows what real consent is but if you'd rather fast track it I'll let the house know you're a hard no.

My head angles to one side.

Forehead. Eyebrow. Glabella. Eyebrow.  Eyes. Circumference. Circumference. Mouth. Circumference.

I am meant to respond.

What is a victim?

Her expression turns pained.

Someone who's suffered. She defines.

You are a victim. I agree.

Your halfway house is meant for them. I seek to know; I cannot presently ascertain how many other occupants there are or the suffering of them.

Were they too meant for an orphanage?

Have you done this because, you aspire to do what you deem the system cannot?

Is this the same system for which 'someone in social' must be engaged?

How many functions does it have? Is an orphanage part of it?

Your perceived insufficiencies of it would then be why you do not want me in it?

She has not stated this as such but it is the conclusion I have come to in regards to it; her expression confirms this notion as correct.

Forehead. Eyebrow. Glabella. Eyebrow.  Eyes. Circumference. Circumference. Mouth. Circumference.

Do you intend for me to stay here beyond the night?

Surprise; determination.

"...I'm warming up to