And? and
OUT WITH IT! The computerized psyche-prober imitated thunderstorms and symphonies filled with cymbals.
And there were wire-cored arms to rock him; and he looked out of his swaddling clothes and? and… GO ON!
? looked up into a face without a nose and with blank crystal eyes that reflected his reddened face. Unmoving black lips crooned, 'Rock-a-biiiii-bay-beeeee in theee treeeee (thriddle-thriddle) tops?' The thriddle-thriddle rattling interjection was, he found, the sound of voice tapes changing somewhere inside his mother's head. He searched for his own voice tapes. There were none.
GO ON, GO ON!
And he looked up out of swaddling clothes when he esped an understanding and? and
IF YOU HESITATE, YOU WILL BE LOST.
I don't remember it after that.
YOU DO.
No!
Yes. YESYESYES. The machine touched part of my mind with blue fingers. Dazzling clouds of neon gas exploded inside my head. I CAN MAKE THE MEMORY EVEN SHARPER.
No! I'll tell it.
TELL.
And he looked up out of swaddling clothes when he esped an understanding, and his first words were? were
FINISH IT!
His first words were: 'My God, my God, I'm not human!'
FINE. NOW RELAX AND LISTEN. My electronic David sorted through the miasma of our conversation and interpreted my dreams for me. There wasn't any simple harp music to accompany his readings, though. YOU
KNOW THAT THE 'HE' IS REALLY YOU. YOU
ARE SIMEON KELLY. THE HE OF YOUR ILLUSION IS ALSO SIMEON KELLY. YOUR PROBLEM IS
THIS: YOU ARE OF THE ARTIFICIAL WOMB. YOU
WERE CONDITIONED FROM CONCEPTION TO
HAVE HUMAN MORES AND VALUES. BUT YOU
CANNOT HOLD YOUR MANNER OF CREATION UP
TO THE LIGHT ALONGSIDE YOUR MORES AND
THEN MANAGE TO ACCEPT BOTH.
YOU ARE HUMAN. BUT YOUR MORES TEACH
YOU TO FEEL THAT YOU ARE STRANGELY
LACKING IN HUMAN QUALITIES.
Thank you. I am cured now and I must leave.
NO. The thunderstorms were firm in their denial.
THIS IS THE THIRTY-THIRD TIME YOU HAVE HAD THIS SAME ILLUSION-NIGHTMARE. YOU ARE NOT HEALED. AND THIS TIME I FEEL MORE BELOW THE SURFACE OF THE DREAM, AN ARRAY OF FRAGMENTED TERRORS WHICH SHOULD NOT BE THERE. TELL ME.
There is no more.
TELL ME. The bonds on the chair were tight around nay arms and legs. The headrest seemed to suck out the contents of my head.
Nothing.
A WOMAN. THERE IS A FEMININE SPECTER IN
THOSE TERRORS. WHO IS SHE? SIMEON, WHO IS
SHE?
An author I have read.
AND MET. TELL ME MORE.
Blonde. Green eyes. Full lips likeSOMETHING MORE.
Full lips.
NO. SOMETHING ELSE.
Let me the hell alone!
TELL ME. It was the voice of a king. The kind who will not have your head lopped off, but who will decapitate you with words and shame.
Breasts. Big breasts that I- That II KNOW YOUR PROBLEM. I CAN SEE, FROM
YOUR CONDITION, THAT YOU FIND YOURSELF
IN LOVE WITH HER.
No! That's disgusting!
YES. DENIAL DOES NOTHING TO CHANGE REALITY. REFUSAL TO ACCEPT DOES NOTHING
MORE THAN MAKE EVENTUAL ACCEPTANCE
MORE DIFFICULT. YOU LOVE THIS WOMAN. YET
YOU HAVE THIS COMPLEX WHICH ELUDES ME IN
ITS ENTIRETY. SIMEON, DO YOU REMEMBER THE
SIMULATED FLESH BREASTS?
I remember.
THOSE ARTIFICIAL BREASTS HAVE COME TO
SYMBOLIZE YOUR INHUMANITY TO YOU. YOU
WERE NOT SUCKLED LIKE A MANCHILD, AND
THE LOSS OF THAT HAS DONE STRANGE THINGS
TO YOU. YOU ARE AFRAID OF WOMEN, OFNo. I'm not afraid of women. She was just disgusting.
You would have had to see her to understand. All this spoken reasonably, calmly.
