The Quantum Connection

It was removed when you asked the first time. Is there a problem? 

You mean, it's gone now? 

Yes. 

I thrust the naked girl away from me and stood up in front of her, all six-one, two hundred and forty pounds of my hairy self. I reached for my clothes. Give me the girl's clothes, cleaned. They appeared in the same fashion that mine had. Her clothes, if you want to call them that, were merely an oversized cotton tank top. My guess was that the Grays had grabbed her out of bed. I pulled my underwear up and nodded to the girl and at her clothes. She grabbed the top and frantically pulled it over her and then she squatted and began hugging herself and crying.

I realized then that she must have one of those damned tracking device things in her as well.

Is there an implant in the girl? 

Yes. 

Is it affecting her emotions? 

All implants do. Yes. 

REMOVE IT NOW! 

Okay. 

I was beginning to notice that the mood swinging had stopped. My rage and depression were slowly subsiding; if the implant is gone why do I still feel . . . bad?

It will take a few moments for your body to compensate for the extreme chemical differentials. You will soon return to normal. 

I slipped my shirt on. How long has that implant been in my brain?

Three years seven months two weeks four days thirteen hours and twenty-seven seconds from insertion to removal. 

I thought about that for a second. That was just after The Rain! I had never been able to recover from the emotional losses I suffered from The Rain because of that damned alien implant!

The girl jabbered at me again. I held up my hands and then put my finger to my lip as if to shoosh her. Then I pointed to myself and said, 'I'm Steven. Steven.'

'Steevyen?' she repeated.

'Yeah, Steven.' I smiled at her and don't think her nakedness now that it had been slightly clothed didn't still flash in my mind. Is the urge to procreation a sign of regaining sanity? I thought to myself that I had not really had a thought like that in years. . . . Three years seven months two weeks four days thirteen hours and twenty-seven seconds . . .

'Tatiana,' she smiled and pointed to herself.

'Tatiana,' I repeated and nodded. Then I thought to myself, Damn, I wish I could speak Russian.

Okay. 

And then all at once I understood every word the girl jabbered, so I spoke to her and explained as much as I understood. This took a few seconds and then I thought, If you can make me speak Russian could you make her speak English?

Yes. 

Do it. 

Okay. 

'Listen to me Tatiana. Can you understand what I am saying to you?' I said slowly to her.

'Of course I can, what is wrong with . . . Holy shit, I am speaking perfect English.'

'Ha ha, I would say so, expletives and all. This is amazing, isn't it?' I asked her and chuckled a bit more. I chuckled . . . I chuckled!

'But how?' Tatiana asked.

'I don't know. Hold on a second.' I told her and then thought to the SuperAgent, How did you make us speak the different languages so quickly?

I redesigned your neural pathways and imprinted the memories of the language. 

Yes, but how did you do that? I asked.

Please refine your question. 

How did you physically alter our brains so quickly? I was getting a little annoyed.

The nanomachines were instructed to reconstruct portions of your brains in order to display the proper memories of the languages. 

What nanomachines? I looked around the room as if I might see them.

The swarm of nanomachines in this room. 

I understood it all now. This room must have been the experimentation or operating room and these Gray aliens used nanomachines in here to conduct these operations. I explained it to Tatiana.