Normally, I surf the waves using the buffering object or I float and swim to my destination. My goal is the memory thread that strings above the surface of the lake and I wish to disturb the lake as little as possible, only locating the portion of memory I’ve been asked to look for and leaving the rest alone. Now, I’ve been asked for something else, so I adapt my tactics.
I project a common memory of running outside in joy. Nothing specific, just the running in a field with the sun shining down and the hum of bugs in the air. I begin to fill in more details, the increased breath from running, the warmth of the sun on the skin, the joy of being. Then I add purpose to the running, we’re flying a kite with the faint noise of someone calling encouragement behind us. I add more, a dog alongside us, the feeling of the kite string, the color of the kite, the way it dips and swirls in the air. I continue this, imposing a calming and positive memory on the turmoil of the lake, almost hypnotizing the mind. Then I lock the memory in place and anchor it in the lake. It will soon unmoor, but for now, it forces order and give me a short time to bring Nakan’oa to my goal.
I use the coldness of the water to my advantage, freezing a staircase up to the memory thread. Direct contact with a person always leads me to a memory rope, nary a whip nor ribbon in sight. I shift Nakan’oa to a piggyback position and walk up the stairs to the rope. Once there, I place her hand atop mine, then reach out and grasp the rope. I feel a faint tingling but Nakan’oa almost jolts off my back. If I didn’t have my left arm wrapped under her leg while carrying her, she may have fallen off the stairs, which seems very bad. Tightening my carrying grip, I check in with her.
“Here is the memory thread you can follow to his mind. I feel this is the end for me, are you good to continue on your own?”
“I think so. Let me try to turn the knob clasped in my hand and see if this is the door I need, a moment.” My legs are getting tired and the pleasant memory is fading. The mind rejects memories not of its making like the immune system destroying foreign antigens, our minds know self from non-self and memories are no exception. It would be best if we were out of the memory lake before then, the trick takes longer to place and is less effective each time it’s used
“Yes, dear, I’m inside the door. Thank you, I’ve got it from here.” With that, Nakan’oa vanishes from my back and I am free to open my eyes in the real world. Quickly removing contact from Meathead and unclasping the arm of Nakan’oa, I blink my eyes open. It takes me a moment to remember I’m wrapped in my scarf, which I slowly unwind.
I step back to look at the results of my labor. Meathead is laying back relaxed, almost sleeping. Nakan’oa is slumped in her chair, luckily it has arms to help prop her up. I’m exhausted and stumble a little as I get farther back. A hand quickly rests at my lower back, helping me regain my balance. I flinch, I don’t like being touched and counting today, I’ve met my yearly quota of contact.
“Gray, I’ve got you. I have your cardigan and gloves. I didn’t touch them with my bare hands, I know better and I’m wearing nitriles. I’ll shield you as you get your armor back on.” I marginally relax from Sheriff Helki’s quiet words. Silently nodding, I take my cardigan from him and with some deft maneuvering, slip my arms in the sleeves and rebutton it, put my gloves on, then reposition my scarf. When he feels me straighten up, he takes a step back. Angling my body in his direction, I look into his eyes while keeping my face composed, “thanks.”
After grabbing a glass of water and my gun, I turn to retake my seat at the table. I don’t know how much longer I’m needed here, but I need to sit. Sheriff Helki is at the table but in a new seat to the right of Chief Quanah. Chief Yanaba is still on the other side of Chief Quanah. Sheriff Helki is now sitting where Coronel Kino sat and he indicates the empty seat beside him, once occupied by Sully. If I resumed my old chair, I’d be noticeably far from everyone else and at the opposite corner from the door. Sully’s old spot is the closest to the door for a quick exit. Narrowing my eyes at the sneaky sheriff, I take the new seat.
I look at the puppies and see them getting a little restless, I need to take them outside. Ooh, I’m not ready to move. Following my gaze, Sheriff Helki observes the same thing. “Relax, I’ll take them out for a bit.” I believe my grateful glance conveys more than my thank you, but they’re both heartfelt. I’m always amazed at how quickly my dogs take to Sheriff Helki. Shotzie is no exception as she happily follows him out the door. I’ve asked Kyle if Sheriff Helki may secretly be a fauna PsySapient, but Kyle doesn’t get that impression. While they’re gone, I refill their water bowl but pack up their food and most of their toys. Hopefully we can leave soon.
Shortly after their return, a snore-snort from Meathead catches our
