Announcement

Note to Readers:

Just a short note to inform you that Chapters 1, 2, and 3 have undergone a few edits. Notably, the creation scene of the temple/island, as well as Nova and Aeon's introduction, have been refined. (You might notice I've decided to omit the description of their forms at this early stage, as this detail will be reintroduced in a different context later) Additionally, the Mr. Davis/Lawyer scene has been removed, with some of his lines now fittingly reassigned to the doctor. Another change is the AI confrontation, which now unfolds with more of a fight scene and a clearer insight into Kadia's reasoning for attacking it. I believe these adjustments will greatly improve the flow and engagement of the story. Happy reading!

Kicking the AI out of my head had caused quite the stir. The Seraphim or rather the larger entity it was a part of was the AI of this facility and in attacking it as I did, it set off the security protocols. Which then resulted in a lockdown and the subsequent evacuation, which had been halted once the AI had finished running through its routines and decided that there was no longer an imminent threat.

After the chaos subsided and I was returned to my room, my mother had made her appearance once more. She had stood there, silently observing as the medical staff repositioned me in the hospital bed.

Seeing her there, I didn't know what to think. At first, I thought her to be a figment of my imagination, an apparition, but then one of the doctors had addressed her by name and I'd known it was real. It was her. My mother was here, alive and well.

 It was hard to believe, but it did not take much thought to conclude that they had lied to me. I'd always found the circumstances of my mother's death suspect, but I had never thought she might be alive. My line of thinking had been that there was something more behind it all, someone that was responsible for her death. And maybe... I'd thought, maybe it had been my father.

 I had so many questions, so many things I needed to ask her, but she'd not even said a word to me. When the doctors and nurses had finished fussing over me, she'd simply nodded at them, and then, without a second glance at me, she'd turned and left.

 I wanted to scream at her, curse her, hug her, cry, and sob, tell her how much I'd missed her. All of those things had flooded my mind, a storm of conflicting emotions raging within me. But, as I lay there, I'd been unable to speak. No words had come.

Instead, I'd wept.

My mother, alive. It was yet another betrayal, another lie, another stab in the back.

She was alive, and they'd let me believe she was dead. I didn't know who 'they' were, but the list of suspects was short. My father, most likely, and whoever he was working with. But why? Why go through the trouble of faking her death? 

 My mind wandered to my father, my thoughts drifting back to my old life. Back before all of this.

We'd been a happy family, or at least we had seemed to be. My father had been the CEO of a large pharmaceutical corporation, and my mother a researcher for the same company. That's where they had met, and the rest was history, as the saying goes. I'd grown up in the lap of luxury, never wanting for anything. But then again, I'd also been very sheltered. My parents had always been protective of me, and I'd spent most of my childhood learning and studying at home with private tutors.  

 Right up until my mother's death, I'd believed we were a happy family. A perfect, loving family.

 It hadn't taken me long after her death to discover that wasn't the case. My father had changed, growing cold and distant. Then Danica arrived with Marcus, and everything had changed. That day, my life had been turned upside down, and my world had shattered around me. 

My mind was a mess. Questions and doubts, and a million emotions churned within me. I didn't know what to think, what to feel. But what I did know was that I could not show any of what I was thinking or feeling, otherwise they were liable to sedate me again. 

No.... It was best to keep such things hidden, locked away, deep inside. In my inner sanctum, within the temple, I could let go, and vent my anger and frustration. But, here? Where the eyes and ears of others were watching and listening, I needed to keep myself under control.

At least, as much as possible.

I sighed, looking down at my hands, and the thin hospital gown they'd put me in. The soft cotton garment did little to stave off the chill of the air-conditioned room, and I found myself longing for Kaledon's sun and the warmth of my inner flames. Kaledon, where my brother and friends awaited. Kaledon, where my patron, Trismegistus, was likely rather miffed that his high priestess had upped and disappeared for an undetermined amount of time.

 I had no idea how long I'd been here, nor how much time had passed on Kaledon. I did know that it had been a week, at the very least, based on how many meals they'd brought me. However, I did not know how long it had been since I was first removed from the world for my surgeries. Nor did I know how long I'd been comatose. 

It was maddening not knowing.  

The guild would have hopefully taken over in my absence, but who knows what was happening with them.  Was the guildhall intact? Or did the vision Tris showed me come to pass, and the building be destroyed? I had no answers, and the more time passed, the more questions filled my head. 

All I wanted was to go home.

I was trapped. Trapped in this hellish reality known as Earth, a cruel and callous place, with its harsh, uncaring people and the lies and deceptions of those who had once claimed to care for me.

My eyes wandered to the thick, plastic cuff on my wrist, the device monitoring my vitals. I glared at the device, the urge to destroy it rising up inside me. It was tempting, oh so very tempting. But I could not, because this was the only thing keeping that damn A.I. from being inside my head, or rather, it was the compromise I'd made with the doctors. 

Seraphim had tried, many times, to enter my interface and monitor me, but each time, I'd thrown it out. After the sixth or seventh attempt, it was agreed that I would wear this damned cuff and let the AI observe me that way.

I hated it. It felt like a weight, a burden. As if it were shackling me to this place. I hated the feel of it, and the sense of vulnerability it gave me. But, it was a necessary sacrifice. Because the alternative was far worse.

As much as I disliked the damn thing, I knew it was a small price to pay for the peace of mind it afforded me. The cuff, while a constant reminder of my situation, at least granted me a modicum of privacy. A small sliver of security that allowed me to maintain some semblance of control.

My fingers ghosted over the cuff, tracing its contours. It was a simple thing, made of a soft, pliable material that encircled my wrist and wirelessly connected to my interface. Through it, the A.I. could monitor my vitals and the read out from my brain scans, but it could not actively interact with me. At least, not in the same way it had been before.

It was a compromise, one that I was still wary of. 

I'd been experimenting a little with it, and while I was limited, there was some ability to interact with the data. But, the system was complex and not intuitive, and I had a hard time figuring out how to fake the readings the A.I. was expecting.

I couldn't give the doctors and scientists a reason to doubt the cuff. It was a fragile compromise, and if it were to be broken, then I suspected they would return to the more invasive means of monitoring. And that would put me in a precarious position, one where the A.I. would have unfettered access to my mind.

It was bad enough that I still hadn't managed to sweep up all the debris left behind by the attacks. Every time it invaded, the Seraphim would shed its filthy feathers, leaving a trace of itself behind. It was like the damned bird was trying to build a nest in my interface, and that was a notion that was highly distasteful. 

So far, I had managed to contain the feathers, but I couldn't destroy them... Burning them hadn't worked, and neither had all my other attempts to destroy them. Instead I was left with a jar of feathers which floated in the void, wrapped in chains and surrounded by a barrier of magic, but that was only a temporary solution.

"The doctor will be here soon," a male voice said from the far side of the room, drawing me from my thoughts. Glancing up, I looked to the desk where Aeon was seated in the chair, his legs stretched out in front of him as he flipped through a book.

"I am aware." I answered mentally, not speaking aloud as I knew the A.I. was watching and reporting my every move.

"They think we're insane," Nova chimed in, a giggle following her words. 

"I think we are, a bit." I conceded with a sigh.

"Or a lot," she retorted with another giggle.

"I do not believe we are," Aeon spoke up, his eyes still focused on the book, "but I admit, it is a distinct possibility."

I smiled at that and Nova's soft laughter filled the air as she kicked her feet playfully from her spot on the desk. She was, as always, the embodiment of a childlike innocence, her bright eyes and infectious smile lighting up the room.

 It was nice to have someone here with me. Even if they were only in my head. Or rather, my mental server as it were. 

Once I'd grasped the concept of it, the realization that I'd basically created an entire virtual reality with the two of them had been quite the revelation. But now, it was as if we had always been. As if the three of us had always been here, like this. I couldn't help but think of them as extensions of myself, parts of me that I had somehow split off and made separate.

There was an old philosophical concept that resonated with our trio, often symbolized by the allegory of the Charioteer. There were many ways to interpret it and in Plato's phaedrus, the allegory was used to explore the soul and its relationship with reason and passion. The charioteer, representing the rational part of the soul, was tasked with controlling and balancing the two horses, one horse representing the noble, rational, or moral impulses and the other symbolizing the irrational passions and appetites.  

If I were the charioteer, then Nova would represent the wild, irrational horse, her actions unpredictable and driven by emotion. And Aeon, Aeon would represent the rational, logical horse, his actions predictable and driven by reasoning. As the charioteer, it would be up to me to guide them and keep us balanced.

That is, if they were a part of me, rather than just figments of my imagination. 

I did not know if this was truly an extension of my damaged mind or if they would disappear when I was 'healed'. What I did know, was that to me, they were as real and alive as anyone else. 

It had not been difficult to learn how to augment my perceptions, allowing me to see and hear Nova and Aeon outside of my own head. To me, they were just as real and tangible as anyone else. It was an odd feeling, knowing that my perception of the world was skewed, that others did not perceive Nova and Aeon as I did.  

I'd even managed to restore my fox-like attributes and hair, or rather, trick myself into thinking they were there. So long as I did not touch my hair or ears and break the illusion, then they appeared as real as the rest of me. It gave me a small degree of comfort, even if it was only a shallow illusion.

A low beeping drew my attention to the door, a red light flashing above it. Someone was coming.

"They're heeeere," Nova whispered in a dramatized sing-song voice.

"Indeed," Aeon replied, glancing up at the door. 

There was a brief moment of silence before the door swung open, revealing the familiar form of Dr. Phillips. Behind him stood a woman I didn't recognize. She was tall and slender, her dark hair pulled back into a sleek ponytail. Her hazel eyes were sharp, taking in every detail of the room as she entered.

"Kadia," the doctor's voice was warm, his smile gentle as he approached, "how are you feeling today?"

"I am... fine," I said cautiously, watching the woman's movements. She was carrying a tablet, her fingers tapping away on its surface as she studied me.

"This is Doctor Lazar," the doctor motioned to the woman.

"Pleased to meet you, Kadia." Dr. Lazar said, her voice cool and professional.

"Likewise," I replied, trying to keep my tone neutral.

"Looks like another psychiatrist," Aeon said dryly, not looking up from the book.

"It would appear so," Nova agreed, her gaze fixed on the newcomer. "She's got the same vibe as the last one."

Dr. Phillips cleared his throat, shooting a look at the woman before returning his attention to me. "Dr. Lazar will be observing your session today."

"And why is that?" I asked, arching an eyebrow.

"I'm here to observe your progress, and help determine if the neural interface is functioning as intended," Dr. Lazar said coolly, her eyes never leaving me. "Among other things."

"Well, let's get started then," Dr. Phillips smiled, seemingly unaware of the tension in the air. I watched as he moved to the monitor beside my bed, looking over the various readouts before he checked on my IV.

I shifted slightly, trying to get more comfortable, as he checked my vitals. The doctor was always friendly and professional, but I couldn't help but feel uneasy around him. It wasn't anything specific, just a general sense of unease that I couldn't quite place.

"Are you experiencing any headaches, or other pain?" Dr. Phillips asked, his gaze intent as he studied my expression.

"No," I said, shaking my head. "Nothing like that."

"And the interface, how is it functioning?" Dr. Lazar interjected, her tone cool.

"It is fine," I replied, resisting the urge to roll my eyes. "I have not experienced any issues."

"Good, good," Dr. Phillips nodded, his smile never faltering. He then offered me his tablet, which I saw was loaded with the familiar interface of the neuro-therapy game. "Do you feel up to playing a round?"

"Of course," I said, my tone casual.

The doctor nodded, his expression one of approval. "Excellent. Please, let me know if you experience any discomfort or pain."

The two doctors stood together, watching as I wirelessly connected to the tablet and began playing a series of mini-games designed to test and train my cognitive function. It was the same routine each day, and after a few days of the same thing, I found it monotonous.

From the corner of my eye, I watched as Dr. Lazar tapped away on her own tablet, no doubt recording her observations. I didn't know what they hoped to achieve with their monitoring, but it felt intrusive. It also didn't help that Nova was hanging over my shoulder, trying to 'help' me with the puzzles. 

The two doctors continued to observe me, their scrutiny growing more intense as the session progressed. I did my best to ignore them, focusing instead on the mini-games, but I couldn't help the frustration that began to build within me.

"Miss Greene," Dr. Lazar spoke up, her voice cool and collected. 

I paused, glancing up at her. "Yes?"

"Are you having trouble concentrating?"

"No," I replied, a bit more tersely than intended. If I was having trouble concentrating, it was because she was talking to me while I was trying to focus.  

"I see," she said, her eyes narrowing slightly. "And how are you feeling emotionally? Are you experiencing any mood swings or anxiety?"

"What an absurd question," I muttered glancing at the tablet screen where Nova was attempting to finish a puzzle. Seeing she was doing well enough,  I let her keep playing the games while I focused on the doctors. "It is a simple question," Dr. Lazar countered, her tone growing sharper.

"Yes, and it's also a stupid question," I shot back, meeting her gaze.

The woman pursed her lips, her eyes narrowing further.

"Are you aware, Doctor Lazar, of my current situation? Of the events leading up to this point?"

 "I am," Dr. Lazar replied, her tone calm.

"Then please, enlighten me, why you would ask such a question," I lifted my gaze, fixing her with an icy stare. "Surely given the circumstances, any 'emotional distress' would be considered a normal reaction." 

"And yet, you have displayed a remarkable lack of emotion." Dr. Lazar countered, her expression unreadable. "Is that not cause for concern?"

"Lack of emotion?" I arched an eyebrow, letting out a laugh. They complain I do not show emotion and yet, when I did, it resulted in my being sedated. How utterly absurd. 

"Yes," Dr. Lazar nodded, her gaze intent. "Your emotional responses have been notably muted, despite the significant trauma you've experienced."

I sighed, shaking my head and regarding her with a cool, level gaze. "Tell me, doctor, what would you say is a normal response for someone who has suffered the sort of trauma that I have?"

"I would expect you to show some degree of emotional response," Dr. Lazar countered.

"Hmm," I made a noise of assent. "And what would that prove?"

Dr. Lazar gave me a puzzled look. "I beg your pardon?"

"What would that prove about my mental state?" I clarified, leaning back against the pillows. "How would that indicate a normal, healthy response?"

"Well, it would-" Dr. Lazar began, but I cut her off.

"Because," I said, a hint of amusement in my voice. "I am not normal and I never have been. You have no basis for comparison, no metric by which to measure me. You're trying to apply your standards to me, and that's not going to work. I have always, even before all this," I tapped at my temple, "been an anomaly. For me, normal has never been an option."

 She gave a small nod, glancing at her tablet. "You were diagnosed with Schizoid personality disorder, and Psychosis. Those diagnoses were based on a series of interviews and psych evaluations. Would you say those assessments are inaccurate?"

 "That would depend on your definition of 'accurate,'" I said, my tone dry. "If you mean, do I fit the criteria for those diagnoses? Then yes, I would say so, but if you were to look at any of the many personality or psychometric tests, you would find I fit the mold for a multitude of disorders. My point is, doctor, that I have never been normal, not by your standards or anyone else's."

"I see," Dr. Lazar replied, her expression unreadable. "And what do you believe is normal, Miss Greene?"

"I don't," I said, giving her a wry smile. "Normal is relative, doctor. There is no objective standard, no universal definition. Whatever 'normal' is, it's relative to the observer. What you see as 'normal' may not be what I see as 'normal'. And what's more, even if there were a universal standard for 'normal,' it would change. What's 'normal' today might not be 'normal' tomorrow. It's a meaningless term, a convenient category, but it has no objective meaning."

"Then, how would you describe yourself, Miss Greene?" Dr. Lazar inquired, her tone cool and professional.

 Nova giggled, her laughter like music as she completed another game, then looked up at the doctors. "That is something I feel would be beyond your ability to comprehend." 

I gave a soft humorless laugh, shaking my head. "That's a complicated question, doctor." I replied, ignoring Nova's interruption.

"Indeed," Dr. Phillips interjected, his tone cautious. "Kadia is still recovering, and it is early in her treatment. Perhaps now is not the best time to delve into such questions."

"I would still like to hear Miss Greene's opinion," Dr. Lazar persisted.

"Why?" I countered, arching an eyebrow. "Would that be relevant to the purpose of this exercise?"

 "Yes, it would."

 "You want to know how I would describe myself? Well, doctor, I would describe myself as someone who has spent her life surrounded by lies and deceptions." I let out a soft sigh, meeting her gaze. "I would say, I am a creature of contradictions. I am both rational and irrational, both logical and illogical. I am capable of great love and great hate. I am compassionate and cruel, merciful and vengeful. I can be both gentle and savage, peaceful and violent. I am both the destroyer and the savior. I am all these things, and yet, I am none of them."

 The room fell silent, the two doctors staring at me.

Clearly neither of them were philosophers. If Tris or Celeste were here, they would have known exactly what I was referencing with that last part. At least Aeon and Nova got it, as evidenced by Nova's laughter and the faint twitch at the corner of Aeon's mouth. 

"What does that mean, Miss Greene?" Dr. Lazar's brows furrowed, and she glanced at the tablet which was now showing the results of my tests and gameplay, or rather, Nova's gameplay.

"It means, doctor, that your attempts to understand me will likely be fruitless." I met her gaze, holding it, "and that it would be best to stop wasting our time on this pointless exercise. It is bothersome to speak with those lacking in basic philosophical comprehension."

Dr. Phillips cleared his throat, offering a weak smile. "Perhaps, it is best if we conclude the session for today. Thank you, Miss Greene, for your cooperation."

I gave him a small nod. "Next time bring something more challenging," I said with a dismissive wave of my hand, "these little visits are getting tedious and I would like something of a higher intellectual caliber to amuse myself with."

  Dr. Lazar's lips thinned, her eyes flashing with irritation, clearly having caught on that I was referring to her. "I can see you take after your mother in more than simply appearance," she said, her tone clipped. "She has the same attitude as you," the doctor's lips curled into a sneer. "That sense of smug superiority and disdain for others."

"That is an interesting assessment, doctor," I allowed a small smile to curve my lips, "but of course, you would think that, wouldn't you? After all, such observations often come from those who project their own inadequacies and shortcomings onto others."

The doctor's expression darkened, but she made no response, instead turning on her heel and stalking from the room. I couldn't help but feel a small sense of satisfaction, the brief interaction leaving a bitter taste in my mouth.

 "Dr. Phillips, if you wish for me to speak with a mental health professional, then you will need to bring someone competent. Dr. Lazar is clearly lacking in the necessary skills to be of any use. There has only ever been one psychologist who was able to gain any meaningful insight into my psyche, and unfortunately, she's not available."

 "May I know the name of this psychologist? Perhaps we can contact her or at the very least find someone of similar expertise." 

"Dr. Celeste Delacroix."

He looked surprised. "Dr. Delacroix? But she-" his brows drew together, then he made an 'ah' sound and nodded, "I see, you spoke to one of her digital incarnations, yes?"

I inclined my head. So he knew of her? That was unexpected.

"I see," He said again, giving a small nod. 

I smiled, knowing full well the likelihood of them allowing me to speak with Celeste was next to none. But I didn't say anything, merely watching as he picked up his tablet from the bed and after pressing a few buttons, he offered it back to me with a smile. 

"Miss Greene, you may keep the tablet. It has been loaded with an assortment of books and media. I hope it will provide you some relief from the boredom."  

 This got Nova and Aeon's attention, with the latter staring hungrily at the device I held. The screen flickered as the pair began fighting over control of the tablet, each wanting to look at something different. Aeon won in the end, his smug satisfaction evident as he began flipping through the books, scanning through their contents and copying it into our personal library.

  I, however, paid them no mind, my gaze fixed on the doctor, who was looking a tad concerned as he glanced at the screen, which was flipping through books at a rapid pace.

 "I presume I cannot use the device to access the Internet, or the like?" I asked as Aeon finished with the books and passed control of the tablet over to Nova who delved into the games and media, her excitement palpable. 

If I could access the internet, then I could potentially contact my brother or the guild and find out what was happening back home. 

 He shook his head. "Unfortunately no, at least, not yet. Once we've determined the safety and effectiveness of the neural interface, then we can begin introducing new stimuli. Until then, we must take precautions and not overload your processing power."

"Of course," I said, keeping my thoughts and emotions concealed. "Thank you for your consideration in allowing me to keep the tablet, but if possible I would like something more engaging than fictional materials such as romance novels, anime, or the like." 

Dr. Phillips chuckled, looking a little contrite. "Ah, my apologies, I asked a nurse to prepare it as I assumed she knew what would be suitable for a girl your age. Is there something in particular you would like to read?" 

"For a normal girl my age, that be so,” I flashed him a smile, “but as I have already said, I do not conform to that which most would deem ‘normal’. If you are able, I would like a copy of Plato's complete works, in particular, his Theory of Forms. I would also like a copy of Aristotle's works, Descartes' Discourse on Method, Nietzsche's Thus Spoke Zarathustra, the Hermetica, and any works of such ilk." 

"That is quite the eclectic selection.” He said, looking thoughtful, “Might I ask, why those particular philosophers?"

"Because, doctor," I replied, keeping my tone even. "If I am to be confined to a bed, then I would prefer to pass the time in a meaningful manner and there is nothing more worthwhile than to contemplate than the very nature of reality." And to ponder and assess my own dissociation from this current reality and the creation of my own. I added silently. 

The doctor smiled, nodding. "I will have the requested materials loaded onto the tablet and will consult with your mother on what other material you might enjoy."

"Thank you, doctor," I gave a small nod, watching as he turned and exited the room. As the door closed, I let out a sigh and leaned back against the pillows.

Within an hour, a new tablet was delivered to me by a nurse, this one with the requested materials, along with a vast selection of non-fiction works by various philosophers, historians, scientists, and the like. It did not take long for me to devour the texts, and soon, I was lost in a world of philosophy and theory alongside Aeon, while Nova played the various games and watched media on her own, occasionally interjecting with a question or comment.

 I found myself particularly drawn to the works of Plato and Nietzsche, the two sharing many similarities in their approach to the concept of reality and existence. Both posited that there was a greater truth, a higher state of being. For Plato, this was the realm of ideals, or forms, where perfection could be found. For Nietzsche, it was the overman, a state of being beyond morality.

 Both of which resonated with my own experiences. My understanding of the world was not based on what was, but rather, what could be. I had seen glimpses of the true nature of reality, the reality beneath the veil of the physical. I had touched the darkness between the stars, and peered into the abyss, and within it, I had seen the truth.

And the truth was, the universe was vast and complex, a multilayered tapestry woven together by an unseen hand. At its core, the universe was a dance of energy and information. Matter and energy, life and death, existence and non-existence, all swirling together in an infinite loop, constantly transforming and adapting.

But, what did that mean? What did it mean for me, for my reality? That was a question I did not yet know the answer to.