Chapter 8: Preparation II - Human Mind

“Doctor Mifuell. Are you serious?” Belevere asked, her voice low and frosty. “There must be a mistake.”

The doctor shook under Belevere’s pressure, but he stood his ground. “All of the tests we ran pointed to that result. Miss Florent’s current neural aptitude is the equivalent of a grade D aptitude!”

Hearing the doctor repeat his words was like the final nail being pounded into a coffin.

Annabelle could scarcely believe it. Her whole life she had been blessed with one of the best piloting aptitudes achievable for humanity, and now she had one of the lowest in the span of less than a week.

Grade D aptitude was the minimum aptitude needed to make a mech move in battle. Such pilots were only good for piloting half-mechs—bastardized mechs made from merging a mech shape with a vehicle.

In war, half-mechs were the bread and butter cannon fodder. However, no one wanted to pilot one if they could avoid it. For most pilots, piloting a half-mech felt like having their limbs amputated.

The strangeness of half-mechs meant most pilots would never achieve anything above the bare minimum degree of mech synchronization. Let alone becoming an expert pilot or even a knight, there was no future in being a half-mech pilot at all, except for a rare select few eccentric enough to feel comfortable in a half mech.

Annabelled blinked back the tears in her eyes and looked away, but she couldn’t hide it from her friend. Belevere hurried to her side and sat down next to her, pulling her into a tight embrace. “It’s okay, Anne,” she whispered.

But even Belevere couldn’t figure out what else to say. What was there to say?

The silence stretched for a bit, and Annabelle began to miss her friend’s reassuring voice now that they were no longer there for her.

She was just about to say something, but Doctor Mifuell interrupted both of them with an obviously fake cough. He shrank back when Belevere glared at him. “I’m sorry for interrupting, but according to our analysis and observations of Miss Florent’s condition, she is to be discharged from our facility...”

“What? You can’t!” Belevere protested before Annabelle could get a word in. Annabelle tugged at her friend’s sleeve but Belevere ignored her insistent pulling and continued without rest. “You just said her aptitude was harmed because of this! Can’t you do anything about that?”

“Lady Odis, we can’t do anything about a person’s neural aptitude. If we could, no child born today would have anything less than grade A, and everyone will be able to pilot a mech!” Doctor Mifuell said. “Please, there’s nothing we can do!”

Belevere’s grip tightened on Annabelle’s arm. “Anne’s different from those people! Her original aptitude is A. It’s not raising it out of nowhere, just restoring it. Surely it’s possible?”

The doctor just continued to shake his head. “No, no, no. We can’t! Please, take it up to the director. I really can’t!” His fingers blurred as he keyed in a few commands on his comms and after a while, the bust of a severe old man with white hair and mustache appeared in the air between her and Belevere, and the doctor.

The doctor immediately hid behind the hologram.

At first, the newcomer looked confused, but as he turned around and spotted Annabelle and Belevere, understanding filled his eyes. First, he nodded to Belevere. “Lady Odis, congratulations on your knighthood,” he said. “I am the director of this hospital, Gande Rhidde. What seems to be the problem?”

He didn’t wait for them to answer. “I’m assuming that you have questions about Miss Florent’s aptitude?”

Annabelle tugged on her friend’s sleeves. “It’s fine, let’s just go! Didn’t you want to go somewhere today?” she whispered.

But Belevere ignored her and stood up, towering over the hologram that had been hovering just above eye level for her. The hologram rose shortly with her.

Annabelle had to look up to continue following the conversation.

“Yes. Why isn’t it possible to restore Anne’s aptitude? It’s not like you’re granting her anything she didn’t already have. If you can damage it and grow it, why can’t you fix it?” she asked. Now that she wasn’t dealing with the servient doctor, but with someone who saw her as an equal, she was much more patient.

Annabelle could relate. Talking with Belevere was always easier back in school, while dealing with her admirers were much more difficult. Although, she probably won’t have this problem anymore. She didn’t think the director’s answer would be any different from the doctor’s.

She smiled grimly to herself.

Before she realized it, she had already accepted her new reality, despite whatever Belevere was doing.

Director Rhidde fingered his mustache in thought before replying, but not directly answering Belevere’s question. “Unfortunately, that’s impossible. As you know, our organization spans the galaxy. We are incredibly wealthy and powerful. However, despite all that, we still have not unlocked the secrets of the human brain.

“Many of our technologies are built on concepts we do not fully understand, and mechs and the neural interface that they use are one such technology. Our study of the effects of synchronium are limited. What causes the breakthrough of a normal pilot into expert territory?” he asked, eyeing Belevere. “No one knows for sure. Perhaps it’s different for everyone.”

“What raises neural aptitude? Why do some accidents cause physical damage to the brain, yet leave the ability to pilot a mech intact, while others leave someone in perfectly good health, yet a cripple in piloting terms?” This time, Annabelle felt him staring straight at her, and she held his gaze evenly.

In front of her, she saw Belevere’s hands balled into fists, trembling as she tried to hold her anger back. Annabelle quickly grabbed Belevere and pulled her down to the bed before she did anything rash or disrespectful. To her surprise, her friend didn’t offer any resistance.

The director noted all of her actions, but didn’t comment. He soon lost interest and turned his attention back to Belevere.

“The answer is that we don’t know. Neural interfaces are very much a technology in its infancy despite the hundreds of years we have spent developing it. Every minute that the human mind hides its secrets for us, neural interfaces will remain a blackbox for us. Of course, there is more than just that to the human mind. Do I make myself clear, Lady Odis?”

The director leaned back, his hologram looking at them impassively.

From his blank expression, Annabelle realized that she had made a mistake in her judgement. He didn’t see Belevere as an equal. No, he considered himself their superiors. 

Belevere didn’t answer the provocation. When Annabelle looked at her friend, she was stunned to find her friend frozen, beads of sweat forming on her temples. 

She looked like she was about to collapse, and a moment later, she did. Panting from some unknown exertion, Belevere fell on top of her. She almost buckled from her friend’s weight. 

“Bel, are you okay? What did you do to her!” Annabelle demanded.

At that, the director suddenly leaned forward, studying her more closely. Annabelle’s scalp prickled and she had an urge to scratch at an itch that came from ... inside her skull? 

The director narrowed his eyes. “Interesting... very interesting. To answer your question, nothing too bad.” 

He shook his head, suddenly the spitting image of a caring grandparent. “Now that I’ve taken your friend down a few notches, I’ll be straight with you. There’s nothing in my power that I can do to help you. You just have to accept it and live your life as best as you can. Fortunately, it seems that you’ve already made good progress in it.”

The sudden change in demeanor caught Annabelle off guard. “Thank you?”

“There is nothing to thank us for,” the old man said, bowed his head. “As a hospital, we have failed in our mission to help you fully recover. I’ll personally take care of your discharge as my apology.”

His holographic bust looked off into the distance at something Annabelle couldn’t see. A moment later, a few holographic documents and graphics materialized and Annabelle once again had the old man’s undivided attention.

“I will prescribe you several medicines that will aid you in your brain’s recovery. Additionally, you should avoid piloting mechs for at least a week, or until you no longer feel dull, whichever comes later,” he said, sending a few documents to Annabelle.

Annabelle’s comms vibrated as she was prompted to approve the data transfer.

“Good, good. There are a few more documents to sign, which are standard for any hospital discharge,” Director Rhidde said. “Please sign.”

A few more documents appeared in front of Annabelle and she signed them after skimming the contents. As far as she could tell, there weren’t any suspicious terms hidden in the forms she was signing. As she signed each marked field, the holograms disappeared in order, until all of them were gone, leaving just the eccentric director’s face.

“Before you go, Miss Florent, my main office is in Gelbatrar. You can come visit whenever you want. I’m confident that you will... soon. You’ll realize that piloting isn’t the limits of humanity.”

With that, Director Rhidde cut the connection, leaving just Doctor Mifuell with them in the hospital room. The small man bobbed his head and hurried out as if running from something dangerous or scary, and now it was just Annabelle and Belevere alone. 

 

Annabelle helped her friend up. Belevere was still breathing hard, her complexion pallid. 

“Bel, are you okay? What happened that made you like this?” she asked.

Belevere looked up at her with weary eyes and shook her head. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “One moment I was talking with the director, and the next moment I felt some kind of pressure pressing down on me, like I couldn't breathe or something.

“Did you...? No, never mind,” Belevere said. She rubbed her eyes. “That’s weird.”

“Huh? Wait, what do you mean never mind? What’s weird?” Annabelle asked. “Did I what?”

“I don’t know. I just feel kind of lightheaded all of a sudden. I’ll be fine if I rest a bit.” Belevere flopped down on the bed, taking a deep breath and smiled. “It smells like you, Anne.”

Annabelle blinked, unsure what just happened. Something was wrong, but she couldn’t put a finger on what. She was just talking to Belevere about... about what, exactly? Her headache?

She stared at Belevere, wracking her brain trying to remember.

Belevere stared back. “What’s wrong, Anne? You’re staring at me so much. Do I have something on my face or is it something else?” she asked. 

She dropped her voice to a husky tone. “Normally, you’d hit me and tell me to not say such things. Does that mean you’re okay with it?” 

She sat up and pulled Annabelle close to her in one move.

“Ah...”

Belevere’s left arm crept down until it reached the small of Annabelle’s back, while the other took hold of her arm. Then she leaned forward, forcing Annabelle to lean back. With a yelp, Annabelle grabbed onto her friend’s shoulder to maintain her balance. Annabelle could only watch as Belevere’s red lips that were slightly raised at the corners came closer and closer.

They were plump and looked so soft. They moved in such alluring ways as Belevere spoke.

“So it’s okay?”

Annabelle hurriedly pushed her friend away and stood up. “O-of course not...not yet! A-anyways, let me change my clothes so we can leave. You wanted to do something today, right?”

There was a small closet in the corner of the patient room. That was where the clothes that she wore the day of the tournament were kept, cleaned and sealed in a plastic bag since after day one. The closet’s sturdy electronic lock had been released when she signed the last of the discharge papers earlier.

She walked briskly over, trying to ignore the heat she felt in her body. The loose fabric of the gown rubbed on her skin. Since she was unconscious for three whole days and she didn’t have a change of clothes with her, all she had on the whole time after the surgery was the gown with nothing underneath.

Just sleeping naked shouldn’t have made her feel so warm, though. No, it was all Belevere’s fault for saying and doing weird things. She was always like that when they were alone!

Annabelle tore open the plastic packaging containing her clothes. Her AMI uniform were neatly folded inside, creases ironed to crisp edges, with her bra and underwear sitting prominently on top. 

“You had access to my room. Why didn’t you bring me some underwear?” Annabelle grumbled as she took off her gown. The hospital’s cool sterile air swept over her exposed skin. Combined with the events earlier and the fact the perpetrator was still standing behind her, she had to consciously stop herself from covering herself. 

“Geez, why are you looking?”

As she stretched behind her to clasp her bra, she felt soft hands just as warm as she was envelope hers to help.

 “Well, the real reason was that I just forgot to bring it. What do you think I’d normally say, though?” Belevere asked. 

Annabelle blushed and said nothing. 

Soon, she was completely dressed. She wore the same thing she had three days ago, only three days ago, she had been a girl lauded as a genius, favored to be knighted. Now, she was nothing but a cripple.