Authors: Pamela Foland
Tina smiled benignly, “Yeah, and your reaction is exactly why sometimes I wished she wasn’t my mother. Everybody had expectations for me that I couldn’t live up to. I wasn’t born a telepath. Heck, I have a pet rock that’s more telepathic than I was! What’s worse, that was before some stuff happened which
made talking fashionable again. Back then nobody talked. It was all telepathic.”
“Yeah poor you! Then you got your telepathy and became a doctor and got everything you ever wanted!” Annette hissed.
Tina nodded, “Except that I became a doctor before I became a telepath, and back then, that was unheard of. Except for Gene, but he was here from the beginning.”
Annette’s eyes widened, that was a part of the story she’d somehow missed. Then again, she hadn’t much cared about learning about Tina after she decided not to be a factor. “So, you didn’t have any powers or anything, and you still got to follow your dream?”
“Yeah! With the help of a . . .” Tina began but was halted as Annette’s mother rushed into the room.
She ran to the bed and wrapped her arms around Annette, dislodging the soothing device. Vertigo and vomit threatened as her stepmother released Annette and carefully examined the device. “A stabilizer! That’s it? What about using a healing device, are you being negligent or just plain lazy . . .” Annette’s mother growled, until she turned and recognized just who was treating her daughter.
“Lecee, I checked her charts before rushing to treatment. I think in her case it’s the best idea. She hasn’t had a recent full scan, and it might do more damage than good to use an improperly chosen or set device,” Tina answered calmly
Despite, the threat of passing out, Annette felt strangely comforted her foster mother’s belligerent concern, “Just use a type one juvenile . . .”
“Type one? You’re sure she’s fully human? That’s odd because I’m not, and according to his intake notes neither is Gene. She shows signs of being at least forty percent . . .” Annette struggled to cling to Tina’s words as she lost the battle and passed out.
- - - - - - - - - -
Angela braced herself just outside the conference room. She wished for the days of the informal morning briefings in the cafeteria over doughnuts and coffee. Back then a limited meeting meant Gene, Ralph, Corrine, Johnny, and Daniel (if she could pry him out of bed.) Now, it meant the heads of departments she hadn’t even dreamed up back then, their assistants, prime factors and a secretary to transcribe the proceedings for anybody who missed it. Worst of all, somehow, the coffee and doughnuts had been replaced with hardtack and stale ice water.
Gene, now head of medical services, only showed up for the formal meetings. Ralph sent Dennis, the assistant tech he’d named department head over himself, just to avoid the meetings. Corrine had disappeared from Sanctuary all together after the shields came up. They wouldn’t let her symbiont through. Johnny died a martyr to the cause, and Daniel, her husband, rarely came in more than spirit. He was content to absorb only what information trickled to him through their pairbond.
Angela dreaded going, only her sense of duty and the knowledge that they would search her out, forced her through the door. Faking a businesslike smile, she strode in, today defiantly bringing her own doughnut and coffee. No one noticed. She was the Chief. She could do anything she liked, except quit.
Angela sighed softly and took her seat at the head of the table. Stalling she ate part of her doughnut, maybe today they’d start without her. No, everyone sat at quiet attention waiting for her to signify she was ready. Inside she screamed she quit, start without her! Outside she sipped at her coffee and nodded at each person, nominally noting attendance. You’d think in a room full of telepaths, someone would figure out how little she wanted to be there.
Gene had shown up this morning, in front of him was balanced a stack of pop-pads, and he sat in Tina’s usual chair. Angela smiled at him and contemplated offering him a doughnut. No, everyone would take that the wrong way. Other than Gene, the table was filled with the usual suspects, except one empty chair. That tweaked Angela’s brain, usually chairs at the table didn’t stay empty. A quick check noted that Sinclair Chavez and his assistant Niri were still missing. Late, they must be running late, Chavez hadn’t missed a meeting since he’d been invited to his first.
Angela sipped at her coffee and teleported herself another doughnut. Maybe if she stayed quiet long enough someone else would take over and run the meeting. Another thought came to her, if she waited people might think she was waiting for Chavez. She frowned internally at the thought, such consideration would give the blowhard twit entirely too much apparent status. Briefly she thought maybe with more status he would take over the meetings and the worries, but that thought didn’t last long. His interpersonal skills left a lot to be desired, and he was not fully capable of the job. Her vacation might last an hour. Then they would hunt her down redoubling their loyalties to her.
Angela put down the doughnut and sighed,
so who should she address first, “Gene, what have you got?”
Gene jumped, knocking over his stack, finally turning his eyes on Angela. He was getting old, she noticed, passing from debonair to distinguished.
“I have the readings and latest simulations of Yllera. My tests show’s her morphic gland is becoming increasingly active, and her hormonal levels may be building towards some sort of metamorphosis. Her Everett rating has doubled since her last checkup. She’s almost at the point of involuntary psychokinetic display. I project that by her next checkup she may be beginning to teleport. I can’t get anything clear on the morphic simulations though. It’s too much of an unknown. It’s been generations since the plague blocked the Agurian shape shifting abilities, and she’s not following the pre-plague developmental patterns. Already she’s managing mimicry on the genetic- molecular level, but has shown no sign of physical shape shifting. That’s opposite to all of my pre-plague models.”
Angela nodded. She liked reports from Gene and missed them; he didn’t couch them in incomprehensibly complex medical language. “What about Doctor Wilson, what does he think?”
Gene shrugged, “He retired, six months ago. Tina thinks Yllera may have some kind of plague crisis to look forward to in the near future.”
Angela blinked, setting her stock contemplative expression number one, it gave her a few minutes to respond. Wilson, retired? Lucky son-of-a-seahorse! “What kind of crisis?”
Gene sorted through the pop-pads. Angela missed that too, most people just had one, and flipped through to the pages they wanted. When Gene found something he wanted, he froze it on screen and just grabbed another pad. It gave her some time to breathe while he found what he wanted.
“Here it is!” Gene mumbled triumphantly, “Oh! Tina thinks that Yllera will become either a fully functional Agurian, or she’ll die.”
“That would be a crisis,” Dennis, Ralph’s mouthpiece from R&D mumbled from across the table.
Angela glared him down, more for not being Ralph than for his tasteless comment. Regardless, Dennis leaned back, silenced by her glare. She glanced around the table and found Erica, Yllera’s field supervisor. Angela smiled at her,
“Erica, has Yllera reported anything relevant to her condition?”
“Sorry, chief no mention, though it’s been a while since her last report. She should be sending the next one any time now. Last time she was beginning to grumble about her assignment. After the Miranda thing, I think she kind of expected more,” Erica answered, the adoring look in her eyes made it clear Angela was the uncomfortable object of residual hero worship.
How in the heck would Angela ever manage to quit with people like Erica around? “We’ll talk promotion after her next report.”
A scuffle in the doorway announced a late arrival. Angela leaned back in her chair, happy to wait for whomever it was before continuing the meeting. It turned out to be Chavez and Niri. Angela didn’t need telepathy to know that there was some bone of contention between them.
“Welcome to the meeting,” Angela said slowly enough to make it sound displeased.
“Sorry, there was a slight medical problem,” Chavez excused, while seating himself.
Gene raised his eyebrow at that. Of course he was paying attention now, Angela thought privately to herself.
Niri stood for a moment longer, before taking her seat behind Chavez in one of the assistant level chairs lining the wall. “One of my student’s had an accident. Tina’s taking care of her.”
“Accident,” scoffed Chavez quietly, “She ran face first into a pole.”
Angela sensed Niri glaring into the back of Chavez’s head. “Since you’re here Chavez, do you think we could discuss the declining factor enrolment? New factors are down twenty percent in the last few years,” Angela asked, curious because without new factors where would she find a replacement, and conversely if the factors ceased to exist by attrition maybe she could quit after all.
Chavez sat up straight and turned to glare at Niri, who seemed almost as surprised as he was by Angela’s chosen topic. His violent reaction doubled her curiosity at the answer. “I, uh, have been having trouble finding qualified applicants.”
“Qualified applicants are coming out of the walls! You’ve had trouble accepting their applications! How many kids have to run themselves up poles to get your attention? You elitist piece of . . .” Niri shouted leaping uncharacteristically from her chair, only barely stopping herself before she could say something inappropriate.
Both of Angela’s eyebrows rose, this was worth coming to the meeting for.
“She doesn’t even have human Everett ratings! She’s . . . She’s . . . Tele-pathetic! That’s what she is!” Sinclair growled in response.
The room fell silent, until a softly angry retort came from a surprising mouth. Gene asked, “And telepathy is the end all and be all of sentient existence?”
Sinclair’s built up verbal momentum stalled and sputtered to a halt, “Uh, um, that is to say. . .”
Mouth opened foot inserted, and he was starting to chew. Okay, so he wasn’t a top gun in an argument- or anywhere else. What is it people say? If you can, do. If you can’t, teach. Somebody should bail the poor slob out. Angela let a smirk slip out. It looked like a good time to put Sinclair in his place.
“So, what you’re saying, Sinclair, is that your personal prejudices are what has been decreasing factor enrolment,” Angela asked, barely managing not to laugh out loud at the clown. Angela’s question met silence.
“He has rejected at least half the kids that applied out of the last ten of my pre-training classes. They’re the ones that applied early and young, the ones that want it the most.”
“She’d have me take all of those students of hers!” Sinclair whined.
“No just the ones that actually apply, despite all I could do to discourage them by way of showing how much work becoming a factor will be. Instead he pursues the ones with telempathic pedigrees out the yang. Who incidentally couldn’t really care less about being factors. They just took the class to be
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cool’, and only stayed in after it got hard because their parents were so darn proud that they made them! They don’t want a thing to do with factoring.
He’s been behind the desk so long shoveling applications that all he ever sees anymore at are the Everett scores,” Niri said sitting down, telepathically glowing in a self-satisfied way.
“There! She said she discourages application!” Sinclair leapt on Niri’s words, clearly not comprehending what she had said.
Gene snickered then shoved aside his pop-pads and rose, “Might I offer a suggestion?” Angela nodded, she knew what it was even without being able to read his mind, and she could hug him for it.
A
Why don’t we try to see which is the better judge of factor potential? They could both pick their
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ideal’ applicant and then you test them. Heck take it a step further, find out which of them has the better training techniques too. Have them train their applicants for a while after the first test. Then test them again and see which can perform better in the end with all the resources available to a factor.” Gene made the suggestion sound so off the top of his head, and knowing Gene it was, but he had made the same sort of speech before, in the good old days.