INSTINCT
1994
Chapter 19 of Senses
Of all the ways for it to begin, it occurred during a video game.
Now Earth-shattering events don't happen during video games. The way it works is that one leader says something to another, a wrong button is pushed, or someone makes a speech. Nothing that will keep me from a high score on Galaga.
I'm good at that game. Although the manufacturers claim it is impossible to roll over the score, I've done it. I'll break two million without thinking about it. Of course, the machine has to be fixed afterwards, but that's not my problem.
It happened at a bar I frequented called Tammiey's Tavern, just off of Pacific Coast Highway. It's an old wooden-style place that's right on the beach, nestled between the rocks in a small cove between Ventura and Santa Barbara. It's a nice place. The story begins there.
It was level seven of the game, It's not even challenging at that point, so I had one eye on the room. My friend Mats was at the jukebox putting on Boston's Man I'll Never Be. I love good rock and roll, and starting tapping my right foot to the beat of the music.
I suppose you want a better description of the bar, don't you? Sorry, but I'm not going to give it to you. For one thing, I'm not Spider Robinson and Tammiey's is not Callahan's Place. Besides, this is my war.
It's important to understand something at this point, because I may forget to mention it again. I sing. Not too loud, not too strong, not too good, but I sing. I was singing then, as I consider Man I'll Never Be one of Boston's best.
I first noticed a rhythmic vibration in the video machine in round eight. Someone was tapping on the machine! I glared up.
I stopped glaring.
She was five foot seven, a good six inches shorter than me. Her hair was red, just like mine, but shorter; more like a Beatles cut than my shoulder-length locks. No part in her hair.
The eyes were Irish blue. Small nose, a couple of freckles on the cheeks, but they added to rather than blemished the face. She wore no makeup.
She had a slender figure, perfectly shaped mid-sized breasts, some gorgeous curves around the hips, but I couldn't leave her face. She looked right at me, into my eyes. It was a soul searching look, and it spoke volumes to me. I had never seen the look before, but I recognized it instantly.
I love you.
Her mouth moved, but there was no sound. I realized quickly that she was mouthing the words to the song playing on the jukebox. I ignored the game to stand barely four inches from her, staring at that incredible face.
So you believe in love at first sight? I do. I most certainly do. I could look into that face forever. She wrapped one arm around my waist. The feeling was intently erotic as I began singing the song back to her. We both sang but only I made a sound, serenading her softly with the song. Then she pulled me next to her body and kissed my cheek. As she leaned her head on my chest as we embraced, I noticed her smile and saw how it matched my own.
I was in love.
It seemed an eternity that we stood there, swaying to the beat of the music. In reality, it must have been only thirty seconds.
The woman turned when an older gentleman tapped her on the shoulder. She nodded, then turned back to me. We kissed. It was the most passionate kiss I had ever experienced.
As she backed away, she whispered one word, "Debbie."
I nodded. "'drink," I said.
She smiled, then joined the older man. As the two of them left the tavern, she blew me one last kiss. Then she was gone.
It was Mats who brought my attention back into the real world. "Who was that?" he asked me.
"Said her name was Debbie," I responded.
He nodded.
"Mats," I said, "I can die now. I've lived a full life."
Mats smiled. "You gonna live again?"
"I haven't a clue."
"Did you get her number? Address? Age? Shoe size?"
"Negative on that trajectory, Houston."
"Man, you are mental. That was your future that just walked out that door."
I looked at Mats. "Door's not closed, my friend."
He shook his head. "You act so sure she'll be back."
"I know she will," I said.
At that point I didn't care if I was right, but both Mats and I knew I was.
My name is Joseph 'drink Davis. Yes, that middle name is 'drink, with an apostrophe and a lower case d. Just try being born the son of college age parents from Kent State in 1969. I have no idea what the reference is, but I do know it's obscure literature.
At any rate, I like it so I use it.
Mats goes by an odd variation of his own name. His name is Matthias Gibraltar. We've buddied around for nearly two decades, seeing the world and doing odd things. We were longshoremen in Boston, laborers in Austin, street performers in San Francisco, and house painters in Toronto. Now we were taking the money we had saved for fifteen years and were building a house on the beach, not far from Tammiey's.
I was 27 years old then, Mats was 26. How did we manage to get enough money together to build a house on the coast of California? You live off the land. Mats is a hunter; he captures his own food. Me, I fish. I love the ocean right at sunrise. It's peaceful, serene, yet full of life.
I digress. My point is that without paying for food or rent, you can save a lot of money quick if you're working. We did it from preteen times.
Do we sound like mountain men? We act like it. Hell, I shaved my beard only two weeks before I first set eyes on Debbie.
First set eyes on Debbie.
I just played the recording back and found that I ramble a bit.
Well, tough. I've been asked to tell the story in my own words, and my own words are what you get.
Profile: Joseph 'drink Davis.
Born June 9, 1969, Terran Standard.
Profession: Drifter.
Hello, Mats here. I remember the first time I found what we Terrans refer to as a class M world. It was an emotional high to realize that the expansion effort could continue. It's a feeling I've felt many times.
The discovery of Mat's Place was the one discovery I've kept secret from The Foundation until now. I realized the trap that 'drink was heading for so I made a few stashes.
Does that make me a criminal? I don't think so, but I don't really care. The Foundation thinks I'm too valuable and I exploit it and they know it. No one else in history has reported more class M worlds than I have.
Big deal. It's easy.
I guess I looked at Mat's Place as a vacation home. About eighty percent ocean and twenty percent land. Low radiation, so evolution has been slow. Young planet, about 4 billion years. There are no land-based life forms other than plants as of yet, but the oceans are teeming.
There's another thing I like about exploring. I get to listen to rock and roll. Terra's great contribution to Federal culture. A good Grateful Dead CD will get me from Mars to Beetleguise at sublight.
All the people who count like rock music.
Profile: Matthias Gibraltar.
Born, January 16, 1970, Terran Standard.
Profession: Contract Explorer.
The next time I ('drink) met Debbie was on the highway, several days later. I was driving my old Buick rag top, just soaking in the world. I wasn't going anywhere in particular, just driving on my little stretch of Pacific Coast Highway, and then there she was.
I was a half mile behind her when I spotted her on the road. I couldn't see her clearly, but I knew it was her. My heart raced, my temperature rose, and butterflies were playing freeze tag in my stomach. It was her.
I raced my car up to her, then brought it to a stop next to her. I asked her if she was looking for someone. She nodded, opening the passenger door of my Buick and getting in. We continued down the road.
"You don't talk much, do you?" I said.
She shook her head. "You married?" she asked.
Nearly everyone comments on the ring. It had started life as a small pewter dragon that had been shaped into a ring by a friend of mine. To make an impossibly long story short, when she died I had it gold-plated and I wear it on the finger that fits; the fourth on my left hand.
"No," I had answered.
"The ring?" she asked.
"Sentimental value," I replied.
"Give it to me."
"I'll want it back," I said.
"Give it to me."
I slipped the ring off my finger and handed it to her. She admired it a moment, examining the fine detail to the dragon's head and mouth. Then she unbuttoned the first button of her blouse and dropped the ring down her shirt.
"Very cute," I said.
She just smiled back.
"I'd like it back," I said.
She was still smiling, but she shook her head no.
"Please, it means a lot," I said.
She ignored me, simply continuing to smile.
Fine. I reached into her shirt and retrieved the ring, which was resting on the front clasp of her bra, and slipped it back on my finger.
She was still smiling, but she was shaking her head. "You were supposed to undo the bra," she said.
Now I laughed. "Missed opportunity," I told her. "I'm willing to wait for another."
She didn't say anything, but the smile remained.
"Now I need to ask you something," I said. "What the hell kind of name is Debbie?"
I use that kind of question to keep people from asking about my own strange name. It worked, as Debbie looked at me shocked. Then she started to laugh. "Blame my parents," she replied. "No sense of humor."
We were rapidly approaching my destination, the home Mats and I were building. I asked her if she wanted to see the place, and she told me she was going wherever I was.
Good.
Mats wasn't home, so I gave Debbie a tour of the house to be. It was going to be a nice house, with ten rooms and a basketball court, and a sauna with hot tub we already had working.
Honesty at this point. It's the afternoon I remember most about this day, not the morning. I do remember asking Debbie why she loved me. Her answer? Instinct.
Yeah, that sounded right.
I also remember making love with her in the sauna.
Hello, Mats here. For those of you not in the know, although this comment is more for posterity than for the jury, what 'drink is going to describe next is bewildering, especially if you don't know anything about Foundation induction methods.
By this point I had been inducted already, although only a few hours previously. Every class two on the planet had been. Hell, there were only two of us.
When I was first picked up I was pissed. Although I realized even then the marvelous opportunity it opened up for me, it wouldn't have been the same without 'drink. Nineteen years and not even a chance to say goodbye? Fuck that, Charlie.
Of course, my stubbornness is how they found out about 'drink in the first place.
Subject: Induction.
Once a suitable subject has been found, the commander should order immediate matter transference. Although the replacement of one known environment with an unknown can cause shock, it is also the most realistic way for the subject to grasp the situation quickly.
It is, of course, vital that the subject adjust quickly.
Subject: Matter Transference.
It is best to transfer a wide area, as the process takes up to ten seconds (translated - Terran standard) and the subject(s) may move during that time, especially during induction.
If a subject leaves the transference field the transference is nulled. Therefore, a stun field is recommended during transference.
That afternoon Debbie and I ('drink) were walking on the beach. We were dressed again and walking arm in arm. I don't know how to describe it except for Debbie's explanation; instinct.
There I go rambling again. What I mean is the feeling that we shared. A writer named Goldman called it True Love (capital T, capital L) but it's more than that. Have you ever seen the film version of Romeo and Juliet with Olivia Hussey? There's a scene where they're together in bed, happy and fulfilled. Just that one scene.
It comes close.
Onward.
We decided to watch the sunset from the cove in front of the house, and found ourselves a place to sit on the rocks. We just watched the waves roll up for a while as the tide pulled in, just in silence holding one another.
Then came the question that changed my life, shatter the Earth for me, and would eventually make me an outlaw.
"Marry me?" she asked.
I looked her dead in the eye and produced another dragon ring, slipping it on her finger. "We already are," I told her. Debbie looked surprised but smiled and took my hand.
And this is the moment.
The universe believes in coincidence. I never doubted it and Mats thinks that existence itself has a vicious sense of humor. Whatever it is, when Debbie and I kissed, we ceased to exist.
That's right, gone. We never were, and were never going to be.
It only lasted ten seconds, but at the time I didn't know that. It could have been seconds or centuries.
We existed again in a large room, with yellow strips on the floor running along the walls. There were two people on the strip. One was Mats. The other was, well, a green thing.
I looked at Mats and held Debbie, who was wide-eyed with surprise. "Spaceship?" I asked.
"Very good," green thing said, "quick adjustment."
"Where?" Debbie asked.
"Shielded geosynchronous orbit around your home planet. I see you weren't alone Mr. Davis."
"'drink," I said. "Call me 'drink. Shielded orbit?"
Mats stepped off the yellow line, walking towards us. "What green thing over here means is we're hiding behind a dead satellite. Can't be spotted from Earth. Hello, Debbie."
Debbie nodded. "You must be Mats."
"I always knew you were from outer space," I said.
"Only for the past few hours," Mats replied. "I'm from Boston, you know that. I was inducted, just like you. Only I got hit earlier."
"Inducted?" Debbie asked. "We've been kidnapped by green space aliens? Sounds very supermarket."
"A sense of humor," green thing said. "Good. Adjustment complete. We're not all green, 'drink. I come from a small planet in the M109 galaxy where the life forms are not just carbon based, but chlorophyll based."
"You're a plant?" I asked.
"By your definitions, yes. That's why I look like peat moss to you."
"You read my mind," I said.
"Yes," green thing said. "I am a class three. Although I do not know what peat moss is, I know I resemble it because you think so, and you're thinking the truth."
"What is this class crap?" I asked.
"Don't worry," Mats said, "it has nothing to do with status. Well, sort of. It's ability, or potential ability. I'm a class two myself, so I was inducted."
"And me?" I asked.
"Class nine, buddy. You're a higher rank than green thing here."
"And what does that mean?" I asked. It was striking me that a pecking order was implied.
"For you, I don't know. Me, I'm going to be a starship pilot." Mats winked and smiled over the thought of it.
"And me?" Debbie asked.
"Not sure," green thing said. "We weren't prepared for you. Don't worry, we'll find out."
That didn't sound right to me so I looked at Mats, who shook his head slightly. All right, green thing was lying. Why?
Answer; they didn't plan for Debbie because she's class zero or one, whatever the bottom rung is. They were here for something specific.
But if they weren't looking for specific classes, why Mats first? I'm higher rated and apparently more important, but they went for Mats.
I wasn't expected to be found here. I'm a bonus. They pick me up, and get Debbie as well. To them, Debbie is baggage.
I looked at green thing. "If you want me, she stays."
"'drink?" Mats said. "She's wearing the ring."
"I know," I replied, covering my hand. "We got married."
Debbie smiled.
"Well!" Mats said, shaking my hand. "Congratulations! I told you she was your future, didn't I?"
"Never doubted," I replied. "Green thing, she stays."
Green thing shook a bit. "Oh, very well. She stays."
"Good," I said. "We have living quarters, I presume?"
Green thing nodded, sort of.
"Good. Show us to them."
Definition: Foundation Goals and Structure.
Goals: The further pursuit and collection of knowledge and thought, through exploration and experimentation.
Class one: Minor empath. Can control crowd situations with speech. Politicians and bureaucrats are the best uses of class one.
Class two: Telempath. can converse on a mind by mind basis, even with thinking computers. Class two individuals are best used as starship pilots, to communicate with on board computers.
Class three: Thought Controller. Can read, control and distort specific thought in any specific target. Best used for library teaching and leading induction sessions.
Class four: Inductor. The name comes from the ability to deduce, not the induction process. Given 2+x=y, and inductor will tell you immediately that x does not equal 2 and y does not equal four. Best used for research (cross reference: Law of Superfluous Equations: postulated Morley.)
Class five: Classified.
Class six: Classified.
Class seven: Classified.
Class eight: Top Level Classified.
Hello, Mats here.
Debbie's last little report looks a bit vague, doesn't it? A bit wrong, perhaps? Well, that's the official entry in The Foundation computers. Notice anything missing?
Well, the missing information was clue number one that something was very wrong.
It was fairly obvious early on that The Foundation didn't know what the hell to do with Debbie. It was my idea to have her just go through the library to find out what was to be found out. Good idea, it turned out.
While 'drink and I were in training, it was obvious to me that 'drink was troubled by the obvious secrecy about his status. I asked one of my instructors about the levels above eight and he denied they even exist. That teacher was quickly replaced.
Now I like teachers; I had considered being one once upon a time. Therefore I went clandestine. Turns out that within The Foundation 'drink was no secret.
Imagine that.
Pilots hear all the best scuttlebutt and rumors. For example, what do the classes really mean? A pilot buddy of mine once transported a Foundation director and found out. It has to do with usable brain function.
For example, most sentient beings use between 15 and 25 percent of their available brain power. Some of us can use more. I don't know what the exact percentages are, except for 'drink, but my pilot buddy tells me the numbers get startlingly high.
He don't know how right he was.