After Image

When Viola finally woke up no longer in a fog of anesthetic, her first thought was relief. She had been in and out of consciousness since the surgery that they had forced on her; the doctor’s hovering around her making sure they hadn’t damaged anything important. What processes and functions of her brain they felt were important were beyond Viola’s knowledge. Now that she was finally able to think clearly, she assessed for herself and her state of mind. She didn’t feel different from before, but if they had damaged something while poking around inside her head, I guess she would never know. She already knew that her speech and vision were functioning. She had mobility and the ability to swallow. They had even tested to see if she could form an Image, though she still was not allowed to pull the Image into existence. Humming softly to herself before opening her eyes to the reality of her situation, she reviewed her favorite subjects in her head. Assessed her working knowledge of psychology, writing, and photography and deemed them acceptable. Finally opening her eyes she noticed she was alone in a moderate sized room. There was a wardrobe, a table and chair, a desk and a bookshelf. Obviously this was her permanent room now and no longer the recovery room she had been in for the past week or so. Taking a deep breath for courage, she touched her head. There was a small amount of fuzzy hair that had grown back since they had shaved her head. She traced her fingers along the line of staples that held together her skin where they had made the incision. She counted them with her fingers and was disappointed when she realized they went across a large portion of the back of her head. The line stopped when she reached seventy-seven.

She finally sat up not sure exactly how she felt or what she was supposed to feel. It all felt unreal. She thought about waking up during the surgery and having to answer questions while they violated her brain and suddenly she was overwhelmed with emotion. She started to cry uncontrollably, hugging her arms around her. How was any of this fair? She scoffed at this thought which made her laugh along with her tears. Life wasn’t fair. She had learned that after failing at her dream of being a writer. This was no different than that, except that this situation felt a whole lot more painful and violating.

She wiped her tears from her eyes for the moment and glanced around the room to see if they had provided her with her own bathroom or if she would have to have the indignity of an escort every time she needed to relieve herself. She saw one door opposite to her bed that had no handle and assumed that was the door to her cell. To her right was another door, this one with a levered handle and no lock. Getting up from the bed and trying to walk for the first time since her surgery, she found her legs to be more stable than she had imagined. She realized that pneumatic compression stockings were still wrapped around her legs and before she could leave the bedside she had to take them off. She was thankful that the medical care they had given her, although unwanted, had been thorough enough to remember to keep her legs stimulated so they did not atrophy. Once she was unencumbered – they had removed her intravenous line the previous day – she walked slowly to the door with the handle and opened it. Inside a light came on automatically with the movement and through the flickering she made out a sink, mirror and toilet. Past the toilet she saw a metal rack with various toiletries from toilet paper and soap, to loofahs and towels. She realized that occupying the back of the water closet was a shower without a curtain. She frowned at the meaning of this and looked at the glove that covered her hand. She grimaced as she realized that most likely showers would involve a supervisor as she wound need to remove her glove for this act and that meant potential Imaging and escape. It’s probably a good thing I am not shy in regards to my body, she thought. She shut the door quietly behind her and used the facilities, washing her one free hand awkwardly. At least they didn’t put cameras in here, she thought as she looked around the room with more scrutiny. She couldn’t stand to think of the indignity that a camera in the bathroom would have caused her.

Once back in the room she went to the wardrobe and found some neutral coloured sweat pants and shirts. She grabbed the set on the top and dressed herself. She was glad to no longer be in a hospital gown. Sitting back on the bed she grabbed her knees, leaning against the wall and looking around the room again. This is my life now, she thought in despair and instead of going to the desk to write in the notebooks they had provided for her, or reading the books that were sitting on the shelf beside the desk, she instead slid onto her side on the bed, closed her eyes and let tears silently slip from her eyes. She pulled the blanket on her bed over her, completely obscuring her frame and blocking out the harsh overhead lights. If they expected her to be subjected to an invasion of her mind, the sheering of all the hair from her head, and confinement in a locked room, and just go along with all their plans, they had another thing coming. They may have her body, but her mind would never be theirs, no matter what they did to it. Cooperation would not be happening anytime in the near future.

The next three days passed by in a hazy blur to Viola. It was soon evident to her captors that she had no intention of touching any of the food they left for her to eat. People came into her room and tried to engage her and she completely ignored them, only reacting to them when they replaced an IV in her arm for fluids as she was becoming increasingly dehydrated. They had tried at first to get her moving and off the bed, but Viola refused to open her eyes and made herself limp whenever they touched her. She could hear concern in the doctor’s voices that filed through her room and increased annoyance from all the other people that came to prompt her to action. They needed an active participant and instead they were dealing with a catatonic, lifeless doll.

On the fourth day, Will made a reappearance in Viola’s life. She assumed that his usefulness in her ‘project’ had expired once she had been detained, but as she was unresponsive, they had decided to use him as a tactic to prompt her to action. His presence did have an effect on her, but it was volatile in nature.

When she first heard his voice, his perfect resonating British accented voice, she tensed. Will saw this change and thought that maybe it was a good sign. He walked over and sat on the edge of her bed.

“Viola, everyone is very concerned about you,” Will said softly. This made Viola turned around and look at him. Her face was a mass of seething anger and with all the strength she could muster she balled her hand into a fist and tried to strike Will. Slow and weak from lack of nutrition, he effortlessly caught her hand in his.

“I hate you,” she said weakly, her hand dropping back to her side.

“I told them getting me to come in here was not the best choice,” Will replied.

“You cut off all my hair and cut open my head,” Viola replied.

“I’m not a doctor, Viola, I didn’t have any involvement in that.”

Viola sat up, glaring at him. She realized that sometime over the last three days they had taken the staples out of her head, but she didn’t recall the event at all. She was starving and moving around made her acutely aware of the pain in her stomach.

“Viola, I know that you think this passive resistance is going to help your situation, but they are only so tolerant.”

She looked at the IV that was on the back of her left wrist and shrunk into herself. “I wasn’t trying to help myself out of this situation, Will,” Viola replied.

“What did you expect to accomplish?” Will asked.

Viola gave an insincere smile, the smile she reserved for hopeless and horrible situations that she couldn’t change. “I was trying to kill myself. Guess I should have known that an IV would be coming so I couldn’t. I guess the next step is a nasogastric tube?”

“Or you could just eat. It would be less painful for you,” Will supplied, pointing at the table where a tray of food was sitting that Will had brought in with him.

Viola got up from the bed and wandered over to the table and began eating the bland food that was there. Will came and sat across from her.

“You are surprisingly easy to convince,” Will said.

Viola looked up from her food and glared at Will. “I’m not unreasonable,” Viola replied. “When presented with logic I’m not a stubborn fool. I guess if you call seeing the truth of the matter quickly, then yes, I am easy to convince.”

Viola finished her meal in silence and reluctantly, annoyed with the concern she felt, initiated a conversation with Will. “How is your nose?”

Will smiled at her and touched his nose. It was in the stage of healing where the skin was a discoloured sickly yellow and brown. “Almost as good as new,” Will replied.

“I’m sorry about that, by the way,” Viola said and quickly added, “but you deserved it.”

“You are a very complex person, Viola. Apologizing to your captor.”

“I’m not a violent person,” Viola responded. “Even if you did abduct me, hurting you makes me feel extremely dirty.” Viola waved her hand to brush away the previous conversation. “Never mind that, what I really want to know is why I had surgery performed on my brain.” She suddenly felt self conscious about the fact that she had just a fuzz of hair on her head now instead of her straight long brown locks.

Will leaned back in his chair and touched his ear with his hand. Viola finally realized that their conversation was being carefully monitored. Of course it is. She waited to see if Will was allowed to respond to her question. She glanced around the room, finally noticing the variety of cameras that were monitoring her and shivered. It was unnerving to think that she was being watched at every moment of her life now. Thinking about it, she realized that she had been under the camera for a lot longer than she had ever known, even in the supposed privacy of her own home.

“So did you get permission to let me know why I was violated?” Viola asked, getting frustrated by the growing silence as Will listened to a private conversation.

Will finally pulled his eyes back towards Viola. “They determined that it is in their best interests for you to be informed of the procedure and it effects, yes. I’m sorry you felt violated, Viola, I really am.” Viola was taken aback by the addition of Will’s personal feelings towards her situation. It was the only part of their conversation so far that had not felt scripted and forced.

“They implanted a microchip inside your brain that when activated will send data to the quantum computer that they have in their possession,” Will finished.

Viola sat sober for a moment without a word, thinking about the implications of that. Quantum computer, so most likely they will be able to track the usage of the quantum energy that I use for Imaging. Is that all they will be able to see? I know nothing about quantum computers. How much of mind will be accessible to them? Will they be able to control my thoughts and actions? She grimaced involuntarily and stopped with her next thought. I wonder if the connection is both ways. If there is a computer chip in my brain, will I be able to access their quantum computer?

“If you are finally feeling up to it, they would like to get the chip functioning and do some preliminary tests.”

“They?” Viola inquired.

“What?” Will responded, confused by the response he had gotten.

“You keep saying They instead of We,” Viola responded. “I can’t help feeling like you suddenly are trying to distance yourself from the people that are doing this to me. You can’t be here as an envoy for them and feel like you are not a part of what is happening. You should own your choices, Will.

“In response to your question, what choice do I really have? It doesn’t matter if I am feeling up to it. You want the tests completed and so it will be. I have no intention of making the process easier for you, if that is what you wish.”

Will looked startled for a moment and remained silent. With a slightly defeated look he nodded his head in response to some unheard reply he was being given to Viola’s comments and headed to the door, knocking gently on it. The door opened a few seconds later and Viola saw Eli step through. Her heart sunk and the rage that she had been trying to contain began to boil again.

Eli came further into the room and sat down at the table where Will had been earlier. Will stood behind him and guards stood at the still open door. From the arrangement of things, Viola figured Eli was only here for a short visit.

The first thing Eli did was to reach out his hand and touch the fuzz that was on her head. The sudden tenderness with which he did this made tears form in Viola’s eyes. She saw the same tears mirrored in Eli’s eyes.

“Are you in any pain?” Eli asked. Viola just shook her head, not trusting herself to speak. “I’m glad. I tried, Viola, I tried extremely hard to stop this all from happening, but I have about as much power in all of this as you do.”

Viola puzzled over this statement for a moment. It almost sounded to her as if Eli had been a part of all of this from the beginning. That can’t be true. I Imaged him such a short time ago. “I don’t understand, Eli. Don’t tell me you are on their side,” Viola replied.

Eli shook his head furiously. “No, nothing like that. Viola, all of this isn’t what you think it is. Mrs. Ironside -” Will clamped his hand hastily over Eli’s mouth and dragged him towards to guards at the door. Viola stood up, knocking her chair over in the process and regretted the sudden movement. Lightheaded from lack of food over the past week she weakly rested against the table, unable to do anything about what was happening to Eli. When she finally regained her composure and looked up, she was alone again in the room with Will.

“What am I supposed to take from that?” Viola asked. What do I think this is, Eli? And if it isn’t what I come up with, then what is it? Who is Mrs. Ironside? “Don’t answer that,” Viola added. “I already know the answer.” If I don’t care much about what happens to myself I must care about what happens to those close to me. I’m sorry they involved you Eli, but truthfully I am glad they chose you rather than the rest of my family.

“You have my cooperation, for now,” Viola said through clenched teeth. She didn’t like the angry person that she was becoming, that Will and Mrs. Ironside were turning her into. Don’t let them change you. They don’t have that power over you. Only you have the power to change yourself. Don’t let them take away anything that you are. If the only thing you can control is how you react to what they throw at you then so be it, at least it’s something you control and not something else that is theirs to command.