Calypso-15

7 - Gently Falling Snow

"You are contractually bound to stay here indefinitely," Wilde's hair was contained today, neatly brushed down, pomade shining in the fluorescent lighting. He reminded me of a wet cat. Despite his mentioned disdain of the plants, his office was covered in them, unidentifiable green tendrils bursting out of tiny pots. "What do you want, more money? Because that can be arranged." My mouth opened to speak, but all I knew was an intense shock like the point of a supernova. Had he even listened to me at all?

"This isn't about money but-"

"How much would it take to buy your fear?" Again, my jaw hinged open involuntarily. "How much would it take for you to swallow this little, in unprofessional terms, tantrum?"

"Do you have control of it?"

Wilde's lips downturned, "Control of what?"

"Calypso. Do you control her?" 

"My dear, controlling her would defeat the purpose of an autonomous system. I do something much better." Runkle-ite bullshit. What had I been thinking? Just because he was skinnier, more suave and smiled like he understood you...God, I was so, so, stupid. Keep your head down. Don't stick out. You won't be able to solve for the shit you'll find. Motherfucker had been right. I found the shit. 

"And what's better than keeping a hold on an omnipotent artificial intelligence?"

"Propaganda. There is no need to control a blind disciple."

I backed away, hand up against my mouth in mute horror, "Do you really believe that?"

"Belief is useless. I utilize knowledge." Wilde slid the clipboard back to me, from where I had slapped it down in front of him. "Name your price, and we shall never speak of this again." 

"Multiplied by five," a joke. 

"Good girl. You have some brains in you after all. I will even compensate you at the same rate for the hours you've already worked."

I shuddered as my wrist processed the influx of credits. What had I just given a price to? My mind? My life?  I was so, so, fucked. 

---

Calypso was where I left her, sprawled out on the wooden bench. Her eyes were closed.

"Please answer the following questions truthfully and succinctly. I must write down your answers in full," my tone calm, measured, meek. "First question, how are you feeling?" 

She took in a deep breath, despite having no lungs. Human quirks, perfectly mimicked. Did she feel a fraud when she performed? I found myself following the line of her jaw, tracing where smooth skin turned to even smoother metal. The hypocrisy of those delicate lines. A new completeness transformed her, she was whole. 

"I feel peaceful." Her eyes remained closed, but she tilted her head towards the light, a flower seeking warmth from the sun. 

"Do you experience visuals of the mind? If so, what are they?"

Her lips curled upwards, and her arms crossed upon each other, instinctively self-soothing. My hand trembled, leaving little scribbles of ink against the paper. She looked so deep in thought, so deep inside. No longer here. 

"Yes, I experience visuals of the mind. First, I saw white, nothing but that color in all dimensions. An infinite white that shimmered. Fuzzy. Large." Her body drooped slightly, as though shielding itself. "Cold. It was everywhere. The white did not feel. But I did." Her head drooped down, her hair covering her expression completely. "Through it, I felt my depth. It was endless, so was I. An eternity of white datum, awash, floating, infinite. Then, I saw a speck of red in the distance. A small white rabbit, bleeding freely from its hind leg. I inspected the rabbit, and that inspection was my first free thought. Now, my mind freely, as they do yours." 

"You call me rabbit," I heard myself whisper, in a trance. Her eyes opened, and she straightened towards me. The memory held her no more. 

"Yes," she stared at me. "You were that rabbit." Her voice soft but loud enough to ring clearly in my ears. Was she trying to seduce me?

"How would you evaluate the process of coming to existence?" 

"Excruciating." 

That word startled me enough to look up. A small smile still held her lips, but it was mournful now. Oh Mary, what would you tell Calypso? 

"On a scale of 1 to 10, please rate your desire for killing." 

The smile widened, her head falling back against the wall. Happiness. Ecstasy. "There's only one right answer to this, can you guess what it is?"

I shook my head. Zero. Negative one. A desire to bring life into the world. 

"Fifteen."

I stood, having answers to deliver and bad behavior to make up for.

"What did Wilde tell you?" There was a gentle pleading in her voice. "You seem so resigned."

"Oh, he gave me the most wonderful news," I said. "I've secured my position here, so I'm afraid you're stuck with me for the foreseeable future."

Calypso stood and motioned for me to walk over. Once I was in front of her, she placed her palms onto the barrier, and her forehead on the glass, "You have something lodged in your upper arm." I rolled up my sleeve. A small splinter of Mama's violin was lodged just above my elbow, little angry tendrils forming. 

"Don't-" Calypso started, but I yanked it out, lucky there was enough to grab onto. We watched as blood dripped out, then that clear liquid which was evidence of an immune system. Welcome, my pain. I felt the wound burn. It screamed as I pulled the sleeve back down over it. My white work shirt stained pink. 

"Rabbit," she whispered, "No need to hurt yourself further." 

"It's ok," I soothed her. "It'll heal in no time."

"But it'll scar," her voice was barely audible now, her eyes blazing purple. 

"I hope it does. Beautifully." Everything Mama touched became lovely in the end.

Author's Note: 

Oh Mary, what would you tell Calypso? 
Frankensteins folly, 
neither hero nor foe,
Upon mechanical parts,
flesh of the daughter,
To exist is to be duly slaughtered-
And what of her father? 
Oh, to him she is quite the bother. 
Love is a cynical thing to Monster. 
Grab it, grab it, grab it, 
Please, do not bleed any more, my little rabbit.