Futura Memoratia

Chapter 7 fatuus (fool)

He made a face like he was impressed.  “Did he now?  Well then, you’re among a blessed few to get an apology from Rodney McKay.”  He smiled.  “And, by the way, I was there today.  I assume Rodney was talking about transferring the personal shield?  Thank you for that.”

She glanced at him with surprise.  “You go off-world with Rodney’s team?”

“Oh, aye, from time to time.  It’s not my favorite thing to do.  I’d rather be seeing patients.”

When the mess came into view, she stopped in her tracks, thoughts racing, as she noted McKay and his team were the only occupants.  Of course, these were Beckett’s friends.  Who else would she expect?  

Carson turned and said, “Is there something wrong, Emily?”

She gazed at the group in the mess, suddenly feeling cornered and insecure.  “Carson, I’ll be honest.  I’d like to go to New Athos, but I’m nervous about gating there.”  She looked away, quietly admitting, “I don’t want to get sick in front of other people again.”  Especially not those people.

“Oh?”

She hesitated.  “I’m just making friends here.  This is something that is so humiliating and I just. . . I can’t control it.  I don’t want to. . . be the subject of the latest running jokes again.”  She looked at him, pleading, “Isn’t there anything else I could try that might prevent it from happening?”

He looked thoughtful and gently steered her off in another direction, toward the infirmary.  “Well, what aspect of gate travel do you think is the problem?  Is it anxiety?” 

She trudged along beside him, considering her response.  “I tried anxiety medications.  They didn’t change anything.”

“Well, I’ve studied your chart, run my own tests, and I’m afraid I’m none the wiser.  Do you have any theories?  I’m sorry to be so blunt, Emily, but the symptoms are very non-specific.  It would be hard for me to venture a guess at what is causing them.”  He frowned and looked at her frankly.

No one had ever asked her what she thought it was before.  They’d just made a lot of assumptions.  She’d always thought the two things must be related, but had never mentioned it before, because of the way things had played out.  She swallowed hard and asked,  “Could it be the. . . motion?”  

He furrowed his brow.  “I don’t understand.  You walk into one event horizon and immediately out through another one.”

“You do—but I don’t.  I feel it.  I sense the movement through space, somehow.  It’s brief, of course, but I know it’s there.  I try to brace myself for it, but it’s so intense.  I can’t seem to manage. . . .”  She trailed off, watching him for signs of disbelief.

He looked thoughtful.  “Yes, I remember you said that.  Surely it couldn’t be as simple as motion sickness.”  He gave her an odd look.  “You know, the symptoms do fit for a pretty extreme case.  Have they ever given you simple dramamine?”

“No.  Pain medicine, anti-nausea.  They even tried beta-blockers and anti-psychotics,” she said grimly.

He frowned.  “Yes, I saw that in your file.  Do you ever get travel sickness otherwise?”

“Yes.  Frequently—especially if I try to read a book or something while in a car or on a plane.  Usually I just close my eyes and try to nap so it doesn’t happen.”

“I wonder why they never tried dramamine?” he mused.

“No one ever believed me when I said I could sense the wormhole!  The first time I mentioned it—they sent me for a psych consult and made me go to therapy.  They thought I was imagining it. . . or worse.  After a while, I figured I’d better shut up about it or I might lose my job.  What happens to you if you’re fired from a super-secret job in a hidden underground bunker because they think you’re crazy?  You’re the only person that ever. . . .”  She trailed off and angrily dashed away a tear that drooped from an eyelash.