41 This face is so familiar it’s blinding, like looking into the sun—the arc of his nose, the slope of his forehead, the shape of his ears and lips, the color of his eyes and the angle of his cheekbones. They are all features I know as well as I know my own, but then of course I do—they are my own. If everyone in this pod is One on some psychic, even spiritual, level, he is more than that, because he is me. He is my Terrax and we are on the same pod. It is here, now, that I recognize something else about shock. When we are in shock we go about our business as if there is no other business going on around us. As soon as I see him, everything else, and everywhere else is gone, doesn’t matter, the shuttle, the Corporation, the oneness of those of us on the pod. All thoughts of these things have dispersed. I am focused on me, well, I am often focused on me in metaphorical way. But it is me, and it is so similar it’s breathtaking. There is an immediate desire to run to him, touch him, make sure he’s real, living, breathing, a warm body like the rest of us. There is even a desire to start questioning him about me, us, me, what does he know that I don’t? Does he struggle with the same things that I do? Because you don’t have to be in shock to block things out, repress and bury them, our fears and jealousies, the painful memories. And with that I think back to just hours ago, before all this, and my father, and how different his smile looked. What, what was that, where had that memory existed previously , and is it a real memory, or created by me to cope O R P H A N S 146 with something I am just now letting myself think about? Or, has this memory been planted there to mislead me in some way? Is the mere idea that a memory can be planted something the Corporation would do just to trap us in the endless loop of our own thoughts? And now I’m really spinning, head pounding. I slam my eyes shut and try to breathe, slowly, one breath, two, three and more, more, and calm, and I’m almost there. I regain a sense of calm and look back up. He’s gone, vanished, fuck, fuck me, was that all in my head, because maybe that is what shock really is, fabricating our worst and most undesirable objects of confusion. Forcing us to face that which we can never know, always lost halfway through a thought we will never finish? Because of course this is only partly about the Corporation at best. What it’s actually about is Shalla and trying to make sense of how not to destroy that, us, and knowing I am so very capable of that, and that he is not. The Terrax is the better me. He may not feel like me or hug like me, but he is a better version in so many ways. I apparently am not up for the job of husband. I am limited and weak. And he is not. It’s that simple. However, say the Terrax was still here? He wouldn’t have to just haunt me, he could teach me, I could learn from him. What to do and not to do, the things that a father might teach you if there were around to do so. My father is not around though, hasn’t been, won’t be, and that is not going to change. The Terrax though is, was, and seeing him, that was an opportunity, a chance for something , and now it’s just a loss, even if it was never real in the first place, just shock and fear and longing. [44.211.188.101] Project MUSE (2024-03-29 13:31 GMT) B E N TA N Z E R 147 The train comes to a halt. We’re at our stop. I shake myself out of my reverie and concentrate on leaving the train, not bumping into people, keeping contact to a minimum . As we all spew forth from the train I see him again. He moved. I missed it. And there is still hope. ...