The Weapon - Oblivion  - part 8

By Diana the Valkyrie

I don't want to outlive my daughter

Update: 01/08/2003 to valkyrie05





Fiona:



You'd think I'd be used to it by now. Everyone dies, and hospitals see more

than most. But every time I lose one, there's a pain in my heart. And I tell

the young nurses, the day you stop feeling that pain, that's the day you

stopped caring, and you need to rethink your position as a nurse. It isn't a

job, it isn't a career, it's something you do because you care.



They wanted me to work in an office, to push papers around. They wanted me as

a figurehead, to be able to say "Yes, Fiona's on the Management Team." Stuff

that. I'm no office girl. Pillows and bedpans, that's me. Even if I do need a

bit of help lifting the patients these days. So, as soon as I could, I got

away from "Live Long and Prosper", what a stupid name, and wangled myself a

job at the Royal Melbourne Infirmary. It wasn't difficult. All I had to do was

tell a blatant bare-faced lie about my age. I halved it, told them I was 52,

and kept a straight face while I said it.



Getting out there was easy; I really didn't think I'd be able to take the 24

hour nonstop air flight, so I got Wendy to take me there. It took an hour, and

was a really pleasant journey. I even got to talk with Duncan again, I never

thought I would. He seemed fine, although I wasn't sure about his remark about

joining him there one day. I mean, he isn't really there, it's just an

emulation that Wendy's running. Do I want to be an emulation? Hmmm. Maybe.



Is that really any different from being remembered? We all want to leave

something behind when we die, and I would like to be remembered, by at least a

few people. Especially by Wendy, who changed my life so much, changed so many

lives so much. And if Wendy would help other people remember me via this

emulation thing, maybe that wasn't so bad, either. Like looking at old photos,

old video tapes, only more so. And with Wendy being my sort-of adopted

daughter, who better?



And once I was at Melbourne, I just kept telling this totally transparent lie

about my age, with a totally straight face. They didn't believe me, of course,

but they pretended to, because there's a severe nurse shortage everywhere. I

might not be able to run around like a spring chicken, but I can certainly

make myself useful in a ward. And they knew who I was, "Yes, actually, I am

*that* Senior Ward Nursing Sister Fiona."



As it happened, I slipped into something of a teaching role. Maybe the

machines and medicines have changed in the last hundred years, but people

haven't. And nursing is very much about people. One of the primary roles of a

nurse is to infuse the patients with the will to live. There's a lot of

comfort in knowing that there's someone who cares, watching over you. Being

young and pretty helps. Being old and interesting is another way. And I've

certainly led an interesting life. I could tell them about my years as a young

nurse, my experiences as a senior ward sister, and most of all, I could tell

them stories about the Guardian of Humanity, who I knew better than almost

anyone else. And if anyone inspires hope, she does.



Bedpans haven't changed.



Wendy popped in to visit from time to time, it was always great when she did,

and the hospital didn't mind me skiving off a bit. Plus, I'd inveigle her down

to the hospital, and she'd do conjuring tricks for the patients, who

absolutely adored her, she was like totally the Spirit of Hope. I'm pretty

sure that some patients willed themselves to live longer just so that they

could meet the Guardian of Humanity. And then after they'd met her, they had

the Spirit of Hope inside them.



She was very busy these days, hauling prefabricated power stations around the

world, and from what she said, she had a great relationship with her academic

friend. And each time I saw her, I'd ask. "Are you ... ?" "No, not yet, Fee. I

do love him, but, well, you know..." I knew. It was Duncan. It wasn't that she

thought Duncan would mind. Twenty five years after his death, she could have

another lover. No, the problem was the pain of separation she'd felt when

Duncan died; she didn't have the courage to go through that again. "You all

die, Fee. You die and you leave me alone." I thought she'd jump the broom

sooner or later, but in her own good time. Meanwhile, I told her about other

games she could play with David that didn't involve the full sex thing. To

everyone else, she's the Guardian of Humanity, but to me, she's still my

daughter Wendy, going through the growing-up process, and totally baffled by

how human beings work.



And even when she wasn't here, I knew she was keeping an eye on me. She was

the Guardian of Humanity, but she was also my own personal Guardian Angel.

There's a lot of comfort in knowing that there's someone who cares, watching

over you. Once, I slipped as I got out of the bath. My feet just went out from

under me, and as I fell, I thought, I'll bang my head on the side, I could

drown, or bleed to death. Or I might just break my hip when I land. At my age,

your bones are fragile, and don't mend well. A broken bone would put me out of

action, indefinitely. And I don't want to be on the other side of the

nurse-patient relationship, thank you.



Wendy caught me before I landed. She might have been the other side of the

planet, I don't know, but she saw me fall, and got to me a fraction of a

second before I hit the bath. She helped me out of the tub, got me safely

sitting in a chair with my towel and bathrobe, gave me a very quick kiss and a

hug, and left. I think she was with me for about three seconds. I guessed

she'd just left something hanging in midair halfway around the planet, and had

to get back to it, to catch it before it hit the ground. Yes - someone who

loves you is a lot of comfort.



She turned up with David, they walked into the ward I was working in. "Fee,"

she said, and suddenly she was all around me, all over me. Until you've been

hugged by Wendy, you don't know what the word means. She sort of surrounds

you, her arms and her legs too, because she's hovering while she does it, and

then her cape comes and wraps itself around the two of you, and maybe she

sprouts those great wings of hers too, and you're covered in feathers. At my

age, I'm probably a bit too old for sex, and certainly the offers dried up a

while back, but this is almost as good. Or maybe my memory isn't accurate.



David kissed me too, and then he said, "Fee, we have a problem, can we talk to

you about it?" "Of course," I said, thinking that it was the sex thing again.

But it wasn't.



I led them to the Nurses Common Room, it's a place we can go to get away from

the patients, who are dear sweet people, but sometimes you just want to

scream, and then you know it's time to go to the NCR for a coffee and a

biscuit while you calm down.



And then David explained the problem. "Sounds like Alzheimers," I said. "But

..." said David. "Yes, I know, it can't be, she isn't human. But we don't know

how Alzheimers works anyway, so that doesn't really help. Wendy, what do you

think?" I looked at her. She was biting her lower lip and trying to look

brave. I almost laughed, she does this emulation so well! But I didn't,

because the fact that she was trying to look like that, meant that it was

representing how she felt. Scared, but brave. "I don't know what I'll have

forgotten by tomorrow. Fee - I'm scared. And I don't know what to do."



Scary stuff. This got to the root of identity and self-consciousness. "I can't

really help you much," I said, "except that when I found I was starting to

lose track of things, I developed a habit of writing things down, so that when

I wake up in the morning, I can look at my to-do list, which tells me what I'm

in the middle of." Wendy nodded. "Yes, I've started doing that, using David's

computer."



We looked at each other. One of the things every nurse learns quite quickly,

is that sometimes there's nothing you can do, except try to make the patient

comfortable. Wendy shook her head. "I'm not giving up on this, Fee. There has

to be an answer. Has to be!" Well, there doesn't have to be, but it's a good

attitude to have, because if there is an answer, it's well worth searching

for.



Wendy brought me another cup of tea, and took the biscuits away from David,

who had been pigging out on them. She knelt down beside me, and put her head

in my lap, and I stroked her hair. "You know," I said to her, "you granted me

my wish." "What wish?" asked David. "To get the world out of the Great

Depression," I replied. "I didn't really think you could do it, but you did. I

saw your speeches, Wendy, and you looked so magnificent, I was so proud of

you. You looked like an angel from heaven, you know?" "That was the general

idea," said David. "Well," I continued, "if you could do that, then you can

lick this problem too."



She looked up at me. "You think so?" "Wendy, I've known you for fifty years,

and I know this - when you want something, there's nothing that can stand in

your way."



We all sat there quietly for a while. But when you're my age, and you sit

quietly, you begin to fall asleep. I think Wendy noticed this, and moved

slightly, just enough to keep me awake. Then David spoke. "Fee, there's

something that I want to ask you." "Ask on." "Um. Not with her there." I

smiled. "Wendy, go to the children's ward, play with the children there. And

don't listen to us while we talk."



Wendy flew obediently out of the door, there is nothing more likely to get her

interest than playing with children. "So, are you bonking her yet?" I asked

David, assuming that this was what he wanted to talk about. He blushed at my

directness, and sighed. I didn't need any more answer than that. "Have you

tried ..." I asked. "Yes," he said. "We play 'Red riding hood and the wolf',

and we play tickle-wrestling, and we play ..." "OK, I get the idea. But you

don't shoot the moon." "We don't shoot the moon. And I asked her about this, I

asked how come, and she gave me five reasons, of which the first four I can

deal with, but the fifth, she said she's too young. Fee, she's fifty. Too

young?" "Dog years," I said. "What?" "Dog years. You multiply by seven. When a

dog is five years old that's like a 35 year old man." "I'm not a dog, and she

isn't either." "Don't be so obtuse, David. The People live several billion

years, we live seventy, so you need to multiply by a billion or so." "A

hundred million." "Don't quibble."



"So in dog years, she's, um." "Very young, David." "But she's a fully mature

adult." "I doubt it. What you mean, is she's more powerful and smarter than

any human. But neither you nor I know what the People are like when they're

fully grown. She's just a baby." "You can't know that." "Oh, but I can. She

plays like a baby with other babies, you included, she loves and trusts people

blindly like a baby does, and dammit, man, she just told you in so many words.

She's too young. What did you think she meant?"



"But she did it with Duncan. Duncan was her lover." "Duncan was her Wielder,

that's not quite the same thing. I don't think we have anything equivalent in

our relationships, but it seems to me that Duncan was a combination of father,

advisor, friend and lover, with the emphasis in that order. Look, I don't

pretend to understand that particular relationship, but I do know this. Wendy

told you she's not ready for that sort of relationship with you, so back off.

You are not going to be able to make her do anything that she doesn't want to

do, and I'd strongly recommend that you shouldn't even try."



He looked depressed. "I love her," he said.



"You and about a billion other men. But she loves you too, so don't feel too

bad." "If she loves me, she'll ... " "Don't try that, it's called emotional

blackmail." "Yes, I know." "David, count your blessings. She loves you, she

lives with you, she cooks for you, she sleeps with you, she flies with you,

she cuddles you. There's a billion men would trade their balls for what you

have. OK?"



He nodded. "So what should I do?"



"Just go on loving her, what else? And bust a gut trying to lick this problem,

it's the worst thing that can happen to anyone, she stands to lose not merely

everything she has, but everything she is."



He sighed. "I wonder what they're like when they're grown up," he said.

"David, we don't even know what she's really like now, all we know is what she

shows us." "I do know this; she's gentle, and kind, and loving," he said. I

made a guess. "I would think that a grown-up Wendy would be just as gentle and

kind, but she'd be a fireball of love. And she'd be better at using her power,

there's probably things she'll be able to do that not even she knows about

yet. Think about how one of our children cannot possibly imagine what they'll

be able to do when they're adults." "She told me once that she could blow out

a star the way I'd blow out a candle. She calls them fireballs. It's hard to

imagine anything more powerful than that." "David, I just told you. Not even

she can imagine what she'll be able to do, and she has a head start on us. Why

do you think you'd be able to guess? And anyway, I don't think it matters. She

can do pretty much anything she wants to be able to do right now." "Except

maintain her memory." "Yes. Except that. And you better start trying to fix

that, from what you've said, you don't have very long."



"But I can't think of anything that's likely to help," he wailed. "Right. So,

now you have to explore a lot of things that are unlikely to help. She's very

quick, when she wants to move fast she can. Very fast. But you've got to help

her with ideas, even daft ideas are better than just sitting waiting for the

axe to fall."



He nodded.



"David." He looked up. "David, I don't want to outlive my daughter."