“I look for experiences of enduring significance—foundational feelings upon which thoughts are built into convictions. These are not always easy to recover, as most such experiences are either forgotten or become distorted by the effects of conscious biases over time, and once identified, it becomes necessary to exhume them from deep in the subconscious. These experiences are ‘markers’ that can be used by the Discerminor to map out the course of a subject’s life in the form of a character ‘portrait’. One thing these ‘portraits’ indicate is that every person’s life undergoes similar cycles based upon these types of experiences, from idealism to cynicism and back in a number of steps; however, the perceived circle is actually an upward spiral, for no one returns from a complete cycle without substantial damage and growth, and even when the memories of these damaging events have been severed from the consciousness, their effects linger and shape the character of the person.”

-Dr. Gerard Mann, ‘Discermination’
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Transcription #13—Adam I

Noticing the momentary tremor that passes swiftly over Aedee’s smooth and otherwise stoic figure as she mutters “hello,” Madison produces a coat which he has brought for just such an occasion after observing her apparent discomfort at their last meeting. As he hands it to her, their eyes meet for a full second. Aedee is the first to break off, blushing and looking down, then quietly mumbling, “-uh, thanks,” but receiving no immediate response, adding with assumed disinterest, “So I decided it was pointless for us to keep meeting if I didn’t contribute at all, so here’s some stuff I worked on.”

“Nice.” Madison glances at the work, pauses and then leans in closer. “Why aren’t you called Elena like…I mean…I’m sorry that was…”

But Aedee decides to answer, perhaps in rebellion against or in denial of any feeling of shame. “I just got sick of being labeled something that I wasn’t. People would call me Elena, but to them all I am is a number. Anyway, I’d rather be called that, and at least this way it’s my choice.”

“So you did that? I mean, you renamed yourself?”

“I guess so…in a way, although if I was someone else I’d probably rather have a real name. No one wants to be labeled…to think of themselves as…”

She pauses self-consciously.

“Well, I’m impressed. You’re a real badass!” Madison shakes his head and smiles hoping to lighten the mood, but Aedee looks back without smiling as a rainbow of emotions moves subtly over her face—the shades and colors of a conflict which cannot be contrived and therefore suggests a sort of transcendence to her expression—as though her soul itself were staring through her eyes, hypnotized by the glare of the question and unconsciously clenching the microscopic muscles of her face.

The stubborn frankness of her explanation—her courage as a child and now in revealing to him her carefully hidden scar and exposing a fragility which magnifies by contrast her incredible strength of will, which he perceives, knowing that she cannot appreciate these things as he can, that no one else does, and feeling a sense of awe at the realization—penetrates his virgin heart. In that moment Aedee’s eyes seem to reflect his own deeper feelings, but on her face, so unaccustomed to such expressions of commiseration, they appear infinitely nobler, and Madison is able to see himself that way—the way she sees him in that moment—and strange to say, it is this glimpse of himself that makes him feel certain in that moment that he loves her, that he has always and will always continue to do so. Then Aedee looks away blushing, and he reluctantly lowers his gaze to her work.

“Well, let’s see what you did.” He doesn’t give it his full attention at first, being overly conscious of the significance of the previous moment. But as he reads, the character of her ideas captures him in spite of his inattention to its details, and he is amazed at her sense of style, economy of language, and above all the likeness of her tone to his idea of her, recognizing that stubborn honesty, that idiosyncrasy, which he loves.

“Wow, good job. That’s amazing. You’re really smart, did you know that?”

“Yes.”

“I’m learning all sorts of new things about you today. You’re a badass and a smartass.”

“And you’re an ass-ass.” Aedee looks at Madison with contrived sternness, but after a few seconds, she has to turn away to avoid reciprocating his self-satisfied smile.

Exiting Professor Glik’s classroom with a smile in his eyes that sporadically spills over the rest of his face, Madison holds the door for Aedee, waving to her retreating figure. “See you tomorrow!”

“See you around.”

He walks briskly and purposefully across campus, then abruptly stops, breathes in deeply and with the exhale sets free a wide smile he had for some reason been struggling to suppress. He shakes his head slowly; everything seems new to him right now, as if he hasn’t been familiar with this campus since childhood but is seeing it for the first time; the way the sweeping branches of certain trees are alternately streaming and bouncing like a girl’s long hair when she tilts her head in mock hostility; the way certain particles in the air suspend the last rays of the sun’s light as it sets, seeming to stop time for the sheer pleasure of prolonging a beautiful moment…it is all so precious.

He feels overwhelmingly at peace with the world, with all of existence, and is suddenly certain that any pain or confusion that he or someone else may face in a troubled life is worthwhile if only for the sake of moments like this.

What is it that everyone else sees that I don’t? This question has been bothering him of late; most of his friends and family disapprove of his spending time with “that clone,” despite the fact that many have expressed sympathy for her in some way and have, anyway, too great a sense of propriety to confront him directly about their concerns. But in their body language and the unnatural silences which usually accompany any mention of their growing friendship, he clearly understands that he really ought to be ashamed of it.

And when he’s honest with himself, he recognizes that he is ashamed: ashamed of his association with “that clone” and even more ashamed of this abject feeling about something which ought to be so pure, so simple. But now, fresh from this encounter with love, that shame which so frequently hovers overhead, dissuading him from talking or even thinking about the future of his relationship with Aedee, seems not only unfounded but utterly ridiculous.

They fear because they don’t understand, Madison thinks, feeling sure that he knows better and wishing he could hold onto this certainty; for later, he knows that doubt will come, residual from that of those others whose views he generally respects, those who in the past he has unquestioningly followed. What is it that they fear? What do they see that I don’t? But Madison cannot understand the fear that the idea of a human clone conjures in those other people because he does not feel it himself, and like most feelings, the understanding is inseparable from the experience.

Light, All Light

Everyone thinks they know about her
But you know that everybody’s wrong
Everybody thinks that she’s crazy
What do they know?

She’s your lady
Your star at night
She is light all light!
She’s a ghost so far from all this

How did you come to think you love her?
Everyone wants to know what’s going on
And everybody thinks that you’re crazy
But what do they know?

Why do you love her?
They don’t see it
You don’t mind
You just believe it

She’s your Aedee
Your star at night
She is light all light!
She’s a ghost so far from all this