Diana's Writing Blog

Public Transcript Of Speech Given At Mindbonding Center

407 Ferris Street, Los Angeles
0900 hours Pacific Time September 6, 2102
vr://336_67.996.mindbonding.renning.org

Hello, my name is Allison. You may recognize me from the VRnews or talk shows. My husband and I considered one of the three successfully mindbonded couples. You’ll have seen the unsuccessfully mindbonded on the news, as well. “Bonds gone bad,” is the phrase the media uses. That’s part of the reason that I’m speaking to you today.

Fortunately, Debbie and her team were able to create a small trial period, during which the nanobots can still be removed. But the removal isn’t guaranteed and there’s only a six week window of opportunity before you’re stuck with each other forever. And the stories of bonded couples that go crazy and kill each other are more than a little frightening. Believe me, I know. So I’m going to give you prospective couples an idea of what it’s like to be bonded, how we personally made the decision, and some of the advantages and problems we’ve encountered. Everything leading up to the decision we’ll announce today. So, here it goes:

Five years ago––that would be 2095––mindbonding was a brand new procedure. There were only seven couples who’d had it done. I never imagined that we’d be number eight. Back then, Debbie was only the assistant project head. Jack and I had barely been married a year. He’d just gotten a raise and a promotion to Outer Atmosphere Pilot. I was teaching 3rd grade. I stayed at home all day, VR broadcasting to my classes. But Jack’s is one of the few jobs that still requires real-time presence. I missed him terribly, but I hadn’t said anything to him because he’d just started his new position.

I did, however, mention it to my best friend Cally. She suggested mindbonding. She’s a scientific reporter for the VRTimes. She’d met Debbie in a recent interview. “It’s gonna be huge!” Callie told me. “The divorce rate is up to 82%. Nobody talks to each other anymore. This could solve everything. Couples who really love each other never have to be apart.”

I didn’t actually think we’d go through with it, but I was intrigued by the idea. I began doing research:

Mindbonding is the process of having nanobots, other than the ones given at birth, implanted into your brain. These nanobots then set themselves up along specific neural pathways and monitor the firing of the synapses. They then translate this into a message and transmit it to their counterparts in the brain of whomever you are bonded with. This, of course, is the simplified version of it.

Anyway, before I knew it I was VRconferencing with Debbie. Jack was still out of town and I hadn’t mentioned it. I probably should have. After all, he could’ve met me at Debbie’s virtual office from wherever he was at the time as easily as if he were home. But that was our problem: we never really told each other what was on our minds. I sometimes wonder how long our marriage would’ve lasted if we hadn’t mindbonded.

Debbie laid out the procedure––the actual operation, as well as the extensive testing prior to it. I was intimidated to say the least. I told Debbie I’d think about it. In truth, I decided to drop the whole idea. I put it out of my mind for the rest of the week––I tried to, at least. Unfortunately, that particular week was the VRfieldtrip to the nursery at Mercy Hospital.

It was the wrap-up to our section on human growth and reproduction. “Children,” I said, gesturing around the huge room, “this is the incubation lab.” I pointed to the black tubes that ran from floor to ceiling and looked a heck of a lot like the ones from those cheesy sci-fi movies from 2007. “These are artificial wombs. Babies grow inside of these until they are how old?”

Jimica raised her hand. “Exactly nine months.”

“Very good, Jimica.”

A little boy, Lazarus, raised his hand. “Is it true that some women carry the babies in their stomachs?”

“Uh, some mommies do that,” I answered, wondering how we’d gotten off topic so quickly.

“Doesn’t the baby die?” Jimica asked.

“No, not usually, but sometimes problems happen that can hurt or kill the mother or the baby,” I explained. “But, if you remember from section 3, that’s how all babies were born a hundred years ago.” Hah! We were back on subject now.

“Then why do they do it?” another boy, Herenith, asked.

And straight into political movements. “Some mothers feel that carrying the babies in their stomachs develops a bond between mother and child. They’re called Naturalists because they give birth the natural way.”

“Are you a Naturalist?” Herenith asked.

“Uh…” I froze. It was an innocent enough question: How did I want to have children. I had no idea. I’d always imagined that it would be a decision I made with my husband, but Jack and I had never discussed it. Well, the rest of my afternoon spiraled into a well of doubt about how well Jack and I really knew each other. Did we know each other at all? Was I living with a complete stranger? Was I trapped?

By the time Jack got home––actually home, not his usual VR visits––he found me crying on the couch, clutching the AIcatbot. Of course he, having grown up in L.A. and spent ten years in the air force, assumed that someone had hurt me in some way. “What’s happened?” he demanded, shoving the cat away and putting his arms around me. “Were you attacked? Did you call the police?”

“N-No,” I managed between sobs, “nothing like that.” I told him everything. When I finished, he was silent. I assumed he was mad. But he just kissed me on the forehead and said, “Okay, let’s look into this mindbonding thing.”

That was only the beginning. We had a few problems to overcome before we actually went through with the procedure. To make it to this stage, you’ve all experienced the psychological tests that have been politely described as grueling. But I’ll bet we’re the only ones who got a visit from the government.

See, my husband’s was an Air Force pilot in 2080 when the government was doing highly classified experiments on the soldiers. During that time, Jack did and saw a lot of classified things. He has a very high clearance. Unfortunately, I don’t. Apparently, a lot of government officials were concerned that if we were mindbonded some of those classified secrets might slip out––which is a valid concern.

We both went through a lot of questioning and even more tests. Finally, I was given enough clearance so that I wouldn’t have to be killed if I accidentally learned something.

So after two months of tests, counseling, interrogation, and all-around stress, we were mindbonded. June 26, 2102 if you want to be precise. The day everything changed. This is the part you haven’t experienced yet. Being mindbonded to another person is…well, it’s indescribable but I’ll try. First off, the rumors that you can control your partner’s brain are, sadly, not true. As far as I know—and I am sort of the expert—you can’t control someone else’s impulses. Also, you don’t know everything the other person is thinking, not all at once. It’s like when you first learn to read; at first it’s a conscious effort to form the words in your head, but pretty soon it becomes automatic.

That said, here are a few things you should accept if you choose to be bonded: don’t bother trying to lie to your partner; the more you try to hide something, the more you end up thinking about it. Give up trying to surprise your partner (see previous explanation). Also, strong emotion transmits really easily. Scared yet? I was. Especially since the second of the “Bonds gone bad” struck just days after we were bonded.

No one knows what causes some bonded couples to go insane. There are no witnesses to overhear what’s said. There’s really no way of knowing what goes on between them. When you’re bonded, you can be smiling on the outside and hurling insults at each other all the while. I think it must have something to do with the fact that you’re stuck with each other 24/7/365. No matter how much you love each other you’re going to get on each other’s nerves. A lot.

I remember one fight we had during the first week after we were released from the clinic after being bonded. We’d both just gone back to work and were working really hard to catch up. I was buried in VR science projects and Jack had been up for about 48 hours because the autopilot had shorted out. While in the Air Force, Jack was modified to only need about four hours of sleep a night, but he was definitely getting tired. On top of that, his copilot had gotten sick.

Well, when I grade projects I like to listen to music. I remember singing along to whatever song was playing when out of nowhere Jack yells, <Shut up! Jesus!> out loud, as well as across the bond.

I, being in no mood to be addressed in that manner, shot back, <Excuse me? I’ll sing whenever I darn well please.>

<You’ve been at it with that junk (expletive replaced) for six hours straight! Give it a rest!>

<Oh, you’re just crabby,> I replied.                 

Now when someone is crabby, they know it. And they hate to be told: <You’re gosh darn (expletive replaced) right I am, darling wife (e. r.).>

Well, that escalated into a name-calling match, which I won’t repeat in mixed company. We ended up not speaking—or, more precisely, not thinking—to each other for a few hours. Luckily, it’s hard to avoid someone you’re telepathically linked to. Besides, being linked, you can’t help but see their side of it too. It may have been over nothing, but it was our first big fight since the bonding. I think, ultimately, it brought us closer together and reassured us that, though we fight, we aren’t going to suddenly go crazy and kill each other.

It also led to a no swearing rule that Jack can’t go two days without breaking and even I don’t always follow.

In addition to having to adjust to a new level of closeness, you’ll also have to adjust to how other people will treat you. Let me dispel any illusions you have: friends, family, and any other people who know you’ve been bonded are going to treat you differently.

The first week back was the hardest for us. Things started when I logged onto VirtuNet and into my classroom. Instead of a noisy, bouncing class I found a room full of silent children all staring at me.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

No one said anything at first. Finally, Lazarus asked, “Can you read our minds and make us do whatever you want.”

I laughed and relayed the conversation to Jack. “No,” I answered, “I’m not psychic. I can only hear my husband’s thoughts.”

“Can he hear us?” Jimica asked.

“No,” I replied, patiently, “but I can tell him what you’re saying.” Which I had been doing all the while.

“He’s a pilot, right?” Lazarus asked.

I nodded. “He flies cargo to the space station and the moon.”

“Can you ask him what it’s like in space?” Jimica requested, sweetly.

Before I could, Lazarus jumped in: “No, ask him if it’s true that if you go out in space without a spacesuit you implode.”

I relayed both questions to Jack who nearly choked on his rehydrated coffee. <Jesus!> he exclaimed. <These are fourth graders?>

<Swearing rule,> I reminded him. <And they’re third graders.>

<Ooookay. Tell the girl that it’s really empty out here. Like being in a huge black sea with only little lights everywhere. And you explode not implode if you went out without your suit. There’s less pressure, not more, but you’d suffocate before you explode.>

<Thanks, hon.> I relayed the messages to my class. Both Jimica and Lazarus were really impressed. We spent most of the class time discussing space with Jack, who was happy for the diversion.

I only found out later that four of the kids were pulled out of my class by their parents when they heard I was bonded. And that was only the beginning of my bad day.

At four I logged out of the classroom and turned on VRVision. I’d programmed it to earmark any news about mindbonding. As I turned it on, it kicked up yet another “bond gone bad.” Jack tried to reassure me, but the best he could do was say, <It’ll never happen to us, babe. We love each other to much.> That’s his solution to everything: ‘It won’t happen ‘cause I say it won’t.’

<What if it’s got nothing to do with that? What if it’s a malfunction or something?> I demanded. Jack was silent. I decided that I needed to put this out of mind.

I needed to talk to Cally. I’d been meaning to call her for more than a week. I hadn’t seen her since the procedure. I was about to find out why.

She answered the call but looked less than thrilled to see me. “Oh, Ally…Hi.”

“Did I call at a bad time?” I asked. “You don’t have company, do you?”

“No,” she replied, fidgeting. Looking back, I can see that she was uncomfortable even then; I didn’t notice at the time.

“Speaking of company, did that cute photographer ever call?” I asked, falling into our usual gossip banter.

“Uh…” she floundered. “Yeah, we went out last Thursday.”

I started to realize that something was wrong at this point. Normally she would have been giving me an in-depth account of the evening. I’d have to fight to get a word in edgewise. Especially when she has a new boyfriend.

“Are you sure this isn’t a bad time?” I asked.

“Sorry,” she said, “I guess I’m a little distracted.”

“Oh really?” I said, grinning playfully. “Does this happen to have anything to do with this new guy?”

Cally frowned and sighed. “Listen, this really isn’t something I feel comfortable discussing with you.”

I think I paused for a full minute before managing a stunned, “What?”

“It’s just…I’m not comfortable discussing things like that with you,” she explained.

I scoffed. “Since when?” Then realization hit. “…Oh.”

Jack noticed the sudden buzz of annoyance in my mind. <What’s up?>

I filled him in out of habit. <Well, just tell her I’m not listening.>

<Sure, ‘Jack’s not listening,’> I retorted. <That’ll help.> To Cally, I said, “I can’t believe that you of all people would say something like that! It was your idea for me to get bonded in the first place! You know the facts; you spent weeks researching this.!!”

“Yeah, I know the facts, which is why I know that you can’t guarantee that when I tell you something you won’t transmit it to Jack,” she shot back.

I opened my mouth to deny it, but Jack chimed in with, <That’s not true…Whoops.>

I hung up on Cally. I was angry at her for saying those things, but I knew she was right: when you talk to one of us, you talk to both of us.

<You okay, babe?> Jack asked, sympathetically.

<Yeah,> I answered, softly.

<If it makes you feel any better, the guys promise that they’ll still talk about disgusting guy stuff with me.>

I chuckled weakly, knowing that he was trying his best to cheer me up. <Tell them ‘thanks.’>

<They say, ‘you’re welcome.’ Well, actually it was a belch but I translated.>

I gave an even weaker chuckle.

<Come on, babe, she’ll come around. If she doesn’t, then…she’s not a very good friend, is she?>

<I guess not.>

<So…how about a romantic dinner?>

<You don’t get back for another week,> I reminded him.

<No, now. You can cook something and I’ll rehydrate something. You can dim the lights and I’ll dim the lights. You’ll eat by candlelight and I’ll eat by control panel light. It’ll be great.>

It was one of the most romantic dinners we’ve ever had. We talked, we laughed, we joked. Before the evening was over, I’d completely forgotten about Cally and my other worries. That’s the best part about being bonded: you’re never alone, not really. Your partner is always there and always knows what’s going on in your life. I learned a lot in those first few weeks. I faced some of my fears: fighting, losing friends, how others would react. But there was one fear that was still with me. And nothing could prepare me for what happened next.

It was late, probably about midnight or one. Jack had been called in at the last minute to fill in for a sick pilot. I was watching VRvision when yet another “bond gone bad” came on. That made three. The four other couples had already had the nanos removed. That left us. We were the last couple and we were fast approaching the deadline to have the nanos removed.

I logged off quickly, exchanged goodnights with Jack, and got into bed. I had just closed my eyes when I heard a soft thump from the living room.

Jack picked up on my fear immediately: <What’s wrong?> he demanded.

<I heard something from the living room,> I told him. I was completely still, listening for it again.

Jack, ever the rational one, said soothingly, <It’s probably that stupid catbot trying to act catlike.>

<You’re probably right,> I said. I was trying really hard not to think what I was thinking: It’s not him. He’s thousands of miles away. But what if…No! He loves you! He’d never hurt you!

Jack hadn’t picked up on my thoughts; I’d buried them as deep as I could. But he sensed my fear. <It’s all right, babe. The house is intruder proof. You know that. It’s just the cat.>

<Yeah,> I said, taking a few breaths to calm my nerves. I laughed, nervously at my own foolishness. <Thanks, Jack.>

<That’s what I’m here for. You okay now?> he asked.

<Yeah. ‘Night.>

<’Night.>

I laughed softly and snuggled into the mattress.

That was when I saw it: the cat lying on the floor by the bed. In full recharge mode. This time the surge of adrenalin that hit Jack like a bucket of cold water. <What!? What!?> he demanded.

<The cat’s in here!> I hissed, as though whoever it was might hear my thoughts. My eyes were tearing in that reaction that I have when I’m terrified out of my wits. I had the sudden urge to bolt out of bed.

Jack, sensing what my reflexes were about to initiate, exclaimed, <No! Don’t move! Don’t turn on the lights,> Jack warned. His voice––and mind––was calm and calculating, but I could sense the fear underneath.

I jumped as the thumping sound started again, this time louder. <Jack, I hear it again.> It sounded like some huge animal was tearing around the living room. What was it? I couldn’t stand it anymore. I had to ask: <Jack, is it you?>

<What? No!>

A few tears escaped my eyes and ran down my cheek. <Are you sure?>

He probably would’ve gotten angrier if I hadn’t been so completely terrified. <Baby, I swear, I’m thousands of miles away. Besides, I could never hurt you.>

Now I had to make a decision: listen to him even though he could be psychotic or try and escape on my own and risk being killed by some intruder. <Okay,> I said. <I believe you.> He could sense that I didn’t, not fully anyway. <I’m sorry,> I said. <It’s just that I was watching the news and then there was this noise. I’m not thinking straight. Sorry.>

<I called the police,> Jack told me. <They’ll be there in about ten minutes…whoever it is, the cops’ll get ‘em. Even if it’s me in some psychotic daze. Until then, slowly get down onto the floor so that the bed hides you from the door,> Jack instructed.

I did as he said, wincing at the slight thud I made. <Okay. Now what?> I demanded. <There’s only one door and I can’t go out the window; I’m on the 19th floor!>

<Calm down, babe. Now, I want you to crawl over to the dresser. Go as slowly as you need to. Don’t make any noise.>

I didn’t bother to ask why. I crawled the few feet to the dresser on my belly. <Okay, I’m there.>

<Good. Third drawer from the bottom. Reach up slowly and open it as quietly as you can.>

As if I needed to be told to be quiet at this point! I counted three brass handles from the bottom and eased the drawer open. The slight rattle it made sliding out sounded like a SolarTrain to me. <Okay,> I said.

<Reach in. My gun should be under the left stack of pants. There’re four ammo clips under the right stack.>

<A gun!> I exclaimed. <Jack, I can’t––>

<You have to!>

I sighed mentally and reached into the drawer. Everything was where he’d said it would be. <Is it loaded?>

<No. Grab a clip.>

I did as he said. <Jack, it’s pitch black! I couldn’t load a gun in broad daylight.>

<I can.> Jack assured me.

<I wish you were here,> I said, stifling a sob.

<So do I, babe, but you’re doing great. Now, I’m gonna walk you through this. Hold the gun pointing away from you. Starting from the end pointing away, slide your hand back towards you until you feel a rough, rectangular plate.>

<Found it!> I announced.

<Good. Now, press it in, then slide it toward you.>

I did as he instructed and the small panel slid down, revealing a small number pad that glowed light blue. <Done,> I said. <There’s numbers…>

<Type this in: 7,9,3,6,2,6,7,4.>

<What are those last five?> I asked.

<6, 26, 74. Your birthday.>

I smiled in spite of myself and punched them in. I jumped as the gun beeped. <It’s making noises! Jack, he’ll hear!!>

<No he won’t. That sound means the lockdown is off. You can load it.>

<How!?>

<Pick up the clip and feel for the end with the bullets sticking out. It’ll be rounded and smooth. Stick that end into the bottom of the gun and push till it clicks.>

I stuck the clip in and pushed; no click. <Not working!!>

<Rotate it, but keep the same end up. Know what I mean?>

The rampage had stopped. Now, there was only one solitary, slow, determined set of footsteps coming towards me. I choked down an audible sob as the lights outside my bedroom door came on. The door was closed––thankfully––but I could see the glow from the cracks. <Someone’s coming! How long until the police get here?>

<Ally, it’s only been three minutes.>

The sound of the door slowly opening pushed all coherent thought from my mind. Jack received a wave of pure terror. <Load the clip!> he yelled, but I was frozen and my hands were trembling. <Do it NOW!!>

I fumbled with the clip for what seemed like an eternity and finally got it turned around and into the gun. I pushed it and heard the click.

So did the intruder. The lights came on. Another wave of terror. <Jack!>

<Press number 3, then point it at him. I’ll lock onto him and the bullets will smart target.>

I was about to try and pull my thoughts together and form an answer when I heard, “I know you’re in here. Show yourself. Now!” Was it Jack’s voice? I didn’t think so, but I couldn’t be sure. I had to see!

I stood, hiding the gun behind my back. I faced the intruder. He was a tall man with cold, blue eyes that glared at me. Not Jack’s warm brown ones. How could I have ever doubted him?  The intruder had a gun trained on me.

What happened next isn’t supposed to be possible. The nanos weren’t programmed to send images. Science hadn’t figured out how yet. The best explanation Debbie and the scientists could come up with is that our minds had gotten so used to communicating that they learned to do it without the nanos. Or maybe just how to enhance the link. That, coupled with the mass amounts of adrenalin, and our desire to be together somehow caused our link to supercharge. Whatever it was, at that moment Jack could see through my eyes:

<It’s Fredricks!> he exclaimed. <He was under my command two years back. He and his brother––>

“Well?” Fredricks said. “Where’s your husband?”

“He’s not here,” I replied. “He’s flying cargo to the space station.”

“Bull (e.d.)! He’s off this month.” He pointed the gun at me. “Where is he?”

“I’m telling the truth. Laverne got sick,” I babbled. “I didn’t want him to go––”

“Shut up!” Fredricks yelled. “You’re lying!” He lunged at me and I was too stared to move.

<Jack!>

<It’ll be okay. Say exactly what I tell you.>

Fredricks had me by the arm with the gun at my temple. Luckily he hadn’t noticed my gun.

“She’s telling the truth,” I said for Jack. “I’m not there, but you can still talk to me.”

“What?” Fredricks demanded, eyeing me in surprise. “What the heck (e.r.) are you talking about?”

“Whatever you say to her, you say to me; we’re linked.”

“You’re crazy, Lady!” Fredricks exclaimed. “I don’t know what your angel is, but it won’t work. Where is he!?”

“I know why you’re here Fredricks.”

He took a step back. “How do you know my name?”

“This is about Jimbo and what happened in the desert.”

Fredricks snarled and brought the gun to my head again.

“Put the gun down, soldier! I didn’t kill Jimbo.”

“No, but your husband did.”

“I didn’t! Jimbo’s death was no one’s fault. Not mine, not his, not yours. It was an accident, Fredricks.”

“No!” Fredricks growled. “You left him to die.”

“He died in the crash, Fredricks. If he’d been alive, I would’ve tried to bring him with.”

“No, you left him to die because you didn’t want to have to drag him along.”

“No––”

“Enough!” he yelled. “On your knees!” He pushed me down. “You killed someone I cared about, now I’m gonna even the score.”

<Jack!>

<Hit four on the gun,> he instructed. I felt along the pad for the right number.

Fredricks stepped back and aimed the gun at my forehead. “When I shoot her, will you feel it?”

I pressed the button I hoped was four and whipped the gun out. I shot once, then dove behind the bed. He never returned fire; four is heat-seeking mode. He was dead before he felt anything.

It’s a hard thing to live with, taking a life. The only consolation is that it was self-defense. We found out later that he’d synthesized Jack’s DNA to get in. He’d been ransacking the house to make it look like a robbery gone bad. He’d come there to kill someone and it would’ve been me. It would’ve been both of us if Jack had been home. I think about all the scenarios that could’ve played out that night and the only marginally acceptable one is the one that happened.

So, I hope I’ve answered some questions you had about the process. For those of you I haven’t scared off here’s some advice: be honest; don’t be afraid of what the other person will think if they know the real you; if your partner truly loves you, they’ll accept you with the flaws, even love you for them; and even if you have fights you don’t have to stop loving each other. Heck, that’s good advice for any couple.

As for whether or not you should go through with the procedure…yes, there’s danger, but there’s also the possibility for a level of love and understanding you’ve never dreamed of. I, personally, wouldn’t trade that for anything. That’s why I’m proud to announce that, as of seven o’clock this morning, Jack and I are the first successful permanently mindbonded couple. We hope that we won’t be the last. Thank you.

End transcript