An extract from the work this week, from Folio 55: 4659, currently at 39% complete.
“Molly,” says Oracle, the only voice allowed: it has been agreed, “can you hear me?”
For a long moment there is nothing. Cynical leanings begin to snigger: a regression; hypnosis; isn’t that the pseudoscience of the fairground? Then the hairs rise all over my body, a hedgehog in mortal danger.
“Yes” a voice lifts up from Molly’s lips. It is not her. Well, it is her but posh Molly, not my Molly. Calm, considered, controlled: it sports the timbre and prosody of a learned teacher. Is this the real Molly, the one below all the hormones and neuroses, the adult in waiting? Do I have such a voice, a real voice within me? I wonder what it thinks of its younger self?
“Do you know where you are?”
“I am lying on the examination bed in the sick bay of Terra Nova.” This time the moment is removed.
“Do you know why you are here?”
“My mother and father had sex; I was conceived …”
“My apologies Molly.” I can’t help but notice that Arexx is smiling; a small victory. “Let me rephrase the question. Do you know why you are lying on the examination bed in the sick bay of Terra Nova?”
“You wish to ask me questions relating to certain events and believe that my consciousness does not have access to those answers.”
“Is that true?”
“Yes.” Everyone in the room shifts at that revelation.
“Do you have access to those answers?”
“I have access to a set of answers. Whether they are the answers you seek is for you to decide.”
My turn to smile: not just a learned teacher but a cantankerous one as well.
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