Halo: First Strike by Eric S. Nylund Page B
Authors: Eric S. Nylund
Tags: Fiction, General, Science-Fiction, adventure, Action & Adventure, Science Fiction - General, Fiction - Science Fiction, Space Opera, Science Fiction & Fantasy, Science Fiction - Adventure, Space warfare, Human-alien encounters, Games, Outer Space, Imaginary wars and battles, computer games, Video & Electronic, Halo (Game)
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them permanently in their minds by
constant practice and review so that at last the fictive spaces
become 'as if real, and can never be erased.'
Jonathan D. Spence, The Memory Palace of Matteo Ricci
12. Burn-In
A frozen white landscape that slowly faded into spring, snow
melting to show barren limbs, then the cherry trees leafing,
budding, floweringdelicate pink blossoms hanging motionless,
each leaf on the tree and blade of grass beneath it turning real,
utterly convincing
And Diana Heywood called out, a long wavering "Ahhhh," high-
pitched, filled with pain; and again, "Ahhhh," the sounds forced
out of her
"Shutdown," she heard Charley Hughes say.
>From the screen at the end of the room, the Aleph simulacrum
said, "Doctor Heywood, we can go no further with you conscious."
"All right," she said. "If you must." She'd pushed them to
take her as far as they could without putting her under; she hated
general anesthetic, despised being a passive animal under
treatment.
Once more she was lying face-down on the examination table
where Charley had removed the skin over her sockets. Neural
connecting cables trailed from the back of her neck to the
underside of the table.
Lizzie Jordan stood over her and stroked her cheek for a
moment. Gonzales stood on the other side of the table, his eyes
still turned to the holostage above her, where the scene that had
driven her interface into overload still showed in hologrammatic
perfection. Toshi Ito stood at the head of the table, a hand
resting on her shoulder. Eric Chow and Charley stood in front of
the monitor console, discussing in low voices the last run of
percept transforms.
Gonzales said, "Are you okay?"
"I'll be all right," she said. She turned her head to look
at him and smiled, but she could feel the tight muscles in her
face and knew her smile would look ghastly.
Toshi rested his hand on her shoulder. "Who wants to know?"
he said, and she laughed. Gonzales looked confused.
Charley rubbed his hands through his hair, making it even
spikier than usual. "I'll prep her," he said. He looked at
Gonzales, Toshi, and Lizzie. "Required personnel only," he said.
"Right," Gonzales said. He leaned over and took Diana's hand
for a moment and said, "Good luck."
Lizzie kissed Diana on the cheek.
Diana said, "Let Toshi stay."
"Sure," Charley said.
Lizzie said, "Come on, Gonzales."
#
As Charley fed anesthetic into her iv drip, Diana felt as if
she were suffocating, then a strong metallic smell welled up
inside her. She was aware of every tube and fitting stuck into
herfrom the iv drip to the vaginal catheter and nasopharyngeal
tubeand they all were horrible, pointless violations of her body
nothing fit right, how long could this go on?
A tune played.
The melody was simple and repetitious, moderately fast with
light syncopation, and sounded tinny, as if it came from a child's
music box. Then came the song's bridge, and as the notes played,
she remembered them; the primary melody returned, and now it was
familiar as well, and she hummed with it, thinking of herself as a
small girl hearing the song from her great-great-grandmother,
whose face suddenly appeared, younger than Diana usually
remembered her, impossibly alive in front of her, then spun into
darkness.
Shards of memory:
Her mother's arms wrapping her tightly, Diana sobbing
Her father holding a fish to sunlight, its silver body
glistening, rainbow-struck
A girl in a pink, mud-clotted dress yelling angrily at her
A small boy with his pants pulled down to show his penis
On they came, a cast of characters drawn from her oldest
memories, of family long dead and childhood friends long forgotten
or seldom recollected each fragment passing too quickly to
identify and mark, leaving behind only the strong affect of
constant practice and review so that at last the fictive spaces
become 'as if real, and can never be erased.'
Jonathan D. Spence, The Memory Palace of Matteo Ricci
12. Burn-In
A frozen white landscape that slowly faded into spring, snow
melting to show barren limbs, then the cherry trees leafing,
budding, floweringdelicate pink blossoms hanging motionless,
each leaf on the tree and blade of grass beneath it turning real,
utterly convincing
And Diana Heywood called out, a long wavering "Ahhhh," high-
pitched, filled with pain; and again, "Ahhhh," the sounds forced
out of her
"Shutdown," she heard Charley Hughes say.
>From the screen at the end of the room, the Aleph simulacrum
said, "Doctor Heywood, we can go no further with you conscious."
"All right," she said. "If you must." She'd pushed them to
take her as far as they could without putting her under; she hated
general anesthetic, despised being a passive animal under
treatment.
Once more she was lying face-down on the examination table
where Charley had removed the skin over her sockets. Neural
connecting cables trailed from the back of her neck to the
underside of the table.
Lizzie Jordan stood over her and stroked her cheek for a
moment. Gonzales stood on the other side of the table, his eyes
still turned to the holostage above her, where the scene that had
driven her interface into overload still showed in hologrammatic
perfection. Toshi Ito stood at the head of the table, a hand
resting on her shoulder. Eric Chow and Charley stood in front of
the monitor console, discussing in low voices the last run of
percept transforms.
Gonzales said, "Are you okay?"
"I'll be all right," she said. She turned her head to look
at him and smiled, but she could feel the tight muscles in her
face and knew her smile would look ghastly.
Toshi rested his hand on her shoulder. "Who wants to know?"
he said, and she laughed. Gonzales looked confused.
Charley rubbed his hands through his hair, making it even
spikier than usual. "I'll prep her," he said. He looked at
Gonzales, Toshi, and Lizzie. "Required personnel only," he said.
"Right," Gonzales said. He leaned over and took Diana's hand
for a moment and said, "Good luck."
Lizzie kissed Diana on the cheek.
Diana said, "Let Toshi stay."
"Sure," Charley said.
Lizzie said, "Come on, Gonzales."
#
As Charley fed anesthetic into her iv drip, Diana felt as if
she were suffocating, then a strong metallic smell welled up
inside her. She was aware of every tube and fitting stuck into
herfrom the iv drip to the vaginal catheter and nasopharyngeal
tubeand they all were horrible, pointless violations of her body
nothing fit right, how long could this go on?
A tune played.
The melody was simple and repetitious, moderately fast with
light syncopation, and sounded tinny, as if it came from a child's
music box. Then came the song's bridge, and as the notes played,
she remembered them; the primary melody returned, and now it was
familiar as well, and she hummed with it, thinking of herself as a
small girl hearing the song from her great-great-grandmother,
whose face suddenly appeared, younger than Diana usually
remembered her, impossibly alive in front of her, then spun into
darkness.
Shards of memory:
Her mother's arms wrapping her tightly, Diana sobbing
Her father holding a fish to sunlight, its silver body
glistening, rainbow-struck
A girl in a pink, mud-clotted dress yelling angrily at her
A small boy with his pants pulled down to show his penis
On they came, a cast of characters drawn from her oldest
memories, of family long dead and childhood friends long forgotten
or seldom recollected each fragment passing too quickly to
identify and mark, leaving behind only the strong affect of
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