Ice Phoenix

“Is she going to be okay?”

“She was dead for six minutes, sir. We can’t be sure.”

“About what exactly?”

“Cerebral hypoxia. Lack of oxygen to the brain. In humans, total deprivation of oxygen to the brain from anywhere between four and six minutes will result in irreversible brain damage.”

“When will you know?”

“We’ll know for sure once she wakes up.”

“And what if she is ... brain damaged? Can’t we re-grow her cells?”

Pause.

“We could, but she may not be the same person again. Her memories could be lost. Also ...”

“Also?”

“Brain cell recovery in human intervention is not covered under the United World of the In-Between Medical Convention Act.”

“What? You’ve got to be kidding me! Didn’t they, like, abduct several hundred humans from earth just to perform experiments on them?”

Pause.

“Those were the Empitithians, sir. Empitithia is not part of UWIB and as I and many other people recall, they were punished severely by the UWIB Federation Council. UWIB destroyed all the gates leading in to and out of their world.”

“When did that happen?”

“Sir, aren’t you a member of the UWIB Federation Council?”

“I am ... umm, I see your point.”

Two months later

Baneyon walked quietly across the floor of his apartment, past a small fountain in the centre of his living room. It was minimally furnished, with two large reclining chairs, a white table and some plants. Not many of his visitors required furniture.

He paused when he reached the door to the next room, which had been deliberately kept ajar. Unable to sense any movement inside, he sighed and pushed it all the way open.

“Terrana?”

No response. She was curled up on the window sill, staring out into the city beyond. She may have been focused in that direction, but Baneyon knew she saw nothing. She had seen nothing, said nothing and had made no effort to live since the day she had woken up.

No brain damage. Even the doctors had been amazed. Motor functions intact. Memories intact. And that had been the problem. She had remembered everything. And she had noticed them — how different they were. Baneyon flinched, recalling the day she had woken up, afraid and in pain. How she had to relive the fire as he gently informed her of her family’s passing. But that hadn’t been the most difficult part. Explaining to her where she was and who they were had been much more difficult. The screaming, the accusations, the rage, all followed by sedation. It had continued like that for weeks.

Give her time, Baneyon. She will eventually come to accept it.

Why can’t we just erase her memories, Degra? She would accept us then.

She’s the only human to have been brought to UWIB, where she will live out the rest of her life. Erasing her memories would be erasing her.

Baneyon was forced to agree. Erasing her memories meant erasing everything human about her. And as the only human in UWIB, that would have been considered forced assimilation — a crime.

It takes time to grieve, Baneyon. She is just a child.

Her entire body was covered in red and green pli-gel bandages, which bubbled gently on her skin. Red worked on renewing both skin cells and flesh. Green removed the dead tissue. Her head was shaved, her hair replaced by bandages. Because of the severity of her burns, she would have to wear the bandage suit until her skin regenerated completely.

Baneyon didn’t attempt to hide his presence as he walked over. With his towering frame and long white hair, he could not be missed. His gata, a most popular form of clothing for Pophusian men, swished gently against his thighs, stopping just short of the knees. A dark, loose fitting vest worn over a stretchy T-shirt completed the outfit.

“Lunch is ready,” he said, kneeling next to her. It was their daily routine. He hoped she would soon opt to feed herself so that he would not have to insert the feeding tubes or force feed her with pills.

“This time it’s really good. I roasted a kantakry bug fish with caramelised root vegetables. You would like it.”

Of course, he had no idea whether she would like it. But it was the closest thing to Earth food, and he had faith that she would eat something on her own eventually.

No response. Baneyon sighed, preparing to sit down with her for the next five minutes while he taught her something new about Pophusia. It didn’t hurt to educate her when he could. There was the slightest possibility that she was listening to him.

“Earth, your planet, is in Sector Thirteen, you know. Sector Thirteen isn’t part of the United Worlds of the In-Between—”

“Why is it I can understand you?” she whispered.

Baneyon nearly fell over. It was the first time she had asked him anything. She was staring at him with her one good eye. The other was behind the bandage.

“You have a language chip implanted in the Wernicke area of your brain. It helps you to analyse and put together sentences in four of the major languages spoken in UWIB.”

“So, right now the chip is making me speak in your language?”

That was the thing; it wasn’t — another reason why she had to be brought over. “You are speaking Kalaxtian without any help. You always could.”

She looked confused, as she should have.

“That night when you dreamt you were in the school speaking with Master Drummik, you were speaking Kalaxtian. We don’t know how it is possible either, but your brain is able to process the language as if it was your native tongue.”

She didn’t say anything for a while. Baneyon wondered what thoughts rushed through her head as she processed this strange new world. He wished she would ask him more questions; he wanted her to cry like she had done that one time — it had been a relief to watch her unburden her pain.

“The food ...” she said slowly, “smells nice.”