His eyes unfocused for a split second; no doubt he was visualizing the icons that would bring up her psych file. She watched as his eyes tracked a few lines of unseen text, after which he nodded and sat back down behind his desk. She took a moment to look around the office. It was a large room, simply but tastefully decorated in muted tones of blue and amber, and the art on the walls was appealing but aesthetically unchallenging. Clearly whoever designed it had wanted people to focus on conversation rather than décor. In seeming opposition to that intent, however, one whole side wall was transparent, a vast window looking out upon the heart of the city. The view was impressive, but she hadn’t come here to admire the scenery. She forced her attention back to Cyprus.
He was watching her, of course. Nantana were always watching you. He waved her toward a chair, his air of friendliness polished and perfect as he said, “Have a seat, Ruisa. Or would you prefer some refreshment first? There’s food and drink.” He indicated a side table, where several pitchers of colorful liquid and a platter of decorative snack food were on display. She shook her head and sat, wary of his genial manner. This wasn’t the kind of reception she’d expected, to be sure. You can spend an E-month in detention, the judge had told her, or meet with a lifestyle counselor and have that sentence reduced to three days. “I’m good.” Even to her that sounded curt, so she added, “Thanks.”
STRESS INDEX RISING, her wellseeker warned her, scrolling the message in bright letters across her field of vision. ACTION?
NO, she visualized stubbornly. She knew that the wellseeker could release enough sedative into her bloodstream to dull her into a stupor, but what was the point? This guy knew who she was. More important, he knew what she was. Smiling at him like a drugged idiot wasn’t going to make this meeting go any better.
He studied her for a moment in silence, then said, “You know why you’re here.”
She shrugged stiffly. “I crashed a singler.”
“Someone else’s singler.”
“Yeah.”
“Which you stole.”
She couldn’t stop a smile from appearing. “Sorry about that.”
His eyes narrowed. “This isn’t a joke, Ruisa. You’re in a lot of trouble.”
The smile faded. She nodded solemnly. Three nights in a detention facility had blunted the edge of her usual defiance by a bit. But only a bit.
“This isn’t the first time one of your little adventures has ended in disaster, is it? But this time people got hurt. There was major property damage.”
“I really am sorry,” she said, this time with a hint of genuine regret in her voice.
“You can’t go on like this. You know that.”
A muscle along her jaw tightened. She said nothing.
“I’m here to help you find a better way. One that won’t put other people at risk.” He paused meaningfully. “Or you.”
“Meds, you mean.” She said it between gritted teeth.
“That’s one option.”
“Tried them. Not my thing. Thanks so much for the offer, though.” She’d greeted adulthood by trying out all the drugs that could alter her neural patterns, making her brain function more like what the Terrans had once called “normal.” The law required she do that much, so that she would fully understand her medical options. Great. Message received. Now she knew what kinds of adjustments were possible, and, like many Guerans, she’d chosen to return to her natural state, rather than live in a state of perpetual falsehood. It was other people who had issue with her Variation.
“You know that drug therapy can be fine-tuned,” he said. “It need have no more effect than you want.”
“I tried it,” she said harshly. “And yeah, the meds shut down all the cravings that were getting me into trouble. No more hunger for novelty. No more aching for the kind of rush that you only get when you risk something real. No more feeling like the mundane, predictable world is smothering you, and you need to escape it at any cost. The only problem is, those cravings are part of me. Why should I deny my nature? Aren’t our mental differences supposed to be strengths, rather than weaknesses? Why can’t Guera accept who I am, instead of demanding that I change?”
If she’d expected the question to fluster him, it failed. Calmly he gestured toward the window. “Look out there, Ruisa. What do you see?”
She twisted around and looked. Beyond the courthouse gardens that surrounded this building was the Gueran capital city: gleaming spires, sweeping walkways, mirrored skyscrapers that reflected the shifting clouds overhead, giving buildings the illusion of motion. It was beautiful and impressive, and on another day she might have appreciated the view, but she couldn’t see how it was remotely relevant to her situation. “A city,” she said, turning back to him.
“Yes. A city.” He paused. “Think about what it took to build that city, Ruisa. Think about what it takes to keep it functioning, on a planet where no two people view reality the same way. Think of the monumental effort we must expend as a society to achieve the kind of stability that makes great cities possible, when every member of our population is alien in mindset to every other.”
She stiffened slightly. “So . . . I’m a threat to Guera’s stability. Is that your point?”
The brief flash of frustration she saw in his eyes was perversely pleasing. “My point is that society must have rules. Gueran society more than any other, given the challenges we have to deal with on a daily basis. Else there will be chaos.”
Her cheek twitched nervously. Where the hell was this conversation headed? “Yeah, that’s me. Ruisa Tours, Mistress of Chaos.”
STRESS LEVEL YELLOWZONED, her wellseeker warned. ACTION?
SHUT UP, she growled mentally.
He sighed. “This is the third time you’ve been picked up on charges of reckless public endangerment. Each incident has been more extreme than the last. If you don’t get your hunger for stimulation under control, it’s going to drive you to an early grave. And maybe others with you. You know that can’t be allowed. Your right to self-expression ends when it threatens the welfare of others.”
“So that’s it, then.” She folded her arms tightly across her chest. “You’re going to force me to medicate. That’s why I’m here now, right? So you can tell me that.” She snorted. “So much for personal autonomy.”
“No one’s going to force you to do anything, other than make a necessary decision about your future. You’re legally an adult now, so that choice is due anyway.” He leaned forward slightly. “Ru, do you want to be part of Gueran society? If so, then you need to accept the responsibility that comes with it. Or would you rather go your own way, free from all our rules and restrictions? That’s a legitimate choice. Guera will support you in it. Just not here.”