Imagine the surface of a pond. Each small fluctuation in sensation such as a rise in anxiety, or an itch on the nose, creates a ripple on the surface of the pond. The more numerous and more intense these fluctuations are, obviously, the more turbulent the surface of the pond. This is how Magara experienced the world, she is the pond. For now, she was able to let these ripples slide gently over her and maintain her own peace of mind as she waited.
"Nice dog." Spoke her nearest comrade. His low pleasant voice confirmed her suspicion that he was a boy. She had not yet perfected the art of ‘guessing’ the gender of those around her. She was not sure that she had that power at all. She was curious enough to keep guessing, but never confident enough act on her hunch.
Magara would turn her face slightly toward his in response. He would certainly notice that though her face and body responded, her eyes did not. Those remained half closed and downcast, grey and vacant. That far-away look plus the service dog might be enough for someone to guess that Magara was completely blind. She usually wore sunglasses but she had misplaced them before leaving home.
“His name is Carl.” Her own voice was soft and breathy, but more like a sigh than a whisper.
When Carl heard his name his ears turned toward his dearest human. He tilted his head and held his breath, ready for any command Magara might give. When he realized that she was speaking to the other human, he relaxed and let his tongue roll out of his mouth.
A new presence entered the room, disciplined and regal, Commander Nunez had quite the effect upon the room. Even Carl put his nose in the air just a bit higher.
Magara heard a shuffle and ruffled sound as everyone shifted and moved slightly. She could not see what the others were doing. She stood quietly and hoped that it was not something important, or if it was, that she would be excused from participation.
There was a hiss, followed by feelings of surprise down the line. Again, Magara stood passively. It was like when she ‘watched’ movies with her family, it was more polite to simply wait, usually the dialogue revealed what was important anyhow.
Alas, it was the same even now. She listened to the commanders speech attentively, even as she disciplined another recruit. Magara was reassured by the prospect of structure and discipline, but wondered if she could meet the Commander's expectations.
Could someone like me really be a soldier?
Vita took Magara completely by surprise. To Magara, despite the mothering tone of the machine, Vita was a cold ghostly voice without a source.
Can a robot really be an officer?
When it was time to move out, Magara waited for the rest of the group to go ahead of her.
“Carl, let’s follow.” She reached into her back pocket and pulled out what looked like a white baton, with a flick of her wrist it extended to become a thin white cane.
Then the dog lead the way. Carl was a nearly-all-black-dog with small accents of light brown fur under his neck and paws. He was a nearly-pure breed Belgian Malinois, weighing in at eighty pounds, he had a triangular fox-like face, pointed triangular ears, a slender body, and a strong jaw. Though he did not wear a leash, no one would ever mistake which human belonged to this dog. He walked at a steady gait just in front of his dearest human and constantly cast an ear or an eye back to check on her. He walked very close in new places such as this, where his dearest human did not yet know her way.
She was already trying to learn, it was clear that she would be spending a lot of time here. As she walked she counted her steps. Every time she felt a change in the floor, or they used stairs, or turned a corner, she started her count again. Sometimes buildings were designed in strict geometric patterns. Some places were built like beehives and she could expect a door every ten steps, and a corridor every thirty, no matter where she started from.
When they arrived at their destination, the Bap Base, the reticence in the group melted like butter in the sun. Food and football became primary subject matters. (Carl wagged his tail as he smelled food, but kept beside Magara). Someone made a comment about ‘preferring not to go blind’, the comment was obviously made without Magara in mind, but it still made Magara uncomfortable.
She stood by the doorway trying to discern exactly what was going on. Vita’s voice seemed to move around the room too quickly, meaning the robot could move quite fast. Magara was afraid that the robot might crash into her by accident, as Magara could not feel it’s presence at all. She was uncertain about what she should do, at home or at The Home she would have been told where to sit. The relaxed atmosphere also meant slightly lowered inhibitions, and the recruits were allowing their inner feelings to surface as the dropped the militant facade. She honestly wanted to ask where her room was and leave to be alone, but she could not longer tell which presences belonged to the instructors. Besides, she certainly did not want to impose or interrupt. Or seem like she was complaining.
She decided that she did not want to ask for help either. They were supposed to be soldiers now, as the Commander had said. She did not want to appear weak like the other recruit already had. (Magara had not seen what Coraline had done to deserve her lecture, and only remembered the commanders remarks about showing weakness.)
She waited patiently by the door, perhaps Vita would invite them all into an activity, or their tour would continue to another room. She frowned a bit, and touched the sash around her head, making sure that it had not come loose. She felt a bit nauseous, her own anxiety mixing with the errant emotions in the room.
