Post by morrigan on Apr 17, 2007 12:39:44 GMT -5
I have seen the film, but this little story is going to be the product of my own personal imagination as much as possible. If anyone notices even the hint of a spoiler, let me know, and I'll move it to the locked board.
***
The dream was always the same, and he’d given up trying to analyse it now. Initially he had made some half-hearted attempts to work out what his subconscious was trying to tell him, including a session or two with Searle. They hadn’t gone well, though; he’d been withholding and Searle knew it.
“Capa, if you don’t tell me the whole truth I can only help you so much.”
He’d just shrugged, feeling ten years younger, feeling sullen, rebellious, defensive.
Just tell him. You’re not a teenager. Be honest.
But he couldn’t do it. There were too many people on this mission whose respect he was determined to earn to let on how the dream really left him feeling. Even with the promise of doctor-patient confidentiality, he couldn’t be sure. Maybe Searle would conclude the mission was too crucial to risk a scared young man who didn’t really have the training, and certainly didn’t have the experience of the rest of the crew, screwing it up. If he shared those concerns with the captain, Kaneda might decide Capa should spend the rest of the journey in isolation. Hell, all he was here for was to make sure the payload was detonated correctly; they could bring him out at the last minute, move him into position and let him carry out his appointed task…
Capa shook his head. Paranoia wasn’t going to help him convince Searle he was fine.
“It’s just – anticipation. I must be running through all the variables, trying to review the optimum detonation point.”
“Every night? For nearly a year and a half? You’re an intelligent man, Robert, surely you’ve worked all that out by now. Besides…” Searle leaned forwards and lowered his voice conspiratorially. “If that was all there was too it, wouldn’t your subconscious show you Icarus’ computer systems? Run number strings, trajectory projections? Sure it’s not expecting you to gauge the distance physically?”
Capa smiled thinly. He couldn’t think of an appropriate response, so he shrugged again and folded his arms, his body language signalling clearly to the doctor that the session was over.
And now he was half-sitting up in bed, the blanket shoved away with all the thrashing around he’d done in his sleep, his eyes forced wide open as if to prove to himself that the only light source was dim, fluorescent, artificial – safe.
I’m not just second-guessing myself, he thought. Searle’s got to be right – there is more to it than that.
***
The dream was always the same, and he’d given up trying to analyse it now. Initially he had made some half-hearted attempts to work out what his subconscious was trying to tell him, including a session or two with Searle. They hadn’t gone well, though; he’d been withholding and Searle knew it.
“Capa, if you don’t tell me the whole truth I can only help you so much.”
He’d just shrugged, feeling ten years younger, feeling sullen, rebellious, defensive.
Just tell him. You’re not a teenager. Be honest.
But he couldn’t do it. There were too many people on this mission whose respect he was determined to earn to let on how the dream really left him feeling. Even with the promise of doctor-patient confidentiality, he couldn’t be sure. Maybe Searle would conclude the mission was too crucial to risk a scared young man who didn’t really have the training, and certainly didn’t have the experience of the rest of the crew, screwing it up. If he shared those concerns with the captain, Kaneda might decide Capa should spend the rest of the journey in isolation. Hell, all he was here for was to make sure the payload was detonated correctly; they could bring him out at the last minute, move him into position and let him carry out his appointed task…
Capa shook his head. Paranoia wasn’t going to help him convince Searle he was fine.
“It’s just – anticipation. I must be running through all the variables, trying to review the optimum detonation point.”
“Every night? For nearly a year and a half? You’re an intelligent man, Robert, surely you’ve worked all that out by now. Besides…” Searle leaned forwards and lowered his voice conspiratorially. “If that was all there was too it, wouldn’t your subconscious show you Icarus’ computer systems? Run number strings, trajectory projections? Sure it’s not expecting you to gauge the distance physically?”
Capa smiled thinly. He couldn’t think of an appropriate response, so he shrugged again and folded his arms, his body language signalling clearly to the doctor that the session was over.
And now he was half-sitting up in bed, the blanket shoved away with all the thrashing around he’d done in his sleep, his eyes forced wide open as if to prove to himself that the only light source was dim, fluorescent, artificial – safe.
I’m not just second-guessing myself, he thought. Searle’s got to be right – there is more to it than that.