Return to Sender
by Jennifer Christine
Part 8

Moving on - Phase 2

The papers announced the war in Afghanistan was reaching a conclusion but also a stalemate.
It would be many years before the government could operate without the backing of the Western Allies and Pakistan was actually going downhill and creating a lot of mayhem.

*Molly, what would happen if I destroyed all the opium crops in Afghanistan?*

*The Taliban would have no funds and collapse is the most likely scenario. Sadly a lot of population would die of starvation too. They rely on the crop for cash.*

*What if the crops failed 50% every year? So that after about 5 years, there’d be virtually none left? 100 tons crop now would be less than half a ton. It would give the farmers time to revert to food crops?*

*I think the Taliban would get desperate and either go for broke or disband. I can accomplish the downturn by genetically altering the pollen.*

*Could you also make it less potent?*

*Easily.*

*Make it so Molly. Let me know if the Taliban want to break out, I’ll do some sorting on a physical level. Seems only fair.*

I took to normal student life after a while, I was still a student and I needed to be seen as a normal person. I wanted to start making inroads into crime in my beautiful city and I wanted to see people once again unafraid to walk around after dark.
I started a zero tolerance mind swipe.
I sat one day in a bistro — one where the tables fronted the roadside. I watched the myriad people going about their daily lives and picked at random one or two to see what the average was like.
I was pleasantly surprised to see the great majority were just everyday citizens doing good things, thinking about their families, their work, and sometimes their partners!!! I felt a little pervy more than once!

Every so often I’d come up with a wild card. One was a wife beater. I could sense so much anger and immense fear. I nipped a link here and there and isolated the problem in his head. He walked on looking mesmerized for a second then smiling.

*Is it really so easy to fix some of these things Molly?*

*No Helen, it just reconnects later and carries on. I spent a lot of years before you came on the scene doing just what you did and then watching for a result. It always resurfaced, like it’s a basic flaw in the mental system or imbalance in the endocrine system.*

*What about Rock Spiders (child molesters)? Are they fixable?*

*Yes, they are, but only by a combination of mental adjustment as you did on the wife beater and realigning their sex drive.*

*How do you do that?*

*Remove their nuts.* Molly stated briefly.

*I can do one, will you do the other?*

*What a team, I think that’s admirable. I shall cut off blood supply to the testes of all the perverts you discover.*

*So what do we do with the wife beaters?* I wondered.

*Check their insurance and delete them.* came the simple reply.* They’re not good for the gene pool anyway.*

I thought about it for a moment and giggled, seemed an excellent way to ensure that the wife got repayment for disservices rendered.

“Penny for them,” the waiter smiled as he passed me, picking up the giggle.

“Oh I was just thinking of a way to serve justice and the result was amusing.” I looked at him, Greek heritage, big smile, nice body, my age.

“I see you here occasionally..” he paused, “and you always seem to be alone.” He stopped and leaned on the chair opposite me.

“I think a lot and I do it best alone.” I blushed as he stood back up looking a little discomfited. “I’m not asking you to leave, it’s just an observation.” I smiled as he leaned on the chair again.

“You have no good friend who can share your thoughts and not disturb you?” His eyes mocked me slightly. I snuck a peek into his top layer. Mmm nice.

“No, not really, I’ve grown up a bit faster than my peers and they’re struggling in my wake.” I raised an eyebrow and watched his face. It was hard to tell he was undressing me with his eyes, but his top layer suggested he was occupied doing that very thing..

“I’m willing to sit with you and say nothing if you don’t mind me watching your face, it’s an easy thing to do, and I promise not to get caught in your wake.”

“I think you might get the sack if you sat around and did nothing while you were supposed to be waiting table.”

“It is ok, the Café is mine, I work when I feel like it and it gives me an excuse to talk to beautiful women.” He smiled and his face lit up — there was no craft, he was just a nice amusing guy. “There are plenty of waiters doing nothing today, I am paying them, they can take over my difficult work.” He waved to another young man dressed as he was and made a circle with his hand and sat down. “You don’t mind?”

I smiled back, “I’m delighted.”

“Then, shall I sit here and admire the view or would you like to tell me why you watch everyone as they pass?” His smile betrayed his suspicious eyes.

“I’m assessing each person as to their fitness to live in my beautiful city. Most are nice people but some are not.”

“Is it your job to assess these people? Or do you do it as a hobby?” He was joking but had hit the nail on the head.

“It is my job. I need to understand the motivation of my society, whether it needs to be sorted or left to improve on its own.” I was joking with him but had a subtle truth to my line.

“You take on a large task. Should it be left to one so beautiful?”

“I am not beautiful, I am barely pretty. It is nice of you to be so gallant though.”

“With eyes so clear and unashamed, with a mind so clean of the impurities of the world, how can you not be beautiful?” He was laying it on thick now. I knew he wasn’t peeking, but it was uncannily correct.

“And what do you know of my mind?” I queried, knowing he knew nothing but what he had guessed from my demeanour.

“I am a student of the people myself, and I can see you are not tarnished by the mundane and the impure. I would like to know you more.”

There was no doubt that he was smooth, but it was also true that he was not a bad person. I had looked and I had seen only calm blue water and a sail boat, soft sunlight and sparkling bubbles in a cold glass.

“You shall then.” I had found someone.

I sat for a while longer as he watched me and I watched those passing and did my job.
I hadn’t the heart to delete anyone with my knight in starched white apron sat by me, but I marked one or two for Molly to deal with. They would trouble no more children and have no more either.

“Well Alberto, what time will you escort me home?”
“You know my name?” he looked shocked.

“It is written on the front of the building, perhaps you think I am blinded by your handsome face?”

“It is also written on my name badge, but it is not on my shirt. I wondered if you had read my mind.”

“Only to find out if you were a nice guy, I wouldn’t have talked with you if you weren’t.”
I teased him, though it was perhaps a dangerous game to tread so close to the truth.

“What time would you like to be home? Or perhaps I should ask whose home, yours or mine?”

“What would your wife say?” I smiled, pretending not to know he wasn’t married.

“Ah she will be mortified if I take you to my home, but she will be happy that her husband has found a friend.” He continued.

“Greek men wear a ring when they marry, dear Alberto, you have no such ring.”

“Health and safety regulations do not allow me to wear jewelry at work, so I have to remove it.”

“There is also no shadow to say you have worn one.” I pointed to his ring finger.

“Which shows how many hours I must work to keep my five children fed.” He smiled more and more with each riposte.

“I shall take you to my home then and your wife shall not be troubled by the thought of your infidelity…imaginary or not” I added quickly as I rose and gathered my things. “But I shall not pay you for my coffee, because you do not deserve payment for such dishonest work.”

Alberto signaled to the cashier and made to tear up an imaginary bill and turned to me.
“Whither maiden? Your chariot or mine?”

We walked out to the curb and I pointed to my car which was parked a few yards away. “Ah, right next to mine,” he pointed to the little red job with a rampant horse on the front.
He walked to the door of his car and opened it for me.

It was about 2 inches from the floor and I was wearing a fairly short skirt, “Follow me Alberto, I shall try not to drive too fast. One horse on the bonnet does not seem nearly enough.”

“Ah, he is just my favourite; there are 500 more hiding under the bonnet.” I giggled and slipped into the Merc, a much more suitable car for a princess. Unless you’re in a French tunnel I thought to myself..

The afternoon turned into a delightful evening and my beautiful escort serviced me ably and enthusiastically. We ordered a meal from a local hostelry which was delivered to the apartment and we ate overlooking the River and the lights of the city.

“You are not old Alberto. How did you come to be such a well heeled Barista?”

“My family, they are still in Greece, but they are not poor farmers, they are an old family with their fingers in many pies.” He answered simply. “I might ask you the same question, Helen. This is not a home to which many would become acquainted?” the inflection made it a question.

“I was given the property and a stipend by a grateful lover,” I smiled, “I do not need any Drachma though so you may relax.” He smiled with me and looked out over the water.

“You tell me you are at University and yet you do not study?” Another question.

“I am very intelligent, I will attend the lectures and read from my computer. It is enough.”

Alberto laughed and took a long quaff of the wine he held. “You are intelligent, yet you take me to your bed, I think some may argue one point or another”.

“Do not put yourself down, and do not assume to put me down. I am my own person, there is no harm in a dalliance, I am not about to fall in love. Nice as you are.” Alberto looked a little hurt and frowned. Then waggled his head and smiled.

“You are going to be a hard nut to crack, how am I to enjoy myself if I cannot dominate you?” He took another pull on his wine, put the glass down and took my hand gently. “I think I shall have to try harder to make you love me.” I could tell by the bulge in his robe that he was about to do so. We retired to the boudoir and rumpled some more sheets.

Our dalliance lasted a while and when I told Alberto I was pregnant, he smiled and gently disengaged himself from me, like a good lover should. He did not offer to pay nor did he offer to marry me. I was grateful. I had what I wanted and he had what he desired. I could not have engineered it better.

All the time I had been with Alberto I had been spending time training my mind and my skills improved. I felt quite potent and yet quite vulnerable — I still had to sleep and until or unless I engaged some heavy security which would only attract attention, I had to rely on Molly who was so far away and a concierge when I was home and my own awareness when I wasn’t. If I was in Sydney, I had some security, but I was only there in the high seasons when ‘school’ was out.

I was also now a pregnant student and the dean was not amused though why he thought he had any say in the matter I cannot imagine.

I got a note one day asking that I meet with him.

“Miss Cartwright?” He stuck out his hand in a friendly gesture that was not reflected in his eyes. I simply sat down and ignored it.

“Good afternoon Dean Squires, you asked to see me?” I went straight into it because I knew what was coming.

“Yes, quite. I asked you here today to enquire what your intentions are in relation to your education.” He was being quite openly hostile.

“And?” I raised one eyebrow, it was enough for him to understand that he was going to have to spell it out.

“Well, the heart of the matter is, you still have 2 years to go with your studies and it appears that your ‘condition’ may well interfere with your attendance to lectures in the near future.” He was being tactful at least.

“I don’t see me taking much time off Dean, “The babies are due (TWINS!!!!) in a recess, so I will be able to continue without interruption.” I smiled at him, daring him to make any mention of reputation. I didn’t have a tape recorder running, but Molly would be able to reconstruct the interview perfectly well if I wanted to pursue the matter — which I would.

“The matter is this.. Miss.. Cartwright,” he emphasized the Miss part. My eyes pinned him. He looked at me, saw I was carrying no obvious recorder — I didn’t even have a bag with me and I had a lightweight pair of shorts and a stretchy tank top over my bulge.
“The board of governors do not like the thought of a student of this university to be in your condition, it doesn’t have a good aspect for the university and sets a bad precedent and role model for other students.”

“You mention the board of governors, how do you feel about it, Dean?” I smiled at him neither shocked in the least nor feeling abashed or ashamed at my ‘condition’.

“My condition is what every woman on Earth goes through at some time in their lives and my most healthy period and best for my babies is while I am young. Would you deny my children the best chance for health?”

“No Miss Cartwright, but I think that you should consider the good of the university and retire from your studies while you are ‘incapacitated’” The Dean looked like he was trying to get unstuck from some chewing gum.

“Dean, I serve you warning, you have committed several infractions of my personal freedoms and have overstepped your mandate. Please note that I shall take this further. Much further.” I rose and walked out of the room. I said no more. The Dean sat there in a turmoil — he knew he’d overstepped the mark but did I have proof? What would happen?

I sent him a letter next day with a small cassette of our conversation, cced to the Board of Governors and the Education Authority and the press.

He resigned. I claimed damages and donated them to the women’s refuge. $50,000 dollars was gratefully received. I had decided to make an issue, and the name of Helen C started to become known.

I received a grateful response to my donation and a bit of notoriety in the University. I was allowed to continue my studies undisturbed. The press became aware of me as a champion for women’s causes, and being wealthy I came under scrutiny of other charitable organizations as a possible benefactor.

My social circle in Sydney were mostly appalled that I was pregnant. Some dropped me as a friend — some allowed that I was my own boss and some simply loved the idea of cocking-a-snook at the establishment. I was becoming notorious.

I sat on my balcony one night and felt my babies kick and I also felt something else. An untrained thought. I stroked my baby metaphorically and he relaxed.
*Molly, he kicked, and then he thought at me*

*Now you must name them.* Molly knew almost the day I got pregnant that I had one boy and one girl and told me that they were non identical and different genders . She hadn’t told me anything except that. I had no idea what the likelihood of their being able to reach me from the womb or anything.

*I didn’t expect them to be able to think so loud, so soon.* I was a bit panicked — *They may start communicating with either each other or people outside the womb that weren’t their mother.*

*No Helen, they can only communicate with you and each other, they will learn quickly not to think out loud so to speak.*

*Will I be able to hear them talk to each other or can they do it without me in the loop?*
I was worried about them making their own language or something I guess. Plotting maybe?

*That’s a paranoid thought, Helen. They’re innocent babies — not psychopathic midgets.* I could sense a grin and a chiding from Molly.

*I’m just a little afraid Molly, that’s all. I’ve never been Eve before.*

I turned off the lights, pretended to go to bed and went up to the ship.