largely-automated Institute. Hopefully, his more delicate adjustments tonight would prevent her asking again why she was here, or why he had adopted her. For a moment, he recalled that first occasion and her desperate longing.
His mind shied away from the remembered up-welling of warmth and hunger that had flooded out. Even the memory alone threatened to undermine his resolve. He would need to watch himself. For an instant he considered making defensive adjustmentsto his own emotional state, before recoiling in horror at the enormous potential for disaster. That route would be not a slippery slope, but frictionless.
He put the unnerving idea aside with a shudder. He returned to the subject of his ward and her hunger for love….
Certainly that neediness would help reinforce his own work. And given what he'd seen of her nature, if she showed no further curiosity about her adoption it would only be the result of his latest alterations to her memories. Some of the initial “adjustments” he had made under the very nose of the nun in her office had not lasted that first day. Although clearly, from her severe response to them on that occasion, and each time since, he needed to proceed much more cautiously. Even tonight, she had once again tired rapidly.
So. She was now his to mold as he saw fit, to create a key to probe the nature of magic, and to test his own theories.
The question was, into what should he mold her?
He remembered her hunting of his imaginary creature on the first day: how very gracefully she had moved as she stalked across the lawn, the way she had so quickly noticed the unnatural movements around her; how thoroughly she had interpreted those movements. An idea slowly crystallized. Perhaps not a warrior, but… a Huntress?
Bonsai , he thought. So many creative processes cannot be hurried without thereby destroying the creation. Instead, just a little pressure, often. Constant, gentle shaping.
He frowned. He had planned to investigate up to six Archetypes; testing his theory by unlocking the potential within each subject, forcing each to Unfold. Yet now it seemed the process would take far longer than he had imagined. He ran one hand through his hair – once thick and dark, now starting to gray. The frown deepened. This would likely take years.
Should he go directly for the grand experiment and create a new Archetype? If he did, he should pick something compatible with her personality. The closer the match, the less pressure needed, and the less chance of breaking her. The less chance of pruning off an unwanted aspect of her psyche that might prove to be a critical amputation.
Equally significantly, it might be wise to draw on those parts of the collective unconscious tied to Native American culture.
His mind drifted. Odd that her ethnic background had not been recorded in her files, that he had only learned of it by scanning the Mother Superior's mind. He considered what little he knew of Native American mythology, and the “Sky Corn Community.” He had discovered they were more a hippie commune who'd adopted Native American culture than a genuine tribe; they made money from a general expertise in zero-gravity technologies. He had found no information about the girl's parents, however.
In the end, he decided to trust his own insights. Sara seemed wild, energetic, willful. He pictured films he had seen of primitive peoples, placed her into the scenes he imagined.
Yes , he decided. Yes, a Huntress.
Chapter 6
Sara woke quite early the next morning, puzzled about where she was. Why was it so quiet? Where were the other… the thought slipped away as she recognized her new room – which she had all to herself!
In her bathroom, she eyed the secret trap door high up in the ceiling. She cleaned her teeth, wondering if the desk from her other room would fit through the door? Or maybe she could stack the chairs on top of
His mind shied away from the remembered up-welling of warmth and hunger that had flooded out. Even the memory alone threatened to undermine his resolve. He would need to watch himself. For an instant he considered making defensive adjustmentsto his own emotional state, before recoiling in horror at the enormous potential for disaster. That route would be not a slippery slope, but frictionless.
He put the unnerving idea aside with a shudder. He returned to the subject of his ward and her hunger for love….
Certainly that neediness would help reinforce his own work. And given what he'd seen of her nature, if she showed no further curiosity about her adoption it would only be the result of his latest alterations to her memories. Some of the initial “adjustments” he had made under the very nose of the nun in her office had not lasted that first day. Although clearly, from her severe response to them on that occasion, and each time since, he needed to proceed much more cautiously. Even tonight, she had once again tired rapidly.
So. She was now his to mold as he saw fit, to create a key to probe the nature of magic, and to test his own theories.
The question was, into what should he mold her?
He remembered her hunting of his imaginary creature on the first day: how very gracefully she had moved as she stalked across the lawn, the way she had so quickly noticed the unnatural movements around her; how thoroughly she had interpreted those movements. An idea slowly crystallized. Perhaps not a warrior, but… a Huntress?
Bonsai , he thought. So many creative processes cannot be hurried without thereby destroying the creation. Instead, just a little pressure, often. Constant, gentle shaping.
He frowned. He had planned to investigate up to six Archetypes; testing his theory by unlocking the potential within each subject, forcing each to Unfold. Yet now it seemed the process would take far longer than he had imagined. He ran one hand through his hair – once thick and dark, now starting to gray. The frown deepened. This would likely take years.
Should he go directly for the grand experiment and create a new Archetype? If he did, he should pick something compatible with her personality. The closer the match, the less pressure needed, and the less chance of breaking her. The less chance of pruning off an unwanted aspect of her psyche that might prove to be a critical amputation.
Equally significantly, it might be wise to draw on those parts of the collective unconscious tied to Native American culture.
His mind drifted. Odd that her ethnic background had not been recorded in her files, that he had only learned of it by scanning the Mother Superior's mind. He considered what little he knew of Native American mythology, and the “Sky Corn Community.” He had discovered they were more a hippie commune who'd adopted Native American culture than a genuine tribe; they made money from a general expertise in zero-gravity technologies. He had found no information about the girl's parents, however.
In the end, he decided to trust his own insights. Sara seemed wild, energetic, willful. He pictured films he had seen of primitive peoples, placed her into the scenes he imagined.
Yes , he decided. Yes, a Huntress.
Chapter 6
Sara woke quite early the next morning, puzzled about where she was. Why was it so quiet? Where were the other… the thought slipped away as she recognized her new room – which she had all to herself!
In her bathroom, she eyed the secret trap door high up in the ceiling. She cleaned her teeth, wondering if the desk from her other room would fit through the door? Or maybe she could stack the chairs on top of
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