Semantics of Free Will

Jillian Salvius was not looking great these days. It almost seemed to Ava as if the woman had aged a year for every week since she had been gone. They found her in Mother Superion’s office, sitting in front of Mother’s desk, chatting quietly. When she turned to look at the two women as they walked into the room, her gaunt face lost what little color it had.

“Wha—what?” she whispered as she stood up and approached the two young women. “How? You should be at least fifty years old now.” She reached out and touched Ava’s cheek, as if checking to make sure the Warrior Nun was real.

Beatrice reached up and gently took Jillian’s hand in her own and turned her back toward the desk. “Why don’t you have a seat and we’ll try to explain what we think happened,” she said softly.

Ava followed and she and Bea took seats next to each other so that Jillian could see them both at once. “Jillian,” said Ava nervously, “first I just wanted to say that Michael was a good man. I’m glad that I got to know him and I’m sorry for what happened to him.” She waited for a moment but the scientist said nothing, she just continued to study Ava with a confused expression, it was unnerving. Deciding she didn’t want to prolong this any longer she began.

“I was gone for what I thought was about two weeks.” Jillian’s eyes widened.

“That’s impossible,” she whispered. “My calculations—even if they were wrong Michael aged fourteen years in half the time.”

“We think we know what happened,” input Bea, “it may not be easy to hear.”

Jillian gave a hollow laugh. “My son came back from that place as a living bomb, brainwashed into thinking that it was his destiny to suicide bomb a devil. Do you really think you can tell me anything worse than that?” She glared at Beatrice, who held her gaze steadily. Mother Superion cleared her throat.

“Go ahead and tell her, Beatrice.”

Ava watched as Bea glanced over at Mother and nodded. “Alright,” she began, “time very clearly doesn’t work the same way there as it does here. Ava was able to leave after two weeks because she chose to leave.” Jillian looked confused as she looked back and forth between the two women.

“It’s true,” stated Ava. “Once I told Reya that I had made the decision to leave she used the Halo to send me back almost immediately. I don’t know how she sent Michael back without the Halo, she didn’t tell me.”

“That’s it?” asked Jillian, skepticism dripping from her words. “You just decided and she sent you home? Just like that?”

“There is other evidence from Ava’s time there that suggests that Reya has to respect a human’s free will,” input Bea.

“What evidence?”

Mother Superion answered her this time. “You and I will discuss that further later, Dr. Salvius.”

Jillian looked briefly at the older woman and then back at Ava and Beatrice. Ava watched as the full weight of what they told her settled on her shoulders. Her expression, as haunted as it already was, became pained. Her next words were broken whispers as she stared at a spot on the floor somewhere past the two women in front of her.

“So—what you’re saying—is that Michael aged fourteen years because he chose to stay there that long?”

Ava reached out and carefully took the woman’s hand, but it was Bea who answered her.

“Michael was a young boy when he went through the portal. He—both of you—were convinced by Adriel that he was going to go through for salvation and healing. He thought it was where he belonged. It would not have been hard for Reya to convince him to stay until he was old enough to fight. You both were used by Adriel and Reya in whatever games they were playing with each other.” Her tone was sympathetic. Ava squeezed Jillian’s hand as she spoke next.

“She tried to convince me to stay too. But I had already seen what she did to Michael so I went in not trusting her.” Jillian continued staring at the floor, looking distraught. Mother Superion spoke again.

“Why don’t you two wait outside while I talk to Dr. Salvius alone?”

“Well that was awful,” said Ava as she leaned against the wall. She looked at Bea across the hallway. The sister warrior was mirroring Ava’s posture with her head against the wall and her eyes closed. Her face was troubled.

“How do you ask a favor from a woman who already gave up her son to the cause? Twice?” she asked, her voice barely a whisper.

“I don’t know,” replied Ava, slowly shaking her head back and forth, “but we’ve got the FBC and Lilith out there, wraiths still coming through, maybe Reya…” she trailed off for a moment. “Our list of people—creatures—whatever the fuck they are that we’ve pissed off keeps getting longer. I need some new tricks.”

Bea gave her a half smile and a humorless chuckle. “We can probably add the Vatican to that list if we end up having to rob them for more divinium.”

“Great, Bea.”

Before long, Mother Superion came out to inform them that Jillian had agreed to help and sent them back to their training.

A few hours later, they met Mother Superion, Camila and Jillian inside a small, seldom used room that Ava guessed was a little bigger than their bedroom back in Switzerland, though the ceiling was much higher.

“Mother Superion has updated me on the problem,” Jillian began, “and she and I have talked for a while about everything we know about the workings of the Halo. I think the best way to construct a ‘Halo-safe’ room as you’ve called it would be with a Faraday Cage.” She looked at the four women around her expectantly. Ava raised her hand.

“Um—what?”

Bea leaned over to whisper in her ear, “It’s a cage that blocks radio waves and cell phones, darling.”

Ava rolled her eyes. “Of course you would know,” she muttered.

“That’s a basic way to describe it, yes,” agreed Jillian. “Now, osmium, the metal in your vest that blocks the Halo’s signal, is incredibly rare. We couldn’t hope to get enough to block an entire room so my thought is to use divinium as well.”

This time, Ava was pleased to see, the other women seemed to be just as confused as she was.

“Why divinium?” asked Camila.

In response, Jillian addressed Ava. “Ava, do you remember the first time you came to my lab?”

“Yeah,” replied the Halo Bearer, “you hooked me up to the Arc and had me power up the Halo.”

“Right,” Jillian smiled in response. She was enjoying talking them through this project. It may have been the first time the woman had smiled in months. “From what I’ve been told, that much power should have summoned a Tarask. But I don’t think it did because the Arc absorbed it.”

“The Arc is made of divinium,” said Bea, remembering the first time she saw it. Jillian nodded.

“We’ll line the cage with as much divinium as you have left as well as what I have left from constructing the Arc. My hope is, if we do it right, that the divinium in the cage will absorb the Halo’s power. We can then divert it away, cause it to dissipate so it doesn’t attract attention. Whatever osmium we can find will fill in the gaps to block the signal.”

“How soon?” asked Ava.

“I’ll start immediately. My team should be able to have this room converted in a few days.”

“Hold!” Beatrice yelled loud enough for the four women to hear. Two days after Jillian started work on the Birdcage—Bea quickly closed her eyes and took a deep breath through her nose thinking of Ava’s name for the structure—she found herself working with Camila, Yasmine, Rosemary and Eileen on combat training. She was critiquing as the rookies went against the veteran sisters in team-based sparring.

“Eileen, you keep drifting away, stay tight with your team. Rose, you need to balance your attention between your opponent and your partner. You’re going to leave yourself open. Anything to add, Ava?”

Ava didn’t respond. She was staring up at the side of the building completely lost in thought.

“Ava?”

“Hmm?” she said as she looked distractedly back at Bea. She had been restless lately—well, more restless than normal—and Bea was having a hard time getting a read on her.

“Go again,” she said to the four nuns. “Camila, could you please take over?” She approached Ava and couldn’t keep the frustration out of her voice. “What was it this time?” she asked quietly. “Cracks in the architecture? Contemplating the color of the sky? Or were you simply counting the windows?”

“Sorry, Bea,” said the Halo Bearer, “I guess I’ve been a bit distracted today.”

“A bit? Ava you literally walked into a closed door this morning.”

“I—forgot to phase,” Ava replied, face turning red with embarrassment.

“How—nevermind, that’s exactly what I’m talking about. What is going on?”

Ava looked down at her feet as she started drawing circles in the dirt. “I’m worried about what could happen when I take the Halo out.”

“No offense, darling,” said Bea, “I have all the faith in the world in you but isn’t that a little premature?”

Ava nodded in agreement. “That too. What if this all ends up just being a big waste of time?” Bea looked at the younger woman. Her eyes were rounded as she frowned up at Bea, her worries clearly written on her face.

“Ava,” Bea responded kindly, “worst case scenario, Cat’s Cradle ends up with a room that the Warrior Nun can safely train in. We’ll just take this one step at a time and I’ll be there with you the entire way.”

“Thanks, Bea." She paused. Why do I feel like you’ve had to deal with my crazy a lot lately?”

Bea smiled and winked at her. “It’s what I do.”

“Alright Ava,” said Jillian through the speaker, “you’re going to test the room now. Whenever you’re ready, go ahead and call the Tarasks.” Ava could see her, Mother Superion and Father Vincent through the monitor up in the corner of the room that was right next to the camera that was pointed at her.

“I’d feel a lot better about this if I could have a weapon.”

“We can’t let you have your sword for the test,” said Jillian. “They’re can’t be any additional divinium in the room or it might dampen the signal.”

Mother Superion spoke to her next. “Do not worry, Ava. Remember, Beatrice and Sister Dora are right outside the door, armed and ready in case this doesn’t work.”

“Yeah I got it,” she took a deep breath. “Alrighty—let’s call one of these bastards.”

“Language, Ava.”

Ava smiled at the reprimand. She closed her eyes and the Halo glowed, brightening the space. She heard it ring for a few seconds before she cut it off and opened her eyes, looking around the room. Small bits and strands of divinium shone bright blue throughout the walls and ceiling. There was no other word for it. The room simply sparkled.

“Wow,” whispered Ava, “it’s beautiful in here.”

“Any sign of a Tarask?” asked Mother Superion.

“No,” replied Ava. “We’re safe. It’d be here by now.”

The door opened and Bea stopped short. “Wow,” she repeated. “It’s—it’s like being under water.”

“We should’ve tried this with the lights off,” said Dora behind her.

“Pretty romantic right, Bea?” Ava asked her with a grin.

“You two defile this room, Ava,” stated Mother Superion as she walked through the door, “it may be the last thing you do.”

Ava swallowed. “Yes, Mom.” Bea said nothing as she blushed.

“It is lovely,” said Mother Superion as she looked around the room as the blue lights began to fade. Ava could swear she saw the ghost of a smirk on her face.

The next two days were some of the most frustrating of Ava’s life.

This life. Not the old one in the orphanage. How many have I had now? Is it all one life since the Halo or am I counting all of those potential deaths? Did I actually die and the Halo brought me back or did it save me before I died? Does Reya’s realm count as dying?

“Ava, focus!” Bea’s sharp voice brought Ava back to the present.

Shit!

“Sorry, Bea, I’m just getting tired. I have basically just been sitting here for two days.” She had only left the Birdcage at meal times and to return to their room to sleep. Beatrice, true to her word, had stayed with her. Ava had tried everything she could think of to remove the Halo without resorting to physically cutting it out, if only because Bea had adamantly refused when she had suggested it.

“I know you’re frustrated,” Bea said, sympathy clear in her eyes and voice. “I am too.” She sighed from her place on the floor opposite Ava. “Why don’t we take a break for lunch? Then go train outside for the afternoon? Get out of this place?”

“Fly the coop, you mean?” Ava asked, grinning at her. Bea closed her eyes for a moment and whispered something to herself quietly. When she opened them she looked directly into Ava’s.

“I am not acknowledging a pun based on the stupid name that you gave this room.”

They ate lunch alone together at a table in the hallway. Ava had said she just wanted a little extra quiet time to think about the problem but Bea knew there was more to it. She had watched Ava slowly deflate more and more at every subsequent meal with the other sister warriors. Every polite inquiry into her progress, every word of encouragement, every supportive phrase; they all seemed to have had the opposite effect on the Halo Bearer. When she asked Ava about it, all the young woman would say was that she didn’t want to let everyone down.

For the first time in a long time, Bea was unsure of how to handle her partner. She settled for simply placing her hand on Ava’s across the table as they both ate their food in silence. When Ava looked up at her, Bea simply smiled and squeezed her hand. Ava smiled back and they went back to their meal.

They had finished their lunch and were about to leave the—ahem—the Birdcage when Jillian had joined them at the table.

“May I interrupt?” she asked. The woman looked better than she had a few days ago. Her face was still pale and prematurely lined and she didn’t smile easily, but the spark of discovery had returned to her eyes. Bea could see that having a project and studying the Halo had been good for her. Both Ava and Bea smiled and nodded and Bea gestured to the seat next to her at the table.

“I understand what you’re trying to accomplish,” the scientist began, “and I have been here to see that it’s not going so well. I thought I might be able to help.”

Bea looked at Ava, who stared back at her, silently asking her opinion with her eyes. Bea smiled and shrugged. “What did you have in mind?” asked Ava, turning back to the older woman.

“I’ve obviously seen everything you’ve tried; the various ways you’ve engaged the Halo to use your powers and as you know I’ve been monitoring the output data gathered by the Birdcage.” Beatrice’s shoulders dropped and she let out a quiet, exasperated sigh. Ava shot her a glance and smiled, raising her eyebrows. If Jillian noticed the brief exchange, she ignored it.

“What I haven’t been able to tell from the outside is what you’re actually trying to do. How are your various attempts going to actually remove the Halo?”

“Truthfully,” replied Ava, eying the table, “I have no idea. I’m just trying everything I can think of. Mostly trying to focus on the Halo and willing it to move while powering it up.”

“As far as we know,” supplied Bea, “there have been no other attempts in history to willingly remove the Halo from a living Warrior Nun. It’s all just guesswork”

Jillian thought for a moment. “You say you’re focusing on the Halo and trying to will it to move. I think that’s your whole problem.” Both women stared at her blankly. “When we first met, Ava, we talked about the Halo being a battery. A power supply for all of the abilities it gave you.”

“Yeah, I remember.”

“Well I haven’t seen anything to indicate otherwise. The power comes from the Halo, but the abilities come from you. The power to heal quickly comes from the Halo, but your cells are doing the healing. Your phasing ability is powered by the Halo but it’s the molecules that make up your body that are spacing out to allow you to pass through solid objects. Your levitation is your body manipulating gravity, again powered by the Halo, but the action itself is all you. Even your Halo-blast is your body directing the Halo’s power towards a certain point.” Bea rolled her eyes and shook her head at Jillian’s use of that name—It’s like I’m caught in the Twilight Zone—and Ava gave her a smug smile and winked.

“So what you’re saying,” said Bea, a moment later, “is that instead of focusing on the Halo moving itself out of her body, she should focus on her body removing the Halo.” Jillian nodded.

“Isn’t that basically the same thing?” asked Ava.

“There’s a subtle difference,” replied Bea. “Think about your martial arts training; focusing on the proper muscle groups to achieve the correct result. Balance starts at your core which stabilizes your legs, not the other way around.”

“So—semantics.”

Ava and Bea were back in the Birdcage while Jillian stood outside watching the monitor. Ava was kneeling on the floor, eyes closed, and was focusing on the muscles in her back, trying to feel the Halo inside her body. Bea was in front of her, mirroring her posture. The Warrior Nun activated the Halo, continuing to focus on her upper back. Heat and vibrations radiated through her as the Halo sang. She willed her body to move the Halo closer to the surface, much in the same way it would force out a shallow splinter. She screwed up her face in pain at the burning sensations in her back and fell forward onto her hands. Immediately, she felt Bea’s fingers clasp each of her wrists.

“You can do this, Ava,” she whispered encouragement.

After what felt like an endless moment, she felt the Halo moving in her body. No—she felt her muscles moving around it, forcing it to the surface under her skin which was burning due to the interior heat of the Halo. Bea gasped and Ava grunted as her body shook and she tried not to scream.

“Ava, it’s under your shirt.” Bea awkwardly pulled Ava’s top up and bunched it under her arms. “Ava!” she ordered suddenly, “Try phasing around it!”

Instant relief as Ava focused on phasing her upper back. She reached up behind her and felt the metal ring warm in her hand. She collapsed forward into Bea’s arms, tears streaming down her face as her body continued shaking.

“You did it,” whispered Bea in her ear, gently stroking her hair. “You did it, darling.”