There was no crossing of energy this time, just a general sense – whether wishful thinking or otherwise – of a decreasing distance between them.

New elements came into play, one that added another surprise, as well as one that created great sadness for llhaesa. She sensed others accompanied Jahrae, one of which was her mum, Saehressa. Her dad, Mrevan… llhaesa sensed was no longer among the living, and at this, she openly wept.

Unable to hold back the flow of tears once the first tumbled and slid along her cheek, llhaesa let loose with a torrent of sluicing tears. Her body trembled and contorted as she cried, the tears and trembling accompanied by muffled wailing sounds that still managed to roust Ronnie from sleep.

Ronnie hurried to llhaesa’s cabin, but still observed decorum and knocked first – though she did not wait for an answer. Llhaesa was distressed, and Ronnie intended to get to llhaesa to provide comfort and support, no matter the triggering circumstance. Ronnie found llhaesa sitting up in bed, a covering blanket bunched around her waist. Llhaesa remained in the throes of sadness, consumed by a pent up and overflowing reservoir of emotion, perhaps a combination of all that she had endured over 15 years – this was her first honest to goodness cry, and nothing could – or should, in Ronnie’s point of view – stand in llhaesa’s way.

Llhaesa felt Ronnie’s arm gently slip around her back, her hand softly messaging in a circular fashion, while Ronnie added soothing words of comfort and encouragement. After a moment, Ronnie took llhaesa into her arms, started slowly and smoothly swaying back and forth, the repeating rhythm serving to placate the inner energy that otherwise would find its way to drive upward tears.

Ronnie felt positively horrid; she had never seen llhaesa so upset. Her heart poured outward, after all llhaesa was still her partner, and Ronnie felt the pull of love calling upon her to ease llhaesa’s pain. After a solid twenty minutes of full out cry and full-blown counter measures by Ronnie, llhaesa brought her emotions under control, and could finally begin to wipe away tears.

Ronnie pulled away slightly to give llhaesa space to self-attend, still not knowing the source of this emotional eruption. “Llhaesa, do you wish to talk?” Ronnie offered in a soft and encouraging voice.

Llhaesa looked toward Ronnie, saw the intent, the worry, the concern, and replied, “Yes… yes, Ronnie, I would like that.” Llhaesa paused, her hand still holding a half soaked tissue upon her face, occasionally dabbing at residual tears. After several seconds passed, llhaesa began to share what triggered the tears, though her voice carried a subdued and resigned feel.

“As is my custom, I engaged in Aailhra prior to sleep. Once again, I felt Jahrae’s presence – closer now, and for the first time, I felt my mum’s presence – Saehressa – she is with Jahrae. My dad…” mentioning his name, llhaesa burst into tears once again, but Ronnie now had a solid sense of why, to be sure also a sense of foreboding, but a sense of what prompted llhaesa’s tears.

Llhaesa quickly brushed away this new round of tears, and rediscovered her voice. “My dad – Mrevan – is gone; I fear due to my loss, Ronnie.”

Ronnie waited a few seconds before speaking, her voice continuing to be soft, gentle, and loving. “I cannot think of a worse fate than to lose a child, llhaesa. Your dad faced an incalculable and unfathomable pain, heartbreaking, really. He obviously loved you to pieces.”

Llhaesa nodded, knowing this was true – she would have great difficulty if something happened to either of their children. Once again pausing as she searched her thoughts, older memories came forward, and she shared some of her family history.

“Ronnie, have I mentioned Cshrehyi to you?” llhaesa asked, not at all certain of what she had and had not shared to this point.

“No, I do not believe you have. Who is Cshrehyi?”

“My brother.”

“Oh. I did not know you had siblings. Do you have any other siblings?”

“No. Cshrehyi was my older brother. I never met him, for he died 4 years before I was born.”

“Llhaesa, I am so sorry. Your parents have endured so very much. What do you know of him?”

“Only that he loved to write, and excelled at it in fact. According to mum, Cshrehyi performed on a far higher level than his age equivalent of six. I have read some of his stories, and they are rather remarkable creations from the mind of a child of that age.

“Six, you say that as if that was…”

“He died at six, Ronnie. Mum and Cshrehyi were out in front of our home, flying kites. His kite failed on the first attempt to fly, but it soared on the second.” Llhaesa went on to describe what occurred, of how Cshrehyi was thrilled with his success and with the seeming magic of the sail caught in the invisible but moving air, of how he ran across their property, into the road, and into the path of an oncoming transport, the driver of which was busy talking on his mobile.

Ronnie looked horrified, now sharing some of llhaesa’s pain. “How awful, and your mum… was right there?”

“Yes. She saw it unfold; mum would tell you she screamed a warning as she ran toward him, but Cshrehyi failed to hear her. It happened right in front of my mum, not from here to the door to this cabin.”

“Your dad…”

“My dad took it very hard. My mum could channel the pain – she has always been strong, and a lifelong practitioner of Aailhra. My dad could not reach inside and pull the hurt out of him – it would just eat away at his insides. When I was born, he had a diversionary means of channelling, and he was a great dad – always there for me, encouraging me to be strong, to stand up for what is right. When I played, be it in elementary grades, high school, college, or when I toured, he was my biggest fan – I cannot recall ever hearing a negative comment from him through my life, and when I graduated from N’rellia, I think he was the happiest person on Arrhazon in that moment.”

“Given this history, your loss would likely be an emotional burden he carried no capability of managing. Oh, dear. That insidious leader of yours, the damage he did to your family is incalculable, and it reaches all the way here to ours. At least we live; your dad… was not so fortunate.”

Llhaesa looked at Ronnie, her eyes reaching deep into Ronnie eyes, with her trademark look that reflected a mind on a mission, searching for Ronnie’s soul. When llhaesa found the connection for which she searched, she conveyed a message with clear and deep intent. “Ronnie, yes Brellian did reach all the way here to this world, but it was not to ‘our’ family, as if I had family on Arrhazon and family here; there is but one family – you, me, the children, Jahrae, and Saehressa – we are family, one family.”

Ronnie felt moved to formulate her own tears, and so she did. The only recourse was to embrace the person who uttered the words, and the two held the embrace, sealing their familial deal, for minutes on end.

“Llhaesa, that was an incredibly gracious statement, and I am honoured that you see us as one family. Your vision is one I accept, with said honour!

Llhaesa,” Ronnie moved back to the subject of llhaesa’s dad, he is with you now, I suspect both he and Cshrehyi are. They likely are rooting for you, knowing all of this makes you stronger, a better person, musician, and… leader.”

“There is that word again, a word I have not had tossed in my direction in a long, long time!” llhaesa smirked whilst giving this answer. “Fifteen years ago, it was a rather annoying word for me. Dear friends, and Jahrae to a lesser extent, thought I should go after the Chief of Government position, and well… we had a few debates over the issue. At least on this world, no one can tease for me to be president, the Constitution forbids anyone other than natural born citizens from holding that office. Imagine an off worlder running, wow… that would make the Fox news shows go wild with frenzy!”

“From a distance, it seems that was a lot of pressure to place upon someone so young – you were in your early twenties then, right?” Ronnie asked, not at all sure of llhaesa’s actual date of birth.

“Yes, and I was exiled at 25. I am 39 now.”

“You still look 25,” Ronnie added sincerely.

“Perhaps that is the result of my two missing teeth, it produces such an age defying effect and look!” llhaesa self-deprecatingly answered.

“Both of your parents must have carried great pride in you, llhaesa. An accomplished musician, someone who has head of government mentioned in the same sentence with your name…

Which reminds me, I have been meaning to ask you how our worlds are different.”

Llhaesa thought for a while, searching for contrasts and comparisons. “Both worlds have their strengths and weaknesses, Ronnie. Geographically, both carry superb natural wonders, each with its own inherent beauty and harsh elements.

In terms of culture, there are distinct differences, but there are similarities as well. We are cousins after all. Perhaps the greatest contrast in culture comes with the tendency here to engage in war, to have a world that has many countries suspicious of the intent of one another, and who look to settle differences by fighting. I would add people get nasty here over religion, thinking their belief the one correct belief to the exclusion of all others. You would not see this attitude on Arrhazon.

Killing to achieve power – Brellian was so unusual, so out of Arrhazonan character. Perhaps we became too complacent, lost sight of what we need to cherish and work for in society. We need to be vigilant, and never lose sight of how precious freedom, equality, and diversity are. There are lessons for both worlds arising on both worlds.

I will work for change here, Ronnie. I cannot help what stirs within me. Women on this world, as with Arrhazon, do not have equal rights. I cannot set idly by and let that pass without comment, without effort, without working for change.

My mum was a powerful influence upon me; she stood for her rights, knowing I watched, knowing I learned. Addison and Serada, their lives are impacted by the societal framework we leave them. We need to leave them a better world, one that recognises their gender as equal.

My dad… my dad believed heart and soul in equal rights for women, and he too set a fine example for me. I cannot believe he is gone, Ronnie.

For now, I will try to refocus my thoughts on mum and Jahrae; it has been far too long since we were together.

I am going – I need – to change the subject, and get my mind off this lament, refocus forward upon positives.”

Ronnie marvelled at llhaesa’s ability to adapt, to right her own ship when distress called upon her. “I may have lost Tim,” Ronnie thought, “But Tim was a projection of the real person. The person with me – the real person – carries so much depth, and it would have been a shame for llhaesa to not reclaim the totality of her being.”

This observation passed, Ronnie asked llhaesa what positives she had in mind in the moment.

“Solving a great problem of my current life, Ronnie,” llhaesa joked. “Barbara has promised to have a dentist see to my missing teeth, though I am unsure how she will manage this. She mentioned the President’s dentist…

I have another vain indulgence to address, my hair. I have had bottom of shoulder blade length hair from childhood onward. It is time for a change, time for a more moderate length; though I am not inclined to a butch do – at least not yet!”

Llhaesa giggled at the thought of the earthly butch-femme stereotypical framework people expected in lesbian relationships, and shared her view with Ronnie. “In truth, Ronnie, the reality is far different – we form partnerships of infinite types, mix and match as suits each partner. So my indulgence is simply to take my hair to shoulder length, perhaps play up the curl a bit, maybe mess with colouring – har, wonder if Barbara can manage a stylist at sea…hmmm!”

Saehressa was on intimate terms with emotional pain. Her first child was lost at age 6 to a negligent driver, her second was murdered by the heinous Brellian at age 25. She subsequently lost her husband and love of her life – a direct result of the death of their children, lost not that long after llhaesa. He simply could not handle the fact that llhaesa was also lost.

The pain was still present in Saehressa, still with her every day. So too were the memories of Cshrehyi and llhaesa and Mrevan, and the memories were something to cling to of them, there to savour, there to appreciate.

In Saehressa’s dreams, where her conscious mind had no control over subject matter, her family would visit regularly. Sometimes the dreams were horrific, reliving the losses; sometimes whomever the dream was about would be desperately trying to reach and comfort her.

Looking around the great room, Saehressa was flooded with memories of the better times, when it was she, Mrevan, and Cshrehyi, and after Cshrehyi’s death, with llhaesa. These memories spanned 39 years, and it was time to cap them in terms of this home, time to move on.

Two weeks before, Saehressa spoke with a realtor, looking to buy a flat intown, hopefully somewhere near the Old City park llhaesa so loved.

One flat was located not six blocks from Jahrae, not right on the park, but one block away, and one tour through Saehressa knew it was perfect. Not oversized, there were three bedrooms, each with a bath, one main bath, and a living room smaller than the great room in her current home, a well-furnished kitchen, a dining room, and one extra.

The sale of her home would produce insufficient revenue to buy in this pricy and very much in demand location, but money was no issue for Saehressa. There was just one thing she wished to do before making a final decision, which is why she would meet with Jahrae the following day.

The following afternoon, Saehressa spent the trip intown in anticipation of telling Jahrae, but she was also quite apprehensive, her hands busily searching for things on her clothing or bag that could allow them to expend fidgeting energy. Jahrae might not be crazy about having her mother in law living so close to her. If so, what then?

After she entered the building, rode the lift to Jahrae’s level and reached the door to Jahrae’s flat, Saehressa was ready to forget the whole idea. Too late, she had already signalled her presence.

Jahrae opened the door, and Saehressa’s first reaction was not a usual verbal greeting, but a lunge-and-hug, totally catching Jahrae by surprise.

“Mum? Goddess, what is wrong?” Jahrae stepped back just enough to give Saehressa room to answer and to look straight into her eyes for some tell-tale sign of what might be wrong.

Seeing Jahrae’s serious expression of concern, Saehressa could not help but laugh. “I’m sorry, Jahrae, but here I’ve been so apprehensive about telling you this that my emotions took control once I saw you. I feel rather sheepish now, but may as well tell you the story… though I should have said ‘hi, mum” upon my lunging entrance!” Saehressa was actually referring to Jahrae’s own first entrance into the T’yaeli home, a fall and roll ending with that very ‘hi, mum!’

“Anyway, I am looking to sell the T’yaeli family home and move intown. I cannot stay there any longer; the place is slowly eroding my soul, nibbling away little by little. I cannot live like this, Jahrae. Too many memories everywhere I look – especially at the baby grand.

A new start in a new place, around lots of people, it would seem the perfect setting for me to move on.

There is a nice flat for sale six blocks away from here, but do not wish to buy it until I have your blessing. If you do not wish me to be so close…” Jahrae would not let Saehressa go on, and quickly cut her off with her own words.

“Nonsense, I’d love to have you so close by. I love you, Saehressa. You are my mum and have been ever since I married llhaesa 9 years ago. We are family, we get on very well – at least I think we do – and your being closer makes everything so much more convenient! Now when can we go see this place?” Jahrae wished to leave no doubt about how she quite sincerely felt.

“The realtor said we could drop at any time, she is working there today. I’m uncertain whether she was trying to pressure me to into buying, but it is working!” Saehressa had planned things, even if she was apprehensive, on the way in.

Two hours and change later, Saehressa and Jahrae were back at Jahrae’s, secure in the knowledge the realtor had a deposit and a purchase and sale signed.

“A new beginning for you and it is well deserved, mum. I know the memories will always be with you, as they are for me.” At this, a tear dropped out of Jahrae’s eye, triggered by memories of llhaesa. Another followed, and then a third. Each slowly meandered downward along her face, taking slightly different routes; Saehressa gently reached out and lovingly wiped them away.

The two extended their arms toward each other and locked in a lengthy embrace; mother and daughter, comforting each other over the unimaginable pain they carried and would forever carry, comforting each other with their own timeless mother and daughter bonds and love. Both still wished to find joy in living life, in believing that it was better to have known and loved their lost ones than to not have known them at all.

Llhaesa, Cshrehyi, and Mrevan existed in their memories. So long as each of them lived, so too would their loved ones.

Jahrae is near; I can feel her sensory presence. Close – she is with me, yet she is not here. My soul whispers her name to the winds; my body screams for her reassuring comfort. I can hear voices, voices talking and occasionally laughing. There are others here. Not Jahrae – these voices do not belong here. I am awake.

My eyes cannot see; it is as if thread has woven my eyelids to the flesh below my eyes. My mind does not wish to be consciously active. It is calling for shutdown, for survival mode, for taking me inward, in some vain attempt to avoid destruction. I resist.

Time… what time must it be? I roll over in another direction – did I mention I am on the sofa in the darkened living room? The time lies on the opposite wall – an old floor-standing clock, passed down through my family. My eyelids will open for me. They will. They do, open and closing and opening. My vision is blurry. I wipe sleep from my eyes and attempt to squint. It is… 2:20 am.

Someone approaches; methodical footsteps grow ominously louder. They stop. I pretend to be sleeping. They are checking on me. They. Those others. The intruders. The goon-team.

Is there a way out of here? No, I have already checked through our flat prior to sleep and check in my mind repeatedly, as if the next run through will produce a positive result. Every single room and the three exits – stairways downward, stairway upward – all guarded. There will be no escape. There is no going out a window, not unless I choose to end my own life. If I die, it will be at their hands, not my own.

I think of Cshrehyi, perhaps finally brother and sister shall meet. Of the same blood, even if in the meeting we no longer are creatures through which blood courses.

Why are they holding me here? If they wish to arrest me, then be done with it. If they wish to kill me, let them complete their unseemly task. I will stand strong. I will stand proud. I will die an equalist, and I will die for what I believe. A woman, equal to you who will do me harm. I am an activist, equal to you who will inflict injustice upon me. I am equal to those of you who believe yourselves to be my superior by virtue of being born with a penis. My vagina is equal to your penis, tough guys.

I am thirsty, and I need to sleep. I rise. My feet begin to move, carrying me away from my sanctuary. I no longer take my body or its movement for granted. My body is precious. I may never see it again.

I leave the provisional bed-station and head for our kitchen. It is still our kitchen, despite the occupying presence of Brellian’s goons. Four are setting at our breakfast bar. I ignore them, passing without comment, and head for the cooler.

The door swings outward in ready response to my touch. I look for… something with alcohol. I will find nothing sufficient in the main cooler. I close this door and open the cold storage. Ah, just what I need. I pull out a bottle of Arrhazon’s finest liqueur and set it on the preparation shelf. I reach for a glass, a sizeable and wide one. I grab the bottle once again and remove the seal. I pour five fingers worth of liquid, though I debate and discard the idea of pouring more. I replace the seal, and return the bottle to storage.

The cold storage door closed, I head back to my bed-station. No one spoke to me during this time, but I sense all of their eyes were upon me. They spoke not to each other whilst I was in the kitchen. Now that I am back to my temporary sanctuary, they talk again. It is more urgent now, less frivolous. They make their goon-plans.

I could care less about them, excepting they are in my home.

Part of me wishes to head over to and play the piano, but I am no longer of a state to play competently. My refreshment is down two fingers. I did not put ice in the glass. I can feel the numbing liquid carrying out its intended duty, raw and powerful. I must sleep, for sleep is my refuge, sleep will give me strength to face the intruders as they carry out their next course of action.

There is only one finger of liquid left in the glass. I sense some unseen spirit stands by me ready to sew my eyelids shut as before; I feel her gentle touch upon my shoulder, and I hear her voice call to me – call to me in a sure and steady voice that sounds like Jahrae – “it is ok to sleep now, llhaesa.”

I lift the glass to my mouth one more time, I tip the base upward, the remaining liquid rushing downward, sluicing through my open and anticipating mouth, but not bothering to stop. It continues down my throat. The last drop leaves its temporary container behind and chases after its like droplets, on its way to become part of me.

I set the glass down. I look over to the floor-standing clock through fading eyes. It is 3:15. Sweet dreams, Jahrae. And all of my love to you!

For her part, Saehressa could sense her child respond to her voice and to her piano play, as if the music was a more complex but better understood form of communication. The only immediate problem with this language was that the child understood, but could not share his feelings through it; he had to use more traditional forms of human communication.

Six years old as of two weeks before, the child loved the music, felt the music, but he had difficulty learning to play the music. Possessor of a decent singing voice, his hands fumbled around a keyboard, a victim of a body growing too fast to maintain any semblance of co-ordination.

Where Cshrehyi shined was with words.

The child learned to read well before most children; by some measures, he was writing on a level many grades ahead of his own second year. When writing, he was lost in the world he was creating, fashioning an imaginary place with each word he added to the story.

Saehressa loved to read the stories that sprung forth from the child’s observant and evaluative mind. He missed virtually nothing, and truth be told, often wrote with a perspective that gave Saehressa and Mrevan pause.

And while he was a major bookworm and devourer of words, Cshrehyi was hardly a one dimensional child – he was just so damn good at writing. Water was another attractant, along with singing, and a natural curiosity to experience new things. Though he might prove inept at any given attempted venture, he was quite unafraid of trying.

Cshrehyi began to keep a journal before he turned 5. He maintained it in public view, and quite a number of people followed his thoughts regularly. Years later, llhaesa would read through his words, lamenting how she never got to meet and know him, to interact and develop the inevitable sibling rivalry and bonding, but cherishing the fact such a tangible record existed of thoughts generated exclusively from her brother’s insightful and well beyond his years mind.

As with llhaesa, Cshrehyi was an outgoing child, and he made friends easily. If he encountered a newly moved in child at school or in the neighbourhood, within a day the probability was high of his teasing for a sleepover.

Saehressa perused and embraced the memory of Cshrehyi. In her mind, he was not gone, just locked into a memory that blocked her gaining access to what was new, what had unfolded for Cshrehyi in the years since.

She tried to shake the memory of how she ran across her lawn as a vehicle came from nowhere and took aim at her child.

On that day, Cshrehyi was enamoured with the notion of kite flying. Not just the flying, but with the preparation, with the conditions, with its dynamics in flight, with ascribing all of these things into writing, fashioning it into a story of one summer’s day.

Saehressa and her son were soon standing in front of their home, assembling the first of their newly purchased kites. First part of the assembly was to fashion the lightweight frame, followed by attaching the kite-sheet, the tail, and finally the tether. The wind was slight but steady, but the rapid movement of clouds indicated it was stronger aloft.

Cshrehyi’s first attempt at getting the kite off the ground ended with it wrapped around a stubby tree. Saehressa extracted it from the greenery’s tenuous grasp, and her son quickly moved to try again. The kite caught the wind, and Cshrehyi’s sprint across their property encouraged the kite to climb.

The wind co-operated, taking the kite as if it was its own, lifting it skyward. Cshrehyi played out the tether, and with each metre of release the kite took advantage, seeking a proper place in the sky.

The child changed position, moving to work with the direction of the wind, trying to keep the tether from tangling on various low lying objects. He moved steadily toward the sidewalk that paralleled the roadway.

Q’retsar S’vehareh worked for the Arrhazonan government. A mid-level bureaucrat with some connections, he was ambitious, relatively young, and aiming for significantly higher. Such outlook drove him to never leave his work too far away, even when in transit, even when he was the operator of a moving vehicle.

On this particular day, he was headed for a meeting at the home of one of his peers, one of 4 managers who were gathering to formulise departmental strategy for the coming fiscal year.

His personality shaped by how he was perceived, Q’retsar wished to be known as a man’s man. Turning over a transport to automation flew in the face of how he wished to be perceived, and so he tried to multi-task while operating, engaging in and distracted by conversation on his mobile and work on his mobile interface.

One of the supervisors who reported to Q’retsar called him on his mobile and advised of a systems error. Turning his head slightly to look at the seat to his left, he activated his interface, and then logged in to see if he could gather more information – still operating his personal transport, unwilling to pull over.

Staying on road solely through use of his peripheral vision, his main attention was focused on the information on the systems issue. He paid no attention to his foot slowly pushing further forward at his toes, or to the resultant increase in vehicular speed.

He somehow successfully navigated a roundabout, and after coming out of the turn and on his proper path, he decided to navigate through a neighbourhood, saving miles of travel and precious time in transit.

On his third turn, he quickly re-accelerated beyond proprietary speed in such areas. Knowing the road ahead was clear of turns, Q’retsar’s attention reverted to his work interest.

Cshrehyi was ecstatic with the performance of the kite; he was equally anticipating the imagery he would download from the tiny video recorder wired into the frame. His neck was riveted upward, his eyes locked on his success, marvelling at the power of wind and sail and a well designed kite.

His movement was slow but steady, crossing the sidewalk perpendicular to the road, onto the short strip of grass, and on into the street.

Saehressa started toward Cshrehyi, calling out to him to move back onto their lawn, out of the road, but he did not hear his mum’s voice; his senses were focused upward.

Q’retsar’s signal briefly cut out, further diverting his attention from vehicle operation. The vehicle began to skew slightly toward the right, but his eyes were unable to discern he was no longer following the contour of the street side, rather now was slightly tangential to it.

In order to establish the proximate cause of an accident, there has to be an unbroken chain from the accident back to the suspected cause. Any interruption meant the correct cause lie further forward in the chain, not backward.

Investigators concerned themselves with sorting out proximate cause, sorting out all of the details, trying to reconstruct the chain of events that led to the accident.

For every actual accident, there are many close calls. Close calls result when something fortuitous interrupts and breaks the chain. On this day, the chain of events would not break.

Saehressa looked up to see a vehicle moving rapidly down their street. She began to run, screaming as she threw every ounce of strength into the motion of her long and strong legs.

Cshrehyi finally heard his mum, turning toward her to see what cue she was conveying. A split second too late, he followed her expression of horror and her pointing finger, looking straight into the eye of the operator of the vehicle that would kill him before he finished his last thought as a corporeal being.

And for Saehressa, to the end of her days she would remember these events as if she had witnessed them with part of time standing still.

The transport not following the street path; the vehicle moving much too fast; her son, initially unhearing her screams; her legs unable to overcome gravity and get her there in time; the expression on her son’s face; his now motionless body lying on the pavement, on a day where he had found joy in the sky.

What a difference a just a smidgeon of time can make! Now at the halfway mark in carrying her second child-to-be, Saehressa was now quite experienced at pregnancy and motherhood, a quiet confidence long ago replaced all of what she once could not imagine. Saehressa was as one with this new life; they had become well acquainted by necessity, but she was more than willing to do everything in her power to facilitate and nurture this symbiosis. And that slight kick she felt from this new being for the first time just moments ago served as a hello from an unseen but present accompaniment.

By all accounts, Saehressa’s was a ‘normal’ pregnancy. Saehressa experienced a normal amount of morning sickness, a normal amount of breast tenderness, a normal amount of weight gain, a normal increased need to urinate… and now noticeable movement at about the normal time. Not that any of this was a day at the beach, but in her opinion it was easily tolerable; truth be told, she was really enjoying the experience of being pregnant again.

While she would never lose the pain that came with the death of her first born, Cshrehyi, Saehressa welcomed the chance to bond with a new life, to be a parent once again.

From the moment she tested positive for pregnancy, Saehressa resolved to bond with this new life; she sensed in some abstract and highly intangible way that this child she carried would make a significant mark upon human history.

Engaged and active in nurturing, Saehressa spent time interacting with the foetus, if you could call her doing everything and the foetus coming along for the ride ‘interaction.’ Her favourite moments were reading the recently restocked bookshelf full of children’s stories (Saehressa loved the feel of traditional books, not the electronic versions that now dominated the business of publishing and reselling literature), where she would softly and slowly read aloud, just her and… and…

As yet, no name had been chosen, though not for want of effort by Saehressa or Mrevan, her partner who was beyond ecstatic at the prospect of again being a father. They went through literally thousands of names, and not one name yet jumped out and appealed to them in tandem.

Saehressa’s mind drifted back to her interaction with the foetus. While she loved to read, she especially loved setting at the traditional keyboard – the baby grand in their great room – playing and singing her favourite songs, sharing with her child to be. How she loved to play, how she felt as one with a traditional stringed, percussive keyboard. At one time Saehressa stealthily fell into daydreams where she developed and made use of her ample natural music talent. Then she met Mrevan, and those dreams were lost in the flow of life.

When they bought their home, Saehressa insisted they buy a traditional piano. There was insufficient room for a full scale model, but the baby version occupied the space in the corner by the picture window quite nicely, giving it the added advantage of being right in an ample supply of ambient natural light.

Now… Saehressa would play, sing, and read to her developing child. And one day she would teach this child her skill with keyboards, her skill with voice, so she… (she! Saehressa smiled at the knowledge she would soon have a daughter) could know the joy of soothing one’s soul – of communicating with one’s soul - through the complex act of making associative and complementary sound.

Saehressa rose from her comfortable chair and made her way to the keyboard bench. Lifting the keyboard cover, she once again began her daily mission to entertain – and teach – her child. The lyrics came easy… and when Saehressa came to the part with a name, there was no hesitation; there was no mumbling, there was no substitution of any name just to blow through and finish the song.

For the first time in life, this unborn child absorbed and stored away the first recognition of her existence in and by an interactive and communal society: they now knew who she was, how she would be known, as told by this happy creature she faithfully accompanied.

As Saehressa’s voice melodically and happily voiced the name “Llhaesa” for the very first time, this newly named and unseen descendant kick-messaged her approval. Llhaesa. An early transitional Arrhazon name, one long fallen from use, Saehressa first became aware of it when her advance literature class studied a rare work written a millennia before.

In the ancient story, llhaesa was a mythological leader revered and treasured by the people, one who challenged them to better, to end endless war, to build for a peaceful future, together.

The name meant ‘inspiring healer’ in early transitional Arrhazon, and Saehressa intuitively felt the name llhaesa was a perfect fit for her child – but there was more she could not quite form into conscious thought.

Shaking the feeling off and inspired by the sudden name ch0ice, Saehressa went another verse with the song, feeling two kicks right around when she sang the name ‘llhaesa’. Saehressa laughed at what she believed was coincidence, for it seemed that those two kicks were in time with the music she played.

On a level somewhere between conscious and subconscious thought, Saehressa was aware that the singing of llhaesa’s name triggered recognition not of the child’s approval of a name choice, but of the child acknowledging Saehressa gained awareness of a name already bestowed by the universe – and only now brought to Saehressa’s conscious attention.

“What a silly thing to think,” Saehressa muttered, half-heartedly and only consciously dismissing a notion that somewhere in her soul, she knew as truth.