In far too short a time, Joe called me down to be on hand for Mom's return from Guatemala. Dad and I stood in front of the spot where Joe indicated the LITV booth would appear, ready to welcome her back. "It's here," Joe announced, though we saw no change. The invisible door popped open and Mom, with her Guatemalan tan and artificially darkened black hair, stepped out of the booth into me, her eight-year-old son with arms wrapped around her in a welcoming hug.
She put one hand on my shoulder and pushed me away, "Aguas! Qué carajo está pasando?" She cried out in Spanish. A look of panic and confusion in her eyes as she took in her surroundings. Her eyes locked with Dad's, then with mine. A look of confusion took over, as if she simply couldn't process anything she was seeing. She raised a hand to her head. We realized that this wasn't Mom at all, it was still Maribel. Then her gaze went blank, as if she had fallen asleep with her eyes open.
"Clearing personality imprint blocks now," Joe said. It seemed to take an exceedingly long time. Apparently, it's not as easy as switching a light on and off. The brain and its interconnected pathways and memories are pretty complex. Nearly half an hour later, Mom's eyes came back into focus. This time they really were Mom's eyes, not Maribel's.
She saw and scooped me up in a tight hug. Then lifted one arm and motioned for Dad to join the hug. We just stood embracing each other without a word for maybe two minutes, before my attention span betrayed me and I squirmed out from between my parents.
"We missed you so much, Mom. We saw everything with the drone surveillance, you were great! I must have the bravest Mom in the world!" I blurted it all out in one breath.
Dad, finally stepped back half a pace, looking into her eyes. "I'm sorry," he said. "We shouldn't have sent you. We had no idea that Rafael guy would turn out to be a psycho. We agreed that it's too dangerous to send you back, and we've been working on contingency plans. You won't have to do anything like that again." He moved forward to hug her close again.
Mom stepped back and shoved him away with both arms. "What? You didn't send me anywhere. I volunteered and practically had to force you to admit it was the best plan. We knew it was a dangerous mission before I left. Nothing's changed. I handled it, and I'll continue to handle it. We'll debrief, review any new intelligence, and then,… I… AM… GOING…BACK. I'll finish the mission. We have a unique opportunity here to make real change. We can improve life for thousands in this one little operation, and it's an important foundation for helping millions, changing the entire world for the better. She looked at him as if she were a drill sargent scolding a new recruit. If you don't have the stomach for it, you can go back to chasing computer viruses around the web and trying to convince cubicle workers not to click on phishing links." I think the look of shock and hurt on Dad's face made her realize what she was saying, or maybe just the impact of the way she was saying it. Anyway, she stopped and stepped forward, wrapping her arms around him. "I'm sorry, Dan. I love you. I guess some of Maribel's fiery Latina spirit washed off on me. We should all take a little break to enjoy being together again. She pulled her head back to look into his eyes, "I love you, I do, but I will not be told that I'm too delicate and precious for dangerous missions. There's too much at stake here. I am strong, smart, and capable, Dan. I hope that's one of the reasons you married me."
The three of us left the headquarters and went back down to the main house, at least two of Joe's invisible protectors following along. Mom and Dad made sandwiches for us and brought them to the kitchen table. While they were doing that, I ran to the game closet and got out the board game 'Monopoly,' and began setting it up for four players. "I'm including a spot for you, Joe," I told him. "Monopoly is a classic Earth game, if you want to understand us better you have to play. Here's the rules," I said holding up the rules sheet toward where I assumed one of the drones would be. I flipped it over to show him the other side. "I'll roll the dice for you and hand out the money. You just tell me what you want to do." I said.
Just as I finished doling out the starting cash, Mom and Dad brought the sandwiches. Mine was peanut butter and strawbery jam with a big glass of milk. I smiled at the sandwiches, and my parents, at the Monpoly set. It was just like old times, before I became King Timothy Aaron Bailey, Supreme Ruler of the Entire Earth Solar System and Nearby Space. For the first time in what seemed a very long time, I was just a kid again. If you didn't count adding invible 'Uncle Joe'. To the Monopoly game, it was a perfect picture of normalcy. By unspoken agreement, we didn't mention anything about space aliens, drug-traffickers, world domination, or the intracacies of building a glactic trade network.
The sandwich was probably the best sandwich I ever had. Mom cleaned our clocks in Monopoly. She got the three yellow properties early and built houses, then more houses, then hotels. Adding more properties along the way. Dad and I begged for trade deals when we couldn't pay her rents, but she refused all offers, forcing us and Joe, who didn't try to negotiate, to mortgage everything we had until we were finally bankrupted.
"It was nice doing business with you boys," Mom said as she handed in her properties and money for me to stack neatly back in the box.
"Yikes, Rafael better watch out. You're ruthless," Dad said, half playfully. Mom smiled a little. She understood that it was his way of apologizing. I had a sudden idea.
"Joe, you told me that on other planets, the criminals, are treated with memory implant therapies to cure them of being criminals, right?" I asked aloud.
"Well, that's an over-simplification, but essentially correct, with the caveat that there are some who prove irredeemable," Joe replied.
Mom and Dad looked at me surprised. "So, maybe we could cure Rafael and get him to work on our side," I concluded, a smug smile on my face.
Joe stepped on my smugness, "There is the matter of informed consent, and to be effective, some level of cooperation is required by the… patient."
"You said criminals gave up the right to decide. As King of Earth, I declare him a criminal by all recognized Earth law, and declare that he be appointed a ward of the state. That's right, isn't it?" I pleaded my case.
"Yes," Joe answered, "but to undergo therapy, he would need to be restrained or fully compliant in a controlled environment, and willing to engage at some basic level rather than just focusing on resistance. That seems unlikely at present. If he were to be made available and was willing to engage in some initial therapy sessions, based on my current incomplete knowledge, I would estimate a 71% likelihhood of successful rehabilitation. I cannot provide an accurate estimate of the time required to affect such change, if indeed it could be affected."
"Seventy-one percent seems pretty good," I said naively.
"I don't think there's any way we could get him to cooperate short of kidnapping him and tying him up," Dad said shaking his head, "Nice try, but I don't see it working."
"I don't know," Mom cut in. "I think he might be receptive to therapy."
Dad stared at her with a look of complete befuddlement, "What? He's a psycho-killer. There's no way."
"Hmm, I don't know. I think maybe he's just still a little boy acting out against the pain of losing his parents in such a cruel way… He might welcome… relief from that," Mom said with a distant look.
Dad sat back heavily against the chair back, shaking his head. "This is crazy…" he muttered.
We decided that the potential benefit was worth including an attempt to convert him as part of tactical planning toward the overall mission success. We did, however, have contingencies for dealing with him in other, more direct ways, when and if the need arose. Mom would return to Guatemala as Maribel, with Mom's true personality again buried beneath the psychic blankets Joe would lay over her old memories. New details of Maribel's past were layered in, as were some additional personality tendencies that would help keep her fixed on the path to help the people of Guatemala. Joe also added in some additional safety protocols to be triggered if she should hear key phrases. These could be used to quickly get her to agree to emergency evacuation via LITV for example should things go haywire, or fubar as Dad put it. Outside the Simulation Room, We hugged Mom good-bye. Dad held her, looking deep into her eyes, and said quietly, "Be careful. I need you to come home to me." She pulled him tightly to her and whispered something I didn't hear. Then, she stepped into the Simulation Room to be transformed once again into Maribel, Maria Isabel Flores.