Sadness. RAGE. Dismay. FURY. Discontent. ANGER. Bemusement. CONFUSION. Existential despair.
As she alternated between stomping angrily and sauntering sadly through some random, usually-unfrequented corridor of a residential area on the Federation starbase designated Deep Space 13, the whirlwind of incompatible emotions running through Julia Webb’s mind were preventing her from finding anything approaching peace.
Who does that JAG officer think she is…
She is our enemy.
Why are they holding me here…
They are our enemies.
I should have forced them to beam me home…
We must force them to beam us home.
Why can’t I go home…
We will go home. They must comply.
Why does everybody hate me…
You are a monster. The enemy fears monsters.
She felt like a battle was raging in her head, but she didn’t know who the voices belonged to. She didn’t recognise herself or the voices from the past in either of them.
“Julia Webb”. Even that designation didn’t even mean anything to her. She used it because Doctor Zaman told her it was important to do so. Her Borg designation was given to her by her captors and abusers, he explained, so she should not continue to use it. But she couldn’t remember a person called Julia Webb. Except… no, she couldn’t remember.
Neither, though, did “Five of Twelve” mean anything to her.
No home, no name, no friends, no family, no purpose… what even was she?!
Still reeling from her ‘interview’ with Commander Jodie Halsing, Julia had no idea what to do with herself. She alternated between self-pity and imagining violent scenarios in which she could successfully return herself home to Orpheus, the only ‘home’ she had ever known. Or at least, the only one she could remember feeling safe in.
The enemy individuals categorise you as a monster. We should behave according to their expectations of us, her mind raced.
No! I’m not a monster! a quieter voice protested.
Resistance is futile, the more confident voice responded. The medical staff of Orpheus may have extracted our tactical augmentations, but we are still superior. They will comply.
But… they don’t deserve to be harmed, the quieter voice protested. That would be wrong! I’m not a monster!
She stopped mid-step, clenching her fists and breathing more heavily. She scanned her immediate vicinity and, confident there were no individuals within audible range, she let out a loud scream for as long as her augmented lung capacity permitted.
“SHUT UP!” she screamed again.
Anguish, frustration, rage… she didn’t know why. It just felt good. Next, her left fist shot out to her side and punched the wall, clanging and leaving a light dent on the bulkhead’s decorative housing before slowly retracting. She didn’t know why she’d done that either, but that, too, felt good.
“SHUTUPSHUTUPSHUTUUUUUP!”
She paused momentarily, closing her eye and taking a deep breath, before her legs continued stomping on. She felt no fatigue. She had various servos and exoskeletal supports integrated into her primary mobility limbs, after all. She could conceivably stomp around the station for as long as she wanted. Why was she stomping around? She didn’t know that, either. Back home, she’d have found a quiet part of the lower decks and begun assimilating the ship’s unrestricted databases for useful information about her new circumstances.
Here, she couldn’t. She didn’t know this place. It was a busy place. She didn’t like it, but she didn’t know why. It wasn’t home.
As she stomped on, trying to sift through her conflicting thoughts, she looked up as she noticed a group of people rounded the corner.
Species 5618, two individuals. Species 3783, one individual. Species 180, one individual. Civilian attire. Unarmed. No threats.
As the group of civilians - visitors to the station, presumably - rounded the corner, chatting among themselves, she abruptly stopped her stomping and observed them. As they came closer they stopped their chatting as they saw her, and also stopped in their tracks, visibly recoiling. They hastily turned around and walked back the way they came, no longer chatting.
A tear rolled down Julia’s cheek as the visibly-disturbed group of individuals disappeared back around the corner.
Why has this happened to me…
The other voice didn’t reply.
Julia stood in the corridor motionless for another five minutes, looking at where the people had been, before moving back in the direction she’d come from. She no longer stomped.
