Let me tell you about my miserable morning:

The plaque on my door says Onyx. Humph. Should be Garnet for my birth stone, or maybe Jade. I like Jade. Onyx doesn’t do a thing for me.

It’s relatively and literally early when I get back to my room. It’s just after dinner according to my circadian clock and it’s early morning, just a shade after five ayem, according to my watch. On the one hand, I’m mentally exhausted from the revelations of the day but I’m also a little amped up.

Inside my room, I strip and step into the shower; long, leisurely and relaxing. I hope the rooms are soundproof because my neighbours are in for a treat as I sing bits and pieces of songs that pop into my head. A line or two from one song followed by a verse from another and a chorus from yet another song in between…

Being several years younger than my step sisters means that I've often been left to my own devices and this is one of the ways that I keep myself amused.

I towel off and wrap the towel around my waist, walk over to the computer console, put on the headgear and gloves.

Aloud, I say, "Hello Computer, I'm here to have my cerebellum polished." While I think to myself, "Zou Yan, please be gentle."

With the helmet on, the system reports “Mizzurian Cybernet Initializing” followed by “Welcome. I am Zou Yan. With whom do I have the pleasure of conversing?”

The experience is surreal as I can see the words displayed, hear them and also ‘hear’ them in my mind all at the same time. It’s a little overwhelming, like the recent telepathic connection I just had with Ms. Chan.

Without saying my name aloud, Zou Yan responds, “Thank you Jo. I am configuring the interface to better meet your requirements.” Which takes about fifteen seconds. Zou Yan then reports, “Net configured for use. Do you wish to proceed with creating your Avatar at this juncture? The process will take approximately thirty to forty-five minutes.”

Apparently, according to my manservant Kassidy, the process will allow me to clothes shop online and have things made to measure.

"Hello, Zou Yan, Yes, let's do the Avatar but we'll skip the Disjunction character for now. But first, a couple of quick questions. Are there Amber, Bariman and or Mizzurian Tartans? Plus any matching crests, seals and badges?” I'm thinking about the upcoming galas and considering how I might jazz up my outfit. 

"I'm unaware of any Tartans, crests, seals, or badges matching any of those names. The Mizzurian Corporation has its own logo” as Zou Yan shows me the Phoenix, rose and crown image from the seal on the invitation that I received, “and there is the logo for the Disjunction Game.” Which looks like the Ezekiel Wheel from the pattern on the house stewards' vest. So, not much to work with that's specifically related to my new found family.

“Second, what sort of medical facilities and or services are available here? I may be in need of those services if I become incapacitated in the next few hours or days. Like intravenous fluids, a feeding tube and even a catheter or diaper. Along with proper medical supervision... Like, maybe we establish a safeword. If I shout it out, you would requisition those services?" If the 'Trump' power is truly debilitating. 

“Should you require medical assistance in the first instance contact Sun Hui-Jin or if you are sufficiently incapacitated I can do that for you. Medical facilities in Carnelian are currently limited, and serious cases will be transferred to Earth as soon as is practicable to do so."

Following Zou Yan’s instructions for creating the computer avatar I shuck the towel I had wrapped around myself after my shower. I began running my gloved hands all over my naked body. This is the process the computer uses in order to generate an anatomically correct avatar of me?

What a weird process when a laser scan could have completed the task in a fraction of the time. With all the speakers and microphones wired into the room, I’m sure a sonar scan could be done too. But the process isn’t really all that unpleasant, so… My mind drifts to the girls going through this same process of stroking and fondling themselves which makes me feel a little warmth and throbbing in my loins. I’m a little embarrassed and go back to thinking of laser scanners.

Avatar complete.

"Thank you, Zou Yan. If at all possible, I'd like a big breakfast of Steak, Eggs, Hash browns, toast and baked tomatoes. A pitcher of orange juice and a carafe of strong black coffee would be great too. Deliver to my room at nine ayem. That will be all for now."

I take off the gloves and headgear and pull out my ‘Trump’ booklet and crack it open. Getting comfortable on the bed, I start to read… 

"Oh, uh... Zou Yan, for the record: The safe word is ‘Pajamas’. Thank You."

I am rereading the ‘Trump’ booklet again when the ‘Trump Block’ collapses at eight-twenty ayem and the pain stabs me through my skull from multiple directions. Bright blinding light, a roaring noise stabbing my eardrums and various daggers stabbing through my skull. Along with the sensory overload I feel a sense of vertigo like I’m falling. It’s like the time I activated Hank’s mini and started to fall into his brain, but I had some control then. Now: This is worse than when Ms. Chan’s portal first opened in front of me because it's coming from all directions at once instead of from just in front of me.

Thankfully, I am already laying down or I would have collapsed. All the reading didn’t really prepare me for this.

At first, I just turned off my brain. No resistance. Just allow everything to flood in as I gasp for breath like a fish out of water. The pain is so intense that it cancels itself out as endorphins flood my system. With my mind numb and blank I slowly bring myself back and start to concentrate on something that will distract myself from the mental mailstrom.

Meditation: In the Youth Group at the Congregation we did a guided light/body meditation. I guide myself and rush through the first attempt. Flex toes, flex feet, flex ankles, flex calves, knees, thighs…  On up to my scalp.

I slow down and do it again.

My eyes clear a bit and I realize that there is sunlight streaming through the windows. I crawl over to the windows and fumble around trying to block out that light. Sitting naked, cross-legged on the floor with my back to the windows I remember they’re automated. “Zou Yan,” I rasp, “Please close the window coverings. Give me as much darkness as possible.” Humming and swishing the blinds and drapes close. “Thank you, Baby.”

I remain sitting here, just trying to keep my mind blank when there’s a tap at the door. ‘Oh, goody,’ I think sarcastically, ‘breakfast has arrived.’ A twinge of nausea pokes my stomach.

“Enter.” I croak.

Kassidy, my manservant, enters the room with the light from the hallway entering along with him. The light comes rushing past him. stabbing  my eyeballs. Ugh…

“Thanks, Dude. Please, very quietly put it on the floor next to me." He does and backs out of the room.

When he leaves and darkness returns, I pick up a bit of the potatoes with my fingers and push them into my mouth. I chew and swallow by sheer will power. Eating with my hands, I work my way around the food tray and sample a bit of everything. Yummy. It all tastes like ozone. The roasted tomato is particularly metallic and it's all tinged with the taste of burning automobile brake pads. I pick up the jug of orange juice and take a sip that tastes like battery acid.

The only thing that tastes good is the strong black coffee. Bitter, the way I like it.

It's a good, sturdy coffee mug that feels very solid in my hands as I clutch it tightly. Slurping the scalding liquid helps me to center myself as I sit cross legged on the floor. This soothes me a bit.

I despise waste and need nourishment so I force myself to eat some more. I take a few more nibbles of ionized oxides. On my hands and knees I push the food tray across the floor and gingerly lift it onto a credenza. Gripping the edge of the credenza, I pull myself up upright as all my blood drains to my feet. My head swims weightless in my cranium for a moment.

Breath deep. Breath deep.

A few more morsels of electric eel go in my mouth and get washed down with a swig of citrus solvent. Refill the mug with molten mud and shuffle over to my bed. Slopping some of the bitter bean on myself as I go.

I lower the mug onto the bedside table and allow myself to fall face first onto the overstuffed mattress.

My head explodes with pain on impact and I bite the duvet to stifle a scream. I hold my breath for a dozen heartbeats. 

Another run through of the meditation and I'm able to roll over as stars dance in front of my eyes. 

I have to learn how to block out the power. But I also need to learn how to harvest it, use and master it.

An unexpected tap at the door disrupts my concentration and fireworks flash and bombard my senses.

They don't wait for a reply and come through the door unbidden.

It's Kassidy carrying a pitcher of water, a sturdy tumbler and a packet of paracetamol.

"What's this?"

"Zou Yan ordered pain killers for you."

"Okay, thanks."

He backs out of the room and leaves me to my agony. 

I'm starting to get a handle on my meditation and decide to forgo the chemical crutch for the time being. Although I have 911 on speed dial, so to speak, I don't want to medicate unless I absolutely need to.

By ten-thirty I feel like I’ve made some progress in building up my defenses so I venture sitting. It’s not as traumatic as the first time. I drink a glass of ice water which is soothing. Breathing deeply, I take the glass of water and shuffle over to the credenza. Half sitting, leaning on the credenza I pick at the remainder of my breakfast. Some salty, savoury flavours reveal themselves from behind the ozone layer. I am truly blessed with an iron clad stomach. Although I have some momentary pangs of nausea I am able to keep everything down, reminding myself that there’s nothing wrong with my stomach or the food I’m eating and all the misery I feel is coming from my head: From the ‘Trump’ power assailing my mind. Overall, I’m feeling pretty good physically: My appetite is properly sated.

The diuretic effect of the coffee nudges me to the washroom. I take care of business, wash my hands and splash cold water on my face, then make my way back to the credenza.

Kicking myself for not retrieving the coffee mug, I finish the water and pour the remainder of the coffee from the carafe into the tumbler and shuffle back to bed.

My head is pounding but it’s settled down to being a crushing pressure where my sinuses feel like over inflated air bladders and cicadas are singing loudly in my ears. This is an improvement over the stabbing and exploding lights.

Thinking ahead to lunch, “Zou Yan, buddy, I’ve finished my breakfast. Thank you. I’ll be sure to give it a glowing review on Yelp. Could you please get me more coffee, and a plate of sandwiches? Finger sandwiches: Egg salad; Tuna salad... White or brown, I don’t care. Kassidy doesn’t need to knock. I’d prefer it if he doesn’t. Thanks, Baby.”

A couple of gulps of my cooling coffee and I lay myself back down. A wave of pressure rolls up my body and breaks crashing through my skull. That tide recedes and the overall pressure is slightly lessened.

I run through my meditation again and I feel slightly more human. Again, I think to myself that I have to learn how to block out the power. But I also need to learn how to harvest it, use and master it.

So, I take a deep breath and drop my defenses.

NOPE! NOPE! NOPE!

I’m overwhelmed by the earlier sensations of flashing stabbing lights and roaring, eardrum piercing noise.

RAISE SHIELDS! RAISE SHIELDS!

Panting and sweating, I begin another meditation. Well, I won’t do that again any time soon.

I may have dozed off or passed out when I'm startled by a knock on my door. Blam! Boom! Exploding munitions in my head. Damn it! I specifically requested that Kassidy not do that. I pull up my defenses and hiss "Enter." through my teeth.

The door opens and I see Cousin Akio enter the dark room. I pull a towel over myself for modesty's sake.

"Good day Jo, how are you doing? I heard that you encountered too much 'trump energy.' Can I get you anything? Is your assistant helping you?"

I answer the unexpected visitor, "Hey, Akio. This place is awesome!" Very slowly, I sit up and secure the towel across my lap.

I see that Kassidy has fulfilled my request and had left more coffee, ice water and a plate of finger sandwiches on my bedside table. I take a sip of cold black coffee still in the tumbler. "Ah!”

Squinting at Akio standing in front of me, “When Cordelia first opened a portal to get me, it was like a billion photo flash bulbs went off in my face. So she did some sort of magic to tone down the effect.” I gesture for him to take a seat beside me, but he remains standing as I continue, “Last night, after the family meet-up in the Library, she took Alarna and me and warned us the shields were coming down and that we'd have to fend for ourselves. All this light and brain stabbing energy… I don't know how you can handle it..." I’m alternately holding my temples and covering my eyes. "Cordelia calls it 'Trump': The energy that powers the portals. Turns out I'm sensitive to it and have to build up a tolerance. How's Alarna doing?"

"Alarna collapsed in the library because of ‘Trump’ energy. Cordelia said a block she put on it expired. Jason and I took her to her room, but they chased us out. My experience with the portal wasn't like that. And don't notice any unusual energy. Maybe you and Alarna are especially good at sensing ‘Trump’ energy. Or maybe you're the only real members of the ‘Pattern family’."

"In the Library, eh? Ouch! Poor Alarna. I suggested that she hide in her room and even check on the medical facilities to see if we can be set up with some support. That's what I did." As I take another sip of cold black coffee I gesture to the carafe, "There's black coffee in the carafe if you'd like some… Or a sandwich? They supplied me with some pain killers but so far, I've managed without them. Just darkness and meditation. It's nasty, but I'm muddling through...." Pause.... " Maybe Alarna and I are the weakest links."

"I suppose we will know in time. Cordelia is not moving quickly with our... training. We still have some days and two balls to attend." 

"Move quickly, Akio? We've been here less than twenty-four hours." I laugh and then groan with pain from  my headache. 

"I wonder if what happened to you and Alarna was intentional. To show all of us the power and danger of ‘Trump’ energy. She doesn't seem the kind of person who would let accidents happen."

"If you could see and feel the power I do, you'd be excited to be here! I don't think she's intentionally doing this to me, or Alarna. Cousin Cordelia: I think she honestly needs our help. Sorry, Dude. I'd love to talk some more. To explain why I believe her but I need to take a break and lay down again. Once I'm feeling better..." I carefully lay back down and pull my pillow over my head thinking that I must sound like a crazy person.

"Rest well, cousin. It's good to drink a lot of water, and in Japan we believe that a hot bath always helps the natural toxins come out of the body. I'll check on you again later." I hear the door open and close again as Akio departs.

Nice that Akio thought to check up on me. I feel bad for giving him the bum’s rush though. The distraction was tiring but it actually helped. I flip the pillow off my face and sit back up.

Looking at my watch, I see it’s almost one in the afternoon. I slowly eat the sandwiches and wash them down with more coffee. I’m sure they’re delicious, but they are just flavourless globs of nutrition to me.

Between mouthfuls, "Zou Yan, Please send flowers and chocolate to Alarna with a note saying that I hope she is enduring and look forward to seeing her when she is well..."

I take Akio’s advice and take a hot bath. I’m mentally exhausted from concentrating on the damned meditation cycle but I’m starting to relax in the bath so I let loose and start singing again, like I do… Only not as loud as usual.

I climb out of the tub and step into the shower stall for a quick cool rinse. My headache has eased to a tolerable level as I dry off.

“Zou Yan, can you play some music?”

“Yes, what would you like to hear?”

“Something mellow and meditative. Like Gregorian Chants. That would be cool.”

Softly, ‘Christus notus est…’ begins to play as I lay down on the bed and soak up the hypnotic sounds.