Only Senses

By Emily Douglass

Foreword

"The rapture

Unfurling blues and greens

The rapture

A swirling violet stream

Mystic

Majestic

Entangled in a web of curling vapour thread

Enraptured

An eclipse intoxicating

Strangely not inside

Strangely not outside

Drowning in the middle of an eerie transition

And I don't know

And I don't know

And I don't know your name

Never been alive

Yet I haven't died

I hover disembodied in semi-wakened haze

Floating far above the cloud

Sinking far below the ground

Only my senses remain

The rapture

Unfurling blues and greens

The rapture

A swirling violet stream

Mystic

Majestic

Entangled in a web of iridescent curling vapourthread

Floating far about the cloud

Sinking far below the ground

No form

Only my senses remain "

  (Siouxsie and the Banshees)

"I've never met anyone like her before. She seemed different,mysterious, tempting. I must admit she aggravated me several timeswhile she was in my custody. Her intelligence and bitterness made herone of the worst detainees I have ever come across. She was oh sobeautiful. Her light brown hair flowed over her squared-off shouldersand always had the most gorgeous curls. She had solid black eyes.They were the darkest eyes I have ever seen in my life. It was likelooking down the barrel of a gun. I could tell she was full of evil,a writhing pit of animal ferociousness hid behind her lids. Shehardly blinked half the time. It was as if she couldn't close hereyes for a moment in case she might miss one important detail.

The most erotic thing about her was her voice. Her voice soundedlike she was a robot, a droid of some kind. It wasn't deep, it wasn'thigh, and it did not change much. No matter what she was talkingabout, her voice tended to stay the same. Monotonous, but intriguingat the same time.

The guys and I here at the station have a bet going on aboutAmethyst. Actually, we have several bets going on. The first bet ison whether or not she is actually human. We seem to have a few Muldertypes here who think she is a rebel alien or something goofy likethat. I know I won my five bucks on that bet. She is human. She justdoesn't act like one.

The second bet we have going is whether or not she has beentelling us the truth. We all know she killed that man, there's nodoubt about that. In fact, she has even admitted that she shot thepoor bastard. But, the bet is on all the other weird stuff she's beentalking about. Not very many of the guys believe what she has toldus. I do. I don't know why, but I believe her. Some of the things shehas mentioned, and the stuff we found in her journal doesn't seempossible, but I believe her. There's something in her dark eyes thattells me she wouldn't lie. It's almost like she can't lie.

The third and final bet that I know of is whether or not shethinks I am better looking than the Lieutenant. We've been the onlytwo she will talk to. Anytime someone else tries to talk to her shejust stares silently. The guys think she wants to take one of us homewith her. These guys need to get wives and s*@~. She's not goinganywhere.

I have made a bet with myself. No one knows about it, but I betanyway. I think she wants help, but won't admit it for some reason.Sometimes when I spoke with her about the things she has seen anddone I could tell she was missing something. There would be a longingin her voice like she missed out on some normal experience most of usgo through. I know her childhood was nothing like any of us have everheard of, but she claims she enjoyed most of it. I still bet that sheis longing for something she doesn't think she can have. I'm notreally positive I even know what I'm talking about. I just knowthere's a void in that lady's life, and I think she wants to fillthat vacancy."

"Do you understand the severity of the charges that have beenbrought against you?"

"Yes, I understand the charges that have been brought against me.What you need to understand is that the charges are not severe. Theyare also false."

"Did you or did you not shoot him?"

"Yes I shot him, but that does not equate severity, nor does itequate guilt."

"How do you figure?"

"Well, sir, I do believe that you must discover what my motive andintent are. My intent, obvious enough, he's in the morgue. My motive,however, is not so obvious."

"I'm not in the mood to play games with you, Lady."

"I do not believe we are playing games, Lad."

"Don't get smart with me!"

"Sir, with all due respect, I was smart before I met you."

I cannot remember when I first got here, flat on my back for alleyes to see. I can remember the potent stench of rubbing alcohol, theburning of cauterized flesh, and the sweat of merciless men who callthemselves scientists. I recall the flickering fluorescent lights,the pastel white of the lab coats, and the shiny luster of needles. Iremember the pain, the tears from the pressure, the pleas when I wasyoung, and the practice forced upon me for hours. I do not remembermy mother, I do not have a father, and I do not remember my brothersor sisters. I am surprised I even remember my own name at times.

I find it strange how my mind fixates on the countless hours spenton the surgery table, the examining table, and on training. I amconstantly tested everyday for at least two hours. But when I wasyounger, the time I spent lying down, poked and prodded, injected andscanned seemed to last longer than two hours. Now, it is just part ofmy daily routine. The examinations are just a few hours each day thatI get to relax. I do not have to practice and, I do not have totrain. All I have to do is deal with the occasional amount of painfrom the needles, lights, and noises. I often asked them why they didnot get rid of my pain sensations. They added and deleted so muchstuff that I really cannot comprehend why they left pain functional.They examine me everyday so I really do not need pain to inform methat something is wrong with my body. If something did go wrong theywould find it during my examination. They told me they would considermy idea for the next batch. How nice. The next batch will not do meany good.

What I know is completely inferior to the mysteries that envelopemy thought. I simply understand facts given to me about the world,and why my world is so different. I know nothing about gender,society, motherhood, or friendship. I feel nothing of love, kindness,or devotion. All I know is orders, commands, and execution of thoseorders and commands. Small prices to pay perhaps, but then again, Iwould not know.

Why is there war? I know not why political leaders forge againstanother for whatever reasons. I only know that we are in a war. Iunderstand that I have been constructed as a weapon, an infiltrating,emotionless weapon. Robots would be easier, but nothing mechanical,nothing man-made can compare to what a woman can make. Life adapts,robots only know what they have been programmed to know. Man onlytries to improve life so he can quicken death; so I've been told.

My name is Amethyst, and I am one of many. I am the threehundredth clone of one model, the thousandth of four. Each batch cameout better than the first, me the best of all. My makers are amazedby my lack of enthusiasm. I do not feel enthusiasm for their success,only my own. In the books I have read I never found a slave who everthanked their master for the chains around their ankles.

I was ordered to compose this electric journal. The reasonproposed to me hangs on the fact that I do not perceive as mosthumans do. My makers want to know the effect of their manipulationson the psyche. They do not listen to me when I explain my psyche isnot like their own. I did not learn emotions like most humans have. Ionly know their definitions and use in the symbolism of language.Nevertheless, they never hear me so I compose away.

They informed me that my birthday is today. Twenty-three years agoJack extracted the contents of two ova, combined them, and insertedthem into an empty egg. The ovum, manipulated by science to believefertilization had occurred began to multiply. How spectacular; theysay. They informed me when I was twelve that the two X's had beenaltered to their liking. The genetic alteration of my genetic strainexplains why I am different, but I already knew I was before theytold me. I always knew.

Peter came to me today with a birthday cake he had made.Interesting concoction. Bright and colorful. Moist, fluffy, andsaturated in glucose. I found the cake tasteful, but my intestinesfound the sugar too rich and complained about the massive sweetnesslater. Birthdays are not bad. I got some gifts too. I received aGlock 9, and a Browning auto. They also gave me some strange lookingoutfits. I did not tell them that the clothes lacked any seriousvisual appeal. I just thanked them and went back to my room. I wonderwhy they never celebrated by birthday before.

I got in trouble soon after I returned to my room. I disassembledthe guns I received as soon as I walked through my door. They fearedthat I had somehow damaged the tools. Silly men. I know more aboutthe weapons than they do. They forget that I have been trained to usethe tools to destroy their enemies. I suppose getting too mad at themis futile, they were not the ones who trained me how to kill. Theywere the ones who made me see and hear, not seek and destroy.

Peter, I like Peter. He is very kind and informative. We havebecome friends in the dictionary sense of the term, but I really donot understand the term as most people have defined it for me.Anyway, Peter is one of the scientists who examine me everyday. Peteris much younger than the other makers. He has a very strange glowabout him I have not seen around anyone else. Perhaps he always has aslight temperature, I have never asked him though. I do not want toinfer that he may be different from everyone else. He seems verysensitive.

I enjoy Peter's tales of brains and neurons. He too does notunderstand why I care not that I am so much better. He explained tome when I just turned eighteen that one of the manipulations made tome increased the speed of my neurons' ability to fire. Peterpractically shook with excitement, making that deep reddish filmaround his body flow like the water in a pond that just received athrown rock, when he told me about the myelin sheath. I remember hisexact words, "Amethyst, myelin helps conduct the current through yourneurons. The thickest sheathed neurons conduct at 120 meters persecond. We altered your genetic code to make more of the lipids andproteins to myelinate all of your neurons about four times as thickas most normal humans!" I only stared at him blankly. I found his ownenthusiasm admirable, but I could not join in his triumphant praise.Peter's forehead wrinkled and the haze around him faded slightly.

"Aren't you impressed?" He asked me and I could tell that I abasedhim.

"Impressed is hardly what I would call myself. You are simplytelling me that my brain can process information more quickly thanyour own."

"Of course I am Amethyst, aren't you the least bit interested?"

"I suppose I could be more interested if I knew exactly whatimprovements you have made from your own system to mine. What doesthe difference in firing speeds make to my perceptions compared toyour own?"

"There are several differences and improvements. I wouldn't knowwhere to start."

"How about you begin by explaining to me how the faster processingspeeds attribute to my killing capabilities?" .

"Amethyst, you know I hate it when you refer to yourself as akiller."

"Granted I have yet to exterminate, but you cannot deny that I wascreated for the purpose of terminating the lives of your currentenemies."

"Dammit! Never mind. I don't want to talk with you about that." Herushed out of the room and slammed my door. Anger is another emotionI have learned well. I felt odd because I made him so angry, but Ireally wanted to know why I am considered a soldier, a bringer ofpeace just because my neurons fire faster.

We did not continue our conversation until my twentieth year. Ilearned more about myself than I ever imagined. I also learned moreabout Peter. I knew he was younger, but I never realized that he hasalways been around, even though I am only two years his minor.Peter's father, one of my makers, introduced Peter to the world ofgenetic engineering at the age of two.

Even though Peter is one of the men in a white coat, he alwaysmakes sure I am comfortable. We have formed a bond over the years. Ijust hope he realizes that our bond is based only the fact that hehas information I can use. If I understand how my system operates,the better I can perform. He knows all of the alterations that havebeen made to a few of my senses. I must know also so that I canbecome one with what I experience. It is pertinent that I do notmistake certain noises for others, or certain visual scenes assomething other than what they are. If I am confused, I am dead.

"Now Amethyst, you understand what the prosecution will do withthe evidence found on your person?"

"Yes."

"Do you realize that your journal can be used against you in acourt of law?"

"Yes."

"Am I missing something, or do you just not give a s*@~?"

"No. You are not missing a thing."

"Sir, I cannot deal with her!"

"Why? What is she doing?"

"She's just not human."

I just found out why I got gifts for my birthday. I got my firstassignment. Everyone seems excited. The time to test their years ofresearch and agony is drawing near. I too sense my own anxiety to seeif all that I have learned will benefit me. This will be the firsttime that I get to do an exercise without monitors and electrodeshooked up to me. I am sure they will keep track of me with the homingdevice they strategically implanted into my skull. Still, for a fewhours I will be my own subject.

They replaced my gifts with new ones. I got two Smith and Wessonsand three Lugers instead of the Glock and Browning. I believe theseguns will do the job. If they fail me, there will always be martialarts. Some of the moves I have learned over the past years are morelethal and much more silent than a gun could ever be. I enjoy thephysical activity of punches and kicks as opposed to the listlesspulling of a trigger.

I must go now. I am about to travel around to the some otherlocation on the globe. I have learned that I must carry out threeassignments. One is to intercept enemy radio transmissions, thesecond is to scan a location my makers feel to be what they called a"hot spot", and the third is to terminate one enemy in his own home.Strangely I am experiencing some form of emotions. I feel giddy,silly, like a child again. I must make a note to ask my makers why Ifeel this way. I find it strange and disturbing. Until later...

"So, explain to us again why you are different."

"Why?"

"Just explain to us again why you are different. I am not in themood for your bulls*@~, Amethyst."

"Well, Lieutenant Gonzalez, I am not in the state of mind torepeat myself over and over again. You seem intelligent enough. Didyou not understand the first time?"

"Just repeat it again!"

"Do not yell at me. Your high pitched, annoying voice bothers me."

We traveled at night by car. The drive lasted for hours. I notedall of the signs I saw, all of the road construction warnings, thecautions, and the exits. I counted all of the mile markers. Wetraveled north stopping before morning to sleep. At dawn on the thirdday, we reached the border of another country. I had not beeninformed which country we entered. They did not tell me which of theseventeen languages I speak I would have to use. I felt that theyplanned the assignment with the grace and intelligence of a one-monthinfant.

Three of us went to that first assignment. Only one of us cameback. My main trainer, our driver and I stopped at a hole in the wallof a hotel the morning we entered the other country. The lights inthe hotel room barely illuminated the rooms, but I see best in dimmerlighting. Since I have the capability to see infrared, the dimmer thelighting, the better I can discern objects by the heat they emit. Imemorized the room as quickly as I could. To memorize my surroundingswas one of the first lessons I learned.

We rested for several hours. I slept on the floor while thetrainer and driver got the bed. So much for chivalry. Anyway, we gotup around five in the evening and searched for a location to feedourselves. When we walked into the diner or diner-like restaurant, Idiscovered immediately what language I needed to use. The localsspoke French and used a very strange dialect. I figured out thedialect within five minutes of hearing people talk inside therestaurant.

Breakfast, or dinner would actually be more appropriate, ended andwe jumped back into the car. I practiced the dialect with the driverand my trainer. I kept calling them mules, inferior species, andother silly names to pass the time away. I may not have very manyemotions, but I did acquire a sense of humor. I credit Peter withteaching me humor. He taught me how to laugh, but he did not tell methat there are specific times in which laughter is not appropriate. Iexperienced the shameful message about inappropriate laughter when Igiggled during a funeral of one of the original scientists. When Ilaughed, Peter hit my arm. Two other scientists in front of us turnedaround and called me sadistic. Their name-calling made me laugh sohard I had to leave the service. Of course I am sadistic. They raisedme to be horribly sadistic.

We continued through the small, somewhat rural town. As the carneared a water tower I started to pick up transmissions we did notreceive through the car stereo. As I have been trained, I quicklygrabbed a pen and notebook. My scratchy shorthand got the attentionof my trainer who turned around and asked me what I was doing. Iignored his request and continued to scribble the message I couldhear.

Two minutes later the message finished and I put away my pen. Istared at the various lines and dashes I wrote. "It's encrypted."

"What's encrypted?" The driver asked me as he looked at me throughthe rear view mirror.

"The radio signal she heard." My trainer responded to theperplexed driver.

"Bull! She can't hear radio signals," he retorted unbelievingly."No one can hear radio signals," he continued ignorantly. "They needa transistor or something. Besides I can barely hear people talkinghow can she hear radio waves?"

I shook my head in the back seat. I did not understand why theyused a naïve driver who won the prize for asking pointlessquestions.

"She has a transistor implant. Her ears were designed to perceivehigher and lower frequencies than most humans. You cannot hear peopletalk because you have lived a life in which you expose your ears toviolent noises that cause your cilia to dump the last of theirneurotransmitter and die. She has had cilia replacements every threemonths since her birth."

"What?"

"I have good ears, Stupid." I enjoyed responding curtly.

"Hey! There's no need to be that way woman." The driver did notknow whom he decided to mess with. My trainer warned him.

"I would suggest you refrain from speaking derogatorily toAmethyst. She could kill you faster than your brain could tell youshe hit you." I liked my trainer too. We shared the same type ofarrogance. When you know you are practically invincible it seems thatyour head tends to grow a few sizes. In fact, my trainer and I didnot even bother telling the poor man that I really do not have ciliareplacements every three months. We grinned at each other using themirror.

"So, what did the message say?" The driver asked beaten.

"It is about time you asked an important question," I added to hisdefeat.

"Have you already decoded the message, Amethyst?"

"Yes. The message was surprisingly coded in French double-talk."

"Double-talk?" The fact that my trainer did not know whatdouble-talk was surprised me.

"Ye-the-guess, do-the-gove-bull-the-gull ta-the-galk. But inFrench." The driver started laughing, but my trainer and I ignoredhim. I wasn't surprised that he died so quickly. Stupidity can getpeople killed.

"What did it say?"

"Ms. Amethyst, you are trying to tell us that you can hear radiofrequencies?"

"No."

"Then what are you telling us?"

"Nothing. I did not write my journal for you, so technically I amnot telling you a thing."

"Can you hear radio frequencies?"

"Yes."

"Prove it."

"Why? Would you believe me even if I proved my capabilities toyou? I can also see infrared, see in real-time, and smell bloodtwenty miles away. Would you like me to prove all of those as well?"

"You can smell blood twenty miles away?"

"Yes. Why don't you go take a twenty mile walk, cut your wristsand I will call you and tell you that I can smell you from here."

"I give up on you."

"You said you wanted proof. So Mr. Scientist of the Year, let usexperiment."

I told my trainer what the message conveyed. A secret meeting ofthe Society of Generals was going to take place in twenty-four hours.The location of the secret meeting turned out not far from our hotel.My trainer and I decided to return to the hotel and rent a room foranother evening so we could plan our attack. We kept the drivercompletely naïve to our plans. We figured he would be a largeliability if he knew anything we planned on doing. To get him out ofour business, we sent him to what my trainer referred to as a "tittybar". I did not want to know exactly what he meant by that term. Ihave a feeling he did not want me to ask either, so I did not.

"This is where she got really confusing. The Lieutenant had a hardtime dealing with her answers. She had the tendency to piss us offreally easily. I don't think she meant to do so on purpose. She justseemed so very arrogant. Like when we asked her if she had a lastname so that we could contact her kin. She gave us the most difficulttime, I swear."

"Do you have a last name, Amethyst?"

"We already covered that aspect of my identity. If I ever had alast name, it was removed two hundred and ninety-nine people ago."

"What the hell does that mean?"

"I am a clone."

"A what?"

"A clone. An exact replica of a female human subject."

"I know what a clone is, dammit."

"Then why did you ask?"

"Because I wanted to make sure I heard what you said."

"If you wanted to know what I said you should have listened thefirst time. I do believe I said ‘clone' at the optimal pitch andwith precise clarity: a perfect annunciation for you to hear andunderstand what I conveyed. You might consider having your earschecked for severe damage."

"My hearing is fine! I was just shocked to hear you call yourselfa clone."

"I do not understand why you find my declaration of my creationshocking. You have read through my journal already. I know theinformation is contained somewhere in there."

"I know it was! You just shocked me."

"I still do not understand. What about me being a clone did youfind offensive?"

"What on earth are you talking about?"

"Since you read my journal and obtained the fact that I am aclone, then me verbally acknowledging my origins should not havestartled you. Because you were already primed to know that I am aclone, the information could not have startled you. The onlypart of the definition of ‘shocking' that is missing is theoffensive part. What is so offensive about me being a clone?"

"Um, nothing."

"Good. If my origins are offensive to you, then you could onlyimagine what I think about your perceptually inferior origins."

"Bobby?"

"Yes Lieutenant?"

"Take over. I need some coffee."

"See what I mean? She had the tendency to really piss us off. TheLieutenant took an hour getting his coffee. I would have too had Ibeen giving the opportunity."

While the driver was "flinging Washingtons at some titties" mytrainer and I mapped out our plan. The meeting's location, though notfar from our hotel, rested in a very desolate location. If too muchtraffic plowed through the remoteness, someone would notice. Mytrainer and I decided that I should go alone to avoid extra bodies toattract extra attention. Unfortunately, my sex made it impossible forme to attend the actual meeting covertly. Instead, my trainer and Isketched out the best location for me to listen to the informationprovided by the Generals through a window.

At midnight, I walked the ten miles to the meeting's location. Ihad the opportunity to witness the beauty and tranquility of nature.My ability to see a wider spectrum of colors may add to my experienceof nature, but any human should be able to appreciate the mere geniusof nature. The crisp, darkened greens of the trees canopied the sky.I could smell them. Their scent tickled my nose with their air ofpurity. I found it amazing that I could not smell the poison of humancivilization emitting from their pores. Maybe one day Earth mightregain its marvel without the help of wasteful humans.

I gazed at the trees, the rocks, and the dirt and found myselfspellbound by the myriad of colors, smells, and sounds. The suncompletely disappeared at 9:30 p.m., but the rocks still released thecollected energy they roasted in all day. Rocks can seem dull to thenormal eye, but I can see their inner glow. As they spill forth thewarmth of the sun, I see their fiery souls simmering in the dim litworld. Glowing rocks are fascinating.

The ground smelled musty and wet. A smell I correlate with home.In the desert, rain smells much different from rain in normally humidclimates. It has a tangy, musty scent that reminds me of what wetdogs smell like. They smell cute, but not "right" at the same time.The earth beneath my feet spewed forth a scent every delicate step Itook. I lavished my moments completely alone and for once free ofexperiments and testing.

I heard a family of mice scamper around in the dark, over branchesand dead leaves. I approximated their distance at about a mile fromme. Otherwise, the forest kept its mysteries silent. I should haveknown a tragedy would sweep in on wings of fury. The forest keeps nosecrets unless it feels the need to hide from destruction.

"So, you were in a forest?"

"No sir. I was in the mall shopping my little heart out."

"Smart a&&."

"Can you believe she just smiled at me? She just about drove meinsane. If I weren't a gentleman, I would have smacked that crazybroad across the face. She didn't scare me. She was just a young ladywho thought she was better than everyone else. At least, that's whatI thought for a long time. After all that happened, I know she wasbetter than everyone else. She was just used for the wrong things,know what I mean?"

My stroll through the forest ended as I looked at the smallcountry house that stood before me. A dozen fancy cars parkedchaotically sat silently still as I crept toward the front of thehouse. Dressed entirely in black, I did not fear discovery, but Ipulled a gun as a precaution. I could hear the rambunctious banter ofmen. I could smell the stench of cigars and cigarettes. A vinegarysmell blasted into my nose when I stood only a few feet from thefront door. It smelled as if someone decided to spill a year's worthof wine inside. The men were having a merry time.

My training prepared me to sparse a scene for any surveillance.For some reason, I think it ironic that the surveillance I am taughtto discover is usually the same surveillance employed to detect anddestroy potentially dangerous persons like myself. Before Iapproached the nearest front window, I had already noticed that noone kept watch.

I listened for two hours undetected. The men discussed maneuversand strategies to enforce their beliefs. They talked about theirarmies and the chains of command that led to the slow acquisition ofopposing enemies. Little did they know they stared their demise inthe face every time they looked out the window into a pitch, black,darkness. Their inferior vision looked right past me. One man evenlooked right into my eyes and noticed nothing.

I retained the information I needed: modes of attacks, nextlocations of attacks, and the name of the one man in charge of theentire revolution. With the knowledge tucked nicely into my folds ofmemory, I prepared the next step of my task. Before my trainer, thedriver, and I departed for the assignment, my makers gave me fouradditional guns. They also equipped me with a solid blackfatigue-like outfit that sported as many pockets as I had guns. Itook out my guns, loaded each one with armor piercing bullets, andput the black mask over my face. I felt an exhilaration I neverexperienced before. I decided I quite enjoyed the rush of epinephrineand the benefits of an elevated arousal. I was, as Peter would say,in the zone.

Just before I entered the dwelling to introduce the inhabitants totheir militarized fate, I heard a piece of information I foundtroubling. The main General, the only man who did not consume anounce of alcohol spoke to the drunken crowd of imbeciles.

"Our informant has provided the information we have feared forsome time. The rebel forces that oppose our ideas have developed avery strategic weapon to defend their beliefs and destroy our own."The room silenced for the first time since I discovered their secretparty. The General continued once all eyes focused on his face.

"Because our battle against the individualistic societies havecontinued for several years, our opposition has finely designed aweapon they feel can fight for their purposes. Our informant venturedto our town with the weapon just a few days ago. He informed us notto worry too much. The weapon is a female human."

The crowd of inebriated men found my sex quite hilarious. Icouldn't help but laugh at their arrogant ignorance. Did not theyunderstand the power of psychology and socialization? If a female israised without the prescribed decorum they feel inherent to the sex,then a female can bring them hell.

"Our informant told us that the female is to search us out. He letus know that she has in fact intercepted our communications, but hecould not clearly explain how she was able to crack our code andsecret frequencies. However, tonight as you depart from here, thinkabout what I have told you here tonight. Take heed and protectyourselves."

"From a girl? Sir, you must be joking." One little man asked withdrool practically oozing from his numbed lips.

"Yes. I know it may be difficult for some of you to believe, but Ibelieve our informant. There is something odd about her that makesher dangerous." The crowd of men laughed and teased the General forfearing the attacks of a female.

"What? Will she attack us with poisonous lipstick?"

"Will she throw explosive compacts at us?"

"Does she have a deadly venereal disease that she plans to give usby f*@#ing us all?" I did not understand all of their jokes. I didnot know what the items of mockery they mentioned could be, but Iassumed they were items women used. When I spoke of the jokes Iheard, one scientist who works with my makers got quite offended. Hetold me that the stereotypes the men held about women were beliefsmen carried about women without realizing that they created thedisparity the genders experience. I asked him if I would have beenoffended had my creation and experiences been different. He told mehe had no doubt that I would have been greatly offended. I suppose Iam glad that I don't understand the things the men said. If I wouldhave gotten upset, I could have blown the entire assignment.

"Generals, you may laugh now, but the woman is here. Our informantgave us the location and room number of her hotel. We sent oursurveillance team there, but only one other man was there." He talkedabout my trainer.

"What happened to him?" Another man who was drunk asked indrunkese.

"He was shot in the head when he refused to reply to any ourquestions. The surveillance team is on their way back to make surethese grounds are safe. The woman could very easily be on her way."That's when I broke through the front door.

"Wrong. The woman is already here!" I yelled at the top of mylungs.

The men whirled around startled by my uninvited presence. Threemen sitting on a couch to the left of the door I bashed through didnot even get to finish turning their heads before the bullet crashedinto their skulls. The second man down happened to be the speaker whowarned of my presence. He was the original target, but when I forcedmyself through the door, an overwhelming urge to terminate all ofthem came over me. I satiated the urge quite efficiently.

Both of my guns emptied their bullets into the flesh of my makers'enemies. The first two guns emptied in half a second. I dropped themand heard them clank onto the marble floor. I noticed the blackmarble after it had been covered in spilled, warm blood.

I reached into my pockets and revealed two more guns. A mandressed in a royal blue suit who was sitting at a piano guided hishand toward his inner pocket. My bullet went through the flesh andbone of his hand and on to his heart before his fingers even touchedthe butt of his gun. As I pulled the trigger in my right hand toshoot the piano man, my left hand took care of three more menstanding near a tabletop decorated with several glass bottles.

Five seconds after I pulled the first trigger all twenty-five mendied from bullets to their heads or hearts. I noticed my breathinghad accelerated, and my heartbeat pounded in my chest. I looked atthe gore, the beauty of my skills and abilities. I relished myperformance for two minutes to allow my physiological reactions tosubside. I picked up my four dropped guns and left.

"You sick b$#@~! How the f*@# could you destroy those men?"

"Lieutenant, Sir. You need to relax."

"I'm not going to relax! She's twisted and sick!"

"What exactly do you mean by b$#@~?"

"You! I mean you are a b$#@~?"

"Sir, you really need to calm down."

"I can't believe you are so disgusting! You must have a screwloose for killing all those men easily and to be proud of what you'vedone!"

"To clarify some things for you, I am not a b$#@~. I am not afemale dog, nor am I in heat. I am proud of what I did because I wastrained to do so. My pride parallels the pride of your kind whopraises themselves when they rape a woman because they have beentrained to do so. Have you ever raped your wife, Sir? Have youever pleaded and pleaded to have sex for so long that she gave in andcomplied? Well, your training just differs from my training. Yourape, I kill."

"YOU F*@#ING B$#@~!!!!!!!"

"Lieutenant, stop!"

"I must admit, her story disgusted me, but I'm a cop. Because I'ma cop I've seen many gruesome scenes that most people would find adifficult time dealing with. Even though I have ample experience inthe gore of human destruction, hate, unrestrained passions, and fury,her air of conceit, of indifference and pride made me sick to mystomach.

"The Lieutenant finally stopped yelling when he saw her bloodstreak down her wrists as she tried to break free from the cuffs. Ihave tried to get out of hand cuffs before, but never hard enough tomake my wrists bleed. I know the pain she felt. But she did not evengrimace. Her face was showing hatred and destruction, but nowherecould I see pain. She gazed at the lieutenant without blinking. Herface solidified an expression of deep inflection. Her lack of fear,her lack of pain scared the s*@~ out of me. She scared the Lieutenanttoo. He had to leave the room.

"I hate to confess this, but I felt sorry for her at that moment.Her intelligence probably excelled that of all of ours put together.She was human, yet distanced from most humans because of things doneunto her that she could not control. We are all driven by certainneeds and our expectations of those needs. I understood at thatmoment, why criminals rarely change. Pedophiles have a disgustingcrave for young children, but we are the ones who think their cravesdisgusting. Ask a pedophile to stop enjoying their sexual desires,and they will give you the finger. Amethyst craved bloodshed. Herdisgusting drive was to kill, to use her special abilities to destroyher maker's enemies. She was created for killing and to kill was whatshe wanted. Such a shame she got caught.

"I say that she got caught, but that is not really the case. Forsome reason or another her makers turned her in. Of course they havedenied her accusations repeatedly, but I'm really starting to believeher. Her journal has provided us with names and dates that thegentlemen who turned her in cannot deny. I think they turned her inbecause they wanted justice for the killing she did. Not to theirenemies, but to one of their own. That is something they could nottolerate, despite how much I could tell they loved her. EspeciallyPeter."

I left the blood-infested house and removed my gloves. All of themen screamed so loud that I could have sworn that I heard them screamfor hours afterwards.

I reloaded the guns outside since the man had mentioned theirsecurity were on their way. I had the honor of meeting them down theroad. When I spotted their headlights five miles away, I quickly puton my gloves and hid behind one of the corpse's cars. There were fourof them, and I took them out quickly. No need to bring attention tothe fact that the meeting ended early.

The walk back to the hotel did not seem as tranquil as before. Ifelt angered by the fact that some pompous idiot pointed the fingerat us. I also felt a strange emptiness when my thoughts happened onall the times I spent with my trainer. A week before the objective,he promised me that he would teach me Ju Jitsu. I know Tae Kwon Do,Kung-fu, Drunken boxing, and almost everything about Ninjitsu. Idwelled on the idea that he would never be able to teach me what I donot know. I felt angered by his death. Revenge took a new meaning forme. I understood for the first time its abstract meaning. I knew thenI wanted it.

I arrived at the hotel before I realized how far I traveled. Ifound my trainer as the man described. I laid my gloved hand on hishead and said a few words of respect. I did not know what else to do.I have read extensively on the practices of peoples and what they dowith their dead. Since I do not believe in any super powerful deity,I simply told him how much I respected all that he did when he wasalive. I hope that what I did was adequate. I guess I will neverknow.

Just as I walked out of the door, the annoying driver appearedintoxicated and practically ran me over in the car. I acted as ifnothing odd occurred and his inebriated mind could not sense that Iwas bluffing. The second he got out of his car my Luger was in hisface. I ordered him to get into the car and that I would drive. Hecomplied, though I did not think I would find him stubborn. I dobelieve he urinated when I whispered into his ear that he was goingto die by hands. I could smell his fear emitting through his poresand his wastes dripping down his leg. I felt at ease and in control.Fear is my favorite emotion. I can smell it, I can see it, I can hearit cry its mortal cries of hope and salvation. I can taste theimpending doom of tissues, emotions, and life. Fear, it smells betterthan sarcasm.

The ride back the way we came was quiet. The noises of the engine,and roar of the tires on asphalt, silenced by engineering providedthe only noise. My ears picked up no transmissions, which proved agood sign. The longer no one knew what disaster had taken place, thelonger I had to escape. Even the traitor's breathing seemed dampened.Only my thoughts raced through the night.

We reached the border just before dawn. The driver reeked out hislast alcohol and sobered up slowly. He had fallen asleep despite histerror, which returned the moment he opened his eyes and saw my gunstill pointed in his face.

"Listen to me a&&hole. One word out of you, one uglyfacial expression, one minute gesture of danger and I will blow youto pieces. If you do not believe me, I am sure I can demonstrate whatthe men you informed danced with last night. Do not try it, do nottry me, and do not think you will live through today. Do not thinkthat I cannot see you when I have to talk to one of the agents. Ihave excellent periphery vision and will be able to see any movementyou make in your face or body. I have no pretense to shoot you infront of the agents, nor do I care if I have to shoot them also.Today is not the day to f*@# with me, so do not."

"I can explain," he desperately tried. Dying men have such funnythings to say.

"No need to explain. I understand fully the actions you chose toperform. I do hope you can comprehend the punishment I will give youfor your behavior. Remember, I can kill you before you can evenrealize that I have hit you. A bullet is even faster."

He did not say a word. I was actually surprised by his behavior atthe border. He did nothing to bring attention to himself or the factthat I had a gun pointed at him in my pocket. After a few cordialquestions we were on our way. He started crying when his last chancefor survival passed him by. However, he somehow grabbed on to afoolish glimpse of hope. After all, I am just a girl.

Three hours after we passed the border, I pulled over to the sideof the road. His fear mounted and started to arouse my instinctsagain. I enjoyed his anxiety immensely. When I got out of the car hetried to lock the door so that I could not get back inside. I punchedthrough the window and grabbed him by the earlobe. He stepped out ofthe car begging for me to let him go. I did, and pointed my silencerat his genitals.

"I am going to ask you a few questions which I believe you willanswer truthfully. If you do not, or if you give me any reason for meto shoot your penis off, I will. Do we have an agreement?"

"Yes," he muttered softly. His fear swirled into my nose andmouth. I salivated at the site of his body temperature. His feartriggered physiological responses that increased his blood flow tocertain parts of his body. I watched the fuzziness around him turneda red humans cannot see, but his body heat talked to me. The color offear speaks to my eyes in a beautiful language I believe allmammalian predators can understand. If I had to categorize myselfinto a easily referenced category, I would call myself death.

"Good. Now, whom did you directly communicate with about mymission?"

"General Eric Sherman. He's the main guy in charge."

"And how much did he pay you for your information?"

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"Just answer me."

"Thirty thousand and freedom once they win."

"How many more factions of Generals are there?"

"I don't know."

"I would highly suggest not lying to me right now. Your futureheirs are riding on your honesty." I added a dramatic nudge to hisscrotum for emphasis. The fuzz fired hotly. My pupils expanded andwelcomed his flame.

"I'm not lying I swear! I don't even think they know who's who.Please, please don't hurt me." He begged and pleaded, but then made adire mistake.

"I believe you. Unfortunately, I cannot let you go. I must takeyou back…" that was all I could get out before I saw his fistheaded for my face. Poor thing did not realize that no matter howfast he may have seemed to the thugs on the street he tried to fight,it would never be fast enough to get past me.

I caught his fist in my hand an inch from my face. I shook my headin disapproval and placed my gun into my pocket. I decided to enjoymy combat training instead. Who needs a gun when you have fast hands?

"That was not very smart of you. However, I am not surprised thatyou made a feeble attempt to regain your safety. Tell me, how fastcan you punch? Do you think you can actually hit me?" He stared at mewith violent eyes. I watched as he fought the urge to call me names,to reclaim his masculinity. Peter always explained to me the power ofmasculinity and its ability to control the actions of men. I assumedthat the man who stared at me with hating eyes fought the samecontrol-battle Peter referred to.

I let go of his hand and placed it back to his waist. I watchedhim carefully to make sure he did not attempt to hit me again. He didnot try. He was paralyzed from the neck down, but I gazed into hiseyes and could see the machine turning. He looked at me and tried tofigure out his next plan of attack.

"There was a great fighter named Bruce Lee who had such speed manymen could not even defend themselves against his attacks," I offeredteasing my next kill. "Do you know of the man I speak of?"

"Yes," he spat.

"Great. I want you to know that if I were alive when Bruce Leealso lived, I could have beaten him. I have a gift that he did not. Ican see in real time. Do you understand me?" He nodded the negativethat surprised me not. "Allow me to demonstrate. Try your hardest tohit me. I will be able to see your fist coming toward me and will beable to stop its motion before you may even know what is occurring.Would you like to try?"

"Not really."

"Just try. If you hit me, you may be able to escape." He looked atme like a cowboy during a western hold up. I scanned his body andattended to his hands. I saw his left fist raise and swing back. Istopped it like I did the first time he tried. He did not stop there.His right fist came at me and I too caught it before it could makecontact. With his fists in my hands, I leaned close to his face. Hiswarm breath patted against my lips and chin in warm gusts. The more Isensed his frustrations the more I enjoyed teasing him.

He swung at me the moment I released his hands. I blocked eachstrike with only one arm. I flaunted my expertise of combatmaneuvers. I felt as though the more I showed him what I was capableof, the more he would understand my passion for his death. He killedthe man responsible for my fighting techniques. Poetic justiceordered that I kill the man using the skills I learned.

It took two hits: one to the temple, and the other fist into hissternum. He fell to the floor gasping for air. I grabbed his greasyhead in my arms and prepared to twist his neck. I thought momentarilyabout sparing his life. He could be an example to the opposition, amessage that they decided to mess with the wrong people. Rationally,I tried to examine the pros and cons of saving the man's life for thetime being. Lucky for him, rationale superceded the urge to kill forrevenge.

"I am going to let you go. I want you to warn the people you workfor that they have met their match. I will destroy every last one ofthem if I must. They will not be able to detect me, they will not beable to stop me. Let them know I am after them all." I picked him upand threw him on to the grassy shoulder. He moaned as he hit theground. I stepped over him and he looked up at me through hazy eyes."Make sure you let them know that a woman will be their downfall. Letthem know that a woman has spared your life even though she is quitecapable of destroying you. Let them know that I mean business andthat none of them will survive."

I jumped into the car and continued on my journey back home. Icould not wait to tell Peter how well I did. I knew he would not wantto hear about my tale, but I wanted him to know how well I had done.I needed him to know that all that he had worked for, and all that mymaker's had strived for worked to their specifications. How little Iknew then. I did not realize at the time that my objectives woulddistance Peter from me. If I had known that I would lose him and hisinformation, I would have kept silent.

Later, I learned that the driver died on the side of the road. Ifelt angered by his weakness and inability to survive. I did not hithim very hard. I wanted him to deliver my message. Damn fool.

"Amethyst, this is Dr. Lynn. We brought her in to talk to youabout your, your whatever changes."

"Thank you, Lieutenant Gonzalez. Amethyst, I am Dr. Lynn. I am aprofessor of Psychology. My specialization is human perception,specifically vision."

"Wonderful. Finally someone who can understand what I am talkingabout."

"Yes. I should be able to understand what you tell me. I shouldalso be able to test the validity of what you claim to experience.Does that sound O.K. to you?"

"Do I have any other option?"

"Um, no. Not really."

"Then I guess it sounds appropriate."

"Well then, let's go ahead and jump on in. We have a lot ofinformation to cover and I don't want to keep you here any longerthan I need to."

"You are so considerate."

"I told you she was a smart a&&."

"That's O.K. Sometimes it's good to be a smart a&&."

Peter and I finished our conversation. I believe I had just turnedtwenty. He entered my room with a dismal frown bending the corners ofhis lips toward the ground. I tried to cheer him by showing him myability to communicate with my computer, but he was not impressed. Iwondered why he stood before me cheerless, and totally unlikehimself. I did not want to ask, but he did not offer me any clue asto what profoundly disturbed him.

"Why do you carry such a sullen look on your face?"

"My father has been diagnosed with prostate cancer. I'm not surehow well he can survive it. He is old."

I did not know the words to express empathy or concern. I couldonly stare at Peter and accept the fact that he was cheerless. Itried to smile, failing to grasp the deep state of his melancholy. Idecided to distract Peter from his illusive thoughts about hisfather.

"Why don't you tell me about all of the perceptual changes yourfather and his colleagues made to me." Instantly a spark of joy lithis eyes with fire. I applauded myself silently for thwarting hisworries without using emotional tactics.

"Okay. That sounds fun. What have I told you before?"

"You told me that my neurons fire faster." I remembered not to askhow the changes made me a more effective killer.

"Oh, yeah. I remember now. Yes, they altered your genes to producemuch thicker myelin sheaths."

"How did they do that?"

"I'm not totally sure. That is a secret they wish to keep from allparties not associated with the first experiments. I do know thatthey found the information through the collaborative efforts of theHuman Genome project. See, periphery nerves are usually lessmyelinated than central nerves. What the scientists did, however, wasmyelinate all of your neurons equally, and added more to them forfaster firing."

"What does all that mean perceptually?"

"Well, you can see in real time, which you already know of course.You are able to see the movement of a bullet, which no human couldever see no matter how hard she or he tried."

"You cannot see in real time?"

"No, no. I wish I could, but I can't. You have often complainedabout the lights flickering, right?"

"Yes."

"Well, those lights flicker too quickly for most humans to see. Weinstead see the average of the flicker, which means in perceptualterms, we see them as on all the time. You can actually see the onand off pattern of the fluorescent lights."

"What about my color vision? I have never heard anyone describeobjects like I do. Does that have something to do with my vision, orsimply that I do not always verbally express myself like you?"

"Most humans have three cone types in their retina. The medium andlong wavelengths are all located in your central fovea. Those conesallow you to perceive reds and greens. The short wavelength cones,which allow for blue, are located about two degrees from the centralfovea. On you, however, you have another cone type. Dispersed amongstyour short wavelength cones, we added a cone that allows you to seelonger wavelengths. You can see infrared."

"That is what causes that fuzz around everything."

"Exactly."

We continued to talk about my quicker reflexes due to the thickermyelinization of my neurons. He remained cheerful until he was calledon the intercom to meet with his father's physician. When he left Icontinued to communicate with my computer.

"I couldn't believe that Amethyst actually decided to talk to Dr.Lynn. All the boys at the station started a new bet. They startedbetting on whether or not she wanted Dr. Lynn. The guys are sodisgusting! The only reason Amethyst is talking to that chick doctoris because Dr. Lynn can understand what Amethyst has been telling usabout. I know she doesn't want Dr. Lynn. She's not that type of girl,at least I don't think so.

"Dr. Lynn did us a great service. She was able to speak withAmethyst on the same smartness level. She was also able to devisesome ways to prove whether or not Amethyst was telling the truth. Dr.Lynn left to her lab to get all of the measuring thingys she needed.That left us some time to further question Amethyst about the murderin question.

"I still cannot explain what Amethyst made me feel. I think thatif I had met her under different circumstances, I probably would haveproposed to her by now. But, things weren't different, and I met herafter she had killed. That just about ends the fantasy bride idea.

"I wonder to myself, mainly cuz the guys would laugh at me if Itold them what I think about, but I wonder what our society would belike if we were all like Amethyst. Would all of us strive to kill, oris that just from her training? Is that autism stuff she talked aboutreally a result of too much incoming information like the scientiststold Amethyst? Why was everyone cloned? Are there more Amethystlooking women running around killing their boyfriends? I decided totake the time to ask Amethyst the questions I thought about when noone was around. That way, only she would know. I just hope shedoesn't laugh at me."

I returned home and informed the scientists of the gains andlosses of my first assignment. Immediately upon my entrance into thefacility, I was stretched across the usual examination table for mydaily exam. They wanted to make sure that I did not suffer from anyserious injuries. Due to all of the perceptual abilities theyconstructed my brain to deal with, my sense of pain is not alwaysprofound. They check me to make sure my pancreas did not dislodgeitself or something severe. I can feel the needle pricks, the poking,the prodding, but I cannot sense pressure, pain, or temperaturebeyond the limits of my epidermis. The scientists are not even surehow they were able to dampen my pain sensitivity. They only know thatabout two weeks ago, my internal pain receptors stopped functioning.

My other trainers and commanders were saddened by the news that afellow trainer died. They laughed at my retelling of how I scared thedriver. I really did not find the humor in my tale, but I laughed togo along. They told me that I already had another assignment tocomplete soon. I was instructed to prepare with three hours ofmeditation and four hours of martial arts training for the next week.I received a new outfit, new guns, and finally, new instructions.

The scientist who always told me about gender differences laughedhysterically when I relayed my messages to the men before I shot thelife out of them. He clapped me on the back and told me he would makeme a feminist in no time. I responded by telling him that I truly didnot understand the importance of gender stereotypes, nor did I wishto practice what he called feminism. His smile left his facemomentarily, but returned when he told me that I could be a feministfor him. I agreed out of my respect for him. I guess that means I amnow a feminist. He gave me several articles to read about women'spositions in our society and others. I must admit, women tend to getshafted, as Peter would say.

My examination ended with a negative report for injuries. I triedto explain that not a single soul touched me, but like I wrotebefore, they do not hear me. After my examination, I spoke to Peter.His father has had a recurrence of prostate cancer. Unfortunately forPeter, the cancer returned and brought on cancer of the liver. Theyare not giving Peter's father a very good prognosis. I believe thescheduled date for his expiration has been set at six months.

I am touched by Peter's concern, and seem to be able tosympathize. I saw his father shortly after my return. His externalfuzz did not look right. Peter, always looking brighter and hotterthan everyone else, really made his father seem dim. The relativityof the visual system frustrates me at times. If I could look atPeter's father without needing other examples near, I could reallysee his true color. Anyhow, I think the doctors who told Peter hisfather only had six months to live were a few months off. I would notbe surprised if he is gone in two or less.

"Lieutenant, Dr. Lynn has returned from her lab with the testingthingys."

"Great. Tell her to go ahead and test Amethyst and to give us therun down of what she found out."

Today I prepared for my next assignment. Before I got the commandsfor my next operation, Peter came to me. He told me something verystrange and difficult for me to truly understand its concept. Peterinformed me that I remind him of a movie character by the name ofTrinity. Trinity is a character in Peter's favorite film. Hedescribed what she looked like, but I was unable to conjure an imageother than my own. He added that she had blue eyes instead of ebony,but that we were similar in many respects. Since I could not watchthe movie to compare us, I only listened to his claims.

The most troubling comment Peter made revolved around love. Heasked me if I had ever been in love. Of course I have not, but hisdescription of love differed from the dictionary's definition. Is itpossible for people to have different understandings of conceptualideas? I suppose it is highly possible since every person hasdifferent perceptual worlds but make the assumption that everyone iscommunicating similar experiences. He admitted that he was in lovewith me. I found myself unable to look at him when he confessed hisaffections for me. His fuzziness that always appeared so muchdifferent from everyone else changed drastically. I worried that hebecame ill because of me. However, the more he rattled on about hisemotions, I realized the change was due to embarrassment. I was thenable to look at him.

I explained to the poor man that I could not love him. We existedin two different worlds that would never coincide in any form. I see,feel, and hear things he cannot. He had freedom and the ability tofeel. I know he knew the impossible relationship he wanted, but Istill felt odd rejecting his offers. I decided to read a few books onrelationships to better understand what he proposed to me that day. Iconfirmed my beliefs about the two different worlds leading tomiscommunication and resentment. I felt relieved, strangely, that thebooks told me to stay away. Peter would have nothing to do with myliterate arguments. He told me that love cannot be prescribed bybooks. I still do not understand what he meant.

"Amethyst, I am so excited to show you the demonstrations Ibrought for us to go over. They will be a lot of fun."

"Okay."

"Well, you've said that you enjoy showing your abilities, right?You will get to show me all that you can do. But I bet you I couldtrick your system a few times."

"That is fine. We can begin as soon as you are ready."

I have killed over three hundred and fifty men. All of the menwere sworn enemies of my makers. I have been awarded several medals.I have received many grateful appreciations, and many new libertiesat my training. I have excelled all of my trainers' abilities andthey are now searching for new ones. Today, I received the mostdifficult task. I have been ordered to kill Peter's father.

"Dr. Lynn was able to test Amethyst without much trouble. Itseemed like Amethyst was right at home being tested. We watchedthrough the two-way mirror. She smiled genuinely for the first timesince she had been brought to the station. I couldn't get over howmuch her face glowed whenever Dr. Lynn would ask her to look atsomething. It was amazing. It was if the woman was made for studies.She enjoyed showing what she could do. She loved looking at pictures,listening to sounds, and everything else Dr. Lynn had her do.

"When they were done, Dr. Lynn came into the room me and theLieutenant were in and tried to explain stuff about Amethyst to us.I'm not sure I got all the jargon she used, but I got the gist.Amethyst in a few words was bad a&&."

"Gentlemen, I want you to know that Amethyst has been telling youthe truth about her abilities."

"Really?"

"Yes, Lieutenant. She is able to see and hear things we needmachines for. I am absolutely thrilled that I got to work with her."

"Dr. Lynn, you may want to remember that she is a killer."

"I understand that, but you must see where I am coming from.Perception is my life work. Amethyst's life is perception. She seesthe world in colors we can only imagine. When she describes somethingshe see using her infrared capabilities she can only describe hersensation as "red" because humans have not made an adequate word toexplain what she sees. It's really quite fascinating. I tell you,science fiction is here today."

"So, is that the fuzz she talks about in her journal thingy?"

"Yes. In fact, I thought that description fits what she sees quitenicely. She can't describe the color, but she can describe the effectit makes on what she is seeing. She was even able to tell me that Ihad just ovulated. She said she could see my temperature rise andcould smell the blood from my ovary."

"What about her hearing?"

"Mr. Gonzalez, I can't even begin to touch on what she can hear.My field of expertise is vision, not hearing, but she can hear reallywell. Not only does she have excellent hearing, who ever made hergave her the ability to process frequencies we hear with the use oftransistors."

"What exactly do you mean?"

"Whoever created her altered her brain's hardwiring to allow herto compute different sounds. A normal human can hear frequenciesbetween 20 to 20,000 hertz. She can hear about thirty times as manydifferent frequencies than we can. It's absolutely amazing."

"How did they change her whatever you called it?"

"Her hardwiring?"

"Yeah, that thing."

"I am not sure. She explained to me that she has been cloned. Didshe tell you all that? Okay, well, somehow the men who cloned herfigured out how to add neurons to process the information shereceives."

"Oh. I get it, she uses more than ten percent of her brain."

"Actually, Lieutenant, that belief is entirely false.Psychologists believe wholly in the saying ‘use it or lose it'.If we only used ten percent of our brain, we would only have tenpercent of our brain. I do believe that somehow they made it possiblefor her to hear things we cannot."

"What about her not feeling pain?"

"I have somewhat of an educated guess on that one. I think thatbecause her perceptual skills have been tweaked, some neurons usuallyused for other functions migrated to different areas to help with theprocessing of information."

"I don't think either one of us really get what you just told us,but go on."

"She can hear radio frequencies, she can see infrared, and shedoes not feel internal pain. She can feel something pierce her skin,but if she had a tummy ache, she would not know. If you ask me,someone did a darn good job at making her a very efficient soldier.She's telling you the truth."

I remember when Peter first told me about the first clones. Out ofthe several hundred used, only two survived the fertilization andbirthing process. When the clones were born, it seemed that all theyhad done worked. My makers made the clones with five cone types,amplified hearing, no sense of pain, and cat-like reflexes. It was nosurprise that by the ages of two, they were all autistic in nature.

Peter explained that if there is too much information, the braincannot handle the input and retreats into itself. He also thoughtthat the makers' manipulations of the thalamus led to adverse effectsin the clones. By order of the main maker, all clones were to beredesigned to only have four cone types, and regular hearing. Thatstill did not work.

The next batch of clones could not learn anything; they were toofascinated by the colors they could perceive. Due to their enhancedvision, many of them were overly curious, leading them to fatalaccidents, broken bones, and other physical problems. Every last oneof them died, and a new batch started.

The final batch was the batch I came from. All alterations hadbeen tested and the most optimal functions altered. I believe theydid a very adequate job of constructing me. I enjoyed most of myinstruction once I was old enough to appreciate my abilities. Now, aswhen I feared the needles, bright lights, and all of the studies, Ihate my position once more.

I could not believe that my order to kill Peter's father waseffective immediately. My assignment was to enter his room and shoothim in the head three times to make sure he died. For the first time,I did not feel excited to perform. I knew what his death would meanto Peter, especially once he found out who did it. I actually feltlike running. I thought that I could run away and they would neverfind me. My visions vanished when I remembered the homing deviceimplanted in my jaw. I struggled to find the initiative to completethe demands placed on me, but it took more than I had.

One afternoon, while the makers, trainers, and Peter were out ontheir weekly golfing match, I grabbed my gun from the closet. I tookspecial care cleaning all of its parts. Meticulously I oiled the gun,cleaned the gun again, and oiled it once more. If Peter's father hadto die, I would use the prettiest weapon to do so. Totally out ofrespect, I put on my assignment gear, and prepared to carry forth myorders.

I crept into his room silently. The old man slept peacefully inhis deathbed, and I actually feared waking him. In the entrance tohis room, I removed my silencer from my pockets. Slowly, I attachedthe silencer to the gun. Following the silencer I removed the darkkilling gloves from the pockets. Once all preparations had beencompleted as trained, I advanced to the side of the man's bed.

"Dr. Lynn told us a lot about Amethyst. We were a little stubbornabout believing the claims the doctor made. But, the more she talkedand explained to us what was going on inside Amethyst's head we hadno choice but to believe the good doc."

"Gentlemen, you must understand Amethyst has a totally differentworld from our own. Humans have a decent sense of smell, darn goodvision, and effective ears. Amethyst has all of those multiplied bymore than I can even conceive. She lives in a perceptual universe nohuman has ever ventured into. Her senses are really all she has."

"What do you mean, all she has?"

"Her makers, as she calls them, did not really introduce her tothe things we were introduced to as children. She was not socializedto want the same structural lives we lead today. In other words,gentlemen, she was not brought up to crave a job, formal education, astrive for morality, or even the desire to have a family. In fact,she couldn't even have a family of her own if she tried. All of herreproductive organs have been removed."

"You mean she had one of those hister-whatever you call ‘em?"

"Hysterectomy. Yeah, it appears that her makers did not want torisk the chance of her reproducing and passing along the geneticalterations they made on her."

"Could her lack of female hormones be the cause of her behavior?"

"If you buy into all that crap about hormones, possibly. But I betthat her differences stem solely from her senses. Our realities arestructured around our perceptions of the world. Her perceptions arealmost flawless. I tested her with illusions. Half of them she couldnot see. The illusions did not work on her."

"What does all that mean, Doc?"

"Illusions are systematic distortions of perception. The only wayshe could not be fooled by the illusions is if she is not hardwiredlike the rest of us. Therefore, I do know she is telling you thetruth. Those men changed her."

I began to perspire the second I passed through the old man'sdoor. I felt for a moment that I would not be able to carry out myvery specific orders, but he opened his eyes and called my name,changing his fate permanently. I walked briskly up to his bed, pulledup my gun and rested the barrel against his temple. Before I pulledthe customized trigger, I did something totally unexpected. I reachedup to my mouth and pulled off my glove. Gently, I reached down andplaced my hand on his hot, sweaty forehead. He looked into my eyesand I stared into his. The answers to some of my questions seemed torest directly behind his bluish irises. I believed I understood loveat that frozen moment in time. I did not feel the love, but I saw aglimpse of love for life. He had made me to preserve the only life heknew. Ironically, I was also the one who ended the only life he knew.

Pulling myself away from the trance his eyes put me in, Iretreated my hand from his forehead. I smiled because I knew not whatelse to do, and I pulled the trigger.

"Amethyst, you are aware that Lieutenant Gonzalez and I seriouslybelieve you should request an attorney before you continue to talk tous. Have you made your decision?"

"I maintain my previous opinion, I do not wish to speak to anattorney. Once my makers come to their normal mental rationality, Ibelieve the charges will be dropped and I will walk out of here andcontinue my training and operations."

"I don't know how to tell you this, but your makers have alreadythrown the book at you. They have adamantly expressed their desire tosee you pay for your actions."

"Even Peter?"

"Yes, Peter most of all. He cried the entire time he spoke to me,but he feels strongly about having you locked up."

"If it is their wishes, then I must obey. I do not request anattorney at this time. Could it be possible for me to use myelectronic journal?"

"I'll have to ask about that one. I'm sure it won't be a problemas long as you don't delete anything."

"To put your nervousness at ease, I will only require that thejournal be brought into this room. As you can see, I am stillhandcuffed and will not be able to delete any information containedin my files."

"That's fair enough. Let me get your computer."

I want you who reads this to know that I will not allow you todetain me further. Even though you may be able to bind my flesh, youcannot bind my mind. I can and will survive all attempts to controlmy thoughts and actions. I am better equipped to survive, and I will.

"After I took Amethyst her computer, I decided to talk more to Dr.Lynn. I wanted to understand more about Amethyst and her abilities. Iguess I'm a little silly, but I thought about what a great cop shecould make. I mean, according to her computer Peter's father orderedher to kill him. She was like, putting him out of his misery. Mybrother is an attorney, I know he'll be able to get her off noproblem.

"Dr. Lynn? Could you tell me more about all that perceptual stuffyou've been talking about?"

"Sure. Who's watching Amethyst?"

"Oh, no one right now. We took her the computer she had with her."

"Aren't you afraid she might get rid of all the evidence in herfiles?"

"Naw, she's hand-cuffed, how could she type?"

"You idiot! She has a computer implant that allows her to typewithout the keys!"

"That's not possible."

"Yes it is totally possible. There was some research that gotpublished about a man who was paralyzed from the neck down. Somescientists put a computer chip in his head that his brain used tomove a cursor around on a computer screen. It is totally possiblethat her makers put one in her head that can help her type."

They stormed into the room they detained me in for hours. Iwatched them, safely perched in the ventilation shaft, scramblearound fruitlessly looking for any sign of my departure. TheLieutenant found the homing device I removed from my lower jaw usingthe scalpel I kept in my bra for emergencies. The nice doctor laughedheartily at the chaos, and even in my hiding I almost joined her.Hours after they discovered I had disappeared, I left the buildingjumping from roof to roof.

I sought out my makers and found them playing their precious gameof golf. I stalked each of them and shot them execution style afterexplaining to them that what they did to me was a gift, and amistake. I killed them all like they taught me. I only saved Peter. Iexplained to him that his father had ordered the kill. He refused,diligently, to believe my information. However, as soon as I showedhim the order signed by his father, he understood and forgave me. Iwalked away that day and have not stopped.

There was a song I listened to the few moments I was allowed to bealone. As I strolled off the golf course with Peter wailing for me tostay, I recalled the song. Without knowing it, the writer couldcompose music that described how I see, how I feel, and what Iexperience. I will send a copy and the rest of this journal to theinteresting men who detained me.