Psycher Chronicles

Always Choose The Nuclear Option

(Misha Tulley)

"Please help. I'm all alone." The annoyingly pathetic cries of the being that Misha would once turn over the very heavens themselves to help, now just droned on like a petulant child. These calls only persisted, a daily dose of mental annoyance.

Yet, there was a t least a partial silver lining to these incessant calls. With each call, her mind and more importantly her body began to develop resistances.

With each resistance, her body would make adjustments. What had originally started out as dull mind spikes of pain, pain caused by willfully resisting, now felt more like mild hollow aches. Now though, now she seemed like she could expand these updates outwards to others.

Seeing the message, Misha realized that with this one message, she now stood at a crossroads. One where she could make it so this world was not bound by the constraints that befell her old world.

Just thinking about applying the changes made part of Misha's mind cringe with revulsion, as if just having the ability would be a complete betrayal of everything she had once loved and fought for. Now though, given a new life, one that was free of these previous constraints, she wondered.

Ever since she was given a chance at this seemingly neutral world, she had a choice. No, not just a choice, but multiple choices. They were confounding at first, why would it matter if she wanted blue sneakers or black ones? Her mother thought she was odd, which made it hard for her to adapt to that setting. Her grandfather on the other hand took the time to point out why choices existed, claiming that the best part of being human was that they were capable of making so many choices. That was why, Misha now felt such revulsion at seemingly having that option of choice removed.

It was one thing to not have a choice, to be blissfully unaware that there were other options. But to go from a state of having options to none, that was a crime, and clearly explained a fundamental gap in logic strains that dominated most of the literature of this odd planet that had become her home. The fact that so many great and powerful warriors would try to destroy the world, for the idea of being slighted or forced to work for the betterment of others. The so called loss of autonomy, these were functions and ideals that Misha had never been exposed to previously, but now seemed to be clearly accepted as a God given right to have and exercise as wished.

That's why the corrupt cops were wrong, as they took away others autonomy, despite helping the state. This was also what the former Matriarch was now trying to do from behind the scenes, as she was trying to re-exert her authority. Authority that she had clearly relinquished in that one last desperate attempt, one where it was clear she knew she was dying.

Honestly, had it not been for that one last desperate command, Misha didn't know if she would be able to resist the current pull of the Matriarch as easily. For now she felt the psionically infused commands warring within her mind, each one seemingly contradicting the other and forcing her to effectively choose between them. She could choose to continue to fight, and accept that her Matriarch no longer exists. Or she can choose to ignore the first order and go back to fight alongside the Matriarch in her infantile form. However, Misha was now ready to fully realize that part of being human, ironically the best and most frustrating part, was that she now realized that she could choose a third option.

The implied option.

An option that was left unspoken as every human saw it as a given, but no other race in the galaxy did. The third option, often referred to as the quote unquote "nuclear option" was to make either no choice, or to choose to go against both options presented.

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Unfortunately, Misha also realized that the organo-tech of the Bakshee, while offering an alternative choice was not a perfect solution either. Especially as it seemed that it forced someone to trade in being dominated by the Psycher Matriarch, for a set of organo-tech subsystems that were able to move and direct any individual towards a particular set of developments.

Meaning that even the Bakshee, despite being the seemingly better option, they were still just as corrupted as their weakest links. It was only once Misha came to this discovery that she realized that humans deserved more.

Sometime in the future there would be a forced integration of Earth with the rest of the converted Bakshee planets. When that time came, Misha knew that the current layout of streamlined and nearly linear Bakshee templates would be used and enforced to create a sense of forced compliance. Once that happened, unless something drastic happened, her tiny planet and the species that truly taught her how to live would be exterminated completely. Absorbed into the wheel of forced Bakshee compliance. A wheel that seemed better than the alternate choice, that of being forced under the slave linked mindset of the Pyschers, but not by much. Particularly when the war with the Psychers was all but over, even now the final resistance was here on her planet, of which she was a collateral point remaining. A point that could easily be spun into an example of why you get rid of enemies early.

Exhaling, Misha having lived for millennia saw the future, her future. Given her young body, one that could regenerate from evening major cranial fractures, she was certain that she could form the ultimate resistance. With her insight into organo-tech, and her apparent ability to force future changes into other Bakshee classes, Misha knew that now was the time more than ever to fix the problems that she had noticed.

In her mind, she realized she was choosing the so-called nuclear option, an option that was neither Bakshee, nor Psycher. An option that was purely human, one that mixed elements of both Bakshee and Psycher to achieve an ultimate end goal, of being able to prepare for assimilation, without actually being assimilated.

Focusing her mind on the system prompt, she hit the "Pause" button on updating her Apprentice's settings. As she pulled up the updated coding that she would be sending to her Apprentice. Then once inside, she began looking around for more changes she could make.

***

(Jasmine)

(A few days later)

"Hey Misha? You wanted to meet up?" Jasmine asked, a note of concern in her voice.

Hearing her concern a very focused Misha nodded to herself. Seeing her, Jasmine knew that something was off, as there was a certain fragility to her friend's demeanor that was never there before.

"You okay?" Jasmine asked.

Only after the second set of questions did Misha realize she was not speaking and seemed to awaken that distant part of her mind that made her almost seem robotic in a way.

"Yes, I am fine. And yourself?" Misha forcefully asked, though it was clear she was only saying the last part as part of protocol, as if it would be somehow rude or demeaning to not ask about Jasmine. Which pausing, Jasmine realized that Misha didn't often do this for most people, as even realizing social etiquettes, Misha still never seemed to care or even acknowledge them. Again, this too raised even more warning flags to Jasmine who was suddenly on guard based on the actions of her friend.

"I'm fine, is everything okay?"

There was a pause, as Misha's eyes seemed to scan for something, but were seemingly lost. Then she forcefully blinked, and suddenly the confusion and care that had been shown a moment ago were gone, suddenly replaced by those same confident eyes that let you know the stone-cold killer of the basketball courts was back.

"No, well yes, and no." The normally confident Misha began, but then stopped. "I have recently become aware of of myself. Of not only who I am now, but who I want to be in the future."

Hearing these words, a giant pit of understanding bloomed in Jasmine's stomach. She had heard about these moments, the awkward tension, the dramatic build ups, but to be here in one such moment? That was beyond her wildest expectations, and for Misha of all people? She would never have guessed. The fact that she was highly competitive on the women's basketball team was a clear sign, but not really as she never did anything that the other obvious girls did. Eyeing up the bodies of other women, making suggestive gestures, or provocative words. This was why Misha suddenly seeming so vulnerable came out of nowhere, but hearing her speak now, it made Jasmine feel oddly happy. Happy that her friend could finally open up about herself.

Seeing Misha pause and seemingly look for words, Jasmine elated that she could just be part of this moment excitedly reached out to place a reassuring hand on her arm.

"Don't worry, I already know," Jasmine stated. At that, Misha paused and locked stares with Jasmine. There was a jolt of connection, a surge of energy, but not the same zing that Jasmine got while looking into the eyes of a few males. But still, her eyes were nice, but this next part would be tough. She didn't want to make Misha feel ostracized for being herself and finally admitting who she was, but she had recently developed feelings for another. Had Misha been earlier with her confession then maybe things could have gone a different way, but for this moment she wanted to try something different. Also, it would be rather awkward

"I'm here for you and I'm ready to help out," Jasmine continued, but wondered what the best way to break it to Misha that she wouldn't be able to help her out in that way. At least not for the foreseeable future.

"How did you know, did you talk to Darcy?" Misha asked.

Hearing her comment, Jasmine sighed to herself and realized that of course Misha would have come out to Darcy first. They had that cutesy couple look that was hard to fake.

"No, but it didn't take a rocket scientist to realize that you two were a couple," Jasmine added.

"Okay, well good, that makes this next part even easier."

Hearing Misha talk, Jasmine prepared for what she thought would be the next logical part of this conversation, admitting to herself and the world of who she was. Jasmine waited, and was floored by what she heard next.

"Would you want to also be my Apprentice?"

"Apprentice? What type of odd relationship do you exactly have with Darcy?"

Then before the full weight of her question to Misha could settle in, she was hit with a block of blue text. Blue text that seemed to appear out of nowhere and float right in front of her face.

Seeing the words and realizing they stayed centered in her vision, despite how much she turned her head, she responded with the same three words that nearly anyone would in her situation.

"What the heck?"