THE GIFT by Patrick McEvoy
She shouldn't be here. Alaena realized that, her conscience tugged at her presence in this room incessantly and then some more, she wasn't exactly adventurous but once she heard ... once she heard, Aleana felt as any and all choice was dragged away in chains by a force called FATE.
So she had found her way into THE ROOM.
Through a little chicanery, a little beguiling, a little subterfuge, and, when the time came (don't think about it, don't think, don't ...), well, assault. Though the singular would probably, should, change into the plural.
Nothing serious she would tell herself as the hours proceeded. Once awakened, they would proceed through their everyday just fuckin' hunkydory. Unlike her, if she didn't find, didn't grab ...
Even if some guards were knocked out, her time here would be limited to several minutes, if not less.
So she gazed at the shelves lined up on the metal wall, just one room in a steely labyrinth holding who knows what else, and tried to determine what she needed exactly. The variety proved to be intimidating, practically to the point of inertia. Helmets, astronaut helmets, stretched out before her in row after row, color after color, shape after shape, all featuring specific traits to whomever wore it. Sparsely labeled, probably only known to the system that created them in the first place. Some were rumored to access different planes. Others could connect to emotions or even lands far and wide. There were those that could access frequencies beyond human perception. More others that could decipher any language.
But one, if acquired, worn, well ... she quickly did a reading with the tech at her disposal, just as quickly dismissed a wide variety of options. The rest ... time passed quickly. Some seemed to align to what she was seeking, but ... the discrepencies ...gone off her possibilities list. No time to condider the ifs. By the time she went through the process, a few helmets lingered, some stylish, some basic, some looking, to her eyes, rather garish and unappealing. Her instinct drove her to the unappealing helmets, touching them when tech couldn't prove a clue. Oh, she heard 'bots stir behind her, knew her time was limited ... make a choice. She could take two, but they didn't come with any damn directions or anything. It'd be an instinctual thing ... so she went with what her touch drove her to. Grabbed that helmet. And raced out of the complex.
Days later, she ventured into her lover's complex. Somewhat surprised that Geanne appeared a little more than obliterated on various substances, she still approached her with the gift-wrapped box feeling various optimistic emotions. Geanne opened the box, proclaimed glee until she was told she should put it on. Once she did ...
Geanne straightened up. Her brainwaves became entwined with Aleana's in an instant.
Looked at Alaena.
"You're the greatest fuckin' high that could happen ..."