The Universal Family

Posted on 09 Dec 2021 @ 6:49pm by Commander Calliope Zahn
Edited on on 09 Dec 2021 @ 8:44pm

Mission: M2 - Sanctuary
Location: Kalaran Seed Vault, Diplomatic Party
Timeline: Immediately Following "Beginning of the End"
972 words - 1.9 OF Standard Post Measure

Normally Calliope would have taken the time to appreciate the detailed tilework, hand cast, custom fitted and glaze colorized with naturally mined and hand crushed minerals, each one set and cemented with skill in old style on the walls trimmed out of the caverns to create the washroom. They illustrated a long parade of desert plantlife in vivid naturally occurring tones. A catalog of possibilities contained in the seed vault itself. There was a short maze of such muralled walls leading into the space reserved for those of the female persuasion to relieve and refresh themselves. There were other party attendees, coming and going through the hall maze leading down into the washroom. The slightly ramped flooring caused Calliope to reach out to support herself with her hand on the rich, decorative ceramic tile. She couldn’t see any of it as her entire focus was just on keeping her stomach long enough for propriety's sake, the entire world blurry and swaying through the squint of her eyes. She could barely focus enough to navigate around the other women who seemed to sense her distress and more or less make way for her in her growing emergency.

It felt as if she would barely make it in time to one of the privacy stalls, designed with 24th century privacy screening that somehow subtly complimented the traditional tile work. Maybe Calliope would have appreciated the seamless selection of fixtures more if she weren’t currently leaning over one of them.

The rest of the washroom attendees seemed to hush and hurry themselves out as the sound of Calliope’s choking reverberated.

All other muscles shook with weakness as she gripped the basin. Between waves she prayed reflexively for relief in meager cries of “Oh god, please god…” until the next wave of gagging took over. She regretted every last bite of party food she’d partaken. “Oh, god, why?”

Eagerly seeking more air, she peeled out of her dress jacket and pulled open her collar until he had stripped down to her undershirt before she found she could take in an unrestrained breath. As the worst of it passed, she finally lay on the cool tile, a sobbing puddle, seeking relief from pain and embarrassment in the unyielding floor.

“Are you in need of help?”

Calliope reached up limply and opened the privacy screen slightly to see who was asking. She didn’t have the energy to try to preserve her own dignity in straightening herself or cleaning up the spatter. “No,” she said to the kindly looking woman in the colorful robe and striped stole. Calliope vaguely recognized the vestments as a variation on ones she had seen in her childhood, from the church she had once attended with her friend. “Thank you,” she managed to add as she started to shut the door again, but the other woman was too fast, inserting her hand, and too strong versus Calliope’s weakened arms.

“It’s alright dear.” The silver headed woman assured her, already having a cool rag in her hand to lay across Calliope’s forehead. She helped Calliope out of the stall. There, seemingly waiting for her were three younger women in their own vestments of the church and they each began to straighten her out. Calliope let them sort and nurse her, the embarrassment giving way to relief, as she was handed a glass of cool water and helped to reach the sink to swish the acid from her mouth. Someone pulled a small stool under her knees and she knelt.

As she looked up at the four kindly, concerned faces reflected around her in the mirror, she was struck with the difference between their care and the four who had just made a show of intimidating her. She wasn’t sure what to make of it, the religious push and pull of the heavenly and the hellish. She splashed her face over the faucet while a young lady gently rubbed her back.

“Recovering from an addiction is quite challenging.” One of them said. Calliope’s head came around slowly, eyes sharply focused now on the slight, blonde woman who had spoken.

“Are you… a telepath?” Calliope asked.

The elder shook her silvered head. “Anita has a gift of discernment.”

“You’re all from the Universal Family Church of… of…” Calliope tried to remember.

“Almost. It’s the Church of the Universal Family. You know of us?”

“I recognize your robes. I used to attend a branch on my colony.” Calliope admitted. “When I was ten.”

“She’s a child of the church!” One of them whispered. “I could tell there was a kindred spirit in the place.”

Calliope’s face quirked involuntarily. “I never committed or anything. I didn’t get a spiritual sign.”

“Everyone who prays in earnest receives an answer.” One of the sisters said enthusiastically. “Perhaps you didn’t have enough faith to recognize it.”

Calliope was gobsmacked by that. She remembered being a kid and waiting for that promised gift with incredible palpability. If that hadn’t been real faith, then what was?

"Here, take this." Anita put her own robe around Calliope to replace the soiled uniform jacket and Calliope couldn’t rectify the strange reflection of herself wearing it. Maybe she could have once, as a child, long ago, but not any more. “Let us pray for you.” Anita looked so earnest.

“What if I don’t have enough faith to be healed?” Calliope retorted sharply toward the young lady before she could check the vitriol in her heart. Anita looked like she’d been snake bitten.

Upset, Calliope backed away from them, still wearing the church robe and snatching the cane to help her with her unstable flight back to the party. Back to Lance. Back to something that made sense.