Command Me To Be Well [Completed]

15 - What makes a Seer

The Seer's credo.

It's so short, yet so cruel.

It's in my blood. It regulates my thoughts. It's deep in my heart.

In a dark corner, where I keep the things I hate the most.

First, to see, but never interact.

I see him, my bright little dot, shining like no one else.

I also hear his voice on the radio. Now he's just one of the squad leaders. One of the nameless targets, moving fast, following the directions I give them.

I am the real commander now. It's only me who sees the greater picture. I could stop him so easily. With just one word, I could make him avoid his fate.

But I don't.

Because that's what makes a Seer.

Second, to recognize everyone's deepest emotions, as if they were written over their forehead, but not to sympathize with them.

He's as fearless as ever. There's no insecurity or apprehension in him. Only a hint of regret. That might be because of me. The idea fills me with dread and happiness at the same time.

If I could, I'd tell him that there's no need. If he's worried for me, for giving me a chance to miss him, he shouldn't. I'll be fine. And if he's worried about the things he failed to tell me, well, he shouldn't, again. In a way, he told me everything I needed to know. Not with words, of course. Choosing a much more primal way of communication. And if he's thinking about what we could have if—

No, I snap myself out of my wandering thoughts. He's not. And I'm not either.

I don't have time to make guesses. Of course, I could know it for sure if I went deeper into his mind. But that would mean that I use my limited resources for selfish purposes. So I refuse to do it.

Because that's what makes a Seer.

Third, to sense people's mood from the distance, as little dots, placed on a map, and decide on their fate without mercy.

I see him as a dot. I decide on his fate. But here's the thing. Mercy is a word. But love is a feeling.

How can a word be stronger than a feeling? People obviously don't know how. Because it's inhuman. But I do. Because I'm inhuman. It's part of my service.

I guide the beautiful bright dot and his little group of volunteers to the queen's nest without hesitation. I make them avoid all the forces that could stop or distract them. I'm drawing a deceptively safe line on the map for them, leading to the middle of the greatest danger. And I do it with expertise. I never waver.

Because that's what makes a Seer.

Fourth, to be as close to a human computer as possible.

I'm good at making calculations.

I guide them to a point of no return. The closest possible to the target. No one in the world could do it more precisely. Neither a human, nor a machine. When they attack, they can hit her from the best angle.

The rest is up to him. And he's the best of the bests.

I don't see it when it happens. I don't see the missiles. I don't see the detonations. But I see the queen's disgusting dot twinkling, and then, after a few seconds, disappearing from my inner map. It's a relief in itself. The vacuum, her malignant thoughts formed in my brain, is vanishing with her too.

I also feel the euphoria the pilots feel. Their dots are lightning up on my map before I hear their cry of triumph.

"They did it," I tell myself, hardly believing it. Then I repeat it louder, so that the main forces know it too. From now on, they are not here to provide a distraction. From now on, they are fighting for the survival of humanity.

Now there is a chance.

Their cheer is louder than my aching heart.

They need my undivided attention. From now on, I fight for the survival of humanity too. It's something I was born to. It's a role I was raised to fulfill. It's the reason for my existence.

It's the moment when I make a difference.

The small squad that killed the queen is still on my map. This is the moment when I have to abandon them. I can't afford to concentrate on targets being so far away, while the fate of a whole race lies in my hands. They are so few. And they went there to die. I knew it from the start.

It's not even a sob. It's just a sharp intake of the breath. And when I breathe out, I let them slip out of my mental grasp too.

There might be some tears too, running down my face, but it doesn't matter. Even the best human computer lags sometimes. A second later I concentrate again on my task and my task only.

Because that's what makes a Seer.

To guide our air forces to victory in the battle for the Gate. An event that will be mentioned in each and every history book.

When the queen dies, the Wasps stop for a second. They cry out in pain. Or at least that's how I imagine them. I see their agony on my inner map.

They lost their leader. But they are sentient creatures. In a second, one of them takes on the role of the dead queen. And when it's killed too, then another. Then another. It's not giving us a real advantage. They are all connected through a collective mind, and they react swiftly.

Now they are desperate. They probably know that they are the last remaining specimens of their kind. So they fight like devils on wings.

Our pilots do the same. They know that they are everyone's last hope, standing between Wasps and men. They are fighting without any regard for their own life. And I am their eyes while they do so. I can't fail them.

I throw up three times.

I make Timur's fingers almost break down, the way I tear at them.

My nose is bleeding, and my whole body is trembling.

But this is our last stand. So I give everything I have. Literally, everything. I also go into some unexpected, nasty maneuvers. It's new for our fighters, and new for the Wasps too. After all, I'm the black queen now. Or a black widow? The only thing that matters, my sting is worse than the Wasps'.

When I lose my physical vision because of the mental overload, I don't even have the strength to worry if I ever regain it. I'm simply relieved that it's not my voice. I don't need my eyes for this. I need my voice, though.

We can't retreat. We fight till the last man standing. Until the very last of the Wasps is dead. It's us or them.

The pain in my head is something I've never experienced before. It's like my skull is filled with molten iron. I don't fight it, I let it burn. I keep mapping as long as my tortured body allows me.

I only let my consciousness slip out of me when I'm sure we've won. Timur gently lays me down on the floor, and returns to the operator's desk. He still has a few targets to finish. The old school way. There can't be survivors amongst the Wasps. We still don't know if they can raise a new queen or not.

My eyes are open now, but all I see is darkness. Before I faint, my last half-coherent thought is that, all in all, I consider myself lucky.

My own nearly fatal exhaustion saved me from witnessing how he died.