English is not my native tongue. Nasedo forced my mouth to shape the guttural sounds...forced the harsh syllables up from my vocal chords...forced them to have meaning.

I vaguely remember that my people seldom spoke aloud. That our minuscule mouths were not made for that purpose...our minds were. Just a light brush with our thoughts and we could convey volumes of emotion...a myriad of doubts and hopes and wishes and fears. Nothing had to be said. It was simply understood. I was understood.

Humans need their tongues. They need words like "No" and "I" and "can't" and "love" and "you". Humans cannot speak with their minds. They cannot open that locked door. They will not. They are too dependent on the steady cadence of their rough vernacular. Too dependent on the steady cadence of their mediocre lives. Even the language I use now is of their making. I cannot even think in other terms.

I have been forced into dependence, into mediocrity. Into humanity.

Am I supposed to thank Nasedo for that? For the first word? For the way he pulled me forth from my pod and said "You are Tess and you have a purpose"? He might as well have said "You are damned." He gave me a name, a set of words, and a destiny...and all of it is made up of lies.

There is no Tess.

There is no meaning in spoken words.

And I have no destiny.

English is not my native tongue. Nasedo forced my mouth to shape the guttural sounds...forced the harsh syllables up from my vocal chords...forced them to have meaning.

Little did he know that they would not have meaning for long.

He forced me to live this life, but he's not here to force me to continue. I could be silent. I could be invisible. I could cease to exist. It wouldn't be hard. Half the battle is won all ready.

Isabel no longer has time for me.

Michael barely tolerates me.

Max only calls me when he needs a yesman to soothe his wounded ego.

But I know it's too late.

I am all ready a flat, faded copy of a human.

I have forgotten how to walk in the past and the present and the future of the mind. I have forgotten what it was like to be accepted, revered, and loved.

I traded that knowledge for the first time they said my name in friendship.

As my voice wraps around the coarse words, the "Hey, Guys. What's up?", and I wait for their noncommittal noises, I hold back the throbbing awareness that the price was too high.

I should never have traded. I should have fought Nasedo. I should have fought Max and Isabel and Michael and their precious little circle of mortal minions.

This isn't worth it.

None of this has been worth it.

But I can't go back.

I have to speak.

I have to laugh.

I have to lie.

Because I have begun to forget my native tongue.

And theirs is all I have.

December 2000.