Paris Ga: Gramarye, A World Apart

[Paris Ga]

<font face="courier new">A plastic casing, a quarter of an inch thick, separated Paris Ga from the rest of the world. The psyhical world that was. He still had material reality. As evidenced by the television in his room. A CD player spinning Remy Zero's Gramarye rests in the corner, the word, "Gramarye", meaning enchanted in Old English. The denotation of the word didn't transcribe Paris's emotional state, however. He was anything but "enchanted", and the events of the past few months had weighed heavy upon his fifteen year old shoulders. Gramarye I've found. Yeah, right.

Paris Ga had SCID (severe combined immune deficency). The disease caused a defect in the child's body. In which, his immune system was incapible of creating very few to actually no immune cells. It fluxuated. This meant, Paris Ga was a hostage in his own world. A viable host for the most empathetic parasite.

He held a book in his hands, entitled: Tao Seer. The context of the written work included a look at the innerlabrynth of the human mind. How we control rational thought, and how rational thought controls us. The thesis of the book was about finding inner peace. By doing so, one would be able to control their own current mental state, as well as, the future, in essence.
Tao Seer wasn't what Paris was reading, however. A small book of collected poetry rest in the book's open face. Matilda. It reminded him of his mother. If he could even remember her, that was. He had always tried.

Matilda
the touch of grace
a tear for heaven
your arms' embrace (17-20).

The CD changed to track nine: Yellow Light. It was primarily background music, although the volume was normal by standard. The generator above, churning to cleanse the air, dumbed down any decibal level which consisted in the room.

Paris put down his book inside a book for the moment. Head, finding the pillow on his mattress. Oh, your darkest days are just beginning now. The clock on the nightstand read, 8:32. The light, fixiated on a.m.. His master would arrive in due time, and then, Paris would spring up from his resting position and pretend to be reading that boring book. It wasn't that she wanted him to read it or anything. He just liked to appear as enlightening to those within his presence. It gave him a inkling of mental courage, power. It was about the aptitude of emotional integrity which the outside world would not allow him to feel. They didn't know him, because they couldn't touch him. The plastic casing made sure of that.


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[Navaria Tarkin]

Three months prior, Navaria had taken on a special Padawan because of an unfortunate demise. Of course, she doubted Paris would like to be thought of as special in the case of his situation.

Ever since being born, the child had to be protected from the very air and people around him. Even from those that loved him dearly. Because of his genetic defect, Paris would be considered special...

Navaria liked to think that he was special because he was sensitive to the Force. With the Force, many possibilities could be had, even miracles could be performed. Not the simple aspects of the Force that most Adept Jedi could accomplish... like lifting of small objects, the incredible speed at which they could parry incoming blaster fire ... To be able to see the future ...

As Navaria entered her Padawan's room, his usual music playing in the background, she wanted the Force to be able to cure Paris' ailment. There must be a way. His former Master, Swan, felt that way and Navaria could not help but feel the same.

The doors closed behind her and steadily she walked forward to the front of the plastic bubble. Paris was reading Tao Seer. To the casual observer, one would think that it was a book that the Padawan loved to no ends.

For an empathic being like Navaria, there was much more to this faceted child that some took for granted.

Lacing her fingers together, she rested her hands in front of her robes.

"Good morning to you, Paris."

When they first met, it was my Padawan, or my student. As they learned about one another, Navaria enjoyed speaking to him informally as she would any of her Padawans.

[Paris Ga]

<font face="courier new">Paris regarded her with a coy smile, the book in hand the moment she had entered the room.

"Morning."

He lowered the book to his side and methodically, in an effortless motion of stealth, placed it beneath his pillow. Oh how proud and humble he must be.

"You didn't bring me breakfast?"

He shook his head in sarcastic manner. The song changed to track nine, Motorcycle. Paris picked up a remote from his bed, and with the click of a button, the CD stopped spinning.</font>

[Navaria Tarkin]

"You know I would never do that."

Navaria responded with a hint of playfulness as the door to Paris' room opened once more.

A serving droid rolled in; its tray full of food and drink for her Padawan.

The Knight watched the droid head up to the plastic casing that was Paris' home.

"Tell me... how was your sleep? Your dreams weren't filled with nightmares again."

She quirked an eyebrow up.

"Were they?"

[Paris Ga]

<font face="courier new">Without any hint, what-so-ever, of introspective consideration Paris stated, "I didn't have any dreams last night." He looked down, and then up again. "But--the last dream I did have involved ewoks. So, you decide." The light tone of his voice indicated he was being facetious, but the dry manner with which he spoke was no indicator.

A door slid shut behind the 'droid. Sanitizing spray, enveloping the stationary automata in the comfy crevis of a five by eight room. The air stood still with the chemical agent, for the duration of eight seconds. Once the santizing chemical agent evaporated, the second door slid open from left to right. The 'droid proceeded to in orderly fashion toward Paris Ga, a cloud of condensation weighing lightly upon it's glass dome. A track, based on motion sensory, pulled the door shut behind the automata.

Paris took the object away from the 'droid, resting it upon a nearby food tray. The 'droid wheeled away, leaving the room by the same route with which it had come in. Doors, locking behind it, for Paris's safety. The mechanism had been built for humans and or 'droids to enter Paris's room. The room itself was consciously active. Meaning, it would decide by the DNA make-up of each individual, whether or not he or she be allowed to pass. As far as 'droids went: they were based, primarily, on the same technology. The consciousness of a 'droid was incapable of hiding it's intentions. The computer, based on consciously active probes, would hack into the 'droid's "consciousness", so to speak, and would read the objects intent with a quick scanning of the device's central mainframe. If it's intentions were sound and admirable, the 'droid was allowed to pass, without descretion.

From the corner of his eye, Paris noticed a stain embeded on his tray. Last night's meal: chicken fried steak. The mere thought of the taste made him shudder, the bitter receptors upon his tongue denying the thought. It was the smell of orange juice which drew his olfactory sense to the moment, and away from the pungent smell of soggy chicken beef, from the cuisine of twelve hours ago. He picked up the glass and held it in his focus. Pulp remained in the glass, floating along side the squishing liquid.

"Pulp. You freshly sqeezed this. See--I notice."

Paris took in a mouthful, smiling as the glass raised, to hide his expression.</font>

[Navaria Tarkin]

"Ewoks?"

She chuckled lightly and left it at that, instead watching the usual routine of the droid entering Paris' world and leaving in the same manner. It knew its orders precisely and would return to the mess hall.

While her student was looking over his meal, Navaria grabbed her usual chair and placed it a foot in front of the plastic barrier. Sitting down, Navaria crossed her legs and rested her hands across her thigh.

"Much better then the frozen packets we get from Arcan. You have been progressing nicely with our lessons in the last few weeks. I thought I'd surprise you. Perhaps one day I could turn you on to fresh namana juice."

Navaria added with a smile.

[Paris Ga]

<font face="courier new">Paris gave her a wry smile as he bit into a piece of dry toast.

"I'll try anything once."

His fork found the scrambled eggs.

"You should eat too, ya know?" Paris took a bite of his eggs. "You're practically a stick over there." Once again, his whites showed, strecthing as far as his lips would allow.</font>

[Navaria Tarkin]

"Then maybe I'll surprise you in the near future with some. If you like fresh fruit, then you'll like namanas."

Tongue in cheek, Navaria found herself eventually mirroring the sheepish grin that her Padawan was giving her.

"I appreciate your concern about my health, Paris."

Her tone dry but humorous at his comment.

"I'll have you know that I ate breakfast already. Granted..."

She motioned to his meal.

"... it's not as hardy as your breakfast but it'll do."

[Paris Ga]

Paris took a sip of his orange juice.

"I bet you had one of those shakes for breakfast?" He shook his head. "Vitamin chocolate."

Paris cut his sausage link in half, and then, took a bite of the smoked meat. Several moments passed. During that duration of time Paris's mood turned somewhat serious.

"Are you like-staying a while? Or is this just a drop-in?"

[Navaria Tarkin]

"No. Fruit as usual."

Navaria's smile faded and she waited, quietly and patiently, for Paris to finish his meal. He would need his strength for today's work.

"Are you like-staying a while? Or is this just a drop-in?"

He said, finally breaking the silence. It was easy to hear his serious tone and Navaria wondered if Paris really wanted her to stay today.

"Staying for awhile. We need to work on your skills today if you are ever to come out of there, Paris. After breakfast that is. Hard to focus on your own body when it's constantly grumbling for food."

[Paris Ga]

He picked at his eggs for a moment, and then pushed his tray aside.

"Why don't we just--get to the training."

[Navaria Tarkin]

She raised a brow.

"You know you need your strength."

[Paris Ga]

"Yeah, but--that's all you're here for, right? The training?"

Paris stood up.

"Let's train. Come on."

He realized he was acting childish. But at fifteen, immaturity was bound to rear it's ugly face from underneath his proud exterior at eradic intervels.

"I had my shot of D this morning. Don't know what it does but, I'm feeling kinda vibrant."

[Navaria Tarkin]

"I would hope by now that you would see that I'm here for more then just ... training."

She replied, standing up, walking casually over to the bubble's entrance. What Navaria was also doing casually was reading Paris through the Force.

Her Padawan was right. His aura was strong today; stronger then usual. The blotches in his aura were not as pronounced but always present.

Keying in a sequence, the door slid opened and Navaria stepped inside. After eight seconds, she was cleared and was now standing face to face with Paris.

"But ... since you are so full of energy, who am I to argue. Training it is. But do promise me ..... no heroics. Everyone has their limits."

Navaria half smiled.

"Even me."

[Paris Ga]

"Funny--me without any weaknesses."

The dimples in his cheeks showed. Her geniality, clearly withering his unbridled, moody sentiment. For several moment his mind held her bonteus smile in a still capture. Maybe she would be there.

[Navaria Tarkin]

"Not a joke."

Her half smile grew to its full length.

"The truth in time. Now ..."

Navaria pulled one of the chairs over to the bed and sat down.

"... let's start with grounding yourself within the Force. Should be quite the challenge with you being so spry this morning."

The quips back and forth were rather fun this morning; and it was a good morning. Navaria's honesty and good intentions for her Padawan were breaking the somber mood that sometimes infected Paris.

[Paris Ga]

Perpetual darkness...

Suddenly, a subtle light flickered, white in hue, clairvoyant in essence; a candle ignited. Symbolically, it was merely a metaphor for lucid dreaming, delving into one's equilibrium, grasping the foundation of one's homestatic environment.

The light, flaming beyond all conceivable texture, illuminated Paris Ga's subconscious. Blood coarsed throughout his veins, arteries, he could feel it, he became it. Paris's right atrium opened, spilling plasma into his right ventricle. The bulging veins hidden beneath his skin, seiving the very essence of matter, traced an entangled jetison of blood cells' , a stream line path toward the thirst of a dire mind. The candle grew stronger, and infinite space became a comfortable, non-formidable habitat. With each moment passing, he actually welcomed it.

Five minutres had passed...

The light was at full strength, it's radiance enveloping, all consuming. His subconscious had become the infinite circle of his conscious mind.

"What would you have me do now?"

The words echoed deep beneath the innerlaberynth of Paris Ga's transparent psyche, sending an all encompasing chill up his spine, the wave of a sensory neuron's deep contusion. He actually felt his central nervous system reacting, the impulses.

[Navaria Tarkin]

Paris immediately went into his meditative trance, as Navaria knew he would. Her quip about Paris having difficulty in calming down really didn't mean much. He was quite adept in letting his body relax so he could immerse himself in the Force. Meditation and control were skills that were important to any Jedi but for Paris ... it was a necessity.

Navaria could feel the Force flowing through him at a steady pace, keeping his mind calm and open. Open for the sensations that normal beings couldn't experience that happened inside their bodies.

"Your arms. Make them numb. Then just your hands .... your fingers ... until all that you cannot feel any longer is your right index finger."

It was a technique in control that Navaria wanted Paris to master ... and he was very close. It was the only ability that Navaria was interested in Paris learning as of late. In the last few sessions, the time for him to accomplish this task had lessened considerably. If he could complete the exercise in the desired time that Navaria wished .... they would move onto the next lesson. It would be a lesson that held familiar groud to Paris but different enough that this preparation was essential.