“Theories,” Jared said.
“Hypotheses, more accurately,” Cainen said. “I remember many months ago telling Lieutenant Sagan that the reason I thought Boutin’s consciousness didn’t take in you was that his was a mature consciousness, and when it was put into an immature brain that hadn’t had enough experiences, it couldn’t find a grip. But now you have those experiences, don’t you? Seven months at war will season any mind. And perhaps something you experienced acted as a bridge to Boutin’s memories.”
Jared thought back. “My last mission,” he said. “Someone very important to me died. And Boutin’s daughter is dead as well.” Jared didn’t mention the assassination of Vyut Ser to Cainen, and his breakdown as he held the knife that would kill her, but it was in his mind as well.
Cainen nodded his head, showing his understanding of human language included nonverbal signals. “That could have been the moment, indeed.”
“But why didn’t the memories come back then?” Jared asked. “It happened when I was back on Phoenix Station, eating black jellybeans.”
“Remembrance of Things Past,” Wilson said.
Jared looked at Wilson. “What?”
“Actually, In Search of Lost Time is a better translation of the original title,” Wilson said. “It’s a novel by Marcel Proust. The book begins with the main character experiencing a flood of memories from his childhood, brought on by eating some cake he dipped in his tea. Memories and senses are closely tied in humans. Eating those jellybeans could easily have triggered those memories, especially if the jellybeans were significant in some way.”
“I remember saying that they were Zo?’s favorites,” Jared said. “Boutin’s daughter. Her name was Zo?.”
“That might have been enough,” Cainen agreed.
“Maybe you should have some more jellybeans,” Wilson joked.
“I did,” Jared said, seriously. He had asked Colonel Robbins to get him a new bag; he was too embarrassed from his earlier vomiting to ask for one himself. Jared had sat in his new quarters, bag in hand, slowly eating black jellybeans for an hour.
“And?” Wilson asked. Jared just shook his head.
“Let me show you something, Private,” Cainen said, and pressed a button on his keyboard. In the display area of his desk, three small light shows appeared. Cainen pointed to one. “This is a representation of Charles Boutin’s consciousness, a copy of which, thanks to his technological industriousness, we have on file. This next one is a representation of your own consciousness, taken from during your training period.” Jared looked surprised. “Yes, Private, they’ve been keeping tabs on you; you’ve been their science experiment since you were born. But this is just a representation. Unlike Boutin’s consciousness, they don’t have yours on file.
“This third image is your consciousness right now,” Cainen said. “You’re not trained to read these representations, but even to an uninformed eye it is clearly different than either of the other two representations. This is—we think—the first incident of your brain trying to meld what it’s received of Boutin’s consciousness with your own. Yesterday’s incident changed you, probably permanently. Can you feel it?”
Jared thought about it. “I don’t feel any different,” he said, finally. “I have new memories, but I don’t think I’m acting any differently than I usually do.”
“Except for punching out generals,” Wilson pointed out.
“It was an accident,” Jared said.
“No, it wasn’t,” Cainen said, suddenly animated. “This is my point to you, Private. You were born to be one person. You became another. And now, you’re becoming a third—a combination of the first two. If we continue on, if we’re successful, more of who Boutin was will come through. You will change. Your personality could change, perhaps dramatically. Who you will become will be something different from what you are now. I want to make sure you understand this, because I want you to make a choice about whether you want this to happen.”
“A choice?” Jared asked.
“Yes, Private, a choice,” Cainen said. “Which is something you rarely make.” He pointed to Wilson. “Lieutenant Wilson here chose this life: He signed up for the Colonial Defense Forces of his own accord. You, and all your Special Forces kind, were not given that choice. Do you realize, Private, that Special Forces soldiers are slaves? You have no say in whether you fight. You are not allowed to refuse. You’re not even allowed to know that refusal is possible.”