Aye, Calypso!

The girl was hunched over a table in the center of the room, gently pushing paper boats around a splotch of blue paint. When Becket’s watch struck ten she straightened up, brushed a lock of dark hair out of her face, and stared through one-way mirror’s reflective surface, right at him.

Without blinking she began to speak, “it’s Thursday, doctor, we both know what that means. “

Becket sighed, she was right. For whatever god-awful reason, they still want weekly interviews. Don’t they know this only antagonizes her? She’s not stupid, she knows this is a prison and—

“Are you going to pretend I’m human, or just stand there and watch me, like a fish in a bowl?” she interrupted.

“I hate Thursdays,” Becket mumbled. Her gaze followed Becket as he walked out of the observation room.

He stood outside her cell, they called it an isolation room, but he preferred to call it what it was. Becket checked one last time to make sure he didn’t bring anything dangerous in. His glasses were swapped for a pair of contacts; his tie and lab coat were neatly folded and placed in the tray, his watch—was still on his wrist.

 Becket always hated giving up his watch; he liked the consistency it gave him, every second followed the last, every minute just like its predecessor. Its slow steady rhythm driving back-- Becket brushed the thought away, chiding himself for allowing his imagination to run away. In this place that could be a dangerous thing. After taking a deep breath, Becket undid the worn titanium clasp and placed his watch in the tray. He nodded to the waiting guard, who unlocked the heavy steel door.

By the time Becket entered the room, the girl was, again, intently focused on the boats.  “How are you doing this morning, Hazel?” Becket asked, slowly taking a seat across from her. “May I see one of your boats?”

Without looking up Hazel shook her head. “Hazel, can you please talk to me? I would really like to talk to you” Becket lied, in his most soothing voice.

“Ask about the boats, I know you’re thinking it,” Hazel replied, still intently focused on the toys.

“Okay, Hazel can you tell me about the boats?”

“I’ve begun to dream again.”

“I wasn’t aware that you--,” Becket interrupted.

Hazel continued, ignoring him, “I can’t remember when I stopped; it must have been long ago.

I dreamt of places far away, vast empty plains and teeming forests, of deep abysses and mountainous swells, and I dreamt of the wind, rippling through my hair.

I dreamt of people, in all their colors and forms. They were so beautiful, peaceful, and simple. Content with living their lives, when one of them died there was no mourning or sadness; death was a reality for them. How different they were from you.  And I dreamt of a woman.”

“Can you tell me about this woman?”

Hazel stopped playing with the boats and for a second Becket saw them roll and sway, like a fleet of real ships. “She was born when the world was still young, the sea was her mother carrying her on the winds and tides; like a piece of flotsam. As she grew her mother became her playground, the waves that carried her as an infant became her toys. When that girl became a woman her playground became a kingdom, and she became a queen.”

Though she was motionless, Hazel’s hair began to sway as a slight breeze, tinged with salt, started blowing. Becket glanced at the window. Seeing it was still tightly shut he hastily scribbled some notes and turned to leave, muttering. “I believe that will be all for today, thank y—“

“Sit down Doctor,” Hazel commanded, looking up from the table. “My dream is not yet told.”

At those words Becket turned around, with the intention of reprimanding her, then her saw her eyes. The steely gray had been replaced bright blue like- the analogy sprung to his mind unbidden- still water off a tropical beach.  When he saw those eyes, so out of place on her dark and weathered face; Becket found himself unable to get up from his chair, unable to call out. He was completely at her mercy.

She’s more powerful than we realized, is there any use in playing dumb anymore? Of course there is, I’m still alive because, she wants something from me.

Without breaking eye contact Hazel spoke again, this time the meek dreaminess that had been in her voice before was gone, replaced with something Becket couldn’t recognize. “The queen was lonely, so very lonely, her subjects were numerous and some were intelligent, but they were still just animals. I dreamt of the first time she saw them, clad in skins and carrying sticks, little more than animals, crossing her kingdom in fragile pieces of their homes.  She watched them and they seemed to watch her in return.

They pleaded for her help, to return a loved one, to provide food, or to give them fortune. And she answered; she was a friend to all and a servant to none.  Soon they began to build monuments and temples, offer sacrifices and prayers, all to her. She showed them how to improve their tools, so they could travel faster and farther across he lands. With her blessing they became more powerful; their, no . . . her, creations carried them to lands on the distant borders of her kingdom. She barely noticed when the temples fell into ruin and the sacrifices stopped coming, she had no need of material things, their prayers were enough.”  

The distant sound of waves crashing against a hull echoed throughout the room. Hazel continued to speak, as if she hadn’t heard anything. “Soon the prayers stopped as well. They had grown so much in such a short time, they no longer needed her. They no longer needed me.”

She slammed her fist into the splotch of paint, crushing one of the boats and splattering paint around the room. As Becket wiped some paint off his face with he couldn’t help but notice it smelled strongly of salt water. 

Thoughts, intermingled with questions, raced in Becket’s mind. She knows. Is it the boats? Or could it be the different medication? How much of her power does she have? Does she remember what we did? The answers quickly followed, possibly, possibly, I don’t know, but even if she does escape Kansas is a long way from any bodies of water, that’s why they put here. Gathering his thoughts Becket finally responded, “Hazel, you need to calm down. I’m here to help you.”

That’s not my name, Doctor.” At the word “doctor” the previously gentle breeze became a roaring wind; Becket felt the cold spray on his face and the taste the bitter salt in his mouth.

“Your name is Hazel North, you’re from Branson Missouri. You voluntarily checked yourself in here after your condition became unmanageable. I really do want to help you, just tell me why you’re angry.”

“My name is not Hazel!” She jumped to her feet. The wind blew harder and room grew darker, as a large cloud covered the sun.

That’s what she’s looking for, this entire episode is just a power play, trying to scare me into backing down. We - I- am in control here, not her; she lost that right long ago. Becket took a deep breath. “Can you tell me about the rest of your dream?”

“Don’t change the subject! Admit it, you know my name!” As she howled the wind gave way to driving rain, soaking Becket to his core.

Becket rubbed the spot where his watch should have been.  Think about something else, anything else. I can’t let her --  “Tell me about the rest of your dream and then-"

A malignant smile spread across her face. “I see you like to bargain, doctor, like so many men before you, you think you can bargain with the sea.” She got up and began to stalk slowly across the wet floor, fingers running along the edge of the table.  

“You already know the end of my dream. Soon I was nothing but a myth, a fairytale, a story for children; if only it had remained that way.” Becket could feel her cold fingers running along the back of his neck.

“In their infinite wisdom mankind decided there was no more room on ‘their’ planet for me. So I was chased, hunted like an animal. For ten years they chased me I was bound in chains and sent here, far from my kingdom, you gave me drugs so I would forget, and you put lies in my head to cover up my past.” Returning to her original place she threw the heavy table out of the way, and advanced upon Becket.

 Standing nearly seven feet tall she towered over him, eyes glowing with an unearthly light. In a voice like distant thunder she boomed, “I am Neptune, Njord and Nabria. I am Mizuchi, Mazu and the Mami Watta. I am Aipaloovik, Acionna and Aegaeon.  I am Poseidon and Davy Jones. I am Calypso!” At the last word the room fell away, revealing a dark sea in the grip of a massive storm. She was standing on the crest of a massive wave, reveling in the glory of the storm.

The icy water enveloped Becket, freezing his joints, and leaving him gasping for breath as he sank into the abyss.  Becket closed his eyes. From somewhere far away he heard a slow steady ticking, it grew louder and louder until his feet hit something solid.

Then . . . nothing. They were back in the room, sitting at the plain, white, table.  Hazel was, once again, intently studying the boats in front of her, Becket was about to say something when she began to speak. “You can’t control the sea, doctor. No matter how much you try it will never be safe, dependable, where every moment follows the last in perfect order, there will always be chaos.”

Becket quietly got up from his chair and walked out of the room, the guard already had a towel waiting for him. When he went to pick up his watch, Becket found it had stopped. When he opened up the back he saw the intricate machinery had rusted together. As if it had been in the ocean for a very long time.