Silent Betrayal

Mary sat in her speech therapist's outer office and watched a short video clip on her phone. It made her cry. She longed to be a better artist. She was an amateur photographer and writer. She curated her video lessons to improve herself. This one had a key point. It told her no matter how inspiring other artists were, don’t imitate them.

“Find your own voice! It insisted.” She felt betrayed: she had no voice. She was mute from birth.

Unlike fellow students in the schools, she attended from time to time, she had perfect hearing. She admired and was enthusiastic about the human voice. She was literate and excelled in many ways. She knew that in this instance, “voice” was metaphorical. But still, it stabbed her heart.

Her own genetics betrayed her. The execution of her own genetic code left her speechless.

She betrayed herself with negative thoughts. She often felt that she was an imposter among better artists.

When her younger brother was born, they named him Norm. She thought it was short for Norman, but suspected it was short for “Normal.” As her little brother grew up, he made all the cute noises, cooing and making wonderful baby noises. Her parents adored him. She felt less than, felt like a defect, and felt betrayed.

Boisterous children's loudness betrayed their disruptive behavior. Her muteness betrayed her. She felt she was less for her silence. She ached for the ability to utter anything about her joys, passions, or even her very existence.

It seemed she could trust no one, not even herself. She felt hurt, angered, and very determined.

Over the years she did her best to adapt. As a toddler, her parents gave her a digital tablet. She learned to use pictures of food to say she was hungry. She used an image of a book to ask for storytime. She loved hearing her mother’s voice as she read to her. When a little older, she used a menu of short text phrases for immediate needs. As she matured, her needs made her create beautifully written text. She used text-to-voice applications and other software tools to push against her limitation.

After years of working as a hack writer to earn up and save a few dollars at a time, she had enough to bank it all on this surgery. She hoped it would at last give her the ordinary but precious gift; the ability to speak.

Her father sat next to her in the waiting area. “Mary, you need this. You’ve wanted this for a lifetime. We will miss you. I hope you don’t forget us during your treatment.” Her fathers' words surprised her. There was caring underneath his usual stoic nature.

She swiped an icon on her tablet computer, and it produced a happy face. Her thoughts flew by faster than any words she would ever voice. She had no personal experience going from the speed of thought to a human voice. She hoped that someday she would. For now, all she could do was swipe over the tablet surface. She made the text “Love you Dad” appear.

The nurse called her in, Dad gave a reluctant wave and smiled.

Her therapist was sitting in front of her. He began: “We will do your surgery tomorrow. We will add some tissue to where the vocal cords should be. But won't be able to speak for a long time. You will have to learn. You will have to strengthen. You will get excellent help and therapy.

Off the Western Central coast of Australia, there is a small colony of people who have experience with such issues. They will take you in for about a year and help you discover your voice. Not metaphorically, but physically as an infant does. I cannot explain much about them. They are a mystery. Their program looks excellent. Be cautious about disclosing your medical situation. Your case may be profoundly different from what they are used to. That difference might get you in trouble.

You will board a plane after the procedure tomorrow. You will be in quarantine for a time and must not do anything to endanger the delicate tissues we will implant.

Do you understand?”

She nodded a yes and sighed.

“This is very exclusive. In fact, it’s experimental. The colony has amassed many vocal performances for learning and inspiration. It’s a working clinic. They treat “their own” with success and they will inspire you and may even frustrate you. Be patient and be a friend to them. “

Mary texted him “You mean they could reject me?”

“Yes,” he replied. Another case like yours was rebellious and critical of their culture. They vanished. Vanished without a trace!”

“You have a passion for achieving your goal and see it as very important, right?”

She texted back “Yes, I cannot go on like I am. It’s worth everything to me.”

“Trust the process. I know you can do this.”

The next day, Mary was in a hospital room being prepped. She had her tablet computer primed with key phrases she thought she would need. In a hospital gown, she lay in the bed with an IV inserted in her right arm. She gestured on the tablet as the nurse came in. Mary made the tablet read “How long will I be out?”

“For at least 4 hours", the nurse said. “Surgery on your throat is only part of the procedure. Trust the process.” The staff wheeled her into the operating area. Soon the lovely cocktail of drugs in her IV sent her off on a comfortable sleep.

Mary awoke to a strange noise she heard in her sleep. The room looked different. A nurse attendant came in, looked at her, and in a very faint whisper said “I am a nurse assistant. I came to calm you down because you were actually making peculiar noises in your sleep. I guess your vocal cords are starting to do their work!

I am at the low end of the pecking order here and I need your help. In return, I will protect you. ”

Mary motioned for her electronic tablet and typed a few words and showed the screen “What do you mean protect me?”

The nurse replied “Because I know you are not one of us. That’s an exception to our strict rules. You are a newcomer and have had vocal repairs.”

Mary nodded and looked puzzled.

The nurse continued “If you have vocal artistic works on your electronic device, I want you to share them with me. We have libraries but they are selective and don’t include more up-to-date selections of vocal artists.”

Mary gave her a “thumbs up gesture”. The nurse looked puzzled. Mary guessed this was not a good sign in this culture. So, she typed “OK.” On the tablet. The nurse smiled.

The weather bug on Mary's tablet showed different temperatures from her home. Daily highs and lows were different from her home in a more temperate climate. The humidity was way higher than at home. It almost felt swampy, and the smells were even more intense. Her throat seemed moister. Often at home, she’d wake up with a dry mouth, but not today. There were orchids and tropical plants in the room. She gestured at them and shrugged toward the nurse.

The nurse replied, “This is a very damp climate. The humidity helps to keep your vocal cords, our vocal cords, from getting dehydrated. The IV in your arm will keep you hydrated also but from the inside, even though you don’t feel thirsty.”

Mary looked around. She saw sliding glass doors covered with curtains. When she moved the curtains back, she saw an amazing array of tropical plants. One she recognized as the "Swiss Cheese Plant". She'd seen one in an arboretum once. This was almost 10 feet tall and had a large trunk. She had never seen one like that before. No wonder, she thought, its other name was "Monstera Deliciousa". Wherever she was, it looked like a jungle outdoors.

A doctor walked into the room, the nurse gave him a glance, and motioned Mary back into bed. Several other medical staff came in. The doctor held a strange-looking instrument in his hand. "We need to run some tests now. Lay down and lay still," he ordered.

They secured her with restraints in her bed. Why didn’t she notice those before? Once she was a total captive, they hovered over her. She took a deep breath and held it ready to scream (though she didn’t think she knew how). Then, the doctor and several other nurses hurried to her. They blocked her mouth and injected a drug.

When she woke again, her nurse walked up to her looking worried. “We know even more about you now. You should not be here. I can help you. They covered your mouth and sedated you to keep you from harm. You might have succeeded in screaming. You would not have screamed for long though. You might have ripped your fragile vocal cords out. It would have been a pity to damage them before they have had a chance to develop and get stronger.”

Mary looked relieved. “You won’t betray me? “ Her tablet said. “No said the nurse, we have a deal, right?” Mary nodded.

She was wondering. This is a strange place. Is there anyone I can trust. Is there anyone who won’t betray me?

If this nurse was taking her side, whatever that meant, her nurse was also taking a risk to protect her. Mary realized that something about her was silently betraying her. With no choice, she had to trust the nurse.

Over many weeks Mary and her nurse learned together. They listened to recordings she kept on her tablet. Her nurse looked enraptured by the songs and great speeches. Mary's recordings thrilled them and provided practice samples. She also went with Mary to therapy sessions for her usual voice strengthening.

They were the usual and often boring exercises. Such as making the “Ahhhh” sound for as long and loudly as possible. She had to correct posture and breathing. She got to voice her own choice of favorite sentences. She was learning to speak for the very first time ever.   She was improving. She was becoming good.

Mary and her nurse worked together and mostly in isolation from the larger group. Once she and her nurse went to a lunch meeting with the group and she felt very uncomfortable. They looked at her and gestured toward her. They looked frustrated as if they had said something to her, but she had not answered.

One evening after 6 months, her nurse came in and asked, “Can’t you get more audio samples and more apps. Aren’t these a little out of date?” Mary said “ I need to download those somewhere. Is there a place here that would let me do that?”

The nurse looked apprehensive. “We will need to sneak into a restricted area. I am not allowed in. Neither of us should be in there, especially you.”

That night they snuck in. They found the internet access they needed and were finding and downloading lots of new and useful material. On the way out, they passed by the security checkpoint in the main lobby. Mary noticed a strange object. I looked like an old phonograph record. She was gazing at it when the alarms went off. The guards surrounded them and seized them before reaching a safe space.

The next day there was a trial.

There she stood with her nurse, up for judgment by a tribunal. The judges were scowling at them both. “How do you plead to security violations?”

The tribunal glanced at her nurse and after a moment they all shook their heads and gave disapproving looks. Then Mary used the digital tablet to text “We did it to get software that would help me in my vocal rehabilitation. And I am helping my nurse enlarge her library of vocal performances. I’m willing to share.” Then in a very weak near whisper, she uttered “I’m so sorry, you’ve done so much to help me, and I am acting ungrateful.”

The oldest member of the tribunal replied ”We will think about it and decide. We should banish you both to the wilds outside.”

The tribunal continued to watch them and gaze at them for several more minutes. “You mean you have nothing to add?”

Mary’s thoughts raced on. The speed of thought exceeds the speed of the human voice or of Mary’s typing speed. She texted “Only that I want to train my newly installed vocal cords and learn how to use them.”

“Wait, you mean you didn’t have vocal cords until before arriving here? That is very unusual. All of us have fully grown vocal cords but our government prohibited their use.”

Mary's throat was aching from the effort to even whisper. All she could do was gesture her amazement and lack of understanding.

“ I can say no more than this; our ancestors were like you were, but a mutation gave us working vocal cords. As we learned to vocalize, we became outcasts. We developed a powerful desire to use the spoken word as an artform. Only for artistic reasons. Do you understand?

Mary looked more puzzled. They gazed in her direction.

Next morning her nurse came in; “We were very lucky this time. This is serious advice. Work on your goals. I know you can achieve them. Stop being curious about things that do not concern you. I cannot explain the things you cannot understand. You are proving what is possible. You are proving it to us and to yourself. Be proud of that. Trust the process.”

They worked on. At the one-year point as promised, Mary flew home.

Her voice was working. “Mom, Dad I am glad to be back. I am feeling much better and am thrilled to be able to speak. I could almost sing!”

Dad replied, “You still look perplexed about your experience. Let it go. I know you don’t want to trust anyone but try.”

A week later Mary was again in the waiting room of her speech therapist doctor. This was her follow-up meeting. She took a seat in the room. They took vital signs and the doctor entered.

“Well Mary, we can discharge you from treatment. We could even say you are normal. Is that ok."

This time she was speechless but for a different reason.

“Do you have any questions,” the doctor added.

“Well, yes, I worked with a kind nursing assistant. She spoke softly but well of me. She protected me. Much of what I saw there just didn’t’ make sense.”

“Well, the retreat has closed. It is gone, vanished. It’s as though it never existed.

But here is this. It’s a letter to you marked private. Let me give it to you and if you want to share, I’m all ears. Let me hear more of that lovely voice of yours.” Mary took the letter and promised she would share what she could if she could. She owed much of her recovery to the program and to the one and only person who she trusted. She feared betrayal, but it never came. Whatever betrayed Mary was a secret they kept together.

The letter held answers.

“Dear Mary,

By the time you get this, I and my co-workers will be far away. Our clinic shut down. It is gone, and thanks to you and our work together we could go home at last. We had a huge legal and cultural battle with our government. We won it because we could prove the value of the spoken word.

The mutation that gave us vocal cords made us outcasts. We knew that vocalization was a new and beautiful extension of expression.

Only you fully understood what a gift that is. You were an incredibly unique stranger among us with your own nature and experience. We thought we understood it. We did not!

Our race is telepathic. That is why we gave you those funny looks. We tried to communicate with you as we always do all the time every day with our own people, but you never answered.

Communicating at the speed of thought is fast and efficient.

Ironically, your lack of it may, we discovered, be a benefit not a only a deficit.

Although I knew you were an outsider, you won me over. I realized our people had the gift and were not allowed to use it, while you did not have the gift from birth. And risked everything to get it.

Our people owe you much. You inspired us.

That phonograph record you saw in the security lobby was a replica. One of our probes encountered the real one on what you call Voyager 2. By the time we found it, it was well outside your home solar system. It led us to you.

It changed us and our world. We were glad to help your world even if it was only a few lives at a time. You helped us discover our voice. Not as an appendage to thought transference but as a new to us beautiful thing on its own merit.

Until we meet again: Go in Peace.

Georgette (well that is as close as I can vocalize my home name).”

Mary realized that sometimes a betrayal could be a good thing.