"See if you can get this. Your identity is really a concept that you carry around. It's all attachments. You attach yourself to your name, to the cards in your wallet, to your job, to everything in your life-the car you drive, who you live with, who your parents were, what your rank is, where you come from, what school you went to, what your ambitions are, what your zodiac sign is, what church you go to, what branch of therapy you're currently in-did I leave anything out?"
"Doesn't sound like it."
"But that's not who you really are, is it? You could change any of those things-or all of them-and you'd still be the same self, the same person experiencing. Right?"
"All right, yeah. I got that."
"The self is what experiences the identity, Jim. Identity is only memory. It's the cumulative sense of all that stuff in your data banks. If I were to take away your memories, I'd be robbing you of your identity, but you'd still be the same person experiencing."
"But-I know I'm me now," I said, tapping my chest. "I know who I am-"
"You know your attachments. When I ask you who you are, where do you go to look? When I ask you where you went to school, who your parents were, what kind of terminal you work on, where do you look?"
"Uh-oh, I see. In my memory."
"Right," she grinned. "So if I took away your memory, you wouldn't know who you were, would you?"
"I'd be awfully confused."
"Sure. In your case, that'd be just like normal. But you see the point. If you had no memory, you'd have no identity. You'd have to build a whole new one, wouldn't you?"
I shrugged. "Yeah, sure."
"Now if I gave you all of my memories, if I could just pour them into your head, you'd think you were me, wouldn't you?"
"Yeah. I can see that."
But you'd still be you, the same person experiencing it all. You'd just be experiencing a different identity now, right?"
"Okay, I got it."
"Good." She leaned back against the sofa and relaxed. "Well, that's what this whole thing is all about. The self-that being inside-that's who you really are. A telepath needs to know that or he'll go crazy. That's what all that training is really about. I had to experience my identity as a thing apart from my self so I could know my self. Jim," she said, with frightening candor, "I can never be my old identity again-because I know how artificial it was in the first place. In my training, I learned how I made it up. I looked at all my old memories. I saw how it all happened and it freed me!
"They tell you when you start your training that you're going to have to give up that thing you'd rather die than give up. I didn't know then what they meant-but it's the attachment to your identity. I had to give up being Ted. I am not Ted any more. I will never be Ted again." She stopped abruptly and looked at me-as if waiting for a reaction.
I stared at her. For a moment, I had the bizarre sensation that I was sitting with a total stranger again. "But I know who you are-" I protested. "Or do I? Is there any of Ted left?" I asked.
"All of me is left," she laughed. "What's gone are the `foofoos'-the arbitrary attachments to being a specific person." "This is very confusing," I admitted. "I keep thinking they've done something weird to you. I mean, weirder even than you're telling me."
"Of course it's weird!" she laughed. "That's the only reason for doing it." And then she turned serious again. She took my hand in hers. There was a hint of-was it sadness?-in her voice now. "The difference between us is that I know that identities are all artificial. That's a terrifying thing to know. An identity isn't just threatened by that fact-it's destroyed. Of course, you're going to resist knowing that. Because then you have to start being responsible for the identity you've created, are continually creating!"
"Uck," I said.
"That's exactly what I said when I found out-but there's something else on the other side of that-a whole new way of experiencing people. It was like discovering a new species! I stopped seeing-that is, I stopped focusing on all the shallow, physical, temporal attachments that people surround themselves with, and started seeing beyond the identity to the being who'd created it in the first place! It is an eerie-and wonderful-experience."
"You did that to me before, didn't you?" She nodded.
"Yeah-I had the strangest feeling that you were reading my mind. Or something."
"I was. Sort of. Only not quite the way you think. I was reading the physical expression of your mind."
"Huh?"
"Jim." She put her hand on my arm. Her tone was serious and intense now. She captured me with her eyes. "People build identities out of fear. You build an identity because you think you need it for survival. You use it as a wall. Telepaths know how to read the walls. You think your life is a secret? It never has been. We can see how it turned out on your face."
I didn't know what to say. I felt as if I'd been slammed against the wall-my wall. Why was she telling me this? What did she want from me?
She must have seen it in my expression. She stroked my arm gently. "A telepath has to know all this, Jim, because part of the job of the telepath is to build new identities. Every time I shift into a new body, I have to create a persona that's appropriate. It's not about acting-it's about being. I know this is hard for you to understand, Jim. I'm trying to condense months of training into a single conversation."
"I really do want to understand," I said.
"I know. I can see it. That's what makes this so hard for me. All I can tell you is that when you lose your body and your identity, what you gain is an incredible freedom. You can't imagine it. Really. There's a-a thing that happens, a point you reach, like an airplane racing down a runway, where you become airborne, and then you're flying. You know when you reach it, nobody has to tell you. That's the experience, Jim. I wish I could take you with me. I wish I could share it with you."
I said, "So do I. "
She didn't reply. Neither of us spoke for a moment. The moment stretched out-became an uncomfortable silence. I looked at her eyes again. I felt myself drawn-and I felt uneasy too. She was my boyfriend who'd become a goddess, and I didn't know what that made me.
"What's the matter?" she asked. She touched my hand gently.
"I, um-' I shrugged and pulled my hand away. "I'm a little overwhelmed, I guess." I took a breath, I exhaled loudly, I put my drink down. I wondered if I should say good night and go.
She sat up a little straighter then, she became more purposeful. She said quietly, "I'll tell you the truth, Jim. I had a very simple intention for tonight. I was going to bring you up here and fuck your brains out. Nothing more. I didn't really intend to have this conversation. I just wanted to complete some old business fur myself and have a little fun with an old buddy and pay you back for all the hard times I gave you in the past. Stupid me-I guess I really do love you too much to take that much advantage of you."
"Huh?" I picked up my jaw and fitted it back in place.
"Well, yeah," she admitted. "Hell-the one time we did it, you were so intense, it was like touching a high-voltage line. Don't you wonder why I kept trying to get you back in the sack-or the shower? That was my hidden agenda for tonight. But then we started talking. And there was just too much to talk about. And I realized how much misinformation there was between us. And I wanted you to just know me as I am now."
Her face was shining again. I thought of Ted. I remembered how he was always like a big silly kid-and the whole world was filled with fascinating toys. He was always grinning-like this. I'd never realized before how innocent his grin had been.
That smile was so sweet, so infectious ... and Tanjy's eyes were incredibly fascinating. I could look into them for hours, years, the rest of my life. I forgot all about Ted. That was a couple of lifetimes ago. This was a beautiful woman; this was now-