I started writing this back in 2002, so the idea of Paulette being agitated about being “stuck invisible” doesn’t apply today as it did then.
While online recently, I came across a Voyager fan-fiction story called “Wish” that really got me started thinking about Paulette’s situation.
The main character, Wish, is a superhuman but humanoid female who starts out invisible to everyone but Seven of Nine. She (Wish) is from a race that has been cursed by the Q Continuum to be at others’ service. In time Seven learns that she can *wish* Wish visible, and so she does.
Two things about the story really intrigued me: one, that Wish could become tangible or intangible at will (for those who haven’t read the story, check out the first time she’s alone with B’Elanna); and two, that Wish has no control over her invisibility. In one scene she describes it to B’Elanna as a defense mechanism as automatic as breathing is to humans.
The more I read, the more I thought about Paulette. As far as we knew, Paulette wasn’t cursed, nor could she will herself intangible. But in the story, once Seven found Wish, she had a servant “for life” or until the terms of the curse were fulfilled. Once Paulette and I crossed paths, she immediately became my muse. Was she actually somehow *bound* to me? And do I have any control over her invisibility?
For a couple of days this was about all I could think about. I didn’t say anything to Paulette at first because, after all her early anguish about being “stuck” invisible, she seemed to have gotten used to it. Comfortable with it, in fact. I didn’t want to stir anything up if I didn’t have to.
I was still mulling all this over a few days ago, perched in front of a television I was supposed to be watching, when I heard keys jingling, which I knew to be Paulette coming in. Presently I heard her voice behind me. “Hi, hon,” she said.
“Hi, yourself,” I said, turning just in time to see a shopping bag appear on the floor when she let go of it. “How was shopping?”
“Shopping was OK,” she said, her voice tailing off at the end. “Listen, I’m starved. I’m gonna make myself a sandwich or something. D’ya want anything?”
“Sure, I’ll take a sandwich,” I said, as I followed her voice to the kitchen. I wasn’t really all that hungry, but I never miss a chance to see Paulette put on a show.
I wasn’t disappointed. As I watched, the breadbox opened, and a bag of bread floated across the kitchen to rest on the counter next to the sink. Two paper towels ripped themselves from the roll and spread themselves out on the counter. The bread bag unwrapped and four slices floated out, two landing on each paper towel. The bread bag then re-wrapped itself and slid away from the paper towels. Next, the cutlery drawer opened and a knife floated out.
“What am I doing?” Paulette said. “I forgot to take out the stuff for the sandwiches. What kind do you want?”
Watching as the fridge opened itself, I asked, “Do we have turkey?”
The bologna, spiced ham, and Swiss cheese floated out, followed by a jar of mayonnaise. “I’m sorry, my hands are full,” Paulette said.
“That’s OK, I’ll check,” I said, hurriedly scanning the shelf for it. I found it and a head of lettuce, and quickly closed the fridge to catch the rest of Paulette’s show.
By now she had already opened the mayo, and a butter knife was spreading it on the bread. “Hand me the turkey, I’ll make yours first,” she said. “You want mayo and mustard, right?”
“Uh huh,” I said, handing over the turkey.
“How long do you think my arms are?” she said. From the sound of her voice I could tell she was now facing me. Then she started giggling. “Oh, *now* I know why you wanted me to make you a sandwich!”
“No, I really was hungry,” I claimed. “I was about to get myself a snack when you came in.”
“Yeah, sure,” she said. “So why didn’t you just get some cookies or something? Hmm?”
I smiled. “OK, you got me. You knew that anyway, didn’t you?”
“Of course,” she replied. “You can’t fool me. Now let me finish these sandwiches, and we can talk some more. In the meantime I’ll give you more to look at.” At that her clothes, a backless stretch-denim jumpsuit, came into view. The lack of sleeves meant that the knife still seemed to jump around by itself as Paulette made the sandwiches. My eyes kept darting from the knife to the way the jumpsuit clung to every curve of Paulette’s body. I paid special attention to where the front of the suit stretched over her chest. It was an amazing sight; I could see all the way down past her waistband. If she hadn’t been wearing socks, I could have seen straight through to the floor. Though it wasn’t exactly the *invisibility* that I found riveting…
8o)
After a few moments she had finished the sandwiches. By that time I had managed to break myself away from her long enough to fetch two lap trays from the dining-room closet. “You *did* want to sit in the living room, right?” I asked. “Or would you rather eat at the table?”
“Doesn’t matter,” she said. “The living room is fine.” I held out one tray towards the jumpsuit. She took the tray, and her food and a bottle of Pepsi floated up onto it. I grabbed my food and soda and followed her into the living room.
I had expected Paulette to have plenty to say as we ate. At least I was hoping she would; I was still having trouble thinking about much other than that Wish story. Hoping to start some kind of conversation, I said, “You said that shopping was just OK,” I started. “Did something happen?”
“No, nothing *happened,* really,” she answered, sounding a bit preoccupied, “but I have to find a way to make some money. I’m tired of the five-finger discount.”
I looked her way, wishing for just a moment that there had been somewhere in the room that I could sit and see her from both the front and the back; the sight of the *inside* of the front of her jumpsuit was just too mesmerizing. Fortunately, that idea took only a moment to register, so I could answer without seeming like I wasn’t paying attention to what she had said. “Why are you so worried about the way you shop? You always make sure to send the stores a money order for the right amount.”
“Yeah, but that money comes from you. I shouldn’t be relying on you to clean up my mess,” she said. “I should have my own money, instead of having to ask you to pay for me. And this way I could pay *when* I get my stuff, not after.”
I didn’t know quite what to say. What I wanted to talk to her about was kind of related to what we were talking about, but I wasn’t sure how she would take it, or if it was the right time.
No time like the present, I decided. I took a deep breath and spoke up.
“Um, it seems to me that your invisibility is wrapped in the money situation,” I said. An awkward and rather obvious statement, I know, but I had to start somehow.
She just grunted. I wasn’t sure she had heard what I said, since I didn’t get the sarcastic reply I had expected. “But that’s not going to change,” she said, after a brief pause.
“Well, what do you think you’d be able to do… in your present… uh, condition?”
“Maybe I could do something in mail order or online. If I don’t have to do business face-to-face, nobody has to know I’m invisible. But I’d still have to get money from you to start up,” she said.
“Did you ever wonder if there was a way you could become visible?” I ventured.
For a while she didn’t say anything. I didn’t know how to take her silence, but I didn’t have to wonder too long. “At this point I’m not even sure I want to try,” she said. “I’ve gotten used to being invisible. Plus I can see myself, so it’s not like I need to see a reminder that I exist, like on TV or in the movies.”
“Yeah, but wouldn’t you like to be seen by others?” I said. “You could deal with people just like everybody else does, without having to wonder if they’ll freak out when they hear a voice out of nowhere, or clot
hing walking and talking by itself.”
She sighed. “That would be nice, but I don’t want to get my hopes up just to be disappointed or something. Remember when I used to bug you all the time about being invisible? If we try something and it doesn’t work, we could be right back where we started, and I’m not sure either of us wants that,” she said.
Then, the million-dollar question: “What brought this up, anyway?”
This time it was my turn to sigh. “Well, I ran across this web page a few days ago. It was a Voyager fan-fiction story , but it centered around a non-human character that started out invisible to everyone but Seven of Nine. She could make herself known to others, but only Seven could see her. As time went on, things changed — tell you what, instead of telling you about it, why don’t I let you read it?”
She was silent for more than a moment or two before speaking. “You mean to tell me that you read some story on the Internet, and you think that might have the key to making me visible?” She sounded like she wasn’t sure I was serious.
“If you’re worried about how I came to this conclusion from a story, well, remember that originally you were only a story character, Paulette. We don’t know how you wound up here with me, but you did. Maybe whatever it is that made you invisible could undo itself and make you visible.”
“OK,” she said, with a sigh. “I guess it can’t hurt anything for me to read the story, at least. What’s the URL?”
“It’s saved in my Yahoo Bookmarks, in the Story Sites folder. It’s called ‘Wish,’ ” I said. She then went and fired up the computer while I stayed in the living room to watch some TV. I figured that, with all the stuff that might run through her mind while she read the story, I’d better give her some space.
I watched the Simpsons or some other as Paulette scanned the story. While Homer got himself into trouble, Paulette sat silently at the computer and read. She didn’t give any aural signs of what was going through her mind as she read, so when she left the computer and rejoined me in the living room, I didn’t know quite what to think.
After some time had passed, the “empty” jumpsuit walked into the room and sat down beside me. Paulette rested her head against my shoulder and began to speak.
“That was… some story.” Not much of a beginning, but I was determined to let her have the first word on this one.
“What do you mean?” I said.
“Well, I think I see why you wanted me to read it, to see if I saw similarities between myself and Wish. But wasn’t she some kind of superior being before she was sentenced to serve?”
I had wondered the same thing, and had gone though the story numerous times looking for a clue regarding that. “I don’t know,” I replied. “The story doesn’t really say whether she had those powers before she was ‘cursed’ or not. It kind of hints at it, but doesn’t come out and say it.”
“On the other hand,” Paulette said, “she told B’Elanna that her invisibility was a reflex, as automatic as breathing. I don’t even know how I’d go about trying to become visible. I mean, sure, I can keep people from seeing my clothes when I want, but it’s not like it requires effort. I just… decide I want to ‘hide,’ and until I decide otherwise, you don’t see anything. I’ve tried ‘deciding otherwise’ with my own visibility but it doesn’t seem to work on me, only on my clothes or anything else that’s in actual contact with my skin.”
“Which reminds me, while we’re on the subject…” I started out, without really giving thought to what I was about to say. I wanted to backtrack, to take it all back so I wouldn’t have to say anything else, but I’d already started, so…
“As long as you’ve been around, I can’t believe we’ve never addressed whether you can make me invisible, or just how invisible you might be able to make me.”
Silence. But only for a few seconds.
“Well, actually, I have,” she admitted. “I figured it might freak you out a bit, so I tried it out on you a few times in your sleep. I mean, I made you vanish without affecting anything around you. I’ve even tried it once or twice after you had dozed off in front of the TV, and realized that I wouldn’t mind stumbling across a way for you to make yourself invisible to others as well.”
“What made you think of that?” she asked in a noncommittal tone.
“You just said ‘ actual contact with your skin.’ Does that apply to your hair too?”
“Only one way to find out,” she said. “But I don’t have pinpoint control like that. If it works, it might make my clothes and you and your clothes invisible, or it might apply only to you.” She sighed. “Here goes…”
I felt something, kind of like a static exchange after you’ve walked across a kind-of-new carpet and then touched metal, then looked down at myself.
It was like the Sesame Street version of invisibility — no visible evidence of me or of Paulette being there. The couch was, indeed, pressed down under both of us, but I had vanished, along with all of both of our clothing.
“This is weird,” I said, having to grope around to find out just where I was before I felt comfortable trying to move. And as soon as Paulette moved, her hair broke contact with my skin and I reappeared — clothes and all — but she stayed completely invisible.
“Hmm,” she said, as her jumpsuit came into view again. “I didn’t expect to vanish my clothes too, but, well, that was the first time in a long time that I’ve tried to do that with anyone. Now I remember that’s what happened then, too, but it’s been so long that I’d forgotten.”
That was a surprise. “When did you try to make someone else invisible? And how come it wasn’t me?”
“I think it was one of the parties at Dave’s FI Club, and I’d had a bit too much to drink. You know me and alcohol — anything more than one beer and I lose what control I have over keeping myself together. Other people told me my clothes were blinking on and off — it looked like a video editor’s first attempt at making someone invisible. Anyway, I grabbed somebody, I don’t even remember who, and he blinked visible and invisible along with my clothes. I’m surprised you don’t remember it…”
I didn’t remember, not even vaguely. If she’d had enough to lose control of her “shield,” then I’d probably had too much too, which would explain not remembering.
“And if you remember, I’d tried to do that with you many times, but you always said you didn’t want to, because you didn’t want to develop a taste for something you couldn’t do whenever you wanted.”
I did remember saying that. If I became invisible too often, I’d bug Paulette to be with me 24/7, so I’d be able to vanish whenever I wanted, instead of letting have something of a life of her own…
“But let’s not get off track,” she continued. “I’m guessing you want to know if I still want to be visible again. Am I right?”
“Well,” I said, “it’s like this. I wouldn’t mind at all if there were some way you could turn it on and off with yourself the way you can with anything you touch. Knowing that you look like Adriana Lima, I’d like to see that for myself sometime. I mean, you know, without having to go to Subreality to do it. But even if that never happens, I’ll be happy with the way things are. ”