Feb 11, 2011 1:28 PM
Cold War
by Negatively Positive
The lock was child's play.
I slipped it open and tried to quietly move into the room. Unfortunately some fool had left a pile of old manuscripts on the floor. I tripped over them and nearly dropped my lock pick on the floor. "for Christ sakes..." I scolded myself. "Next time you break and enter why don't you bring a fucking flare gun and some bells... some professional."
Took a moment to regain my composure while fingering the gun. I'd never use it but it'd be handy if someonedidn't know that. I really didn't want to do this so messily but I will threaten my way through it if I have to. Faint sounds from an office down the hall but so far it seems that I am unnoticed. One mistake... That's all it takes... Looks like I got lucky this time. No more screwing around... This is the first job I've taken in months and I've got to get back on the horse here.
Cold in this place. Freezing. Don't these people pay the gas bill? I surveyed the room. Desks... More desks... Papers scattered everywhere. Dear god I hope I can find this draft I'm supposed to steal.
I moved into the main hallway. One light on in the third door to the left... Door is open... The source of the faint sounds I heard when I was coming in I suppose. The 4th door on the left is my target. Great.
I slowly creep down the hall until 2 voices come into focus. One of a man in the office... The other a loud mechanical screaming... coming through the phone I suppose. Someone is really getting a hard time in there. I crept to the edge of the door and pulled out my mirror to get a look at what I'm dealing with here. Guy in his late 20's... glasses, unkempt hair, scraggly beard. "Writers..." I silently mouthed to myself. He sat motionless in an uninterested pose, holding the phone in one hand and leaning on the other while staring out the door. I had almost decided he was sleeping through the vicious scolding he was receiving until he said "Some people liked kitty kitty..." and nearly scared the hell out of me.
Some people liked kitty kitty? What the hell is that supposed to mean. Whatever... This guy is a problem. He's staring straight out the door. No way I'm getting past here without a distraction. I'm just going to have to play this out.
As I sat watching this unfold from my pocket mirror my mind wandered to how I came to be in this place. The disaster in Chicago was not good for my reputation. Jobs stopped coming, but the bills didn't follow suit. Was pretty sure I would have to take up an honest trade before this little gem came along. Start small... Work your way back up... This is a piece of cake.
The man in the office whispered something that I couldn't make out and looked increasingly dejected but his eyes never strayed from the closed door across the hall. This was becoming irritating... the guy that hired me for this job said there wouldn't be anyone here at this hour. One of the few things he could be bothered to say at all. I had never been so thoroughly ignored by a client in my life. At first I thought he was just being a dick because of the rep I had picked up... But the longer I spent in that office the more I became convinced that he was barely aware that I was even there. Just handed me a folder, gave me a time, then popped his headphones in and went back to reading. Weird dude. Weird job. But easy, and good pay. So why the hell not right? It's not like I'm doing anything else.
"Well after I explained..." the writer said before being cut off by the screaming on the phone. This was reaching a crescendo. My chance is coming...
"No..." He said and then looked very concerned. He then pressed the speaker phone button and placed the phone back on its base.
At that moment the man in the office jerked up and looked straight out the door so fast I was sure he saw me. I grabbed for the gun with my right hand but kept watching my mirror just in case. That's when the screaming began.
"IF YOU DON'T GET YOUR FUCKING HEAD OUT OF YOUR ASS AND WRITE ME GODDAMN...."
The man in the office dropped his head to his desk. NOW.
I rolled across the doorway as quietly as I could. Not that I needed to be all that quiet with all of this screaming. One more lock to crack and I'm home free and off to somewhere warm. Maybe I'll call up that girl from Miami a few years back... What was her name?
Focus! FOCUS! Beaches and sunsets later... You still have to get what you came for and get out of here unseen.
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Feb 25, 2011 12:30 PM
The Calm Before
by Dorge Kas
I was just about to pick up the phone to call O.A.D.S. when I thought better of it. I really didn't want to deal with any of this today.
It had been raining all week and this old building was beginning to look and feel soggy. The whole staff was endlessly clearing their throats and making other noises with their nasal canals that made me want to take the fire axe down off the wall- that's how old this building is, there's a fire axe on the wall.
Thankfully Mr. Harenthal was finally off my ass for five minutes, but now the Super was calling me asking all these questions about Merghast; and having someone scream "Merghast" over the phone in an Eastern-European accent did not afford a whole helluva lot of understanding. In about forty minutes of phone-time I was able to coax out that Merghast was behind on rent and I was listed as the Emergency Contact. The spooky guy in the dirty bathrobe makes me his emergency contact, fantastic.
On top of that everyone's still acting weird about the whole Mr. Entroop thing- as in, whatever he's lost it ain't found so I have to listen to him moping around upstairs. Why the hell you'd bring anything of value into this building is beyond me.
That's why my hand was hovering over the reciever.
Well. If anyone over at O.A.D.S. wants to talk, they'll just have to call me.
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Feb 28, 2011 7:10 PM
Vruce Vanner
by Dorge Kas
If I were The Incredible Hulk, I would follow a super-hero to the grocery store, and when they went in, I would pick up their car and put it somewhere else.
This is the thought I have every time I park my car outside the market. By the time I reach the automatic doors I'm wondering if I would be Smart Hulk or Hulk Smash. So, I'm wondering if I would hide the car because I was being clever, or puerile.
The Hulk was originally supposed to be gray, but when Stan Lee sent it to the printers, they told him they didn't have gray. "Make it green," he said.
The Hulk's real name is Bruce Banner, but the character Bill Bixby played on the serial was named David Banner because the producers thought "Bruce Banner" sounded gay; if they thought "Bill Bixby" sounded gay I'm not really sure.
The way you can tell whether or not Stan Lee created a character is if the real name uses alliteration. Bruce Banner. Peter Parker. Matt Murdock.
Stan Lee's real name is Stanley Lieber.
I'm thinking about The Incredible Hulk because I'm angry.
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Mar 2, 2011 12:41 PM
14 Years ago... In Cincinnati
by Negatively Positive
Three souls gathered in the dark at the base of a giant metal beam. A fourth was missing.
Soul #2 - "Is it safe to speak freely here?"
Soul #1 - "Yes, I believe so..."
Soul #3 - "Why have you gathered us here without the other?"
#1 - "We have matters to discuss which should not involve him..."
#2 - "Should not... What are you up to J? This isn't like you."
#1 - "I have information which should stay between us... It is complicated... I'm ready to discuss it if you will listen."
#3 - "Will he not sense us here? In such close proximity?"
#1 - "I have chosen this location because of the abundance of people and background noise... With luck it should muddle his senses long enough for us to discuss our business..."
#2 - "He will find out. You know he will discover this. He will feel betrayed."
#1 - "Betrayed? Perhaps... But not suspicious... It is a risk I have prepared for. I will blame my handlers for this. Whether he believes me or not is inconsequential."
#3 - "So what is so important that you have dragged us to this place?"
#1 - "I have had a vision... There is a man... Entroop they call him. This man will develop an ability that will change this world. And I... We must control it alone."
#2 - "We? But not the other?"
#1 - "The other cannot be trusted with this... He presents risks... He is reckless with the abilities he already possesses. Have you not seen his servants? These "Gaws"... This wasn't part of the plan and you both know it."
#2 - "It is a harmless clique... You are being over-cautious J."
#3 - "I agree. This is foolish."
#1 - "A harmless clique? They spread like wildfire! Have you both been blinded? Have you not yourselves walked among them? The things I've seen... and been compelled to do in the presence of this army he's created. I shudder to think if it goes further."
A giant metal car roars past the three of them on a track. People joyously scream.
#2 - "What are you suggesting? What is this ability? I know of this Entroop and he seems to be nothing special to me."
#1 - "I cannot say more until I know you are with me. Entroop is clever beyond your imagination... He hides in plain sight. He knows what we are. He may even be one of us, I cannot be sure. But trust me I know what is coming... I know what the other plans to do. Neither of you will survive this. I must keep this power safe."
#3 - "Why do I get the feeling that you wish this power for yourself?"
#1 - "And what if I DO?! Are you qualified to use it? Do you see the future? I think not. I'm not here to discuss who is worthy. I am here to discuss who is not. You both know he is reckless. He has seen this power in his dreams just as I have. Has he discussed it with either of you? No. Have I? Here we are. This seems to answer all relevant questions.
#2 - "You have never in all of your years answered ALL relevant questions."
#1 - "This is going nowhere isn't it? You've both fallen haven't you? What did he promise you? I'll tell you that if it wasn't a gruesome death, then he lied."
#3 - "You have become paranoid old friend... You've been on this planet too long."
#1 - "Paranoid? We'll see who's paranoid when these "Gaws" march freely from galaxy to galaxy. I'll not allow it. If the two of you will not help me then so be it. But I warn you not to alert him. He will blame you for this just as he will me. My orbital defenses will soon be prepared... Will you have such a luxury? I doubt it.
#2 - "You walk a dangerous road. He will not stand for this."
#1 - "If it is war he plans to bring, then it is war he will have. We must return. My handlers will become suspicious. I'm told the humans come here for enjoyment. We should use one of these "roller coasters" to present the image of normalcy."
#3 - "Very well."
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Mar 7, 2011 8:49 PM
Segmented
by Dorge Kas
He could see everything from here. All the pieces moving in a current he alone controlled. He half-smiled, before the feeling came back, the feeling of being watched. He had had it before, knew it well, but that was so long ago.
What could he have done with more time? What would he have done with more time!
And now Entroop was pushing his hand. Damn that fool!
The clouds rolled beneath them and the weight of isolation bore down on him. He had shored himself against this, and even with the man behind him, he felt utterly alone.
"What if "Project Window" wasn't what you thought it was?" the man said.
He did not turn from the window, could see the trim man behind him in the reflection. He thought his heart was going to burst. He wanted to clench his fists, but breathed evenly, and didn't. The man behind him was from a past he didn't remember, and a future, too. Sometimes he had trouble wrapping his head around the whole thing.
"This is where everything began?" he asked.
"Most would say 'ended'," the man said.
Was this more of the memory suppression? He tried to retrace his steps, where was he before...here?
"Pedaf?"
He pressed his head against the glass, "Were you one of the Controllers? Or, the Handlers? Were you one of those?"
The man stood up, "You could probably say that. Yes. But you weren't assigned to me. I was with the Sebastian Group."
"Sebastian. And me?"
"You were with a group called "Everett" and your number was thirty-two," the man said.
He turned to face the man, "And you're here to help me? To help me find Entroop?"
"No," the man said, "I'm here to observe. I'm here to warn the others if you fail."
He approached the table, there were black and white photographs strewn about it. All the images seemed to portray the same four people over and over at different ages, sometimes together, mostly not.
"The four of them were from the Sebastian Group. That's why we had to use you, we thought it would be too dangerous to use someone from the same quarantine,"
"-quarantine?"
"Yes," the man continued, "everyone, even you, were under quarantine. It's easier to manipulate the Time Stream that way, but it's very damaging to the person. That's why we had to use the memory suppression, and implant false memories."
"The aliens? The...what was it, Tripes?"
"False, just a story," the man consented.
He sat down, or fell, into a seat. He didn't recognize any of the people in the photographs. Sebastian Group. Some how these four had escaped and landed here, in this time. And for some reason or another, he was now involved. "Do they, I mean, did they have names?"
"Yes, but our intelligence on the ground tells us they've adopted new names since they've been here. Also, there's been a splintering, this one," he pointed, "doesn't associate with the entire group."
"You have intelligence on the ground? More Controllers?"
"Not exactly," the man said, "but that will be kept on a need-to-know basis, to avoid compromising them. We have a few people inserted in a group that calls itself Gaw."
"What does "Gaul" have to do with this?"
"Gaw, G-A-W, it could be an acronym, we're not sure yet. These two are very close to the group, immersed, some have said."
"This is a little much to take in. What am I supposed to do when I do make contact?"
The man's brow furrowed, "Isn't that clear? Kill them."
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Mar 8, 2011 12:33 AM
Killing Time
by Negatively Positive
From the final status report of Captain William Davis (presumed KIA):
"The following notations are from our initial investigation of basement level 1 of the Thornbelle complex."
"We have determined there to be 3 lower levels but they are so far inaccessible due to damage caused by the incident. It appears they were added after the building's original construction though we are not sure how this was done without anyone noticing since we can find no building permits on record. The utilities and sewer system have somehow been routed around or through the additions. Despite the carnage below, the building above stands relatively unfazed... Your guess on this is as good as mine."
"Damage is extensive but we believe we are approaching the chamber in question. Navigation would be sketchy down here even without the fires and magnetism issues. I have submitted to the committee my full report on this matter but just to reiterate there is something very strange down here. The intelligence we had from the final satellite transmission is somehow wrong. It's as if the corridors have rearranged themselves."
"We have recovered various documentation linking Entroop to this. But nothing concrete or even complete for that matter. One document of interest is the remains of a journal found in an office of sorts (which looks to have doubled as a sleeping chamber). The writings are rambling... Mostly messy, and unintelligible... I'll leave this to the eggheads to decide for sure... But I think this may be our boy. I've taken the liberty of scanning the legible bits and attaching them to the end of this transmission. Jones in archives will have a problem with this but I don't answer to fucking archives, and you can tell him I said that."
"My team is working well together but I have placed a request to the committee for an extra regiment. I realize this is just grunt work and evidence fetching but... Call it an old soldier's hunch... I feel like we need a few more combat ready bodies down here. These kids you've sent me have the combined live fire experience of my dear great grandmother, and God forbid, if one of those shifters is down here, it ain't gonna be pretty. I realize the committee has it's hands full with the fires and problems on the surface but for Christ' sake we're in the thick of it down here."
"I have a secretary ferrying messages to me from base camp every hour. I will await your reply from them."
Captain William Davis
U.S.M.C. / (Classified)
End Report
The following are excerpts from a journal presumed to belong to Subject "J" dated several months before the incident, all the way to the the day of the blackout.
"July 8th - It's getting harder to keep myself together lately... They told me it would be like this if I didn't... What?... If I didn't what? I cant even remember who "they" are much less what I was supposed to be doing. I have taken to sleeping down here. The hum of the generators seems to help me stay focused on "when" I am. Just last week I woke up and I was 13 again... I was forced to re-live 3 months of my childhood before I finally righted myself... The lapses are getting longer... And as the loop starts to close I'm losing control. I haven't been able to look into the future for months... always the past... always the past. Entroop has... blocked me somehow... he's done something to... I cant see it anymore."
"November 12th - I've taken to wandering the building at night now... Sometimes half shifted so that nobody can see me. I feel like a ghost, I might as well act like one. If I stop concentrating on staying whole just a little I can actually sort of... walk around invisibly? Am I really invisible? Was I ever visible? The clock down here. It bothers me at night... I don't like it... particularly from 2 AM - until 4 AM... I really don't like the ticking sound that it makes during those hours... it sounds like a laugh...The clock is laughing at me... It's telling me that my time has run out... or my time has... caught up to me? or... I don't know. There is a plant on the third floor that is... This plant... it wont stay... where I put it. It is infuriating... I move it nightly... and the bastard thing goes somewhere else. I cant... Who am I?"
"December 25th - I'm feeling much better today... I've remembered things... a lot of things that certain people wanted me to forget. V... you clever bastard... You almost had me. Last night I relived 10 years of my most recent childhood. And I got a second glimpse of a vision I had when I was 15... Entroop and all his little underlings don't realize it yet... But things are about to get really messy around here. Perhaps I'll drop them all a Christmas card."
"February 11th - Its been difficult again lately... I've recorded the sound of the generators in the basement into a portable music device that I carry with me at all times. I cant stray far from the basement... too many distractions... If I stop paying attention to the humming I lose hours, sometimes days. But on the plus side my thief has performed beautifully... Entroop's journal is mine. I paid the man and sent him on his way... for all the good it will do him. They will find him. And they will find me as well. They'll send an Everett... I know it... I've seen it...somewhere? I've watched this all happen... God... too many times now. But I'm going to throw a wrench in it all very soon."
"February 25th - Entroop was down here today. Asking about things... I cant remember what he asked me about... But it was that same smug disposition as always... acting like he's my friend... acting like he wants to help me... A thousand lifetimes I've lived... some of them two and three times... maybe more... and I've never hated a man so much in my "life". I don't know if he realizes what I'm up to... and hell... maybe its all part of his plan... But all I know is that this isn't "supposed" to happen... I've never seen it before... I've never... lived it before... So tonight I'm going to activate it. They should have listened to me... V and his blasted Gaws... I warned him it would come to this. To Hell with the consequences. Tonight the loop is going to close. Tonight... Maybe... I'll finally be free."
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Mar 10, 2011 6:35 PM
Segmented
by Dorge Kas
If the four subjects from the Sebastian group were indeed living in some sort of "half-shifted" phase that would explain why it had been so hard to pinpoint them. But once we narrowed it down to their present location, it seems all we have to do is point the interceptors in the right direction and take off the leash, with the presumed risks that go along with that.
What remains unclear is why the subjects have chosen this particular time fragment, and furthermore, why they stayed together after the initial escape from Sebastian Group. There is speculation there's something here we're not seeing, whether that be an event or something else of mutual interest.
Everett Pedaf and I have set up a base camp of sorts in this fragment, but in order to keep a link to VChicago we do not have the luxury of "shifting" for fear of losing contact. That deserves a bit of an amendment, Pedaf doesn't know that shifting will potentially sever his link to "home" which Project Window would see as the lesser of two evils, the other being that Pedaf discover that by shifting he isn't as tethered to us as we'd like him to believe; but I did admonish that he only shift as an absolute last resort.
Another concern is that Pedaf will not be under his memory suppression regimen, a concession we had to make in order to ensure he didn't "forget" he doesn't belong in this fragment. But what comes with that is the fear of the schizophrenia-like symptoms that seem to bubble to the surface of someone who goes too long without the suppression.
It would be interesting to study the psyche of the four individuals, now having been without the conditions of the quarantine for so long. Dementia would probably be the least of their problems, and their sense of self would be nothing more than some abstract notion.
Having to establish a bond of sorts with Pedaf, or "Everett 32" has proven less difficult than I initially suspected.
I feel I will prove solely responsible when he is destroyed.
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Mar 11, 2011 8:22 PM
The Plight of Andrew
by Negatively Positive
The Offices of The Director:
"A god damn clusterfuck." He said to himself. "I cannot believe Davis fucked me like this... a God damnclusterfuck."
"He did request reinforcements sir..." Said the young woman at the window.
"You think I don't fucking know that? Reinforcements with what? Do you have any idea what it takes to train these people to the point I can put them in the field with this shit? Fuck."
A buzzer sounds.
"Christ someone is at the door... Get that will you. And if it's Jones from archives again to bitch about due process in artifact collection I want you to tranq him and throw him in the river."
She opens the door to reveal a man in military dress who presses forward.
"Sir, I'm sorry to intrude... But we have a survivor from Thornbelle..."
"A survivor? You're kidding me... What kind of shape is he in? Can he talk?"
"He is unharmed sir... but that's not why I brought him here... He says he came into contact with Subject J."
"Subject J? Fucking bat shit crazy harbinger of the apocalypse subject J?"
"Yes sir... but the private says that the man was perfectly lucid at the time of his meeting."
The director considers this a moment and takes a sip of coffee. "Send him in."
The marine leads a young private into the office, shuts the door and takes his leave. The young woman returns to her post at the window. The private looks nervous but otherwise without a scratch.
The director paces a bit before breaking the silence... "What's your name son?"
"My name is Andrew sir."
"Okay Andrew... I want you to tell me what the hell happened down there..."
"Well sir... The last thing I remember before the attack was Captain Davis ordering everyone to group up and move some equipment into a chamber that we had uncovered... He thought that he had found Entroop'smachine."
"You say the last thing you remember?"
"I blacked out sir... I... well I was terrified. We couldn't actually see what was attacking us... It just sort of hit all at once. People were being torn apart. I heard the Captain yelling orders and firing madly and then I got light headed and fell down... When I woke up it was dark and everyone around me was dead."
The director shakes his head in quiet contemplation and takes another sip of coffee. "So you woke up and then what?"
"Well sir, I was pretty terrified and I couldn't remember my way out... So I just sort of sat there a moment... And that's when he walked out."
"Subject J? That's when Subject J approached you? What did he say?"
"He said "What's up?" sir."
"He sai... *sigh* nevermind... What happened then?"
"Well he pulled me up from the bodies and gave me a drink of water. He said that everything was "cool" down there now and that I didn't have to worry about what killed the others. But I didn't really believe him... He seemed a little nervous."
"Nervous? He seemed nervous? Was he rambling at all? Did he ever talk in circles?"
"No sir. He was perfectly aware... And I was curious at first too because I had read the reports on his behavior... So I asked him why he seemed so... together. He said that Entroop's machine had "restarted" him so to speak... He compared it to a computer that had been running too long and needed to be rebooted."
The director casts a glance at the young woman who solemnly nods. "Andrew... While you were down there with Subject J did he display any... abilities? Precognition perhaps?"
"Yes sir he did. He led me through the corridors and out of a ventilation system on the northern side of the building. Three times we stopped and Subject J would fire my weapon down an opposite corridor or cause some other ruckus. When I asked him what he was doing he said he was just "altering things a bit". I got the feeling that something else was down there looking for us, and he was distracting whatever it was from finding our true path."
"So he led you outside and then what?"
"Well..." Andrew looks around the office nervously "He told me that they would bring me here sir... and that you would want to talk to me."
The director drinks the last of his coffee and sets the cup down. "He told you that did he? Have anything else interesting to say?"
"Yes sir. He said that now that he was all together he could leave the building for a little while... I asked him what he was planning to do, and he told me that he was just going to follow his path to the end. He said Thornbellewas just the start and things were about to get much worse."
"So he's planning something then?"
"No sir, I don't think so. He says that he's just a bit player and he'll be dead soon like the others. He was very talkative... Almost friendly?"
"Friendly? You're kidding me... Well why did he think he would be dead soon?"
"He said the Everett would take him sir. He said he could only trick him until he decided to shift and then it was all over... and he wasn't sure if anyone could... make it remember? I'm not sure what he was talking about and I don't know if that's what was after us in the basement or what... He wouldn't say. I tried to talk him into coming in with me but he said he had somewhere to be... something about finding V. When I asked who that was he laughed and said I would know soon enough. Was there ever a Subject V sir?"
The director runs his hands through thinning hair. "Son, there are some questions you don't want to ask in this business. Since you guys are apparently pals now, did he tell you what he wanted with this V?"
"Uh... Yes sir... He said he was either going to kill him or shake his hand... He hadn't decided which... uh... path?"
The director stares at the ceiling fan silently for an uncomfortable amount of time before abruptly standing. "Great... Well Andrew I want you to go home to your family and get some rest... You will be well compensated for your services here."
As Andrew meekly leaves the room the young woman shuts the door behind him and turns to The Director "Well?"
"Assemble the committee, and I mean tonight. I want a 24 hour watch on that kid... I have a feeling he's going to get an unpleasant visitor soon... Tell your men they have orders to protect him if they can but if that doesn't look like a possibility I want to at least know what the fuck is out there."
"And what of this J and V situation? Are we really going to let them get that close?"
"You want to get in the middle of that? Cause I sure as fuck don't. Do we have any Gaws on the payroll? Anybody close to them."
"Sir, I've told you a thousand times... Money isn't their thing. I cant even get a meeting with these people, and we have no idea where they meet or how they communicate... For all we know our entire organization is crawling with them."
"Yeah and for all I know you're one of them. Get it done... That's what I pay you for. I don't care how you do it. We need eyes and ears wherever they're going."
"Don't you think J would see that coming a mile away?"
"I think that's exactly what J wants. Why the hell else would he drag that kid out of the building and send him to me with a god damn novel about his intentions? This is a scheme of some sort, and I want to know how it plays out."
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Mar 12, 2011 9:38 AM
To Do List
by Negatively Positive
A man sits in the back of the bus scribbling in a notebook.
"March 12th - I've decided to start a new journal. I'm going to need to make note of everything I learn and accomplish before I start losing it again. Entroop's machine has me stabilized for the moment but it's not going to last long. I can already feel time shifting around me. A couple times I've dozed off or even blinked on this bus ride and the passengers change. One time it will be completely empty, another completely full... One time the whole bus was full of Gaws in uniform... That must be an interesting time stream..."
"I don't know if V will listen to me when I arrive... But one way or another I've got to change things. I've already changed quite a bit... I was supposed to die helplessly in the Thornbelle building. They weren't counting on me being capable. The other 2 may have already fallen... I cant seem to get a lock on anything right now. But V will survive... The Everett always fails to finish him and they'll drag him back to VChicago, recondition him, pluck the rest of us from another time stream and start the whole god damn experiment over again. I have to wonder though why they always bring me when they know I can see this shit. Surely they realized I'd figure it out eventually. And what the hell was Entroop really doing with that machine anyway... I managed to re-align myself with it (Fucked up half a city in the process but hey...) But what was it even doing there in the first place? I worry that this is all part of someone else's plan."
"Soooooooo... Now what? I'm going to need to charge the batteries on this ipod soon... I've had this recording of the Thornbelle generators blasting in my ears for 12 hours now... Pretty well fucked if I lose that. I'm sure that I've managed to pique The Director's interest in all of this... Little help from the Committee is never a bad thing. So then we come to V. Kill him myself? (Or give it a hell of a try anyway...) or reason with him? Which is more likely? Neither option is very appealing."
"It would sure be easier to figure this all out if I couldn't still hear that god damn clock from the basement laughing at me."
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Mar 14, 2011 8:43 PM
Fucking Milton
by Dorge Kas
Momma said there'd be days like this.
I wonder if writer's block was a result of some chemical imbalance. I wonder if I'd had a few more greens during the day I would be churning out the next...something or another. I would cite the rum as a hindrance, but it didn't seem to slow Hemingway down. And fucking Milton was blind.
I'm probably just pissed off my fact-checker called-in the second day in a row. Probably tired of me asking her things I could have just as easily Googled just to keep her busy; hey, it's my dime. What she's probably doing is looking for another job.
At least I haven't heard Entroop moping around today. What kind've name is that? Jewish? En-troop. E-N-Troop. They probably just fucked it up at Ellis Island. This would be a perfect thing for my fact-checker to do.
I'm ready for this relative quiet to...I want to say, "explode", but that doesn't sound right. "This silence is pregnant with the posibility-scratch that-potential to...," Ok, really? What I'm waiting for is the phone to ring, and when it does, it'll be Harenthal.
And this is what he'll say:
I don't even feel like going in to what he'll say. It'll be bad. I don't even feel like thinking about it.
He's going to really blow his top when he figures out my posts are only making sense if the reader is checking out the Orbital Anvil Drop Station blog, too. Since, technically, O.A.D.S. is the competition. Then, he'll ask me, genius that I am, why I'm giving all those particular posts the same title. Because "Segmented 2" didn't sound good?
I think I'm going to get out, maybe get something to eat. Step away from it, come back. Something will bubble up to the surface, especially if I run into a zebra ninja or something at the pizza place.
I grab my keys.
The phone rings.
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Mar 14, 2011 9:14 PM
Segmented
by Dorge Kas
I have a piece of paper that has three words on it.
Pedaf Truman
VChicago
Everett
Sometimes when I look at the paper I get that feeling like when I look in the mirror too long. I have to convince myself that it's my writing. Then I have to assign a meaning to each word. If someone's ever forgotten how old they are, maybe just for a moment, they'd understand what it's like when I try to figure out my name. I could have just as easily scribbled "home" there, beside VChicago, but I've got to make myself think.
J.
V.
D.
R.
What were these initials for? Some arbitrary designation assigned by Project Window? Really, I don't suppose it matters. I've been flipping through the photos Gustav gave me, trying to determine what's so..."J" about this person, or "R" about another.
"Kill them," he said. Kill them, sure, that'll be a snap, mind to keep dinner warm? I don't even know where to start with this one. I can't get any sleep on this train. When I get into town I'm going to have to get a weapon; what's going to pass for a weapon here? A little more info on this Time Fragment would've been nice, thanks, Gus.
I pause on one of the pictures. This is the one Gus said left the four, I wonder if he meant all four? Is this guy going to be my way in? "Hi, I've come a long way. Long story short, I know your from Sebastian Group, would you like to get revenge?" That's a long shot.
The stewardess brings another water, and I wonder why she gives me a strange look when I say, "stewardess". It's the first time in as long as I can remember the water tasting so good.
When I get into town I'm supposed to make contact with one of these "Gaws", but I feel like I'm just walking into a trap, like that time with Forester. And I spend the next fifteen minutes wondering if Forester is a real person.
I'll figure it out. After all, I have all the time in the world.
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Mar 15, 2011 8:02 PM
One Useful Act...
by Negatively Positive
Pete Stevens was the most useless employee who had ever been employed by Orbital Anvil Drop Station. In fact he may have been the most useless employee ever employed anywhere.
Pete had been with the company for 6 months. The boss hired him seemingly at random (Which nobody ever questioned because the boss was a pretty random guy), paid him a modest salary, and let him get away with pretty much anything he wanted. Pete would later claim that he hadn't even posted a resume anywhere. He swears that the boss just called him up out of the blue one day and offered him a job. But they all knew that was B.S.
In his 6 months with the company Pete managed to crank out 2 articles. One was about a particularly tasty salad that he had for lunch one afternoon, and the other was about a band he really liked. The boss put them both on the front page. The rest of his time at the office was spent making coffee, playing video games on his phone, randomly surfing the Internet, and napping.
Everyone at O.A.D.S. hated Pete Stevens. Even the guys over at Weapon Mods knew the legend of how useless this man was.
But on this particular Tuesday afternoon, Pete was the only one who decided to show up for work. He used the key the boss had given him months prior (infuriating all the other non-key-carrying writers) and slipped into the empty office for his daily bout of being paid for nothing.
Nobody had seen the boss in weeks and people were getting kind of sketchy about showing up at all lately with all the disasters and such... Some kind of gas explosion under the building. There had been strange people in gas company uniforms going in and out of the basement for days. "Repairing the damage" Pete figured. They said that whatever blew had spread through the gas lines and caused a ruckus all over the place. But Pete didn't really care. As long as he kept punching his time card and spending a few hours at the office every day his check kept showing up in the bank.
Pete was feeling a little restless today... He didn't know why. He paced around the office for about an hour, and made coffee 3 times that no one was drinking but him. He couldn't quite get a handle on what was bothering him.
Suddenly it dawned on him that since its the first time he's been alone in the office maybe he should snoop around? That's what people do when they are alone in the office right?
And that is how Pete Stevens came to be sitting in the boss's chair, with his feet propped up on the boss's desk, looking out over the city through the boss's window. Pete felt powerful in that office. He thought one day he might be running this place, given that the boss seemed to like him so much. "He's probably grooming me to be his replacement." he thought. Pete swelled with pride at the thought of this as he leaned back in the chair. "This will all be mine someday."
And that is how Pete came to accidentally knock a very expensive looking, jewel encrusted statue of a cow off of the boss's desk, and into the floor, where it promptly shattered.
Pete panicked. He had been the only one who clocked in today. The only one with a key. There was no way he could blame this on anyone else. The cleaning staff isn't even allowed to come in here. Frantically he paced with his mind racing... Trying to find a way to explain this. "Uh... Mr. J, your private fax was going off and I had to run in here and press accept because some damn fool had turned the auto-accept off, and I accidentally knocked over your..."
This is where Pete noticed the note.
A sealed envelope in the floor that had fallen out of the shattered statue. On the front of the letter were two words. "Pete Stevens".
Pete thought for a moment and then nervously opened the envelope. This is what it said:
Dear Pete,
Please don't worry about the statue. It was a hideous thing anyway. I only had it crafted for the purpose of sealing this letter inside. However, I would appreciate it if you would please keep your feet off of my desk. It is a very expensive desk and even though I'm not going to be around to use it, I would hate to see it scuffed.
You're no doubt wondering how I figured all this out with enough time to stuff a letter inside of a jewel encrusted cow, and place it on my desk waiting for you to clumsily break it. You really might as well just put those questions out of your mind.
The reason I have written you this letter Pete, is to inform you that Orbital Anvil Drop Station will be ceasing operations very soon. In fact you're probably the last employee we have. And because of that I have one last VERY IMPORTANT job for you.
Hidden in the third cabinet to the left behind my desk is a safe. The combination is 03-33-30. I need you to open that safe for me.
Inside you will find another envelope addressed to you with a ridiculous amount of cash inside. Please take this as a "severance bonus" and perform one last task. Underneath the envelope is a journal that I acquired through decidedly illegal means (So I wouldn't go walking around with it in plain sight...). I would like you to take this journal across the hall to the offices of Weapon Mods. Do this after normal business hours when the only person there is Dorge Kas.
DO. NOT. OPEN. THIS. JOURNAL. I mean it Pete. Don't do it.
You are to deliver this journal ONLY to Dorge Kas. NO EXCEPTIONS ON THIS. And do so with my regards.
I hope you enjoyed your time working here at O.A.D.S., and despite what the others may have thought about you, I always thought you made excellent coffee.
Your Friend
Mr. J.
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Mar 17, 2011 9:21 PM
Segmented
by Dorge Kas
Great.
Just. Great.
Pedaf Truman. VChicago. Everett.
Pedaf Truman, an Everett, from VChicago, is in the wrong Time Fragment. And he has Controller Gustav to thank. And he's thinking in the third-person. Focus.
"You ok? That stuff'll hit'cha kinda hard," he said, exhaling a haze of odorous smoke, looking at Pedaf with glassy concern.
No wonder I'm thinking in the third person. This is my contact? This is my in?
"Pedaf? Pe-doff! What is that...Russian?" and he made a noise he must associate with deep thoughts, or chocolate. "Kalashnikov, comrade! Da Bolshevik sputnik!"
"You're saying you can't even tell me what a 'Gaw' is?" This is going nowhere.
"I don't think it was ever anything. I mean, was I a Gaw? Yes, but...what do you think that means?" he leaned forward abruptly, "That's the question, Pedaf, right there. Why are you here?"
God only knows. But I don't think he means "here" the way I think he does. I haven't heard this much existential bullshit since, hell I dunno, fake-memory-number-twenty-four. "Do you still contact Subject: V?"
His laughing suddenly turned into coughing, his face contorted sharply, "If he knew you called him 'Subject V' God his head would just-," and he pantomimed a head swelling like a blow fish.
"Well, I was just trying to get in touch with him. Do you know how I would do that?"
He flicked his lighter, almost compulsively, "No. No, I haven't seen him in a long time. I haven't seen any of the Gaws in, hell, years."
How did this go wrong? Why am I here, indeed? This guy can't even give me an answer as to what a Gaw is, and it sure as hell doesn't sound like there's any dangerous element to them. At least, not to the extent Gustav made them out to be. Is this just some story he's told me to...justify what he's sent me to do? Is their only transgression having escaped Sebastian Dock? Does he think I'll sleep any easier at night either way? I can't even guess about my last assignments and I'm sure it'll be the same for this one once it's complete. In the meantime I'm still going to have to track these four down and this "Gaw" has proved utterly useless. I'm no closer now than when I started. I'm already thinking about trying to find Entroop and that's not good. But, he may already know I'm here, somehow. Just the way Entroop always seemed to know.
"You know who you should talk to? The Brothers," he said, crossing his legs.
"These are Gaws? What would they know?"
"Maybe nothing. But they kept a kind've...database. If anybody can help you...,"
The Brothers...a database? Doesn't make sense that the Controllers wouldn't have known about this.
"Hey!" he lurched forward again, "You're not wearing green!"
"...What?"
He reached out as if to pinch him, "It's Saint Patrick's Day!"
"You're not wearing green, either!"
He stopped and looked down at his plaid blue shirt, "Are you sure?"
Christ.
I'm going to shift into the stone age.
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Mar 18, 2011 10:58 AM
Reunion
by Negatively Positive
A shrouded figure passes through the halls of a mountain stronghold. He glances at photographs and mementos that line the walls. Lives in pictures. Friends passed on. Some are still here... Some are not so friendly anymore. "Do any of them remember how we used to be?" He thinks. "It must be different for those who only live within one lifetime." How many times had he befriended these same souls only to watch them slip away, or change, over and over again.
He shakes his head and sighs. Continuing down the hall with no particular destination. He would pace these halls for hours until sleep took him. Still no word from Thornbelle. That would imply failure. Curious. Failure wasn't in the cards. He didn't recall this particular mission failing before... But it had been a very long time. What an interesting turn of events.
Passing into an open chamber he stops at the window to look out over the hills. "Pond Gap." He thought. "Of all the god forsaken places to... Someone is in here."
"Evening V."
The man known as V did not turn immediately. First he sighed and rubbed his eyes with two fingers like someone suffering from a migraine. Then he put on his best "annoyed" face and slowly turned around.
"J... There are 50 Gaws about. How did you get in here?"
"49... I never really liked that guy." Said the man known as J. "I spent quite a bit of time here myself you know? I haven't forgotten everything... Plus I may or may not be a little more functional than you remember."
"Oh really?" He said with a touch of arrogance. "Well I suppose I should be extra careful then eh? What is it that you wa... Must you wear those headphones while we're trying to have a discussion here?"
J rises from the corner where he had been sitting. "Yes, actually, I must." He grins as he dusts himself off "Love what you've done with the place... It reminds me of one of those terrible martial arts movies from the 80's where the evil mastermind has this stronghold full of guards, and traps, and such. I always used to wonder where they hired all those nameless guards... Where does one apply for that kind of job?" He laughs at himself. "But anyway, You're not an evil mastermind, are you V?"
He crosses his arms and returns his gaze to the window. "You know then."
"Know that you sent a Gaw to kill me at Thornbelle? I had a hunch yeah... It was all a little too messy to be an Everett... You know that the Everett is out there right? You remember this part?" J stops for a moment and looks around as if he just remembered where he left his car keys. Then he closes his eyes and seems to concentrate for a moment. "I don't have a lot of time V... I'm going to need to turn the volume up on this so you might have to speak up a bit."
V shakes his head and turns back around "I'm really not concerned with..."
"What??" Says J.
"I'M REALLY NOT CONCERNED WITH THE EVERETT!!"
"Jesus Christ V, you don't have to yell... I said speak up, not yell."
"I'm going to kill you myself." he whispered.
"What?"
"Nevermind." he said. "I don't care about the Everett. VChicago can rot and fall into a black hole for all I care. I'm done with all of this."
J bites his lip for a moment and then decides to speak his mind "You're not done with all of this and you know it. You know how this ends. The Everett kills everyone, comes for you, fails, and then they will con you back into the program just like they always do."
"I have never been conned." he growls.
"Bullshit. They hook you every time with the same line of crap. "You'll get another chance to make it right V. Another chance to keep it all together... Another chance to execute "The Plan." Its all a game, and the game is rigged. You cant win. You cant beat them because they want you to think we can get around this."
He sighs impatiently and stares at the ceiling a moment. "Why do I get the feeling you're not just here to bother me tonight?"
"Because you always stole a little of my gift to go along with yours my old "friend". I'm here to close the loop. This has to end."
He laughs to himself "You're just mad because you always have to be "the crazy one." Would you like my station J? Is that it? That's what your little trip to Cincinnati was about wasn't it?"
"Go to Hell. I don't care about your "Station" anymore. This is about setting things right."
"Setting things right..." He scoffed "As if you ever cared what was "right". I've had enough of this conversation. You may leave now. And you can take that crude little explosive you carried in here with you. We both know that there isn't a scenario here where you actually have the guts to detonate that thing."
"I'm not leaving until you own up to your failures, and help me fix this."
Anger now. "MY FAILURES?! How dare you speak to me like that. I AM YOUR CAPTAIN!"
J shakes his head and pulls the device from his jacket. "My captain... My killer. You never change V. You know its funny, you were right. I'm not supposed to detonate this thing... It's not in the cards. But you know... I wasn't supposed to use Entroops machine either... Or walk out of the Thornbelle building."
"But... here I stand."
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Mar 19, 2011 11:21 AM
Segmented
by Dorge Kas
"Hello?"
"Hey, it's me."
"..."
"Hey, listen. I think someone's looking for you. Someone is looking for you."
"Who?"
"Pedaf Truman? It's how you said it would be."
"Do you know where I am?"
"No."
"Jesus, you had this number for so long?"
"I've always just remembered it. He called you 'Subject: V'."
[soft laughing] "Oh yeah?"
"Just like you said. How'd you know that?"
"'Subject: J' told me."
"I didn't tell him anything, well, I told him he may want to talk to the brothers."
"Mmm...have you talked to them?"
"No, not in a long time."
"Have you talked to any of the Gaws?"
"No, you know, I've been meaning to call Ro-,"
"Subject: R?"
[laughing] "Right."
"Thank you for calling me. I mean, thanks for everything."
"Are you still there?"
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Mar 20, 2011 1:34 PM
'Splosions
by Negatively Positive
"Click."
The blast is sudden. Faster than I expected really. Even though I'm watching it in slow motion as I shift. Scorched my hand a bit... Wasn't quite fast enough.
V shifted too of course.
Just had to give a speech didn't you? Just had to give him that moment to think "Damn... He might actually press that button." Did I actually mean to kill him? Maybe I just wanted to give him one last thing to think on? Maybe not... I'm not sure. Yes I think that's what I meant... I wanted to show him that our views of the future aren't quite perfect... Or at least that's what I'll tell the grandkids. Well... I'll never have grandkids... But had I stuck around this world long enough to have grandkids that's what... Nevermind. Who am I talking to?
Now you've gone and shifted without even thinking about it, and you have no idea where or when you are. Dark out here. Cold. I'm kind of sleepy.
Ipod is broken... I guess they don't make these things to travel the time streams. No more Thornbelle generators... No more sanity. I guess I still have my journal but whats the point. I did what I came to do (I think?).
Now its time to wait for the inevitable.
Ears are still ringing from the blast... At least I cant hear that damn clock.
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Mar 21, 2011 8:45 AM
End.
by Negatively Positive
"Hahahahahahahaaha."
"And one time... That bastard... He sent me pictures of himself with what appeared to be a bullet wound through his forehead! Can you believe that!? No explanation... No return address... Just pictures of a dead guy!"
"Hahahahahahahahaha that's pretty crazy J! What did you do then?"
"Well I called him up of course. And I was like "What the hell is wrong with you!?" and he just laughed at me... ugh that V. I'll bet he's cursing up a storm now! I wonder if he even stopped to think about what it all means? You know... What I did?"
"Hahahahahahahahah sounds like wild and crazy times man. I'm sure he thought about it though. He will Probably give it a long hard thought. I wish I could have been there to help you out."
"Yeah I wish you could have been there too, Clock. Is it okay if I call you Clock? I mean you never really gave me another name to go by and well... That's what you are so I figured..."
"Clock is fine J. Clock is fine."
"Awesome. You're alright Clock. I'm sorry I hated you all this time. It's just... I always thought you were laughing AT me, you know? Now that you are laughing with me I realize that you're a pretty cool guy."
"Not a lot of people take the time to get to know me J. But you and I have been friends for a long time... Maybe you just didn't always realize it."
"Yeah I guess not. Hey, so who's your friend Clock? I didn't see him come in. He's kind of quiet this one."
"My friend? Oh... You mean Pedaf... Well... That's a long story. But he's here to help you out."
"Oh yeah? Am I...? Did I forget something again?"
"Nothing Important J. Its all going to be settled soon."
"Well good. You know I'm kind of tired. And really just tired of all of this. I mean I changed things this time. I didn't die like... all those other me's... But it still really didn't change much you know? I'm just tired."
"Well you've been here a long time J (In a manner of speaking). Sometimes when you try, and try, but continuously fail, it really wears you down."
"Does it ever! I just wanted to get things back to normal you know? I mean... This isn't normal. The things we do... the things we've done. None of this is norm... Hey Clock? I think I'm bleeding? Does this look like blood to you?"
"Don't worry about it J. Why don't you just take a nap? You're very tired."
"You know what I am... I think I'll just lie down here... Lie down... I'm just going to..."
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Mar 21, 2011 1:01 PM
Segmented
by Dorge Kas
The Brothers have proved to be more elusive than they were made out to be. Whether or not they have some collective database is yet to be determined; and what that data would be is even more speculative. I need addresses, dates...not favorite colors.
There's been no more contact from Controller Gustav, and I have to look at my card more and more frequently: Pedaf Truman. Everett. VChicago. Another thing I have to keep reminding myself is why I'm holding a Samurai sword. It seems I may have confused what Time Fragment I'm in, at least, that makes the most sense; all I remember is needing a weapon.
As I'm vomiting right now, it's increasingly difficult to focus. I think I'm in the sub levels of Thornebelle, and if the growing intensity of these distortion waves are to be any indication, I'm very close to Entroop and whatever he's been up to.
I'd been making my way here using utility access-ways for the last two days, and the waves of vertigo began late yesterday. If there's anything being in quarantine so long has taught me, it's being able to tell when vertigo is artificial. This must be some protective measure Entroop had ensured for himself. That explains these nauseous episodes I'm having, why with every step I'm losing more and more of the super ego.
My knuckles are white on the hilt of the sword and I wonder if I should unsheathe it. Another blast from a Class 460 Rifle echoes down the halls and I know I've brought a knife to a gun fight. But at least I still recognize the report of a 460, and I recognize what that means: The Director has sent the military in. Are we working in concert, or is this the Ace up their sleeve? Why bring in an Everett at all if they were just going to send in the military? Or maybe I'm in the wrong Time Fragment, after all. Nothing to do but press forward.
I think the gunfire may be some attempt to confuse pursuers; there's no return fire, nor issuing of commands, and then it's just a hunch.
But I know I'm close now, despite the distortion.
Bodies.
There are bodies everywhere. I didn't think I could vomit anymore, but I have to choke something back. All military, young, too. These kids look like they just went to sleep. I check the safety on a 460 and sling it around my shoulder, the dead fingers pried loosely from the weapon and I realize I just missed the party. I somehow just missed whatever happened here.
I press my head against the cold wall and wait for the next distortion wave. When it doesn't come I know I may have already missed Entroop. It seems strange that a shifter could miss anything. I'm tempted to go back a little, see if I can figure out what happened, but I remember what Gustav said and I don't want to press my luck. I want to make it home after all this, and shifting may sever my link.
I push on.
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Mar 21, 2011 9:04 PM
Segmented
by Dorge Kas
In the corner something was blinking in and out. There, then not. Having struggled so long against the distortion waves, vertigo was easily induced. Trying to focus on something that was flickering in and out of space was working a number on my head.
Remember the training. Look for the shadow. Confirm what you're seeing. I gripped the 460 and took a few steps closer.
My God.
I fight through the suppression and try to remember. I've seen this before when something had gone wrong at VChicago; a Controller screwed something up and one of us were caught between the fragments. It must have been early on in the program, all the kinks hadn't been ironed out. An Everett, like me, was stuck in some continuous loop, here then not. Riding the currents of time but not space, living some ghost existence.
I was seeing it again. I got as close as I dared to the figure appearing and disappearing in the damp corner. I felt like I was kneeling next to a coiled snake.
What had the Controllers done with that subject? Too many layers to fight through in my mind, but ending it mercifully doesn't seem like their style. I wonder if that poor soul is still flittering through the fragments like that.
I count the seconds between appearances, trying to determine how many lives he's existing in at once, but I forget the formula and can only guess.
When you see someone as all the possibilities fate, or chance has provided, it's hard to recognize them off-hand, because in this life they have short hair, in another half their ear is missing, hundreds of deviations, paths, and this bastard was living all of them at once. The only thing I can tell for sure is that this person was a part of Everett or Sebastian Group.
And then it clicks; I'm looking at Subject: J. And he doesn't appear to be much of a threat.
Gone.
A patch over his right eye, grinning, "...ok if I call you, 'Clock'?"
Gone.
Bald, scars criss-crossing his face, "...hated you all this time."
Gone.
Handsome, clear eyes, "...you're a pretty cool guy."
Gone.
Does he even know what's happening to him? Has he gone insane? I consider shifting to see if I can pull him out of the loop, when I remember why I'm here. I don't think he can understand me, I don't think he even sees me. But now I'm shaking and my breathe won't come, but I can at least do one thing for him: explain.
"Subject: J. You were a part of Sebastian Group of VChicago. You were number twenty-seven of forty. You, and three others, Subjects: R, D and V escaped from a quarantine and fled to this Time Fragment. The people who oversaw Sebastian Group, the Controllers, determined that the four of you constituted a threat to the time lines. You were tracked here, to this Time Fragment, because of a man named Entroop, whether the four of you were specifically looking for him, or he somehow contacted you, I do not know."
He doesn't hear every other word as he blinks in and out, but it's important for me to do this, so I continue.
"My name is Pedaf Truman. I'm from Everett Group of VChicago. My Controllers have sent me to kill you, and the other three."
Gone.
Long, stringy hair, impossibly pale, "-orget something aga-,"
The blinks were coming closer together.
I looked at the 460 in my hand and was amazed I still knew how to handle the weapon. Maybe not everything is suppressed. Then a thought, what if I fire this at the wrong time, just as he blinks out? Do I just keep firing until he happens to appear in this time? If Entroop is still down here that might be showing my cards a little early.
Gone.
Piercings stud his face, "-is time. I didn't die li-,"
I shift the rifle to my hip and grip the hilt of the Samurai sword, it is a well-made blade and it slides from its sheathe unerringly.
Gone.
Deeply tanned, smiling, "...get things back to normal, you kn-,"
I slowly slide the blade into the time-space Subject: J occupies, as he flits in and out of it. At once there is resistance, and then not. Resistance, then not, as I slide it home.
Gone.
Bearded, cold eyes, "...think I'm bleeding? Does...,"
His body slumps against my sword, no longer phasing in and out, the ghost flicker over, and I see him how he was in this Time Fragment; young, pragmatic. I can only pray that he only had to suffer one death. The thought of this scene playing out over and over again for him makes my stomach lurch. I have a feeling I've done this kind've work before but it doesn't appear to get any easier.
"I'm sorry, J."
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Mar 22, 2011 12:19 AM
Yesterday is Gone
by Negatively Positive
A gavel strikes wood (Or some comparable substance.) and The Arbiter speaks.
"The chair will now recognize The Director of time sector 033330, Covering the time period of Earth year 2000-2099. You may rise and address the committee, Director."
"Ladies and gentlemen of the committee, I want to thank you all for convening on such short notice. I assure you that I would not have called this emergency session were it not a matter of some urgency."
"I call you here today because I believe I am witnessing some sort of breakage in my sector. I have watched thousands of versions of sector 033330 unfold in my time as Director, and never have I witnessed such constant and persistent change. Major events are being skipped, or altered, and it all centers upon 4 anomalies who passed over from the previous sector. These 4 are supposed to die in the next week. But something is shifting around them and my people cant get a lock on where this situation will end."
The Arbiter looks agitated.
"Director... Correct me if I am wrong here... But surely you did not call us here at this hour to discuss a few cross sector variants? You know, as well as anyone here, that when fragments of time are bridged it creates some uncertainty in the futures of those who cross with it. The archives could cite billions of instances of varying degrees where someones future made a complete flip just because they were alive when the fragments are crossed."
"Sir I realize that... But I think the crossing of the fragments is being used to cover something up here. These four are not normal variants. When I accepted this post I was told to watch them like a hawk. I was told they would all meet their end in the year 2011, and then I wouldn't have to worry about them until the next restart. I was informed of this by VChicago controllers... which made no sense then, and it makes no sense now. Since when does VChicago stick their noses into time sector business?"
"One thing that I was never told is why? Why am I to watch them? They have names... But they have been referred to me as Subjects D, R, J, and one Subject V, who always seems to be a particularly touchy conversation point with anyone in Archives, or VChicago. But even though I supposedly hold the highest seat of power in my sector... I cant seem to get anybody to tell me who these guys are, or what they are supposed to be doing."
"It has never mattered before because things have always gone the way they told me it would go. But today, distinguished members of the committee... Today my sector is a big old 100 year clusterfuck."
The director stands eyeing the faceless members of the committee... All of them cloaked save for the Arbiter. The only proof that they were really there was the shimmer when they move. They all seemed to be looking to one another. Whispering. He had their attention. Good.
The Arbiter nods to an assistant and motions for a recess. A small pale man informs the Director that the Arbiter would see him privately. As he walks to the Arbiter's office he curses his own fortunes. "Any other sector..." He thinks. "Of all the fragments of time... I get stuck with this one... I get stuck in fucking VChicago's playground. They could have sent me to the dinosaurs... The fucking crusades... Anything. Calm down. Calm down. Don't play all your cards yet. You know more than you should. Don't paint a target on your back yet."
As he enters the office a woman silently takes his coat. She is young and reminds him of his own daughter back at Central Zero. It'll be a long time before he ever sees her or her mother again. Not for them obviously... For them it will be as nothing. And for all intents and purposes the same could be said for him. But time wears on you... Whether you're counting it in hours or lifetimes. Even if the body doesn't show what the soul knows.
The Arbiter asks the woman to shut the door as she leaves, and pours himself a drink.
"Can I interest you in a drink? Anything you can think of I have here. All exquisitely aged."
"No thank you sir."
"Suit yourself. Well... Seems we have a problem here."
"That we do sir."
"I'm unclear as to what exactly you are requesting of me Director. You know that VChicago does as it pleases, and there is little that I, or the committee as a whole can do about this."
"Yes sir. I understand that. But it is a little unorthodox that they would dictate policy on an entire sector of time. Perhaps I should have made a fuss about this earlier... I've noted it in all my reports... But everything always went as planned. But this Subject J... He's fucked it all up somehow. I cant tackle this without getting some bearing on what I'm dealing with here. What I request is that myself, and my assistant be given permission to shift to the previous fragment and speak with the director there... It would really help if I could get a handle on where these four individuals are coming from."
"Director... That is a large request... Listen... We know that something is going on in 033330. We've been monitoring the situation and I assure you it will be set right soon enough."
"By the Everett right?"
"... Where did you hear that?"
"Subject J made contact with one of my operatives... told him the Everett would take him. He is seeing all possible outcomes now. I'm told that ability should have burned itself out years ago. But I guess somebody at VChicago forgot to carry the one, or divide by pi, or whatever it is that they do up there... Look can we just please shift back to 1900-1999? I wont make a big operation out of this... I just need to talk to that Director and observe these four to try and figure out what is going on here."
"I'm afraid that simply isn't possible Director."
"Isn't possible? Forgive me for being blunt sir, but it is common fucking procedure in dealing with variants... I can cite the archives just as well as any-fucking-body else here."
"You don't seem to understand me Director. That fragment of time is... unavailable right now. We cannot send you there... we cannot retrieve anyone from there. This information is far above your pay grade, but you need to understand that you cannot go there, and you cannot push this any further."
"Unavailable? How the hell is an entire fragment of time unavailable?"
"I told you this is above your pay grade. Look... Just go back to your sector and do your job. You're good at your job. You work a tough sector... 9/11, Iraq, Justin Bieber, and that business with the meteor later. Everyone sees this, and everyone takes notice of it. The problem with your variants will soon be remedied and we can all get back to business as usual. A few more cycles, and before you know it you'll be back on Central Zero with that wife and daughter of yours. But for right now you need to let this go, and wait for us to settle it."
The Director stands and adjusts his tie.
"I'll show myself out. Thank you for your time Arbiter."
The Arbiter downs the rest of his drink and sighs.
"You can shift in now Forester. You spooks cant sneak up on me remember? I may be old, but I'm not stupid."
"Hello Arbiter. Dr. Everett sends his regards."
"Dr. Everett? They sent you back... errr... Forward that far?"
"They send me everywhere sir. I've been informed that Pedaf has been dispatched in this fragment. I would very much like to see him."
"That's not a good idea. We've discussed this."
"Forgive me... My memory you see. Anyway, the meeting with that man... It did not seem to go well. Do you think he will become a problem?"
"Maybe... this is the first time he's ever gotten involved. The dominoes seem to be falling in new directions. I guess time will tell."
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Mar 23, 2011 5:54 PM
Entroop's Datalogs
by Negatively Positive
I had another conversation with Subject J today.
As far as I can tell he is still under the impression that the four "escaped" from VChicago. Therefore, as my records show, it is likely that Subject V is still the only one with knowledge of the true purpose of their arrival in this time period.
I have had no luck ascertaining the location of any of the other three through conversation with J. Even in his confused state he shows great resistance to my interrogation devices. Any mention of the others is met with talking in circles, or outright anger. I'm not sure if this is some form of protection, or if his mind simply cannot process the information. 3 days ago he attacked me with a toaster at the mention of Subject V. Why he had a toaster down here, I do not know.
He is distressed by the diminishing of his ability to look forward in time. It is amazing to me that he has retained any use of it at all, being that his alignment was solely with the previous time sector. Yet still he glimpses forward from time to time within this new sector. My only explanation of this is that it must have something to do with his strange connection to previous versions of himself from past restarts. He claims to have had a vision in the 1990's of events that would take place this year. I am skeptical of this as that would be akin to watching a baseball game on Earth from the surface of Pluto.
I fear that I may be giving him too much information. At first he was showing an uncanny resistance to the memory suppression device. It is easier for me to retrieve information from him if I am forthcoming with my information as well. But the suppression device should make what he learns all but evaporate as soon as it is processed. After making some modifications to my device it seemed that this problem was solved. But I wonder... He seems to use his deteriorated mental state as a disguise. He masks his true intentions with it. Would it not be to his advantage for me to believe he had forgotten all that we discuss?
I have constructed a device that should realign J with this sector of time. It is a crude version of the realignment chamber used on VChicago, but I had to make due with what I could find. The Director of this sector is a shrewd man, and I fear that shifting around through time to locate the necessary parts may have already alerted him to my presence here. However, I felt this worth the risk considering what is at stake.
The dangers of using this device are numerous. I have many tests yet to run, but of the many faults it will likely destroy itself with the first operation. The amount of energy needed is simply not practical for this time period, and I fear the damage may be widespread. I have placed it deep underground in a maze of sorts in an attempt to minimize needless destruction. Also, its effects on Subject J will likely be fatal. At first he will feel rejuvenated, but as time passes it will accelerate his dementia to levels where he will simply cease to function. However, for a few days his abilities will likely be off the charts. I deem this to be a necessary step, considering the fact that he will die soon anyway.
I've taken a great many risks to get where I am today. The other controllers will likely hunt me for eternity. But I cannot stop now. Soon I will be beyond their reach.
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Mar 23, 2011 8:55 PM
Heed
by Dorge Kas
When my first daughter was born feeding her was a challenge. She didn't want to latch for breastfeeding and the formulas weren't working. She would just vomit everything up moments after ingesting it, which led to incessant crying.
First-time parents waiting for CPS to knock down the door because we couldn't get our baby to eat.
Regular formula, expensive. Soy formula, more expensive. Hydrolyzed formula, most expensive, but it was the only thing that worked. When it's your baby, it doesn't matter if the only thing she'll eat is milk from a bald eagle, you'll get it.
"It's hydrolyzed because the protein is already broken down," my wife supplies.
All this seems so long ago that it's hard to remember. Me standing in the kitchen, mixing this yellow chalk with water so it would be ready the next day. Or cramming as much as I could of the formula into the grocery cart when it was on sale. It was hard. I can't imagine doling out twenty-five bucks a pop for that formula now, I don't see how we did it then. The CPS didn't come. Our baby was healthy, and fed, and warm. She still is. It's hard to get her to eat her greens, and negotiating twenty jelly beans down to ten is always trying, but she's healthy, fed and warm.
I have a lot to be thankful for.
On Friday, March 11, a 9.0 earthquake ravaged Japan.
The water has become contaminated from the radiation emitting from the damaged Fukushima Daiichi nuclear facility.
Japan’s Health, Labor and Welfare Ministry has advised people not to give the water to infants.
http://www.redcross.org/
Go now. Help.
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Mar 24, 2011 6:22 PM
Segmented
by Dorge Kas
"Link accepted, you're a go, Controller Gustav."
The Arbiter looked at the communications tech and waited, a faint static emitting from the speaker.
The tech avoided the Arbiter's eyes and tweaked the dials a little more, "Go ahead, Controller."
"..ere? This is Controller Gustav, do we have link?"
"Ye-,"
"We can hear you fine, Gustav. What's the situation down there?" the Arbiter leaned over the speaker.
"Everett 32 has eliminated Subject: J. I repeat, Subject: J eliminated."
The Arbiter pursed his lips, "That's excellent, Controller. I was a little worried how working with an Everett might be for you," he paused, seemingly unsure. "Controller, how closely are you following '32'?"
Silence, then, "He reports to me regularly, sir. Is there a concern?"
"I'm afraid Everett 16 may be taking an interest in this."
"I see, sir. Is there anyone from Sebastian Group who might...curtail him?"
The Arbiter sighs, "You're the only Controller I trust over there, and with you in the field, it's tricky. And with Foreste-ah, '16' so close to the Doctor, I don't know if I want to go that route. I just need you to keep your eyes open, least they decide to get involved."
"I understand, sir," Gustav said, his voice distant over the time lines.
"You're doing good work, we should be able to wrap this up soon."
"Thank you, sir."
The Arbiter motions for the tech to sever the link, but then, "Sir, did you 'OK' the Director sending in the military? These Time Fragments are easily collapsible, a force that size cou-,"
"Link severed, Arbiter," the tech said, shutting down the equipment.
"Dismissed."
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Mar 24, 2011 7:23 PM
Whole Damn World Fallin' Apart
by Negatively Positive
Larry the janitor had never seen an office so desolate.
The offices of the Orbital Anvil Drop Station blog didnt appear to have been used in weeks.
Whole damn world fallin' apart, he figured these computer jockeys would be in here writing about it. Even Pete hadn't been in for days. Pete was a nice kid but even Larry could tell that he didnt do much. But sometimes he'd chat with Pete about his girlfriend and how his life was going. He liked talking to young people. Larry had started to feel like that wise old man you meet when you're a pup who chats with you about things like your girlfriend and your job.
Truth be told thats why he took a job cleaning office buildings in the first place. It's not like he needed the money... retired military with a good pension and a nice little nest egg on top of it. Larry just liked to get out and mingle with the young folks, and remember what it's like when you've got your whole life ahead of you.
He noticed the boss's door had been left open. That was a big no no. Larry knew that he wasnt supposed to go in there but there was something broken on the floor. "Pete..." he thought. "That damn fool kid has been in here living the high life, and knocked over Mr. J's statue." Larry crept into the room and cleaned up the mess, taking care not to touch anything else while he was in there. The jewels from the statue he collected in a ziplock bag and placed on Mr J.'s desk.
He then penned a short note apologizing to Mr. J. for breaking the statue and taking full responsibility. Probably get fired for being in there but he could give a fuck. "Kid's got his whole life ahead of him." he thought. "No use losing his job over this nonsense... But when I catch that boy we're going to have a talk."
Back out into the main offices, Larry went to survey the rest of the place. Nothing else really to clean, so he thought he might head home to the wife. She hadnt been feeling very well lately with all this crazy business back in her homeland.
Larry had met his wife in Japan on his final tour. They fell in love immediately and before he knew it they were married and headed back to the states. They still visited her family from time to time when they werent busy with the kids or the grandkids or whatever else. But with the big quake that struck a couple weeks back, things over there werent so great... tsunamis... radiation... "Whole damn world fallin' apart." He thought.
Satisfied his job was done here Larry flipped out all the lights and prepared to make his departure. But then he noticed Pete's computer had been left on. It looked like the kid was actually thinking about posting something but all he had up on the screen was a blank sheet with no title.
Larry wasnt much for computers but he figured any idiot could type up a blog and press publish. So he decided to place a red cross link for anyone who might be interested in donating to the cause of helping the Japanese people. Only problem was Larry couldnt remember what the link was... So he had to copy and paste it from Weapon Mods next door... They would have loved that huh?
http://www.redcross.org/
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Mar 24, 2011 9:50 PM
Another Day at the Office
by Negatively Positive
A team of scientists swarm around a body in the basement of the Thornbelle building, under the watchful eye of the director's young assistant.
"Alright Nye... What've we got here?"
The Director's voice startles her from a contemplative glance at the corpse in front of her.
"Director, sir, I thought you were meeting with the committee?"
"Yeah well... it was brief... I'll fill you in later. Give me details here."
"Sir, you really shouldn't be down here... The area isn't secure enough for..."
"Nye... Please. I've had a shit day, I've got a splitting headache, and this coffee tastes like it was made with toilet water. Just tell me what the hell we've got here."
"Don't get frustrated" she thinks. "Its why he hired you... You keep your cool". She takes a calming breath and taps three buttons on her bracelet in sequence to alert the guard captain to send an extra detail downstairs.
"Yes sir... Well it would appear that we have a deceased Subject J. One of our crews found the body while they were down here cleaning up the last evidence of the uh... Mishap... with Captain Davis's men. We're not sure how he got back here or why. He must have come back for something."
"He shifted here."
"Sir? how can you tell?"
"I can just tell. How did he die?"
"Uhm, well it looks to be a puncture wound of some sort... Maybe a long knife or a sword?"
The director takes a sip of coffee and rubs his eyes "Did you say a sword?"
"Yes sir."
"Right... why not... why fucking not? What else have we got?"
"Well he had a few items on his person... Whoever killed him didn't seem interested. His things are on the table there." She gestures to a small table in the corner set up beside a portable research station. "There was a notebook."
The director examines the contents of the table. iPod, headphones, some change, Swiss Army Knife and a notebook. He almost laughs at the thought of a time shifter carrying a Swiss Army Knife, and picks up the notebook to leaf through it.
"Few pages of notes... Lots of drawings... The last twelve pages are drawings of a clock with a smiley face?"
"That... does fit his profile does it not sir?"
"Yes, I suppose it does."
A small man in an archives uniform sheepishly approaches.
"Uhmm.... Sir... " he stammers "Sir that uh... That item hasn't been cataloged yet."
"You're fucking kidding me with this right?"
"Uhmm... well sir its just that... Well I'm supposed to... Well its just that Jones... he's very picky about these things and I'm sort of already on his shit list..."
"Whatever kid... Catalog the fucking thing." He throws the book back to the table "I want this place cleared out people. I want all these items back at headquarters and the body comes too. Nye, I need to talk to you privately. And where the fuck did all of these guards come from? Jesus Christ can I turn around without running into one of you people? Help these men load their equipment."
The Director and his assistant return to the surface where they duck into a side office.
"So what did the Arbiter say? Are we shifting back?"
"No... There is something wrong back there... They wont tell me what. When I pressed the issue he made sure to mention my wife and daughter just so I remember he knows where they are. That tells me something sinister is going on here."
"He threatened your family? Sir that's..."
"He didn't threaten my family Nye... He made sure I remembered that he knew about them... There is a difference."
"So are we dropping this?"
"Fuck no we're not dropping it. I've arranged for a warning to be sent to Central Zero through a trusted channel. If they think they're going to scare my family they've obviously never met my wife. But the reason I wanted to talk to you was... Well I'm going to end up stepping on some toes here. It could get dangerous. You're a great asset but I'm not going to drag you into this if you're not will..."
"I'm with you sir."
He allows a slight grin "I thought you might say that. So where are we with the Gaw situation?"
"Nothing concrete yet. But I will have an answer soon."
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Mar 25, 2011 9:18 AM
A Visit to the Archives
by Negatively Positive
It is late in the evening. A lone figure travels the halls of the archives building in a lab coat.
Jones from Archives was a very reserved man.
He was very well known by everyone within the organization... But you wouldn't really call him respected. You wouldn't even really call him feared. he was however, quite diligent. That kept even the hot tempered director from kicking him out on his ass somewhere.
Jones hadn't been with the organization as long as some of his peers, but he climbed the ranks very quickly. He grew up in Canton Ohio. The son of an engineer, and a school teacher. Nothing much to do in Canton besides visit the pro football hall of fame (Jones hated football) and study. He always had good grades and was never really well liked by any of his classmates.
But one day everything changed for Jones. They told him it was a hiccup in time... Some kind of malfunction within the fragment (he never really studied how the fragments worked... he preferred not to think about it). He had gone to the mall with his parents that day, and somehow or another a portion of southern Canton just stopped. Jones was right outside the line, with his parents on the other side. They stared at him lifelessly. Even the color seemed to drain from them. He thought it was a bad dream, but he couldn't seem to wake up.
Then the people arrived... Strange folks in uniform. The Director was there... Looking exactly as he does now. Some men took him away from there and got him something to drink. They told him everything would be alright soon.
But everything was not alright.
They managed to restart most of the area without any hassle. But 13 people couldn't be restored, 2 of which were the Jones's from Canton.
So the director took an interest in the boy (or maybe it was pity) and placed him within the archive training program.
Despite the loss of his family, he was quite happy in archives. He didn't have to deal with any of the "normal" people. All he had to do was study the history of items collected from various time streams, and their significance to the current stream. For a time, Jones was actually quite happy. He worked late nights, and most times slept in the office.
Jones was very diligent.
But this man is not Jones from archives. Though he has been made to look like him.
Jones from archives is dead. Stuffed in a maintenance locker on level B5. This man is something... Different.
"Good evening Professor Jones." Said the security guard captain.
"Evening gentlemen. Are the Subject J items collected from Thornbelle in storage here?"
"Yes sir. The field team checked them in about an hour ago."
"Excellent."
Knives.
3 guards dead.
"Have to move quickly now..." He thinks. "Next patrol will pass soon."
He drags the bodies out of view and removes the uniform from one of them. Replacing his lab coat with the guard's clothes. He then removes a small clip from the back of his ear. As it is removed his face changes to a younger man. Late 20's, messy hair. He scans the dead guard's face with the device and then clips it back behind his ear. Instantly his face projects a new image of the killed guard.
The man then enters the archive storage vault with the guard captain's passkey and recovers a tattered notebook.
As he exits the vault room he passes a patrol in hall. He tips his hat and says "Going for coffee."
As he turns the corner he bursts into a sprint.
30 seconds later alarms are raised but it is too late. He planned his escape very carefully.
Once he makes the street he ducks into an alley and removes the clip from his ear, and the guard's clothes. An unassuming young man in unassuming garb.
He then removes a com device from his pocket and presses a code.
"I need to speak to V."
a moment of pause. and then a voice comes through
"Yes?"
"V... This is R. I have the notebook."
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Mar 27, 2011 10:58 PM
Butterfly
by Dorge Kas
She examines the open suitcase in front of her and wondered if having to tote all this stuff around was going against the point of the trip. She took out her hair dryer and placed it on the bed beside the suitcase, imagining seeing it there when she got back.
She chides herself for already coming back in her head. She closes the suitcase and carries it to the front door, committing to herself that she would add nothing more, nor be tempted to take anything else out. She eyes the suitcase cautiously, she was forgetting something; but the washing machine dinged and she went to transfer her sheets to the dryer. Nothing like your own bed and clean sheets when you got back from a trip.
That's what she thinks now, she wondered if she would come back different, and so think something different? She wasn't young enough to hope for that.
Keys, wallet, passport.
She lookes out her peephole out of habit, leaning her weight against the door. She thought the phone would ring soon, and when it does it still startles her. She sat on the edge of the stool so she wouldn't get comfortable, wouldn't let her body trick her into a long conversation. She winced when she said, "Mom," because it sounded like she was still a teenager. She cradled the phone with her shoulder and pantomimed tying bows with her fingers, talking to her mother distractedly. Her mother wanted to know what This Whole Trip was supposed to Be About and she didn't know how to answer her, so she just repeated how long she'd be gone. She thanked God she didn't have any animals because having to ask her mother to take care of them would've been unbearable.
That's when it occurs to her that if she had had animals, her mother was the only person she could have called. She looks at how long the call took before she presses END and powers it down. She places it neatly in a drawer and wonders if she should leave herself a note as to where he phone is. But she decides that the hairdryer on the bed will be enough of a reminder of how banal she was, and turns away from the deposited device.
In the store last night she stood in the cosmetics section looking at several versions of the same woman for seven minutes. She thought 'seven' because 'ten' is what everyone says. Despite the promises of "Ravishing Red" and "Brunette Brevity" she decided not to color her hair, as that would only substitute the change she was going to make.
In the airport today, she's happy with the decision she made as she provides her passport and its photo identification.
On the plane she accepts, please-thank you, an apple juice and crumples the foil lid in her hand. Just a few weeks ago she would have folded neatly, and she certainly wouldn't have deposited it onto the floor. She had changed.
In the cab shes asks the driver, "What's that smell?" and hopes she sounds demanding.
She scatters the contents of her suitcase onto the hotel floor and pulls off her clothes. In she shower she breaths in the steam, and as she exhales it pulls with it the old lining of herself, vaporizing in the air. She watches the water well in her hands and she lets it fall with a satisfying splash. She will misuse this facility. She will use up all the hot water in this hotel. She will drain the watersheds of this country for her shower.
She leaves wet foots prints on the carpet and stands at the window naked. She can see the pool below but is looking at her reflection. Inside, she thrashes against this image of herself, inside, she wants to pull the flesh back.
At the bar she shrugs at the bartender, the music is too loud and she doesn't understand his language. The drink he brings her is tart and burns her throat but she likes it. She knows she will never have it again and will never know the name for it.
Her hand is on the man's knee and she wonders if he plays soccer. She smiles when he laughs and wonders what his bare chest looks like. Her old self would be worried about waking up with a few less organs. She was different now, she thinks as her hand rides up his thigh.
In her room she pushes him onto the bed and grinds down against him. Her nails wrench into his chest and he squirms from the pain. She is full of him and his hands are on her wrists, she relinquishes some of the control and hopes he will sleep here so she can fantasize about killing him.
She is shopping in some district and she thinks she sees him, but doesn't. She is about to buy her mother something, but doesn't. She considers taking interest in a game of chess two men are playing, but doesn't. Instead, she tosses a glass Pepsi bottle down a flight of stairs and grits her teeth against the noise.
She drinks the water because she's not supposed to and considers peeing in the ocean. She changes her mind and decides to go back to her room; the destruction is waning and she thinks the metamorphosis is almost complete.
This time on the plane she does not accept a drink. Instead she counts her teeth, over and over, with the tip of her tongue. She wonders if she would instinctively know how to break an animal's neck, like a cat. She thinks about watching her fingertips as a child, trying to watch them grow.
No one knew when she would be back, but she still feels a little disappointed there's no one waiting for her at the airport. She scans the crowd around her slowly, as if she is looking for someone in particular. Instead, she is taking stock of all the people she owns. She imagines leaving footprints in the thin carpet as if it were sand, she was different now.
Her suitcase is the first to appear at the baggage claim and she considers leaving it there, but in the end doesn't.
In the cab she asks, "What's the smell?" but she really doesn't smell anything. The driver sounds apologetic anyways.
Her mother isn't waiting outside the burned-out shell of her house because she didn't know when she would be back. Standing on the sidewalk, her tongue feels like a swollen sausage inside her mouth. The cab driver can think of nothing to say except, "You're sure this is it?"
Caution tape makes a perimeter around her yard and the siding is blackened where the flames licked out her windows. From here, the roof looks relatively untouched, like a lid on top of a jar of havoc.
Once they realize she's back, the neighbors begin to slowly file out of their houses. Some strange ritual is about to commence, made all the more unquieting because they don't know her name. A man in a polo shirt reaches out to touch her arm then thinks better of it. An old woman admonishes that everyone thought she was in there when the house was burning, no one knew where she was.
The fire inspector had determined that the point of origin for the fire had been the dryer; the only thing inside had been sheets, maybe curtains.
She can't allow these people to see her laughing, and she wonders what she'll have to think about to get herself to cry. She gets back into the cab and tells the driver where she wants to go.
This time she does leave her suitcase, there on the sidewalk.
She stretches her wings and blazes with color.
Metamorphosis complete.
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Segmented
Mar 31, 2011
by Dorge Kas
"So, Entroop was gone by the time you got here?" Controller Gustav asked, preoccupied with the enormity of the room they were standing in.
"Yes, at least I couldn't find him," Pedaf said, laying his sword down on a table amidst some clutter.
The room smelled vaguely of chemical and grass. Overhead lights strummed and went dark, only to flicker back to life, making the shadows dance macabre. Tables were scattered around the room in some tantric pattern, but there were no chairs. On top of the tables were papers, everywhere, but completely blank, some crumpled or ripped, but blank; there were no writing instruments anywhere.
In the center of the room some hulk of a machine stretched into the shadows overhead, humming softly. Cables poured from its center axis, thick and greasy, but didn't seem to lead to anything, diodes raced up and down in tiny constellations, the ribs of it heaved.
"What do you make of it?" Gustav said, holding his palm to the machine as if it were a fire.
"Sir? I don't know," Pedaf checked the battery of the 460 Rifle and slid the clip back in with a satisfying snap. "I'm sure it's responsible for the distortion waves, but whatever else it does, hell if I know."
Gustav flipped through some of the papers on a table, sorting them into neat stacks, "I wonder what all this is, I'll have to get it to a tech."
"What are you going to do with the body?"
"Subject: J? Send it back to VChicago," Gustav shrugged.
Pedaf picked the sword up, then set it back down. He rolled his neck and looked towards the ceiling, "I guess I thought he'd be the hardest one to find, just, I dunno, from the pictures. From what archives said, it's a little strange, feels strange, right?"
"All it means is: One Down, Pedaf. Three to go."
"Three? What about Entroop?" Pedaf asked, lowering his eyes to the Controller.
"When Entroop is apprehended he will stand trial on VChicago," Gustav said, then added, "according to the Director."
Lucidity flits through Pedaf's face and disappears just as quickly. He's tempted to pull out the card he'd been fingering in his pocket to see what it says, knowing it's something important but for some reason doesn't want the Controller to see him do this. His fingers also touch against something else, something he took from Subject: J, but he doesn't want the Controller seeing that, either.
"Pedaf?"
Pedaf, that's it. Pedaf. Everett. VChicago.
"Pedaf, you still with me here?" Gustav pressed.
"Y-yes," Pedaf stammered, "I was just wondering if you'd be contacting the Director, to report."
Gustav seemed to study Pedaf before answering, then shrugs, "Soon enough, if we can establish a link. I'd also like to find out what the military's doing here."
"Military?"
"Forget about all the bodies piled up out there? Forget you're holding a Class 460 Rifle?" Gustav's eyes penetrated.
Pedaf gripped the device in his pocket, yes, some listening device Subject: J had been wearing, that's what it was. What did it do? Something about the distortion waves? Why didn't he want Controller Gustav to know he had it? He pulled his hand out of his pocket, lest he give himself away. "No, I didn't forget, it just seems too...clandestine to be military."
"Really? I was just thinking it was too military to be clandestine. But you're probably on the right track, this just may be sand in our eyes, this whole thing," Gustav said, abruptly turning to the exit.
"What about all this?" Pedaf said.
"Well, we'll have to talk about that," said the man cutting Gustav off at the door, dressed in fatigues and leveling his own 460 at the two. "What are you two doing down here?"
Controller Gustav didn't offer an answer, or even step back, "Lower your weapon Captain Davis," he said, crossing his arms.
"My God, is that an Everett?"