A Whateley Academy Tale
Merry Meet, Merry Part,
and Merry Meet Again.
By Renae
With a special thanks to Kristin, Babs
Yeruncle & Hart.
Without whom there would have been a long delay
for editing and getting this piece out.
(Authors note:
Some of the dates were off track in Merry #1. With luck that should not happen
too much. Sorry, I missed it on the edit :} Mea Culpa)
Chudan-no-Kamae
Friday, October 13, 2006
“If I sing a
song, will you sing along? If I sing a song, will you sing along, or should I
just keep singing right here by myself?” –Sing Along- Blue Man Group
There
was no real light to awaken me, just the pressing call of nature. It wasn’t
necessarily cold nor was it really warm in the sewer tunnel. Fortunately, or
unfortunately my dad had taken me camping a few times in rustic areas. I made
up a new rule for myself. “Crap or what not goes on the left side of tunnels”
so you don’t have to run through it. Don’t confuse the two sides.
I
made my way back to my pile of blankets. I was glowing brightly so light was
not a real problem. Breakfast was five power bars and a Coke. It had filled the
hole mostly but damn, that was over fifteen hundred calories. I was still
hungry so I found the two chocolate bars and finished them off as well. I sat
on my blankets, and toyed with the large knife. Dumb, leave your weapons out of
reach and you get fifty push ups, said a note in the Ranger Handbook.
I
groaned at the thought, crud if I didn’t toughen up somewhat, I was going to be
rat bait. I tried my gym teacher’s version of the push up and noted that my
hips didn’t work that way anymore. “If you can’t do a regular push up like a
man, you can do pussy push ups. Like a ‘girl’.” The coach was fond of
his manhood. Screw him. Having both knees on the ground was less painful
though fifty was still a large number.
I
was hardly panting when I finished. “Great, so I can do more pushups as a girl
than I could do as a boy,” I commented to the sewer. I rolled over and looked
up, light was faintly drifting down through the holes in the manhole cover. I
checked the PDAs clock it was nine thirty in the morning, fine. Well I had a
good nights sleep; but I can’t move out and abroad until three o’clock,
possibly noon. If you can’t go up then go down.
I
spent a few minutes looking over the map of the sewer then turned the PDA off.
I put the GPS card into the satchel as no satellites were going to get through
this much rock. I did a few basic stretches. After which I put everything away.
I kept the big knife out of the pack and stuck it in its sheath, and tucked it
into my pants at the small of my back.
Since I was not planning on running into any cops in the sewer
system I figured at-hand was better than out-of-reach. I pulled the jacket on
but left it open. I picked up this, that and basically made sure I had my
stuff. Most importantly I had my spike. Ok so I have screwy sense of
priorities.
I re-arranged the hilt of the knife from where it was not
digging into my back. One thing I had learned last night was that running with
all this gear was a pain in the butt. I wasn’t too concerned with the robber
getting at the shopkeeper. I just hoped the shopkeeper was vague about what had
happened and who had done it. Don’t kid yourself, you didn’t check for
security cameras. That inner voice was getting to be a real pain in the ass,
even if it was right.
Ok,
a day of spelunking was in order; I stayed down the right side of the tunnels,
out of the mess. I had a niggling hunch that I was missing something;
eventually I might have this life I could get back to as a ‘girl’. I was really
beginning to hate that voice in my head. Ok so talking to yourself is a sign
of insanity, what else is news?
A
ladder, up or down? I flipped a mental coin and went down. Down, down and more
down. Who the blazes makes a three story ladder that goes down to um, hell?
This had to be so much deeper than the subway was. Finally I hit bottom or an
approximation of bottom, actually I think I hit bottom a few days ago, maybe.
It was a wide cavern and from what little I could tell of it, it went on and on
and on. I had nothing better to do, so I went with it. Idly I noted rows and
bundles of power cables and junction boxes, odd perhaps but not a threat.
After
a time it seemed to grow lighter in the cavern, at least to my eyes. I was not
exactly certain how anyone else would view the massive lines of power running
down the length of the cavern. Left said or right side? On the left side I
could step in crap, so right side it was. Mentally things began to grow
hazy, although I had a direction to walk in. Somewhere along the way I knew I
was humming. Literally, that voice in my head thing again. I was good
and drunk, no tequila necessary. No don’t ask, I may never touch the stuff again.
Each step that I took felt like it was
taking hours and longer to happen; to my eyes, everything was becoming solidly
blue and white. The white light that was radiating from the power lines and was
overwhelmingly intense that it felt my eyes were burning into the back of my
head, eventually something was going to have to give. All that white was not
going to give, so I had to. My view of Cyberspace had been changed somewhat by
the Light Cycle speedster. “Function or effect is a matter of will.” That was
from the Whateley Meditation and Powers Guide.
I sat down, reached into the satchel and turned the laptop on.
“Damn it Jim I am a Programmer not a Wizard.” I shouted into the
dazzling light, “All this white goes NOW!” I pushed with something and my world
was now only blue. Much better. I gave it a horizon, a black space with moving
stars. “I define this subset, as World.” I leapt up into that space; I waved
a hand “Hello World.” At my wave the text in fifty foot tall letters was
repeated all across my sky.
I
commanded the laptop to “/traceAllRoutes”, suddenly all the lines that flowed
across my world were blue. I was nude and blue as well. While this may not seem
like a problem; I wanted clothes. Someone was all ready doing Tron, that was a
limit he put on his world. Obviously he had more practice, as his world wrote
itself onto mine. I didn’t want limits. Limits were something other people had,
my world, my rules, no limits. I created a subset of rules, your worlds are a
subset of mine. “All your bases belong to me.” That felt right.
Perhaps
I was drunk or something, I didn’t care. Yori from Tron had looked good. I
discarded the circuit patterning and helmet, and then I used shades of darker
blue to highlight the bodysuit. I gave it a belt and hung my spike from it. I
added the half tunic from the movie I embellished the half tunic with a thick
jagged blue lightning bolt.
My
hair was as messy as it was in the Outside; hmm I needed to define the outside,
ok that felt weird. “Translation is codified by desire.” My hair would
be perfect in my world, as I saw it. My world was empty of people though there
were others out there and I didn’t want to share it with just anyone.
NEXT
were my allies, maybe not the best of allies but they could have left me in a
drug-induced coma. I reached to digital version of my semi-dormant PDA. It was
cumbersome and would look better as a bracer like in Predators. I suited it to
my new form, it flowed and reformed on my left arm as an armguard with a set of
blades that I could extend and retract.
I
selected a node and host. I touched the node and pushed; I was there. I stood
before a door, after a bit I gave it four knocks. It did not open, “Fine.” I
took my spike and slammed it into the door, the door shattered in a shower of
broken bytes. There were many lines that led from the door. As I stepped
through the doorway, I could hear an annoying jangle of alarms. If I wanted
noise there was music. “/silenceAlarms.” The alarms obliged and quit. “/findFriend
Tammy.”
One
line illuminated, so I tapped it with a toe, “/chatRoomInvite Tammy.” I created
the chat room, opened a door to it and sat down in a recliner. A handy
projector put text on one wall, I told the door it was private.
Tammy was long
in coming to the room. I flicked through the newsgroups, “/findReference Chad
Wilson” I was not too surprised to find myself listed in
Alt.Palm.Theory.Moderated. Also I was found in Alt.Mutants,
Alt.Mutant.Die.Die.Die, and Alt.AI.Unmoderated and of all places
Alt.Mutant.Hero.
I
was annoyed at the A.M.D.D.D. one, but I left those morons alone; they had the
same mentality of Alt.Discussion.StarTrek.Westly.Die.Die.Die. I lurked through
the A.P.T.M and the others. Tammy was taking w-a-y too long. I told the wall
to access her terminal. I told it to display me in ‘out time’ on her monitor.
“Hello Tammy.” I spoke to the air.
I
found that she had a web cam, I reached into her computer and turned it on. She
was in a pale green blouse that looked so much better than the corporate rat
suit she was wearing when I had last seen her; but she looked shocked when I
went “Knock, knock.”
“Hello?”
She typed.
“Tada,
it’s Merry,” I addressed her image.
“Did
you just blow through a Firewall?” she typed again.
“Hey,
I knocked four times, please turn your microphone on,” I complained.
“Let
me look at the event log ok?” She typed and moved her mouse around.
I
gave her back half of her screen, “Go ahead.” I let her do her thing. She had
some interesting expressions most of which bordered on shock and amusement.
“Merry,
just where are you?” Finally a voice.
“From
last night’s location beacon, I am down the sewer drain that was in the park,
about a quarter of a mile along it. Then I went down about three stories worth
of ladder into a long assed cavern. I went right at that point. It is a long
walk and there are lots of heavy assed power lines down here for some reason. I
learned a few things about myself.”
“Oh?”
her voice sounded odd. I really needed to work on that translation protocol.
“Yeah,
if I am all charged up and if I am near a very fast computer. The level of
control I have over events and my environment in Cyberspace is downright
unreal.” I sighed, “I also have a real problem; I’m also vulnerable as hell
when I am in Cyberspace. I cannot monitor my outside body. I can get out, I
think. Unfortunately, my body is playing vegetable at the moment, and I cant
‘feel’ it or even sense it for that matter.”
“Not
good.” Her voice was distorted so maybe she just needed a better mike.
“It
gets better, I don’t need a direct connection to the Internet to access it.” I
sighed. “I just have to be near a network and have something more powerful than
a PDA to enter it.”
“Any
idea on why?”
“I
think the processor or something acts like a booster, or a super charger.” I
shrugged. “The effect with the PDA is much less potent. It does have a range
though. I have to be within a yard of the laptop which has to be on.”
“Ok
I am looking at the time on the ‘knocks,’ and the time the Firewall went down.
Sweetie if I remember right the laptop’s clock runs at about ten gigahertz.”
“That
sounds about right. Are there supposed to be any power lines and a network
down here?” I looked at my armband, “I don’t see any listed for this area.”
“Checking
my copy.” She frowned, “No I have the same information. Also we need to get
you something much slower or find a way for you to slow the clocks or both. You
may be risking burning out at the speed you are doing things.”
“I
have another problem; I can’t get enough food without raising a red flag some
place. I checked out one of the books Bill gave me. Not a lot of relevant
information, but I am some sort of Energizer.” I gave her a look of annoyance.
“I know I am out here with the lions, but the logistics of keeping me
physically on par are screwed up.”
“We
didn’t have time for a full battery of tests.”
“I
gathered that. The Rangers Guide, from Bill, has the typical ‘human’ Ranger
needing over nine thousand calories for an active day. I had five power bars,
2 candy bars and a Coke for breakfast and I was still hungry.” I looked at her,
“See my problem?”
“That
is roughly eighteen to nineteen hundred calories. Less than a third or less of
what you likely need,” she frowned.
“Which
brings me to last night. I had to eat a lot of burgers and fries before
I was full. Not to mention having some bad luck with a robber in a used
bookstore,” I sighed. “Maybe there was a surveillance system; I didn’t look for
one at the time so I don’t know. I zapped the gunman after blacking out the
store. I ran like hell afterwards, though I may have left prints on the
outside door.”
“You are not a
trained field agent kiddo,” she pointed out.
“No kidding, I
bet Bill is laughing his ass off.” I said with a frown.
“Merry Candice
Powell, you can stop that right now,” she looked at the camera rather sternly.
“Bill is very happy with you. He will be happier still once he knows you caught
your own mistakes.”
I smiled; my dad
had only been happy with trophies. “Ok. I can handle everything but the food
problem without blowing my cover any worse than I may have or ending up
nonfunctional from starvation.” I sighed, “What is it with this cavern? I can
possibly get out on my own but I don’t think it is supposed to be networked or
powered like this.”
“Ok, we’ll get a
reconnaissance team on it once you give us a location burst when you get out.”
She looked at her clock, “The laptop batteries should be good for another solid
four hours. Maybe less, we don’t know if you can affect the drain or not. If
you don’t give us a burst by six hours from now, we’ll send a very large team
to get you out.”
“I need a way to
monitor my body with the laptop, I can tap its files with a snap. It should be
able to give me some data, in here.” I waved around the pseudo room. “Also I am
gonna have to eat badly. I can do the burger thing and power bar bit a few more
days, but it is going to get freaking obvious.” I gave her a look. “I know my
body is tougher some how, but dumpster diving for food is really gross and not
too helpful either. “ I held up a hand. “I’ll do it if I have to, but jeeze.”
“We could pull
you out.” She offered.
“Not yet, I
would hate to break up another office pool.” I winked, “Make them earn it.” I
frowned, “On the other pool, have they broke it yet?”
“Not yet.” She
grinned, “I am going clean up.”
“Right,
something odd about the Alt.Mutant and Alt. Palm Newsgroups. I am not sure
what, just a hunch. I don’t think I have been dead long enough for a major
conspiracy theory to be underway.” I shook my head. “It just feels wrong.” No
kidding, I thought, people should not speak ill of the dead.
“I’ll have it
watched. I’ll also kick the science and food people for you. Though I can’t put
guarantee on the taste.” She smiled. “If they manage to make it edible there’s
probably a market for it.”
“More profit to
us.” I waved. “I gotta see if I can get out; if I get clear I will try to not
blow the Firewall down in two days. Expect me or let the programmers try to
keep me out.” I offered a wicked grin, “Make money.”
“Ok Merry, be
safe and good luck. I have to inform Willard now.” She smiled and waved.
I broke the
connection, sheesh what a mess. “It looks so easy when you are on the other
side of the screen,” I quipped.
I
closed the chat room and tapped the node map on the armguard. Then I thought
about it some more, I did not need to go back to exit the net. With that
thought I was back in the laptop and in an area filled with a heavy blue glow
with a lot of white light. I studied the light. Ok so it was not so much white
as it was a very bright light blue. It seemed that my spectrum in cyber-space
was limited from very bright blue to very dark blue that approached black. I
sat up and pushed the power button on the laptop turning it off.
I
was back in the real world, if you could call this real. I made a mental note
that black lights were ever so out, if I ever got a room of my own to decorate.
The magic portion of the book had mentioned something about centering,
grounding and shielding before I jumped ahead a few chapters. I closed my eyes,
but the white was still overpowering.
I took a breath
and pushed against all that white. “Envision yourself in a bubble that
separates you from what ever is bothering you.” said the book. I gave it a shot
as bubbles were not my thing; though it did make the light slightly
dimmer.
I
pushed with something and the bubble darkened like a set of polarized
sunglasses. The light coming off of the power lines was reduced to small thin
lines, bright but bearable. As I opened my eyes the light wavered from bright
to unbearable and back again. After a bit of trial and error I found I could
move and keep the bubble up. It took a lot of effort and did nothing to keep me
from glowing; yet I could walk very very slowly and keep it up.
“This
is going to take a lot of practice,” I complained to the cavern. I must have
walked for what seemed like an hour before reaching a metal door that was set
in cement. By that time my head was starting to seriously hurt. I reached for
the door and a flash of electricity arced between my hand and the knob.
Ker-Zapppa!
I swore with lots of enthusiasm shaking my hand like it was on fire. It stung
like I had purposely scuffed a carpet with my shoes then touched a person; you
know that fun game you did to your friends and siblings? Man oh man did it
ever hurt. I pulled out my spike from the coat pocket and touched the door with
it. Another bright flash and the door suddenly developed a white-hot glowing
spot on it where I had touched it with the spike. “Figures.”
I
put the spike away then put my gloves on and turned the knob. Cooler air rushed
in and I could hear something rumbling. I was in a lined concrete tunnel with
intermittent lighting. The door was glowing red on the opposite about where I
touched it with the spike. I closed it careful and studied the red dot for a
moment, the metal had sagged and dripped down leaving a small hole open in the
door.
I
guess I am blessed in that I was not seeing after images of the sparks. “Great
I have a new employment opportunity: human arc-welder.” I looked back and forth
for a bit there was a pair of three rails in the right and left sides of the
tunnel. Subway definitely the subway, I scrunched up by the right side of the
door and waited. A few minutes later a subway car went by in a rush of wind.
Depending on
where I was on the line, you could bet I had another five to ten minutes of
relative solitude. My head was pounding and I could still see two semi-bright
white lines that trailed along the floor. They were the power rails for the two
subway lines. That answered the question of where they got the power in the
power lines from, just a bit of creative rewiring and you had a free source of
power. Eventually I found the subway platform and crawled up and out.
Much
to the amazement and chagrin of the SEPTA Transit Security guard. He helped me
to stand up and asked the obvious questions of;
“Are
you nuts?” Followed by “Are you ok?”
I
just pulled my shades on and then I answered him. “Yes to the first, no to the
second.” My head was pounding and my stomach felt like it was on fire. He
followed me like a puppy as I made it to a burger counter. He was jabbering
into his walkie-talkie, all the way.
I
stood up to the counter. Imagine if you will, a punk rocker looking girl,
wearing black wrap-around sunglasses, more than slightly disheveled looking and
dusty. I must have looked pretty rough because the lady behind the counter
looked like she had seen the lowest life form on the planet.
Before
I could place an order she said. “No money, no food.”
I
took out my wallet with very unsteady hands and selected a twenty. I placed it
on the counter. “Just give me as many burgers as it will pay for.”
“Christ
you’re an addict too?” That was the transit cop.
I
turned a semi-glassy stare upon him, shades are great for concealing
expression, I just looked at him.
“Look”
he said, “you don’t have any reason to throw your life away like this.” He
looked at the lady behind the counter. “Get the girl her food.” He looked at
me and shook his head, “If the drugs don’t kill you turning tricks for money
can. AIDS is very real, young lady.”
I
looked down at the floor of the station; I sure as hell could not tell him the
truth. He and the lady had painted me as a teenaged, crack-addict, homeless
whore. Inside I was outraged, outside I just let a blank look fill my face.
“Can I just get my food and go now?” All those sermons and lectures from dad
were good for something I suppose. I choked back a sniffle. Ok dad wasn’t
father of the year, but hell, he had been my dad. It must have helped my
performance.
“Sorry
kid, can’t let you go, I have take you to the office,” he looked genuinely
upset.
I
grabbed the burger bag and all the lights died. Damn good timing, I thought to
myself. So I took the chance to make a clean break and sprinted to the sunlit
stairway. I was getting good with running; though if you asked me, whoever
invented stairs needed his ass kicked. I left a trail of pandemonium as I
pushed past people who were blocking my way up. I took a moment, to read the sign
Twenty-second Street Subway. “Yay.” I muttered absently to a passing commuter
who was givining me a very dirty look. I was deep in the heart of downtown
Philly. I turned into the nearest ally and walked a block or so until I could
crouch down behind a dumpster.
Safely
hidden, I could eat. So I did, all four burgers disappeared in short order. I
felt slightly better, though I still had a hole to fill and a monster of a
headache was thundering in my head. “You are how people see you.” That was one
lesson the minister drove into every sermon. Over and over again. Man was I so
screwed. That person is not you, offered that annoying part of my head. Yeah,
right.
----------------------------------------------------------
Gedan-no-Kamae
Friday (dusk),October 13, 2006
“If I tell you
I'm strong, will you play along. If I tell you I'm strong, will you play along.
Or would you see I'm as insecure as everybody else. It’s like…” -Sing Along-
Blue Man Group
“…
God hates me.” I wandered aimlessly from alley to alley, farther in or farther
out of it. It depended on how you had to look at it; outside I seemed to be
doing fine. Inside I was feeling every moment and so very down. I passed other
homeless people, I nodded, they nodded. I kept going. I was still hungry and I had
to do something about that, and soon. After a long time of walking, I huddled
against a dumpster amongst a row of trashcans. I sat there and stared blankly
at the shadows for a time.
“Hey
kid.” That was a voice from across the alley. An old man who was missing the
lower part of his arm stepped out from his own set of shadows. “You ok?”
I
looked up at him, we were pretty much dressed alike, though he had me beat by a
few stains. “If I said yes, would you believe me?”
He crouched
down, out of reach and shook his head. “Bad day.” It was a statement, not a
question. “Hungry?”
I nodded and he
stood up. “Can’t have that. Come on.” He turned after a few steps and said,
“Well, you hungry or not?”
I got up with a
groan, “Ok, I am coming.” We went several blocks, with him occasionally
calling out greetings to others. He almost seemed happy to be homeless or he
just was doing better at it than me. “Where are we going?”
“St. Michael’s,
they have a soup kitchen going. Not the best food; though by the look of you,
any food is going to seem good.” He frowned. “You’re awful young to be out
here. Not that you’re alone in that by any stretch.” He shook his head, “Lots
of kids now-a-days.”
“Do
they ask a lot of questions?” Food sounded good but I did not need a repeat of
the subway.
“Sometimes,
sometimes they preach at ya. Not sure which is more annoying. Some days they
can get you a bed for the night.”
“Got
my own bed.” I said doggedly.
“Yeah
I suppose you do,” he chuckled. “Still they are ok people. Father Pete is older
than me and sometimes seems twice as cranky. Don’t believe it for a second
though, I never seen him hurt a fly. Unless the fly was fixing to hurt a kid,
then. “ He grinned. “Then you should have seen the other guy fly.” He laughed,
“Father Pete then asked him for his forgiveness, he said that he didn’t want to
have to beat it out of him.”
I
had to laugh. “He sounds like a good person.”
“Oh
he is one of the good ones alright.” He led the way up the stairs and into the
church. It was one of the oldest churches in the city, not as fancy as some,
but it looked like it was taken care of. A bit of the ways inside he turned and
went down a flight of steps where the homey smell of soup was wafting up.
The
basement was not much to look at; mostly bare tile and support beams, even
though it was clean and well lit. It was also crowded as there were many people
sitting at the long rows of tables. Even among the unwashed masses of which I
was a part and parcel, the soup called my name. My stomach answered with a
roar.
“Come
on let’s get a bowl.”
He
led the way to the counter of the kitchen where short thin man with a faded
black suit and clerical white collar was serving up soup. “Find another stray
Thomas?” He waggled his bushy white eyebrows at my guide. I had a hard time
picturing him throwing anyone anywhere.
“Yep,
she’s a shy one though.” He tapped me on a shoulder, “You do have a name?”
“I’m
Merry.” I was eyeing the soup bowls. They were large but I was betting I could
easily put three or four of them away. Don’t give yourself away. Damned voice.
“A
last name?” That was Father Pete.
I
just looked at him for a moment. “Not this week, I could make one up if you
want?”
He
put on a sorrowful expression, “You would lie to old Father Pete?”
I
sighed, “Sometimes a lie is all we own.”
He
shook his head, “Get some soup in ye, maybe you will want to talk after a bit.”
I
took a bowl, picked up a spoon and then I found a chair away from everyone
else. I set the bowl and spoon on the table. I dropped my pack and let the
satchel, with the laptop in it, slip into my lap as I sat down. I bowed my
head, and reached a gloved finger to the laptop. As quickly as I could, I
tapped the power button then triggered the location burst and turned if off
again.
I
looked up just to see someone grab my pack and start to run away with it.
“Hey!” I shouted and tried to stand up. Tried mind you. My satchel got
hung up on the edge of the table and I fell over my own feet as I turned to try
and follow. On the floor and unable to give chase, I groaned in frustration as
the thief made his way up the stairs. To make matters worse, my bowl of soup
was spilled out on the floor as well. Ok, my day had jumped from bad, to ok if
not semi-hopeful, then back to down right shitty. Somewhere in my head the
‘I’ve had all I can take’ circuit breaker tripped and I broke down and cried.
Sobbing
and unseeing I let some one guide me to a different chair. I was clutching my
satchel to my chest as if it were all I owned, well that much was true. So much
for my bedroll, toilet paper, other personal supplies and the books from Bill,
though if I had to choose what was the more painful loss; it was the books. I
cried and people made soothing noises, sometimes ‘all’ we own in life is a lie.
Lie hard and well enough and it can become the truth. Just like in the
movie “The Postman.”
Eventually
I calmed down and they gave me another bowl of soup, a refill later and a glass
of water and I was feeling slightly better. It still wasn’t enough food but it
helped. For a long time I sat there wondering why the lights had not gone out.
Shock, you idiot or, I checked, yeah the bubble was sort of intact. Thinned out
and bare in places but still there, score one for the good guys. I smoothed it
out best as I could, I was so tired and my head still hurt in an ugly ‘there
goes the world’ bad way.
Someone
was calling my name. “Huh?” I looked around, no not me some other Chad. You are
‘Merry’ lock it in your head. Be Merry and get used to the fact that Chad is
dead. Dr. Palm had effectively killed him; that in its self, really pissed me
off. Bad enough he killed my family he had killed everything I was. Just not
who I could be, that was his mistake and I was going to make him eat it.
Somehow, sometime, someday. Count on it. “Revenge is mine, thus sayeth the
Lord.” The Lord, I pointed out to the voice in my head, could get in line.
Father
Pete would not let me leave, he said I was staying the night at the very least.
I don’t think I ever want him mad at me. I have never seen a ‘Man of God’ in a
biblical rage, one that seriously meant it. I have seen a zealot’s rage in my
old church. Somehow the story of Father Pete throwing the man seemed more
plausible. He muttered from time to time. “Stealing in the house of God, the
poor man is going to go down for that one.”
He
tried to get me to talk, to open up as he put it, but I just shook my head.
After a time he went about closing down the kitchen and putting things to
rights. I helped, I picked up the chairs, put them on tables, swept then
mopped. It was something to do and I did not feel up to running any more
today. My battery was on low, tank was empty, however you call it, and I wasn’t
going to be doing any gymnastics tonight. Gymnastics were Joni’s game, so much
for her taking the Intercity Games this year.
Finally,
we went upstairs and locked the front doors. We walked by a pair of closet
looking doors. “If you can’t talk to me outside of the Confessional, can you do
it inside of it?” he asked softly.
I
shrugged, “I am not Catholic Father.”
He
chuckled, “Truth be told lass, a lot of Catholics are not either. Come on, give
an old man something to do.”
I had
to smile, “Ok you win.”
We
went into our respective boxes and closed the doors. “First I say, ‘How are you
my child?’ Then you say, ‘Forgive me Father for I have sinned’, then we talk.
Easy yes?”
“Okay,
I suppose.” I was doubtful.
“How
are you my child? That’s your cue.” He made it seem like a game.
I
took my lines from the movies and did as best as I could remember. “Forgive me
Father for I have sinned, my last confession was to my barber about two weeks
ago.”
“I
knew I was in the wrong profession,” he joked through the little screen.
From
there I went on to tell him everything, well most of it. I left out a few
parts, mostly I covered what I thought was safe. The PALM AIs and my being a
mutant boy, now a mutant hermaphrodite, fairly poured out of me. I took off my
shades and waved a bared and glowing hand at him through the screen when he
asked for some proof. I told him about my playing goddess in Cyberspace. He
didn’t sound to keen on that, but he let me ramble on.
“Well
Merry, is quite a fix you are in. I am not sure I like your friends, and you
are close to being a bit as blasphemous as Satan himself, but I can tell you a
few things.”
“Oh?”
I was waiting for the other shoe to drop.
“God
didn’t make you what you are with out his own reasons. I have quite a mind to
go punch out your ‘old’ minister and teach him the error of his ways. I expect
I will have to settle for praying for him. The Pope himself might approve of
it though.” He crossed himself.
I
giggled softly as my head was still pounding.
“Mind
you, you need to watch your own bit of pride or it’ll catch you in your
backside. I can’t say I like your Cyber-self’s attitude. You read any of the
old comics?”
I
nodded through the window.
“Well
then I’ll spare ye the lecture on power and responsibility. Heavens above
you’re taking on a big risk for a lot of people who may never know who you are.
I know I may sleep better knowing you are out there. But your methods lass; you
can’t fight evil with evil, but a sword in its self is not evil. Come out and
humor an old man. Oh and you can relax this bubble of yours, I am guessin’ its
part of why your head hurts. Besides this old church pops a fuse all the time.”
I
let it go and he was right the headache faded somewhat. He led the way to a
room behind the altar, with a pause to cross himself. He took a moment to show
me how to do it. “You should always pay proper respects.” With that we went
back into his bedroom, where he had his own separate altar. He crossed himself
and he glanced at me expectantly, so I followed suit. He had a sword and a cup
beside a bible on the altar as well.
“Kneel
lass.” I was puzzled but did so.
He
took a moment to put on his mark of office, a long purple and white length of
cloth, and he dabbed his fingers into the cup, “I christen thee to be Merry
Candice Powell. A good an’ Christian lass. If’en I don’t say so myself. Do you
promise to serve and protect others, only occasionally back sliding as to teach
Evil the proper error of its way?”
“I
do.” Hey it seemed the right thing to say.
He
picked up the sword, “By the Power and Authority of his Blessed Church I dub
thee Merry Candice Powell, creating thee a Knight of the Church” He touched
both shoulders of my shoulders with his blade. “Do try to stay in the light,
lass.” His eyes twinkled and he smiled.
I
blinked a few times and my world went sideways.
-----------------------------------------------------------
Jodan-no-kamae
Saturday, October 14th,
2006
Somewhere between the soul
and soft machine, is where I find myself again. Down the road that I must
travel, through the darkness of the night. Where I'm going, will you follow?
Kyrie Eleison. –Kyrie- Mr. Mr. (Author’s edit.)
I awoke in a
strange bed; this was a slightly annoying trend I had noticed lately, though it
was not always the sign of good things to come. I looked around, it was Father
Pete’s room. Part of my mind barked in an amused tone; not even Catholic for a
day and you are in a strange mans bed. Not that I was going to distrust him,
though the humor did not escape me.
My
boots, gloves and shades were on a chair off to the side. My long knife was
resting in my hands. Beside a pitcher and a cup sat a stack of sandwiches; a
letter was also there as well. My satchel was under my head like a pillow.
Good.
I
devoured a large portion of the sandwiches while I deciphered his letter.
Father Pete may not admit to age, but his handwriting was old-school
calligraphy.
Merry,
I
had to go out of town for a bit, as something has come up. Typical clerical
mumbo jumbo, I expect I will be bored. The things I do for my God. Sister
Claire will be running the soup kitchen; Saint’s preserve us all. I told her
you had a tapeworm. Sorry, as it was the only excuse I could think of, that and
your eyes are ultra sensitive. She thinks you are my niece, she is a sweet old
lady do not disabuse her of the notion. Your family is having a rough time with
your dad drinking and all that. When things got too bad you ran here.
Don’t let her give you any weird medicines, just nod
and say you are allergic, and more soup please. Her potato soup is Devine,
though. You are expected to show up frequently. So you will be able to
crash here, rather in one of the extra rooms on occasion. Feel free to run amok
in my library it’s not all, boring biblical stuff.
I set out a school uniform for you; it should be a
close fit. You should clean up well and look like any of the other rich
Catholic girls that I see running around outside of school hours. You needed
some extra range of movement so I took the liberty of penning a few notes to
various people who owe me favors in town.
I put an official get out of school note in a handbag
for you. The truant officers may not like it, but they know me at the police
station so you should not get bothered, overly much. If you should want to,
take a day off of saving the world and go see a show. At the worst, you may
have to spend a boring day in the Saint Ignatius school library stacking books.
Friar Mathews owes me for a chess wager. Be wary if ye find his chess board, as
he’ll try to sucker you into a game.
Some days it is good to be ‘the’ Old Irish Priest as
I have dirt on the younger ones. It should cover you once or twice, by then I
should be back. Take some time to learn the Rosary, the Saints, and say a few
Hail Mary’s for good measure. I left a Rosary and a few SEPTA tokens to add to your
bag.
Sorry about the ring, forgive this old man for his
presumptions, but it suited you. It bears the battle standard of St. Jehanne
le Pacelle (That’s French dear.) and has been in my family for ages. While
I have no children to pass it on to, it would do this old man proud to see you
wear it. I also gave you a Saint’s medallion of hers, so you have more costume
stuff.
Though it won’t hurt you to wear it all the time
either lass. Fight the good fight. An’ be telling those friends of yours I’ll
kick their backsides for them if they get you hurt.
Kyrie Eleison
(It’s
Latin lass, look it up.)
Father
Peter Darcy
Ps. I do expect to see ye in Mass as permits Dame
Merry. Do stay unscorched. I took the liberty of registering your Baptism and
Confirmation in the Church records. Post dated of course. You can get copies as
needed for school as I expect you will be going to school eventually. Consider
it another layer for your protection. I’m having the church records sent to
the Vatican for official storage so your new life Merry is going to be ‘very’
official if not fireproof. Hah.
PPs. You are as listed on medical absence for
treatment of the tapeworm. You have a very rare allergy to the standard
medicines so the treatment time is a few months. If you are up and about just
say it is a good day; its on file at the school nurses office. Take the day off
and enjoy it. A knight takes care of his weapons and your body is part of your
arsenal. Save the world when you are feeling better.
I
had a glass of orange juice from the pitcher, then a few more. I had a day
free. Wow. Now that is a gift. I located his bathroom. In side was a huge cast
iron tub. I had a theory if I could keep stuff out I can keep stuff in. I
desperately wanted a hot bath. I chased about for a few moments, and drug
everything into the bathroom. With a prayer I made my bubble fit my skin. I
turned the water on and stuck my hand under the flow; there was a slow draining
feeling so I made my bubble thicker. Finally the draining feeling tapered off
to what I thought I could bear. No long showers or baths anytime soon. Crud.
Still
the last real bath I recalled was the shower at John’s. Even then it was brief,
if not amusing as, it wasn’t every day you could shower and fall into the arms
of a cute guy. I let the tub fill and I brushed out my hair; I put a chair
under the doorknob, like in the spy films and then shed my clothes. I glanced
at the ring, two angels kneeling presenting a fleur-de-lis, simple gold work. I
rotated it so the embossed art was under my finger, must keep it low key.
I
took my large knife into the tub with me. Paranoid, well not if they are out to
get you, and well they were. Whoever ‘they’ were. Clean, oh graciously clean,
God thank you for Father Pete. I washed everything and got out; no sense in
killing myself by accident, people wanted to do that for me. On that somber
note I drained the tub and let my bubble go.
I
toweled off and stretched a few times then made sure my long knife was dry. I
checked all my weapons. No melting on the spike, braid and ring. Hmm, once I
get a super conductive sword and add some training and watch out. The folding
blade was clean and sharp. The Laptop and PDA would need a charge, but that
could wait for tomorrow.
Stockings and a
skirt are just another costume right? Get on with it girl. I put on the rest of
the outfit, white shirt, a black tie and over it a vest. Over the left breast,
with some gold thread work was the logo for St. Ignatius, I presumed. I combed,
then tied my hair back; I swear it was half a foot longer. I tried on the black
beret, and looked in the mirror. A very exotic, rich Catholic schoolgirl looked
back. I found a pair of shoes black with brass buckle that fit; ok I could live
with being an inch taller. Though I didn’t rank them well for running if I had
to.
Now where to put
my weapons? The folding blade could go in the top of a stocking and be hidden
by the skirt. I placed the long knife back in its sheath. I doubted the police
would let me carry on a belt. I tucked it in the belt of the skirt and gave it
the once over. Very roguish if not entirely legal, so I took it out of the
belt; for a moment I studied the scabbard. It had two holes for a cord to tie
it in place on the outside of a leg or belt. Upside down the snap would keep
the dagger from falling out. Cord, I needed a cord. Dressed and semi-armed I
raided Father Pete’s study cubby.
I found a roll
of twine that I could braid into a rope and tie it so the blade hung upside
down under the skirt. No it was not exactly handy but it was workable. I
returned to the bathroom mirror, I could put the ring and spike in the satchel.
I draped the satchel so I could reach the ring with my right hand. The satchel
was slightly scruffy looking but I could blame that on slumming around. The
cell phone and PDA fit in the black purse with the wallet.
The shades would
handle my neon baby blues, so cool is still ‘so cool’. Even if you are dressed
like a schoolgirl, you are one dummy; get with the program. I removed the beret
long enough to drape my Saints medallion around my neck. I let it hang out as I
was devout but deadly. So be it. “Commando Powell reporting for duty,” I told
myself when I put the shades on. I burst into a set of giggles and looked at my
other clothes and boots. I was going to have to get some more clothes, a
bedroll and a pack.
A trip to his
bookshelves turned up a small book on saints, elementary Latin, Catechism and
the story of Saint Joan of Arc. I went to his altar and crossed myself. Part
of me longed to pick up his sword, but it was ‘his’ sword. Right, I know what I
want for Christmas.
I exited his
room and passed through the rectory into the main chapel. I noted that Sister
Clair was praying so I did my best to not disturb her. I was not exactly
successful. A floor break screeched when I stepped on it and she looked up “Ms.
Powell I presume?” She asked.
I smiled
brightly and presented myself for inspection “You must be Sister Clair.”
“Such a proper
young girl you are. Have you tried Tea Tree oil and honey?” She asked.
“Yes sister, it
gave me a bad case of the hives. I was itching every where.” I frowned
and hung my head, “These medicines are making it difficult to do anything.”
“You are home
schooling at the moment then?”
“Yes Sister, but
I am falling behind. I had to borrow a few books from the Father. I am looking
at retaking Elementary Latin all over again.” Some truths are easy to tell,
”Please pray for my father, Sister. Things are not going well at home.” I
sniffed and let a tear drop, that was easy, things at home could not be much
worse than everyone being dead.
“Father Pete had
said your father was drinking again.” She waved to the cross, “I’ll light a
candle for you child.”
“Bless you
Sister.” Mentally I was wishing my old church was this friendly, this is your
church now. You are expected at Mass remember? Chided the voice in my head.
“Dinner starts
at six and runs on until we run out of soup or fixings. I expect you back by
Ten or you will get to clean the Rectory tomorrow.”
I gave her a
hug, “Yes Sister.” Then I stepped back and smiled shyly. “Sorry Sister.”
She
smiled, “That’s ok dear, these are trying times and a hug never hurt anyone.”
I
walked quietly out of the rectory and down the aisle to the open doors that
faced the street. I turned and waved to the Sister and went outside. I barely
remembered to cross myself at the Mother and I kissed my medallion for luck. I
set myself on guard and went out into the day.
-----------------------------------------------------------
I loosened up on
my bubble and let some power filter in; I checked the area for odd blobs of
blue or things that seemed out of place. Now that is odd, a homeless person
had all sorts of blue on him. I walked down to the bus stop and studied him
from behind my shades. A closer look as I passed by. It was Bill! I turned and
dug at my purse for a bill, in a loud voice I said, “Sure, here take this.” I
crouched, to hand it to him. “What’s up?” I hissed.
“Information,
two blocks then down the alley, gray van.” He whispered then said, “Thankee
young miss, God bless.” I shut my purse and went down the road. At an easy slow
walk. Grrr, heels. Ok I had to buy something dressy but that I could run in.
Two blocks later and down one alley way was the gray van. I stepped up and
tapped a window.
A door slid open
and the electronic breeze from inside nearly set my teeth on edge. I toughened
up my bubble and entered. Can you say spy van? “Cool toys.” Tammy turned and
gave me the slow once over, her eyes were slightly hungry looking, very
interesting. Once inside I slid the door shut.
“We have to pick up Bill a
few blocks away. Procedure.” She looked me over, “Armed?” I flashed her the two
blades under the skirt and she blushed. She was dressed in semi tactical
clothing, deep blue coveralls and a tool belt, the coveralls were open and a
gun was semi visible.
“Got
food?” I asked.
“More power bars
and a few Jolt Colas.” She handed me a sack, “Eat, drink.”
“And be Merry.”
I finished for her. “I know, this being Merry is taking some
adjustment.” The drive to pick up Bill was convoluted, but it gave me time to
scarf a few power bars and a Cola.
“What happened
at the soup kitchen?” she asked.
I frowned, I
must have been extremely out of it to miss Bill in there or he’s much better at
not drawing attention than I am. “I was too drained, tired and stupid on top of
that. My backpack was stolen then I broke down somewhat. Sorry.”
“Merry quit
apologizing. None of us were quite prepared for last night.” I was about to ask
about that when she held up a hand to stop me. “Wait for Bill.” She pointed at
the power bars. “Eat.”
Ten minutes
later we picked up Bill and were moving again. He looked tired. “Kid you are
doing damned good. When we get you some real training I will be so much
happier.”
I waved a power
bar at him. “These are getting old.”
“I heard that
from Tammy. The network security techs were a bit blown away too, teach them to
underestimate an attacker,” he chuckled. “I have two grand in the pool that
says you can pop their fire wall again.”
Tammy
interrupted, “We need you to back to the tunnel with a team tomorrow. Fully
tactical, and guarded.”
“We have teams
securing what we are calling ‘The Lab’. It’s not pretty and I don’t expect you
will enjoy it. However, we need you to bust the decryption and security on a
pair of computers we have isolated and locked down.” That was Bill.
“Ok, were you
able to cut the power down to a workable level?” I did not want a repeat of
last night. I eased back on my bubble, breezy but less stress for me.
“Yes and we will
have a special team on call that will do nothing but get you out if we need to
use that much power to run things.”
“Fine.” I waved
to my current attire, “I’ll need something more suitable to wear.”
“Nice outfit,
whose idea?” That was from Bill.
I explained what
Father Peter Darcy had done, it took some time, but Bill didn’t seem entirely
displeased.
“So your
identity is going to be established at the Vatican, nice. Father Pete is a
cagey old sun-of-a-gun and a bit of a romantic. So how do you feel about being
a Knight of the Church?” he asked.
“It’s real?” I
was trying to avoid cola up the nose syndrome.
“From what we
can tell, very much so. The Vatican is poaching on my turf again, Bill,”
Tammy complained. ”But we can share,” she looked at me. “As long as it doesn’t
wreck things for you?”
“I am all for
profit and a safer world,” I replied. “Does that compromise me?”
“Yes and no. We
do share intelligence on occasion. We’ll arrange a profitable deal, for both
sides.” Tammy was looking slightly lost in thought.
Bill
winked at me, “Tammy will twist their tails. But we’ll all come out with more
money. Once the Vatican commits to a team, that team is doubly blessed as it
were. We get to skip on a lot of the more tasteless side of things, though, we
will also get some of the uglier jobs.”
“Yes, one good
thing with the Vatican, you can sleep better with yourself at night. If you
don’t get nightmares.” Tammy interjected.
“Still want to
hang with the crazy computer kid?” I asked Bill.
“It won’t be a
dull ride I can imagine,” he looked around. “Things were getting too quiet.”
“You like this
sort of thing?” I asked. It felt like my eyebrows must have climbed over the
tops of the shades.
“When you have
been doing this for a while; you either like the adrenalin rush too much or you
have a personal grudge.” He waggled his eyebrows. “Personally if I am not
moving at full speed facing certain death or broken bones, I am not alive.”
“Which is why
you don’t get to drive. Ever,” said a voice from the front of the van.
“Almost there.”
The voice was
slightly familiar. “Do I know you?”
“I was your
pilot. I would kiss you for saving our collective butts, though I would prefer
to remain standing.” He waved a hand at the mirror and was back to driving.
“They had an attack helicopter and were going feed us a missile just before you
dropped them. Just call me ‘Motor’ and we’ll be cool.”
-----------------------------------------------------------
There turned out
to be a nondescript warehouse on the outside. On the inside, when we drove in,
it looked like a small army had camped out. I stared out the window, “Planning
a party? There were enough people with initials on the back of their jackets to
partially fill the alphabet. FBI, CIA, NSA, OSI, HLD, OUC12, oh yeah, US
MARSHAL and ATF too.
“We had to
invite the Feds. It’s messy and it is big.” Tammy didn’t look too happy at the
prospect. “If any one asks your name; it is ‘Circuit Breaker’, or ‘Breaker’ for
short. Don’t let them intimidate you and don’t take any cards. Bad enough the
Vatican is poaching on my turf.”
She pulled a black blazer
with the letters WIZKID in yellow on the backside of it ‘Breaker’ on the front
left side and handed it to me. “For official gatherings, like this, we like to
follow the Federal Dress Code. She rolled her eyes, “If anything it annoys
them. You did you see the jacket with OUC12 on it? That is Official Unattached
Civilian Twelve, now there is a man with style; we’re borrowing his joke.”
“Who does he
work for?” I asked.
“Himself, though
he used to work with Amelia Hartford a while back. They a bit of a falling out
though the poor sot is still in love with her.” She had a wistful look on her
face.
Bill grunted, “He’s
a tactical wizard and a fair hand with computers himself. First name is Alex.
We try to keep things simple, first names or code names only. I’ll catch up to
you after a bit as I need a shower.” With that, he slid open the door and
strode off.
I pulled on the
jacket and zipped it up. “Ok so what’s up?”
“We have to show
the Feds that waiting for you to be available for tomorrow is vital. Sorry to
put you on the stage so to speak but they are very clumsy. We want a
professional to break the security and encryption so we have to show that we
have one. You can leave your purse and satchel in the van it will be safe.”
I looked at the
light jacket; there was no way was it going to hold the spike. “We need to work
on getting me some compact weapons that have a bit of range or reach. I love
the spike, but it’s not the easiest to conceal.”
“We’ll work on
that, although it may take a few days.” She shrugged, “Legal ones or?”
“Both, I need
flexibility as I can’t exactly wear a sword and a schoolgirl’s outfit. The
knives are not exactly handy though I can get to them.” We got out of the Van.
“Is there a pool on this demo?”
She laughed, “Of
course, I plan to clean up.”
“Good, what is
it based on, time or results?” I asked.
“Results. Poor
bastards won’t know what hit them.” She had a predatory smile. “They supplied
the security and encrypted file. The file is called Box. It has a simple text
message in it, all you have to do is extract it and display it to win.”
“What sort of
stakes?” I asked.
“Well most of
them will not go above a million, though if you want to put a million down on a
win, some sucker will try and take you up on it.”
“Easy money.” I
quoted, “Get me settled, and put a million out there in my name to win. Just
let me know when the betting has stopped.”
She guided me to
a small room with a recliner and a Next Terminal sitting beside it. “This has
the same files and processors as your lap top. The network is this PC, a
server and the target computer. Both are shielded by Faraday Cages, so there
is no electrical interference. You have a two-twenty volt power outlet over
there“ She pointed to a wall not far from the pc. “So you have ample power, I
think. Also, the room is shielded so you won’t fry the Fed’s toys though we did
warn them it was possible.”
She pointed to a
light bulb. “When the red light goes on, kick their butts.” The she left and
yelled. “Ladies and gentlemen, place your bets.”
I dropped my
bubble then rubbed my forehead to ease the slight twinge that already was
growing. This bubble bit is a pain in the neck; I hope it gets easier someday.
I reached out to the power line it was warm though a bit rough. Must be
generators off the grid; I pondered that while allowing the power fill me up. I
looked at my hand. I had a slight blue glow, not over powering just warm. I
located the power switch for the PC; someone had put it on top of the tower for
easy access. “Nice.”
I was almost
bored when the red light went on. I slapped the power button on and then I sank
back into the recliner cushions. “Show Time.” I quoted. Blue light washed over
me as the PC came online. I gave it a quick scan, it was a virtual duplicate of
my laptop.
I dove into it
and changed my avatar; I added a sword. Hey I was a knight after all. “Enough
playing around” I told myself. I looked down the network and went to the front
door leading to the protected computer. I tapped it with my finger watching it
bend and flex. Jeeze, NEXT’s firewall was so much sturdier. I drew my sword,
hah. I am no samurai but one easy overhead chop cut right through the door.