The third punch knocked the heavy metal door off its hinges. After the clanging, silence. Some oddly coloured vapours drifted from the dimly lit room. Strange smelling too but since the Upgrade toxins didn't seem to affect her anymore.
She was here to try and understand how and why the Upgrade had happened. She was here to try and learn what was happening to Max, if he was having another breakdown or if everyone else was or both.
A man named Marshal had texted her this location. She thought she recognized the name but couldn't be sure. Couldn't be sure if her memories of being a secret operative throughout history were real or just TV shows she had watched once. Had she always been like this or was this something Max had done to her?
Stepping into the chamber.
Six suspension-tanks. Not unlike the ones she and Max had climbed out of in the Atlantis base one of the first times they had met. I think I was blonde then. She couldn't make out the figures floating inside them but each one had a digital screen.
Riveta - Status Unknown
Stone - Version Indigo
Scorpio - Version Elephant Tiger
Mayganne - Version Sting Ray
Donnelly - Signal Lost
Susanna - Signal Corrupted
That made her feel sad. She had vague, dream-like memories of a woman with that name who took care of her at a time she was lost and alone and hurting.
Beyond the tanks and the clusters of wires and tubing that fed into them were four doors. Each had a label.
PROJECT ELLIPSES
PROJECT HORIZON
PROJECT BEAST
SUBJECT A-443-C
Maggie suddenly felt afraid.
Showing posts with label riveta. Show all posts
Showing posts with label riveta. Show all posts
20151224
20150805
Riveta - Summer's Recollection
"I met Riveta once before, a long time ago when I was just a kid, but I guess she didn't recognize me or didn't want to remember," Summer said into the mic. "She was a cop then; I guess she is still a cop but one can't be too sure these days. Oh, it can drive one person out of your mind if not attuned to these things. Riveta is a very beautiful woman; she's smart, intelligent and she's got the right amount of sass."
She hit pause after a few awkward moments of silence as she was trying to compile the words in her head to speak. Setting the mic down on the blanket, she took a sip of the coffee and she closed her eyes as if recalling an event or image in her mind's eye.
Twin moons hung low in the sky with a third one phasing in and out, like a UHF tv station that her grandfather once had. She remembered her father standing outside toying with the antenna as her grandmother was shouting "a little to the left, a little more, there it is".
She smiled a sincere smile and then picked up the mic once again, thinking there should be one more, or was it two moons, she wasn't sure herself.
She hit pause after a few awkward moments of silence as she was trying to compile the words in her head to speak. Setting the mic down on the blanket, she took a sip of the coffee and she closed her eyes as if recalling an event or image in her mind's eye.
Twin moons hung low in the sky with a third one phasing in and out, like a UHF tv station that her grandfather once had. She remembered her father standing outside toying with the antenna as her grandmother was shouting "a little to the left, a little more, there it is".
She smiled a sincere smile and then picked up the mic once again, thinking there should be one more, or was it two moons, she wasn't sure herself.
20140323
Riveta's Round
She plopped her feet up on the desk, leaned back and took a puff from the cigarette. She had been trying to quit but like her father always said, "Only Quitter's Lose". She didn't mind the chaos about her, as officers walked back and forth, the phones constantly chiming in, and the clacking of an old typewriter in the corner.
That was George typing up a report. He was old school. She was going to ask him why he preferred that antique over the laptops but she guessed he was one of those 'can't teach an old dog new tricks' kind of guy.
"Yo, Riveta," said Lugerelli, "Put that shit out now."
"Make me," Riveta replied.
She hated that creep with a passion; she didn't know what it was about him but she hadn't liked him from day one. He had that look about him that made her want to bash in that face of his.
"You're given me second hand smoke," he scolded. "And besides, it's office policy not to smoke inside."
"You gonna arrest me?" she asked him.
"Christ, Riveta," Monnette said as he walked past her desk. "You know that's a $200 fine if the shop steward sees ya."
"I know, I know," Riveta replied to him. She butted it out; all she wanted was a taste. Besides, it helped her relax some.
Lugerelli threw some nico gum on her desk, "Chew on these."
"You wanna chew on my fist for a while?" she asked at him. Lugerelli was about to say something but he saw George in his corner shaking his head at him. Lugerelli then went back to his desk and answered a phone.
"What's your beef with him?" Monnette asked her. He plopped his rear on the corner of her desk.
"I don't know," Riveta confessed. "It's just that whenever I see him I have this urge to spit."
Monnette chuckled at that.
That was George typing up a report. He was old school. She was going to ask him why he preferred that antique over the laptops but she guessed he was one of those 'can't teach an old dog new tricks' kind of guy.
"Yo, Riveta," said Lugerelli, "Put that shit out now."
"Make me," Riveta replied.
She hated that creep with a passion; she didn't know what it was about him but she hadn't liked him from day one. He had that look about him that made her want to bash in that face of his.
"You're given me second hand smoke," he scolded. "And besides, it's office policy not to smoke inside."
"You gonna arrest me?" she asked him.
"Christ, Riveta," Monnette said as he walked past her desk. "You know that's a $200 fine if the shop steward sees ya."
"I know, I know," Riveta replied to him. She butted it out; all she wanted was a taste. Besides, it helped her relax some.
Lugerelli threw some nico gum on her desk, "Chew on these."
"You wanna chew on my fist for a while?" she asked at him. Lugerelli was about to say something but he saw George in his corner shaking his head at him. Lugerelli then went back to his desk and answered a phone.
"What's your beef with him?" Monnette asked her. He plopped his rear on the corner of her desk.
"I don't know," Riveta confessed. "It's just that whenever I see him I have this urge to spit."
Monnette chuckled at that.
20140305
Channel Plex: Tapestries
Sandrine Riveta: "It was just... It was a really special
time. We would do a show every second Saturday, and we'd pick the
setting and characters for the next show while we were striking the
latest one. So we were just constantly in this creative fugue, each show
like the cresting of a wave, then building momentum to the next. For
the two weeks between the shows we would work out our characters, their
histories, the performance of them. Then they'd all meet on stage on the
night of the show. So it was improv but with some design to it. Not so
much a goal, but a pathway, maybe?"
Josiah Stone: "We'd use this one idea that Max got from a comic he loved, 'The Invisibles'. Each one of the five characters would be sortof informed or built around one of the elements. And their role in the play would represent that. Nothing obviously symbolic, but a way to control the interplay a bit when we were on stage..."
Milton Reddings: "To me it felt like we were involved in this weird ongoing Live Action Roleplaying game."
Sandrine Riveta: "But the best was the show. Spending the afternoon setting up the basement of the church, the table for ticket sales, putting on a pot of coffee. Running through the lighting cues. Stretching."
Josiah Stone: "Then we'd head backstage and wait for the sound of the people starting to arrive. The murmur, the scraping of chairs..."
Sandrine Riveta: "I love that sound."
Josiah Stone: "We'd use this one idea that Max got from a comic he loved, 'The Invisibles'. Each one of the five characters would be sortof informed or built around one of the elements. And their role in the play would represent that. Nothing obviously symbolic, but a way to control the interplay a bit when we were on stage..."
Milton Reddings: "To me it felt like we were involved in this weird ongoing Live Action Roleplaying game."
Sandrine Riveta: "But the best was the show. Spending the afternoon setting up the basement of the church, the table for ticket sales, putting on a pot of coffee. Running through the lighting cues. Stretching."
Josiah Stone: "Then we'd head backstage and wait for the sound of the people starting to arrive. The murmur, the scraping of chairs..."
Sandrine Riveta: "I love that sound."
20140121
A Word From Our Sponsor
It's a trap.
Simon looked around. The voice in his head went off, sounding like a freight train. He had a sense of vertigo, a strange feeling of deja vu. His vision was askew.
"They're moving," Donnelly said. "I think they are onto us."
"Element of surprise is over," Scorpio said.
Don't do it.
Simon's head was on fire, like a phosphorus flare burning white. Like the sound of dice rolling across the table, echoing in his mind.
Scorpio brought out his gun and stood at the door to the adjoining car.
Make a saving roll.
Simon looked around. The voice in his head went off, sounding like a freight train. He had a sense of vertigo, a strange feeling of deja vu. His vision was askew.
"They're moving," Donnelly said. "I think they are onto us."
"Element of surprise is over," Scorpio said.
Don't do it.
Simon's head was on fire, like a phosphorus flare burning white. Like the sound of dice rolling across the table, echoing in his mind.
Scorpio brought out his gun and stood at the door to the adjoining car.
Make a saving roll.
Underground Dramatis Personae
STONE - detective turned conspiracy theorist
RIVETA - detective turned metaphysical investigator
DONNELLY - ex-principal or maybe a priest
SCORPIO - geek turned double-agent
SIMON - mystery man
AKIMOTO - temporally-displaced norse samurai
TATTERDEMALION - strange girl from another planet
AQUA - teenage tiger-fist
FRANK - reformed LEGACY hitman
GONER - ex-mercenary
ANGST - cheerleader avec uzis
20140120
Open File
The clatter of the tracks suddenly got louder as the car entered a tunnel. Riveta grabbed a railing and stood up.
"Where's Mayganne?" she asked, her voice panicked.
Stone glanced around, blinking. "Ok... calm down..." he said softly, maybe to his former-partner, maybe to himself.
Riveta had the truth of it, though: Mayganne wasn't with them. Scorpio's cell-phone was ringing.
Donnelly turned to them, looking disoriented. "There's some people... in the next car... strange..."
Riveta turned, checking for her pistol under her jacket, relieved at the feel of the steel. Looked past the Father, through the window in the door at the end of the car.
A girl in a tattered sweater talking to a huge man, his blond hair tied in a top-knot. A cheerleader and another teenage girl in a cowboy hat. Two other men.
Simon put a hand out to steady Riveta. "It's okay," he said. He looked exhausted. "We'll be okay."
Scorpio snapped his cell-phone shut, ending his quick call with Greg Logollos. From LEGACY.
"That was the Professor," Scorpio said. "We're supposed to kill the people in the next car."
"Where's Mayganne?" she asked, her voice panicked.
Stone glanced around, blinking. "Ok... calm down..." he said softly, maybe to his former-partner, maybe to himself.
Riveta had the truth of it, though: Mayganne wasn't with them. Scorpio's cell-phone was ringing.
Donnelly turned to them, looking disoriented. "There's some people... in the next car... strange..."
Riveta turned, checking for her pistol under her jacket, relieved at the feel of the steel. Looked past the Father, through the window in the door at the end of the car.
A girl in a tattered sweater talking to a huge man, his blond hair tied in a top-knot. A cheerleader and another teenage girl in a cowboy hat. Two other men.
Simon put a hand out to steady Riveta. "It's okay," he said. He looked exhausted. "We'll be okay."
Scorpio snapped his cell-phone shut, ending his quick call with Greg Logollos. From LEGACY.
"That was the Professor," Scorpio said. "We're supposed to kill the people in the next car."
20140102
To Be Continued
The
Professor addressed the latest team. The newest Dragons. It wasn't
the first time the roster had been replaced, or recombined. He
had worked with so many of them throughout the strange non-years of
the Metaplex, the liquid time of plureality. All of the lost and the
found, the warriors, the outcasts, knights and assassins, witches and
spies. The different teams gathered and sent on their missions, and
always The Professor there to guide them, to never really be a part
of them. Except the times that he had been, or the times he was never
there at all - though most of those he couldn't remember...
Dexter, Wraith, Darius, Callan. Frank, Goner, Angst, Suki, Aqua. Akimoto, Tatterdemallion. Cromwell, Bern, Caden. Siltailus, Falador, Rickson, Cloak, Nurendemyr. The Kat, Misfit, Silver. Odin, Merlin, Kele-De. Mick. Marshal, Michelle, Nick and Jonas. Nick, Pat and Charlotte. Soma and Heresy. All the Travelers, the Blueberry Hill Gang, the Shelter Team. Bishop, Twofeathers, Trump. Pretty George. Maggie Magenta.
And now, Stone and Riveta, Donnelly and Mayganne, Scorpio. He had explained to them as much as he could, what he was allowed to, what he was able to. And what the plan was. Desperate and uncertain, but the only way the Professor could think to turn this situation around. It wasn't safe to contact Simon Light in any local versions - the Professor had had to quarantine him. But maybe if they went far enough around... Find him, some version of him, somewhere else...
There was no telling if any of them would make it, or who they would be. If they would remember or understand anything. If they would find him and reach him. If that would be enough of a convergence to change things. If this would save things or end them.
The Professor had briefed them. He had taught them all the mantras and visualizations that he knew for transferals. Had exposed them to specifically modulated energy fields. Had read them modernist poetry, shown them certain movies. Tried anything he could think of to help them.
And now he was going to send them into another world and hope that they would somehow return...
Dexter, Wraith, Darius, Callan. Frank, Goner, Angst, Suki, Aqua. Akimoto, Tatterdemallion. Cromwell, Bern, Caden. Siltailus, Falador, Rickson, Cloak, Nurendemyr. The Kat, Misfit, Silver. Odin, Merlin, Kele-De. Mick. Marshal, Michelle, Nick and Jonas. Nick, Pat and Charlotte. Soma and Heresy. All the Travelers, the Blueberry Hill Gang, the Shelter Team. Bishop, Twofeathers, Trump. Pretty George. Maggie Magenta.
And now, Stone and Riveta, Donnelly and Mayganne, Scorpio. He had explained to them as much as he could, what he was allowed to, what he was able to. And what the plan was. Desperate and uncertain, but the only way the Professor could think to turn this situation around. It wasn't safe to contact Simon Light in any local versions - the Professor had had to quarantine him. But maybe if they went far enough around... Find him, some version of him, somewhere else...
There was no telling if any of them would make it, or who they would be. If they would remember or understand anything. If they would find him and reach him. If that would be enough of a convergence to change things. If this would save things or end them.
The Professor had briefed them. He had taught them all the mantras and visualizations that he knew for transferals. Had exposed them to specifically modulated energy fields. Had read them modernist poetry, shown them certain movies. Tried anything he could think of to help them.
And now he was going to send them into another world and hope that they would somehow return...
20131231
23rd Century Party People
Today's
meeting was in a conference room in a downtown hotel. The Professor
had a laptop set-up at the head of the table. Beside it there was
another one of his strange devices - wires and winking lights and
whirring parts. No one had asked the rumpled old man what these
objects were for; there had been too many bizarre answers to other
simple questions already.
"Why isn't Susannah here?" Donnelly asked.
"It turns out that she's not a part of this. Not exactly." Things had continued to cohere, to synchronize, since everyone had been gathered. Or reunited. Some memories had become clear, while others were still cloudy, and others still pitch black. At each meeting the Professor had new files that he had compiled from whatever mysterious sources he had. A picture had started to emerge, but it was one of wavering lines and shifting colours and impossible angles, like a Cubist painting.
"Where is she then?" Riveta asked.
"I don't have the ability to remove her from this thread; it's not part of what I do. But I have made arrangements for her to be kept safe."
Scorpio studied the newest folder intently. LEGACY was mentioned a few more times in some documents, but there was still no record of him being in contact with Greg Logollos. Each night Scorpio thought about trying to contact Greg. He hadn't yet.
Stone resisted the urge to question the Professor, to ask what guarantees he could provide that Susannah was safe. He knew that there were none. From all the sci-fi technology, mutant attack dogs, and psychedelic metaphyiscs it was obvious to Stone that there weren't any certainties anymore. His training as a detective told him to keep asking, to keep digging, keep trying to solve the mystery of it all. His training as a soldier told him to keep quiet and follow orders.
Riveta seemed to be dealing with it all fairly well. Maybe because she had been in contact with the Professor the longest. It was almost as if she had somehow learned something from undergoing all this weirdness. Stone was so glad to have her back. He knew that they could get through anything together.
"So what's next then?" Mayganne asked.
Donnelly looked at the teenager he knew from his school. She had always been a quiet girl, shy, a little gloomy. Now she came to the meetings smiling and eager. School had never seemed a good fit for Mayganne, but this - whatever it was - had opened something up inside her. Donnelly knew that he still had to have a stern talk with her about breaking into that bank, but for now he was using her enthusiasm as a way to stay grounded amidst the chaos. He had wondered a lot lately about starting to pray again...
"Well," the Professor said, tapping some keys on the laptop and glancing at the device. "What's next is that we're going to try and change the world. Or one of them anyway."
"Why isn't Susannah here?" Donnelly asked.
"It turns out that she's not a part of this. Not exactly." Things had continued to cohere, to synchronize, since everyone had been gathered. Or reunited. Some memories had become clear, while others were still cloudy, and others still pitch black. At each meeting the Professor had new files that he had compiled from whatever mysterious sources he had. A picture had started to emerge, but it was one of wavering lines and shifting colours and impossible angles, like a Cubist painting.
"Where is she then?" Riveta asked.
"I don't have the ability to remove her from this thread; it's not part of what I do. But I have made arrangements for her to be kept safe."
Scorpio studied the newest folder intently. LEGACY was mentioned a few more times in some documents, but there was still no record of him being in contact with Greg Logollos. Each night Scorpio thought about trying to contact Greg. He hadn't yet.
Stone resisted the urge to question the Professor, to ask what guarantees he could provide that Susannah was safe. He knew that there were none. From all the sci-fi technology, mutant attack dogs, and psychedelic metaphyiscs it was obvious to Stone that there weren't any certainties anymore. His training as a detective told him to keep asking, to keep digging, keep trying to solve the mystery of it all. His training as a soldier told him to keep quiet and follow orders.
Riveta seemed to be dealing with it all fairly well. Maybe because she had been in contact with the Professor the longest. It was almost as if she had somehow learned something from undergoing all this weirdness. Stone was so glad to have her back. He knew that they could get through anything together.
"So what's next then?" Mayganne asked.
Donnelly looked at the teenager he knew from his school. She had always been a quiet girl, shy, a little gloomy. Now she came to the meetings smiling and eager. School had never seemed a good fit for Mayganne, but this - whatever it was - had opened something up inside her. Donnelly knew that he still had to have a stern talk with her about breaking into that bank, but for now he was using her enthusiasm as a way to stay grounded amidst the chaos. He had wondered a lot lately about starting to pray again...
"Well," the Professor said, tapping some keys on the laptop and glancing at the device. "What's next is that we're going to try and change the world. Or one of them anyway."
20131229
Same Time Same Page
The
Professor circled the table, handing out the file folders.
"Hopefully some of the materials in these will start to generate trans-version connections," he said. "And you will all start to remember what happened."
Riveta began scanning the contents of her folder right away. Police reports from some recent investigations she didn't remember undertaking. Photos of a diner that looked familiar. A picture of a man who she didn't recognize, but who had the saddest looking eyes she had ever seen.
Stone sat beside her; he hadn't been more than a few feet from her since the night on the street, when he had found her again. When the impossible had started to happen. Except the impossible had started to happen some time ago, he was realizing now, as memories of certain crime scenes started to return.
"Who is this man?" Donnelly asked. He held up his own copy of the photo Riveta was looking at.
Mayganne studied her copy. "He looks familiar, sorta..."
The Professor had taken a seat at the head of the table. "His name is Simon Light. He is very important. Hopefully, you will be meeting him - again - very soon."
Scorpio tried to keep his breathing steady, trying one of the meditation techniques he was slowly starting to remember. Among the copies of police reports and photographs inside his folder, there were memos and press releases from the LEGACY Corporation. Many were signed by Greg Logollos. He glanced at the Professor... Did he know that Greg had been in contact with Scorpio? Recently? Or did they know each other already from before? It made Scorpio feel nervous, trapped. He wasn't sure who or what to trust.
Susanna stopped at a picture of an older woman holding a young girl on her lap. The older woman was holding a tattered pom-pom. The little girl was smiling.
The Professor spoke up. "Shortly I will be asking each of you to begin making notes on what the files mean to you, what you recognize, how they make you feel. My own picture of what happened is far from complete."
Stone looked at Riveta and smiled. He didn't care how weird all this was. She was alive.
"What we need to focus on right away," the Professor continued, "is the very grave threat facing each of you, and some other people who you may or may not know. Indeed, the very Metaplex itself is in danger."
"The meta-huh?" Mayganne asked.
"A threat from what?" Donnelly cut in.
The Professor adjusted his glasses.
"A man named Morganfokker."
"Hopefully some of the materials in these will start to generate trans-version connections," he said. "And you will all start to remember what happened."
Riveta began scanning the contents of her folder right away. Police reports from some recent investigations she didn't remember undertaking. Photos of a diner that looked familiar. A picture of a man who she didn't recognize, but who had the saddest looking eyes she had ever seen.
Stone sat beside her; he hadn't been more than a few feet from her since the night on the street, when he had found her again. When the impossible had started to happen. Except the impossible had started to happen some time ago, he was realizing now, as memories of certain crime scenes started to return.
"Who is this man?" Donnelly asked. He held up his own copy of the photo Riveta was looking at.
Mayganne studied her copy. "He looks familiar, sorta..."
The Professor had taken a seat at the head of the table. "His name is Simon Light. He is very important. Hopefully, you will be meeting him - again - very soon."
Scorpio tried to keep his breathing steady, trying one of the meditation techniques he was slowly starting to remember. Among the copies of police reports and photographs inside his folder, there were memos and press releases from the LEGACY Corporation. Many were signed by Greg Logollos. He glanced at the Professor... Did he know that Greg had been in contact with Scorpio? Recently? Or did they know each other already from before? It made Scorpio feel nervous, trapped. He wasn't sure who or what to trust.
Susanna stopped at a picture of an older woman holding a young girl on her lap. The older woman was holding a tattered pom-pom. The little girl was smiling.
The Professor spoke up. "Shortly I will be asking each of you to begin making notes on what the files mean to you, what you recognize, how they make you feel. My own picture of what happened is far from complete."
Stone looked at Riveta and smiled. He didn't care how weird all this was. She was alive.
"What we need to focus on right away," the Professor continued, "is the very grave threat facing each of you, and some other people who you may or may not know. Indeed, the very Metaplex itself is in danger."
"The meta-huh?" Mayganne asked.
"A threat from what?" Donnelly cut in.
The Professor adjusted his glasses.
"A man named Morganfokker."
20131228
The Great Convergence
Milton
stood in the line outside the theatre. He didn't usually go to see
plays, but after his meeting with Greg today he felt that things were
changing in his life. That he was going to get a chance to become the
man he always wanted to be. And he had always imagined himself
reading literature and seeing plays. So he had a plastic bag from
Good
Tomes with
copies of Shakespeare and Faulkner inside, and he was waiting to buy
his ticket to a local company's production of an original work called
Constellations.
It seemed fitting somehow. Scorpio was becoming real.
Across the street Susanna checked her watch again. Riveta scanned the traffic walking and driving past.
"He was always really prompt at school," Susanna said.
"Relax," Riveta said, but there was edge to her voice.
As Mayganne rounded the corner she chuckled as she realized that all those uptight and closed-minded groups intent on policing society's morality were right. Playing videogames had led her to a life of crime. Immersing herself in the sci-fantastic world of Citadel she had started believing herself to be a version of the young rogue-adventurer Maus. She knew it wasn't real exactly, she wasn't delusional... But she had started to feel that if she started to think and act and behave like Maus, then in some sort of strange, maybe magical way, she would become her. And that's when the shoplifting started. And when she started picking fights with the bullies at school. Some bloodied lips and pockets full of useless crap later, she felt it taking hold. And so tonight it had been a full-scale break-in. Complete with black clothes and some tools in a satchel.
Susanna wrapped her arms about herself. She was shivering. Maybe since the attack last night at the store. She hadn't been home since. Hadn't called her family or friends or even work to explain why she had run off and left the store a disaster. How could she?
"You'll explain everything when he gets here, right?" she asked the woman who had saved her and damned her at the same time.
Riveta glanced at her cell phone. "I'm hoping someone will..."
The line started to move. Milton took a deep breath of the mild spring air. He imagined himself as the man that he was sure he was going to become, working with Greg Logollos. Imagined being here at the theatre not to simply watch a play, but to meet with an important contact. Imagined being able to read the intentions of those in line by their postures and body language. Scanning the people passing by for movements that hinted at martial arts training or concealed weapons. That girl over there, in the black clothes, half-running, looking nervous, surely she was up to something dangerous, he imagined.
Mayganne had broken the window, the alarm sounding immediately, had smashed some furniture, the whole time being filmed by the security cameras. It was the type of brash and risky strike that Maus would make against an enemy stronghold. The bank was a kind of enemy, she figured. So she was like Maus, but at the same time she knew that she wasn't. She knew that Maus would escape in the Nexus Wave with her sister Kitty and the noble Serisia, with Vlad the celestial barbarian and the mysterious warrior Chem Finder - who she had a crush on. While Mayganne would no doubt be caught by the police. Which is really what she wanted.
She had stood there, shouting at the cameras, "Make me Maus or make me Mayganne!" Because if she couldn't really be Maus, if this world wouldn't allow it, then she was done with this world. They could lock her away.
"No way," Detective Musharef said as he drove through the intersection. "Tell me, is that not the suspect they just put the bulletin out on?" He pointed up the block.
Stone peered ahead. His eyesight was sometimes tricky in the evening, with the city lights kalidescoping around him. "Could be..."
"Susanna!" Mr. Donnelly called from the opposite side of the street. He glanced right and left and braved the traffic.
Riveta slid a hand to the pistol under her jacket; she wasn't sure what to expect from this meeting.
Susanna hugged her former principal tightly, so relieved to see a familiar face. "What's the matter?" he asked her. "You sounded nervous on the message..."
"I'm pulling over," Musharef said. "That's definitely her. Look how freaked out she is. What did they say she answered to?"
"Mayganne?" Donnelly exclaimed as he saw his student jogging past them. She slowed and looked surprised to see him.
Milton saw the suspicious girl stopping by the man and two women. He imagined that the one woman's hand was tucked inside her jacket to be ready to draw a gun.
Musharef slid out of the car, assessing the group that the suspect had stopped by. Stone eased himself out of the passenger seat.
Donnelly looked confused. "What's going on? Who are you?" he asked the serious-looking woman standing beside his former teacher.
Stone's eyes widened. He felt like his heart stopped. "Riveta?"
Then Riveta's cell phone rang. And Donnelly's cell phone rang. And Mayganne's rang. And Stone's. And Scorpio's cell phone rang.
Across the street Susanna checked her watch again. Riveta scanned the traffic walking and driving past.
"He was always really prompt at school," Susanna said.
"Relax," Riveta said, but there was edge to her voice.
As Mayganne rounded the corner she chuckled as she realized that all those uptight and closed-minded groups intent on policing society's morality were right. Playing videogames had led her to a life of crime. Immersing herself in the sci-fantastic world of Citadel she had started believing herself to be a version of the young rogue-adventurer Maus. She knew it wasn't real exactly, she wasn't delusional... But she had started to feel that if she started to think and act and behave like Maus, then in some sort of strange, maybe magical way, she would become her. And that's when the shoplifting started. And when she started picking fights with the bullies at school. Some bloodied lips and pockets full of useless crap later, she felt it taking hold. And so tonight it had been a full-scale break-in. Complete with black clothes and some tools in a satchel.
Susanna wrapped her arms about herself. She was shivering. Maybe since the attack last night at the store. She hadn't been home since. Hadn't called her family or friends or even work to explain why she had run off and left the store a disaster. How could she?
"You'll explain everything when he gets here, right?" she asked the woman who had saved her and damned her at the same time.
Riveta glanced at her cell phone. "I'm hoping someone will..."
The line started to move. Milton took a deep breath of the mild spring air. He imagined himself as the man that he was sure he was going to become, working with Greg Logollos. Imagined being here at the theatre not to simply watch a play, but to meet with an important contact. Imagined being able to read the intentions of those in line by their postures and body language. Scanning the people passing by for movements that hinted at martial arts training or concealed weapons. That girl over there, in the black clothes, half-running, looking nervous, surely she was up to something dangerous, he imagined.
Mayganne had broken the window, the alarm sounding immediately, had smashed some furniture, the whole time being filmed by the security cameras. It was the type of brash and risky strike that Maus would make against an enemy stronghold. The bank was a kind of enemy, she figured. So she was like Maus, but at the same time she knew that she wasn't. She knew that Maus would escape in the Nexus Wave with her sister Kitty and the noble Serisia, with Vlad the celestial barbarian and the mysterious warrior Chem Finder - who she had a crush on. While Mayganne would no doubt be caught by the police. Which is really what she wanted.
She had stood there, shouting at the cameras, "Make me Maus or make me Mayganne!" Because if she couldn't really be Maus, if this world wouldn't allow it, then she was done with this world. They could lock her away.
"No way," Detective Musharef said as he drove through the intersection. "Tell me, is that not the suspect they just put the bulletin out on?" He pointed up the block.
Stone peered ahead. His eyesight was sometimes tricky in the evening, with the city lights kalidescoping around him. "Could be..."
"Susanna!" Mr. Donnelly called from the opposite side of the street. He glanced right and left and braved the traffic.
Riveta slid a hand to the pistol under her jacket; she wasn't sure what to expect from this meeting.
Susanna hugged her former principal tightly, so relieved to see a familiar face. "What's the matter?" he asked her. "You sounded nervous on the message..."
"I'm pulling over," Musharef said. "That's definitely her. Look how freaked out she is. What did they say she answered to?"
"Mayganne?" Donnelly exclaimed as he saw his student jogging past them. She slowed and looked surprised to see him.
Milton saw the suspicious girl stopping by the man and two women. He imagined that the one woman's hand was tucked inside her jacket to be ready to draw a gun.
Musharef slid out of the car, assessing the group that the suspect had stopped by. Stone eased himself out of the passenger seat.
Donnelly looked confused. "What's going on? Who are you?" he asked the serious-looking woman standing beside his former teacher.
Stone's eyes widened. He felt like his heart stopped. "Riveta?"
Then Riveta's cell phone rang. And Donnelly's cell phone rang. And Mayganne's rang. And Stone's. And Scorpio's cell phone rang.
20131223
Convergence One
Susanna's
feet were tired; somehow retail was more exhausting than teaching.
Maybe the smile of a satisfied customer didn't match the smile of a
child who had just figured out a solution to a problem. She needed to
figure out her own solution to her own problem.
Leaving teaching to pursue music had seemed like the great leap. She hadn't had any illusions about making it big, she knew it would be a struggle, she loved the romance of that. It had paid off - two years of barely-made rent, small gigs at local bars, a few in nearby towns, decent after-show sales of her homemade CD, a tiny bit of buzz in tiny corners of the net. Except that she hadn't written anything new. Not a single song or melody.
Susanna hung the sweater up on the rack and suddenly felt a massive rush of deja vu. Her heart skipped, her breath caught, she turned just like she had, like she knew she would, not knowing why and the woman was running towards her. And Susanna let her body go limp because she knew it was coming and the woman tackled her. They crashed down into the clothing rack, the spring line-up fluttering around them, the strange wolf-like creature snarling in the air, its teeth snapping where they had been standing. The woman rolling them both, colours entangling them, the beast landing and turning and growling. And the woman's hand reaching out and snapping suddenly. Thunder.
Susanna pulled herself free. The store muzak crept into the sudden silence. Everything was moving slowly except her heart.
The woman steadied her. "I'm Dete- I'm Sandrine. Sandrine Riveta." She replaced the pistol in the holster under her jacket, took out a photo. "Please, do you know this man?"
It was the principal of Susanna's old school. Mr. Donnelly.
Leaving teaching to pursue music had seemed like the great leap. She hadn't had any illusions about making it big, she knew it would be a struggle, she loved the romance of that. It had paid off - two years of barely-made rent, small gigs at local bars, a few in nearby towns, decent after-show sales of her homemade CD, a tiny bit of buzz in tiny corners of the net. Except that she hadn't written anything new. Not a single song or melody.
Susanna hung the sweater up on the rack and suddenly felt a massive rush of deja vu. Her heart skipped, her breath caught, she turned just like she had, like she knew she would, not knowing why and the woman was running towards her. And Susanna let her body go limp because she knew it was coming and the woman tackled her. They crashed down into the clothing rack, the spring line-up fluttering around them, the strange wolf-like creature snarling in the air, its teeth snapping where they had been standing. The woman rolling them both, colours entangling them, the beast landing and turning and growling. And the woman's hand reaching out and snapping suddenly. Thunder.
Susanna pulled herself free. The store muzak crept into the sudden silence. Everything was moving slowly except her heart.
The woman steadied her. "I'm Dete- I'm Sandrine. Sandrine Riveta." She replaced the pistol in the holster under her jacket, took out a photo. "Please, do you know this man?"
It was the principal of Susanna's old school. Mr. Donnelly.
20131222
The Holographic Universe
Version
Crimson Falling
Stone keyed in the numbers to access his voice-mail as he shrugged off his suit jacket. One message.
"...get it now, see how the one reflects into the many and back again. The same pattern occurring at all levels. The war in Iraq and the behaviour of the government is the exact same equation as the way my family reacted to my Dad getting cancer is the exact same equation as when we all flipped out when the Lieutenant got fired is the exact same equation as the way they're arguing online. And I can't see a way out, we need to find a way out."
Stone's eyes were wide. He gasped for breath, felt dizzy.
Riveta.
Stone keyed in the numbers to access his voice-mail as he shrugged off his suit jacket. One message.
"...get it now, see how the one reflects into the many and back again. The same pattern occurring at all levels. The war in Iraq and the behaviour of the government is the exact same equation as the way my family reacted to my Dad getting cancer is the exact same equation as when we all flipped out when the Lieutenant got fired is the exact same equation as the way they're arguing online. And I can't see a way out, we need to find a way out."
Stone's eyes were wide. He gasped for breath, felt dizzy.
Riveta.
20131220
Vesper Bell
Version
Crimson B2
Riveta glanced over at the Brownstone and didn't see any signs of movement. She had been here for couple of hours, waiting for a sign or signal of some sort.
"This is nuts," she said softly. Her car radio was on, playing a faded hit from long ago and she found herself humming along to the song.
Her gun, cellphone, a pack of gum, and a dime-store novel were on the passenger seat. As well as three styrofoam cups of empty coffee.
She knew that she had drank one coffee too many since she had the urge to go to the bathroom, but she didn't want to leave her post. Not yet.
"Well Professor, whatever it is that's supposed to be here isn't," she muttered again. She chuckled at the notion of talking to herself.
An eerily glowing light emanated from the top floor of the brownstone window.
Showtime, said Riveta. She grabbed the stick of gum and the three empty coffee cups and exited the car.
Riveta glanced over at the Brownstone and didn't see any signs of movement. She had been here for couple of hours, waiting for a sign or signal of some sort.
"This is nuts," she said softly. Her car radio was on, playing a faded hit from long ago and she found herself humming along to the song.
Her gun, cellphone, a pack of gum, and a dime-store novel were on the passenger seat. As well as three styrofoam cups of empty coffee.
She knew that she had drank one coffee too many since she had the urge to go to the bathroom, but she didn't want to leave her post. Not yet.
"Well Professor, whatever it is that's supposed to be here isn't," she muttered again. She chuckled at the notion of talking to herself.
An eerily glowing light emanated from the top floor of the brownstone window.
Showtime, said Riveta. She grabbed the stick of gum and the three empty coffee cups and exited the car.
20131218
Percussion
Version
Crimson.7
It was a step or four down from the hotel suite but Riveta felt more relaxed here in the seedy motel.
She missed Stone.
She lay back on the bed. The couple upstairs were stomping around again. She tried to steady her breathing. Tried to change the way she heard the noise, the way the Professor had described. To become open to it, to change her borders, so that the thumping wasn't an intrusion but part of the landscape.
She wondered where Stone had ended up. If it was like this for him.
She was scared, she could admit that, the small sharp spike at the end of every inhalation. She knew she was in something deep. She exhaled.
The thumping continued.
It was a step or four down from the hotel suite but Riveta felt more relaxed here in the seedy motel.
She missed Stone.
She lay back on the bed. The couple upstairs were stomping around again. She tried to steady her breathing. Tried to change the way she heard the noise, the way the Professor had described. To become open to it, to change her borders, so that the thumping wasn't an intrusion but part of the landscape.
She wondered where Stone had ended up. If it was like this for him.
She was scared, she could admit that, the small sharp spike at the end of every inhalation. She knew she was in something deep. She exhaled.
The thumping continued.
20131217
Conflict Resolution II
Version
Crimson.4
Riveta stared intently at the screen. The net-cafe was busy this morning, emails getting checked, flash games played, clips watched. She had been here since the place opened, as directed. Made sure she sat at the right terminal. Logged onto the message-board using the account she had been provided.
Reading for hours, exchanges between posters about anti-oppression theory, magickal practices, comic books, technological developments. There was a long thread about a decision to ban one of the posters, pages upon pages of text debating communication styles, scientific methodology, language and identity. It was an argument, a discussion, a lament, a challenge.
She watched the words on the screen stream and interlock, conjuring patterns of meaning, mysteries of intent, little pixelated sticks and curves summoning epic passions and petty indulgences. Figures and grounds. The beauty of connection and the terror of disconnection. The thoughts of dozens of people spread across the planet, caged, transmuted, sent into combat with each other. Agonizing contortions of principles and visions, to make a determination of the future presence or absence of one current of text on the message board. To silence or to manage, to embrace or to resist.
How could something so small feel so huge? she thought.
What is it the Professor wants me to see?
Riveta stared intently at the screen. The net-cafe was busy this morning, emails getting checked, flash games played, clips watched. She had been here since the place opened, as directed. Made sure she sat at the right terminal. Logged onto the message-board using the account she had been provided.
Reading for hours, exchanges between posters about anti-oppression theory, magickal practices, comic books, technological developments. There was a long thread about a decision to ban one of the posters, pages upon pages of text debating communication styles, scientific methodology, language and identity. It was an argument, a discussion, a lament, a challenge.
She watched the words on the screen stream and interlock, conjuring patterns of meaning, mysteries of intent, little pixelated sticks and curves summoning epic passions and petty indulgences. Figures and grounds. The beauty of connection and the terror of disconnection. The thoughts of dozens of people spread across the planet, caged, transmuted, sent into combat with each other. Agonizing contortions of principles and visions, to make a determination of the future presence or absence of one current of text on the message board. To silence or to manage, to embrace or to resist.
How could something so small feel so huge? she thought.
What is it the Professor wants me to see?
20131215
Destination Salvation
Version Crimson C
Riveta woke up in a strange hotel room. It was nice. A suite. She never could have afforded it on her salary.
She tried to stay still, keep her breathing even. Letting the sounds of the room, the city beyond the curtained windows, come to her.
She was alone. There were whirring noises outside that she couldn't recognize.
She sat up, took stock. Her clothes were folded on a nearby chair. Her service revolver was on the nightstand. And a cellphone.
He had said things would likely get strange. Stranger. What was his name...? It seemed like a long time ago.
The cellphone rang. She snapped it open, held it to her ear.
"Good morning, Detective. This is the Professor."
20131212
REALTIME PICS
At the Diner - Max, Suki, Scorpio, Riveta, Stone
Outside the Diner - Max and Simon
Selfies - Donnelly and Mayganne / Suki
Max and Suki discuss who is driving.
20131211
DAY THIRTY 22:00PM
Yum
They were sitting there in the diner, sipping coffee and chatting. It had been nearly 24 hours since the events had occurred.
Max sat at the end of the table, close to the window.
His fingers drumming out the beat going through his head. He didn't know he was doing it, though it made for a ambient sound throughout the diner. The ashtray dancing on the table, adding a crystal cymbal sound now and then. Music was pumping through his veins.
The waitress strolled over with a full coffee urn in her hands; she didn't even have to ask if they wanted more and she began refilling each of them.
Max, Simon, Riveta, Stone, Scorpio and Suki were all tired, going on 2 days without any real sleep at all.
All of them knew that they had things to do and people to see but they could do that tomorrow. Right now, it was just time to sit back and enjoy each others company.
As the last of the coffee was refilled Max said, "Thanks, Alice."
"No," the waitress replied with a smile and a wink; she began dropping creamers onto each of their saucers. "Thank you, Max."
20131210
DAY TWENTYNINE 22:47PM
Scan
Upon the breach of the Citadel-class complex housed within the Tower, a telepathic surveillance sweep was automatically directed towards the infiltrators, for highspeed analysis and distribution to grafted security personnel, for exploitation and counter-tactical responses.
Target A: Josiah Stone
...stopthesesonofbitchesputanend totheirsicktwistedbullshitcomingforyou paybacktimenomoreyoubastardsnomore...
Target B: Sandrine Riveta
...keeptightstayonhisflanknot gonnalosehimagainbreathesteadyinhale triggerexhaleitsjustspecialeffects psyopshitdon'tletitfreakyououtstay onstoneyou'llgetthroughthis...
Target C Milton 'Scorpio' Reddings
...iknowyou'rereadingmymindright nowiknowallaboutyoubecauseiwasyoubut thingsaredifferentnowshesavedmeand we'regoingtosavethemandyoucan'tstopus...
Target D: Simon Light
...it'shappeningreallyhappening theachetheholeinmeit'sclosingthisisitf inallyaftersolongohalisonifyouonlyknew whatwe'redoingwe'regoingtodoitthank youmax...
Target E: Max Cube
...hib4u34847hfi44jhbdf4i4908atf ar232fbedej3i9iedi3u3j3j3bci33903938w jwhddkuwgcdcjn...
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