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."

Drowning

"It was stupid," Simon said. "I wasn't hungry, but I ate the whole thing. The whole bowl. I just kept eating and eating. And I was so stuffed. felt like crap." 

"Compulsive behaviour," Susan said.


"It's been like that with everything. Talking with my co-workers. Watching movies. I'm doing all these things but I don't know why. I don't feel good. About anything."


"Go on," Susan prompted.


"I tried writing about it, in a journal. Like you suggested. But... well, it hurt. Does that make sense? It hurt to try and put it into words. Felt so rough and jagged... I feel tired all the time. Plus I'm out of shape. I can't get motivated."


"You tend to be hard on yourself," Susan observed.


"Yeah, but when I hear stuff like that... I feel I'm not being hard enough. I'm not being the person I'm supposed to be."


"What about the person you want to be?"


"I don't know. I sleep odd hours. Go to the office. Put some time in the field. The cases I'm on don't feel like they matter. Any agent could do them, and it won't really matter either way if they ever get closed."

"What do you think you need, Simon?" she asked.

"You know I hate that. The whole 'getting your needs met' angle. Like we're these mechanical processes of exchange. Treating our feelings like an economy."

Simon sighed. They were silent for a while. 

When you feel like there is something wrong, how do you know if it's the world that's wrong or if it's you? How do you know what to change? 

"I feel like I should go home," Simon said. "But I know that when I get there I'll feel like I need to go out. Then I'll end up going out to the coffee shop. And when I get there I'll feel like I need to go home."

Who is Watching the Watched

3:55am. Subject awakes with nosebleed. Subject goes into the bathroom and washes up. Subject then proceeds to study face in mirror for 3:17 minutes. Subject looks into self's eyes and then heads back to sleep.

5:59am. Subject awakes before alarm clock. Subject reaches over and shuts it off before it has a chance to turn on. Subject proceeds in daily ritual of preparations.

6:17am. Subject's cellphone rings. Subject picks it up and answers (recorded static bursts. have technicians see if they can hear anything at all). Subject hangs up phone and proceeds to head out door. Subject picks up phone and calls work tells them illness is a factor. Subject proceeds to leave.

6:45am. After subject leaves home. Subject walks a few blocks and heads for a coffee shop; Good Tomes. (research owners of establishment. check connections). Subject has a coffee and is chatting with a girl (received static on hand held mic). Interference bursters in effect. Subject definitely has been targeted.

Alison Meets With Simon Part Three

Her cell phone rang. Simon suddenly felt panicked.

"Don't answer that," he said.


She had fished it out of her purse, beside her on the bench in the park.


"Why not?" she asked as she checked the screen. "It's just my mom."


She raised the phone to her ear. Simon almost grabbed her arm. His eyes wide, fear exploding in his chest.


"Hi mom."


A white van stopped on the street bordering the park.


"Alison," he said harshly. "We have to go." He stood up, reached for her.


She gestured to give her a second. "Yeah mom, Thursday is still good for me."


The window of the van rolled down and the rifle barrel emerged.


"Four o'clock," Alison said.


Simon stepped away, trying to put distance between them, to keep her safe, and realized too late, the knowledge crashing like thunder through him. He wasn't the target.


"K mom, see you then."


He reversed his momentum, shifting to throw himself on her. To cover her, hold her, save her. Too late.


The blood erupted from her head. The gunshot crashed like thunder through the park. He landed on her and tackled her off the bench. Her blood splattered across his face.


Too late.

Alison Meets With Simon Part Two

Alison and Simon used to go driving for long drives all the time. They would talk about all sorts of things - movies, history, politics. They would listen to music. He had hesitated when she asked him today. Made a few feeble excuses. She pushed. 

They were on a back road. Trees and farms and fields.


"You know, I used to think you were psychic," she said.


He smiled. "Really? That's... weird."


"You were a weird guy. Not psychic like on the talk shows. But you had these insights. These really neat takes on things. People and situations."


"Hm." Simon stared at the window.


"You don't seem angry," she said. "You seem sad."


"Both I guess, back and forth."


"Like before."


"But different."


They drove. Alison had a Blue Rodeo cd playing quietly.


"Sometimes," Simon said, "it feels like every case I get assigned to is the same case."


"How do you mean? It gets repetitive?"


"Yeah, but it's not only that. I mean it feels like there's really just one big case and every assignment I get is sortof one facet of it."


Alison wished she could ask more questions about the work Simon did. About the details. And part of her was glad she didn't have to know.


"That one last month seemed to take a lot out of you," she said, trying to support him from outside the walls.


His brow furrowed. "Which one?"


"That last big one. Whatever it was about, well, you sounded on the phone like you were on the edge. Like it was maxing you out."


Simon looked at her. "I don't remember."

Alison Meets With Simon Part One

Alison sat down. "I hope you weren't waiting long."

Simon shrugged. "I came pretty early."


"How long have you been here?" They had agreed to meet at the coffeeshop after the morning rush.


"Well... All night."


Alison sighed. "You're not sleeping again."


Simon sipped his coffee. "Yeah."


"Can you tell me what's going on?"


He looked around awkwardly. "It's... It's like before. I guess. Different though, too."


"I'm sorry, Simon. Do you know... I mean..." She struggled to find the right words, to be concerned, gentle, but persistent enough, otherwise she wouldn't reach him.


"It's frustrating," he said. "Things have been going so well." She was equally relieved and disturbed by his willingness to respond.


"How's the work?" she asked. Sipped her coffee.


"I don't know... It feels like a job. Everything's been about the office, about politics. About policies and paperwork. I've forgotten what the actual work is supposed to be about, I think."


"What's changed?"


"Some positions in management have shuffled around. I don't know. I don't think it's just me. Everyone seems disillusioned there right now."


"Are you upset you didn't get that other job?"


Simon shook his head. "I'm glad, I think. Given how I'm feeling, it probably wouldn't have been a good fit."


Alison fixed him with a look. "And how are you feeling?"


He didn't avoid the question, or deflect it. His answer surprised her.


"Angry."


"How come? At what?" Simon was always pretty laid back. She knew that the field he worked in was stressful; she had seen him work through burn-out a few times. He'd never been angry before. Or at least he'd never been open about it.


"I don't know. Everything."


She made her voice soften. "Are you feeling lost?"


"No," Simon said. "I feel found. And it feels wrong."

Shadows Full of Light

"Jebus!" Goner said shockingly, making Frank jump up suddenly. His heart picked up the pace a few notches. 

Finally some excitement. 

"What is it?" Frank asked. He came running out of the car, his hands went into his jacket and onto the pistols that were holstered there. Waiting for a chance to sing again.

"I think I saw Suki!" Goner said as came back excitedly. He had been standing by the exit. It was like a view screen on a wall; no matter what they had done they just couldn't step through it. But it was like the same thing with the vendors and the newspaper; each and every morning the view would show a different location.

"Suki!" Frank said. It could be a sign of cabin fever. "Did she see you?"

"No. Just when I was staring out the exit and looking at the faces going by, I could have sworn I saw Suki. But she looked older!"

Then the subway car hissed for the first time in what appeared to be a long while.

Benched

Suki passed by an entrance to the subway and had a flash of nostalgia for her childhood. Old friends, strange places. No time for it now.

She stayed on the road-side of the sidewalk, so no one could pull her into a doorway or alley, or in case she needed to rush out into traffic to create confusion. Of course, whatever was hunting her could be invisible and ready to impale her any moment without warning. Hazards of the job. She had missed it. It felt different from when she was that schoolgirl - it was heavier and coloured with sadness now -  but it still had that pulse.


Click. Click. Click.


"I know, I know," she whispered under her breath. That pulse is what had got her in this trouble. All these ambushes, all these strange attacks, and she met each one head on, Godhammer blazing. Just like the old days. Hide and seek with enemy agents, fatal games of tag with spooky beasts, Hong Kong cinema gunfights with mooks and Big Bads.


All thrilling and exhilarating and full of act-three, near-death goodness. And each one had kept her distracted from the real plot. Had kept her isolated. She was being set-up, sidelined. She was stuck in the lobby and the main show had already started.

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."

We Will Throck You

Simon awoke on the floor of his apartment. His phone was ringing but he never got up to answer it. His head swimming, buzzing with information or it could be the tequila. Was he drinking last night, he couldn't remember. Heck he couldn't remember what day it was. He lifted up his head and glanced around, trying to regain focus on the task at hand. His head still swimming, as if he was seeing through his eyes but from a distance. If that made any sense at all, he thought.

His cellphone rang this time. He made to move to answer it. His mind and his body ached and all he wanted to do was sleep now.


Homer sleep now.


He chuckled at that thought. A reference to a roughly drawn animated series had snapped him out of his sluggish state and he reached for the cellphone.

Chaos Splatter

Suki swung around with the butt of the gun, smashing into someone's face. She could feel the nose turning into mush and hear a bone-jarring crunch from the impact. It meant that she was ticked off at the moment. She broke away from her falling assailant's grip and spun around, kicking up her leg straight into the groin of the other fellow. The kick was with such power and ferocity that the recipient would be singing soprano for a long, long time.

Two done. Only forty four more to go.


It was going to be one of those days.

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.

Drama Pauses

For the past three days Alice had been feeling uneasy. She felt like she was being stalked or watched but she couldn't see anyone at all. She went about her work at the diner, always keeping an eye around her. She couldn't shake that feeling, like the hairs on the back of your neck sensing that someone is watching you.

Kelly's Diner was busy as the lunchtime crowd were beginning to show up. There were four of them on duty at this moment and the cook in the back was rockin' out to the beat, the radio blasting away as he prepared today's special. Alice began refilling the coffee but the urn was empty. She had a little trouble opening the coffee bag and ended up ripping it in half, spilling coffee onto the floor. A couple of the lads at the counter began to clap.

"You okay, Alice?" asked Connie. Connie had been working here for the past year. "You seem out of it today."

"Yeah," Alice replied as she picked up the broom and a dust pan. 

"Just tired I guess."

"Me too," Connie replied. "I couldn't get to sleep last night. You ever have one of those recurring dreams?"

Alice paused for a moment. Something that Connie said made her think. She realized that for the past week now she wasn't having any dreams. None at all, and that was funny since most everyone can remember little aspects of their dreams.