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Okay, let's see if this one gets through without being bounced back to me!
SG: The Tribe of Behn #4: The Interview With The Author(s)

     It started like a typical night in the Author's Pit: Milton and
Jonston were arguing some philosophical point as though it would decide
the fate of the world's future, Spenser, Doyle and Elizabeth were playing
Anti-Monopoly in front of the television. Dickens was hard at work on his
new novel. And Aphra was on the phone. However, it was not a typical
night, as there was a...intruder would be too strong a word...uninvited
guest in the caves: Will 'da Bruiser' Shakespeare. He was an enigma, who
seemed to come from the team's future, a future who's past is
unrecognisable to the rest of the Tribe (or anyone reading this digest
for the last few weeks!).
     "Really?", asked Aphra from the phone, as her conversation was just
too dull to record here, despite the fascination that people have with
the 'collected letters' of famous writers...I mean really, isn't that
just an invasion of a person's privacy? So what if they're dead, and
famous, if you fit those two criteria, would you like the Christmas Card
you sent to your grandmother when you were twelve published for the
consumption of the masses? No! Obviously not! Suffice to say, the
conversation was boring, and I'm not going to record it here on sheer
principle. Hrumph. So there if you're one of those people who buys the
National Tattler to find out who is sleeping with whom. Mind your own
bloody business.
     "Do you think he's really serious about that?", whispered Doyle to
Gaskell.
     "No, he just likes to rant on about things...let him get it out of
his system. He usually does by the second page anyway.", replied Gaskell.
     "Okay, seven o'clock, then. Bye!" Aphra hung up the phone. She
turned to address the rest of her tribe. "Okay, I called up the TV
station. They were pretty impressed by our fire-fighting, and they want
up on 'Canada Today'. I said that we'd be down there tomorrow at seven.
Anyone got plans?"
     Remembering little more than a week is great for creating freedom in
the schedule. Suffice to say, no one had plans.
***
     The craft entered the solar system of the main sequence star in
question. It quickly activated its 'sensor baffles', which would cause
any sort of active detection system to 'change channel' and lock onto
some other phenomenon. By the time the craft entered Earth's orbit, many
ground based radar installations (most of which would ordinarily have no
chance of locking onto such a distant craft) were tuned into 'I Love
Lucy', a horrifying situation for the world powers, even if it was the
one where Lucy wanted to get into Ricky's band.
     On board intelligences quickly analysed radio and television
transmissions, surprisingly (and let's face it... sadly) assembling a
very accurate picture of North America's culture and language from
popular media. Quickly, infiltration units were biologically constructed,
and kitted out with reentry suits. They proceeded to the airlock, and
stealthed their way through Earth's atmosphere. They fell far from each
other, as intended.
     The craft glid on through space, continuing with its mission.
***
     The studio was well lit. The Superguys were made up, and they had
been briefed on the things that they could and couldn't discuss on
camera. It was going to be a fairly informal affair...although Sally (the
fire person from last episode, she got a promotion from bit part to
recurring fifth business, and along with that comes a name) hoped that
these people weren't as...volatile as some of the Superguy interviews
that she'd seen. The countdown was given, bland tasteless music played,
and the interview began.
     "Hello.", began the newly minted recurring character. "I'm Sally
Donne, and welcome to 'Canada Today' were we discuss, well, Canada. I'd
like to turn our attention to Windsor, from where we're doing a special
report. Everyone, please welcome the newest members of the Canadian
Superguy community...The Tribe of Behn!"
     Audience members, prompted by 'applause' signs (and burly security
people silently reminding them of the penalty for not applauding when
instructed) provided a sincere applause. Not sincere enough, however, as
a few hundred volts ran through the back of the chairs. Those without
pacemakers clapped all the louder, which pleased the security people.
This crowd might survive even three more tapings!
     After the frantic (and life sustaining) applause died down, Sally
turned to Aphra. "So, I guess my first question is: why the Tribe of
Behn? Why not the Crimestoppers or Death-on-Wheels?"
     "Well", began Aphra, hoping the clip on mike was working, "Its an
allusion to the Tribe of Ben in the seventeenth century. Only using my
name, instead of his (nod over to Jonston). My 'tribe' gave it to me. I
hope I can live up to the trust."
     "And that brings me to my next question. I understand that all of
you are named after famous writers, tell me about that. Why did you take
such...unconventional names?"
     "It was thrust upon us really." Aphra looked a bit nervous. She
glanced at the rest of her team, seeking their permission to tell their
story. Almost unanimously, it was given. "You see, none of us really
remembers who we are, beyond our name."
     Sally leaned forward. "Really? So you're all blank slates?"
     "No. We have lots of memories, just no life history to...fit them
all into."
      "That's really interesting. What have you remembered?"
      "Just the basics. Our names, as I mentioned, a few memories of our
past 'interactions', basic skills, and so on. For instance. I can
remember that our previous Prime Minister was a woman called Kim. I could
even give you a date if pressed. But I don't have any sense of where I
was during her session as PM." Aphra began to look a bit lost, as though
the enormity of what her team had had taken from them only hit home then,
in front of thousands of views. Sally quickly moved on to the next question.
     "So, why don't you introduce yourselves?"
     "Well,  I'm Aphra."
     Sally interjected. "How about a little historical background?"
     "Um...that WAS in the first episode."
     "Just a quick one?"
     "All right. Seventeenth century playwright. Didn't sell out. Happy?"
     "I'm Milton. Wrote 'Paradise Lost'. Every second year English
student had to study that one."
     "Elizabeth Gaskell. Wrote a lot of 19th century pieces about the
underclasses and their plights."
     "Conan Doyle. I chronicled the life of the great detective you all
know and love, who lived on Baker Street."
     "Charles Dickens. Next time you see a 'Canadian Tire' ad where you
can 'Save like Scrooge'...they're using one of mine. Nineteenth century."
     "Ben Jonston. Arguably one of the greatest playwrights of the
seventeens - or any - period."
     "Ed Spenser. W-w-w-rote the "Faerie Queen", "The Shepherds
Calender", Complaints. Th-th-that sort of th-th-thing."
     "Shakespeare. Dat's me. I pre'fer 'da Bruiser' tho. Less woidy. I
wrote plays and stuff I tink."
     Sally took a deep breath and counted to ten after that last one.
"Okay...I'm a bit confused. Are you actually the authors in question,
'returned from the dead?'"
     The audience, seeing the 'laughter' sign, engaged in a very
Pavlovian chuckle at Sally's quip.
     Milton motioned that he would take this question. "Actually, we're
not. Or maybe we are. Sort of. That is we are but we aren't?"
     Ben snorted. "That is Milton for you. John, perhaps you should
collect yourself, and I shall respond to this one. We seem to have
memories both of a modern life, as well as our earlier lives. Some of us,
myself included, have retained our wit and genius. Others...(glare at
Shakespeare) seem to be blessed with a significantly lower portion of
their previous self."
     Shakespeare, smiled. "Tanks. Dat means a lot comin' from you."
     Sally bounced back with this revelation. "Well, its certainly a
different problem! I'm sure glad my only problem is keeping my English
Muffin from burning in the morning!"
     More laughter from the audience. One attendee's blood pressure
reached terminal levels,  but otherwise, the audience participation was
uneventful.
     "So, now its time to tell us all about the one thing we really want
to know about. Your powers. What can you do?"
     Gaskell took this one. "We can do a lot. Some people can do things
relating to what they wrote. But Shakespeare and myself...well we haven't
figured out what ours means. I can push myself through things. Aphra is a
'creator of worlds'; she can make things out of thin air! Milton can get
some really 'Paradise Lost'-ian servants to appear. Doyle's smart, and
Ben can use his arro...wit to repel things. Dickens can make people very
happy, and Spenser can open a door to Faerieland. Oh, and Shakespear's
really strong."
     "Thank you Liz. Now, do you mind if I ask you...where do you hang
out? Do you have some orbital satellite, or a mountain retreat?"
     "No, Aphra made us a base. I don't think I'd like to say where it
is, because we like it quiet."
     "Fair enough, fair enough. Got a computer?"
     Spenser looked up. "W-w-why would we n-n-need a comp-p-puter?"
     Sally looked puzzled. "Well EVERY team needs a computer! And not one
of little home computer types. Its a well known fact that a good team has
a powerful, sometimes thinking, computer to handle their calls and tell
them important things and sometimes serve as a plot device!"
     "We've got a-a-an answering machine, a-a-a daytime planner a-a-and
Milton. I-i-in that order. I don't see w-w-why we have to d-d-d-do it the
high tech way?"
     Sally threw up her hands. "Well go ahead. Break convention. Just
like you refuse to wear spandex! And you shouldn't have told me your real
names!"
     Aphra leaned forwards, "Thank you for the advice. We're new, so we
will make mistakes. I just ask you to forgive us. But we'll be fine
without spandex, I think."
     "Suit yourself. You're the Superguy. Let me ask you a little about
your personal lives. Any romance in the air? Any of you married?"
     The group looked at each other. They all looked back at Sally.
Dickens spoke. "I'm pretty sure that I'm not married. Be a real shock to
me if I was! *chuckle* But no, so far its been mostly business. With all
our ties to the world cut, we really need each other there for support,
its been like a brother/sister thing. But who knows, maybe as time goes
on..."
     Milton was looking very pale. He stared straight ahead.
     "Okay, so no romance yet. Hey you out there watching, if you want a
great catch, don't let these ones get away! They're available, and
they're super!"
     Audience chuckle. Not as successful as last time. Three attendees
had to be made 'examples of'.
     "So, what do you all like to do? Anyone bungee jumping? Parasailing?
Kick boxing?"
     Dickens leaned forwards again. "Well...we like to watch TV. And
we're writing. Well, some of us are (glare at Shakespeare). And, we play
cards. Sometimes we rent movies..." Dickens noticed that Sally was not
impressed by his list. He thought quickly. "And we sometimes get popcorn
with real butter, not that artificial kind that's supposed to be better
for you. " There. THAT ought to convince her that we live life on the
wild side.
     "Mmm hmmm. So you really don't do much of anything? How do you stay
in such good shape?"
     "A constant diet of rice pudding."
     "What!?"
     "Never mind. What do you want from us? We've been in circulation for
less time than M. Short's new show and you want us scaling mountains?
Give us some time, please!"
     "Sorry, sorry. Didn't mean to offend. Anyhow..."
     "I'm married!"
     "What?"
     The speaker was Milton. Realisation had suddenly crossed his face!
     "I said I'm married!"
    "What?"
     "What?"
     "What?"
     "What?"
     "Hunh?"
      "I said: I'm married!"
      The entire Tribe plus Sally shouted out: "We heard you the first
time, dammit! Elaborate!"
     "It just hit me, when Sally asked us that question about romance! I
am married...to you?"
     Milton suddenly turned, and pointed at Aphra! Tellingly, he had
initially turned to face Elizabeth.
     "You're...right. It is starting to come back to me. I don't know why
I didn't remember before. Well, this REALLY changes things."
     "Yes, it does, doesn't it?", replied Milton, still in shock.
     "Well, you heard it here first, folks! A true tale of lost love found!"
     Canned 'awwwwwwwwsssss....' had to be used. Sentiment is very hard
to force from the traumatised.
     Milton and Aphra stood up, and kissed, while the camera recorded the
moment for posterity. After several moments of smiling incredulously at
each other, the two resumed their seats.
     "Well, that was a real discovery!", said Sally. "Let's keep digging,
see what else comes up! Are any of you religious?"
     Aphra began. "I'm a United Churcher."
     Milton: "I prefer to think of myself as Christian.
'Omni-denominational' maybe?"
     Gruffly, but seriously Jonson replied, "Agnostic."
     Gaskell blinked a few times, and realised that Sally was looking at
her. "What was the question? I'm sorry."
     "We were just asking about religious beliefs."
     "Oh. Catholic." She continued to look distracted.
     Dickens smiled. "Despite my historical background, I'm Jewish."
     Spenser thought for a moment. "A-a-atheist I guess."
     Doyle stroked his chin, "Hmm...undecided. Not quite an atheist, I
guess I need a little proof. So for want of a better word, agnostic."
     Shakespeare grinned. "I'm Protestant. Wanna make somethin of it?"
     Sally grimaced. "No, not especially." She turned to the rest of the
team. "Does this cause any problems within the group?"
     Dickens spoke up. "Sorry? Does what cause problems?"
     "This mixture of faiths."
     Behn spoke up. "Not really. We're all fairly tolerant of each other.
Of other religions too. We just haven't been around other people long
enough to practice tolerance anywhere other than the group! But to answer
your question, no. Sometimes Ben and I like to get into an argument over
it, but its all in good fun. Faith is a highly personal matter, and we
treat it as such."
     Jonson nodded. "I see little point in debating over that which
cannot be proven or disproven. I use those encounters to sharpen my
already keen-edged wit."
     Sally looked at the frantically gesturing managing director. "Time
for a commercial. But don't go away, we'll be back in just a moment with
more of Aphra and her Tribe!"
***
     This year, almost three thousand children will drop out of school.
They won't pursue a post-secondary education. Some of them won't even
finish high school. They will, however, be out on the street. With your
car. We feel that this is a tragedy, so we want to make a difference. Buy
Jiffy brand car alarms. Its an 'educated' decision.
***
     Got back pains? Leg pains? Pains anywhere? Thinking of going to a
chiropractor, holistic doctor or some other specialty healer? Think
again! They're all quacks! Instead, take aspirin. Lots of it. Whenever
you have a pain. Doctors tell you to consult them when you've got pain,
but secretly they just want your money! Don't bother with them, take
aspirin! Maximum dosage? For wimps! For really strong pains, take the
whole bottle! And don't worry about the cost...isn't comfort worth it?
Brought to you by the makers of Fine Pharmaceuticals(tm). Where second
best is good enough.
***
  "Hi, we're back, and this is Sally Donne. In case you missed that first
segment, or are one of the 75% of our viewers who demographically can't
remember something for more than thirty seconds, we're chatting with
Windsor's newest Superguy team: The Tribe of Behn! I hope you don't mind
if we start right back in with the questions. Does the team as a whole
have any future goals?"
     "Well" began Aphra, "I'd certainly like the team to make a
difference. So we'll be fighting fires in the future, as well as crime
and drugs - that sort of thing. But we'd like to do more: visit
hospitals, talk to classes, anything we can do to really help out in the
community."
     "Anyone else?"
     Ben Jonson spoke up. "I also feel strongly that we should involve
ourselves with education.  There is no notion that I find more
frightening than our future leaders growing up only with the moral values
taught to them by their video game machines."
     Gaskell nodded, still somewhat confused. "Me too."
     "I'd like ta do sumpin to educate kiddies too. ", replied
Shakespeare. "And also I wanna meet my hero too."
     "Who is that?", inquired Sally.
     "Sly. Sly Stallone. His performances were like magic ta me. I based
my life on dat guy."
     "Didn't he die a few months ago?"
     "What!! When I get my hand on da bum dat moided him..."
     Quickly Dickens concentrated. Moments later, Shakespeare was smiling
again.
     Sally smiled at the camera. "Well, that's all the time we have for
Aphra and her gang! Let's have a big hand for them...and welcome our next
guest, an alien invader who claims to have kidnapped Jimmie
Hoffa...Zoltrax the Annihaltor!"
    Half the audience perished painlessly due to cardiac arrest.
***
     Gggthxtsth of the Needlessly Complex Name was ready. It was time to
punish the one who dared intrude upon his domain, and the race of beings
who lived on a small planet they called Soil. He could not intervene
directly, not yet, but he had a method which would cause the most
suffering and terror on the planet which dared question Gggthxtsth's
supremacy of power. He remolded dozens of his minion-demons into
identical copies of the humans themselves. Then, he granted them the
rarest gift of all: a sliver of sentience. Ready, they were pushed
through a rift in space/time, to the troublesome world of Soil, where
they would insinuate themselves into the population, gain immense
political power...and shortly rule the world under an iron grasp of fear.
Would Gggthxtsth ever have been ticked to find out that someone had
already thought of that one! He would discover this unpleasant fact for
himself...shortly...and when he did, there would be pseudo-Hell
(pseudo-tm) to pay.
As usual, this story is trademarked, all rights reserved 1994 to Chris
Angelini (email:cangelin@uoguelph.ca). Everything alluded to is intended
as satire, and no trademark infringement is intended nor implied. All
rights reserved. All lefts, however, are free for the taking.