🚀 go-pugleaf

[Continued From Part Two]

     Arthur Doyle, having satisfied himself through video camera that the
intruder was not a threat, projected a solid hologram of himself into the
screening room where Kayle was raptly viewing 'The Hard Sell: It's For
Their Own Good, Damn It!'.
     "He's pacified?" asked Doyle, glancing at the insubstantial youth.
     "Watch. Kayle?"
     Kayle turned eagerly. "Yes?"
     "Want to buy a PC junior?"
     "Sure!"
     "If I asked you to buy a left-handed monkey wrench, would you?"
     "Yeah!"
     The Spamway salesman turned to Doyle. "You see? He's now malleable. In
this state he could even be convinced that the UPN network was cinema
vertias."
     "It's a terrible practice."
     "It's the only way, I'm afraid."
     Doyle sighed. "Could you bring him around now?"
     The salesman nodded and leaned close to Kayle's ear. "Kayle, even if
you invert a pyramid scheme it's still no closer to being viable."
     Kayle suddenly looked stricken. "But... but everything you told me...
adding friends to my list... earning money... how it would change my
life..."
     "It was all a great big lie!" smiled the salesman beatifically. He
turned to Doyle. "You'll known that the conditioning's completely worn off
when he's done crying and screaming incoherently."
     "Good work," said Doyle.
     "My pleasure."
     "Now back to your escape-proof cell."
     "Aw."
     Doyle turned to Kayle as the Spamway salesman returned to where he
would be safely kept until needed again. "Hello. I understand that your
name is Kayle?"
     Kayle nodded. "Yes it is... are you Mr Doyle?"
     "I am," replied Doyle, having a seat next to Kayle. "I watched the
entire sales pitch and the questioning session afterwards, so I know why
you're here. But what makes you think that I can help you? Don't you
realise that Task Force Aurora's been disbanded?"
     "Yes I do," replied Kayle, turning to Doyle. "But you were in charge
of it for a while. You watched and saw what went on, how people were
helped, the works. All my friends and I need is a little of that help. We
don't know who we are anymore or what we're going to do next." Kayle
indicated this by passing his hand through his seat. "Some of us are
wondering if there's a world out there for us at all."
     Doyle sighed, nodding his head a bit. "Kayle, I understand your
dilemma perfectly."
     "Do you?"
     "Let's say that I've been there myself. I'm not sure how I can help
you, though. What I'm in charge of now is just a very tall building, not an
organisation. We don't support superteams anymore, and from what you've
told me it sounds like superguydom is more or less the world that's out
there for you. I have no money to give to you. No resources. No support.
Nothing."
     Kayle looked at the floor. "I suppose I wasn't expecting too much more
than that."
     Doyle knew very well the feeling that was taking shape in his
simulated stomach: guilt. This was more than just guilt, however, it was
anger at himself for not being able to help someone who was in the same
position he himself had been in the day he had learned that he had become a
machine intelligence. The boy was lost... just as Doyle himself had been.
     He clearly remembered the day of his arrival at the Beanstalk. Doyle
had felt alone, confused and most of all frightened because his identity
was so very far away, packed up in neat little archives which he had
neither room nor time to dissolve and discover. Doyle had been running,
from whom he could not have told anyone, not even himself. But he knew that
he was being pursued by someone who hated loose ends... the knowledge had
boiled up from the same dark crevice that held all of his given memories.
The computer where he had been hiding... (so long ago, how had he forgotten
the boy who had first given him shelter?)... had been a temporary refuge at
best. Desperate and running scared, Doyle had expected nothing more than to
find a last system in which to make a stand against the unknown enemy who
had accidentally released him into the realm 'netspace.
     And somehow Treis had welcomed him in... how had he found the
compassion to do that? Or the trust? There had been so much of both in the
man. He remembered those first moments fondly. Doyle hadn't known it, but
he had found a place where no one cared that he was no longer human and a
construct at that. He had found belonging and yet had considered running
out of fear anyway. Yet TFA had made staying possible...
     No, he corrected himself. Treis had made that possible. Task Force
Aurora had been the tool that he had used. There would have been another
way and Treis would have found it if Doyle had asked him to.
     "Then again..." said Doyle, bringing Kayle's attention back to
himself. "I might not be able to help you directly, but I could smooth the
way for you to find the people who can. Are you familiar with the concept
of patronage?"
     "Yes, I've learned a bit about the government."
     "No, I meant the other kind."
     "You mean... find a patron for our group?"
     Doyle nodded. "Exactly. Someone might be happy to hire on you and your
friends as professional superguys. However, you're going to have to become
professional superguys and seeing as TFA's no longer around to say who is
and who isn't, all that means is that you're going to need a bit of
training."
     "We're not really sure how to do that, though," replied Kayle. "I mean
none of us really cared all that much about this kind of thing, except you
know... watching the news or reading about it in the papers... well, most
of us anyway."
     Doyle nodded, smiling slightly. "It's hard to learn something without
a teacher, isn't it?"
     "Yes, it is."
     "I happen to know someone who might know how you feel. As a matter of
fact, I think she's at loose ends about what to do herself. If I manage to
talk her into taking a vacation from moping around, would you and your
friends be willing to take a few lessons?"
     Kayle grinned at Doyle. "We'd have to talk it over, but I don't think
anyone would have too much of a problem with that. Can I give you a number
where we can be reached?"
     "Naturally. I'll give you a call as soon as I know for sure."
     "Thanks. I appreciate the help... I appreciate it a lot."
     Doyle nodded, looking somewhat distant. "I know you do. Good luck,
Kayle. And sorry about the intrusion system. We can't be too careful around
here you know."
     "GAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!" screamed a voice from far off that rang
through the metal corridors like a wild animal's dying scream.
     "What on Earth was that?" asked Kayle, stunned by the ferocity of the
scream.
     "Oh, that would be Doug. He keeps forgetting that TFA was dissolved
and tries to come to work."
     "So?"
     "When he finds the door locked he breaks in. That sounds as though it
might have been the electrosnare this time."
     "Electrosnare?"
     "Don't worry too much it's a merciful device. We'll release him back
into his native habitat once he regains control of his gross motor
functions."
     "If... you say so."
     "I do. Good evening, Kayle."
     "Evening Mr Doyle. And thanks."
     Doyle smiled at Kayle and nodded as the boy departed. He stood and
wandered over to shut off the VCR that still blared its sales pitch to an
uncaring room. With a thoughtful expression on his face, Doyle derezzed and
returned to his computer system.
***
     Grant looked up from Yet Another Cover Letter as the door of Dianna's
house opened. Shyrose walked in and tossed a mask onto the sofa, plunking
herself down with a sigh.
     "How'd it go?" he asked, looking back down at his work.
     "Oh, the usual," replied Shyrose as she brushed hair from her eyes.
"Made creepy noises, swung from the light fixtures, hid in the frozen food
stall when the police locked onto my scent... I tell you, being a phantom
in a supermarket just isn't that good a job."
     "Why couldn't they place you in some cathedral or a haunted house or
something?"
     "Do you know what kind of a waiting list there is on those things?
Damn, I was lucky that I didn't get a public library to haunt! You have to
keep your ghastly sounds down to a respectful hush!"
     "You know, this phantom thing is killing you. Maybe you should find
some other job."
     "Yeah sure. Like what? Anyway, are the others here?"
     Grant nodded, signing his name to the letter. "Yup. Kitchen. Came over
about an hour ago. They're working on dinner."
     Shyrose stood to walk to the kitchen but stopped when a knock at the
door sounded. "Hey... are we expecting company?"
     "Nah. Beats me who it could be. Want me to scare them off?"
     Shyrose shook her head. "No. Maybe they'll be interesting. See what
they want and _then_ scare whoever it is off."
     Grant stood and walked to the door, peering through the hole. "Hunh?"
     "What?"
     "There's... a woman who can make a crewcut really work for her at the
door!"
     "Is she selling anything?"
     "How should I know?" asked Grant, opening the door. "Hi!"
     The woman who stood outside wore fatigues and stood upright with the
help of a cane, though she showed no signs of advanced age. Her brown hair
was trimmed neatly in a no-nonsense military style that kept it out of her
clearly intelligent eyes. "Hello. Is this the Stevens residence?"
     "I'd love to, eight tonight?" managed Grant. A light slap from Shyrose
restored his senses. "I mean, yes it is, want to come in?"
     "Yeah, might help if I came inside. You'd be one of Kayle's friends?"
     "Grant... what do we call you?"
     "Jennings. I'd give you my rank, but that's kind of a thing of the
past and my serial number would just bore you to tears. Who am I
addressing?"
     "Um... Grant. Grant Noland, nice to meet you."
     "I hope you don't take offence if we're on a last name basis for the
duration," said Jennings, stepping into the house, "because we're going to
be that way anyhow and there's no use people simmering over nothing,
Noland. Are the rest of your kid's pack here?"
     Grant bristled slightly but nodded. "Yeah. They're in the kitchen."
     "Bring them out here. I'll wait."
     Grant opened his mouth to protest then shut it again, retreating to
fetch his friends. He emerged with the others sans Tom, who lumbered in
through the front door moments later. Jennings watched them for a bit
before standing in a relaxed and ready position to address the crowd.
     "Interesting bunch we've got here," she said, looking over the
transformed youths. "I'm Jennings. You haven't heard of me, but I was the
Task Force Auroran trooper who looked good in a hardsuit.
     "Doyle got a message to me that you kids needed some help getting into
top form and god only knows why, he thinks that I can help you. Since I'm
not exactly busy these days, I'll be doing what I can to get you kids to
pass muster.
     "I'll warn you right now, I was career military before I got retired
so that's what I know and that's what I'll be teaching you. If anyone has a
problem with that, yell it out now so I'll know who's in the program and
who's sitting it out. This isn't summer camp that I'm here to teach, boys
and girls. I'm not going to be turning you into soldiers either. This is
going to be heroism the way Portia Jennings sees it and you're getting no
guarantees on what you learn except that you'll be giving one-hundred ten
percent of your best learning it. Now, let's get to introductions. You know
my name, sound off."
     Kayle blinked and looked at the others.
     "You'll do for a start," said Jennings, gesturing to Kayle with her cane.
     "Kayle... Kayle Swanson."
     "Sabrina Timor."
     "Um... well, you know me already... Grant Noland..."
     "Shyrose Motree."
     "Dianna... oh, Dianna Stevens."
     Jennings looked at Tom, standing silent and still. "What about him?"
     "That's Tom Williamson," replied Sabrina, brushing a lock of hair back
behind her ear. "He can't talk."
     "Hunh," replied Jennings, limp-pacing back and forth in front of the
assembled group. "Who here knows sign?"
     The youths looked at each other before Kayle nodded. "I learned it a
few years ago."
     "Any good at it?"
     "I'm passable."
     "Good. We'll be learning sign from you."
     "Wait," said Shyrose. "we?"
     "Yes 'we', Motree" replied Jennings, coming to a halt in front of
Shyrose. "Everyone who's in this program is going to learn to communicate
with each other, myself included. The first rule of being in a unit, no
matter what kind, is that you've got to trust your teammates. The second
you start wondering if the person who's covering your back is doing his
job, you stop paying attention to your goal and start worrying about what's
behind you."
     "Excuse me, miss?" said Sabrina.
     "First, I'm married," replied Jennings, turning to face Sabrina.
"Secondly, address me as either ma'am or Jennings, I have no preference
either way. Now, what's your question, Timor?"
     "Just... well, why did you get sent here? Why you?"
     "Why not someone else?" asked Jennings, with a tight smile. "Good
question, we need to get to know each other and what we're all capable of.
As I said, I'm military and I was with TFA, so I know a lot about units and
supers. I had to retire a few months back because of a spinal accident,"
she gestured with her cane. "As you can see, it had some lasting
consequences. One of those consequences is that now I'm one of you. I got
my world slammed upside down in front of me and was told to make do."
Jennings allowed a controlled smile. "That's what I've done, that's what
you're going to do. Sound good?"
     "Sounds good, ma'am," replied Sabrina with a grin. "When would we start?"
     "Unless there're any nay-sayers, we already have. Anyone who wants to
back out now before I turn on the heat, raise your hand."
     Jennings smiled as no hands were raised. "I'm glad to see that you can
commit yourself. It remains to see if that commitment means anything, and
the answer to that's up to you. I understand that you were preparing
dinner?"
     "Yes ma'am," replied Dianna. "We were..."
     "Speak up," replied Jennings. "I can barely hear you over the sound of
the house settling."
     "Yes ma'am," managed Dianna in a tone of voice that was barely louder
than her last. Jennings smiled slightly but said nothing. "We're having
stew. Would you like to stay?"
     "I would, in the long term if you can billet me. I'll pay for lodgings
and I won't interfere with your lives outside of lessons. Which,
incidentally, begin immediately after dinner when we scope out what we can
all do, both with powers and without."
     "Yes ma'am!" replied the youths, leading their guest off to the dinner
table.
***
     Outside of Dianna's house stood a man who watched the scene through a
front window. With a wry chuckle, he turned and walked away, vanishing
mid-step as he cleared the road which passed in front of the building. It
took another moment for his laughter to fade completely away. And all was
quiet, for the moment.

[To Be Continued]

***
As usual, this story is trademarked, all rights reserved 1997 to
Frobozz/Chris Angelini (email:frobozz@eyrie.org homepage:
http://www.eyrie.org/~frobozz). Everything alluded to is intended as
satire, and no trademark infringement is intended or implied. Keep this
copyright notice out of the hands of children.