🚀 go-pugleaf

[Continued From Part One]

     A gentle knock at the door roused Dianna from her fitful sleep.
Stretching her sore joints she stood and opened her door.
     "Shyrose?" she said quietly, looking at the displeased woman standing
without.
     "That's what I kept telling them," muttered Shyrose, stepping into the
house. "For twenty minutes I tried to convince my parents that I was their
daughter. Their own daughter, damn it. The one who inscribed her love in
Crayola all over their walls at five. We screamed, we shouted, we argued
and damn it, they were as pig-headed as I am!"
     "I'm sorry," replied Dianna, biting her lip. "I really wish they'd
listened to you."
     "Oh, they did," said Shyrose, sighing. She indicated the suitcases on
the front step. "I... was wondering, Di. Could I stay here? I kind of got
kicked out of the house."
     "Why?" asked Dianna, gaping. "Why did your parents kick you out? Was
it because of your appearance?"
     "Nah, they demanded that I demo my power and I accidentally absorbed
the good rug when shapeshifting. An heirloom, they kept crying and wailing.
Priceless. Sheesh, if it's worth so much, why keep it on the ground where
just anybody can suck it into their bodies for mass?"
     "You can stay," said Dianna, smiling slightly as she spoke with little
more than a hushed whisper.
     "Thanks... and Di?"
     "Yes?"
     "I'm gonna do my share around here to earn my keep. No more
freeloading. Promise."
     "I didn't mind..."
     Shyrose shrugged. "Maybe you did, maybe you didn't. But that doesn't
change that we did it and we shouldn't've. Hey... Di... I just had a sick
thought."
     "Um?"
     "Well... how in the name of hell(tm) am I going to be able to find
work looking like this?"
     Dianna sighed, thinking.
     "My mother... left me with a modest trust fund. That's what I've been
living off of. It could support two as well as one I suppose, but not very
luxuriously."
     "That's fine. I'm used to living like a Spartan," grinned Shyrose.
"But I'm not going to leech off of you forever. There's gotta be something
out there for someone like me. Hey, I've got it! What's the asking rate for
phantoms to haunt Paris opera houses, Di?"
     Dianna's reply was interrupted by another knock at the door. She
opened it to reveal Tom and Kayle respectively standing on and floating
above the porch.
     "Hi guys," said Kayle with a soundless sigh while Tom waved briefly.
"Mind if we come in?"
     "No, please..." replied Dianna, stepping well aside to let Tom lumber
past. "How..."
     "Did it go?" asked Kayle dryly. "Absolutely wonderful. Ever seen a
'ghost' and a 'golem' try to explain to two superstitious people that their
son is really the big hulking metal guy on their doorstep? No? You should
try it sometime. It's more fun than you could possibly stand. It's
especially entertaining when someone pulls out the shotgun and starts
trying to shoot you, though that sort of indicates that the conversation's
at an end, doesn't it?"
     "Oh Tom..." sighed Dianna, looking at the silvered Task who sat on her
floor, face featureless yet somehow conveying abject misery and betrayal.
     "How'd... um... how'd yours go?" asked Shyrose, looking over at Kayle.
     "Before or after mom fainted and dad got out the crucifix?"
     "After I guess..."
     "After? Well, I convinced them that I was still me."
     "How did you manage that?" asked Dianna, with a faint curiosity.
     Kayle's sworling body seemed to swirl more violently for a moment and
his abstracted face was clearly showing embarrassment. "I sang the complete
selection of 'H.M.S. Pinafore'... um.. learned it for a show in school..."
     Shyrose blinked, astonished. "You _sing_, Kayle?" she asked, gaping.
"Whyinhell(tm)'d you never tell us that before?"
     "I don't, well, sing too well..."
     "Who cares about that? You know what this means, don't you?"
     "No, what?"
     "When Grant needs to charge up on sonics, I don't have to do it alone!"
     "How did your parents take it?" asked Dianna softly, diverting the
conversation back to its original topic.
     Kayle began to drift back and forth, as though pacing. "They were kind
of in denial at first. They thought it was a dream or a nightmare. After I
talked them around, they started getting to accept it. Except now they're
talking about taking me around to metaspecialist doctors to see if I can be
'cured'. They've pinned all their hopes on that in fact, and they're
talking like someone can just give me two aspirin and I'll have a body in
the morning."
     "Tom, you're welcome to stay here for as long as you like," offered
Dianna. Tom nodded his gleaming head, trying to signal his thanks with
gestures.
     "At least he doesn't eat mu-- that's the door." said Shyrose.
     "I'll get it," replied Dianna, turning to open the door yet again.
     "Hey guys, what's up?" asked Grant as he walked into the room.
     "Grant?" asked Dianna. "It went well?"
     "Well?" asked Grant, seeming far more gregarious than was his usual
wont. "Sure it went well! Couldn't have been better. Best talk me and the
folks've ever had."
     "Oh?" asked Shyrose, looking at him.
     "Sure! I said hi, I'm your son, they said..." Grant's facade shattered
and his voice dropped to a whisper. "You've got ten minutes to pack your
bags and get out... they said it was my fault, that they weren't going to
have a freak living under their roof..."
     "Oh, crap!" cried Shyrose angrily. "That sucks... that just sucks."
     Grant took a deep breath, restoring his calm face. "Yeah it does. And
I've worn out my welcome in the only place I can go... as _usual_..."
     "No you haven't," whispered Dianna. Grant turned to look at her with
some amazement. "Provided you help out, that is..."
    Grant met her gaze for a moment, then nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, that's fair
enough I guess. Sorry Di... I haven't been meaning to act like king of the
world, you know?"
     "I know."
     "So that just leaves Sabrina, doesn't it?" asked Kayle, looking around.
     "Yup," replied Shyrose. "And given the staggering amount of
coincidentally timed entrances we've had, I'd say she should be at the door
right about--"
     There came a knock at the door.
     "--now."
     Dianna smiled slightly and moved to the door, opening it. "Hello, Sab--"
     A polished-black shoe shot into the doorway, holding it open as a
large vacuum cleaner was shoved under Dianna's nose. "Pardon me, miss,"
said the owner of the cleaner. "but have you considered the benefits of
owning a really good vacuum cleaner?"
     Dianna drew herself up to full height - a rare thing - and glared at
the salesman with every dram of annoyance that she could muster through her
normally shy demeanour. The salesman blanched at the sight of her
destroyer's face looking intently at him, muttered a quick apology and
rushed for his car, dropping the vacuum at her step.
     "He was in a hurry," said Sabrina, walking up the steps as the
salesman fled. "Hey, how's everyone?"
     "Some good, some bad," replied Shyrose with a small shrug. "How'd your
meeting with the folks go?"
     Sabrina smiled. "Really well... they're not sure what happened to me,
but at least they're not freaking out. Which is all I could ask for, isn't
it?"
     "Um... yeah," said Shyrose, looking at the ground. "Yeah... that's
great, 'rina."
     Sabrina sat down and looked at her friends. "So..."
     "So... where do we go from here?" asked Kayle looking at Sabrina.
     "Pretty much," replied Sabrina, with a small shrug. "Things have
changed, and we have to change too."
     "How?" asked Grant, glancing up at Sabrina. "How the heck(sm) are we
supposed to change?"
     "Like we already haven't?" groused Shyrose, staring at her hand.
"Guys, I really hate to be the one to break this to all of you, but we're
just _not_ _human_ anymore."
     "Hey... hey," said Kayle, shaking his head, blurring his features in
the doing. "Our bodies changed, but who we are hasn't. Let's not start
calling ourselves inhuman until we're ready to start acting that way."
     "It was that old man," muttered Grant. "That bastard... he made us
like this. If it weren't for him..."
     "We might be dead?" asked Dianna.
     "Or we might be alive and normal!" interjected Shyrose.
     "Or goaltenders for the Ottawa Senators!" added Grant.
     All eyes looked to him.
     "I... thought it was what we were doing," said Grant, looking small.
     "We're speculating on one case, Grant, not making random
associations." sighed Sabrina.
     "Right, carry on."
     "The mood's broken," sighed Shyrose. "Look, either the man lied to us
or else he told the truth. We can't be more broad and unhelpful than that."
     "So why don't we go looking for the reason why?" asked Grant. "Kayle,
you mentioned looking for magical help back when this all started..."
     "But searching for answers doesn't pay the bills, people," replied
Shyrose. "Some of us've got them now and there's not a lot of money between
us."
     "And we're not exactly going to score well on the face-to-face
interview." replied Kayle with an ironic smile.
     "So what're we going to do, then?" asked Dianna, sighing in near-defeat.
     "I wish Task Force Aurora was still around," replied Sabrina. "They
were founded to help with problems just like this."
     "Yes... hold on," said Kayle. "The organisation's long gone, but that
guy... what's his name..."
     "Biff?" offered Grant.
     "Grant, could you wait until I give you a little more to work with?"
     "You guys are just way too patient."
     "The man who was sentenced for taking control of TFA..."
     "Arthur Doyle?" asked Dianna.
     "Yes," said Kayle. "He's still at the Beanstalk, isn't he? Maybe he'd
know someone who could help us."
     "How do we talk to him, though?" grumbled Grant. "It's not like he's
got a listed number, is it?"
     "No, he probably doesn't have a phone number," said Kayle, with a
small smile. "But it's time for our changes to help us out instead of
making life harder."
     "I don't get it..." said Shyrose, shaking her head.
     "I do," said Sabrina, grinning. "Kayle could get right into the
Beanstalk, couldn't he?"
     "I could," replied Kayle with a smile. "And no one could stop me."
     "Only problem is, how does he get there to get in?" asked Grant.
"Hell(tm), it's a long way from Victoria to Windsor and getting a plane
could be tough."
     "Besides," said Shyrose, "as soon as we got it we'd forget to feed and
water the thing and it would just mope around the house twirling its
propellers miserably at us and chew up the cushions."
     Grant tossed a pillow at the girl while Kayle shook his head. "No, I
can get there under my own steam."
     "I'll put the kettle on." replied Shyrose.
     Kayle's eyes, though difficult to see, very clearly suggested that
they were rolling. "Rose, you're a wonderful friend but don't ever quit
your day job. I'll fly there myself."
     "And boy will his arms be tired."
     "Rooooooose."
     "Sorry."
     "But won't it take you a long time?" asked Sabrina.
     "I don't think so," replied Kayle with a sly smile. "After all, I'm
all mind now and what's faster than thought?"
***
     The human mind operates under two kinds of fetters. The first is the
fact that far too many humans choose to fill their minds with obstacles to
clear thinking which are, in the common parlance, collectively known as
television programming. While the subject of endless cheap jokes and
defenestrations, this story will not stoop to dipping into this endless
reservoir of material for a cheap shot or two to pad the story to a few
more pages in length.
     Oh all right. Maybe juuuuuust one.
     The second kind of fetter to the speed of thought is the meat which
makes up the mind... grade A sirloin for those who regularly create,
philosophise and contemplate the unknowable; ground chuck for those who
mean to do all of those things but instead tune in yet another hour of 'I
Love Lucy'. Thought can only travel so quickly when transmitted through a
medium of matter, but when brought into its purest form, its speed is
unmeasurable.
     To put this another way, Kayle was cruisin'. Though he knew that he
could move more quickly if he wanted to, the young man decided to maintain
a speed of just 'heart stoppingly fast' instead of 'mind numblingly quick'
or 'New York cab driver during rush hour gridlock'. Terrain flashed by
under him as he moved towards Windsor, Ontario. Strangely, Kayle had no
trouble controlling his direction even though slamming into a building was
not something that he was particularly worried about.
     The Beanstalk was an impressive sight up close, and even though Kayle
had seen it from afar many times before, he still found himself feeling
somewhat inadequate while looking at the orbit-high structure.
     "Piece of cake," muttered Kayle, slipping into the skyhook's wall.
"Just find Doyle and convince him to help us. Nothing could go wrong."
     Naturally, upon Kayle's invoking of Murphy herself, the Beanstalk's
defences were pressed to act. Doyle, the structure's machine intelligence
and caretaker, recognised that there was an intruder in the area - albeit
one who might prove difficult to catch with automated stun weaponry or
electric traps. Thus, he was forced to release a trained being who operated
on a more subtle if more terrifying, level.
     "Maybe I could find a computer terminal..." muttered Kayle, drifting
down a deserted hallway. He stopped as he heard footsteps from around a
corner.
     "Hello?" he called out, drifting in that direction. "Who's there?"
     "Hello young man," said a cashmere sweatered man, stepping into the
dim light. He totted along an attache case and a white board. "How would
you like to earn some money? Heck(sm), how would you like to earn a lot of
money with almost no effort?"
     "I... er... what?" asked Kayle, confused. The man smiled reassuringly
and set up the white board.
     "Our program is designed to maximise your profits while minimising
your expenditures. Look here. We guarantee that if you just add three
friends to your list of contacts every ten minutes you'll break one million
dollars by the time you're, oh, we don't really need to go into numbers now
do we... what's your name sir?"
     "Kayle..." said Kayle, blinking reflexively. "List of contacts?"
     "Hello Kayle. I'm Jim and I'm very glad to meet you. You look like a
hard worker. You've had summer jobs before, haven't you?"
     "Yes... I've been a lifeguard..."
     "Good job. Really good job. You think about other people a lot I see.
How to save their lives and make them better. But what if you could make
their lives better in other ways? What if you could give them the kind of
financial security that you're one step closer to achieving yourself just
by listening to me today? What if you could make their homes into palaces
that rivalled the fabled Xanadu and let them drink sweet wine and eat
Icelandic honey while illegally purchased indentured servants massaged
their feet with warm oil and invented new ways to make them forget about
the misery and doldrums of the world outside?"
     "I... I'd have to think about it."
     "You have to think about it? What about those poor friends of yours
sitting in the cold without any servants to tend to their every whim? You'd
let them starve to death? You'd just leave them like that? Kayle, I know
you better than that. I'm a good judge of character, really I am, for
someone who met you two minutes ago and I know that you... Kayle... are
someone who would accept my business venture if ONLY to set your friends
FREE of their miserable day to day lives and usher them into times of
utmost happiness and prosperity! Am I right Kayle? Or did I just misjudge
you? You're not really a heartless bastard who'd selfishly stay a lifeguard
and save a few miserable dummies who went into the water because they
didn't know how to swim and should've met Charles Darwin and his friendly
little Filter of Natural Selection ages ago? What do you say, Kayle? Are
you a man? Or a mouse?"
     "I... suppose..."
     "Good! Good! Just sign here, here and here. That's two hundred dollars
up front young man and now we have a video series for you to watch."
     "What the heck(sm)?"
     The man smiled benevolently. "Times of plenty are ahead. Welcome to
the wonderful world of Spamway, son!"
***
[Continued In Part Three]