Fit for Life

[Kulindahr]

I have two chapters arguing over which is next. When the dust settles, I'll have to edit so the sequence fits; then one will get posted.

Soon....

 

[DonQuixote]

I see the assumption of 17 - best keep no sex there, then, not on this board.
I was reading and IMing a friend, so I may have missed a few of the finer points. Not a good thing to do, sorry.

 

[Kulindahr]

Concession​

Davis Davis sighed and looked to his right at Lucius Dominguez. He opened his mouth, then closed it again and shook his head. The state medical examiner twitched a brief smile. "T B S", she said.

"Tired Brain Syndrome", Lucius supplied for the police lieutenant. "So, look, doc -- we've covered everything three times or more. You've seen everything we have, from pics of the wreck to the autopsies. You know what we do."

Dark grey-green eyes met his for a moment before dropping to look at the HP laptop Alicia Swizer, state medical examiner, had perched on one knee as she sat cross-legged on a lab stool in the autopsy room where they'd settled after her examination of yet another of the bodies from this bizarre, and already notorious, incident; somehow the story of a wreck with people who'd died before they crashed had made the internet... and already generated a movie script purporting to tell the story.

"All right; let me summarize, then", she conceded. "One car, five dead -- three male, two female, ages nineteen through twenty-three. One van, eight dead -- five male, three female, ages sixteen through ttwenty-two with an outlier at thirty-five. Sidewlak, Four dead -- three male, one female, ages fourteen through sixteen. The van skidded out of control, slammed into the car, which slewed and then rolled to a stop on top of the four youngsters." She looked straight at Lucius. "And you, coroner, have put down in your report that all seventeen were dead before any trauma to their bodies."

"Blast it, doctor!" Davis stood suddenly, knocking over his own lab stool. "You've seen everything Lucius has. You did your own autopsy on three of them. Your results completely matched his. So what do you want from him?"

"Simple: revise the report."

"I will not lie!" retorted Dominguez.

"You don't have to. If you state that they died in the crash, you will be completely truthful."

"A lie by omission is still a lie."

Swizer closed her eyes a moment before responding. "Doctor, the state does not want a report out that implies some alien power can kill people as they merely sit in their cars. The public is not capable of receiving such news without causing all sorts of wild notions and possibly panic."

"You underestimate the public, doctor", Davis responded. "Sure, there will be stories of aliens sucking their lives out. But there will be people pointing out that they were about to die violently, and the aliens, if there were any, did them a favor by letting them avoid that. It will flare all over the internet, China will even let it in because it will have an angle to make us Americans look ridiculous. Paranoid people will devise conspiracy theories. But it will all flare, and die, except for some residual ranting that any subject attracts. People will give up trying to figure it out, and forget it.
"So let it be, before I start wondering if there's something illegal, and not just unethical, about asking a county coroner to forge a report. Their glares became a stare-down. Davis won.

"If you won't cooperate, you won't", Swizer conceded after a long, uncomfortable silence. "Doctor Dominguez, will you at least be careful in the language you use? What you wrote would be wonderful copy for the Inquirer or that new rag, 'What You Want to Know'."

Davis Davis decided to play conciliator. "Lush, think of it as applying a bedside manner: the patient is the public, and you don't want him upset."

Lucius Dominguez snorted. "The public needs more than a bedside manner. Doctor Swizer, I don't like writing in any manner that isn't straight-up and straightforward. But since Davis seems to think there's some merit in the notion, I'll go along -- for the public copy. I will also file a confidential report that is even more pointed than my original, and I will recommend further investigation."

"And I'll back him -- as will the Captain", Davis said. "He doesn't like the idea that something can kill seventeen people without leaving a trace except an accident they were going to die in, anyway."

Alicia Swizer nodded. "All right. I'll have to settle for that." And you'll get your investigation, she thought, more than you may want. At that, they shook, agreed to keep in touch if anything helpful came up, and aimed their minds and bodies at their various duties.

When Alicia got to her car, she sat a moment going through the photos, stopping at a very good-looking young man identified only as the seventeenth victim of the incident. What she knew, but Davis and Dominguez didn't, was that the boy's real father was the governor, now running for the U.S. Senate. Old college friends, she'd called the governor the moment she saw the victims' photos, and he'd been adamant about what she already figured: this can't get out. No, the governor didn't want anyone knowing he had an illegitimate son, not while he was running for the U.S. Senate. It just might be the thing to tip the race against him -- a sitting governor with a son by the wife of his first campaign manager, both of them married at the time.

Sad enough, she thought, that seventeen young people had died -- to her, at fifty-four, even the oldest was young. She got depressed reading of traffic deaths, anyway, but this one hit hard, very hard, this loss of an old friend's gay son.

She kissed the forehead of the image, thinking, Wherever you are now, I hope things are better for you. May you find a father who isn't ashamed of you.

 

[Kulindahr]

Okay, We're Dead​

"Sure we're okay, we're just dead". The response came from the guy Rigel had last seen being held by Rita.

"What's your name?" Rigel asked him.

"Tanner. What's yours?"

"I'm Rigel. You really think we're dead?"

"Of course we're dead. Out vehicles crashed, there was no way for us to get out, so our bodies are back there bleeding and mangled." Two of the girls heard this and collapsed to the ground in tears.

Ryan cut Rigel off. "Our bodies are here", he objected.

"Copies", Tanner replied. "Definitely copies."

"Why would they be copies?" countered Ryan.

"Because these are." Tanner held up a set of keys. "They're bad ones, too -- the metal's crappy." To prove his point, he snapped one of the keys with two fingers. What looked like an ordinary car key shattered, pieces falling to the grass. "And it isn't metal all the way through -- it's clay on the inside. We got copied from there to here, but not everything copied very well." He glanced around at the others. "Check your stuff -- see what I mean."

"My cell phone buttons don't work" was the first reponse. "It opens, it shows bars, but there's nothing,"

"What's it made of?" Ryan asked.

"Um... " the boy scratched at it. "Feels like plastic, but... underneath it's clay." He turned the phone and tugged at the battery compartment cover. It didn't open; it popped off and broke. Underneath was a dirty gray clay reproduction of two AA alkaline batteries. "Don't look like Energizers".

"What's your name?" asked Rigel.

"I'm Oran, Oran deLambert."

"Thanks, Oran. Everyone, when you say something, tell us your name -- we need to get to know each other." He pointed at the next person after Oran in the semicircle, moving clockwise. "How about your stuff?"

"I'm Vic. My iPod is crap" -- he demonstrated by holding it up and flicking pieces off -- "bit look:" -- and he held out a Gerber folding hunting knife, one of those with a frame that isn't solid, so it can't trap dirt and also weights less, and unfolded it, refolded it, tapped it on his boot, stabbed the ground and pulled it out -- "my knife's real."

Ryan tossed him a small piece of fallen oak branch. "Can it cut this?" Vic caught the piece of wood deftly and proceeded to shave off three strips. "Yep -- sharp, too", he added.

"I've got shuriken, and they're real too." All eyes went to a Hispanic guy standing between Lumina and Ocean. "My keys were clay, but these are real." To demonstrate, with a flick of his wrist he sent one slicing through the air to stick into the oak tree Anaph had been talking to. It made a very musical hum, and 'thunk'. "Me llamo Antonio."

"Weapons. I'm Chen. Weapons got duplicated. Useless stuff didn't." The speaker was clearly part Chinese, but not full. His dark skin testified that neither parent had been white, though.

"Everyone check all your stuff!" Ryan cried out excitedly. "See what counts as 'useful' and what doesn't!" What had been mild yet nervous interest rose to earnest interest, and pockets began emptying. It was enough to enable Devon to finally calm the two girls from the van, and he got them to join in.

Ten minutes later, Ryan had everyone sitting in a circle, each with two piles: near each one, his or her stuff that was fake-copied; an arm's length away, what had copied faithfully. One by one, they showed the rest what they'd found.

"Knives, shuriken, all real", Chen noted when Anaph set his last item down, completing the circle. "All the weapons we had are real."

"Also glasses, rings -- all jewelry", Ryan corrected himself, "are real. Fingernail clippers, a nail file, a miniature screwdriver set, three screws, a roach clip, and other stuff that's a tool of some kind."

Oran finished the summary. "But no cell phones, GPS, iPods, or anything else that's tech-ish."

"But my make-up kit is fine", a rose-wood colored sort of redhead, face streaked with tears, said. "I'm Crystal. I'm in drama at Lincoln, and I carry my make-up kit. It's all fine. Brushes, too. Isn't that 'tech-ish'?"

Tanner waved a hand for attention; Rigel nodded to him. "Yours was made with high-tech, but it isn't, really. There have been makeup kits for ages, like even the Egyptians had them. But that's not why it got copied right." He stopped, grinning slightly.

"Okay, tell up", Ryan told him. "What's your theory?"

"You don't see it?" Tanner shifted his position to sit cross-legged. "Cell phones don't work, prolly 'cause no cell towers, so they didn't get copied right. iPods don't work; probably no batteries available, so they didn't get copied. No cars, so keys didn't get copied. See it?" he asked hopefully.

"Go on", Rigel said.

"Anything that won't work here, didn't get copied", Tanner summarized. "Or if it won't be useful. So the stuff that got copied right, they're all things that will work here and be useful. We've got knives, lighters, matches, Ryan's field lens, things we'll need.
"That's what survived -- what we'll need."

"So why would I need shuriken?" Antonio had been sitting quietly, polishing his little weapons repeatedly; now he stopped, flipped on up into the air and caught it on the way down between his palms with a smack, and held it out for everyone to ponder.

"For when we get hungry." It was the first thing the smallest member of the van group, a bronze-haired girl not even five feet tall, had said. "There's no stores. You have to hunt for us." Antonio turned away from the intense gaze she fixed on him. "And I'm hungry."

"Ocean said your name is Breeze, right?" asked Devon. The girl nodded. "That's a good point -- here we are like on a camping trip, with no gear. We need to plan, Rigel." All eyes swung back to their de facto leader, or at least chairman.

"Could someone explain why that means we're dead?" Lumina called out. "I mean, we aren't all hurt and bloody and stuff."

"You mean, like we weren't really in an accident?" Tanner responded. "I know. Well, if they could just move us from home to wherever 'here' is, all our stuff would have just moved along, too. But stuff got copied, and some of it badly. The badly part means that what we won't need, didn't get much attention. We need our bodies, so they got those right. So our original bodies are back home, broken and dead. They just moved us, and copied the rest."

"They called our spirits, and built bodies back around those", Anaph offered, with delight and wonder in his tone.

"Who's 'they'?" demanded Ocean. "And how do you know there is a 'they'?"

"Selectivity implies intelligence", Chen replied. "No mere accident could distinguish between our things as has been done."

"It could just be that those things don't work here", Ryan argued, playing devil's advocate.

"How would any natural force or something 'know' what a car key is, and that it would not 'work', while 'knowing' that a screwdriver that is also just a stick of metal was of value?" Chen countered.

"Okay", Ryan agreed with a grin. "And besides -- any change in natural law sufficient that electrical devices wouldn't work at all would be sufficient that we would be dead anyway. So, yeah -- it wasn't a 'that', it was a 'they'."

"I get it", Oran chimed in. "Our stuff is copies, which means we're copies. If we're copies, our bodies -- um, original bodies -- are still back home, in the wreck. See?" he asked Lumina.

She frowned, seeming to puzzle through it. "Okay, we're dead", she concluded finally.

And then, "My mom is going to be so pissed."

 

[DonQuixote]

Kuli,
You are crafting a very intriguing tale. An interesting perspective on "death", if it is as they presume.

A keen imagination and good writing skills combine for an interesting read.

Thanks for continuing to share your talents with us.

 

[Kulindahr]

What, no comment on the last part of Concession (two chapters up)?

I've almost got another polished -- hit a hot streak today. I churn out material that way, but often it really needs polishing.

 

[Kulindahr]

Discoveries​

Rigel sighed. He didn't think he was cut out for building a wall out of half-rotten branches and chunks of sod. Lumina was right, though; the only way they were going to have shelter was to make it, and the only things they had to use were in this cluster of oak trees, where one fallen giant provided a good beginning. But that 'wall' faced wrong to shield them from the wind -- more of a breeze, so far, though Ryan and Rita agreed that evening could bring stronger force. So they were putting another wall where one great branch had crashed into the ground and another hung above it, providing a framework to build on. Others were doing well, but the pieces Rigel put in place seemed rebellious; it was like every other time he turned his back, one or another part fell. What he needed was an excuse to do something else, like Anaph had: the kid was good at plants; he'd found three different things they could eat so far Antonio was turning a tree that their fallen one had fallen against into a lookout; along with his shuriken, he had a wicked-looking knife with a 9-inch blade that worked tolerably well as a machete, which he was using to trim branches and carve handholds to make a way up as high as he could. Ocean and Chen were scouting close by in search of water -- he'd heard them talking about having to dig a "seep", whatever that was, or fashion condensation traps somehow. It turned out that Oran was an Eagle Scout, with survival training -- and practice! -- in Pioneering, which Rigel guessed was some kind of advanced scouting; so he was working on getting them fire. Rigel, though, with everyone else lacking special skills or equipment, though, was doing his best to make a wall. He reached for his fallen chunk of sod.

"Rigel?" Ryan dropped to his knees to Rigel's right, socking a chunk of half-rotten branch in along the bottom of Rigel's wall section. "Smack your sod on top." He dropped back on his heels and looked at his friend's work. "You're trying to make it too vertical."

"You came over to criticize?" inquired Rigel with a wry grin.

"No, to help -- and to talk. No dodging this time: what was that about with... that kid?"

Rigel regarded his dirty hands, wondering if he even knew. He'd never been dishonest with Ryan, so he decided that was a good place to start. "I'm not really sure", he began. "I went to bring him back to the rest of us, but when I got there....." The memory was sharp: a kid talking to a tree, Rigel's worry they had a basket case on their hands -- a worry that hadn't gone away even now.

"He was talking to the oak tree. His body was straight and still, but his face -- well, he talked with his face and his hands, not just his voice. The quick, jerky way he moved made me think of Paul -- remember him?"

"Yeah", Ryan answered. "The guy who tried every drug in the book, and tried inventing new ones. It killed him, too."

Rigel shuddered at the memory: it had been Paul's senior year in high school, and he'd made it to the state track meet in spite of all the drugs, because he'd never been caught. It was the 'mile' relay, four 400-meter legs, and Paul was anchor. Rick Geiger had been five meters back from the lead when he slapped the baton into Paul's waiting hand, a perfect handoff, and Paul had exploded down the track like he'd just discovered it. On the back stretch, he ground his way past the leader, then pulled away. On the corner, it became clear that the former leader had burned up too much trying to stay in front; Paul's lead when he reached the final straight was nearly ten meters.

With two meters to go, Paul had raised his hands in victory, grinning enough for any three people, and he practically leapt over the finish line, grabbing the ribbon and wrapping it around his shoulders. After twenty meters of 'coasting', he'd slowed and looped back to check with the official scorer -- a formality, really. Then he'd seen Lisa, who'd promised him herself if he won, and sprinted toward her....

It all came down to the drugs, the doctors had said: he'd done too many different things, many of them with bad effects on his heart. He'd just run harder than he'd ever run before -- a new state record for a leg of that relay, even. He was cooling down, and then kicked back into high gear, and his heart just quit. He'd gotten a surprised look on his face, Lisa had said, and just tumbled forward. The board of review had been kind; the doctors said that the drugs in his system weren't anything that would help his performance; if anything, they would have done the opposite, so the board let the victory stand. Paul got buried in his track uniform, all his medals and ribbons stuck to the inside of the coffin, and the medal for that race around his neck.

And then some group had shown up at the funeral to cheer Paul's burial -- because he'd been gay. They'd shown up at the awards assembly where Paul's memory was going to be honored by the other three relay members, but the wrestling team had taken care of that, so there was no disturbance.

"Yeah", he said to Ryan, "that guy. Anaph was moving like he used to sometimes. And remember the assholes at his funeral? Looked like they thought they were God's own gift to the world, and we should all just thank them and kiss their feet for telling us Paul was an abomination and the heart attack was God's judgment?" Ryan nodded, so Rigel went on. "When he turned and looked at me, he looked like them -- crazy, maybe possessed or something. What he said to me...." Rigel shook his head, then suddenly rolled off his knees to sit leaning against his recently improved wall.

"He told me that the tree said I'm sturdy, like a spruce, and would provide shelter in storms -- ha! I can't even build a wall right!" The two friends shared a grin. "That's when he grabbed my hand and dropped to his knees,and then he says, 'I am Anaph, the branch, and I am yours'." He felt lust stir again, and shook it off. "Rye, I swear he was going to blow me, and I wanted him to! It was crazy -- I wanted him more than I wanted my first girl!" Rigel stopped, his jaw clamped shut; he stared into the distance.

After a few seconds of silence, Ryan asked softly, "What stopped it?"

Rigel jumped up and walked off a few paces. Ryan went to him and put a hand on his shoulder, and waited.

"Did I ever tell you about my buddy Jake?" whispered Rigel.

"Your best friend -- before me? But he died, right?"

"I guess I didn't tell you." Rigel turned to face his friend. Ryan felt him trembling, and grabbed his other shoulder. After a deep breath, Rigel started again. "He didn't just die -- he hanged himself. I found him. He was so cold...." Rigel squeezed his eyes tight against tears. "He had a baby sitter. They got him through the church, the Seventh-Day Adventists. When he was little, it was all fun. The guy let Jake do anything, and then helped clean it up or fix things. One day they got really, really dirty, so the guy threw their clothes in the washer and they took a shower together. Jake already had crotch hair, and it turned the guy on." He looked his best friend right in the eye. "He molested him, Rye. Not just then, but a bunch. Jake said some of it felt good and some of it hurt, but none of it was fun, and he wanted it to stop. He told his dad, he told my dad, he told the preacher, but no one believed him; the baby sitter was too convincing. So one day, when he found out that his folks were leaving for a week and the guy would be staying with him, he waited until his parents were gone, and he went over to my house but I wasn't there, so he went over to my aunt's house looking for me. When I wasn't there, either, he couldn't take it, and he went out to the apple tree and hanged himself." Rigel looked at his feet for a moment, then back up.

"That memory came in, just filled my mind, when Anaph touched my leg. I remembered Jake, how he died, why he died. I remembered I wasn't there for him. And I knew Anaph is only seventeen. I wanted to stop, but my body was on auto-pilot." Rigel took a deep breath before continuing. "But him on one knee like that reminded me of the school play in tenth grade -- I can't even remember its name, but I remembered, well, I kind of remembered the oath the knights took when they pledged themselves to the king. So I did the king part the best I could remember, and...."

Again he broke away, but after a moment turned back and continued, softly. "I was running out of words, but all of a sudden I wasn't. They weren't any words I remembered, they were all new. I asked him to serve 'with all the life is that in you, to serve mine with yours, for the sake of life, now until rebirth'. Ryan, I didn't think of those words: they came to me."

What Ryan wanted to do was ask, "Who from?", but he knew Rigel was asking himself the same thing, and he also was sure that they both knew the best answer: whoever had snatched their souls from certain death in Monument Circle and plopped them into copy bodies here... wherever here was.

What he said instead was, "And you felt used."

Rigel shook his head. "No, not really used, just... like a pawn, I guess, put here to play a part, and when I needed something, the prompter off-stage fed me lines."

"You mixed your metaphors."

"Yeah, well, I still feel pretty mixed, and it wasn't metaphorical."

"Now you're mixing your tenses. You're stressed, bud."

Rigel burst out laughing. "I needed that! 'Stressed', he tells me. Heck, I died in a car crash I didn't experience, I'm here with a bunch of other people who did, too, I have a kid getting religious experiences and swearing loyalty to me, I'm trying to build a wall for a shelter tonight with just dirt and rotten wood, I'm hungry and can't do anything about it, I'm thirstier than that -- why would I be stressed?" The two grinned at each other like a pair of maniacs.

"Let's get a log", Ryan said after a half minute of face-muscle stretching. So they did that, and worked on the wall for a while.

"You could have let him, you know", Ryan said quietly when they'd topped the section with a decaying branch. "We're dead, this is a different world."

The thought had occurred to Rigel, too, and he had his answer. "No. It's a different world, but we need to stick with what's familiar. We follow the rules we know, until we get settled somewhere and have the luxury to sit around and debate changing them. There may be nothing immoral, really, about a guy that's twenty-two and one who's seventeen having sex, but back home that's the rule, and for now it's the rule here, too." Then he got a mischievous grin. "Besides, I don't think I could have come with an audience."

Ryan laughed at that. "But you're actually serious about the rules, aren't you? That's why your mind coughed up the memories -- it's what you believe, deep down."

"Yeah, it is. Even though I think it's a dumb rule -- any guy who's seventeen can make up his own mind about sex. But it's the rule we've got for now."

Ryan nodded. "Agreed. I'll stand with you on that." He wouldn't have thought of that on his own, but Rigel was right: things were going to be hard enough without throwing their common background to the wind, too.

They meant to go back to work, but it wasn't to be: Anaph was waiting to show him some kind of fern they could eat tips from, and after him was Oran. Rigel wasn't thrilled by the flavor of the fern, but he praised Anaph anyway, and told him to get someone else to help gather whatever they could, before the sun started getting too low. "Sleeping in a strange place is bad", he told his -- what? follower? -- "but sleeping in a strange place with an empty stomach is wretched."

Then it was Oran. "What's up, fire-master?" Ryan quipped.

"Look at your money", Oran said without preamble. "The coins". Ryan and Rigel reached into their pockets and pulled out their loose change.

"Yeah? It's money -- quarters, nickels, dimes, pennies", Ryan observed. "So?"

Oran sighed. "Look close."

Rigel was the one who got it. "Oh. My. Fucking. Hell." He whistled and looked at Oran. "No layers."

Ryan whistled in turn. "They're real silver, all the way through!"

"The quarters and dimes, yeah", Oran agreed. "And the pennies are real copper, so I guess the nickels are real nickel. But do you guys have any of those new dollars, with the Indian chick on them?" Both shook their heads no. Oran pulled reached into his left pocket and brought it out. "I think they're kool, so I always have some. This morning I stopped by the C-U and got a new roll, so I have a bunch. And look." He opened his hand to show a shiny pile of George Washington U.S. dollars. "Take one."

"It's heavy", Ryan observed.

"And soft." Rigel had bitten his. "You're not saying they're pure gold?"

"Why not?" Oran asked.

Rigel had seen Antonio jogging their way, and now waved him over. "Join us. What's up?"

"You found out about the coins, huh? You think those dollars are real gold?" Antonio asked, standing between Rigel and Oran.

"We were just wondering that", Rigel told him. "But why'd you want me?

Antonio looked around before answering. "We're not alone here. I don't know if it's someone or something, but we're being watched. I thought I saw something on our hike over here from where we, um, landed, so I've kept an eye out. Now I'm sure -- I saw movement, from up in the tree."

Ryan frowned. "Best guess?"

His grimace showing his uncertainty, Antonio replied, "Someone -- people. They're too clumsy in hiding."

"Animals in their own habitat, who stalk other creatures, wouldn't be seen by amateurs like us, huh?" Ryan asked. Anotio nodded. "So, do we alert everyone?" They all looked at Rigel.

"Chen and Ocean are still out there", Antonio pointed out.

"Think you can find them?" Rigel asked him.

Antonio shook his head. "On foot -- no. But I can go higher in the tree -- maybe I can see them."

Rigel didn't like it, but there weren't any options. Back home he could have hopped on his Honda and zipped across the grass -- though back home he didn't know of any place where the grass just kept going like this. It was unnerving. "Take something bright with you, to wave if you see them. Maybe they'll get the idea to hurry."

"If I see them, and get their attention, I'll go join them." Antonio tossed a shuriken pointedly, then vanished it back into wherever he'd plucked it.

"Good. And thanks." Rigel had a sudden thought. "Hey -- you have some gold dollars, too?"

Antonio grinned. "Yep -- seven of 'em." He turned and jogged back to climb the lookout tree.

 

[Kulindahr]

Bargains​

She knew she wasn't going to enjoy it, but Alicia Swizer dialed anyway. She didn't have the governor's private number just because she was a friend; she also worked for him, and he expected to be kept up to date.

She was lucky; he answered on the third ring. "Sorry, I gave at the office", the governor's voice intoned, then, "Hi, Alicia. I presume you're not just calling to chat?"

Indirect as always, she thought. "John, he didn't go for it. He brought a police lieutenant with him, a special duty man--"

"Davis Davis? He's a good man."

"Well, he was helpful, a bit -- thanks to him, the coroner will tone down his language, but he plans to file a scorching confidential version. I told him that would be fine, but to be very careful in the official, public version. I think you can keep this under wraps."

"We'd better keep it under wraps! You keep on that doctor. If any of it gets out, I could be ruined."

Only with your rabid core, she wanted to say. "You don't have any feelings for your son in this, do you?" she challenged.

"I have relief! And annoyance -- Austin was headed for Hell anyway, nothing was going to change his mind, so the only bad thing about him dying now was it's bloody inconvenient!"

"No grief -- you don't wish he was still alive." Why did she bother? Whatever John Templeton had once been, he was now a calculating, conscience-less machine. He didn't care that his son had died without pain, before the Lexus rolled on him, he was just upset that it had happened while he was campaigning.

"He was an abomination! He wasn't fit for life! None of them are!"

"Why don't you say that in your next campaign speech, John? Engage in some of that honesty you always praise so highly." She was pushing it, but she was angry, not just at a governor who put votes over family, but at an old friend who'd somewhere along the line stopped thinking and started running programs instead.

There was silence for at least a dozen heartbeats before the governor spoke again. "Don't overestimate your value, Alicia."

"You can have my resignation any time." They did this bit every four to six months.

There silence wasn't quite as long. "All right, I need you, Florence Nightingale. But don't presume too much on an old friendship."

She was tired of that line -- what was it, four times now, and his term not half up? Alicia decided to push back. "John, that works both ways. Don't you presume I will keep working for a sour, rigid hypocrite out of old friendship, if he gets much worse. Whatever you believe about where he is now, Austin was your son, what your favorite book calls 'the fruit of your loins', and only the inhuman could see the violent passing of their own and not grieve. If you're really as cold as you seem, you don't belong in the U.S. Senate."

First came a deep sigh. "Alicia, that's why I need you -- I lose my humanity in this job. Hell, we all do, all elected officials! We have to sell our souls to get nominated, and re-mortgage them to get elected, and then everyone who bought a piece wants to attach a string."

He didn't, she realized, claim any feelings, still.

"John, take a vacation. Go on a retreat. See Father Stavropoulos. Get back in touch with yourself." She knew it was pointless, but....

Alicia...." The voice trailed into silence that lasted a full minute. "Maybe I will. Look -- you go see what you can do to help that doctor get his report acceptable, and I'll take that little retreat. Deal?"

Trapped, she thought. But if it might do him some good... "All right. But I'll be in touch with Father Staff." Use of their common mentor's nickname, a play on both the beginning of his surname and his given Greek name, Rabdos, came with purpose: she hoped it would remind the governor of a time when they both had been far less certain of their infallibility, hoped that would help him remember the need to actually think.

"Father Staff -- that was years ago, wasn't it? I bet he still runs a klick every morning."

"See him, John. Warm up your soul again."

"All right, I will. But I'm not changing my mind about these homosexuals."

"More's the pity. God made them, too, you know."

"But they chose to be that way."

"If they did, not very many of them remember such a choice. John, I'm behind on reports after this little effort. I'll call again when there's something new." And if you can't cry for you own son then, you may learn that bigotry can kill an old friendship, she lectured silently after she'd hung up. Who's more 'fit for life', to use your words -- a son in need of love, or the father who won't give it?

 

[Kyanimal]

WOWF!!! Clicked on the link in your "Post Whorehouse" thread. "Fell" into this story! Haven't read anything like it since Stephen King's "The Dark Tower" series!

I'm LIKING this, Kuli!! You've warped my brain! It's feeling Good! I want MORE!!



And then you submitted "Bargains" while I was reading and replying!

I'm truly digging that last paragraph!

Onward, my Cap'n!

Keep smilin'!!
Chaz

 

[DonQuixote]

The "Next Post" feature and I seem to be leap-frogging a bit. I missed it when I clicked on it. Must have skimmed as I was getting ready to log off at one point, sorry.

It is definitely an "Artie Johnson" of Laugh-in fame moment - "Verrry Interesting". Alien life forms killing them - or beaming them up - or, the more spiritually based members of the reading audience might ascribe it to a Higher Power taking an active hand in saving the lives, or at least the pain and suffering of a horrific death, of seventeen people whose time was not yet supposed to have come.

I won't push that on you, but I may leave a liberal interpretation of Higher Power on the table for a bit.

Wow! You got prolific this weekend. I'm not thru Bargains, and I have to get gone to work.

All the coins are now pre-1964 in their minting characteristics - no sandwich coins, pure silver, copper, nickel. And, Gold Dollars - that's WAY before 1964 - we've been off the Gold Standard since the depression.

Who are the people watching them from the distance? Friend or Foe? People in a similar situation of recently departed undead and no knowing what to do?

Here's hoping my tired arse mind remembers to back up and read the rest of what you've posted before continuing when I get a chance to come back and finish.

Thanks for you efforts - this is definitely an interesting saga.

 

[Kulindahr]

WOWF!!! Clicked on the link in your "Post Whorehouse" thread. "Fell" into this story! Haven't read anything like it since Stephen King's "The Dark Tower" series!

I'm being compared to Stephen King!!

I'm LIKING this, Kuli!! You've warped my brain! It's feeling Good! I want MORE!!

You mean I warped your mind more -- it's been warped for a long time.

And then you submitted "Bargains" while I was reading and replying!

"Bargains" has been banging around in my skull since the end of "Concession". I knew that Alicia Swizer didn't share her old friend's views, and needed to get that out.

I'm truly digging that last paragraph!

Tanks -- it's got a bunch of me in it.

Onward, my Cap'n!

Keep smilin'!!
Chaz

[onward]

{initiating}​

 

[Kulindahr]

It is definitely an "Artie Johnson" of Laugh-in fame moment - "Verrry Interesting". Alien life forms killing them - or beaming them up - or, the more spiritually based members of the reading audience might ascribe it to a Higher Power taking an active hand in saving the lives, or at least the pain and suffering of a horrific death, of seventeen people whose time was not yet supposed to have come.

Ooh, speculation! I love it!

Wow! You got prolific this weekend. I'm not thru Bargains, and I have to get gone to work.

It happens. I've hit fifty pages in a day when the Muse strikes.

All the coins are now pre-1964 in their minting characteristics - no sandwich coins, pure silver, copper, nickel. And, Gold Dollars - that's WAY before 1964 - we've been off the Gold Standard since the depression.

Ah, but their coins still look exactly like what they had in their pockets!

Who are the people watching them from the distance? Friend or Foe? People in a similar situation of recently departed undead and no knowing what to do?

We'll get there.
Actually there's enough information provided for a good solid guess -- it's just not all in one place.

Here's hoping my tired arse mind remembers to back up and read the rest of what you've posted before continuing when I get a chance to come back and finish.

Thanks for you efforts - this is definitely an interesting saga.

Is it 'gay enough' for this forum?

 

[DonQuixote]

I just finished Bargains - a very nice installment, and a piece of mind sharing that I wish I could do in other areas on occasion.

I like her style. I hope he finds his missing humanity, and has and enema that cleans all the way up to between his ears.
It's unfortunate that there are people of that narrow, horse-blindered mindset.

As to the last question you posted - I may be the wrong person to ask - I have a wide tolerance/appreciation in literary matters. I think you're getting there - it's definitely got a bit of a crusade tone coming through.

I knew the coins were the "same", just different. I was just thinking back for relative points of reference. I was looking at a Morgan Silver Dollar over the weekend - a bit heftier than today's version of "silver" dollars - and one of the reasons they lost popularity - too damned heavy.

Thanks for the continued installments, and the active banter.

I'm definitely looking forward to the continuing saga.

Glad Kyanimal has joined us.

 

[Kulindahr]

I just finished Bargains - a very nice installment, and a piece of mind sharing that I wish I could do in other areas on occasion.

That's me talking, through her.

I like her style. I hope he finds his missing humanity, and has and enema that cleans all the way up to between his ears.
It's unfortunate that there are people of that narrow, horse-blindered mindset.

He's also me, though exaggerated. However much I had been convinced that sex was of the devil, and gay sex even worse, the pounding my seventh-grade civics teacher gave us on "all men are created equal, and are endowed by their Creator with certain inalienable rights" remained a solid grounding for me, such that I couldn't conceive of one person being worth less than another.

He's "flavored" by some people I knew in college, including perhaps the strangest couple I've ever met: she a high-church Lutheran feminist activist, he a Congregationalist right-wing dominionist. Both were of the opinion that God was too easy on gays, and that the Bible should have said "Thou shalt not suffer a homosexual to live".

As to the last question you posted - I may be the wrong person to ask - I have a wide tolerance/appreciation in literary matters. I think you're getting there - it's definitely got a bit of a crusade tone coming through.

LOL

I had a different title in mind, one that had the word "Crusade" in it!
I threw it out as one that gave too much away. I like titles that tease, and then I like to tease with the titles (quick: in how many contexts has the title appeared in the text so far?).

I knew the coins were the "same", just different. I was just thinking back for relative points of reference. I was looking at a Morgan Silver Dollar over the weekend - a bit heftier than today's version of "silver" dollars - and one of the reasons they lost popularity - too damned heavy.

I like heavy money -- it feels like money!

I'm definitely looking forward to the continuing saga.

I've got some other stuff clamoring to get written, so no worries yet. My problem is that what's clamoring is major-plot stuff, and I still haven't finished the groundwork!

Glad Kyanimal has joined us.

Ky is always fun.


A question: do you guys think this is sci-fi enough to interest anyone in the tech forum?

 

[DonQuixote]

Maybe - but tech forum is more a Hot topics than a story thread, isn't it?

You could double post at Nifty.org, too - they have a lot of categories.

Some started there, moved here, others who are here, like HR, have also posted there.

 

[Kulindahr]

Author's confession: I have a problem.

Back at the start I had a WordPad file I used for listing the characters and important things to remember about them. Then my computer had a power failure, and since I hadn't saved the file, I lost it all.

So I went back and reconstructed it from the chapters -- or so I thought. It turns out that I've got fourteen characters here, not just thirteen.

For fun... while I wrestle with how to deal with this, let's see if any of you can find the extra. Hint: the person is found only in one chapter.

<tearing-out-hair emoticon>

 

[Kulindahr]

Maybe - but tech forum is more a Hot topics than a story thread, isn't it?

I was thinking in terms of posting in there and inviting people to read.....

 

[Kulindahr]

Big Man​

The fire Oran had started was the only thing that kept their spirits up once the sun went down. Anaph’s best efforts had only gotten them a handful of food for the evening; another scant handful apiece was set aside for morning. Antonio had demonstrated he could hunt with his shuriken by killing some creature that looked like a cross between a ferret and an opossum when Devon had disturbed it while heaping up grasses for an attempt at beds, so there were hopes of meat for the future, but hopes didn’t help with hunger. Ocean and Chen had discovered a plant that caught water naturally; there weren’t any in their grove, but one nearby with a tangle of fallen trees provided enough that each person at least got a mouthful. For more, the two agreed they needed to travel north by northwest; they were certain there were streams that way, though their reasons seemed weak and confused to Rigel.

Antonio hadn’t seen any further sign of who- or whatever was watching and following. To be on the safe side, Rigel decreed that two people would be standing watch at all times, with staggered shifts through the night. Antonio claimed he could sleep on a big branch in the ‘watch tree’, where he’d be able to threaten any intruders from above. It wasn’t much, but it was what they had.

After the meager dinner, some went off to try to sleep. Around the fire, the discussion turned to the discovery about the coins. Rigel had asked Oran and Antonio to keep quiet about their gold dollars; they weren’t the only ones with any, though: Devon had one, and Tanner had three.

“So I’m rich”, Tanner had said. “Awesome.” Breeze had argued that all their stuff should belong to the group, and off it had gone, back and forth.

Finally Ryan decided he’d had enough. “Look – first, we don’t know we’ll even need money–“

Tanner laughed, and got shushed by Crystal. “Okay, I’ll keep it down!” He feigned ducking from her. “Ryan, if we weren’t going to need it, the coins wouldn’t have changed. They probably would have been crud, like the car keys. They aren’t; ergo, we need them.”

“Point conceded”, Ryan responded. “But we aren’t faced with the problem yet. And there’s an easy solution, too: exile. Anyone who won’t pull with the group, leaves the group.”

Crystal objected. “How would they survive?”

“That’s the point”, Tanner said slowly. “The argument is that we need each other, and that means everything. If there’s money, we share it.”

“Like Anaph and that funny cape thing – he let the girls sleep on it to keep from the bugs”, Ocean noted. “That way they can actually get to sleep.”

“That’s one weird dude”, Crystal declared. “He talks to the plants.”

“If they tell him where to get more groceries, let him.” Chen patted his tummy. “That was hardly an appetizer.” No one had anything funny to say; they were all suffering from rumbling stomachs.

“In the morning I’ll tell everyone the policy”, Rigel decided. “We have to move, and we all have to be together in things when we do.”

“North by northwest?” inquired Ryan.

Rigel shrugged. “What else? Our water team is certain that’s where we’ll find water, so that’s the way we go. No one else has any better ideas.”

“Every direction looks the same to me”, Tanner agreed. Nods came from all around. They sat silently for a time, staring at the flames.

“I’m for bed, then”, Chen announced quietly. “Ryan, wake me for third watch?”

“You got it. Later.”

“Later.”

Ocean went next, taking Breeze with her. Rigel, Ryan, Tanner, and Crystal remained. After a while, Crystal slid over next to Ryan and leaned on him. Rigel watched, expecting he was going to have to make a certain announcement earlier than he’d planned. Sure enough, the girl’s hand began rubbing his friend’s abs, then moved to his thigh. When a finger wandered across his crotch, Ryan took hold of her arm and pulled it to him, and looked pointedly at Rigel.

Rigel sighed. “Crystal, how old are you?” he asked.

“Seventeen. So? I’m old enough to fuck, and I want to. You all can.”

“No”. Rigel shook his head firmly. “There are really good reasons for sticking with the rules from home, until we make a new one – then we can talk about changing them. But until then, under-eighteen means no sex with over-eighteen.”

“That’s a stupid rule!” She tried to free her arm from Ryan, but he didn’t budge.

“Yes, it is”, Rigel agreed. “In a truly civilized world, there would be classes and some kind of test, and if you understood the business and showed you could make your own decisions, you’d get a certificate or something and you’d be able to do what you wanted.”

“Let’s do that now!”

Ryan chuckled and used his grip on her arm to pull and twirl her to between his legs, where he pulled her back against him. “Girl, stress and danger can make people horny. But it isn’t what you really need. How about we just spoon, and I’ll hold you?”

“Well... okay.”

“No tricks”, Rigel warned her. “Ryan isn’t setting up to slip around the rules.”

“Definitely”, Ryan agreed. “Just being together.” Crystal didn’t look happy.

Rigel decided to try explaining. “Crystal, a lot of rules and laws aren’t fair. But we have rules to hold things together. And this one will protect you – look around; you girls are outnumbered. That means guys could end up fighting over you, which means you could get hurt. That’s not going to happen, because we’re keeping the rule.”

“Who made you our leader?” she demanded.

“We all did”, Ryan told her. “I’ve been watching all day, and every single one of us, when there’s a problem, has gone to Rigel. Antonio, Chen, and Oran looked at him as being the leader right from the start. Anaph made it very formal. I’ll follow Rigel anyway; we’re best buds. But none of you from the van had any reason to take him as your leader – yet you did anyway.
“I don’t know why that is, because Rigel’s never been a natural leader. He usually ends up helping the leaders, but I’ve never seen people turn to him like this. Maybe in this situation we all see something in him that our conscious minds can’t figure out. Maybe the situation changed him somehow and now he’s a leader and we can just tell that.
“But none of that matters. What matters is we’ve all voted for him by our actions. We’ve made him the leader. Arguing that could really screw up the group, because we really do all have to pull together. And I say that anyone who can’t go with that can leave.”

Rigel saw Crystal go stiff. “That’s not a threat, Crystal. Look – how long till your birthday?”

“Four months.”

“Okay – in four months, you can pick any guy in the group for your birthday. If anyone says no, I’ll be yours.”

“Or me”, Ryan offered, though his eyes were on Rigel.

“You’ll order them to fuck me?!”

Rigel snorted. “I won’t order anyone to do anything. But I’ll say that since you’re just turning eighteen, we should all give you the gifts you want, if we can.”

Crystal giggled. “I could have everyone.” She snuggled into Ryan’s embrace. “All the guys will fuck Crystal.” The thought seemed to make her happy.

“Well, I’m outa here”, Tanner said. “Crystal, I’ll be your birthday present if you want. Night, all.”

“Later”, Rigel called softly.

“I think we’re outa here, too, Rye”, Ryan said, standing and drawing Crystal with him. See you next watch.”

“Quiet dreams”, Rigel wished them. When they’d disappeared into the dark, he looked up and tried to memorize the positions of the stars, so he could estimate when his watch was over. A tap on his shoulder broke his reverie – Antonio stood looking down at him.

“Not our stars, are they, big man?” he asked.

“I never really learned our stars”, Rigel admitted. “But I don’t see anything familiar.”

“Nothing is. No Orion, no Big Bear, nothing. But there’s a north star – c’mon, I’ll show you.” So Rigel followed, out of the grove into the grass. “Up there” – Antonio turned him to aim him – “that really bright blue one with the fuzzy red companion.”

It was bright blue, a brighter and bluer star than Rigel had ever seen – easy to find, not like the dim little thing back home, he thought. “Nice – I can find that no problem. How do you know that’s north?”

“All the other stars turn around it; that means it’s right above the north pole”, Antonio explained. Hey, I thought you college guys knew this stuff.”

“I never took astronomy. That makes sense, though. How long have you been watching?”

“Since it first appeared. It was the second one out – I think the first one is another planet, a really bright one. This one’s been right between the same leaves since I saw it a couple of hours ago. It isn’t moving.”

They’d watched for ten or fifteen minutes when Rigel realized something. “There’s no moon.”

“Might not be up yet, or might be dark tonight”, Antonio guessed.

“It’d be weird not having a moon.” He searched the sky, but found no trace of anything but stars. “Antonio?”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t tell anyone about the sky yet.”

“No problem, big man.”

“Why ‘big man’?”

“You’re the boss, the head guy – the big man.”

Rigel said nothing for a minute. “I guess I am”, he conceded finally. “I guess I am.”

 

[DonQuixote]

Kuli,
First, as I wrote the note about Tech, I almost included that thought, too.

On to the story - you continue to do a nice job developing it.
Our baby "bunny" (a la Hugh Hefner!) definitely has her emotions and hormones on super high.

I dont' have enough time to scan through the story and gather up all of the characters right now - almost time to head back to work from lunch.

I am enjoying our Robinson Crusoe (of the dead?) "family" saga.

Thanks for investing the time in it that you have to enterain us.

 

[Kulindahr]

This next one doesn't end where I meant it to, but when I got to where it is now, I just had to quit with that line.

Don't peek ahead; wait till you get there, and I think you'll agree.