Lucy's parents were frantic. Ever since Danielle had run home, sobbing, and told them that the kids had been carried off by the consumerists, they had been worried. They had heard nothing for two weeks. McTavish had sent out spies, and surveillance tapes, but hadn't been able to discover anything. Then three days ago, he'd gotten a report that the president and vice president were very agitated about something, and that several of their troops had gone suddenly missing. Lucy's dad suspected that the kids had done something to throw a monkey wrench into the works, and were now being hunted. While this gave a sign that they were still alive, it upset them still, because it also meant they were in a heap of trouble.
Ever since Matt had disappeared, his dad had sobered up, and appeared to realize that he really did love his son. Now, instead of lying around all day in a drunken state, he moped around the Freegan village, murmuring about how everyone he cared about left him. It was really a sad thing to see.
Matt's dad finally went back to his camp that night, feeling alone and dejected. He'd gone to Mr. McTavish and asked permission to try and go find his son, but McTavish had politely (but firmly) brushed him off, stating that they didn't want to take any unnecessary risks. He thought this was unfair; this was his kid they were talking about, for crying out loud! He needed to find him, make sure he was okay! This was something that could finally give him a purpose, after so many years of being in a drunken stupor. He considered ignoring the order and going after Matt anyway. Yes! That would work! Nobody was going to try and tell him not to save his own son!
As he went into his hut to get some supplies, he found a paper lying on his table. Unaware that a similar note was being read at this moment by Lucy and Cara's family, he picked it up. It said:
Your child has been found, and is in safe hands. Please don't worry. We will try and get him to you as soon as possible.
The note wasn't signed. Instead, there was a peculiar spiral shape, almost like a tornado.
Saturday, February 5, 2011
Thursday, February 3, 2011
Freegans part 36
Cara
"What's that thing he's using?" I pointed to the thingy the Ox (as Ben had told me he was called) was holding to Madiza's head.
"Come here, and I'll show you," said the Ox. We dutifully trooped over to look. It was rectangular, made of some odd metal, and had a view-screen on the side facing us. The Ox was pressing a button on it with his thumb while he examined Madiza.
"This is used to study the brain waves in a person's mind, and calculate how much brain power they use. I invented it." The Ox seemed mildly proud of himself as he said this.
"How does it work?" asked Matt. By way of reply, the Ox held up the scanner thing to the side of Matt's head, and pushed the button. There was a loud humming noise, and then on the screen there appeared a lot of lines, kind of like a graph. The Ox studied it, and then gave a nod of satisfaction.
"According to this, you have the normal brainwaves of someone of your age and intelligence." They were wavy, and changed at a nice, slow rate. Then the Ox held it up to Madiza's head, so we could see, and pressed the button. Loud beeps and chirps came from the thing; the lines, when they appeared, were disjointed and uneven. Some were very jagged, and some were curvy, and one was perfectly straight.
"As you can see, her mental capacity is alarmingly high for someone her age, and also very out of sync. Her thoughts are not evenly organized, and keep changing rapidly. This proves that she is, in fact, Project 112."
When the Ox finished speaking, Madiza stood up and peered into his eyes, looking suspicious. Finally she smiled and said, "You're a good boy, too." Then she reached up and patted him on the head, like she had the Kestrel. He looked at us quizzically. I said, "She had to make sure we could trust you."
"Ah. I see."
Then Lucy spoke up. She asked, "Why is Madiza so important to you?" It was the question all of us had been wondering, but hadn't quite figured out how to ask.
"What's that thing he's using?" I pointed to the thingy the Ox (as Ben had told me he was called) was holding to Madiza's head.
"Come here, and I'll show you," said the Ox. We dutifully trooped over to look. It was rectangular, made of some odd metal, and had a view-screen on the side facing us. The Ox was pressing a button on it with his thumb while he examined Madiza.
"This is used to study the brain waves in a person's mind, and calculate how much brain power they use. I invented it." The Ox seemed mildly proud of himself as he said this.
"How does it work?" asked Matt. By way of reply, the Ox held up the scanner thing to the side of Matt's head, and pushed the button. There was a loud humming noise, and then on the screen there appeared a lot of lines, kind of like a graph. The Ox studied it, and then gave a nod of satisfaction.
"According to this, you have the normal brainwaves of someone of your age and intelligence." They were wavy, and changed at a nice, slow rate. Then the Ox held it up to Madiza's head, so we could see, and pressed the button. Loud beeps and chirps came from the thing; the lines, when they appeared, were disjointed and uneven. Some were very jagged, and some were curvy, and one was perfectly straight.
"As you can see, her mental capacity is alarmingly high for someone her age, and also very out of sync. Her thoughts are not evenly organized, and keep changing rapidly. This proves that she is, in fact, Project 112."
When the Ox finished speaking, Madiza stood up and peered into his eyes, looking suspicious. Finally she smiled and said, "You're a good boy, too." Then she reached up and patted him on the head, like she had the Kestrel. He looked at us quizzically. I said, "She had to make sure we could trust you."
"Ah. I see."
Then Lucy spoke up. She asked, "Why is Madiza so important to you?" It was the question all of us had been wondering, but hadn't quite figured out how to ask.
Sunday, January 30, 2011
Freegans part 35
Ben continued
I had written, 'Okay, what is going on? Who are these people, and what is he doing to Madiza?'
Kestrel frowned at me. "Who's Madiza?"
I gestured towards her, and the guy who was bent over her. He reminded me of the archetypal college professor: thin, with glasses and a slight beard. I could imagine him in a suit standing in front of a blackboard, holding chalk and writing complex equations.
"Oh. Why do you call her that?"
'It's what she calls herself. Madiza Hatter.'
Getting the pun in the name, Kestrel gave a small smile. "Well, don't worry, the Ox won't hurt her. He just wants to run a small test, make sure she's what he thinks."
'What are you talking about?'
"Wake your friends up. This is something all of you need to know."
Soon all four of us were seated around Kestrel. Madiza had woken up by now, and it appeared that the Ox was asking her some questions, and at the same time holding up some weird little box to the side of her head. It made little beeping sounds, almost as if it were scanning the insides of her brain.
"About six years ago, scientists working for the government developed a new type of technology they referred to as Project 112. Its' purpose was to get rid of schools, by transferring information directly into the brain, since it's basically a living computer. Anyway, before it could be sold, they first needed to experiment to make sure it was safe. To do this, they needed a test subject."
"You mean-" Lucy stopped in shock, and her eyes flicked in Madiza's direction.
"That's right. Your friend was already a prisoner, so they figured why not make her a lab mouse, too. The test run failed, filling up her brain too much. It was like a computer that had been overloaded; so to speak, her wires short-circuited."
"Wow. So there is such a thing as too much information," said Matt. All of us glared at him. This was hardly a laughing matter.
I had written, 'Okay, what is going on? Who are these people, and what is he doing to Madiza?'
Kestrel frowned at me. "Who's Madiza?"
I gestured towards her, and the guy who was bent over her. He reminded me of the archetypal college professor: thin, with glasses and a slight beard. I could imagine him in a suit standing in front of a blackboard, holding chalk and writing complex equations.
"Oh. Why do you call her that?"
'It's what she calls herself. Madiza Hatter.'
Getting the pun in the name, Kestrel gave a small smile. "Well, don't worry, the Ox won't hurt her. He just wants to run a small test, make sure she's what he thinks."
'What are you talking about?'
"Wake your friends up. This is something all of you need to know."
Soon all four of us were seated around Kestrel. Madiza had woken up by now, and it appeared that the Ox was asking her some questions, and at the same time holding up some weird little box to the side of her head. It made little beeping sounds, almost as if it were scanning the insides of her brain.
"About six years ago, scientists working for the government developed a new type of technology they referred to as Project 112. Its' purpose was to get rid of schools, by transferring information directly into the brain, since it's basically a living computer. Anyway, before it could be sold, they first needed to experiment to make sure it was safe. To do this, they needed a test subject."
"You mean-" Lucy stopped in shock, and her eyes flicked in Madiza's direction.
"That's right. Your friend was already a prisoner, so they figured why not make her a lab mouse, too. The test run failed, filling up her brain too much. It was like a computer that had been overloaded; so to speak, her wires short-circuited."
"Wow. So there is such a thing as too much information," said Matt. All of us glared at him. This was hardly a laughing matter.
Friday, January 28, 2011
Freegans part 34
Kestrel
I tensed as the door opened, waving at the silent kid to get down. I picked up the rifle and eased my way to the right, so as to have a clear field of fire if necessary. I felt my pulse quicken. There was silence for a few moments. Then-
"Byron!" Came the low hiss.
My heart leaped. "Pope!" I called back softly. In response, a gloved hand reached out, clicked the trapcatch, and then withdrew. Then Max stepped through the door. As usual, she looked unintentionally beautiful; her red hair was pulled back in a tight ponytail, and her features were accented by the tension in her eyes. I hadn't expected her; the Ox and I had planned this as a two-man operation. For a moment, I let myself pretend that she had wanted to see me again. I moved back to the bench and sat down.
The Ox came through behind her, adjusting his glasses. He looked at the children, then swung his gaze on me. "And 112?" he said, raising his eyebrows. I pointed to where the girl huddled in the corner, muttering in her sleep. "Ah", he said, and then walked over and squatted in front of her.
Max, meanwhile walked to me. "You made it out safely," she said. It was a statement of fact. I nodded. She sighed and sat down on the bench next to me. "Eastbridge is lost. There's no word from Oak or the Harpy. The Butcher made it out, I'm sure-- we had radio contact with him for a few moments before he went into the subways-- but who knows what he'll do." I nodded again. She looked very, very tired. "How long have you been up?" I asked; then, before she answered, I handed her a bottle of water. "Get some sleep. The Ox wants to take a look at her-" here I gestured towards 112- "and we can't risk moving for another three hours anyway. I'll stay on guard." At that moment, the silent kid, who had been still up to then, walked over and handed me his notebook.
I tensed as the door opened, waving at the silent kid to get down. I picked up the rifle and eased my way to the right, so as to have a clear field of fire if necessary. I felt my pulse quicken. There was silence for a few moments. Then-
"Byron!" Came the low hiss.
My heart leaped. "Pope!" I called back softly. In response, a gloved hand reached out, clicked the trapcatch, and then withdrew. Then Max stepped through the door. As usual, she looked unintentionally beautiful; her red hair was pulled back in a tight ponytail, and her features were accented by the tension in her eyes. I hadn't expected her; the Ox and I had planned this as a two-man operation. For a moment, I let myself pretend that she had wanted to see me again. I moved back to the bench and sat down.
The Ox came through behind her, adjusting his glasses. He looked at the children, then swung his gaze on me. "And 112?" he said, raising his eyebrows. I pointed to where the girl huddled in the corner, muttering in her sleep. "Ah", he said, and then walked over and squatted in front of her.
Max, meanwhile walked to me. "You made it out safely," she said. It was a statement of fact. I nodded. She sighed and sat down on the bench next to me. "Eastbridge is lost. There's no word from Oak or the Harpy. The Butcher made it out, I'm sure-- we had radio contact with him for a few moments before he went into the subways-- but who knows what he'll do." I nodded again. She looked very, very tired. "How long have you been up?" I asked; then, before she answered, I handed her a bottle of water. "Get some sleep. The Ox wants to take a look at her-" here I gestured towards 112- "and we can't risk moving for another three hours anyway. I'll stay on guard." At that moment, the silent kid, who had been still up to then, walked over and handed me his notebook.
Wednesday, January 26, 2011
Freegans part 33
Ben
Kestrel led us into a small alcove, and tapped part of the wall. To my surprise, it slid away, revealing a hidden cavern! He brought us inside, and tapped the wall again, closing it. Lucy gratefully sank to the floor in exhaustion. Kestrel said, "We'll wait here until reinforcements arrive."
"Reinforcements?" asked Cara. "There are more of you?"
"Of course," Kestrel said with a smile. "You didn't think I was the only Resistance member, did you?"
"Well, no," she admitted. I noticed that Madiza was sitting on the ground too. She had her chalk out, and was writing again. This time it caught me by surprise. She was writing over and over the number 112. Kestrel had noticed it too. His eyes widened.
"112?" asked Matt, staring at it. He looked up at the Kestrel. "Does this mean anything to you?"
"Maybe. But I can't explain right now. Later."
There was an old paraffin stove and some provisions in the cavern, and the Kestrel soon had things rather nice and cozy. He produced some sleeping bags when we were done eating, and Lucy (of course) was the first to crawl into one and fall asleep. Matt and Cara soon followed, and I didn't keep my eyes open for much longer. The sleeping bag was wonderfully comfortable, much better than the old pile of rags I'd slept on for the past five years. Madiza was now drawing cross sections of several different eyes, and I left her to it.
I woke abruptly, after what seemed not a long enough amount of sleep. The Kestrel was still keeping watch, and Cara and the others were still asleep. I realized what had woken me. Madiza had dozed off some time previously, and was now tossing and moaning.
"No...no...no, you can't have it! No! Go away! It's mine! My preciousssss!" The last word came out in a loud hiss. She snapped awake, eyes wide. Her eyes darted this way and that before she suddenly realized, "Oh. It was a dream." Then she lay down and went back to sleep. Kestrel raised his eyebrows at me. I shrugged; things like that had happened so many times that I was used to it. Kestrel asked, "Does she always do things like that?"
I nodded. He then asked, "Do you know why she can do that?" He indicated the chalk drawings. I got out my notepad and wrote, 'It's because of the experiments the government did on her, right?'
He replied enigmatically, "Basically, yes." I was about to ask on paper what he meant, but suddenly the door to the cavern began to open!
Kestrel led us into a small alcove, and tapped part of the wall. To my surprise, it slid away, revealing a hidden cavern! He brought us inside, and tapped the wall again, closing it. Lucy gratefully sank to the floor in exhaustion. Kestrel said, "We'll wait here until reinforcements arrive."
"Reinforcements?" asked Cara. "There are more of you?"
"Of course," Kestrel said with a smile. "You didn't think I was the only Resistance member, did you?"
"Well, no," she admitted. I noticed that Madiza was sitting on the ground too. She had her chalk out, and was writing again. This time it caught me by surprise. She was writing over and over the number 112. Kestrel had noticed it too. His eyes widened.
"112?" asked Matt, staring at it. He looked up at the Kestrel. "Does this mean anything to you?"
"Maybe. But I can't explain right now. Later."
There was an old paraffin stove and some provisions in the cavern, and the Kestrel soon had things rather nice and cozy. He produced some sleeping bags when we were done eating, and Lucy (of course) was the first to crawl into one and fall asleep. Matt and Cara soon followed, and I didn't keep my eyes open for much longer. The sleeping bag was wonderfully comfortable, much better than the old pile of rags I'd slept on for the past five years. Madiza was now drawing cross sections of several different eyes, and I left her to it.
I woke abruptly, after what seemed not a long enough amount of sleep. The Kestrel was still keeping watch, and Cara and the others were still asleep. I realized what had woken me. Madiza had dozed off some time previously, and was now tossing and moaning.
"No...no...no, you can't have it! No! Go away! It's mine! My preciousssss!" The last word came out in a loud hiss. She snapped awake, eyes wide. Her eyes darted this way and that before she suddenly realized, "Oh. It was a dream." Then she lay down and went back to sleep. Kestrel raised his eyebrows at me. I shrugged; things like that had happened so many times that I was used to it. Kestrel asked, "Does she always do things like that?"
I nodded. He then asked, "Do you know why she can do that?" He indicated the chalk drawings. I got out my notepad and wrote, 'It's because of the experiments the government did on her, right?'
He replied enigmatically, "Basically, yes." I was about to ask on paper what he meant, but suddenly the door to the cavern began to open!
Sunday, January 9, 2011
My Abduction
Last night I was abducted by aliens. As I recall, I had been in bed, fast asleep, when suddenly I woke up, for no good reason that I could figure out. It was dark in my room, with only the faintest light from the cracks in the window blinds. Then I realized that my closet door was glowing and shivering slightly. I thought at first that the monsters inside were breaking their oath, and were about to come and dispatch me (it's a longer story than this one), so I was shaking in my socks. To my surprise, the door flung itself open, and out came a spaceship!
It was a lot smaller than I had expected: only about the size and shape of a really big beach ball. Then I realized that it must be a pod, and that the spaceship must be outside, perhaps hovering above the house! I broke out in a faint cold sweat. The pod cracked open in the middle, and an alien popped out. It was rather small and thin, with glowing, bulgy blue eyes, webbed hands and feet, and ears that looked a lot like a bat's. Those were the most obvious details. When the alien saw me, it pulled out a tiny gun and zapped me with it. The next thing I knew, I was completely paralyzed, and lifted into the air. The pod with the alien still inside floated back towards the closet, with me floating behind, unable to move an inch, except perhaps my heart and lungs, which were doing calisthenics in my chest.
We went into the closet, and as soon as the door closed behind me, a blaze of color swam before my eyes, mixed with sight and sound. I half wondered if I had stumbled into the Twilight Zone. Suddenly, we were on the inside of what couldn't be anything but a spaceship. There were hundreds more of the aliens bustling about, obviously hard at work. The corridor we were in faintly reminded me of the ones aboard the starship Enterprise. My alien guide got out of his pod, which floated away. He then made a pulling motion with the stun gun, and I floated after him into a room. Inside were a dozen of the creatures, all of whom were seated around a table, talking and munching snacks. My heart started beating faster, if possible, when I saw the quantity of surgical instruments at one corner of the table. The alien at the head of the table asked, "Is this the one, Leroy?"
"Yes, sir!" said my capturer, saluting.
"Good. Put her on the table. And turn that thing off; we want her to be able to answer our questions."
Leroy did so, and I instantly found that I could move again. My first action was to pinch myself to make sure I was awake, even though I knew I was, since I had never had a dream this real before, and I wouldn't have remembered to pinch myself in a dream.
I looked at the aliens. They stared back. Some of them were glaring at me. Suddenly, the one at the head of the table, obviously the captain, demanded, "Why haven't you written more of your story on your blog?!" It was as if he'd pressed a button that set the other aliens off.
"We've been waiting to find out what happens next!"
"I want to know if the Kestrel gets the children to safety!"
"Me too! How do they get away?!"
"Stop holding out on us!"
"Please! Please!" I begged. "It's my ghost writer's fault! He's supposed to ghost the next chapter, and he's been too busy to do it!"
"Excuses, excuses," muttered one of the aliens. "I say we just dissect her now."
"No!" snapped one of the others. "She can't write if she's dissected!" That started a new flood of shouting and arguing, and even a short fistfight, until the head of the alien council jumped onto the table and yelled for order.
"Alright!" he said, "You have all made your points clear! Fisher, Jenkins, that's enough! (Two of the guard aliens pulled the combatants apart) Now, I will give you my decision. Because she has a legitimate excuse for not writing more on her blog story about the Freegans, I will postpone this girl's dissection for a couple of weeks. However, if by that time she has not written anymore, well then-" he picked up a scalpel and turned it so that it caught the light. I hadn't known that knives could glint evilly before. It made the hair on my neck stand on end.
"Do you understand?" the captain asked, staring at me with his bulgy eyes.
"Y-yes, sir," I squeaked out, my voice several octaves higher than usual.
"Good," he said, "It is done."
After that, they took me back home, relatively unharmed, unless sheer terror and fear of the inevitable counts as being harmed. I just wanted to say, except if my ghost writer finds time to write the next chapter, that it's been nice knowing you.
It was a lot smaller than I had expected: only about the size and shape of a really big beach ball. Then I realized that it must be a pod, and that the spaceship must be outside, perhaps hovering above the house! I broke out in a faint cold sweat. The pod cracked open in the middle, and an alien popped out. It was rather small and thin, with glowing, bulgy blue eyes, webbed hands and feet, and ears that looked a lot like a bat's. Those were the most obvious details. When the alien saw me, it pulled out a tiny gun and zapped me with it. The next thing I knew, I was completely paralyzed, and lifted into the air. The pod with the alien still inside floated back towards the closet, with me floating behind, unable to move an inch, except perhaps my heart and lungs, which were doing calisthenics in my chest.
We went into the closet, and as soon as the door closed behind me, a blaze of color swam before my eyes, mixed with sight and sound. I half wondered if I had stumbled into the Twilight Zone. Suddenly, we were on the inside of what couldn't be anything but a spaceship. There were hundreds more of the aliens bustling about, obviously hard at work. The corridor we were in faintly reminded me of the ones aboard the starship Enterprise. My alien guide got out of his pod, which floated away. He then made a pulling motion with the stun gun, and I floated after him into a room. Inside were a dozen of the creatures, all of whom were seated around a table, talking and munching snacks. My heart started beating faster, if possible, when I saw the quantity of surgical instruments at one corner of the table. The alien at the head of the table asked, "Is this the one, Leroy?"
"Yes, sir!" said my capturer, saluting.
"Good. Put her on the table. And turn that thing off; we want her to be able to answer our questions."
Leroy did so, and I instantly found that I could move again. My first action was to pinch myself to make sure I was awake, even though I knew I was, since I had never had a dream this real before, and I wouldn't have remembered to pinch myself in a dream.
I looked at the aliens. They stared back. Some of them were glaring at me. Suddenly, the one at the head of the table, obviously the captain, demanded, "Why haven't you written more of your story on your blog?!" It was as if he'd pressed a button that set the other aliens off.
"We've been waiting to find out what happens next!"
"I want to know if the Kestrel gets the children to safety!"
"Me too! How do they get away?!"
"Stop holding out on us!"
"Please! Please!" I begged. "It's my ghost writer's fault! He's supposed to ghost the next chapter, and he's been too busy to do it!"
"Excuses, excuses," muttered one of the aliens. "I say we just dissect her now."
"No!" snapped one of the others. "She can't write if she's dissected!" That started a new flood of shouting and arguing, and even a short fistfight, until the head of the alien council jumped onto the table and yelled for order.
"Alright!" he said, "You have all made your points clear! Fisher, Jenkins, that's enough! (Two of the guard aliens pulled the combatants apart) Now, I will give you my decision. Because she has a legitimate excuse for not writing more on her blog story about the Freegans, I will postpone this girl's dissection for a couple of weeks. However, if by that time she has not written anymore, well then-" he picked up a scalpel and turned it so that it caught the light. I hadn't known that knives could glint evilly before. It made the hair on my neck stand on end.
"Do you understand?" the captain asked, staring at me with his bulgy eyes.
"Y-yes, sir," I squeaked out, my voice several octaves higher than usual.
"Good," he said, "It is done."
After that, they took me back home, relatively unharmed, unless sheer terror and fear of the inevitable counts as being harmed. I just wanted to say, except if my ghost writer finds time to write the next chapter, that it's been nice knowing you.
Thursday, January 6, 2011
Help
Does anybody know how to delete posts? I wrote one earlier, and realized there was some stuff in it that others might object to, but I couldn't figure out how to delete it, so I just deleted all of the content. But now it's going to be annoying me for the rest of my life, unless I can get rid of it.
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