Escalation, Sci-fi nonsense Options

[jack cloudy]

Ok, so as some of you may already know, I'm doing the Nanowrimo and doing a bad job at it, running way behind schedule and all. So I've decided to post what I have here so anyone who is willing can advice me on it. Alright, here we go. Note: This is skirting the edge of PG-13 in places. Don't read if you're easily offended. And I'm warning you, this first post is a long read.


Escalation

Chapter 1: Shadow at midnight.

The harbour was veiled in the night’s darkness, a darkness made only more real by the soft rush of waves tapping the docks while a lighthouse blinked on and off like an all-seeing eye. Ships lay moored at their piers, forklifts stood forgotten in a corner next to a labyrinth of containers. At one place, the darkness and shadows were kept at a distancy by the means of a shallow stream of light that came from a small building and a few lonely streetlamps. The building was essentially a container that had been turned into a single-room office with a desk, three chairs, an access port to the internet, a heater and a single potted plant in the corner. Two shadows were visible through the thin curtain of the office’s only window. A man, meeting someone else. A boot noiselessly stepped down just below the window as a third Shadow crouched outside. None of the two inside had noticed, which was exactly what this Shadow had been hoping for. And a Shadow it was, a Shadow of such a dark shade one could only see it by seeking the area where the shadows were even darker than anywhere else.

The window had been opened slightly, as to allow the night’s cool breeze to refresh the men inside. This however, would prove to be a mistake. A mistake that would let in something entirely unwanted.

The Shadow opened a gloved fist and let a small moth take off from its palm. The creature flitted back and forth, edging towards the light that was such a temptation to its brain. It found the opening and ventured inside, drawn towards that brilliant light that. It circled high above the heads of the room’s occupants, swerving back and forth. Neither the men nor the insect realized what had been attached to its belly between the limbs. With each beat of its wings, the tiny camera readjusted its aim, slowly drawing a full image of the entire room. Once it had done its task, the device dissolved into a gooey mess that underwent a reaction with the air and evaporated. The bug never noticed and continued its flight to the source of the light, oblivious to what role it had played.

The Shadow settled into a more comfortable position where it waited till the ones inside were too busy talking to hear anything but their own voices. It brought the hand bearing his wristwatch to one ear and waited for the right moment.
“Vizal, report.” The Shadow hissed when this moment had arrived. The two inside were discussing the price of something.
“Two people. one on your right, one on your left and with his back to the door. The seated one on the right is irrelevant, a businessman, possibly the owner of several warehouses, or at least one who does the administration for said warehouses. The one on the right is however a possible shifter.” At the last word, the Shadow bared a grin. Just three hours, and it had already found its mark.

The grin vanished as quick as it had come, to be replaced by an expression of professional determination. To capture a shifter was good and deserving of praise. To capture a random person however, was the second worst thing it could possibly do, the worst being killing said random person. It had to confirm, first of all. And if the man turned out to be a shifter, it would have to make a plan before charging in. None of the shifters the Shadow had hunted so far had been willing to go peacefully. Usually they had required definite persuasion.
“More information, please.” It requested to the AI that was built into the black wristwatch.

“Brian Amgin, 67% certainty. Date of death, 79 A.D., 24th of August. No known alterations.” Vizal listed dutifully. The Shadow frowned. 67%, that wasn’t such a high possibility if one assumed that there were dozens of people alive who resembled this Brian Amgin. In all reality, it could be a Joseph Smitherson or something. So should it walk away and loose a chance at arrest, or should it move in and accept the possibility of being wrong? The Shadow debated in silence while the two men inside continued their negotiations, loud enough to be heard outside. It seemed that one of the two wished to store something at a warehouse but wasn’t happy with the normal fair and was now trying to get a discount. The Shadow made up its mind.

“Vizal, throw up a random number. If it’s even, we’ll leave them alone. Uneven, we’re going in.” It ordered. The reply came instantaneously.
“Uneven, though I must add that leaving one’s decisions to random chance is very unprofessional.”
“Oh, shut your mouth. How I do things is my own affair. And that’s exactly how I’m going to do it, my way. I’ve told you that before plenty of times.”
The Shadow got up and moved to the other side of the street, making sure to stay outside the streetlight’s glow.
“Heh, he’ll never know what hit him.”

“Security deposit is in order, id-copy looks good. Alright, I think we’re done. Thank you for your commitment.” Stephen Worly said as he stacked the documents into a neat pile. The man on the other side of the table smiled slightly. For some reason, that expression gave the accountant the shivers. There was something about that man he just couldn’t place. Brian Amgin, of European descent, a man in his forties who sported a wealthy grey beard and a healthy physique, recently arrived at Atlantis to secure a storage place for an incoming shipment of bicycles. He seemed normal, but there was something about him. A gaze that made it seem as if he wasn’t quite paying attention. Worly shrugged. It wasn’t any of his business. Besides, the clock on the wall told him it was well past midnight. He couldn’t blame the man if he was half asleep at this time.

“No, I should be the one giving the thanks here.” Amgin replied. The two men got up out of their seats and shook hands. In mid-shake, Amgin froze. Something had moved in the corner of his eye, he was certain of it. He cast a glance at the window to confirm. Nothing moved now, and he couldn’t see anything out of the ordinary either. But just because he couldn’t see anything did not mean that nothing was there. His instinct had gone into high alert for some reason and after nearly two thousand years, his instinct had developed into something that could be trusted. Making the decision was easy. He would trust his instinct and assume that something was there outside.
“My, look at how dark it is outside. I won’t hold you any longer. I’m sure you are as tired as I am.” He spoke quickly, picking up his hat from the table. He turned his back to the window and planted the hat firmly on his head.
“Well then, good night. The bicycles should arrive next week.”

Three seconds after turning his back to the window, said window was shattered as something came through. But Amgin wasn’t as sleepy as he seemed. He had already set in motion a quick spin that brought him back to face whatever had entered. He swung an arm at the blackness and gripped the first solid thing he encountered. With a suppressed grunt, he forced the thing away from himself. A soft snap could be heard, followed by a louder thud. Amgin froze, as did his assailant. Both glanced to the other side of the room, where Worly had collapsed onto the floor. Blood seeped from a small tear in his jacket and as they watched, the man’s breathing became irregular and weakened within seconds. Even someone with only the most basic knowledge of human anatomy could see that the wound was fatal. The bullet had passed between the ribs and punctured the heart. Worly’s time in this world had come to a sudden end.

Amgin was the first to draw his eyes away from the sight.
“You broke the Rule.” Was all he said, in a casual tone. The accountant’s death had been unexpected, but it took more to shock him.
“As did you.” The Shadow snapped back. Amgin gave a cheerless grin.
“Ah, a man. I was wondering already. It’s hard to judge when all you see is a pitchblack silhouette.” He whispered in a dry monotone. Both men peered into each other’s eyes, one pair grey and the other the utmost black.
“Don’t try to be funny. It won’t help you if that’s what you believe. I’ve been in the business for five decades and never did my prey get away. Do you hear me? Never. So if there’s any god or something you pray to, start praying.” The Shadow stated.
“That is your mistake. For I am the hunter, and you are the prey. Not the other way around. Breaking the Rule is what I did and will do as often as I deem necessary. I have plans here, and you are not part of them. And going for the full frontal? Please, as if I didn’t saw that one coming. Practice harder before your next try.” Amgin replied, still with the same tone. The black eyes widened in stunned confusion. Then they narrowed.

The gun broke free from Amgin’s grip and swung around. Another soft snap sounded. This shot failed to find its target just like the first. Amgin had thrown himself forward, tackling the Shadow to the ground. The bullet that had been intended for his flesh shattered the lightbulb instead. In the ensuing darkness, neither Shadow nor Amgin could see a thing. But sight was no longer needed. A third snap.

Two minutes later, a single figure emerged from the small building. The figure closed the buttons on his raincoat and realigned the hat on his head as he walked off into the night.
“The fool, going for a full frontal assault on someone like me. Tsk, probably watched too many spy movies. He should have brought a tank, not a gun. And calling me a youngster, just who does he think he is?” Amgin sneered and closed the door. He casually felt the bump on the inside pocket of his raincoat. The Shadow’s gun was the only thing that didn’t turn into a puddle of goo after its owner’s death. Amgin had been expecting a self-destruct mechanism and had disabled the gun’s electronics before this could occur. A side-effect was however, that it had now been reduced to dead weight. But none of that mattered. The weapon wouldn’t have accepted him anyway, not while it was still functioning. Hell, he was likely to get a poisoned needle slammed into his finger the moment he pulled the trigger. When he had time, he would repair the damage, but not now. Now, he had places to be.
“I hope that he’ll be still awake this late.”


Chapter 2: Morning with a hangover.

As I looked into the mirror, last night’s foul mood returned in full. I had bags under my droopy eyes the size of a planet, my hair stuck everywhere but where it was supposed to stick, my mouth was open in a constant yawn and apparently I’d misplaced my pyamas somewhere during the night. Simply put, I looked like a wreck. I felt like one as well. At least I still knew where my pants were, on my head like some sort of silly hat. Talk about displacement.
“Dang it, not again. Ugh, this so sucks big time with strawberries-and-whipped-cream-on-top-of-a-kingsized-icecream.” I moaned and glared at my reflection. Well dang it, now I was drooling as well! Just what was wrong with this world?!

I managed to tear my eyes away from the breathing nightmare and check the clock in my living-room. 5:36 am. Had I really been under the sheets that short? I swear I’d gone to bed at around 22:00 pm. Maybe I should just go back and catch some more sleep. On the other hand, I had a job that begun at 9:30 am, so maybe I shouldn’t. What if I slept till lunchtime?

I pulled my face back to the mirror. The sudden movement made a lance of solid agony stab me behind the eyes and directly into my brains. I clutched my head with one hand while holding on to the sink with the other for support. It gave me serious doubts about getting any further rest. Not with that headache. At that time, I was sorely tempted to swallow a few handfuls of pills but my doctor had explicitly told me not to. Had something to do with my stomach still being in the recovery-phase and unable to process large amounts of chemicals. Something like that. I figured a shower might help just as well though so I stretched to my toes to get at the inconveniently high cabinet for some soap.

“Waah!” Next moment I knew, I was on the floor, surrounded by bits of porcelain and shards of glass. There went the sink and the mirror, again, for the second time this week. Geez, the plumber really must love me. I swear, he’ll be a full-blown millionaire by Christmas if this keeps up. I sputtered some random nonsense in the fountain of water that spilled forth from the broken pipe, right into my face. Once I’d gotten over my shock though, I stumbled back to my feet and returned to the combined livingroom/bedroom/kitchen, the only other room in my apartment, where I snatched the phone.

I tapped my foot impatiently as the device beeped.
“Silverglass apartments, you’re speaking to the caretaker. May I help you?” A sleepy voice finally grunted on the other side of the line after two whole minutes.
“Yeah, cut off my watersupply, pronto! I’ve got a bloody waterfall going off here!” I yelled back. The jet of water died out immediately. The bathroom was ruined, again, and I’d just shut off my apartment’s water. So much for a shower, if I didn’t count the cold one I just got.
“Two times in one week, and both times in the middle of the night. Don’t make a habit of it or I’ll kick you out. I rather like my sleep.” With those soft words, my caretaker hung up. If making me panic had been his plan, it worked. Livingspace is expensive and I definitely didn’t want to give up my shack.

Amazingly, I felt much better now that I was soaked. Or at least, I did at first. When the first drops of blood began to trickle down my nose a bit later, that feeling diminished quite a bit. I inspected my face with a finger and found the wound soon enough. A small gash right on the forehead that bled far more than its modest size would make me expect.
“Note to self: Buy a mirror of bullet-proof, shock-resistant glass. And while I’m on a roll, buy one of those kitchen-stair thingies. That, or place things where I can reach them without jumping and banging my head against the mirror.” I told myself after I’d put a bandage on the wound.

5:42 am. Three more hours till I had to go places. Three more hours with nothing to do but lie on the sofa with a hangover from here to Tokyo. What to do, what to do? Reading? A single glance at the pile of magazines stuffed under the sofa made me reconsider. I’d read and reread each one of them like a dozen times. I’d only get bored from that. What to do? I absentmindedly picked up one of the magazines and flicked through its pages, more focused on my internal dialogue than on the articles. I could really use that shower right now, broken bathroom or not. An idea struck me just as I thought that I’d reached the depths of despair.

Five minutes later, I balanced precariously on the pile of old magazines which had been relocated to the bathroom, where it was soaking up the water lying on the floor. Now, I could easily reach the cabinet and grab the soap. I figured that sacrificing a year worth of my favourite magazines was a payable price for a good shower. Besides, I could always download the issues from the internet. Maybe I should do that anyway, it would save trees and livingspace.

My climb down to solid ground was less than elegant and would have resulted in another bandaged disaster if I didn’t have a pile of soaked paper to break my fall. Now I had only suffered critical damage to my dignity. I pulled off the strips of paper that clung to my skin and dove into my wardrobe for a towel and a bathrobe. After that, it was off to the neighbours. I hesitated and fidgeted about for like half a minute before actually opening the door and leaving my apartment. It would be the first time for me to go outside wearing nothing more but a bathrobe and a pair of slippers. But meh, there weren’t any windows in the corridor and the chance I’d actually run into someone this early in the morning was like nonexistent. So I told myself not to be so scared of appearing to be indecent and just open the dang door already.

I let out an annoyed sigh and leaned my back against the door of the Hendersons. I never realized I would feel frightened with the prospect of ringing the doorbell.
“Bah, I’m not worried about how I look. I just don’t want to wake anyone up in the morning. I mean, those people need sleep like everyone else.” I argued with myself out loud. Too loud.
“Wah!” Again, I went for the floor, this time because the door I’d been leaning against opened inwards. If only I hadn’t been whining so much, I would have heard the footsteps or the key being turned in the lock. Now, I had the honour of looking up at my neighbour’s face from a very low vantage point. Flat on my back.

“Oh my, are you alright? You’re not hurt, Emmy? Nothing broken? How’s your neck? I read that it’s really bad for your neck to fall like that. And oh no, you’ve got a bandage on your forehead? What happened, are you alright? Maybe you should go to a doctor.” Yup, that was good old Nance Henderson, always fearing the worst. I sat up quickly and then pulled myself back onto my feet.
“I’m fine, really. Nothing to worry about.” I muttered while dusting off my bathrobe. The place was spotless as always, but manners dictated that I made the gesture. I stole a glance at the older woman. We were like polar opposites, which always had me wondering.

She looked a hundred, I looked twelve. She was fivehundred and sixty, I was seventeen. She was 1.76 metres, I was 1.52. Our weights were the same, 80, yet I looked half-anorexic. She was opposed to anything involving body alterations beyond the standard anti-aging program, I had embraced it fully. She kept her place cleaner than an industrial laserlens, mine looked as if a hurricane had passed through. She dressed in inconspicuous grey dresses down to her ankles, I loved frilly blue ones that only went just beyond the knees. She kept her white hair in an elegant knot that looked like a donut, something that took her two hours each morning just to get done. I just let my green hairdo fall down to my knees in whatever way gravity desired and restricted myself to five quick strokes with a brush. She praised a healthy diet of bread, carrots and oranges, in three meager meals. I ate fries, hamburgers and the daily menu at the restaurant just around the corner, four times a day in two-person portions. Yup, it was a miracle we could stand being neighbours.

“Umm, Emmy? Why did you ring the doorbell? I asked you three times already. Wake up.” Nance whispered urgently, glancing over her shoulder at the bedroom all the time. I broke my train of thought and gathered my words again. Wow, her hair actually looked like a mess. Hah, rough night.
“That, ah….Is it inconvenient? I could come back later.” I whispered myself. Peter Henderson, her husband, was one of the crankiest fellows I’d ever met, if his sleep was interrupted. I seriously didn’t want to ruin his morning.
“Not inconvenient for me. But maybe you should first use a hairdryer back home. You’re still dripping from your shower.” Nance was about to close the door when she stopped and simply stared at my face.
“Ah, dang it. I’m blushing, ain’t I?” I whimpered which got me a stern eyebrow. Ah, right. She abhorred crude language, even a lame dang it.

“Well, about the shower. Err…..I was trying to take one but……How to explain?…..Uhhmm” I began to stammer and then took a deep breath to calm my nerves. I knew I was going to unleash some serious panic.
“I tried to take the soap out of the cabinet, lost my balance, slammed my face against the mirror, shattering it, knocked down the sink and broke the plumbing.” I finished rapidly. I nearly had to stifle a yawn when Nance’s hands flew up to her face. Yup, panic attack.
“You shattered a mirror? That brings bad luck. And you did it with enough force to cut your forehead and knock down the sink?” She panted. Then she turned around quickly. I clamped my hands over my ears and awaited the inevitable.
“PETER! WAKE UP AND CALL AN AMBULANCE! EMMY IS INJURED!” Nance shrieked.

“WHAT, WOMAN?! DON’T MAKE SUCH RACKET IN THE MORNING!” Peter howled back and was up at the door in an instant. He looked like a male version of his wife, probably because he also looked a hundred years old. Weird fellows, to pick that age and physique when you could be a totally breathtaking person in your early twenties. Nance repeated her own words and I clamped my ears down harder. All this noise was not going to help me lose my headache.
“I’M FINE, REALLY! I JUST WANTED TO ASK IF I COULD BORROW YOUR BATHROOM FOR A SHOWER BECAUSE MINE IS RUINED! AND PLEASE STOP YELLING AT EACH OTHER CAUSE I’VE GOT A HEADACHE FROM HERE TO TOKYO AND TOKYO IS NOT EXACTLY AROUND THE CORNER!” I yelled at the two. Ugh, I nearly tipped over from my headache right there. I held on to the doorframe just to keep standing. Of course, this meant I had to release my hold on one of my ears.

Fortunately, the Henderson’s had stopped shouting and now simply stood dumbfounded.
“Ah, right. Your bathroom broke. Odd, didn’t you get a new one installed yesterday? A bit quick to break it, don’t you think? I advice you not to hire the cheapest company this time.” Peter commented calmly while scratching the back of his head. Nance was having trouble controlling her heartbeat and she was still partway in a state of panic.
“Ah, that’s right. And you fell right over when I opened the door. And oh, now you’re leaning against the doorframe for support. Are you sure you’re alright?” She pleaded. I glared.
“Yes, I’m fine, I told you that a dozen times already. I’ve just got early morning syndrome so I’m really cranky.” I tried hard to keep from snapping.
“Whatever is the case, go ahead Emmy.” Peter interjected.
“Though be careful with our bathroom, you are awfully clumsy this morning.” He then added, after I’d tripped over the carpet and nearly fallen onto my face. Dang it.


Chapter 3:

Amgin stepped lightly onto the deck of the decrepit old fisherman’s boat. It had been quite a struggle to find it amidst the countless other vessels. Even worse had been the fact that he wasn’t aware he was looking for a boat till he actually came within a hundred metres of it. He had just been following a signal that was sent out for less than a microsecond with ten minute intervals, on a constantly shifting frequency.
“Well, that’s the thing with running on a plan made up thirty years ago.” He noted to himself as he looked around. Even now that he stood on the wobbling deck, he could barely see the boat. It was just a different shade of black. Easiest to see where the navigation lights, one red and one green, which were placed on opposite sides and warned any other vessels where not to dock.

The man pushed his hat down to cover most of his face from the salty water that splashed up at times as he pondered his situation. First of all, he had to make sure he was on the right boat. A simple matter of waiting for the next signal and checking its strength. He kept an eye out for any movements but didn’t see anything unusual. As the time for the signal drew near, he became increasingly anxious.

Blip

Amgin checked his watch. Five and a half metres. This was the place. He calmly walked over to the steering cabin and kicked the steel door, hard.
“What by tha bloody sharks of heaven?! Who tha hell dare knock on my door in the middle of tha night?! It’s three in the morning, ya vulture of night’s rest! Leave an old man alone, ya lug of crab! I should keelhaul ya! Yarr and all!” A cracking voice erupted on the other side, leaving Amgin quite amused. With a loud clank, the lock opened and the door swung outwards, forcing him to step back. A flashlight flared up in his eyes and he squinted against the sudden light. Through the glare, he performed a quick study of the fisherman. It was a weathered man, who looked like a skeleton with dried skin. He was garbed in a simple shirt and old jeans. He had changed, changed a lot. But his eyes hadn’t changed at all.

“Well, well, well. It appears that the mighty emperor has become a lowly fisherman. How humbling.” Amgin chuckled, tapped the rim of his hat and bowed his head.
“Good evening, Claudius. I’m sorry I woke you up, but I do have an appointment.” He continued, in a more serious tone. Instantly, the fisherman’s demeanor changed, as did his accent.
“Gaius? Oh my, come in, come in. Don’t stand about, it’s cold outside. Come in, come in. My, my. I totally forgot. I’m most sorry.” He apologized as he literally pushed the larger man inside and forced him out of his raincoat.

The cabin was simple but comfortable. There was a kitchen at the far corner, a low table in the center flanked by two sofas and countless pictures lining the walls. Pictures of people, of the boat and of both. Without waiting for an invitation, Amgin sat down on one of the sofas and placed his hat beside him. Neither of the two said a word while the fisherman collected two green cans from a small refrigerator which he placed upon the table. They were cans of beer, Neptune’s foam, a cheap brand.

The two cans gave off a simultaneous hiss as two hands simultaneously popped two lids.
“I won’t blame you for forgetting. After all, we agreed not to mark down the date anywhere and instead commit it to memory. After that, we’ve had no contact between each other for over a thirty years. It’s only natural for you to be preoccupied with other business.” Amgin spoke calmly and tried a sip.
“Why, thank you. Like the beer?” Claudius replied, himself taking a much larger gulp. Amgin winced and put down the can on the table again.
“A tad too bitter for my liking, but I’ve had worse.” He concluded. He waved his hand across the pictures on the wall.

“I see you’ve been busy establishing a cover identity.” He noted dryly yet with a subtle sense of playful mockery. Claudius frowned uneasily and took another large gulp, emptying his can. After a short debate, he picked up Amgin’s and downed it as well.
“Please, don’t refer to it as that. After enough time has passed, the mask becomes reality and reality becomes the mask.” He finally objected. Amgin merely cocked an eyebrow.
“So you’re saying I can no longer trust you?” He reasoned, without any sharpness.
“No no, nothing of the sort. It’s just…..you know.” Claudius stammered. Amgin nodded.
“I see. Care to tell me about your family?” He asked. There was more important business than bringing up relatives, but that could wait. For now, he wanted to catch up with an old friend.

“Of course, I’d be delighted. I’m telling you, they’re much better than the old hags and tyrants.” Claudius said with an eager grin. He jumped up from the sofa and nearly stumbled over his legs while trying to take a picture of the wall. He put the picture in Amgin’s hands and sat down again.
“The guy on the left is me, obviously. Well, I’ll start with that redhaired beauty standing beside me. That’s Marianne Dickins, my wife, now Marianne Cliff-Dickins. I met her somewhere around here, when Atlantis was still under heavy construction. She’s absolutely lovely, heart of gold and no ambition at all.” The Fisherman began. Amgin chuckled.
“No ambition? Now that’s a bit of a change. Does she know she’s married to a Roman emperor?” He interjected. He also put a mental note to the name Cliff. It was a rather funny coincidence that his friend had chosen that name for his new identity. He’d met a Cliff recently, for other business. Of course, there was no proof whatsoever of there actually being any connection in blood, but it was fun to think about.

“No, she doesn’t and I don’t plan on ever telling her. I don’t want to spoil anything. Best scenario, she’ll take it as a joke. Worst scenario, she’ll think I’m nuts and ditch me. Ugh, that would be worse than being made emperor and forced to marry that….thing, not to mention having to pick her son as a heir. I’m serious, people have an over-romanticized view of being the top boss in the whole known world. It’s murderous business and you’re lucky if you can both survive and keep your sanity intact for the first five years. I was actually glad when I got poisoned. Best thing that umbrella seller had ever done for me, seriously.” Claudius’ millennia-old anger had flared up again, yet subsided just as quickly as it had come. Over time, he’d got past his issues. Few now acknowledged his lineage as part of the first imperial Roman dynasty. He didn’t care. It was better that way, even moreso because most of his relatives were permanently behind bars or declared mentally insane. Romans had been a tough and ruthless breed, full of ambition. The imperial family had been just a bit more ambitious than any other.

Amgin had only listened with half an ear to the tirade he’d heard countless times before. He’d actually met several of the Julii himself and he agreed with Claudius when the man claimed not ever to have to do with them again. Subconsciously, he shivered at the thought.
“Monsters, they’re just monstrous.” He thought but shook himself back to the conversation.
“You’ve got a daughter. A pretty one at that. Hmm, artificial insemination?” He asked. If Claudius had been beaming with pride at the mention of his wife, he was now radiating more energy than a thousand suns at the mention of his daughter.

“artificial insemination? None of that! Hah, you’ll love to hear this. It’s illegal, but I don’t care! Just me being here is illegal!” He laughed.
“No, Marianne wanted children so bad and I just couldn’t refuse her. But to just go for a sperm donor or adoption would break her heart as it wouldn’t be the same thing. How could she know I’m infertile because I’m just not quite human anymore? I decided that I would find a way to grant her her wish, the Rule be damned. So, remember the nanite bulb I brought with me? I’ve been growing a small colony in the closet. Anyway, I encoded a handful of nanites with my dna, programmed them to act as human seed and umm….injected myself with them. Two weeks later, she got pregnant.” He’d hushed his voice and his excitement had died down for the most part.
“She carried twins, identical. One of them didn’t make it though. There were some complications during birth. I still don’t know if the fault was just something natural, or because my nanite solution was in the end still just an improvisation.”

His excitement returned now that he’d passed the most painful part.
“Anyway, and that’s how my daughter came to be. Sarah Cliff, now barely seventeen years old.” He ended. Amgin made another mental note.
“Seventeen. Interesting.”
“I see. I hope you realize that there will be trouble regarding your choice eventually but when that happens, you have my word that I’ll stand by your side.” The man promised.
“That’s good to hear. I hope they’ll put the blame on me, and not on them. They don’t deserve that kind of trouble right after Styx. But enough about me. Let’s talk about you.” Claudius changed the subject in a sudden rush.

Amgin shrugged.
“Not yet, please. You know that at this point, I need as much information as I can get. So first, tell me how you eluded the LAVI.” He countered. Claudius tapped his nose, thrice, before answering.
“I suppose I should. It’s really simple though. The point is, I knew I couldn’t avoid the LAVI. I couldn’t escape. So I had to make sure I would never be hunted in the first place. So I made up a plan. First, I bought some real estate in the middle of nowhere. Then, I bought the parts needed to build a suitably sized gamma-burst-bomb which I brought to my new real estate. I followed up by loudly proclaiming I would live as a hermit for the next century or so while trying to find my inner soul or some similar nonsense. So with everyone thinking I would be out of sight for a while, I shifted, together with the nanite bulb and the bomb. I shifted to downtown Hong Kong where I scrammed. I can only assume that the LAVI flew into a panic upon finding the bomb and never stopped to think that there might have been something more than that.” He recited calmly. He then grimaced.
“Can’t blame them, really. That thing would have killed all life on half the continent if it blew, and I do know that no decoy is better than the real thing so it was armed.” The casual shrug was a chilling sign of nonchalance, made only more chilling by the subject.

Now it was Amgin’s turn to grimace.
“Clever, and effective. I should keep that in mind.” He moved to his raincoat hanging on the clothesrack where he dug inside its pockets. The object he’d retrieved made a soft clunk when put down on the table. Neither man said a word. Claudius’ left eyelid began to twitch, a sign of rising unease. Finally he could no longer control the urge.
“Gaius, what’s that?” He asked, sounding rather indignified. Amgin shrugged. There was nothing uneasy about how he carried himself.
“A weapon.” He replied, not mincing any words.
“A weapon?! This is a weapon?! The weapon you promised you would bring, the one you spent thirty years preparing for?! This is what you want to use?! Do you have any idea how utterly doomed we are?!”

Amgin was unfazed under the tirade.
“This is not the weapon I have spoken about. This is a mere souvenir from a LAVI I met. It’s a big and loud item, perfect for those with large egos that require constant stimulation. Electromagnetic acceleration-system. A thirty-sliver magazine mounted along the barrel. Selfdestruct system, soundbox and automatic aim adjustment. It’s disabled. Fix it, minus the selfdestruct and soundbox. I need to go back to Ibliss now to check on the status of the weapon. I expect a suitable cover identity upon my return and the gun to be fixed. Goodnight.” He spoke in his favourite dry monotone. Without a word of farewell, he picked up his hat and raincoat, then exited the cabin.
“Do this, do that. Just who was the emperor around here?” Claudius’ grumbled to himself now that he was alone once more.

Chapter 4: It’s just a shower.

Ah, nothing’s better to cheer up a girl with a hangover than the warm hiss of a shower in the morning, complete with mint-scented soap. I was starting to feel better already and my headache had been reduced to a mere dull throbbing somewhere behind my eyes. This was just perfect for me, a nice paradise of water and sweet soap. If I were drunk, I might think I’d died and gone to heaven. If I were really drunk. It takes more than a single beer to make me think pure nonsense like that.

Well, almost perfect paradise. The illusion was shattered when my plug began to blare its high-pitched squeal for attention. I felt like kicking myself for being stupid enough to tuck it into my bathrobe and I tried, which resulted in me spinning around on my left foot three times, then grabbing the showerhead and crashing to the cabinfloor.
“Dang it, this is like the umpteenth time it happened!” I sputtered. At least the showerhead was one of those mobile ones you could either mount on a rack or hold in your hands. If it was my bathroom, I would have broken a few things. Oh wait, I did and that’s why I was at the neighbour’s. Yeah, silly me for forgetting.

I took my time getting back up and putting the showerhead back on the rack. Part of me told, asked, pleaded, begged me to get my plug and see just who the hell was phoning at six in the morning. The other part just wished the damn thing would shut up and leave me at peace. The latter was in for some bad luck. Three minutes later, the thing was still screaming. And over time, it had gotten louder and louder in its attempts to drag me out of the cabin and grab it.
“DAMN YOU, EMMY! JUST ANSWER THE DAMN THING ALREADY! IT’S DRIVING ME NUTS!” Peter yelled from the livingroom.
“MIND YOUR WORDS, PETER! THERE WILL BE NO FOUL LANGUAGE IN THIS HOUSE!” Nance cut in with the renewed cacophony. I let out a long sigh while leaning against the cool tiled wall. I just couldn’t get any rest here, could I? Then I cut off the waterflow and opened the cabin door. A quick snatch at the bathrobe, one short dig through its pockets and then the pink woolly garb was flung carelessly on the floor. The cabindoor was closed and the water began to flow again. All the while the plug was still waking up demons in the pits of the abyss. Damn monster. I should have never bought it in the first place. But the blue was so adorable, gave a whole shine to the plastic.

I shut it up with a quick tap of the mute button with a thumb. Finally, silence, except for the more pleasant clatter of water. There was still a red light blinking on and off. Still calling, whoever it was.
“Oh, for crab’s sake. If this is a phone-to-phone salesman, I’m going to find his number and blow up his home with a railgun!” I snarled. My dutiful part had won the debate. I would answer the call. And so with my mind made up, I pressed the bluish orb as big as a tennisball against the wall at faceheight and waited for a moment while it unfolded its telescoping legs and glued itself to the wall through the wonderful principle of vaccuumsucking.

A green light drew a circle across its top which was now facing me. Then a 2-dimensional screen with the same colour as the light appeared and hovered right in front of my face. It gave me the choice of just answering the phone call, switching to audio only, adjusting the camera or just to emit a false ‘in conversation’ signal. My finger hovered over the last option for a second. But seriously, four minutes and then suddenly shooting towards in conversation? Who would believe that? Only a totally retarded foolish idiot would. And so my finger glided to the left, passing the camera adjustments and coming to audio only. Again I hesitated. Ok, I was under a shower, would it really make a difference if I kept a blank screen? People would still hear the water and figure it out by themselves.
“And I don’t want to give them a bad mental image.” I argued. So in the end I tapped the camera adjustments and had it continuously readjust its aim so that nothing below the neck was visible. There, no bad mental image and decency maintained. Finally I answered the call. Six minutes.

I rubbed some more soap into my hair while watching the face of who had called. Blond hair in a horribly spiky hairdo, blue eyes, multiple chins and smoking a huge unhealthy sigar? I rolled my eyes. Decency maintained and no bad mental images? Yeah, as if. Not while my boss was the biggest pervert this side of the galaxy. He couldn’t even go five seconds ever without shifting attention and stare at anything female that passed him by. This time was no different, and I had the bad luck of being the only thing female in sight. Usually I could dodge the bullet by simply lacking the ‘curves’. The only thing he was more passionate about than girls was his company’s products, which was the only thing that made him somewhat bearable.

“Hi, Emmy girl! Did I wake you up? I hope I didn’t, cau……..WOAH! You’re taking a shower! SSSWWEEEEEETTTTT! Quick, lower the camera angle. Come on, you know you want to!” I slapped the mute button and lowered the volume before releasing it. Taking a phonecall in someone else’s bathroom was bad enough, but taking a dirty and perverted phonecall in someone else’s bathroom was just too much. I still felt a blush creep up to my face and glared at my boss. Gah, just when was he ever going to grow up?!
“No way. I don’t wanna and I’m not gonna, not for a chance in the whole danged crystal-speckled universe, even if the core would freeze over! You’ll have to drop me off in hell before I’m going to show you anything below my chin!” I snapped at the solid holo.

He looked disappointed, good. He then grew a huge and overwhelmingly sadistic grin, not good.
“Aww, don’t be shy. You’re quite nice to look at, under all the flaws. Now if you just went for some small alterations, applied some makeup, you would be the hottest bombshell this side of Ibliss. And wait, I just remembered! We are in hell! So go on, show me! Oh, hold on a second. I’ll have to record this. Woot, people will drool when they see this!” He gloated. I glanced away.
“CAN WE CHANGE THE SUBJECT?!” I Squeeled with a very high-pitched voice. Ugh, I hate it when I do that. Nothing’s more embarrassing than sounding like a mouse on helium.
“EMMY, KEEP YOUR VOICE DOWN!” Oops, that was Peter.

My boss frowned, disappointed again. It was obvious to me that he’d heard Peter and drawn his conclusion. He wimpered, which made me grow a sadistic grin of my own.
“Ah, you’ve got guests. Just my luck. Why can’t I ever get the girl? Why? Is there some supreme being out there that just hates me?” He moaned.
“No, I think he just loves to see you squirm.” I dug into his wounded pride, pouring some extra salt into the sore spot.
“Now would you mind telling me why you had to make a phonecall? Because you realize that I’ll never believe you called simply to get a chance to doogle at my figure.” I added after a second.

The boss shrugged, a disinterested shrug.
“That? Why would it be any more important than doogling your figure? A feast for the eye always takes upper stage.” He spoke, adding another shrug.
“But enough with the mockery. Emmy, I called you simply because I’ve been worried about you.” He continued dead-serious. He, worried? Worried about what? That I’d lost even more curves? It was horribly confusing, so I asked him about it.
“You? Worried? About me? I thought you just said enough with the mockery?”

He looked pained. Oh, joy.
“Come on, mercy, please. We’ve been out of touch for three weeks. I know you needed some rest but I just want to know if you’re still doing ok. I got worried when you didn’t answer for six and a half minutes. I was worried.” He stammered. Then, he regained his ‘pervert’ expression. Big grin, nose tilted up, eyes wide open. A very creepy thing to see.
“But now I see there was no need. You’re doing so well, you actually invited someone over for some fun. Too bad it wasn’t me.” He smirked. My anger flared up again. Just a bit more, and I would go nova.
“It’s not like that!” I objected. Boss just leaned back in his leather seat and crossed his arms.
“Not like that? My, my. You sure were quick to deny. Do you know what it means?” I could kick myself again. This time I didn’t, I’d learned my lesson. But I did understood what he meant. In every show I enjoy watching, the guy or girl who loudly proclaims:‘ It’s not like that!’ ends up with the referred to character of the other gender. Sometimes at the end of the arc, other times a few episodes further, sometimes even in the very same episode and once even a mere two seconds after yelling the holy words! So I was rather agitated for saying the same thing.
“Dang you! I told you to change the subject! I didn’t invite anyone! My bathroom broke so I’m borrowing the neighbour’s, that’s all! End of story!”

End of story, not.
“The neighbour’s? Oh, I wished I had that on film. A threesome, cool!” Just why didn’t I kill him five years back? Cause he would refuse to stay dead, of course.
“Ok, I get it. You’re just some perverted sicko who only thinks with his pants! So you were worried, good. Nice to hear. Now I’m fine! And I….” I shut up. Oh, whatever. My shower had been ruined, what good was it to continue? I cut off the water and instead began to wring out my hair.

Splitch splitch

I would never get used to the waterfalls I could produce from my hair after a shower. It was simply insane.

Boss mused.
“I notice your hair has turned green. That, and it’s grown to shoulderlength. You didn’t use my budget for that, did you? Cause that would be just low. Oh, and you should use a hairdryer, speeds up things a bit.” He wondered out loud.
“Hairdryer takes ages at full wetness. Dangit, I’ve got like five full gallons soaked in it. And I did use your budget, for a good reason. It’s also a good deal longer than you can see. It’s kneelength, not shoulder.” I replied. I’d slightly bent over due to the wringing and was glad the camera had its automatic readjustment. Now I didn’t have to be careful about where I moved with the risk of exposing the wrong bits.
“Explain.” Boss simply ordered.
“It’s heat rejection. I’ve gotten a rewired neural net, switched over to self-exciting wormlines for signal transmission, recomposed bones to now be an artificial crystalline matrix, rebuilt musculature to include high-tension fibers complete with carbon igniters and finally tripled my nanitelevel to maintain all of it. Do you have any idea how hot I run? I would have a bodytemperature high enough to boil water! So running parallel with the neural net I’ve got nano-scale cooling tubes filled with some cooling-fluid produced by the tube’s walls. They go up through my hair which now functions as a big radiator. That’s also why it’s so long. More active surface for the heat transmission. On the whole, the whole thing wasn’t such a big deal. They’re only a few small changes, after all.”

I stopped. That was one huge understatement. Small changes, like hell! It hadn’t been the first time I went for surgery, nor the first time I’d gone for extensive surgery but this time had really topped all others big time. Five times my annual salary, all just to turn me into some sort of superhuman hybrid. And what for? I couldn’t even walk down the stairs now without pulling off a triple somersault and landing on my behind. It pissed me off. I shuddered. Now I was really creeped out with what I’d done. I was glad it didn’t change my looks any, beyond increasing my hair length and a change of tan. If I’d turned into the incredible Hulk, well, I would be pretty dang even more pissed than I already was.

“Aha. Right, very comprehensible all that. Damn you, girl! Do you think I can go run along that technobabblitus just like that? Shake it out of a sleeve? You’re crazy.” Boss sputtered. It made me loaf of bread an eyebrow.
“Technobabblitus? I don’t get it. The wormlines, the crystalline matrix, high-tension fibers, we already use it on the Zeph. While we’re on the subject, look into those carbon igniters. I think they could double or perhaps even triple the output. That would give a nice edge.” I responded indifferently.

Boss turned away from the camera.
“Sure, sure. I’ll do, I’ll do. It’s not like screwing over the budget half a dozen times matters. Shelling out some more UMU won’t make much of a difference now. So, think you can come to work today? We need to get back on track. After all, only two months left.” With that said, he simply hung up. I didn’t even get a chance to answer. Ah, well. He didn’t need to wait. It had already been obvious to him that I was sick of my forced vacation. I would go.

I dried myself off with the towel and debated whether or not to clean the bathroom. In the end I decided I would, if just to make a gesture. No matter how well I would clean, it wouldn’t be enough to satisfy Nance’s need for hygiene, but at least I’d tried.
“Had a good shower, Emmy dear?” Said hygiene-freak asked when I exited the room.
“Yup, thanks a lot. I’ve got to get dressed and off to work now, so see ya.” I replied with a thumbs up.

Chapter 5:

I tripped over a pillow back at my place. Maybe I should clean up and organize for a change. But that was something for later. First I had to get dressed. When I opened my closet, it occurred to me how limited my selection really was. All I had were dresses, kneelenght socks, some silken gloves, a belt with a big bow at the back and little sandals. And everything had frills all over. It was all happy and cutesy, nothing for if I were feeling down. I had only a minimal variety in style, but a large one in colour.

After half an hour, I’d narrowed down my selection to two of those colours. Hmm, pink or blue? Pink was pretty, but a bit too sweet for my taste at the moment. Blue on the other hand was breezy, and I didn’t quite feel breezy right now. My headache was coming back for one. So neither of the two were really it. Though they were the best of the bunch. I settled on blue. The memory of Boss’ perverted pleasure at talking with me over the phone while I was taking my shower still stuck in my mind. So if I came along dressed like a pink candy-fay, I would only excite him even more. Nah, in that case it was better to go with the innocent blue.

The rest of my wardrobe selection was easy and done within just ten minutes. First, white undergarments to cover torso and thighs for warmth, then white socks with little blue ribbons at the knees and ankles. Black sandals, decorated with a blue bow on top. Blue dress, with white frills and front. A deep green belt with a really big green bow on my back and finally a pair of light pink silken gloves with frilly edges. I entered my bathroom to check myself in the mirror. The first splash of my left foot changed my mind. I made a mental note to call the plumber as soon as I had time. Geez, another brand new bathroom. Did the world think that I had money growing out of my teeth or something?! I would have to settle with having my plug project an image of myself and check it out that way. It was smaller and slightly hazy, but it did have the advantage of being in full 3-d. I gave myself a good long check-up. I was pleased to note that I was in one word, adorable. Or, in fifty-nine words. Danged adorable and so frillity cute you wanna give me a hug and puke all at the same time cause it just causes major sensory overload that makes your brains explode and your kidneys shrivel up in horror at the pure awesomeness of my absolutely perfect outfit that is a great sign of my overwhelmingly well-developed sense of fashion.

7:67 am.

Not enough time to have a good breakfast. But I couldn’t go on with an empty stomach. It was growling like a pack of lions already. An hour or two longer, and the nanites would start to consume ‘non-essential’ parts of me in a bid to maintain full functionality of my body. Non-essential was not the same as ‘won’t make you feel unpleasant if not around’. There was no choice for me. I had to eat, during my trip. And I knew of only one place that could meet my needs and fulfill them for little money. The Hive.

A rather creepy name for a restaurant, makes you think of bugs. Well, that was exactly what it’s all about. Cause you see, bugs are The Hive’s specialty. Simply put, there is some kind of insect in every meal except for the drinks. Pretty cool. And the owner is one heck of a guy himself. I’m a regular there, come like every day, mostly because I don’t have a kitchen of my own.

“Yo, Anton! You in here?!” I shouted as soon as I’d opened the door. There were no other customers around but I hadn’t expected any either. Bugs weren’t exactly considered a delicacy among the majority of the population in this section of Ibliss. If Anton wanted to make big money, he should move about three thousand kilometers to the south, where bugs were big business and people would bug him day and night for a good meal. But I was glad he didn’t, cause then I’d have to take the tube every day for like two hours.

A chitinous black limb popped out from behind the door leading to the kitchen.
“Kook Kokkik, Kekky. Ko kook kokeky koka.” Anton clicked, which translated to: “Good morning, Emmy. You look lovely today” Yeah, it’s kinda hard to make yourself clear when your vocabulary tends to involve only a couple of varieties on the ‘k’. A moment afterwards, the rest of Anton revealed itself as well. I saw myself reflected a thousand times in those facetted eyes. With that big armoured black shell, huge ripping muscles, body split into three sections, six limbs, two waving antenna, those bulbous eyes and a giant beak, he looks rather fearsome but he is really a nice guy. If he wasn’t a huge ant, I would go for him in an instant. But I’m afraid that I’m more attracted to the softer, fleshy beings known as humans. They look more…….I dunno. Less likely to snap you in half by pure accident during a hug? For as much you can speak about me feeling attraction towards anything. I can’t remember having ever fallen for anyone, unless a childhood crush on Styx’ computer counts.

He’s also a bit of a scientific celebrity. Even after millions of years, he’s the only ant who actually developed enough of a sense of self to maintain a soul and thereby get to Ibliss. Weird.

I leaned on the counter, seemingly relaxed but really just terrified I would trip over my own feet and bang my head again.
“So, what’s the daily menu?” I asked. The cook simply waved one appendage at the holo to my right, as he always did. Greeting was possible, after I’d learned how to interpret his clicks. Listing a detailed menu and all the ingredients was something else entirely though. I scanned the luminescent words for a bit. Today’s menu were fried cockroachs, hollowed out and crammed with spiced meat from some kind of bird I’d never heard of before. That did sound like a weird combination, even for him. I shrugged. So far I’d enjoyed everything he made, so why would this time be any different?
“I’ll take it times three. Or wait, make that four. Could you pack it? I’m running a bit late for work already.”

I waited calmly as Anton rustled about in the kitchen, finally returning with three large bags. He put them on the counter and wiped off his forwardmost pair of manipulators on the ‘vest’ he wore. Even a total dimwit would see that someone like him simply can’t wear standard human clothing. There are simply too many anatomical differences. I passed my plug past a scanner to transfer the money to his account and left.

Still steaming bags in hand, I entered the tube and sat down in the sphere-shaped car, which instantly sped off without bothering to ask me where exactly I wanted to go. It’s all a matter of time. By the time I’d told it where I wanted to go, there would have been an average of fifteen people who had joined the line. So it was better to just get going and spin circles in the district’s low-velocity track than sit and cause a jam.

The inside of the car was predominantly white plastic, with black pillows at the rear arrayed in about one third of a full circle. None at the front. It would be bad for acceleration or decelleration. There was a large viewscreen that took up the whole front section not taken by the pillows. I put down my bags beside me while tapping the small control-surface on the armrests. The screen sprang to live, displaying the news