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914. alistairconnor - 1/26/2009 7:32:03 PM It had all gone perfectly, on a technical level. She had felt remorse in Hong Kong, seeing Alistair slumped on the pavement, and had nearly gone over to help him, but he had recovered pretty quickly. She had seen a lot in her thirty-odd hours in HK, but she was ready to move on by mid-afternoon the second day, when, according to her calculation, the sun was set to rise in Lyon.
But after twenty-four hours in Lyon, she'd had enough. Being able to stay Lit for several days was great -- she was legendary for her ability to party like no other -- but with all the walking, she was physically tired out. And the 50 euros she had changed didn't go very far. And most of all, she knew nobody and she didn't speak the language.
No problem : the return trip was supposed to be easy. The plan was to hang around the airport, befriend some New Zealanders, and brew a second potion with their involuntary help. It had been going pretty well with Barry and Keisha, she had easily gotten an organic sample, but then she realised that they were heading for Copenhagen. Her second try turned sour : they must have thought she was a bit weird, they shook her off. In truth, she was already unnerved, and that finished her off.
"So, Mum, what do I do now?" 915. NuPlanetOne - 1/26/2009 7:51:24 PM Many things wafted through Dr. Kronen's mind as he continued his lecture. All of the strange circumstance and coincidence, Cascu, Alistair's blood samples and credible tales of teen-age vampires. These, as well as the incident on the plane, combined to keep him ill at ease. He felt bad about injecting the stewardess, and hoped she would be fine, but it got him off the plane and more importantly, he was feeling himself after taking a dose of the anti-serum. His theory that blocking electrolytes in the central nervous system, especially the specific ones he had isolated, (and partially omitted from the formula he gave to Dr. Cascu), interfered with the process of teleporting as he now knows Alistair survived being taken at dawn and was instead still safe under the watchful eye of Cascu and his staff.
He would need to win over a majority of those present at the meeting, he decided, most prominent of which was Dr. Errin Davidson. She alone was the only living human being, he felt, who understood the concept and math involved with Super String Theory, as well as having been the only person entrusted to decipher Einstein's unpublished notes and personal scribbled rants against Quantum gravity. Here, she pieced together a startling revelation superseding the Master's published conclusions, Field Theories and all the implications derived from his Special and General theories of relativity.
She insisted that in analyzing his private notes and calculations where he sought to establish a 'Theory of Everything,' a quest that consumed all of his later years, she identified a few, apparently anecdotal revisions to his original Field Theories all with solutions that ended in futility and infinite dead ends. Yet upon having spent months trying to decipher each step within these side bars, she suddenly, as if in a trance, and with a slight perturbation in one double set of integers, a set the genius had highlighted, a whole series of cascading proofs washed over her like waves in the Bay of Fundy.
And she would have missed it, had it not been for the work she had done in helping to explain his work on capillary motion and critical opalescence, which, suffice to say, together, and in the context of transporting physical molecules intact, had a bizarre connection to some exotic anomalies he had conjectured in some equations he had worked out in describing his world shattering work in photoelectric effects.
The larger point, of course, was that if things such as worm holes and parallel universes could be derived as by products of his monumental equations and independent solutions to his Field Theories, then why not his daydream doodles concerning teleportation.
916. NuPlanetOne - 1/26/2009 7:51:38 PM Kronen knew these things would excite Ms. Davidson. He would just have to convince her of the biological framework of which he was the accepted authority, and she was aware that he had been a lone champion of her most recent work, panned universally, suggesting that at the quantum level de-materialization and re-materialization, in fact, occurred all the time. And ultimately, her assertion that a naturally occurring holographic effect inherent in photons allows for any object once illuminated to have a permanent frame by frame existence, observable, if you know how to detect it.
In other words, when you look at a hologram, it is not just a three dimensional reproduction you are viewing, rather, it is an actual object that exists within a phantom super string trail of that object as it moves about. For our Dr. Kronen, knowing that the Holographic Principle is the most profound insight to the basis and new foundation for string theory, getting Dr. Davidson on board, in all actuality, was his main priority. He believed she was the only theoretical physicist alive that would condescend to even hypothetically use her expertise and talents on a subject as arcane and fantastic as teleporting vampires. And as the lecture neared its end, from the look of intrigue on the unadorned, though quite attractive face of Errin Davidson, Kronen started to feel he might get the young genius to at least examine his evidence and assumptions. 917. alistairconnor - 1/27/2009 7:33:57 PM "Iancu, I have summoned you here to offer you a difficult and dangerous mission, if you decide to accept it."
"Thank you, Master Mirca. But I am here to do your bidding without question, whatever the nature of the mission."
"Thank you for your loyalty, lad. But please listen, and reserve your response."
Hank had never been to the top-floor Boardroom before. The empty room was imposing in the darkness, with its massive table and dozen ornate, heavy chairs. The impressive effect was somewhat weakened by the banal Bay Area nightscape visible from the panoramic windows.
Here, then, was the nexus, the very soul, of the small network of Silicon Valley start-ups that constituted the Organisation. Within these walls were determined, not only the economic orientations of the all-vampire business group, but the social and political actions that defined the Organisation's aspirations to leadership in vampire affairs.
Hank had had his first summer job in the Organisation, as a trainee programmer, when he was fifteen. As a Changer, he had no need to follow that route; he could, like his father, become an ordinary "good citizen", seamlessly integrated into American society. Probably it was loyalty to his mother, Coffed all day, a prisoner in their suburban house, that fuelled his adhesion to the Organisation, and made him passionate about the Mission : Vampire Liberation.
"Iancu, the Board is aware of your prowess : in technology, in traditional lore, and in the arts of ... proactive self-defense. Your are the cream of the crop, Iancu, the best of your generation. We expect great things of you. And I will not hide anything from you : this mission will be a test, not of your abilities, of which we have no doubt... but of your loyalty to the Organisation, and to our Higher Cause."
Hank knew that Master Mirca was one of a minority of "ordinary" vampires on the Board. Inevitably, the Changers and Perps, those who could freely navigate between the two worlds, were at an advantage in business experience, and in money matters. Despite the egalitarian priciples and social vocation of the Organisation, it surely rankled that the others were largely confined to subsidiary, technical roles. But the Organisation gave them such freedom, compared to their exceedingly limited opportunities in the outside world, that the "Coffers" (as some Changers and Perps disparagingly referred to them) were, without exception, fanatically devoted to the Organisation. And, by the same token, always inclined to doubt the loyalty of their Changer and Perp comrades.
"No, don't protest, Iancu. Listen. A renegade vampire has misused one of the Organisation's secret technologies. For the Higher Cause, it is essential that we keep the technology secret, and that we retain a monopoly over it. The acts of this renegade has imperilled the Organisation's very existence. To say nothing of the patent violations." 918. alistairconnor - 1/27/2009 7:36:17 PM Hank guessed that he was talking about the Teleportation technology. He knew that it was the brainchild of Master Mirka himself, or Mark Davidson, as he was known to the wider world (or more accurately, to that select circle of nuclear physicists who were aware of the work of the brilliant, secretive researcher).
"The mission is limpid in its simplicity, my boy." (Hank kept just enough ironic distance to laugh inwardly at the florid pomposity of the vampire in full flight; but at the same time, he was genuinely thrilled, caught in the moment.) "You are to track down the renegade and kill ... her."
"I will eliminate the renegade woman, Master Mirca."
"To be more precise : the renegade girl. The subject is seventeen years old. Some on the Board objected that you might fall in love with the girl, and turn renegade yourself! What do you think of that, Iancu?"
"Ridiculous, Master. I serve a Higher Cause, and the decision of the Board is absolute." His heart was racing.
"Good, Iancu, good... You know, of course, that should such an absurdly romantic thing occur, I would be obliged to track you both down and eliminate you myself."
Hank's blood ran cold. It was no empty threat : Mirca was the absolute master of their "proactive self-defense" training, a veritable killing machine. He realised then that Mirca envied and hated him, and had put him up to an impossible dilemma in order to destroy him.
Three options :
Track down this girl and kill her (Mirca clearly didn't think him capable of it).
Go renegade, with or without the girl. And they would both die.
Or turn down the mission. And lose the confidence of the Board, of the Organisation. 919. alistairconnor - 1/28/2009 8:03:30 PM While waiting for the bus, Courtney noticed a shop on the other side of the street, called "Pompes Funèbres Générales".
She spent several minutes looking wistfully at the window displays. Almost drooling, to be honest. People passing by started giving her funny looks. But then her bus arrived.
Her mother had told her off, of course. Not for being on her own in Europe without authorisation -- that was just a prank -- but for using powerful vampire lore. She had sounded very scared indeed to Courtney, and wouldn't explain why. She had absolutely forbidden any repeat attempt at the teleportation trick.
"Well, what about this guy, Alistair? Is he reliable? He's Ruth's brother, right?"
"Yes, he's OK - a bit whack, but ... well, Ruth trusts him and all."
"Then you'll just have to throw yourself on his mercy. Turn up on his doorstep and tell him some bullshit story about a ski holiday that went wrong. The hardest part will be getting a coffin. My poor darling, you must be feeling awful..."
During the journey, she started getting alarmed that they weren't getting very close to her destination... She asked the driver, in attempted French, which stop would be the closest to Marcenod.
He answered in bad English (but better than her French) : "That last one, I think. About ten kilometers. But I'm going there myself after work, I can take you."
At last, a break, she thought. Unless he's a creep? 920. NuPlanetOne - 1/29/2009 2:50:14 AM alistair,
Nice work. You're 'write on the fly' ability is becoming quite impressive! I love the valley girl vamp angle, it will allow for some super-slayer-like girl type options, and I already get a sense that Courtney will be on the good side of the dark side of the plot. Is your Mr. Davidson and my Ms. Davidson a coincidental naming? Or do you have a plan there? When you take your next break from scribbling refer back to the present scene in the underground meeting and Jen or I will wrap up and tie in the lecture to the narrative. Carry on! 921. alistairconnor - 1/29/2009 8:19:26 PM When Hank came back the next day to pick up his equipment for the assignment, he was received by another Board member, a Perp, Peter Brown.
"This laptop, Iancu, looks like an ordinary Dell. And it functions like one too, well-loaded -- roaming internet, GPS, and so on -- but most of the electronics in the case is in fact a miniaturised directional vampire detector. It only has a range of about ten miles, but the software integrates with Google maps, so once you are in the area, you should easily be able to target your subject."
Hank booted up the computer. Nothing to distinguish it from an ordinary one... "Yes, it will fool airport security easily enough", said Brown.
Airport security? Hank had hoped -- naively, he now realised -- that they would allow him to teleport. But no, here were his tickets to Lyon, via London.
The portable coffin was pretty cool too. Quite heavy, and it filled most of his backpack, but the hinged, bevelled panels snapped together in seconds, and the solidity and comfort were astounding.
The weapons and accessories were also of the finest quality.
"Er - Master Petru? I see I have one week in Lyon, to accomplish my mission. But then, one week in London on the way back?"
"Ah, yes, you have a second mission in England : to eliminate a nuclear physicist, a certain Dr Errin Davidson. She has been getting too close to certain domains on which we intend to enforce an effective monopoly."
"But Master Mirca did not mention this second mission?"
"The Board decided to exclude Mark from this particular decision, because of a potential for conflict of interest. Dr Davidson is a non-vampire, but nevertheless his sister." 922. alistairConnor - 1/31/2009 12:00:43 AM After the phone call to Dumitra, they couldn't leave Sorin on his own. Some old bottles were cleared out from the back of the drinks cabinet, and significant bonding occurred.
Alistair was of the opinion that he should go and get her -- drag her by the hair, if necessary; kicking and screaming, preferably; back to France. On the basis that she, at least, didn't believe in vampires, and was therefore the only sane person they had been in touch with all day.
Halima was more pragmatic. "Crystal meth is a bitch. Not impossible to break away from, but really really hard. Requires lots of motivation, and preferably a clean break from the old environment. We can look after her while she dries out, if she wants to. But can she get a job here, Sorin?"
"The French hospital system is very hard to break into, for foreign doctors. It might take us a long time to get her a job. I'm not sure she would be motivated enough to wait."
"What about the vampire-hunting business?" said Alistair, serving another round. "Is there any money in that?" 923. Jenerator - 1/31/2009 4:18:06 PM (I have some serious catching up to do!) 924. Jenerator - 1/31/2009 4:43:19 PM Kronen was exhausted from his incredibly long journey. First the incident at the Hong Kong airport, and then the confrontation with the flight attendant on route to London - all of it seemed like a distant dream.
He had presented his theories with such vigor and enthusiasm that he knew that he needed to get rest soon, or the effects of the antiserum would weaken. He hoped that Ms. Davidson would offer refuge in her flat, but he knew that that would be too forward, and she was not the type to sex up a stranger - though that was what he secretly wanted.
She was tall and slender. Her stylish black glasses accentuated her prominent cheekbones and crystal blue eyes. Talking about Holographic Technology had never been so exciting to him before. Davidson's youth, beauty and naivete added a new dimension to his quest. Perhaps she would fall in love with him?
He was getting slightly delirious, and it must have shown because Davidson ran back to the doctor and asked him if he was alright.
"Do you have a place to stay tonight, Dr. Kronen?" she asked.
"My agent forgot to book a room and I don't know my way around London. Perhaps you could recommend a place," he said.
"Well, I live in the country, about an hour's trainride from here. Come with me; there is a tiny bed and breakfast in my village," she smiled at him.
"Alright, but please, call me Gustav," he said.
925. alistairConnor - 2/1/2009 4:20:42 PM [Just a note about the timing, before we go off the rails, which is easy to do in a collaborative effort. For me, everything described so far has happened in less than a week, mid-January. i.e. Kronen was on his way to his London conference when he crossed paths with Alistair in Frankfurt.
One little error already: Courtney must have spent at least 48hrs in Lyon, not 24 hrs.] 926. alistairConnor - 2/1/2009 5:13:33 PM At breakfast the following day, Alistair, still completely sceptical about the vampire affair, challenged Halima :
"Well, what about your fabulous international address book? Surely, among all the high-placed officials you know, you can find a friend or acquaintance who knows something about vampires?"
She took the bait, and spent most of the day busy with her Blackberry. The results were somewhat disappointing. Gunter, a friend in the Austrian police, had a story about immigrant-sniffer dogs who found six occupied coffins in a refrigerated truck from Rumania. By the time they were transported to the nearest morgue, the coffins were empty. "Inconclusive", ruled Alistair.
A friend in the FBI seemed to know something, and offered to find out more, but when he called back it was clear that he couldn't say anything for security reasons. Intriguing and frustrating, but "still inconclusive".
Then, in the late afternoon, Halima said : "I might as well try Svetlana, she's highly placed at the World Health Organisation. Who knows, perhaps they have a relevant program ?" "Probably an affirmative action program for vampires", Alistair suggested.
She called Svetlana, and they spent five minutes shrieking and cackling about a night, or several nights, on the vodka in 2006. Alistair had come to expect and accept this kind of introductory ritual, when Halima called old friends. It was that sort of address book.
Svetlana snorted and giggled about the vampire thing, and said that it was not unlikely they had something, she would call back after checking with a friend who managed a whole branch of the organisation which ran dozens of outlandish and unlikely programs, from African bush doctoring to Native American spirit healing, and a highly-politicised European Wiccan program.
She called back with the news that there was indeed an allocated budget and offices in Geneva, but that no credible takers had responded to the published expression-of-interest process. There had been a Serbian group, but some of them had documented links to organised crime, and another was a wanted war criminal. Despite insistent invitations, the governments of Rumania and Hungary had declined to participate or to sponsor any national organisations or individuals.
"So, ther's a budget of several million dollars there for the taking, if Sorin can put together a solid business case!" said Halima.
"And perhaps a job for Dumitra, if she can get over her prejudice against vampires." suggested Alistair. 927. alistairconnor - 2/3/2009 2:17:43 PM That evening, as they were preparing dinner, Alistair suddenly became restless. He paced up and down, sat down and stood up abruptly, held his head in his hands.
"What's wrong?" asked Halima.
"I need to... I need to... "
"Vomit? Have a pee? ..."
"I must...."
He bolted for the front door and went out, bumping into a girl who was standing forlornly in the courtyard.
"Courtney! What the heck are you doing here? Come in, you look exhausted!"
He took her inside and introduced her to Halima, who had seen her in photos from Alistair's recent holiday.
Courtney told some barely-coherent story about hooking up with some boys from New Zealand who had been snowboarding in Austria, but there had been a mix-up in the dates. She did indeed look exhausted, perhaps ill. They told her that a doctor would be dropping in soon, which seemed to alarm her.
Alistair was looking very contented, but soon became agitated again. Cascu arrived -- he was invited for dinner. He immediately took Alistair aside, they went to the living room : "Are you aware that this girl is a vampire?"
"WHAT? Oh stop it. This is Courtney! She's practically family. And she needs ... I have to get her ... some wood. Something... a box. A wooden box?"
Cascu almost giggled. "Yes, she visibly needs a coffin, very badly. Let's go and get one, your van will do the job. I'll make a couple of phone calls on the way."
They came back to the kitchen to find Courtney sobbing in Halima's arms. "She claims she's a vampire, and that she followed you here from New Zealand."
"We'll talk about that later!" said Alistair urgently. "We're going to get a, a coffin!"
They were back in little more than an hour. In that time, Cascu explained about the Imperative effect, which was visibly working very strongly on Alistair. "She didn't even need to express her wishes. That would seem to indicate that her natural vampire powers are very strong."
"Then she could make Halima do anything? She's infected too remember! Is it safe to leave them together?"
"No, infection is not enough. The vampire also has to prepare and ingest a serum, using organic material from the infected person... The girl is visibly in no state to do that."
When they got back with the coffin, Courtney was trembling, and barely able to walk. They installed it in one of the girls' rooms, and Courtney eagerly laid down in it and ... went out like a light.
"I didn't have time to ask her about her cycle : depending on individuals, vampires of her type can stay awake for anything from a day or two to a week, and their coffin time is proportional. Considering what she's been through in the past week, I would expect her to stay in that state for at least 48 hours."
"That state... " Halima touched her face. "She's cold, doctor! Can you check her pulse?"
Reluctantly, Cascu replied : "I don't expect I'll be able to find one. Don't be alarmed, it's part of her natural cycle." 928. alistairconnor - 2/3/2009 2:27:08 PM The phone rang. "It may be her mother, I left a message on her cell phone." said Halima. Alistair answered, almost screaming : "Courtney is dead!"
Lara answered calmly : "You mean she's lying in a coffin?"
"Yes! and she's..."
"And her skin is cold, no pulse, doesn't appear to be breathing? That's OK, Alistair. I understand your distress, but please believe me : Courtney has done that, two or three times a week, since puberty. She generally wakes after ten or twelve hours, but in the circumstances, it could be a couple of days. Listen, I'm a friend of Ruth's, you can ask her about me."
"Does she know about the vampire stuff?"
"Well... Not really. She knows there's something unusual about Courtney and me, she's covered for me before, and she keeps an eye on Courtney, but she knows I'm reluctant to talk about it and she has never asked for details... Ruth is good like that. A good friend. And Courtney is a good girl, you have nothing to fear from her... directly. But what she has done is very stupid, and may have dangerous consequences."
Alistair felt seriously out of his depth. He explained that Dr Cascu was on the case, and handed her over to him. His head spinning, he asked Halima to hold him tight... "I think I need to vomit. Or maybe I just need to pee." 929. webfeet - 2/3/2009 6:45:25 PM Dawn broke over Manhattan as the dark sedan glided up the empty avenue. It was a ghost city, the half-dead walking among the living at this hour; the early risers and dog walkers out for jogs in between the derelicts and madmen who haunted the city while it slept. A silent, invisible workforce moved among them like shadows, vanishing into the air, like the gray steam rising from the potholes. A belching, blackened underground terrain beneath them, the land of the dead, stirred quietly as the city came to life and the black sedan continued its silent course crossing the potter’s field, that was now midtown.
Her papers and files spread next to her in the backseat, Susan continued to work. The jolting pace of the morning already put her in a foul temper. Rising at four am to feed Maximus, she’d felt the pinch of her nipples, as the tiny baby sucked, reminding her of the painful early days of breastfeeding when it wasn’t milk that she produced but colustrum. And she wanted to scream. She’d wanted to pluck him from her teat and and put him back in his crib while she climbed back into bed and block the sound of his shrieks with the ear plugs she’d been given on the flight home from Japan. But she hadn’t. After being fed, she burped him, and sat, restlessly checking her messages on her blackberry while Jonas stood in his robe, sleepily making her coffee. Then, showered and dressed, a half hour later, she’d slipped out into the dark morning into the waiting sedan and left. And now, the familiar, faint sour odor of breast milk rose from the lace nursing bra under her jacket, nearly overpowering her usual scent, “Poison” by Dior. It seemed she could never escape.
The sedan came to a halt at the stoplight, and she glanced at the driver. She could only see the thick stub of his neck, reminding her of a Chechnyan torturer, like the one whose face she’d seen in the paper Sunday morning his eyes locked with the cameras. Two sockets staring back. Now the driver met her gaze through the rear view mirror and Susan looked away, annoyed, sending him a glance of subtle disgust. A moment later, the light changed, the car lurched forward and Susan felt the familiar jump to life as the sedan turned onto west sixty-sixth street.
The driver pulled up to the curb in front of the studio. She gathered her papers, tucked her files into her Vuitton attaché, then wrapped the trenchcoat around her, as the driver opened the door from the sidewalk. But the belt of the trench had come loose, as she’d stepped out, and the driver caught a luxurious glimpse of her silky legs which appeared barelegged in her flesh-colored hose, and imagined them twisted around his neck, while he took her on the dark red carpeted floor of the car.
930. webfeet - 2/3/2009 6:48:56 PM Wrapping the trench tightly around her, Susan walked purposefully past him as if he were a lamppost, and felt the exhilarating rush as she swung through the doors of the studios, as she’d done for the last fifteen years. The guards greeted her as she entered, beaming “Good morning” as she breezed past them toward the elevator doors, which opened, as if waiting for her. As cozy as a club, one in which she was an exclusive member, having worked her way up after college as an intern, she smiled to herself at the comfortable thought of her desk, her notes, and the thrill that lay ahead of lining up another show. This was it. This was what made it worth it. It was the one true place she could call home.
“What’s the line up?” she asked, stifling a yawn as she sat at her desk, facing Robin, her production assistant. “Fatties, sex addicts or that fat little chef, the one who looks like a muppet.“
“Vampires.” Robin said, pressing the edges of a folder that sat on her lap.
Vampires? Weren't we all vampires? Hadn't she been the one to wake before the crack of dawn and want to disappear into the silken folds of a coffin that morning?
“Give me that folder,” she sneered. Lowering her eyes, Robin handed it to her boss, who, after snatching it from her hands, roved the memo impatiently.
“Who is this quack? Dr. Kronen? Great. Another panel of weirdos..”
Her phone lit up. It was Ken, her secretary, on the line. “Sue, you’ve got a call.”
“Who is it?”
“It’s your nanny.”
She paused, weighing for a second whether or not to pick up. "Tell her I'll call her back," she said, hanging up. Then, she turned to Robin. "Now talk to me about vampires."
931. alistairconnor - 2/3/2009 7:17:35 PM [Ahaaaa! Working title : Revenge of the vampire-haters!] 932. webfeet - 2/3/2009 9:43:25 PM [yes, I decided to come out of my coffin...crrreeeaaaak. followed by flapping sounds. It's like being in Ricky's Halloween shop,just hold on a sec while I put on green make-up and stick on my black press-on nails.]
933. alistairConnor - 2/4/2009 11:34:08 PM [I now realize I have egomaniacally centred most of the action on my place. I will send them all away soon, and you other authors can have some fun with the characters. I will just launch one more thread, wrap up the business at my place, then wait for you people to create some openings...]
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