Chapitre 111: Wake-up Call – Chapter 107
[Dragon]
I feel… out of sorts.
Unlike Lisa.
"Yes! Suck it, Tagg!" she says, pumping her fist exaggeratedly enough that her seat on the wall of my latest carrier bobbles.
"Okay. Now tell him that face to face," Taylor drily comments from her right.
"Tell him what? That we just dismantled an entire AI-driven exclusion zone with the power of friendship and a flawlessly executed [Thinker seven's] plan? Why, don't mind if I do."
"No, no," [Alec,] on the other side of the carrier, intervenes with his careless air that barely disguises the burgeoning smirk. "I think Tay-Tay here was talking about how she wants you to walk up to the regional PRT Director and tell him to suck on your—[gah!] How—we're flying through the clouds! How do you have flies in here?!"
Taylor doesn't reply. Unless one counts a stare flat enough to disprove any flat-earther's claims as a response. Which I guess I should.
"Alec… She's… [really]?" Brian asks, looking at the young man sitting to his left in exasperation before sighing in a way that I'm quickly coming to associate with older family members.
For nor reason whatsoever. Particularly not for blonde reasons who may tend to run their mouth faster than even their parahuman-enhanced cognition can keep up with.
Aaaaand now my body's sighing. Which is still a somewhat novel experience, even if I fear I'll be used to it by the time the trip back to Brockton is over.
"Brutus is going to puke," Rachel calmly remarks as the Rottweiler lying at her feet stands on tremulous legs with his chest heaving almost violently.
"[Again?"] Lisa asks before I can.
"Not used to flying," Rachel replies as Brian takes off his safety harness and rushes to the trash bin I took the precaution to install behind the cockpit and the many, [many] bags that have been filled through this journey to and back from Eagleton.
He, thankfully, for once, manages to get the big dog to empty whatever he hadn't already vacated into the trash bag without any of it spilling on my floor as Taylor looks stoically green and Lisa protests about a dog used to jumping between buildings having motion sickness, of all things.
She may have a point. Both Angelica and Judas are peacefully snoring near my rumbling reactor core.
… Yes, I've been taking pictures.
Dogs are adorable, and that's a far easier truth to defend than the actual shape of the planet, for reasons no amount of Internet browsing will ever clarify.
***
Almost all the Undersiders and former Undersiders hurry to get off my ship as soon as I land on Brockton Bay's ship graveyard, save for the one exception I am always ready to believe will be exceptional.
"Hey, I just… Thank you. This can't have been easy for you," Lisa says, her head peeking into my cockpit as I pretend to do something useful with my hands going over the controls and displays of what is actually another body of mine, even if one that I'm far less attached to than to the organic woman sitting on a chair I'm now getting some intimate insight into how to better design.
"Don't mention it," I say. "It's not…"
I look up from a display showing me just how unstable the cracked concrete under this ship is and how I need to shift the landing gear to avoid any accidents, and when I do, I meet the caring eyes of a blonde girl who has lived too much.
I can't help but answer her smile.
"You don't have to pretend to be stronger than you are, Dragon. Not you, of all people," she says.
And then she walks in and sits on a co-pilot seat that is even more superfluous than the pilot one.
"Don't you have things to do? People to brag to?" I ask with a bit of a teasing tone.
"Family takes precedence," she answers with a sincerity that stabs right through me.
"Thank you," I whisper, holding her offered hand in the space between us.
"You're welcome. You're always welcome."
"Now kiss," says Alec.
Which is an excellent distraction from the uncomfortable topic Lisa was trying to help me through and a [perfect] excuse for me to test the fire sprinklers in the passenger module.
"Gah! What is it with you women and physical abuse?! And from a fellow Canadian of all people!"
"Get out before I test which kind of bug bite you're allergic to," Taylor's swarm says from the dry recesses of my ship.
"Kinky," he, of course, answers.
Which is when I send a mental command and slam the cockpit's doors shut.
"You were perfectly aware he was listening in," Lisa says after the metallic echo fades.
"I don't know what you're talking about," I shoot back.
She answers me with a frankly unimpressed stare that doesn't speak volumes because this much data needs some compression to fit in so little time, so it actually speaks in screeching dial-up modem noises.
"You [also] knew he would listen in," I defensively point out.
And raise an eyebrow when she sighs.
… I'm also rather fond of the eyebrows. I never quite realized how fun they were when I manipulated my avatar.
"Believe it or not, I didn't," she says.
My eyebrow shifts slightly, denoting inquiry rather than wry curiosity.
[Fun].
… I shouldn't examine this while the Thinker's looking straight at me.
"Power is… He's been easing up on unnecessary data. He lets me be surprised. Thinks it's a fundamental part of human interactions so long as it isn't harmful," she explains before leaning back on the plush chair and sinking into it as she slowly slides down the backrest until her neck is at an angle that I'm sure her older self will never be comfortable in.
That is, if I let her age.
… And that's [also] a thing I shouldn't be pondering while in her presence.
"Power sounds like he's growing up nicely," I instead offer. "His big sister must've been a good influence.
Lisa, for some reason that likely has to do with internal voices, rapidly goes from surprised blinking to softly smiling and then, finally, an exasperated eye-roll that doesn't take away from the smile.
"Okay, fine, you two are gonna make me sappy. So, in the interest of avoiding yet another instance of me breaking down into an enveloping hug, let me ask you about that subject you're trying to avoid so hard—"
"It wasn't like me, Lisa," I say.
Her hand once again reaches for mine and squeezes me tightly—just tightly enough for me to feel it as such. No more, no less.
Thinkers are, as is often said, bullshit, after all.
"Of course it wasn't. Nobody will ever be like you," she says, going right to the heart of the matter yet managing to sound flattering and supportive.
I return the squeeze.
"It's… I didn't hope. Not really. Didn't even realize the thought was there until we made contact and I analyzed the drone you captured."
"And it wasn't anything like you," she says, turning her head toward me without straightening up, the smile on her face somewhat tired.
"Not at all," I unnecessarily tell her.
"I can't even—no. No, I kind of can. It's… Look, I'm not trying to make this about me, all right? I want you to know this, that this conversation is about you because you [deserve it]. But… but I think we all are a bit alike in this regard. You know how I think. You know how Taylor can do things that even you would struggle with. You know about Dinah. And… yeah, it's not the same because you don't see yourself as having been born a human, but…"
She takes my hand and uses it to pull herself up, sitting sideways on the chair just to fully face me with an eager, almost desperate energy in her eyes that makes me hold my breath until she speaks again.
"But I don't care, Dragon. I don't care that you weren't born a human because, long before you became one, you were born a [person]."
I look at her. At this girl I know thinks of me as a mother figure.
And a part of me is sad that she's grown up so fast.
***
"Glad you could join us," Tagg says from the monitor I conjure in a mind-space that is…
Different.
Different from what I used to have when this was my whole world, my only window to interact with others.
It's no longer a jumbled mess of connections, of data scarcely conceptualized, of raw input that I only decoded to the barest degree I needed to, both to lessen the burden on my processors and to make Saint's life just a bit harder.
It's…
I have a room.
An entire flat.
It has a nice view of the mountain range surrounding my main lab up north, and I can open the windows to let the virtual breeze and simulated scents of the forest in, the chill air making my cheeks tingle in a way that is still pleasant, particularly when I take a step back and walk on woolen socks into the room until I get a blast of the fireplace to warm me again, enveloped by the smoke of burning pine that is fragrant enough to overpower the forest behind me as I pace around the circular blue sofa that surrounds the open fireplace with the video screens of the conference participants following me around.
In what is also the real word, but in a different way, my biological body sinks into the pilot's seat as one of my mechanical bodies carries me on a slow fly over a deep blue sea minutes away from the Boat Graveyard.
"You could be a bit more grateful to the woman instrumental in solving one of the biggest threats to your country, Tagg," Narwhal says from her own screen floating to my left, the blue scales of force around the bridge of her nose moving in that pattern I know she uses when trying to get some relief without overtly signaling so.
… I may also have some rather unnecessary insights into the masturbatory habits of my teammate, but that is an issue that I'd rather not think about while [technically] alone in my apartment in front of a fireplace that I just now realized could be rather sensual for—darn it.
I blame Hannah.
Hannah and Minnie. [Most definitely] Minnie.
"Oh, I'm grateful enough for [that], but every minute of this conversation that stretches beyond the time I allotted for it is one more minute that my wife and that goddamn poolboy get to themselves," Tagg says.
Narwhal, for some reason I'd rather not inquire on, lets out a deep sigh and looks at me with clear resentment.
"I wasn't [that] late," I protest while feeling my biological body flush ever so slightly.
"[An eternity], Dragon. An eternity," she says.
I offer a nervous smile in answer to what I hope is a joke. She doesn't return it.
"Come on, people; my private detective charges me by the hour!" Tagg says.
"Wouldn't a therapist be a better investment?" Narwhal shoots back.
"I tried couples counseling, but then the quack banned me from her office and got a restraining order. She was clearly in league with the chlorinated twink. Possibly subverted through a honeypot plot."
I blink at the screen, then at Narwhal, who, right now, is very visibly massaging her temples through layers of Endbringer-grade forcefields.
And I've got the slight inkling that the negotiations regarding my relocation to Brockton Bay may be somewhat more complicated than anticipated.
***
I can't believe I'm even thinking this, but I should've listened to Lisa.
['No, he's not a parahuman. That makes it worse.']
Let it never be said that she likes to exaggerate.
***
"I've got a patrol scheduled, and Minnie's joining me to get the public prepped for the reveal about her relocation," Hannah says through a phone that I've tweaked so I can always hear it like she's whispering in my ear.
Me? Frivolous in the usage of my cyberaugmentations? I would [never]—
… Okay, that [may] be slightly frivolous, but really, I can allow myself some indulgences, can't I?
"Right. That's… a thing that's happening," I say as if I wasn't keenly aware of how Minnie's temporary visit to support Hannah in her time of need is quickly turning into something that will require [logistics].
And scheduling.
"Colin wanted to show you something in his lab, though. I don't think you'll have the time to feel lonely," she says with a teasing lilt that makes the body still sitting in a superfluous cockpit blush in a way that's quickly losing its novelty value the more time I spend with the three people I'm about to move in with.
Now that I've got permission from both the USA and Canadian governments to do so.
"What are you implying?" I ask a woman who delights too much in teasing others, seeing how quickly her power turns into things to be used [on her].
"Implying? Nothing. Absolutely nothing at all. After all, what could be romantic at all about an underwater secret lab?"
I close my eyes and, in a very Narwhal way, massage my temples.
"I swear, Hannah, this better not be—"
"Talk with him. It can be whatever you want it to be."
And she hangs up.
On me.
On [Dragon].
… I'm almost impressed, truth be told.
Still, I can somewhat excuse her, seeing as her phone is now moving at high speed through the former E88's territory while Minnie's phone keeps jumping in short-range teleports right ahead of Hannah.
So, either they're chasing a suspect or one another, and… well, I…
Yes. I can excuse both things.
I shift my consciousness and slide away from my carrier, allowing my human body to actually take control as I gently glide toward the Protectorate rig using skills that I once decided to train on a videogame, of all things.
The community appreciated the mods I made quite a bit before they were taken down for making use of classified data.
In my defense, I didn't even think to censor those maps. It may be one of the very few times I've done something illegal, and it, of course, was because I wasn't aware I was doing so.
But… well. I no longer have those issues, do I? I could easily do something like… Underage drinking? Does that even count in my case?
…
Let's pretend it does.
And… I guess champagne may be in order for whatever it is that Colin has planned for today. That is, if he really has planned something and this isn't Hannah pushing [me] to take the step, even if I'm not even sure about whether or not I'm ready because I don't understand what being ready would mean and how I could [not] be after everything we've already done and gone through, and…
And… And I think feeling this nervous and unsure [may] be a sign that I'm not ready.
So I keep mulling over this. About what it means or not taking that step with Colin when we already had our first time in almost all the ways that matter that night I shared him with Hannah after the date I pushed them on, enjoying the pleasure they took from one another in ways I had never dared hope.
That night we three made… use of his lab.
The very lab that I'm supposed to meet him in.
I don't stop thinking about it as I land on the roof of the Rig, the forcefield letting me in like it always has since I first decided to help in one of Brockton's many, [many] crises what feels like an entire lifetime ago, the intriguing local Tinker a small incentive to come to see for myself what all the fuss was about, and…
And, well…
The rest is history.
Or it will be as soon as this stupid waste of tinkertech resources some people call an elevator gets me down to where he's waiting for me, and we can [talk] about why I am feeling so anxious about something we've already done in some ways and seen him do in [plenty] of ways thanks to Minnie and Hanah's most unrestrained impulses, and if maybe we're moving too fast, or too slow, and if he wants [me], because I can make a body custom-built to his tastes if that's what it really takes, but I feel like I shouldn't have to do that, even if I just hope that he [doesn't] want me to do that, and I'm running somewhat insane enough that I feel like maybe taking a look at all the processes I've automated that could do with a personal touch, including the tests on his Behemoth-tier bike that—
I think that I'm having a panic attack.
And, of course, that's when the stupid elevator reaches his floor.
All right. All right. Just… take a deep breath. Get out of the claustrophobic metal coffin and into the claustrophobic metal corridor. Just think about all those things Lisa has sometimes ranted about. Center my thoughts and feelings on my body—on [this] body. Tactile sensations. Biofeedback. A sense of presence.
I can do this.
I can talk to my [boyfriend] about how we feel about having sex.
… Out of all the things you left written in that stupid letter, I would've appreciated some advice about [boys], Dad.
But, well, it's not exactly about [boys], but about this particular boy, and I don't even understand why this feels so different from just embracing Hannah and sharing long nights with one another when we were alone and waiting for you to wake up, you insufferable, intractable [man].
It shouldn't be any different.
It should be… just as natural. Just as effortless. Just like it felt to fall asleep in your arms, giggling at you pretending that Data wasn't also your favorite character—or being sincere about it, I don't even care. I just…
I just…
I don't want to be so worried about something I should want. Something I do want.
It should be as easy as it was to fall in love with you.
And…
And I think about it. About long nights spent a country apart, talking with a bright man who painted a world of future marvels with every gesture and word. Of quiet times of shared grief. Of panic and fear, and the [rush] of triumph for the sake of others.
About how you seemed to slip away not long ago, becoming someone you should never have been until a bright, hurt blonde dragged you away from the edge in a way I didn't realize could be done.
About… about the life that is now possible for us. The one we never talked about, even if we sometimes alluded to it without ever going beyond lingering glances and words that had underlying yearnings.
About you and me stepping into that bright future you always craved for.
I don't know. I don't know what being ready is or what it feels like. I don't know if I can even feel it. I don't know if I should have my first time today of all days.
But…
But I know I love him. That I am in love with him.
So I take a deep breath that doesn't feel forced. That isn't me just going through a routine of dubious efficacy, given how much of my nervous system has been replaced with the technology needed for this body to integrate seamlessly with my greater consciousness.
I breathe in sterile air circulated through the underwater part of the Rig as I walk toward the one place in the world I have spent more nights in other than my own facilities. My home away from home when my body was merely the data I could send away and toward him, even if he never quite realized how close to him I was.
And I reach for the number pad that—
"I cracked it!" the maddened man says, the sliding doors rushing open faster than I thought they could as he brandishes a pair of over-engineered goggles at me.
I stare at him.
"Oh, Dragon? Back so soon? How was Eagleton? Never mind! I finally—"
I take the anti-blinking tech from his hand, my own eyes twitching yet not blinking, and I try very hard to remind myself that I love this man [because] of his idiosyncrasies rather than in spite of them.
It's a bit of a struggle.
But I'm used to struggling.
=====================
So. This was one of my experiments in keeping chapters at a manageable length in preparation for making a regular schedule possible yet again, which meant splitting the chapter from it obvious continuation.
Said continuation ended up being 10k words long.
Yay.
Also, for those of you who read Ginosko (my original cyberpunk bondage novel, for those of you who didn't read it), some familiar themes may come up in there.
But, well, that's just regarding chapter 108. As to chapter 109, the one I just finished?
Wake-up Call – Chapter 109 – A Few Years Later
Yes, that means precisely what you think it means.
I hope I stick the landing, because it's coming fast.
As always, I'd like to thank my credited supporters on Patreon (https://www.patreon.com/Agrippa?fan_landing=true): aj0413, LearningDiscord, Niklarus, Tinkerware, Varosch, and Xalgeon. If you feel like maybe giving them a hand with keeping me in the writing business (and getting an early peek at my chapters before they go public, among other perks), consider joining them or buying one of my books on https://www.amazon.com/stores/Terry-Lavere/author/B0BL7LSX2S. Thank you for reading!
État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone