Chapter 2 below the fold. Friday afternoon to Saturday morning. Bonus CU content: I try to make sense of the Canada Zone in CO.
Tuesday, May 31, 2011
Friday, May 27, 2011
Pearls of Wisdom
More of my themes than one converged at a buffet table I attended on Sunday. It's banal, even disrespectful, to be struck first of three pearls of wisdom that I ate pickled pearl onions at a memorial service, because this is why one sometimes recoils at the phrase, "celebration of life." The mind makes trivia out of solemn events, and so I was struck to only then learn that she had been christianed Pearl. Pearl is dead, and people are sad. They should be. For all that she was born in the middle of the First World War, and that she has been slipping away from us for a very long time, she is still gone. (Better had I phrased this idea of a celebration in terms of the niece and the nephew. Pearl was dear to me because she was precious to my cousins and it seems fitting that we all take these opportunities to give the next generation a chance to be with their cousins. Children playing. Now that is celebration.)
A second pearl; If you knew Pearl, you will be wondering why I am calling her that, and not the name that she chose for herself. It is so that you can take as much or as little intimacy as you like in the way of the Internet, but also to highlight that we can and do choose our names, if we are wise.
So I have family, and semi-anonymity on the plate as well as my other themes. For a reason; I recall, some years ago, a relative that I will not name (as far as I am concerned, this is memory playing tricks, and there is no relative to name, or blame) telling me a story about Pearl and her son. That story was that Pearl had finally revisited her distinguished Scottish pioneer ancestor and admitted that she was descended from his Salteaux Ojibway "country wife" and not his "white wife." (Though "white wives" are sometimes as dubious as "country wives, but that's yet another story.)
And another story, the one that her son told at the memorial. That story, told through actions and carefully-posed and mischievous photos was of a woman who played with, and hinted at, her aboriginal ancestry. It was, he said, another side of the story of his mother's life to put beside her class-conscious striving for genteel status.
But was it? Society imposes its canons of authenticity, according to which one must be one or the other, White or Indian, upper class or lower class. Each status belongs with its companion on the other side of the comma. To mix them up, to make the wrong combinations is ... well, what is it. I'll put it this way, any "or" that narrows us down into little boxes of meaning is tyranny. And that is especially true when the subject is so tender as race. It did not suit Pearl. This the last, and best pearl, and Pearl's. It does not, I suggest, suit us.
A second pearl; If you knew Pearl, you will be wondering why I am calling her that, and not the name that she chose for herself. It is so that you can take as much or as little intimacy as you like in the way of the Internet, but also to highlight that we can and do choose our names, if we are wise.
So I have family, and semi-anonymity on the plate as well as my other themes. For a reason; I recall, some years ago, a relative that I will not name (as far as I am concerned, this is memory playing tricks, and there is no relative to name, or blame) telling me a story about Pearl and her son. That story was that Pearl had finally revisited her distinguished Scottish pioneer ancestor and admitted that she was descended from his Salteaux Ojibway "country wife" and not his "white wife." (Though "white wives" are sometimes as dubious as "country wives, but that's yet another story.)
And another story, the one that her son told at the memorial. That story, told through actions and carefully-posed and mischievous photos was of a woman who played with, and hinted at, her aboriginal ancestry. It was, he said, another side of the story of his mother's life to put beside her class-conscious striving for genteel status.
But was it? Society imposes its canons of authenticity, according to which one must be one or the other, White or Indian, upper class or lower class. Each status belongs with its companion on the other side of the comma. To mix them up, to make the wrong combinations is ... well, what is it. I'll put it this way, any "or" that narrows us down into little boxes of meaning is tyranny. And that is especially true when the subject is so tender as race. It did not suit Pearl. This the last, and best pearl, and Pearl's. It does not, I suggest, suit us.
Wednesday, May 18, 2011
Chapter 1: The Yurt
More Champions Universe Fanfic with a more conventional format. Below the fold to save my dignity.
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| The backstory, more or less, via FantasticFiction.co.uk |
Thursday, May 12, 2011
I See Canals!
Shamans use exhaustion and drugs to take our minds to spooky, kooky, other worlds. I'm a year of blogging out from three years of chronic exhaustion, much of which I spent in other worlds. One of them was K. Maria de Lane's Mars. I thought I'd blog scholarly about it, but I Googled, and she's got a book! Erik kan haz? Kan! So, scholarly later. Imagination soaring towards madness now.
Imagination soaring into madness isn't the first thing we associate with those famous "Calvinists," the Boston Brahmins. Rather, they seem to have seeking to put their heads in a much more spiritual place, even if they ended up somewhere anatomically impossible instead.
"And this is good old Boston,/Home of the bean and the cod/Where the Lowells talk only to the Cabots/And the Cabots talk only to God."
But popular culture sees crust...
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Now, this map of the canals of Mars actually comes from an 1895 British Association publication (or, even more accurately, from a popular astronomy website) rather than Percival Lowell's slightly later work, but, the rest of the crazy is all Lowell. Or Lowells. A lot of crazy. Perhaps more crazy than we've entirely taken cognizance of. (Does ending a sentence with a proposition signal that we're going full-bore crazy? It should.)
Friday, May 6, 2011
Stories About Little People
It's one of those school holidays today in North Vancouver, so I got to hang out with the Boy and the Girl on their Friday night. The Girl had a playdate after school, so I spent less time obedient to her whims than usual --hardly a bad thing. The Boy is into his bulletin boards, grinding, and Sonic the Hedgehog. Not surprisingly, he spent a great deal of time growing Chaos in the afternoon, after correcting his uncle's painful misunderstandings. Sonic is a Sega, not a Sony character. Who knew? Everyone but uncle.
After that, the Boy launched an adventure game. Or is it the same game? Sonic Adventures 2 for Wii, Wikipedia suggests; but I might be wrong. He was complaining about characterisation, story depth, and dialogue as he did, though. There's pain there. I feel so helpless to see him going through what I went through at his age. He's already developing a callously sarcastic crust; although that might just be adolescence. Or adults modelling. Oops.
After the Playdate left, the Girl launched into a painful story of her own, of social confusion and rejection involving a bit of costume jewelry lost in the brush. I hate to be a coward, but I really want to leave the problem of raising/not raising a Mean Girl to others. That being said, the least I can do is deflect the conversation rather than validate any inappropriate behaviour. So I brought up my old stories about the Prickle People, and, Hallelujah, it worked!
Strictly, in the story, the tiny people live in a miniaturised land surrounded by thorn forests, but ever since I read this book, I have never been able to look at a bramble patch without imagining tiny little people building tiny little cities deep within the thorns. I don't spend as much time mucking around in bramble patches as I did as a boy, but, still, thanks, Edgar Rice Burroughs, you crazy coot, you. And if I've anything to say about it, neither will the Girl.
Of course, her interests relating to very small people living under the prickle bushes are slightly different from mine, her being a girl and all. (Oh oh, indefensible gender politics alert!) I like to imagine skyscrapers a foot high, and the shepherd boys and the milkmaids herding their aphids up into the summer heights of the horse chestnut tree; escaping everyday life in the hot city for somewhere cool and green.
She, in her sweet, girlish way, plots genocide with squishings and sticky tape traps. Adorable!
Stories. Good ones make us happy. The ones that make us happiest, we make our own
After that, the Boy launched an adventure game. Or is it the same game? Sonic Adventures 2 for Wii, Wikipedia suggests; but I might be wrong. He was complaining about characterisation, story depth, and dialogue as he did, though. There's pain there. I feel so helpless to see him going through what I went through at his age. He's already developing a callously sarcastic crust; although that might just be adolescence. Or adults modelling. Oops.
After the Playdate left, the Girl launched into a painful story of her own, of social confusion and rejection involving a bit of costume jewelry lost in the brush. I hate to be a coward, but I really want to leave the problem of raising/not raising a Mean Girl to others. That being said, the least I can do is deflect the conversation rather than validate any inappropriate behaviour. So I brought up my old stories about the Prickle People, and, Hallelujah, it worked!
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| Great Literature Inspires Me Every Day! |
Of course, her interests relating to very small people living under the prickle bushes are slightly different from mine, her being a girl and all. (Oh oh, indefensible gender politics alert!) I like to imagine skyscrapers a foot high, and the shepherd boys and the milkmaids herding their aphids up into the summer heights of the horse chestnut tree; escaping everyday life in the hot city for somewhere cool and green.
She, in her sweet, girlish way, plots genocide with squishings and sticky tape traps. Adorable!
Stories. Good ones make us happy. The ones that make us happiest, we make our own
Wednesday, April 27, 2011
I'm Eating Al Dunlap first.
That'd be the 90s era corporate raider that came up with the bright idea of making companies more profitable by slashing benefits. Because what possible long term consequences could eliminating sick pay and vacation? Cut new employees' pay, and they'd have to work. It's the kind of imagination that sees oneself as the protagonist of a zombie movie, with a gun that shoots shurikens and a little red dress.
And what goes wrong is that your staff goes zombie. In fantasy land, that means they hunt you down and eat you. In real life, they just become less and less productive, and you look at your disappointing sales figures and you think to yourself, "what could possibly be going wrong?" (People don't work, and because you don't pay them, they don't buy stuff, either. How hard is this to figure out?)
And I'm on a zombie day. Not a bad zombie day; first of two days off together, which the ancestors would call a "weekend" in their quaint old way. I've done my laundry, the vacuuming. And it does occur that I'm still lucky to have two days off together and that it could be worse. There are people at my workplace trying to work two jobs at the same time, and I have no idea how they keep going. I'd like to stop it. All I have to do is find the leprechaun gold. I know it's around here somewhere....
So, two points: first, Zombie Day, do no work. Second, find gold. Which is work. How shall I resolve the contradictions of late capitalism? Post something I've already written (elsewhere) yesterday, because I was in some fugue state even weirder than today.
Or maybe because I was provoked by this. Which has the unsubtle point that lost cities are cool, and you should go visit one. Which, problem. Lost cities are lost. Sure, there might be a Club Med there to visit, but you couldn't find it, either! Sure, the taxidrivers or whatever could be on commission and you'd just ask them where the lost city is and they'd take you there. All sexy like. Sort of. But I bet Vegas is less work. And I know that lost cities that are actually still lost are even cooler. So I put together my own list.
1) Akkad. Sargon, King of Kish, conquered the four quarters of the Earth, and then built a new capital there. Or so the scribes say. Maybe it turned out differently. But the more we know about the Akkadian Empire, the more we suspect that this was a spectacular, full of cool stuff like this
Too bad that old Akkad is probably buried deep under Baghdad.
2) Itjtawy. The capital of the Twelfth Dynasty, renowned in literature, triumphant abroad, was the glory of the Middle Kingdom. Its location at the outlet to the flood catchment overflow basin of Lake Moeris, and testifying to the first major step in land reclamation by the Egyptian state. Befuddle New Agers with the very strong inference that it was the original Labyrinth. (No ancient European mother-goddess worshipping labyrinth threading for you, lady! Also, would it kill you to get rid of the old peace symbol on your jean jacket?)
3) Washukanni: Akkad and Itjtawy are probably buried under modern cities, not a good sign for excavators. Washukanni, chances are, is one of the vast number of unexcavated tells in eastern Syria and northern Iraq. The other untouched national capitals of the Late Bronze Age (Hattusa and Tell Amarna) have yielded rich archives. Hopefully, so will Washukanni.
4)Xiang, Xing, Ao, Bi, and Bo: Erlitou and Anyang have been archaeological gold mines. The lost Shang Dynasty capitals that come between them in traditional history should be equally rich. Or maybe they don't exist, and don't even have a cool traditional name like Yinxu ("The Ruins of Yin.") Whatever: there's a lot left to dig up in the Chinese Central Plains.
5) Pteria: Herodotus described this great walled city near the Halys river as the capital of the Medes, conquered by Croesus of Lydia in 595BC. The most likely candidate is Kerkenes, which has sent Classical historians into a tizzy, because Kerkenes was clearly a "Phrygian" city. I've blah-blahed about the potential implications before.
6) Pataliputra: Supposedly, we know exactly where the capital of the ancient Mauryan Empire was: at modern Patna. In reality, the very idea of a "Mauryan Empire" is a problem of nationalist myth-making. There really was a powerful Indian capital city that was visited by a Greek ambassador, but it was certainly not in Bihar State, but rather in the far northwest, probably near Kandahar. If we find it, hopefully we will find more ancient texts like the hair-raisingly ancient Gandharan Scrolls.
7) Srivijaya: Probably built on low-lying land in a tropical jungle, so there wouldn't be much left of the capital city of this early empire, which might be buried under modern Palembang. But once we have time machines, that won't be a problem!
8) Norumbega: Is there a lost city under Boston? Nineteenth-Century New England historians rather spoiled this legend by turning it over to an even more legendary people, the Greenland Vikings. No, there were no Vikings in New England, any more than on Ellesmere Island. Enough with the crazy pills, folks! If Norumbega existed, it was more likely the home of a mixed community of Indians and European "renegades" in the decades immediately preceding the arrival of the Pilgrims/Puritans. Why did they disappear? They didn't! Many of the ancestors of the prim and proper New England Yankee of later times were probably mixed-race Norumbegites! (Norumbegitians?) Once again, I've talked about this before.
There's more, and I could find them, but that would be even more work than I've already done, which is breaking the first rule of Zombie Day. Although apparently breaking the first rule of Zombie Day is the first rule of Zombie Day, because I've got to go do my taxes now. Soon. In a minute. As soon as I've checked out Yglesias again. And maybe Brad Delong.
And what goes wrong is that your staff goes zombie. In fantasy land, that means they hunt you down and eat you. In real life, they just become less and less productive, and you look at your disappointing sales figures and you think to yourself, "what could possibly be going wrong?" (People don't work, and because you don't pay them, they don't buy stuff, either. How hard is this to figure out?)
And I'm on a zombie day. Not a bad zombie day; first of two days off together, which the ancestors would call a "weekend" in their quaint old way. I've done my laundry, the vacuuming. And it does occur that I'm still lucky to have two days off together and that it could be worse. There are people at my workplace trying to work two jobs at the same time, and I have no idea how they keep going. I'd like to stop it. All I have to do is find the leprechaun gold. I know it's around here somewhere....
So, two points: first, Zombie Day, do no work. Second, find gold. Which is work. How shall I resolve the contradictions of late capitalism? Post something I've already written (elsewhere) yesterday, because I was in some fugue state even weirder than today.
Or maybe because I was provoked by this. Which has the unsubtle point that lost cities are cool, and you should go visit one. Which, problem. Lost cities are lost. Sure, there might be a Club Med there to visit, but you couldn't find it, either! Sure, the taxidrivers or whatever could be on commission and you'd just ask them where the lost city is and they'd take you there. All sexy like. Sort of. But I bet Vegas is less work. And I know that lost cities that are actually still lost are even cooler. So I put together my own list.
1) Akkad. Sargon, King of Kish, conquered the four quarters of the Earth, and then built a new capital there. Or so the scribes say. Maybe it turned out differently. But the more we know about the Akkadian Empire, the more we suspect that this was a spectacular, full of cool stuff like this
Too bad that old Akkad is probably buried deep under Baghdad.
2) Itjtawy. The capital of the Twelfth Dynasty, renowned in literature, triumphant abroad, was the glory of the Middle Kingdom. Its location at the outlet to the flood catchment overflow basin of Lake Moeris, and testifying to the first major step in land reclamation by the Egyptian state. Befuddle New Agers with the very strong inference that it was the original Labyrinth. (No ancient European mother-goddess worshipping labyrinth threading for you, lady! Also, would it kill you to get rid of the old peace symbol on your jean jacket?)
3) Washukanni: Akkad and Itjtawy are probably buried under modern cities, not a good sign for excavators. Washukanni, chances are, is one of the vast number of unexcavated tells in eastern Syria and northern Iraq. The other untouched national capitals of the Late Bronze Age (Hattusa and Tell Amarna) have yielded rich archives. Hopefully, so will Washukanni.
4)Xiang, Xing, Ao, Bi, and Bo: Erlitou and Anyang have been archaeological gold mines. The lost Shang Dynasty capitals that come between them in traditional history should be equally rich. Or maybe they don't exist, and don't even have a cool traditional name like Yinxu ("The Ruins of Yin.") Whatever: there's a lot left to dig up in the Chinese Central Plains.
5) Pteria: Herodotus described this great walled city near the Halys river as the capital of the Medes, conquered by Croesus of Lydia in 595BC. The most likely candidate is Kerkenes, which has sent Classical historians into a tizzy, because Kerkenes was clearly a "Phrygian" city. I've blah-blahed about the potential implications before.
6) Pataliputra: Supposedly, we know exactly where the capital of the ancient Mauryan Empire was: at modern Patna. In reality, the very idea of a "Mauryan Empire" is a problem of nationalist myth-making. There really was a powerful Indian capital city that was visited by a Greek ambassador, but it was certainly not in Bihar State, but rather in the far northwest, probably near Kandahar. If we find it, hopefully we will find more ancient texts like the hair-raisingly ancient Gandharan Scrolls.
7) Srivijaya: Probably built on low-lying land in a tropical jungle, so there wouldn't be much left of the capital city of this early empire, which might be buried under modern Palembang. But once we have time machines, that won't be a problem!
8) Norumbega: Is there a lost city under Boston? Nineteenth-Century New England historians rather spoiled this legend by turning it over to an even more legendary people, the Greenland Vikings. No, there were no Vikings in New England, any more than on Ellesmere Island. Enough with the crazy pills, folks! If Norumbega existed, it was more likely the home of a mixed community of Indians and European "renegades" in the decades immediately preceding the arrival of the Pilgrims/Puritans. Why did they disappear? They didn't! Many of the ancestors of the prim and proper New England Yankee of later times were probably mixed-race Norumbegites! (Norumbegitians?) Once again, I've talked about this before.
There's more, and I could find them, but that would be even more work than I've already done, which is breaking the first rule of Zombie Day. Although apparently breaking the first rule of Zombie Day is the first rule of Zombie Day, because I've got to go do my taxes now. Soon. In a minute. As soon as I've checked out Yglesias again. And maybe Brad Delong.
Wednesday, April 20, 2011
Rite of Spring, Finale
[Plastered to a hillside, the Champions 3000 and the Liberty Legion have had occasion to consider that real life is not at all like a MMORG.]
***
Defender 3000 [Jack Harmon]: "I had no idea that slaying dragons involved so much bodily fluid. Is it going to get any better when we go over the top?"
Earthnet: "Bearing in mind that I'm no expert on small unit tactics involving Mandaarian robots, mysterious machinery, and ancient kung fu liches, I'd say 'no.' Your Twenty-first Century allies would be the ones to ask."
Jack: "I can't. The Furious Fist and the Black Cat are still down, Kumar is too green to be helpful, the girls are spacy, and the Amazing Spleen is a punk."
Earthnet: "Some patience will work miracles with the girls. Well, with Gun Girl. The Avenging Daughter can't think straight now. And you can work with the Spleen. You just got off on the wrong foot."
Jack: "I told him he'd done a great job, and he mouthed me off!"
Earthnet: "He doesn't take compliments well."
Jack: "Everyone takes compliments well!"
Earthnet: "If you do it right. The boy has issues. Which I need to explain."
Jack: "What? He's a crazy from a crazy age?"
Earthnet: "No. He's almost normal. But you're right, it was an insane age. Brain disorders were rampant; five percent of the adult population with neurotransmitter uptake disorders. The thing is, that means that practically everyone else had behavioural tics from dealing with them, and the Spleen and his sister have pretty serious ones: overcompensated free attachment to Subject-Oriented Disorder."
Jack: "Oh. Like Daglo Laverne in Huner Laverne: Diary of the Last Narcissist. I, uh, I'm not into Chick Lit or anything. I just read the book for the historical detail."
Earthnet: "Well I'm glad you read it. Makes this easier. Remember: 'Daglo can no longer hear the praise of the Placement Officer, only see and hear Huner, claiming credit with his flattery for Dayglo's successes, diving ever further into madness.'"
Jack: "So the Spleen is going to throw himself out an airlock if he passes a test so his coparent can't exploit his success as a defence mechanism?"
Earthnet: "No. Novels need drama. This is real life. Only with more werewolves. The Spleen and Gun Girl have dealt with one or more 'narcissists' all their life and have grown habituated to rejecting compliments and, for that matter, social success. Spleen is just more abrasive, because he's aggressive about it."
Jack: "So as long as I don't act like a self-absorbed, egotistical screwup, or compliment them or pay them attention, I'll be fine. See this isn't helping as much as you might think."
Earthnet: " It's a behavioural trigger, Jack, a matter of perception, not reality. They know that most people are normal. They're capable of normal interactions. The aggression and rejection come when they lose perspective. Unfortunately, they happen to be tired, stressed, isolated, and over-excited right now, and that means they've lost perspective. We don't have to fix them, just manage them. So you'll need you to preprogam your holographic projector."
Jack: "For...?"
Earthnet: "Isn't it obvious? To fake the Amazing Spleen's death for the Furious Fist. You see..."
Jack: "I get it. You're a very smart AI. 'Blah blah interpersonal group dynamics brilliant deduction blah blah.' Don't need to hear more about cave man diseases or your line of thought. I'll get Suit to program up some hologram projections, and boom! The Amazing Spleen blowed up real good. Might even be tactically helpful."
****
Furious Fist [Henry Wong]: "So, Earthnet."
Earthnet: "Yes?"
Henry: "Archaeological science must be really advanced by now."
Earthnet: "I can't believe that I'm saying this, but might there be a better times for this conversation?"
Henry: "Not much we can do 'till the Champions' speedster sets off her diversion. You guys must have recovered pretty much every ancient artefact on this planet. For example, a greenish orb almost like an oversized pearl, with disturbing reptilian images somehow showing within."
Earthnet: "Like this image?"
Black Cat [Miriam Crudup]: "Goodness! The Basilisk Orb! Where is it?"
Earthnet: "In an ultrasecure clean room in the Lunar Citadel, where the Empress Marissa put it."
Henry: "Consider carefully: is there any way one of our villains could have got access to it?"
Earthnet: "Checking.... I never fail to be amazed by the elegance of Mandaarian programming. Yes. There was a tap on the janitorbot. I've shut it down, but I gather that this is one of those magic dealies. Care to explain?"
Henry: "It might be the most powerful magical artefact on Earth, at least, in periods when magic works on the Earth. More powerful than the...never mind. DEMON tried to use it to change the future in 1968. We fought them, with the Sentinels and some other teams. I'm not entirely sure that we won. And I would imagine that that's what Kwan is trying to use it for right now."
Earthnet: "He doesn't have the Orb. I have it. Or, rather, a BOLO XXXV has it, as of five seconds ago."
Henry: "Then he doesn't need it any more for this mission. Is your diversion supposed to involve your girl being thrown through the air like that?"
Thalya The Empyrean: "Charm!"
Gavis Gan: "I've got her!"
May: "Can you set her down below and to the left? There's a ravine cutting into the mountainside and we have an ally there. Probably. Anyway, that's where he always hides when he's not ready to get in the trailer yet."
Henry: "What are you talking about?"
May: "Er. Time travel? Can't know something until you do know it? All shut up and charge now?"
***
[Jack Harmon takes in the scene on the terrace calmly, knowing that Suit is on the alert for threats. He's in brawler mode, suited to close combat with the Mandaarian robots, and he and Rampart can act together to put them down. The scenery is chewed up and getting worse by the minute with all the firepower unleashed on it. Infrared shows that Furious Fist is enraged. So is the Avenging Daughter, oddly enough. Is there a connection between the two and this place? It would be nice if her mysterious ally were to suddenly come charging up the hill and settle the situation, but that would be far too neat. And the allies have their own plan, even if it may well be aborted when the Furious Fist confronts the sere lich.]
Uncle Kwan [Wong Guangli:] "You know, I thought about warning my previous self what was about to happen to him. But then I wouldn't be here, would I? Though it would have been fun to kill Ma Tian myself. She really did have it coming. You were sweet on her, weren't you, Nephew? But you bounced back. I heard you ended up with some Gweilo girl pumping out bananas in Philadelphia. You know what? I'll look them up after I've placed the Basilisk Orb in my master's hands. It's been far too long since I spent time with my kin. They keep dying, you see."
[Liches should not do kung fu. It's just disturbing to watch. The Furious Fist counters his uncle's moves blow-by-blow. There's an air of familiarity to it. Jack has the sense that Kwan's confidence isn't bravado, that they've danced this way before, and it's never ended well for the Fist. And yet the Fist, too, seems confident, and Suit tells him that his Fist's eyes rake across the Avenging Daughter repeatedly as she fights Kwan's lycanthropic minions, assisted by Black Cat, Gun Girl and the rest of the Champions. Jack is more sure that there is a connection; still unsure whether it will actually matter. The Champions should have enough power to defeat all of Kwan's minions. It is just that they now know that there is a time limit. Did the Furious Fist mean to suggest that the Basilisk Orb was more powerful than the Mandragalore? If so, it had to be kept out of the hands of Kwan's mysterious master.]
Sage [Zes'arou Al'gari Vikon]: "Oh, treachery!" [3D Girl appears next to Kwan in the midst of the battle as everything grinds to a halt: timestop: Jack Harmon has experienced this before, when Arcane pulled it. It wasn't precisely stasis, because you could still think, and presumably, someone was going to get an exemption. Since it was unexpected treachery, presumably Uncle Kwan. Good thing Jack and the Fist had seen it coming.
Naomi(?) Hirsch [3D Girl]: "Miriam, Miriam. I have a time machine, too. Technically, I have yours. Don't you know by now that you can't trust a clone? Not even us! Rebecca was even going to betray me to you! Really, sell a gene-sister to some gametic accident? Our geneline has a gift to compare with Master Kwan's, I must say."
Uncle Kwan: "Oh, indeed. Who better than a time traveller to find the Basilisk Orb, after all? I gather that the real Naomi knows you in 2011. And your children. And their lovers. And as soon as we've edited the timeline, I'll know, too. You can talk now, nephew."
Henry: "You never change, do you, Uncle? One overcomplicated plan after another." [Behind, at the inner edge of the bench, Vijay and Brad pop up where there ought to be nothing but soil meeting rock. The top of the ravine the girl mentioned earlier, Jack wonders? It doesn't matter. They sprint towards the glowing machine, Vijay running with the superhuman strength of his legs, only feet away from the device in seconds, Brad falling well back. Not-Naomi turns and waves her hand; the boys are frozen. Now that's a problem, but the effect is weak, and Gavis Gan counters it partly.]
Vijay: "So I can't run. Problem solved, right? Wrong!" [He seems so young right now, even to a 29-year-old's eyes. His smile is bright as the Sun, his every move lithe like a natural athlete's as he reaches into his Champions-issue tights and pulls out a dagger. Purely for show he throws it neatly from hand to hand, then hurls it, straight and unerring across the 4 meters now separating him from the machine, muscles rippling under his tunic. Kwan's machine explodes in a tictinic flair, engulfing Vijay as Suit fires up its projector and maps the effect onto the Amazing Spleen. It will only last a second, but that will be more than enough if Earthnet is right.
And it seems that it is, because, released from the stasis, the Furious Fist legsweeps Kwan into not-Naomi. They tumble into the time machine, the Fist kicking them down into submission. One last sweep of his eyes across the battlefield, until they lock on the Avenging Daughter.
Henry: "To know that I will be your father made me happier than I have ever been; I'm so proud of you, girl. And your sister, too. I will bear my guilt for the death of your lovers, always. I will be with you again before the end." [The time machine glows gently and disappears, before reappearing with Rebecca Hirsch and a boy, a Mandaarian, the glowing hair of his head shining in the nimbus of Jack's receding hologram. Behind it, lying on an ancient, illegible, worn gravestone is Vijay's burnt body, and, over him, Brad futilely, knowing that it is futile, pumping green, glowing light into it.]
Miriam: "Naomi!"
May: "Vijay!"
This is the twentieth' installment in my Champions Universe fan fiction focussing on Philadelphia's Liberty Legion, and the seventh installment of the second arc unless I rewrite it to put it between "Jenny's End, Part Two" and "Jenny's End, Part Two, Two," in which case it will be an embedded arc.!
This episode at least doesn't use more published characters from the extended Champions Universe. It does have two magical MacGuffins, the Mandragalore and the Basilisk Orb..
Amazing Spleen {Brad Neilsen]: "So we're down for at least a minute here while Mr. Wong and Miss Crudup recover from their beating. Then we're going over the top with the Champions."
Gun Girl [Jaime Neilsen]: "That was amazing, May! I don't think even the SD could have figured that out faster!"
Avenging Daughter [May Wong]: "Nope. My sister is still the Great Detective."
Five Signs [Vijay Singh Kumar]: "So the guy in black was your great-uncle from the 1970s, who worked for your Mom's boss when your Mom was a supervillain who fought your Dad. Only your Mom backstabbed your great-uncle as a way of sending a fresh note to your Dad even though she ended up killing this guy who worked for her boss. Only he's not really dead because the other bad guy up on that bench is actually his resurrected lich from maybe right now. And he's using some kind of weird gizmo that was built by a super-science alien named "Sovereign" to change something that happened at this spot back in 2670 so that all of history will be rewritten in a bad way from that moment on? Only then Kwan, or both Kwans, backstabbed him. And then the plan was to change something in 1899, only then there was the next backstab, and now it's the Kwan who is dead, only not dead, who is in charge, and we don't know what his plan is? And I guess technically, he's undead? How could you possibly figure all that out?"
May: "I didn't. I must have heard that story, like, a thousand times. Only without Uncle Kwan dying in a blood explosion. Not that I find that surprising or anything. So you hear what Jenny thinks about Juanita and Henry?"
The Amazing Spleen [Brad Neilsen]: "A thousand times. SHH."
Jaime: "You don't have to always be looking after everyone, big bro. Especially not Nita."
Brad: "No, I mean shh: I think they're coming round. Avenging Daughter, can you get Defender over here?"
May: "Why don't you do it? You need to apologise to him, Mr. Snarky Gorilla."
Brad: "Who are you calling snarky?"
May: "I'm snarky in a charmingly entertaining way. You're just Mr. Negative. You need to apologise to the grownup, over where you can't see that I'm holding Vijay's hand."
***
Defender 3000 [Jack Harmon]: "I had no idea that slaying dragons involved so much bodily fluid. Is it going to get any better when we go over the top?"
Earthnet: "Bearing in mind that I'm no expert on small unit tactics involving Mandaarian robots, mysterious machinery, and ancient kung fu liches, I'd say 'no.' Your Twenty-first Century allies would be the ones to ask."
Jack: "I can't. The Furious Fist and the Black Cat are still down, Kumar is too green to be helpful, the girls are spacy, and the Amazing Spleen is a punk."
Earthnet: "Some patience will work miracles with the girls. Well, with Gun Girl. The Avenging Daughter can't think straight now. And you can work with the Spleen. You just got off on the wrong foot."
Jack: "I told him he'd done a great job, and he mouthed me off!"
Earthnet: "He doesn't take compliments well."
Jack: "Everyone takes compliments well!"
Earthnet: "If you do it right. The boy has issues. Which I need to explain."
Jack: "What? He's a crazy from a crazy age?"
Earthnet: "No. He's almost normal. But you're right, it was an insane age. Brain disorders were rampant; five percent of the adult population with neurotransmitter uptake disorders. The thing is, that means that practically everyone else had behavioural tics from dealing with them, and the Spleen and his sister have pretty serious ones: overcompensated free attachment to Subject-Oriented Disorder."
Jack: "Oh. Like Daglo Laverne in Huner Laverne: Diary of the Last Narcissist. I, uh, I'm not into Chick Lit or anything. I just read the book for the historical detail."
Earthnet: "Well I'm glad you read it. Makes this easier. Remember: 'Daglo can no longer hear the praise of the Placement Officer, only see and hear Huner, claiming credit with his flattery for Dayglo's successes, diving ever further into madness.'"
Jack: "So the Spleen is going to throw himself out an airlock if he passes a test so his coparent can't exploit his success as a defence mechanism?"
Earthnet: "No. Novels need drama. This is real life. Only with more werewolves. The Spleen and Gun Girl have dealt with one or more 'narcissists' all their life and have grown habituated to rejecting compliments and, for that matter, social success. Spleen is just more abrasive, because he's aggressive about it."
Jack: "So as long as I don't act like a self-absorbed, egotistical screwup, or compliment them or pay them attention, I'll be fine. See this isn't helping as much as you might think."
Earthnet: " It's a behavioural trigger, Jack, a matter of perception, not reality. They know that most people are normal. They're capable of normal interactions. The aggression and rejection come when they lose perspective. Unfortunately, they happen to be tired, stressed, isolated, and over-excited right now, and that means they've lost perspective. We don't have to fix them, just manage them. So you'll need you to preprogam your holographic projector."
Jack: "For...?"
Earthnet: "Isn't it obvious? To fake the Amazing Spleen's death for the Furious Fist. You see..."
Jack: "I get it. You're a very smart AI. 'Blah blah interpersonal group dynamics brilliant deduction blah blah.' Don't need to hear more about cave man diseases or your line of thought. I'll get Suit to program up some hologram projections, and boom! The Amazing Spleen blowed up real good. Might even be tactically helpful."
****
Furious Fist [Henry Wong]: "So, Earthnet."
Earthnet: "Yes?"
Henry: "Archaeological science must be really advanced by now."
Earthnet: "I can't believe that I'm saying this, but might there be a better times for this conversation?"
Henry: "Not much we can do 'till the Champions' speedster sets off her diversion. You guys must have recovered pretty much every ancient artefact on this planet. For example, a greenish orb almost like an oversized pearl, with disturbing reptilian images somehow showing within."
Earthnet: "Like this image?"
Black Cat [Miriam Crudup]: "Goodness! The Basilisk Orb! Where is it?"
Earthnet: "In an ultrasecure clean room in the Lunar Citadel, where the Empress Marissa put it."
Henry: "Consider carefully: is there any way one of our villains could have got access to it?"
Earthnet: "Checking.... I never fail to be amazed by the elegance of Mandaarian programming. Yes. There was a tap on the janitorbot. I've shut it down, but I gather that this is one of those magic dealies. Care to explain?"
Henry: "It might be the most powerful magical artefact on Earth, at least, in periods when magic works on the Earth. More powerful than the...never mind. DEMON tried to use it to change the future in 1968. We fought them, with the Sentinels and some other teams. I'm not entirely sure that we won. And I would imagine that that's what Kwan is trying to use it for right now."
Earthnet: "He doesn't have the Orb. I have it. Or, rather, a BOLO XXXV has it, as of five seconds ago."
Henry: "Then he doesn't need it any more for this mission. Is your diversion supposed to involve your girl being thrown through the air like that?"
Thalya The Empyrean: "Charm!"
Gavis Gan: "I've got her!"
May: "Can you set her down below and to the left? There's a ravine cutting into the mountainside and we have an ally there. Probably. Anyway, that's where he always hides when he's not ready to get in the trailer yet."
Henry: "What are you talking about?"
May: "Er. Time travel? Can't know something until you do know it? All shut up and charge now?"
***
[Jack Harmon takes in the scene on the terrace calmly, knowing that Suit is on the alert for threats. He's in brawler mode, suited to close combat with the Mandaarian robots, and he and Rampart can act together to put them down. The scenery is chewed up and getting worse by the minute with all the firepower unleashed on it. Infrared shows that Furious Fist is enraged. So is the Avenging Daughter, oddly enough. Is there a connection between the two and this place? It would be nice if her mysterious ally were to suddenly come charging up the hill and settle the situation, but that would be far too neat. And the allies have their own plan, even if it may well be aborted when the Furious Fist confronts the sere lich.]
Uncle Kwan [Wong Guangli:] "You know, I thought about warning my previous self what was about to happen to him. But then I wouldn't be here, would I? Though it would have been fun to kill Ma Tian myself. She really did have it coming. You were sweet on her, weren't you, Nephew? But you bounced back. I heard you ended up with some Gweilo girl pumping out bananas in Philadelphia. You know what? I'll look them up after I've placed the Basilisk Orb in my master's hands. It's been far too long since I spent time with my kin. They keep dying, you see."
[Liches should not do kung fu. It's just disturbing to watch. The Furious Fist counters his uncle's moves blow-by-blow. There's an air of familiarity to it. Jack has the sense that Kwan's confidence isn't bravado, that they've danced this way before, and it's never ended well for the Fist. And yet the Fist, too, seems confident, and Suit tells him that his Fist's eyes rake across the Avenging Daughter repeatedly as she fights Kwan's lycanthropic minions, assisted by Black Cat, Gun Girl and the rest of the Champions. Jack is more sure that there is a connection; still unsure whether it will actually matter. The Champions should have enough power to defeat all of Kwan's minions. It is just that they now know that there is a time limit. Did the Furious Fist mean to suggest that the Basilisk Orb was more powerful than the Mandragalore? If so, it had to be kept out of the hands of Kwan's mysterious master.]
Sage [Zes'arou Al'gari Vikon]: "Oh, treachery!" [3D Girl appears next to Kwan in the midst of the battle as everything grinds to a halt: timestop: Jack Harmon has experienced this before, when Arcane pulled it. It wasn't precisely stasis, because you could still think, and presumably, someone was going to get an exemption. Since it was unexpected treachery, presumably Uncle Kwan. Good thing Jack and the Fist had seen it coming.
Naomi(?) Hirsch [3D Girl]: "Miriam, Miriam. I have a time machine, too. Technically, I have yours. Don't you know by now that you can't trust a clone? Not even us! Rebecca was even going to betray me to you! Really, sell a gene-sister to some gametic accident? Our geneline has a gift to compare with Master Kwan's, I must say."
Uncle Kwan: "Oh, indeed. Who better than a time traveller to find the Basilisk Orb, after all? I gather that the real Naomi knows you in 2011. And your children. And their lovers. And as soon as we've edited the timeline, I'll know, too. You can talk now, nephew."
Henry: "You never change, do you, Uncle? One overcomplicated plan after another." [Behind, at the inner edge of the bench, Vijay and Brad pop up where there ought to be nothing but soil meeting rock. The top of the ravine the girl mentioned earlier, Jack wonders? It doesn't matter. They sprint towards the glowing machine, Vijay running with the superhuman strength of his legs, only feet away from the device in seconds, Brad falling well back. Not-Naomi turns and waves her hand; the boys are frozen. Now that's a problem, but the effect is weak, and Gavis Gan counters it partly.]
Vijay: "So I can't run. Problem solved, right? Wrong!" [He seems so young right now, even to a 29-year-old's eyes. His smile is bright as the Sun, his every move lithe like a natural athlete's as he reaches into his Champions-issue tights and pulls out a dagger. Purely for show he throws it neatly from hand to hand, then hurls it, straight and unerring across the 4 meters now separating him from the machine, muscles rippling under his tunic. Kwan's machine explodes in a tictinic flair, engulfing Vijay as Suit fires up its projector and maps the effect onto the Amazing Spleen. It will only last a second, but that will be more than enough if Earthnet is right.
And it seems that it is, because, released from the stasis, the Furious Fist legsweeps Kwan into not-Naomi. They tumble into the time machine, the Fist kicking them down into submission. One last sweep of his eyes across the battlefield, until they lock on the Avenging Daughter.
Henry: "To know that I will be your father made me happier than I have ever been; I'm so proud of you, girl. And your sister, too. I will bear my guilt for the death of your lovers, always. I will be with you again before the end." [The time machine glows gently and disappears, before reappearing with Rebecca Hirsch and a boy, a Mandaarian, the glowing hair of his head shining in the nimbus of Jack's receding hologram. Behind it, lying on an ancient, illegible, worn gravestone is Vijay's burnt body, and, over him, Brad futilely, knowing that it is futile, pumping green, glowing light into it.]
Miriam: "Naomi!"
May: "Vijay!"
This is the twentieth' installment in my Champions Universe fan fiction focussing on Philadelphia's Liberty Legion, and the seventh installment of the second arc unless I rewrite it to put it between "Jenny's End, Part Two" and "Jenny's End, Part Two, Two," in which case it will be an embedded arc.!
This episode at least doesn't use more published characters from the extended Champions Universe. It does have two magical MacGuffins, the Mandragalore and the Basilisk Orb..
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