Sunday, April 10, 2011

Comic Book Story

Author's Note: This is a bit sloppy, but will definitely be revisited in the future.  Also, think of this as a comic book.  I have plans to have it drawn into one in the future.  I played with voice this week.  Enjoy.


This is the last time, after this I’m done.
                “Macy! Are you with us? Macy!” The Colonel slammed his fist onto the table.  “Damn it, Macy. Get your head in the game.  The nation needs you.”   “Aye aye, sir.” I grumble, “I pilot the drones into Benghazi, under cover of course, then take out the target.  Mission accomplished.”
                Someone snorted in the back of the room.  I bet it was Allen. “Mr. Allen,” started the Colonel, “is something funny to you?” “No, sir.” Replied Allen.  “I swear to God, if you freaks weren’t so useful I’d kick you all out into the cold.” The Colonel was prone to rants of this kind.  He didn’t much care to be the head of a secret government organization, let alone one that was as effective as MERC; Meta-human Engagement and Reconnaissance Corps.  No this Army officer wanted glory and honor in the field.  He wanted to die in battle, in full view of everyone, so that his sacrifice would be written down in the history books.  What pride. He hates his job, and I hate being here. It’s surprising how effective we are.
                “Sir, why don’t we just Jump a team into Gaddaffi’s headquarters?” I ask, “Wouldn’t that be easier than a stealth drone attack?”  Colonel Strayer smirked, “Good instincts there Jack, but unfortunately James can’t penetrate.” He almost giggled, “His abilities get all limp in the desert.” “When did you get all naughty?” began James Allen, “last time I talked to your wife, she said something of similar effect about you colonel.” Someone near the door spit out their coffee.  Colonel Strayer bounded across the room and grabbed Allen by the collar, “You god damned freaks, I wouldn’t kick you out into the cold, no no Allen, I’ve got something special in mind for you.” Allen stared him straight in the eyes, “And if you did have these damn restraints,” Allen pointed to his neck, “I’d have dropped you off Angel Falls years ago.  It would have been poetic, maybe a little ironic.”
                That one wasn’t bad. Allen always did have a way with words, sometimes it worked, sometimes it didn’t, but it was nice to know that anther MERC shared my sentiment.  Macy reached up and ran his fingers over the almost unnoticeable bulge in his neck.  So small, and yet so controlling.  Some doctor had figured out how to dampen meta-human abilities by placing a chip near the thyroid.  Apparently it had something to do with the endocrine system.  All I know is that I can’t communicate with this chip, maybe it has something to do with its placement close to my brain, or maybe it’s because it’s inside my body. 
                Others had tried to cut out the chip, only to have the small explosive they placed in the back of the skull trigger and kill them.  Land of the free, right.  I’ll figure it out soon enough.  “Are we done here?” I ask, “cause I gotta prepare for this.” “Prepare?” questioned the Colonel, “I thought you tech boys just kinda did it.” “I didn’t know you ever had other techno-kinetics. .  .” “I was just speaking in generalities.” Colonel Strayer covered quickly.  I’ll have to do some more digging.
                My name is Jack Macy, and I can talk to machines.  Well computers mostly.  I’m a member of the black ops group codenamed MERC.  Member, more like prisoner.  My abilities, like most meta-humans, began to manifest at puberty, but since computers were just beginning to be placed in schools, I didn’t recognize my powers till high school.  I was always good with them, programs just seemed to make sense to me.  My teachers were impressed.  They suggested that I go to college to study programming.  Little did they know that I was good with computers because I interfaced with them, not through a keyboard and mouse, but through my mind.  It didn’t take me long to use this for my advantage.  What kid wouldn’t? 
                It really started when the school decided to computerize the grading system.  Susy Boyd was cute.  Really cute. The perfect high school cute.  Blonde hair, green eyes, wore plaid skirts and tight sweaters.  She was in almost all my classes.  I heard her complaining that she was getting a B in trigonometry.  I could fix that.  So the day that grades were due, I said ‘hello’ to the school’s network.  You’d be surprised how much a computer will do for you, as long as you ask politely and directly.  I changed Susy Boyd’s B to an A, and while I was there I thought that the jerk Greg Ertman definitely didn’t deserve to pass English. Not when he bullied poor Mike Fuller into writing his papers for him.  Maybe I shouldn’t have done it, but damn it felt good.
                Chaos erupted the next day.  Had I just changed Susy’s grade, I doubt anyone would have gotten wise.  But Greg Ertman flipped his shit.  His teacher didn’t know what had happened. “It’s those damn computers!” I heard his father yelling in the hall, “This never would have happened if we stuck to the old system!” Some people refuse progress in their lives, they love their luddite ways.  At the time the school board took him seriously, but now people would just laugh at him.  I did then.  In the end Susy got a B and a new system security program was installed on the network.  Luckily for me this one responded just as well to a “Please and thank you” as the rest of the programs do.  ‘I learned a good . Be subtle, and no one will get wise.’
                College was easy, a little too easy. But why drop out when I was having so much fun.  You see, the campus ATMs didn’t have cameras on them.  Mysteriously, every one of them was empty every week, but no accounting mistakes were noticed.  Not until tax season.  By then I had plenty of cash on hand, so the bank never figured it out. Eventually my ATM habits got me caught, but instead of jail, I was offered MERC.  Let me think, secret government team or soap dropping showers?  Easy decision. 
                But now I’ve had enough of hacking sovereign nations’ secrets and guiding drones to kill the opposition.  Yes I am glad that I’m increasing our national security, and yes I am very proud of keeping soldiers alive.  But I don’t have any choice.  I do this, or die.  They never say that explicitly, but having your abilities dampened and an explosive inserted into the back of your brain spells it out pretty clear.  If you try to remove it, bang, if you don’t check in every 24 hours when out on assignment, bang.  Bastards. Anyways, back to the present.
                Walking down the tight corridor of the USS Enterprise, or Mobile Chernobyl, as the Nuke Engineers call it, I could feel them calling to me.  So much tech all around!  I don’t know if they are calling to me, or my senses are reaching out to them, regardless we are aware of each other.  I could improve the network of this ship by 78%.  I could, if I could work with the gloves off, but they don’t even let me use 100% when piloting the drones.  I could interface with them directly, even at 100 miles, but not with this damn chip.  I flirt with the propeller system, but can’t even log in.  There’s a reason James was so quick to anger when Strayer called him impotent.  It’s so much more than that.
                I can imagine how not being able to ‘get it up’ could be frustrating. But that is just one part of who you are, not your most valuable talent. Or if it is your most valuable talent, you’ve probably wasted your life.   This is more like not being able to breath, but not dying, and every now and then getting a desperate gasp.    It’s insulting.  You dream about what you would do if you were unchained.  How much damage could you cause?  With one thought, I could lock up the nuclear reactor until it melts down; taking out the ship, everyone on it, and, if it’s in port, take out a large populace.  Yeah, I could do that, but am I that angry?  No.  Well, not anymore.  I used to be angry.  Now I just want to settle down in a nice mountain town, where I can access the internet, and then funnel an unlimited amount of virtual cash into an off shore account. Once it’s in the account, it’s not virtual anymore, what a glorious age we live in!
                I walk into the control room.  The Marines that had been following me line up next to the door.  Ah yes, I failed to mention that, when the gloves are going to change into mittens, the security gets hyped up.  I imagine that if I went “rogue” I’d be shot in the back.  I sit down in front of the computer panel.  Reaching for the controls, “Okay, I’m ready,” I say into the receiver, “cut me loose.”  “Copy control, you’ll know when to go.” comes the voice from the panel.  I’ll know, yes, it’s on its way.
                The control room has some kind of frequency control that affects the restraint chip.  I’ve tinkered with those controls but got too scared to try to loosen it up.  Ah, there it is. It’s like a drug.  A little bit of my old talent back in the blood stream.  Just a little bit.  Okay computer, “Hello.”  I don’t even see the screen anymore.  Drones, three of them, fully powered, fully loaded, each with a special ordinance load of two Morays, a small rocket, packed with plastic explosive, that could easily take out a house.    Ready for launch? AFFIRMATIVE.  The thrill of networking with all three of these drones through this interface is fantastic.  Imagine having three sets of eyes, and being able to understand and control all three sets as easily as you do your own single set.  Oh yes, this is fun.
                Launching off the ship in the middle of the night, I have the cameras turn to their night settings.  Seeing the world in shades of green and black is interesting.  Things don’t look quite right, but seeing the infrared spectrum is defiantly beyond human.  I’ve heard of an Army lieutenant who had developed this ability, but hadn’t let anyone know about it, until she felt she wasn’t being appreciated enough.  She snuck into her commanding officer’s tent to steal high level information to use as a bargaining chip.  All in the dark, mind you.  The thing about secret documents is that stealing them is treason.  She was offered MERC or death.  She chose the latter. 
                The North African desert sand is beautiful in dark green.  It has cooled off enough from the day, and is in that lower spectrum.  We turn east southeast, that should put us right to the capital.  He’s probably not even there. Maybe I can get Saif. If he’s smart, he’d be in a bunker somewhere.  Okay, status update. POWER LEVEL 65% ALL SYSTEMS OPERATIONAL. Great.  These drones are losing a lot of power, guess we’ll be using the self destruct to take out our targets.  Wouldn’t want any evidence left behind.  BENGHAZI IN SIGHT.  Thank you. My own eyes would barely be able to see Benghazi, even during broad daylight, especially not at this hour.  That’s one of the nice things about tech, it can do things we can’t.  Then I can use that tech to enhance myself, bringing a human aspect to the tech.  It’s a win/win.  All the advantages of the brain plus the advantages of tech.  Wait.
                There is a flash. Searing pain and suddenly nothing.  What was that? Drone Three report. Silence.  Drone two do you see Drone Three? NEGATIVE. Something has taken out Drone Three. “Colonel, something has happened.” I say to the speaker, my voice monotone with focus. “Drone Three is out of commission.”  “We saw that Macy, it wasn’t unexpected, just carry on with One and Two.” Replies the Colonel. Wasn’t unexpected? “Colonel is there something you’re keeping from me?” “Just carry on Macy, that’s an order.”  I hate that shit more than anything else.  “Aye Aye.”
                I reach out and scan the area with my remaining eyes.  Drone Three had been sent ahead at my request to scout.  We are approaching the site now.  Arm Ordinance. AFFIRMATIVE. ORDINANCE ARMED.  I don’t care who you are, blowing up stuff is fun.  We see nothing coming up to where Three disappeared.  Green sand, no movement, no other heat signatures.  In the distance I see signs of a city. ELECTROMAGNETIC INTERFERENCE REGISTERED. What?! ELEC.. . . One ends its transmission suddenly. Flash! Pain! Aahhhh!
                Imagine having an eye plucked out, except the pain isn’t real, it’s all in your brain.  Then again, all pain is only in your brain.  It’s how the human computer interprets electrical signals coming from wherever they come from.  Just because machines don’t have nerves, doesn’t change that fact.  It’s one of the only disadvantages to technokinesis, your brain accepts the interfacing computer as if it was another limb, and therefore a sudden disconnect would be as painful as having your hand suddenly removed.  It sucks.  I guess it’s not a win/win all the time, sometimes it’s a win/loose.
                After a few moments, my mind clears, and I wake up on the cold metal floor of the carrier.  “Sir, are you alright?” asks one of my Marine guards.  He looks really concerned.  I must have screamed pretty loudly. “Sir?” I respond, “My parents were married.”  The Marine cracks a grin.  They love officer jokes.  I get up and prepare to make my way to the Colonel, but surprise surprise, he enters the room on his own. “You’re keeping things from me Strayer.” I start. “I keep things from lots of people Macy, what stopped the drones?” the Colonel interrupts, “did you get a reading?”  “Yeah,” I respond, “Electromagnetic interference. One caught it right before she died.” “It.” “Excuse me?” “Before it,” says the Colonel, “was destroyed. Not she, and it didn’t die.  It was a damned drone Macy.”  “You didn’t feel it.” “Machines don’t feel anything.  You’re projecting.  I can’t have you cracking on me.” The Colonel actually looks concerned for a moment.  This isn’t new to him. “Right.  It.  Like you said.” But he didn’t feel the pain, I did. “What is causing the interference?” I ask.  “We are unsure, but it is most likely what is keeping Jack from Jumping into the city directly.” responds the Colonel, “We’re going to try something different, and quickly.”
                That’s not his style, he’s being pressured by something, and it’s not Libyan rebels.  “An what do you want me to do?”  “Jack is going to Jump you, right to the border of the interference.  If there is anything to recover, you are going to do so.  Destroy what you can’t.” “And if there is trouble?” I ask, “am I allowed to use my abilities?”  “We’ll keep you at your current level.  Take those toys of yours with you, just in case.” Responds the Colonel.
                Those toys are an incarnation of my genius.  They are small radio controlled cars, however they each are armed with a different weaponized device.  Explosives.  Firearms.  Gas.  All sorts of fun.  They are also each equipted with a tiny camera, usually used for surveillance.  I’ve dropped as many as ten at a time and controlled them with ease.  This time I’ll bring more.  Just because I’m cautious though, I pack my Baretta M9.  Sometimes the best way, is the simplest way.  All black fatigues make you feel like a badass.  It’s like in the movies, those guys are just so cool.  Won’t give me much time though.  Sunrise is in 4 hours. 
                I make my way back to the control room, and Jack is waiting by the bulkhead.  “You look nervous.” He says to me, “don’t worry, we won’t meld into one person or anything.”  “Good,” I respond, “I hate your haircut.”  He laughs.  “We won’t be doing this forever partner, let’s just get this done and over with.”  “Agreed.”  We enter the room and the Colonel eyes us.  He’s always suspicious this man, perhaps that’s what his job does to him, or perhaps that’s why he was picked for the job.  “Ladies, I need you back here in four hours.  Once that sun starts to rise, Jump back here immediately.  Am I clear?” says the Colonel, sounding incredibly cliché while doing so.  Jack and I both respond with the rough neck’s favorite, “Crystal, sir.”  Jack winks at me.  His chip must be loosening.  He puts his arms on my shoulders and looks me in the eye.  I just nod to him.
                Jumping is an incredibly strange sensation.  I imagine it’s what being born is like.  It feels like you are being squeezed through this insanely tight space, where you shouldn’t be fitting in the first place.  Then suddenly you are hit by the sights, smells, and sensations of wherever you have just made your way to.  Jack tried to explain it to me once, since he has much more insight on the matter, but it was all Greek to me.  The drones are nowhere to be seen.  That is either a very good thing or a very bad thing.  If they exploded, which was my first instinct, there should be shrapnel everywhere, if they just crashed, they should be intact in the sand.  This is very strange.  James is walking forward very slowly, concentrating. 
                “Here’s the barrier,” James said reaching his hand out into the air, “I can’t Jump past this, whatever it is.”  I decide to walk through it, what could go wrong?  It was a strange sensation.  I could feel the electromagnetism in my skin.  A slight tingle, and then I was clear.  Immediately I could sense something.  It must be a really powerful computer for me to feel it this far away.  Hello. I reached out. I’m waiting.  What was that?  That was no computer.  I definitely reached out to a computer, but a person responded.  Another techno-kinetic?  I’ve never met any others.  I assumed there were, but they must either be dead or covering their tracks really well.  But here?  Now?  This is quite unexpected.
                “James, can you Jump inside the barrier?” I ask.  “Let me give it a try,” he responds walking quickly through the field. “here goes. . .” Jack starts to step forward, and is suddenly 100 yards in the direction he’s was headed, “ . . .looks like it!”  “Alright then, take me to the palace, and wait for my signal.” “What signal?”  “You’ll know it when you see it.”  “Oh, boom. Gotcha.”  We make several Jumps through the desert.  How people have lived here for thousands of years I’ll never know.  The lush mountain green of American is definitely my home.  James grabbed my arm and we set off on a series of Jumps, I’ll never get used to that feeling.  Smaller Jumps are better in stealth situations, so that you can be aware of where you are going, and what you might be up against. 
                As we got closer to Benghazi I could feel the amount of tech.  It wasn’t even close to the Aircraft Carrier we were on moments before, but still so inviting. “That’s the palace.” I said pointing east, “let’s go there.” “Do you want to hack the gate, or just Jump through?” asked James.  “Your so sweet to ask,” I start, “I’d love to open the gate, but there will probably be guards, so Jumping is easier.” “Yeah, I wasn’t going to let you do that anyway,” he responds, “it’s just polite to ask.” Jerk. Jump. Jump. Jump.  No sign of anyone.  That is strange.  This whole job has been strange.  “Let’s get this over with. You come back here when you see the signal.” I tell James.  He salutes and disappears.  I’d never get used to that.  I start down the corridor, pulling out one of my “toy” cars.  It responds to my impulses like a glove.  The corner looks clear.  I follow.
                The security room is up ahead.  I don’t even have to enter the room. It’s so nice to have the volume turned up on my abilities, rather than its usual 2 it’s about a 6.  Hello. Status please. CONTAINMENT FIELD ACTIVE. AIR FILTRATION ACTIVE. DOOR SECURITY DISABLED. CAMERA FEEDS DISABLED. PERSONEL MINIMUL. Why? ALL SECURITY MEASURES AS ORDERED. By whom? ACCESSING. . .ACCESSING. . .UNKNOWN. Unknown.  This is bad, this isn’t right.  This is a. .
                “Trap,” says a voice from behind, “Indeed Jack, I’ve been expecting you.”  I slowly turn to see who has bested me, it’s not all that hard now that I think about it.  We rarely expect anyone to expect us, so any counter measure to meta-humans is looked over as flukes or something else.  This man has dark hair and tan skin.  He has obviously spent some time here in North Africa.  No trace of an accent though, so he’s American.  “I figured the electromagnetic field was set up to stop Jumpers,” I say, “so I didn’t think beyond it.  I really should have.”  “Yes, MERC doesn’t really do a great job at that. Strayer really needs to be given that cushy retirement he’d hate.” The mystery man says.  So he knows about MERC and Strayer, perhaps he was a member at some point.  “You used to be in MERC, I take it?” I ask as I put my hands in my pocket, a defeated gesture.  “I wasn’t just in MERC, my friend, I helped start the damned thing.”  Stranger and stranger.  The dark haired man continued, “you are probably wondering who I am and, most importantly, why I’m not dead.” 
                “Yes, those would be the questions.” I say, “but before those, why is this place deserted?  All the intel suggests otherwise.”  The dark haired man laughs, “My boy, I’ve been in and out of the Enterprise’s systems so many times, I could make it think that the Russians had decided to bomb the US. You’re smarter than that.”  He’s got that right.  I pull out my “toys” and through them into the man’s face.  He laughs as he swats them out of the way.  Thinking I’m going to run for it, he leaps toward the door, right into the sights of my handy Beretta. “Now,” I say strongly, “Who are you?”  He just laughs. “You have three seconds.” I say.  “Three.” The man just chuckles more. “Two.” Sudenly a shot is fired. AHH my leg. I turn, it’s one of my toy cars, it fired it’s single bullet into my leg.  I reach out for them.  “No no, my friend, they are mine now.” The dark haired man states matter of factly.  All 8 of my cars come rolling around, circle me, and arm their weapons. 
                I could be taken out by gas, an explosion, electric shock, or poison.  Why did I make these so effective against myself? “Because you have never fought another Tech.” the man says.  “How did you hear that!?” I demand.  “You were still reaching out to these tiny creations of yours.  Very smart by the way, their design.”  “You can hear me through these machines?”  “I’m in control of them aren’t eye?  Your thoughts are received by them and transmitted to my brain.”  “So what are you going to do now, kill me?” I ask earnestly.  He smiles, “If you wish, but I don’t fight with the gloves on, and neither should you.”
                “What do you mean. . .” I freaze.  Something is happening.  I can feel everything.  My strength has been suddenly and violently unleashed. I can feel the ship in the distance.  The security cameras around the palace’s wall.  A reporter is using his cell phone to access the internet out in a rebel camp. “Yes, that’s right, I’ve cut you loose from MERC’s hold.” The man says, but I ignore him.  Everything is so amazing.  I focus on the ship, Hello. Access engine control. ACCESS GRANTED. Hah,  I could destroy the ship, take out Strayer, MERC, everything.  The amount of power is intoxicating.
                “Yes, use that, hit them for what they did to you.  Cuffing you.  Holding you in bondage.  A slave forever.” The dark man says, “I have set you free.”  No, not the ship, Strayer will get his eventually.  What else is around.  PCs, MACs, some new cars, Drones Two and Three. . . Hello. Status report. ALL SYSTEMS ENABLED.  “How about it Jack?  Want to join me?  Rule the world?” the man asks.  “With whom? Ghadaffi?”  I say.  The man laughs, “Ghadafi was just means to an end.  I knew they would send MERC over here to help move things quickly.  Gas prices are being effected to much. No no.  This was for you.  We’ll free the other techs.  No one could stop all of us.”  “What makes you think I want to help you?” “Well, Jack.  I was hoping you would do it voluntarily, since I just freed you from your chains.  But I could also blow out the back of your brain with that explosive you hate so much. Just take out the ship, it would be a nice gesture.”
                I stand very still. “You want me to murder all those sailors?  That could start World War Three!” “Yes, and in the confusion, we would orchestrate everything from wherever we please.  The internet is a beautiful thing.  Where would you like to go Jack?  The mountains?  I could use some R&R.”  “And if I refuse?”  “Then I’ll kill you and take out the ship anyway. What will it be Jack?  Win/win or loose/loose?”
                I made my decision.  I took a step back, and crushed one of my “toys”.  “AHHHHH!” The dark haired man screamed.  I dove to the ground, just barely escaping the wild attacks from the other tiny tanks.  MERC may be a shitty choice to make, but the weapons training is superb.  I took my time to aim, exhaled, and pulled the trigger.  The shot was loud, especially in these confined halls.  It was hard to tell if I hit him or not.  I waited.  One breath.  Two, and opened my eyes.  As the gas from “toy” three faded I could see clearly.  Blood splattered on the walls was a good sign.  I looked down on my would be master, “It’s not always win/win or loose/loose in this game.” I say to his corpse. 
                There’s no target to hit here anymore, but just because I don’t want to hear about failure from Strayer. . . Arm Morays. ARMED. Detonate. AFFIRMATIVE. There is a large explosion on the other side of the palace.  I grab my tiny friends, even the crushed one, and hustle back to my exit point.   Pop, James is there right on time.  “Alright, ATM, nice signal.” He says to me smiling.  I stare at him for a minute.  Reaching out with full power ‘Hello’ ACCESS GRANTED. Deactivate. AFFIRMATIVE.  James looks at me strangely, then his eyes open wide.  He reaches up and touches his neck.  “How did you. . “ he begins to ask, I interrupt “Nevermind, where would you like to go?”  “I got a few ideas.” James says as he puts his arm around my shoulder.

No comments:

Post a Comment