Microstory 1927: Infinite Crosses

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Agent Parsons: Sir, I’m sorry we couldn’t get Mr. Miazga on board. If I’m being honest, however, I see where he’s coming from. I follow the chain of command, and I’ll continue to follow your orders, but personally, I find the idea of amputating the alien rather distasteful. I hope we’re not going through with it anyway.

OSI Director: There’s nothing to worry about, Agent. We were never going to do that.

Agent Parsons: Um, sir?

Special Investigator: If I could explain, sir?

OSI Director: *nods*

Special Investigator: The plan was not to have the traveler break the alien out of the building, and try to gain his trust while they were on the outside.

OSI Director: To be clear, that was my original plan. It was the National Commander who shot it down. He came up with this instead.

Agent Parsons: With this, what?

Special Investigator: We still don’t if we can trust Leonard. Personally, I’m okay with the guy—my offer to deputize him will be waiting for him when he gets out.

Agent Parsons: When he gets out of what?

Special Investigator: We knew that he would never go for the amputation plan. That much was clear about the man’s character within the first minute of meeting him. NatCo wants him locked up, just in case he’s a threat. It won’t be a waste of resources, though. The two of them will be locked up together, and that is how he’ll gain its trust.

Agent Parsons: Really? That’s how we’ll get the Ochivar to talk? By letting it talk to someone it may or may not like through the air vent?

Special Investigator: It will be through a shared water drain, but yes.

Agent Parsons: Right. And what, do you suppose, will prompt this secret long-term interrogation? The alien is in a room with a one-way mirror and two cameras. It’s being monitored 24/7. Even if it started feeling like it could talk to Leonard, it won’t be able to do it there. That was the whole point of letting them break out.

OSI Director: We’re going to place them both in the basement. It’s so dank and unfinished down there, they won’t have any reason to believe there are any cameras. It will search for them, but won’t find one, because there will be nothing to find. All we need is audio, which will be in the form of an epimural amplifier.

Agent Parsons: I see that this has all been planned out. What do you need me for?

OSI Director: You’ve developed a friendship with Mr. Miazga. While he’s gaining the specimen’s trust, we need you to foster his trust in you. Someone else will escort him downstairs so you’re not the bad guy. What you can do is frequent his makeshift cell to let him know that you’re on his side, and that you’re working on a way to get him out.

Agent Parsons: One question: will I actually be working on a way to get him out, or is that just another manipulation?

OSI Director: It’s not a manipulation. We’ll let him out when he gets us what we need.

Agent Parsons: Okay, then. *starts to leave, but turns back* Wait. Is this just you manipulating me? What’s the real secret plan here?

OSI Director: We’re not manipulating you, Agent. We need you. This is the plan.

Microstory 1926: Humanity Laws

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Leonard: I’m not okay with this.

Agent Parsons: You don’t like the idea of tricking someone. I get it. But you have to weigh the pros and cons, and we need this information.

Leonard: I don’t have that much of a problem with tricking the Ochivar. Based on what little I’ve heard, some are good, and some are not so good, and this one has to be the second kind, because a good one would be doing everything it could to convince us of as much. I take issue with amputating its wings.

Special Investigator: That is vital to the mission, agent.

Leonard: Not an agent.

Special Investigator: You are now. *tosses a badge onto the table* One benefit working for the Office of Special Investigations, we have nearly zero hiring requirements. I could deputize a sixteen-year-old mental patient if I wanted to. I wouldn’t of course; we have underlying standards. The laws are for cases such as this, when I don’t have time to wait for you to finish the requisite schooling and training that other agencies demand.

Agent Parsons: That’s the special part.

Leonard: You said nearly zero requirements. I assume, in this case, the one requirement is that I go ahead with this mission, which I don’t feel comfortable doing. What we have here, at worst, is a prisoner of war. Where I come from, we treat such enemy combatants with a level of respect that they may not reciprocate. But that is no reason to stoop to their level. It’s not even that, though, because on this front, we are presently in peacetime. Plus, as far as I’ve been informed, the Ochivar hasn’t committed any crime, so he’s not a suspect either, is he? No, he’s only a person of interest.

Special Investigator: We don’t do things the same way here. All of our laws apply to humans, or the other living creatures native to this planet. 

Leonard: You don’t have property laws?

Special Investigator: It’s not a human. Despite how you just described him, he’s not even a person. There are no laws dictating how we must treat him. We are well within our rights to perform this procedure. We’re doing it so you can get your answer.

Leonard: Let’s get one thing straight, I would be getting you answers. I left family behind back home, but I know what I signed up for when I started learning about all this crazy stuff. I’m prepared to never see them again.

Agent Parsons: Let’s not be so hostile. If you don’t agree to do this, they’ll have no reason to amputate, correct? Because the only point is to make it easier for it to blend in.

Leonard: Tell me, Special Investigator. Your scientists discover new species in the depths of the ocean, right? Do these specimens not enjoy any rights, just because you haven’t had time to make any laws? That seems...irrational. And perhaps even evil.

Special Investigator: *clearing his throat* These orders come directly from the National Commander. We can’t make you do it, but I can’t guarantee your continued freedom otherwise. They may consider you an enemy threat too, and put you in the room next to it.

Leonard: So be it.

Microstory 1044: Louis

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No, please just call me Louis. My parents named each of their children after the cities they were born in. It goes Dallas, Chicago, then me, and finally Colton. You have no idea what it took for the three of the older kids to convince them that they shouldn’t spell it exactly like Coaltown. It’s bad enough my baby sister is walking around with what’s traditionally a boy’s name, but to have it spelled exactly like the name of the town? They would have named her the full Blast City had Dallas not stuffed my mom in the car, and sped down the highway to the nearest place that was at least moderately acceptable. She’s pregnant again, so we’ve already picked out a nice, lovely secret hospital in the great city of Jordan. It’s about two hours away, but we think we can make it, even if we have to get a police escort from Sallie’s brother. That’s what we had to do last time. Or rather, we started a little high speed chase, until Chicago called him up in real time, and explained why we were driving so fast. So yes, technically my name is Saint Louis, but you can imagine how much trouble that can cause me. I’m not eighteen years old yet, but the very day I turn, I’m going to the courthouse and getting this changed. Those two insisted on using my full name on all of my official documents, so it’s kind of this huge joke all around the school. Every time a new teacher comes on board, I have to explain myself. Most of them are pretty good at accommodating me, but there was one substitute who absolutely refused to call me by what I wanted. What was on the list, was on the list, and it could not be altered. That was a tangent, I know. Though, can it be a tangent if that’s the first thing I started talking about? Yeah, probably still. You’re here for Viola, who had a lovely name, by the way. It just rolls of the tongue, doesn’t it? Viola Woods. Viola Woods. If I thought I could get away with it, I might have considered changing mine to that. There I go again getting off topic, so let’s just jump right into it. Viola, she taught me how to swim, which is kind of ironic, given how she died, but not really. Like I said, my parents are crazy. They think they’re the best caretakers in the world, but I would probably be dead ten times over by now, if not for Dallas and Chicago. Oh, that’s a really insensitive thing to say in this situation, I’m sorry. But still, because I was raised by my brothers, there was no way for me to legitimately learn how to swim. They didn’t have time to do it, and my parents don’t actually know themselves, because they don’t think it’s natural. I don’t know what kind of school they attended that taught them how to be hippies, but humans have had an extremely long relationship with water. Anyway, even though we were the same age, Viola took me out to Masters Lake when we were in elementary school, and gave me lessons every day for two weeks, until I was comfortable enough to go off on my own. And that was pretty much all the time we spent together. They should make a TV show about us; call it The Adventures of Saint Louis and Angel Viola.

Microstory 1011: Sallie

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I never said that the Viola investigation was botched, and neither did my brother. I love Lulu, but she is really good at hearing what she wants to hear. I want to go on record saying that my brother has nothing but nice things to say about his boss. Though said investigation is over, I am not at liberty to reveal anything I learned internally, which is nothing, because I am not a law enforcement officer. I can only speak to the matter as a private citizen, and resident of Blast City. I spoke with Viola once, when I went to visit Lulu, and they were just finishing up one of their tutoring sessions. I couldn’t tell you why she and I never crossed paths before. We didn’t hate each other. We didn’t have any particular thoughts on each other, as far as I know. While this is a small town, yes, we also operate within our own cliques. There are alternate realities where we’re close, I’m sure of it, but this isn’t one of them. You see, there’s this thing called a monkey sphere. People might claim to have lots of friends, but when it really comes down to it, an individual is only capable of truly caring about a handful of others on a deep level. Sure, most of us has a general love for humanity, but as far as real connections go, our brains only have room for so many. If we try to bond with too many people, we become spread so thin that none of them is all that real. That’s what I believe happened with Viola. No, I don’t think she died because of it—though maybe it played a part—but she was probably more lonely than she let on. Even her closest friends couldn’t have known her that well, though they might have thought they did. Maybe I shouldn’t be saying any of this, since I was neither friends with her, nor her therapist. It’s just that I’ve always wanted to be a psychologist, and have been studying the field for the last several years, even before I was old enough to take the class. I would not say no to an offer to join you when you finally interview her killer, should you be authorized to do so.

Microstory 1010: Lulu

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I’m Lulu, otherwise known as The Other Louise. I was here first, but I agreed to go by something else in kindergarten when she threw a fit about it. Let’s see, a specific example of my relationship with Viola. We had a few encounters, but nothing earth-shattering. You must have heard that she was really smart, and did very well in school, but that didn’t mean she was good at everything. She loved to read, and probably would have grown up to be one of those people who read a book a week, or even one a day. She was not so good at grammar, though. It’s not her fault, because while a lot of how English works makes a level of logic, there’s also so much more that’s just arbitrary. Even if you understand the concepts as they operate in the real world, you may still struggle with proving that in school, because the curriculum is even more arbitrary. I actually tried to petition the school board to stop teaching kids to diagram sentences, because they’re a massive waste of time. There is no direct relationship between the part of speech of a word, and its placement in a diagram. Not only do they not help you grasp the material properly, but I strongly believe they hinder the learning process. When I was tutoring Viola, which I only needed to do for a week, I ended up teaching her a better way. Then we worked backwards so she could complete her assignments the way the school wants us to do it. I failed in my petition, by the way. It’s all based on the national program, which means nothing can really change. I’m thinking about studying education, and maybe work for the education department of the government. I got into a few good colleges, but it’s one of those fields where you really need to know where you’re going with it before you take the first step. It’s not something you can just decide to try later on. The whole system is broken, and no one knows that better than Viola’s family. Even if it’s true that they caught the right person, the whole investigation was botched. You should talk to my friend, Sallie. Her brother is a deputy, and he saw how the sheriff screwed up first hand. Yeah, I may go into education, but maybe I could do more good in a more general governmental position. That is, if I don’t have to stay in this crappy town and work at the gas station with my parents. If Viola were here, she would have some good advice.

Siftens Landing Part V

Click here for the first installment of this series.

Click here for the second installment of this series.
Click here for the third installment of this series.
Click here for the fourth installment of this series.

Father Siften, Sabrina Lander, Ryan Lander, and Madam Kapka were out looking for little Moe when the explosion came from behind them. They ran towards it, stumbling onto the bottom of the hill where Billy and Kyle were lifting an unconscious Allison from the ground. “Oh my god,” Father Siften yelled.

“She’s okay,” little Moe assured him. And she really was okay. She would have a nasty bump on the head, but she would live.

“We have to get back to the houses,” Sabrina exclaimed. They raced up to meet the horror. The Siften house was on fire, and the flames were licking at the side of the Kapka house. They got there just in time to hear the sirens from emergency services. They did a headcount and found that the only two who were not present were Mama Siften and Mister Kapka, who were each known to be out running errands.

While Father Siften was coordinating with the sheriff, Ryan was talking with the kids who had caused the explosion. “How did this happen?” he asked.

“We’re sorry,” his daughter, Libby answered. “We just wanted to look at your fireworks.”

“Was this the work of my Ferocity Sunstrikers?” The children kept their heads down in shame, but nodded affirmatively. A deputy had heard the conversation.

Madam Kapka, who was a veterinarian, was treating Allison’s wound since the paramedics hadn’t arrived yet. Allison woke up confused and backed away. “No, no, honey. It’s okay. It’s me.”

“I don’t know who you are,” Allison said in fear.

“This is my mother,” Kyle explained to her.” His voice was enough to calm her down.

“What happened to her?” Madam Kapka asked while continuing to work.

The boys were afraid to answer, but Billy decided to be the bigger man. “Kyle and I were fighting, and we accidently bumped into her, so she fell down the hill.”

“Is anyone else hurt?” Madam Kapka asked after she had done all there was to do with Allison’s head.

“No,” Kyle replied. A second deputy had heard the conversation.

The firetruck finally arrived, followed closely by the ambulance. The firefighters sprayed the house with water while paramedics loaded Allison up and drove her away. A few other firefighters went into the house, even though there were told that no one was in there. The deputy and the sheriff spent some time whispering to each other over to the side, trying to figure out what they were going to do. In the end, it was decided that the children would be separated from their parents, and that the parents would be brought in under suspicion of some form of child abuse. The parents and children screamed and pulled away from the cops, trying to reach each other. Then they all stopped and watched as one of the firefighters came out of the Siften house carrying a body. It was Mama Siften. She had come back without anyone knowing. The firefighter shook his head at his superior. She was dead.
Days later, after all legal charges were dropped, everyone moved away from each other, and never went back to the hidden cul-de-sac again. Once she graduated from high school, Allison ran off with Kyle, and they haven’t spoken to their respective families since.

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Honestly, I'm glad that's over. Now I can start on the stories that I really want to tell. Next Saturday will be the premiere of Mr. Muxley Meets Mediocrity.