#yes I gave Yellow my initial design for John

[arrimorr]

Ok, while we are on the topic of Malevolent, I decided to post some mlvlnt thingies I drew last year

#malevolent #arthur lester #john doe #yes I gave Yellow my initial design for John #while this type of shape looks like a sun for me it also symbolises a more sharp and unstable personality #(bc of all the different sized “spikes”) #I'm talking about yellow from my previous post btw

[gumnut-logic]

Callisto - Part Five - Orientation

Prologue 1. Incident - Bit 1 | Bit 2 2. Fallout - Bit 1 | Bit 2 | Bit 3 3. Voyage - Bit 1 | Bit 2 | Bit 3 4. Arrival - Bit 1 | Bit 2 5. Orientation

Things actually start happening now :D

As always, many, many thanks to @tsarinatorment​ @scribbles97​ @janetm74​ and @onereyofstarlight​ for all their amazing help. We’re deep into the hard slog now, but I am still enjoying this so that is a good sign :D

Thank you to everyone who has taken the time to read this and cheer me on. The hard slog of the middle of a long fic can be as bad as the hard slog in the middle of a painting, so all cheering is always welcome. But ultimately, I’m hoping you are find this enjoyable and not boring :D Nutty is learning here, so big L plate on my forehead.

Let the antics continue.

-o-o-o-

Virgil stared at his father’s broad back as he walked the length of the gantry toward the elevator. Scott paused a moment and Virgil placed a hand on his back in support. Muscle beneath many micro layers of spacesuit rippled as his brother loosened his shoulders. A glance of fiery blue and Scott followed his father.

As was the way of things.

Virgil followed Scott.

As was the way of things.

The cavern was a large one. It had to be to fit Three beneath its airlock doors. His heads up display confirmed pressurisation of the bay to Earth normal and his mind did the calculations on the infrastructure required to pump that much atmosphere into such a large space so quickly. He couldn’t help but be impressed.

The gantry led to an elevator platform and they crowded onto it. Gordon brushed up against him as if to catch his attention and a worried frown was shot in Virgil’s direction.

As the gantry retracted and the platform lowered, Virgil let a hand brush against Gordon’s side. If he did the same to Alan, well, they were his brothers and he may have needed the connections a little himself.

The ride down gave them a great view of the heavy equipment available in the bay. Virgil had accessed all the information he could get his hands on during the trip out, needing to know how he was going to deploy their own equipment.

He had known this was going to be an underground job and had packed accordingly. The problem with underground was initial deployment - how to get the equipment under the ground.

The backup was always to make their own holes. But that could be unnecessarily messy and a last resort. So Virgil was quite happy to see the set up included all the heavy-duty crane and hover support he could ever want.

TI had equipped this expedition exceedingly well.

Walters met them at the bottom of the bay. The rock had been ground smooth down here, filler shone in places where ice had obviously been removed, making the floor a patchwork of white and dark grey, human ingenuity and raw moon.

The Commander nodded to Scott, but it was their father whose hand he grasped solidly before pulling him into a hug. “Space Jockey, it is so good to see you. Thank you for coming.” Walters stepped back and held Jeff at arms’ length. “You’ve gone grey.”

“And you’re bald. Your point?” But their father was grinning through the plasiglass of his helmet.

“We’re both a little crunchy around the edges.” He turned to Lee. “Hey, Scrappy.”

“Graeme, I may be old, but I can still kick your ass over that.” Despite the threat, Uncle Lee grabbed the man’s hand and shook it with enthusiasm.

“These are my boys.” Dad gestured at them in turn. “Scott, Virgil, Gordon and Alan. John is still aboard the Excel and will be liaising from there.”

Walters nodded at each of them in turn, his white-grey spacesuit wrinkling with the movement. He had his helmet on just like the IR crew did. Best chance to avoid contamination or some random bug the Tracys might had inadvertently brought with them.

Of course, Virgil and John had run the decon protocols before departure and it was obvious Callisto had its own methods, but the risk was there. Helmets on unless they had no choice.

Another thing about space that was annoying - listening to your own breathing in a confined container. Okay for short term, total annoyance long term. Especially if your nose got itchy.

It was a sign that Virgil really needed more sleep when he managed to miss a chunk of what Walters was saying simply because he was designing an in-helmet nose scratcher in his head. Well, it could be multifunctional if he gave it enough reach. Head scratcher, chin scratcher-

Gordon nudged him.

Unfortunately, right in his bruises. “Ow.” He glared at his brother only to find the fish gesturing with his eyes.

Commander Walters was looking at Virgil with a question on his face. Both Scott and Dad were frowning at him. Oh shit. “I’m sorry, what did you say?”

“The Commander asked if we would like to survey the entrance to the caves first or deploy our equipment.” Dad’s voice was very...patient. “Scott said it was your decision.”

Virgil didn’t hesitate, regardless of the embarrassment. “I’ve scoured your maps, Commander, but I would be happier if you could show us the entrance to the cave network. It’s not far?” maps and diagrams were one thing. Reality was another.

Walters eyed him a little curiously. “Sure. Follow me.” And he led them towards a set of massive doors.

For a moment there, Virgil expected some grinding machinery to split the doors wide like some grand movie entrance complete with cinematic music, but no, Walters led them to a small airlock embedded in the left door and ushered them through.

It was kind of disappointing actually.

“We keep the Garden isolated as a precaution and as a way to monitor the function of the ecosystem.

“Garden?” Alan had obviously not had time to fully read up on the Base like the rest of them.

Walters’ eyes lit up despite everything. “You are in for a treat. The Garden is our horticultural team’s ultimate triumph.”

The doors opened and sunlight flooded into the airlock. And it was sunlight enough for Virgil’s jaw to drop. They stepped out into an environment so familiar, they may as well have stepped out the back door of the villa.

Except it wasn’t. The plants were recognisable, yes, but their growth most definitely was not.

This was not in the briefing notes.

“This looks suspiciously familiar.” It was Gordon who stepped to the front of the group.

Walters frowned. “Excuse me.”

Gordon’s eyes narrowed in on the man. He pointed at a nearby tree. “Pokey trees don’t get that big in five years, Commander. What’s in the water?”

It was Walters’ turn to frown. “Pokey trees?” A blink. “Oh, pohutukawa. No, they do not. However, with some special treatment and the lack of strong gravity, they can.”

Virgil stared up at the giant tree. It was far too thin at the base for the spread of the massive branches and it seem wrong somehow. Everything was too long and looked as if it was going to fall. What was even more odd was the sound of a honeyeater argument in those branches. A scuffle, a ruckus of squawks and a flash of grey and yellow flew out from amongst the leaves and darted over the rocky hill in front of them.

“You have birds?!” Gordon sounded caught between amazement and outrage.

Walters stared at him a moment longer. “We have much more than that.” He turned away and led them away from the tree and up a winding path. Virgil’s boots crunched gravel that glittered as it moved. He frowned at what was probably nothing more than ground up moon. It was pale and sparkling like some set prop out of an early science fiction show John might have watched.

But he was soon distracted by much more fascinating sights.

The path led up a small hill and soon he realised that they were in a massive cavern, bigger than all the hangars beneath Tracy Island combined.

And it was full of life.

Birds of several different kinds flew about the ‘sky’. A sky dominated by a number of extremely bright lights hanging from a ceiling so high it couldn’t be seen for the brilliance. Oddly growing foliage was everywhere. The lone pokey tree by the door was scarlet in blossom, but it was not alone. Flowers sprouted from wonky stems and too tall grass. The little hill they were standing on was the highest point in the cavern, the ground sloping down into the distance. At the far edge, a lake had ducks swimming in it.

“How the hell?” It was Gordon, but Virgil’s questions were not far behind.

Several physical requirements clicked into place. The cavern was obviously heated and pressurised with an Earth level atmosphere just like the hangar, otherwise those birds wouldn’t be able to fly beyond bouncing in the gravity.

While Gordon’s head seemed ready to explode, Virgil managed one word. “How?”

Walters had a quietly confident smirk on his face. “A combination of research, applied science and a whole pile of luck.” A sigh. “This is Ju’s baby.”

Scott shifted where he stood. “Where is the access to the cave network?” Virgil glanced at his brother. There was an intensity in his eyes that spoke of both mission urgency and further questions that would need asking once that mission was complete.

Walters exhaled and nodded. “This way.” He led them down the other side of the hill to what eventually proved to be another set of massive doors. “The caverns were here when we arrived. We knew of them before we left Earth, but what we did not realise was their extent.” Walters stopped in front of the doors. He gestured at the cavern. “To create all this, we only needed to seal the cavern entrance overhead – which the Base did nicely. We installed a series of atmospheric inducers, the heating and the lighting. The rest we grew from seed or egg.” The man was obviously proud of their achievements.

“Sir, the caves?” Scott was getting rightfully impatient.

“Yes. Yes, you’re right.” He swallowed and hurried over to yet another small door within a door.

Virgil took another step forward, intending on seeing how the door was unlocked when his world suddenly doubled. His stomach rolled over with that familiar nausea ever so reminiscent of their trip out here.

He swallowed and closed his eyes a second.

“Virg? You okay?” Gordon was whispering on a closed channel.

Virgil cranked his eyes open, lack of sleep suddenly piling on top of him. His fish brother was frowning at him. Scott, their father and Uncle Lee were walking towards Walters and the door.

The sudden vertigo had him fearing an incident inside his helmet.

But then as he took a step towards Gordon, the nausea faded away, a single last cramp dissipating as his little brother approached and put a hand on his arm.

“Virg?”

“I’m okay. Just felt dizzy for a second there.”

“T-drive?”

“Probably.”

“Meds wearing off?”

“Didn’t think I would need them.”

Now Alan had stopped following Scott and was looking back. Any minute now and he would have not only Scott on his ass, but Dad as well. He straightened his spine. “I’m good.” But whatever it was had triggered the beginnings of a headache.

Damn.

Well, it wouldn’t be the first time he’d completed a rescue with a headache. He’d throw back some paracetamol when they went back to Three to source their equipment.

“You sure?”

“I said so, didn’t I?”

Gordon held up his hands. “Just checking, bro. Don’t get your pants in a twist. Hard to unknot them out here.”

But Gordon was still frowning at him.

Alan was turning back...

Move or get smothered.

He flexed his shoulders and strode off to join the rest of this family.

-o-o-o-

Gordon stared after his heavy lifting brother.

Damn that T-drive. His own stomach hadn’t fully recovered either and Virgil was obviously still feeling it.

Gordon pondered whether Virg could knock him out for the voyage home. Maybe knock both of them out.

Alan was frowning and gesturing for him to hurry up. Scott and Dad had already entered what turned out to be yet another airlock.

Space was hard work.

He kicked at the gravel as he trotted after his brother and darted into the huge airlock with his brothers.

Walters was talking again as he sealed the door behind them. “The cavern appears to have been a terminus for this branch of the cave network.” Walters should seek a job as a tour guide. “As I said earlier, we knew about some of the caves before we arrived, but it became increasingly clear that our sensors weren’t telling the full story when we discovered exactly how many tunnels are under the surface here.”

Gordon felt the room depressurise and his HUD declared the atmosphere had become almost nothing. He frowned. It was still something though and he remembered that Callisto was one of those odd places that had the bare minimum of a bunch of gases clinging to it.

He was pretty sure that if he pinged Johnny, he could give him an essay on it, Jupiter luny fan he was.

Walters opened the other side of the airlock and led them through.

Oh, wow.

They were once again in a cavern, a smaller one to the one they had just left and it was obviously more in its natural state. The big doors were sealed into one wall and a lighting system had been deployed running off into the distance.

And there was a lot of distance. The cavern was definitely a tunnel, a good twenty metres wide and high. But that wasn’t all that had his jaw dropping.

The walls were sparkling in the light.

Walters must have seen his reaction or the reaction of his family. “Pretty amazing, huh? The walls are full of a mix of ice and rock. The ice catches the light, but there is also an unusual amount of mineralised crystal as well. We’ve found several types of quartz along with precious metals.”

Gordon was only half listening to him. He wandered over to the nearest wall and examined it. Ice. Water. But in a way it was rarely seen on Earth. Kinda interesting. He ran a hand over the wall and frowned. “You say this is natural?”

“Other than stringing up the lights and installing the doors, from here on, it is pure Callisto.”

“This was made by running water.” Even Gordon knew how impossible that was in the current environment. He looked up to find everyone staring at him. “Hey, I know my element when I see it. This wall has been eroded by running water.”

Walters slumped just a little. “Thank you. Ju has been saying that since we got here. Unfortunately, we can’t work out how that can possibly be a thing, but yeah, all the tunnels, if we were on Earth? Water made. Like limestone caves apparently.” A snort. “Ju has been very adamant about it.”

“Have you reported this?” Dad’s voice startled Gordon a little.

“Reported? Sure. But all her peers are less than accepting. All signs point to Callisto as having had no crustal movement since it formed, minor atmosphere, and certainly no running water at these pressures.”

“But this is a fact.” Gordon frowned again. “What about the reports of an ocean on Callisto under the crust.” Yes, he had checked that out. This wasn’t his first Jovian moon after all. It was why he had brought Four with him.

“Too far down. We can’t reach it. And besides, it is impossible for water to exist as a liquid on the surface, there is not enough atmospheric pressure. We’re barely five hundred metres down here. We haven’t been able to explain it, and until we do, it is considered only one possible and likely doubtful explanation.”

Gordon turned back to the wall. It glittered at him as if daring him to discover its mysteries. “Virg?”

“Hmm?” His brother’s voice was distracted enough to distract Gordon. He flicked over to a private comm. “You sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine, Gordon. What did you want?”

Gordon grunted. “You got something to test the rocks?”

“If needs be. We have a rescue to complete first.” Virgil killed the private line and turned to Walters. “I’m satisfied. Scott, we need some recon. I recommend we get two dragonflies down here.”

Scott nodded. “Okay, we are go. Alan, you’re with me. Gordon, you’re Virgil’s wingman.”

As it should be.

Besides, Gordon wanted to keep an eye on their resident lumberjack. He was acting weird.

“Dad, you and Uncle Lee are our liaisons with Base.”

Gordon bit his lip.

“Scott-“

The Commander of International Rescue held up his hand, fire in his eyes. “No, arguments.”

Dad’s eyes latched onto Scott and flared, but Uncle Lee grabbed his arm. “Space Jockey...”

Grey eyes flickered to his best friend and got a dose of determined Lee Taylor for the effort.

Their father’s lips thinned as nobody moved for a whole moment, Scott emanating commander vibes all over the cavern. If Dad didn’t obey, all hell was going to let loose.

“Thunderbird Five to Callisto.” John’s voice echoed over multiple comms, a faint and unfamiliar hiss and crackle in the background.

The moment snapped and Scott tapped his comms. “We read you, Thunderbird Five.”

“There is considerable interference on comms, you should be aware. I cannot guarantee service at all times. Source is unknown.”

“Noted.”

Damn, that was going to make this even more difficult. They could get lost down here themselves.

But then this wouldn’t be the first time Gordon had worked without contact with his brothers.

First time in space, though.

“Scott, we have located two life signs.”

“What?!” Walters took a step forward and looked ready to climb into Scott’s commset to get further information.

The commander ignored him. “Details, Thunderbird Five.”

“Eos and I were able to work around the majority of the interference and we have two faint lifesigns registering to the north of Callisto Base, almost directly under Burr crater.”

“Only Two? We have five missing persons, Thunderbird Five.”

“I know, Scott.” John’s voice was calm but sad. “Eos is still working on that interference, but at this point I don’t expect to find more. We’ve been able to map the caverns and tunnels within a thousand-kilometre radius. Sending the data to your comms now. Other than those two, I’m reading nothing. I do not have enough resolution to locate anything more specific.”

Like dead bodies.

All of them shifted where they stood, caught between the positive of a location and the negative of three missing rescuees.

“Keep looking, Thunderbird Five.” Scott’s voice was empty of emotion.

They had a mission and now they had a target.

“FAB.”

The line cut out.

Virgil had already pulled up the map John supplied on his wrist ‘projector, his eyes combing the holographic maze of tunnels. Even from here Gordon could see they were massive. If these had been eroded by water, the rivers had been big.

But their history would have to wait. There were lives at stake and Scott was already moving back to the airlock, Virgil and the rest of the group hurrying to follow.

Gordon hesitated just a second, lured by the thought of water flowing through the rock in such a low-pressure environment that the liquid should be ice.

The walls sparkled at him.

But the mission...

He took a step forward and his foot kicked something tiny that bounced ahead of him. Frowning, he bent to pick it up.

The crystal was no bigger than his fingernail and sparkled pink in the lighting.

“Gordon!” Scott was glaring at him from inside the airlock.

The aquanaut shoved the stone into his kit and hurried to catch up.

Perhaps space was a little more interesting than he thought.

-o-o-o-

Next

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds fanfiction #thunderbirds #Virgil Tracy #Gordon Tracy #Scott Tracy #Jeff Tracy #alan tracy #John Tracy #lee taylor #callisto

[rialynne]

Little Women Review

I’m feeling incredibly motivated to do this so here we go. To set it up, yes I read little women as a kid and I saw the 1994 version years ago prior to my first viewing. I watched the 1933 and 1949 versions and the 1994 version again before the second viewing. 

TLDR: Go watch this Movie I love it, imma buy this blu ray. To me despite structural changes this is the definitive movie adaptation of Little Women.

So initial personal reasons why I’ve always enjoyed this story is that it takes place in Mass; my cousins live in Concord, I grew up in New England and they definitely filmed in New England cause certain scenes. We still have old style buildings around like they have in the film and the landscape, especially for scenes in the fall were absolutely beautiful. Marmee even name drops my home state at one point so shout out there. 

Greta Gerwig did an absolutely fantastic job with the adapted screenplay of this movie and I am quite the fan of her decision to split up the structure of the novel and create more flash back sequences to emphasize different events that took place and how that impacted characters. I think the decision to film with a yellow warm tone in the past compared with a blue, cool tone in the adulthood scenes was a smart move as a visual way to explicitly indicate which timeline we are in. The fashion of the ladies and the hairstyles definitely did help with the timeline as well. I also love how they designed the girls hair style and clothing when they were younger to have a piece of Marmee’s style with them to signify a piece of Marmee is in each of her daughters. I also really loved the way that scenes played out, how they were shot, how when a bunch of them where showing conversations that could happen in real life. The dynamics of the march sisters remind me of my own family and there are a few scenes where there was like multiple conversations going on at once and I loved that. Also I love the sound track its on par with the 2005 Pride & Prejudice soundtrack.

For the more minor roles:

Meryl Streep did her thing as Aunt March and was quite hilarious, I loved how she was like no kisses plz and her whole you need to marry wealthy and I didn’t get married cause I’m rich bit. Mr. Lawrence has a beautiful character arc especially with Beth. He did so well with that small role and he really made you feel for the loss of his daughter. John Brook was the sweet respectful man for his wife. Friedrich Bhaer was good as well. Not as many scenes of him as I was previously expecting but I bought the connection he and Jo had and he definitely proved to be an intellectual match for him. 

Laura Dern was an excellent Marmee. She really brought the presence that she was the giving, calming presence for all her daughters, especially for Jo. I absolutely love the conversations she had with Jo about her always being angry and for talking to Jo about her not really being in love with Laurie. I felt like that conversation is a really important lesson for everyone to determine if they want to marry someone, to make sure they do marry some one cause they do truly love them and not cause they want to be loved. Mr. Dashwood, the new york city publisher was also a great addition to this story in terms of representing the way publishers were back in the day. 

I loved how connected they made all the March sisters feel. They really did make them all feel like one unit in their younger years, that it hurt much more when they are older when their apart. I really Loved watching Jo especially interact with all her sisters and seeing how the dynamics changed over the years. With Meg she relates to her being the oldest siblings and the scene where they talk about their different goals in life right before Meg gets married. Its a lovely scene indicating not one’s goals in life are better than another persons goals. I Love how she cares so much for Beth and looks out for her. The dynamics of Jo and Amy’s relationship was fascinating to watch cause it reminded me a lot of me and my sister and how we bickered a lot, but still deeply care for one another, and eventually were able to respect one another. 

I knew going into this movie that Saoirse Ronan was going to kill it as Jo, and she flipping delivered. I love her portrayal as Jo where she is not as too much as the 1933 and 1949 portrayals and yet was very ambitious and likable, very similar to the 1994 portrayal from Winona Ryder. I loved her speech with Marmee about how great women are and how she doesn’t have a life goal to get married but how she is very lonely. That hit hard. Her negotiating for her royalties to her book was a great addition to the end of the story. I feel as if she plays a certain type of character in her movies, but she does it sooo well and in a way that no one else can do justice for it. The relationship between Jo and Amy and Jo and Laurie were great to watch. Amy and Jo are so similar besides a few key differences, and those differences help make their tension believable and turns them into remarkable characters.        

I love the take on Beth in this adaptation. They still play her as a sweet and caring individual, one that ultimately leads to her getting sick and dying, but they give her a little more quirky traits and have her say some funny one liners. She has a lot of subtle moments with Jo and Amy especially that makes their reactions to her death feel so real. Emma Watson did a much better job than i expected and gave a surprising amount of depth to Meg. I did really enjoy the sub plot of her buying that fabric for a dress. $50 back then was like close to $1000, and really does show her struggle with wanting to have nice things once in a while. Her speech to Jo about her desires to be a wife and a mother is beautiful. Meg I feel is a difficult role to play due to her calm presence and lack of a super extroverted like personality and Emma made it her own.

Timothee Chalamet is a fantastic Laurie. He did well in balancing Laurie’s immature and lazy side to him while making him endearing. Seeing his love for the March family grow over time was beautiful. His relationship with Jo and Amy were awesome. With Jo, they are a great example of a platonic friendship, especially from when this book was published. I really loved the rejected proposal on the hill. You can see Jo still resisting adulthood still from her sister’s wedding, even when Laurie proposes I think she sees that as the end of childhood for her. Along with that she never had an interest to get married and expresses that she doesn’t love him like that and why they wouldn’t make a good match. The argument doesn’t feel like unrequited love but more like two best friends having a disagreement. His scenes with Amy also highlight his path to adulthood and him learning about love in the process. 

AMY MARCH FINALLY GOT HER DUE! About damn time she did. Amy is my favorite character from this adaptation and is the one that surprised me the most. Lord FLORENCE PUGH needs to get a damn nomination because she was fucking amazing. For me she was able to convincingly play a young and adult Amy so well. Amy is a woman who knows what she wants in life and is very determined to get them and work within the current societal circumstances she is in. She is able to push her ego aside to get what she wants. She is so cheeky and energetic when she is younger but becomes more refined and tactful when older. Her burning Jo’s book did indicate her jealousy of her sister and the immaturity of her emotions that over time she has a grip on more as an adult. Her relationship with Aunt March indicates the idea and pressure she has to take care of the rest of her family. When she has her economic proposition speech, you really see how this is adding so much pressure on her, pressure that does influence her choices and behavior later on. 

But, my absolute favorite part about Amy’s development over the movie was her relationship with Laurie. I’m so happy Greta really took the time to flush out this relationship. I really love these two together. They are both a really great example of love that evolves over time. The little tid bits in the past with the small moments of Amy and her small crush over Laurie: THE FOOT MOLD, the way young Amy looks at Laurie, her drawing of him at the beach while flirting with Fred Vaughn, talking about how hot he is as a half Italian. All of that was perfection. Everything in Paris with these too was also sooo fantastic. I love it that prim and proper 20 year old lady Amy turns into a kid again when she sees Laurie and just jumping and hugging him, and then Laurie is all like you’re beautiful. when she invites him to the ball and he kisses Aunt March. Her being all like “its Laurie!” and looking back at him with that damn smile, the things that make my heart melt. With Amy and Laurie knowing each other for so long, Amy is able to be real with him and call him out throughout their time in Paris, mainly at the ball when his drunken fuckboi ass waltz in. Also The PAINTING ROOM, lawrd. Amy still shitting on Laurie for his behavior, their conversation about love, Amy’s speech on economic proposition, THE UNBUTTONING OF THE PAINTING SMOCK (that absolutely rivals the Pride & Prejudice 2005 hand touch in terms of sexual tension), Amy being able to be her true self around Laurie, Laurie telling Amy “You look beautiful...you are beautiful” (SWOOON). Then when they at the park: Amy scolding him for being lazy and not taking charge and being responsible, Amy drawing him again and showing him the older picture, Laurie telling Amy not to marry Fred “don’t marry him. Why? you know why.”, Amy realizing what hes implying and being all like Naw don’t you dare fam I’ve always been second to Jo “I won’t do it. Not when I have spent my entire life loving you.”. Laurie finally grew a pair and went off to London to make something of himself and Amy turning down Fred’s proposal realizing she wants to marry for love. Them reuniting in Paris after Beth dies, and being alike i wont let you travel alone even if you despise me, which Amy says she doesn’t despise him. And she states she aint marrying Fred and then rambles on and LAURIE KISSES HER GOD BLESS HE DO LOVE HER. and wow. Their love story is one of the most satisfying love story arcs I’ve seen in a long time. 

Any ways that’s my long ass Review of Little Women 2019.  GO watch it in theaters if you can. I will buy it and stream it when it comes out of theaters. This is the definitive adaptation for me and I think it will hold up well as an amazing period drama for years to come. 

#little women #little women 2019 #jo march #amy x laurie #amy march #laurie #theodore lawrence #beth march #marmee #meg march #movie review

[televisedbirdwatching]

Episode 1: Parks as Public Health Infrastructure

Portland’s parks are one of my favorite things about the city. When I first moved here, I would take myself of drives just to go check out new parks; I’d walk around by myself and make mental notes, excited to share these spaces with other people in the future. 

During the Covid-19 Pandemic, those parks have become even more valuable. I remember in April, my first trip out of the house post-lockdown was to go for a walk at Pier Park in St. Johns. I remember in July, I hung out with some friends in Laurelhurst park, decompressing and enjoying the 9 PM sunset. I remember in August, hanging out with my mom and my sister in the Peninsula Park Rose Garden. These parks have always been there, but I think the pandemic has helped a lot of people appreciate their parks in new ways. 

Portland’s Mt. Tabor Park.

Portland owes many of its great parks to the Olmstead Brother’s plan. In the early 1900’s, the city commissioned the Olmstead Brothers, sons of famed landscape architect and designer of New York City’s Central Park, Frederick Law Olmstead, to design a system of parks for the growing city. Peninsula Park, Sellwood Park, Laurelhurst Park, Mount Tabor Park and Forest Park were all sited and designed in reference to the Olmstead plan.

An Illustration from the Olmstead Plan, which can be found in the book “Legacy of the Olmsted Brothers in Portland” by William Hawkins. 

When Olmstead designed Central Park for a growing city on Manhattan island, he did so understanding that parks were a critical piece of public health infrastructure. Looking at a map of Manhattan today, it seems inconceivable that 1.3 square miles of developable land would be set aside as a park, but Olmstead’s plan found support from a New York City that was recovering from deadly Cholera epidemics in 1832 and 1849 that killed over 8,500 people- bringing the issue even closer to home, Olmstead’s first child died of Cholera in 1860.

The precursor to the germ theory of disease transmission was the “miasma” theory; people believed that disease was caused by odors and vapors from decomposing garbage and sewage. It was also widely accepted that plants and sunlight were capable of sanitizing “miasmic” or “vitious” air. Olmstead’s Central Park was designed to help prevent future epidemics by purifying the city’s air and offering city-dwellers the opportunity to restore their health.

Olmstead wrote: “Opportunity and inducement to escape at frequent intervals from the confined and vitiated air of the commercial quarter, and to supply the lungs with air screened and purified by trees and recently acted on by sunlight, together with opportunity and inducement to escape from situations requiring vigilance, wariness, and activity towards other men- if these could be supplied economically, our problem would be solved.” The emergency and gravity of the cholera epidemics gave Olmstead and city politicians the political license to carry forward big ideas like Central Park, providing a public benefit and taking steps to prevent the next pandemic (although modern science tells us that plants don’t exactly sanitize the air the way they believed). 

Hudson River School painter Asher Durand painted this portrait of his children in an upstate NY Apple Orchard in 1832; continuing the long-standing tradition of wealthy people escaping to their idyllic countryside homes when pandemics strike in urban areas. Given the year of this painting it’s not hard to connect it to the 1832 Cholera epidemic in New York- bet you didn’t think I was going to sneak art history into this one.

It’s worth remembering that Central Park is a completely manufactured landscape. Marshes were drained and streams were created completely artificially. From the Central Park Conservancy, “its only natural feature is the metamorphic rock, called Manhattan schist, that’s approximately 450 million years old.” The rest is a work of art- deliberately crafted from the natural medium.

The tie between Central Park and public health goes deeper considering that the Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis Reservoir, across from the Guggenheim Museum, actually predates the rest of Central Park,* and was the first major attempt made to bring clean water to the growing city. Even before germ theory, public health officials could tell that there was some connection between water and cholera, and set about building an aqueduct to deliver water from the Croton Reservoir 22 miles to the north.

In an age when most New Yorkers didn’t have access to running water, the clean water that could be found in the park was another draw. An 1870 guidebook to the park encouraged visitors to ‘drink their fill’ from the ‘inexhaustible cisterns.’ Ornate drinking fountains were placed around the park, including one near The Mall that used underground blocks of ice to cool the water. 

The Bethesda Fountain, just south of The Lake, was built as a monument to the completion of the Croton Aqueduct. This statue was the first major art commission in New York City granted to a woman. Stebbins was also a lesbian and used her partner Charlotte Cushman as a model for the statue; although in 1840′s language they were just two female best friends who lived together for many years and for some reason never married men.

The huge supply of fresh, clean water suddenly available in Central Park allowed New York city planners to begin delivering running water to homes in Greenwich Village, Gramercy Park, and Chelsea, neighborhoods that were initially upper-class suburbs created for people trying to escape the overcrowded tenements in the areas around the Five Points. An 1822 yellow fever epidemic provided the first major wave of resettlement from lower Manhattan to Greenwich Village, the second was spurred by a building boom that occurred as another wave of people tried to escape the tenements for safer living conditions during the 1832 cholera epidemic. The city spread farther north to Gramercy Park in 1842 when the reservoir was complete. 

This house at 77 Beford Street is considered to be the oldest original home in Greenwich Village, depending on how you define the boundaries of the village, and depending on if you count the fact that it was significantly upgraded in 1832 as a mark against its authenticity. Rabbit hole, here.

As New Yorkers with the means to do so moved further north and closer to Central Park, the Park seems to have had a sort of “greening” influence on the rest of the city, spreading clean air and water southwards into the working class and immigrant communities in the city. In the 1860’s and 70’s, the city of New York took its first steps towards operating as a housing authority, passing laws requiring that tenements begin offering indoor, running water and at least one window to the outdoors in each unit (creating the dog-bone or dumbbell shape we know today). In an effort to bring running water and centralized sewage service further south into Manhattan, the city began tearing up the streets and installing sewer pipes. When the streets were repaved, they used materials like concrete and asphalt to allow for weekly street washing and sweeping services. City planners began including space for alleyways in their designs, so that trash didn’t have to be placed directly on the street.*

This photo by Jacob Riis from “How The Other Half Lives” was an expose on tenement living conditions. Homes were often extremely poorly ventilated, often without any kind of exterior doors or windows. Sinks were shared among many residents, and bathrooms were outdoor outhouses. 

This article from the Central Park Conservancy argues that we should think of Central Park itself as a critical piece of public health infrastructure. Olmstead’s park provided clean air and water to New York residents at a time when many didn’t have running water, a window to the outside, or a way to escape the garbage and sewage in the streets. But as time went on, the Park not only provided a place to escape to, but a place that established an ideal: that clean water and air should be brought to all parts of the city for all citizens to enjoy, not just within the 1.3 square miles of park boundary- and over time, the city housing authority made steps toward that ideal.

“All these influences have a strangely powerful force,” writes an 1870’s guidebook to Central Park, about the power of a visit to the Park. “They compel the soul. It is almost impossible to do any thing in the park but rest, breath sweet air, and enjoy.”

“Do your Part” Coronavirus warning sign at Mt. Tabor over the summer.

I’m interested to see the ways in which Portland residents are enjoying those same benefits today, in light of a global pandemic. I’m also interested to see the other ways this cycle repeats. Will we see a post-pandemic return to the suburbs as people retreat from densely-populated and “unclean” urban areas? What kinds of infrastructural changes will be made to our built environment as city planners and urban designers imagine the next public health crisis?

Liner Notes:

*RE: reservoir- kind of. There was an older, rectangular reservoir built in 1842 that was later replaced  in 1860 with a more organic shaped reservoir designed to better fit in with the nature-inspired elements of central park, and that reservoir has also been replaced by the one there today. I could have been more careful about this in writing but I think it’s safe to say that a reservoir (of some shape) occupied that spot (in general) in the park since 1842.

*RE Alleyways- Yes, they began making space for alleyways, but large sections of Manhattan were built before this need for alleys was realized, and they couldn’t exactly go back and put them there, so there are virtually no alleyways in Manhattan; most are in other boroughs.

I acknowledge that New York City has a rocky history with parks; see Jane Jacob’s description of parks as places that provide cover for youth to bully other youth; see Robert Moses’ time in New York City and the overt racism he displayed when choosing the locations of parks and sites for playground equipment. Even within the 1840s, there would have been race and class dynamics at play, too- not everyone would have had equitable access to a public health resource like Central Park. This warrants its own investigation and I felt like I didn’t have the sources nor the scope to include that here. If anyone has any sources that talk about access to parks in the 19th and early 20th century, I’d like to know!

[newagesispage]

                                                                            JUNE    2020

PAGE RIB

FX and Ryan Murphy will bring us season 10 of American Horror Story next year. The cast includes Mac Culkin, Kathy Bates, Sarah Paulson, Evan peters, Billie Lourd, Lily Rabe and Finn Wittrock. There will also be a spinoff called, wait for it, American Horror Stories. Woo Hoo!!

*****

Reno 911 is back

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I happen to have a clementine in my butt. –Jimmy Kimmel

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NASA got their dragon launch. It is unfortunate that they had to compete with the current cycle.

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Sam Springsteen (son of Patti and Bruce) has been sworn in as a Jersey City firefighter.

*****

Ryan Murphy’s Hollywood is great. I don’t know how to feel about the fast and the loose and the nice made up endings like Once upon a time in Hollywood.  Will this be a trend??** Another great one on Netflix is, Have a good trip.

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Are there biopics in the works for Michael and Janet Jackson, Whitney Houston, the Bee Gees and Bowie?? That is the word.

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Days alert: Look for Lani to become pregnant. Eli and Justin are both thinking marriage. Claire is back which will bring Shawn and Belle back. Gabi may be kidnapped. Word is that July will have a wedding every week that will lead to a funeral.  Allie Horton is all grown up and heading back with a secret. Will she be like Mom, Sami?? Brady thinks that ruining Titan will get back at Victor. Sonny and Will may get a chance at another child. Eve may be back later in the summer. And, C’mon Xander, do something wonderful to get your woman back. Lucas may be on the way back and Orpheus is leaving. ** Judi Evans (Adrienne) had a serious horseback riding accident on May 16. She had broken ribs, a collapsed lung and 2 chipped vertebrae. The good news was in the hospital they discovered a blood clot so the whole thing saved her life.

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Morton Buildings is being sued by 2 women for harassment and discrimination. One incident claims an employee said, “God created women by lining up all the men and castrating the stupid ones.” Another lawsuit was filed in 2009.**Thanks for the tip, Di.

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If you expect elementary school children to endure the trauma of active shooter drills for your freedoms, you can wear a mask to Costco. –Sara Elizabeth Dill

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House republicans have sued Pelosi to block proxy voting.

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Seth Rogan, Steve Carell and Ben Schwartz are donating funds to bailout Minneapolis protestors after the death of George Floyd.** The country has been turned upside down as another cop kills another black man. No need to rehash, we have all seen it. I wonder if those four horrible cops are proud of what they have done to their city. Could we finally have a tipping point in this time when racism is spotlighted with our racist President? After many incidents in just the past couple of weeks and everyone on edge with coronavirus, it has boiled over. Scary Clown threatens to start shooting as Minneapolis burns down. Burn down a police station, get a cop arrested (finally)? Seems worth it to me. The way the killer looked into the camera as if he was just so proud is gonna stick with us as it should.  ** A CNN crew were arrested live on the air but released later after Jeff Zucker spoke to Gov. Walz.**  Liberate Minnesota was the Trump tweet, well, they are working on it.** I am hearing people saying in all sincerity lately that it is time for the humans to go, we are ruining each other and the planet.

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If you have not seen the Killer Mike speech from Atlanta, you need to check it out.** Netflix, Hulu and Paramount are taking a stand and showing support for the Black lives matter movement.

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John Cusack put out video of police coming at him with batons and pepper sprayed him as he protested in Chicago. More than 1000 were arrested and it continues.** In Flint, Sheriff Chris Swanson and other police put down helmets and joined the protestors. Police in Schenectady took a knee and joined the march. The behavior is spreading and look what a difference it makes, could they be starting to get it?

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Never thought I’d say this but in light of everything that is happening, the DNC made a big mistake in not backing Berne Sanders. –Pete Buttigieg ** Ok, first, of course he is right but you helped set this all in motion. It is a bit late for that …or is it? Biden is not the OFFICIAL nom, the deal is not done yet. Will Bernie jump back in the race?? Perhaps we will soon see BERNE FOR PRESIDENT again.

*****

American carnage was a self -fulfilling prophecy, alas. –Susan Glasser

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Scary Clown 45 has designated Antifa a terrorist organization. ** There is no legal authority for designating a domestic group, any such designation would raise significant concerns. –ACLU

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In any season, police violence is an injustice, but its harm is elevated amidst the remarkable stress people are facing amidst covid-19. Even now, there is evidence of excessive police initiated force and unwarranted shootings of civilians, some of which have been fatal. –American Medical Association.

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Washington Week had a great discussion about how all the ills in US history have played out in 2020. Impeachment, pandemic, depression and civil unrest are all here at once.

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Word is that Trevor Noah has been proven much more popular than the other late night hosts since they have been at home.

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I predict the picture of the upside down flag with the backdrop of the burning liquor store will be the lasting image of the Trump Presidency.

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This is the Presidency George Wallace never had. –Max Boot

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Spanish flu, Polio, Aids, Covid-19: Why don’t people get any smarter? The masses (and sometimes those in charge) can get it wrong over and over again. From Dr.? Phil and Dr Oz and their cavalier attitude toward death to Rosie wanting her son to take a leave of absence from the grocery store, we just do not learn. Even before that, I can’t forget the woman who wanted to change her vote after she found out Buttigieg was married to a man. Is she even a dem? Do your research people! Respect others, people!! Have compassion, stop being so selfish and use your brains!!** Puerto Rico was a pre curser to the pandemic response.

*****

Amy Cooper Chris Cooper? WTF? Another liberal who is not really liberal.

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Crime in general is down and police shootings are up. And yes, now the opportunists are out of control and anger is boiling over but protests against police brutality causing police brutality is WRONG!

*****

Check out the book, What makes a marriage last, from Marlo Thomas and Phil Donahue.

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Ben Taub, Barry Blitt and Colson Whitehead have won the Pulitzer Prize.

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Word is that Nick Cage will play Joe Exotic of Tiger King fame. Of course he will.

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I refuse to wear a mask because God did not have us born with one.- Nino Vitali** How many people have you heard say, “The President isn’t wearing a mask, so I don’t have to.”

*****

It looks like Apple will partner with Paramount for Scorsese’s adaptation of Killers of the Flower Moon.

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Oh my: Scary Clown is having a twitter feud with twitter!  He has to, of course, lash out and now signs an executive order targeting social media. He is going on about section 230 which gives immunity to social media companies against being sued over content.  It could curb liability protection. Experts say it will only encourage lawsuits because he does not want to be edited.

*****

If Native American tribes were counted as states, the five most infected states in the US would all be native tribes. –Nicholas Kristof

*****

Did ya see that Jeff Epstein doc from James Patterson. It is lays blame in all directions. Why does it seem like all these old guys on there with all that money have such yellow teeth?

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Lindsey Graham is urging Federal judges in their mid to late 60’s to step down so they can fill the spots with republicans.

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Richard McGuire tried to live at Disney World in a zoological park that was closed down.

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Caterpillar, Levi, Black and Decker and others have cut jobs but gave millions to shareholders.

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Axl Rose and Steve Mnuchin had a twitter feud.

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China announced plans to introduce a National Security law in Hong Kong. The law enables mainland Chinese National security agencies to operate in the city for the first time. Using a rarely used constitutional method, they bypassed Hong Kong legislature. Since the former British colony became a semi-autonomous region of China more than 20 years ago, they have manages its own affairs. The law will affect media, education, politics and international business. Many acts will now be criminalized. Hong Kong is party to international treaties guaranteeing civil liberties that China is not. The U.S. is urging Bejing to reconsider. Pro- democracy demonstrators in Hong Kong were tear gassed as they yelled, “Liberate Hong Kong, revolution of our times.”

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The Michael Flynn charges were dropped.

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Holyoke soldier’s home in Massachusetts lost 70 souls to Coronavirus. AP photographer David Goldman got a projector and cast big pictures the vets onto the homes of loved ones. Each one had a story including one vet who was sent to Nuremberg to guard Nazis. He claimed to have filled Hermann Goring’s glass with toilet water.

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The swimming Dinosaur, Spinosaurus has been getting a lot of attention.  The Sahara desert which was once massive rivers kept the first intact aquatic dinosaur.  With a snout, teeth and jaw like a croc, it is so far the only known kind of dinosaur that lived in the water.  The 50 foot long bizarre fin-like tail is like a giant paddle.  Paleontologists encourage others to have a look at other fossils to see if there are more.

*****

Octavia Spencer is said to have been telling everyone she is a year younger than she is. She is turning 50.

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The $69 million ventilator scam. Really? The White House heard from a guy who told them he could supply the product so the WH told NY to order them and stood behind the guy but it was a scam. Scary Clown sure loves his shady people, intentional or not.** A Florida woman, Rebecca Jones claims that she was asked to fudge the numbers to make reopening look better. ** Georgia moved their dates around on a graph to make their cases seem flattened. ** For 17 months, Florida investigated voter fraud for Trump and Gov. Scott. They found NOTHING!!

*****

Amazon stock price is up 25% yet they have become notorious for the terrible way they treat their workers. Bezos is set to become a trillionaire.

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We have to remember that order comes from chaos. True enhancements can come from large scale crisis. What will we learn from this one? This is a warning!!** Universal health care? No more buffets? ** Prices will probably go up everywhere what with the closings and all the extra cleaning. I hope this means that hotel bedspreads will be cleaned after every stay.  It looks like there may be no cocktails or food on planes.

*****

Take a virtual tour of the statue of liberty. All the fun without all the swaying.

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Local PBS stations are making it easier to learn. Students will be able to put on a channel for lessons that does not need cable or internet. Woo Hoo!!

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Insiders say that Trump threatened to sue his campaign manager because he did not agree with his assessment and the poll numbers in a 2 day rant.** Just one more example of Scary Clown double talk. Then: Less testing, less positives. Now: So much testing is a badge of honor.**Doctors without Borders are now here, not the third world countries that they usually help, it is US.

*****

Haven’t we had enough of powerful men being accused? A female Dem candidate would have been nice and Bernie did not seem to have any baggage that way either.

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Will the Senate see fit to ok some more stimulus $? 4 trillion to prop up Wall Street seems per the usual. Enough for them, let’s take care of those small businesses and those really in need.

*****

Thao and the get down stay down is one of the best in this internet entertainment era.

*****

Check out Stars in the House with Tony Shalhoub and others.

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The Detectorists on Acorn TV is a great little show!!

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Happy Day! There is a new season of At Home with Amy Sedaris!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

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It looks like Pier 1 will permanently close as well as JC Penney, J Crew, Sears and Neiman Marcus.

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Check out the wonderful, This is about Humanity!!

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Have U seen the trailer for The King of Staten Island?? OMG Pete Davidson, Steve Buschemi and Marisa Tomei , just to name a few!! I can’t fucking wait!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

*****

Bill Maher looked really high on his 5-22-20 show. This working from home makes him much more mellow!!

*****

3 Russian doctors treating coronavirus have fallen out of windows in about a weeks time.** Russia boasts that it has more ventilators per capita than the U.S. After they made fun of us, on May 22, the first shipment of U.S. ventilators headed to Russia. They are a gift from Trump and the U.S. taxpayers. –Julia Davis

*****

State Department Inspector General Steve Linick is out.  Was he investigating Pompeo?  Trump never knows anything about any of it. Why are all the protectors of the rule of law thrown out?  ** Was Pompeo throwing lavish foreign policy dinners with Reba, Dale Jr. and the owners of that horrid chicken sandwich place? ** The clean water rule has been suspended which cuts protections for most of the country’s wetlands.

*****

The market facilitation program has been helping small farmers over the last few years in a $28 billion bailout. Trump’s sanctions brought this on and the corona virus has made it worse.  Mostly the money has helped bankers and bigger farms. Much like the stimulus $ that was earmarked for small business, there are loopholes that screw up the ‘rules.’ The cap is not being followed like they may say because the $ is going to “investors” in the farm and often not the actual farmer who works on a smaller scale. A small farm run by family members may not get the bailout. It seems to be more important to get a good lawyer who can manipulate the paperwork.  Sad that taxpayer $ is used this way.

*****

Just in time, the Space Force flag and plans for the super duper missile have been unveiled. WTF??

*****

Paula Poundstone is a woman I knew I liked. She was recently talking about not liking couches. I thought I was the only one, People are always telling me how much they love their couches and I don’t get it.

*****

Jeff Gibbs and Michael Moore are upset after Youtube pulled their doc, Planet of the Humans. After 8.3 million views, there was a copyright claim by Toby Smith of about 4 seconds of footage.  Now , this is not the first time that Moore has had problems with content in one of his movies.  Many have claimed there is a lot of fiction in this latest venture. I think I would just remove the possible copyright infringement and move on. It can now be seen on Vimeo.

A Florida law that restricts felon voting is found unconstitutional by a federal judge.** The RNC filed a lawsuit against California to stop mailing ballots to registered voters.

*****

R.I.P. Little Richard, Roy Horn, Jerry Stiller, Sam Lloyd, Ann Sullivan, Mike Cogswell, Michael Keenan, Shirley Knight, Irrfan Khan, Hana Kimura, Forrest Compton, Jimmy Cobb, George Floyd, Ken Osmomd, all the corona victims, Lynn Shelton, Richard Herd, Larry Kramer, Ahmaud Arbery, Breonna Taylor, Anthony James, Fred Willard and Carolyn Busch.

[daresplaining]

“Purple” Part 3: Several Matt Murdocks Walk into a Bar...

    As much as I dislike the ramifications of the Purple Children’s decision to “solve” Matt’s secret identity dilemma by making everyone forget it, the “Purple” arc that establishes this plot point is quite good. The progression of Matt’s feelings about having a public identity from where Waid left him to the present makes logical sense, and his struggles to figure out how to deal with his escalating problems in this new status quo make for an emotional read. The mind wipe was not his idea, and he has mixed feelings about it, which I appreciate.

    However, for the sake of this run overview, I wanted to highlight #19 in particular, which is a stand-out issue that works just as well as a one-shot as it does an integrated part of the run, and which showcases a vital and-- I think-- perfectly in-character element of Matt’s personality. 

    For this story we are back in Matt’s head, though the landscape of the place looks significantly different than it did in issue #8, thanks to the intrusion of the Purple Man. While Matt’s blindness has always given him a degree of protection against Purple Man’s specific brand of mind-control, in this story arc he has found a way to amp up the potency and reach of his powers by using his children. This issue follows what happens to Matt while under the Purple Man’s sway, and switches back-and-forth between the real world and Matt’s mind-controlled subconscious, which here takes the form of a rather unusual bar.       

    This issue is pencilled and inked by guest artist Marc Laming, who is one of my favorite artists to work on Soule’s run. His work is beautifully detailed and expressive, and he and colorists Matt Milla and Miroslav Mrva do a great job of depicting the many Daredevils (and a few of their significant others) from throughout the comic’s history who populate the bar. For anyone not up on their DD continuity, here’s a breakdown: 

    With one of his greatest nemeses now finally under his full control, the Purple Man is eager to have some revenge. But instead of inflicting his own flavor of  pain on Matt, he decides to take a more insidious approach: he asks Matt to name the worst thing he (Matt) could possibly imagine himself doing. Something repulsive, that would break him were he to actually carry it out. This becomes a topic of debate for the Matts in the bar, each of whom has their own answer.

“Man Without Fear” Matt: “You lose control. You put your hands on the people who can’t defend themselves. You let the darkness out. You hear the bones splintering. You smell the blood, the coppery, swampy blood. You know the exact moment their hearts stop.”

Public Identity Matt: “Easy there, friend. We’re all just trying to have a good time here. How about you get back over there and I’ll buy you a drink?”

“Man Without Fear” Matt: “Who the hell are you supposed to be?”

Public Identity Matt: “Oh, you know.”

    (Please note Public Identity Matt, Foggy, and Kirsten’s facial expressions in the first panel. They crack me up.)

    It’s not only fun, on a geeky level, to see all these different versions of the Daredevil identity fight interact with each other, but it’s also a great way of exploring the huge range of character development Matt has experienced-- which is something I’ve always loved about him. Matt’s mindset and approach to superheroing, and the tone of the stories, encompasses such a huge range that all of the Matts in the bar have slightly different personalities based on where he was, mentally, at the time. And it’s logical that all of these different perspectives and conflicting ideologies are still present in the back of his mind. Matt has always been a complex character, and this issue gifts us a visual representation of that. 

    Black Suit Matt’s presence here is worth pointing out, because he is the result of some messy continuity that has never been resolved. He’s from the Man Without Fear mini-series, which is Frank Miller and John Romita Jr.’s alternate universe re-imagining of Matt’s origin story. It’s much more brutal and violent than Stan Lee’s version, and features a shuffling of the timeline that resulted in Jack dying while Matt was still in high school. Despite the fact that it was not written as a retcon, writers on the main DD series were quick to integrate elements of MWF into 616 Matt’s backstory. But it wasn’t a complete reboot; Matt’s yellow costume is still considered his first by most writers (it’s even in this issue!), Jack still died while Matt was in college (...or law school), and so Black Suit Man Without Fear Matt exists in a strange limbo, not quite canon but still somehow part of the 616 universe. 

    But for the sake of this issue, it’s best to just not think about it too hard. Here, he represents the most violent side of Matt’s psyche, which inspires his first response to the Purple Man’s question: which is seemingly to kill Kirsten. 

Kirsten: “Matt! What are you... What are you doing? Why are you with the Purple Man?”

Purple Man: “Be patient, Kirsten the Girlfriend! You don’t want to spoil the surprise.”

Matt: “You know... no. This feels a little small. I mean, I’ve lost girlfriends before. This would be terrible, sure, but... been there, done that. I can do better. Or worse, actually.”

    ...PHEW. Fortunately, Matt talks himself out of it. 

    If the issue were longer, we might have heard all of the Daredevils’ ideas, but sadly we only get a few more. 

Yellow Suit Matt: “You’re making this too complicated. Keep it simple. Get back to your roots.”

Armored Matt: “Wrong, idiot! You’re not thinking big enough, Murdock. The worst thing needs to be... extreme.”

    Again, part of the entertainment value of this issue is seeing the different Daredevils react to each other, and Soule makes a point of pairing the chipper DDs with the, shall we say, less psychologically healthy ones. And it’s worth noting that the two solid answers to the Purple Man’s question that Matt comes up with are both put forth by his darker identities; as mentioned, Man Without Fear Matt is emotionally raw by design, and while the armored suit period in the 90s wasn’t actually, relatively speaking, that depressing, it was a reinvention of Daredevil that Matt intended to be violent and frightening. And it makes sense that these darker DDs would have an easier time dredging up worst case scenarios. Frankly, it’s surprising that Volume 2 Matt-- arguably the darkest DD of all-- didn’t jump into the conversation (but maybe he was too distracted by hanging out with Milla (see above), and who can blame him?). 

    It’s also clever that the whole discussion is mediated by the one Matt who isn’t a superhero: Matt the Lawyer (who isn’t blind, which is a little weird). While the Daredevils represent all of the bombastic chaos of Matt’s impulses and emotions, Lawyer Matt sorts through their answers from a slightly removed vantage point and tries to apply logic to them. He is the clever, analytical part of Matt’s mind, and I love that he essentially serves as the main character for this issue. 

    Armored Matt (actually, his civilian identity was Jack Batlin, if we want to be really precise about this) makes the requisite “extreme!” 90s comics joke-- which made me laugh out loud the first time I read this issue-- and that leads Lawyer Matt to figure out his final answer. He requests that the Purple Man create worldwide chaos using his newly enhanced powers. And from what Matt and the reader can tell, he does. And then Matt explains what he has in mind.  

Purple Man: “...Now what?”

Lawyer Matt: “Nothing.”

Purple Man: “Wait... what? Nothing?”

Lawyer Matt: “Yes. This is the worst thing. The entire world goes to hell, I know about it, I have the power to help, and I do... nothing.”

Purple Man: “WHAT?”

    Arguments can be made about whether this is the actual worst thing Matt can imagine himself doing. That’s kind of the point of the issue, and I’m sure the answer changes daily for Matt. But it fits, and brings him-- as Yellow Suit DD advises-- “back to [his] roots”. The Daredevil identity serves many purposes for Matt, but one of its main functions is as a tool of empowerment. Its initial purpose was to give him a way to avenge his father’s death without breaking his promise to not become a fighter. After growing up unable to defend himself from bullies, unable to use his training (once he acquired it) out in the open, and ultimately unable to protect the person who meant most to him, he put on a mask and gave himself an alias, and thereby empowered himself to break free of that cycle of helplessness. Losing that power is certainly one of his greatest fears, and so the idea of choosing to render himself useless would be horrifying to him. 

    This is also a theme of Soule’s run in particular. This arc deals with the deterioration of the wonderful life he built for himself, Kirsten, and Foggy in San Francisco-- a destruction that is partly his fault, and which he is powerless to stop. It leads to the Purple Children’s decision to make the world forget Daredevil’s secret identity-- a decision in what Matt had no say. In the arc before this, Matt nearly commits suicide because he was unable to stop Muse from blinding Sam. And of course, the final arc of the run-- “The Death of Daredevil”-- is all about powerlessness; Matt achieves a huge victory over the Kingpin, then realizes it was just a dream. But the lesson inherent in Soule’s run is that whether or not he wins, Matt will never choose to not fight. 

    This moment of clarity and self-awareness, and the realization that his worst nightmare is actually coming true and he needs to stop it, allows Matt to break free of the mind control. He kicks the Purple Man’s butt and saves the Purple Children, who repay him by “solving” his secret identity issues (Hey, at least they meant well. I love the Purple Children...) But regardless of the unfortunate outcome, this is a great battle of wills between Matt and one of his most dangerous enemies, and is definitely one of my favorite single issues of the run.  

#Daredevil vol. 5 #Daredevil #Matt Murdock #Purple Man #Zebediah Killgrave #Commentary #Adventures in Continuity

[filligan-universe]

Game Review: CRASH BANDICOOT: THE N. SANE TRILOGY (2017)

Whoa! [Translation: Click “Keep Reading”]

Oh, how I have waited for this day...

The year is 1998, or something. My mom bought me a PS1 and, what was probably recommended to her by the Futureshop employee on shift at the time, Crash Bandicoot. The original. The first. The beginning. The hardest fucking thing I’d never played.

8-year-old me was dumb, though. I sunk around twenty hours into Jersey Devil without ever understanding its mechanics or how to progress (a couple years back I thought, “How did you progress in that game?” and found out that you progress like any other free-roam platform and 8-year-old me was just an idiot who liked the game’s spooky aesthetic). I played the shit out of Beast Wars and could rarely progress (in fairness, that game was tough). It took me maybe a year to get to Darth Maul in the Phantom Menace game, but I could never beat him. Then I lost the save file, tried again, and got stuck in a Rancor pit halfway through the game, inexplicably decided to save my game there, and from then on insta-died every time I loaded it back up. 

But Crash is a fairly linear platformer, and those I understood from my SNES days. What Crash beat into me and thousands of kids around the world was that the hand-holding days of cute dinosaurs was over. See that fish? That innocent little fish flopping around? IT JUST MURDERED YOU. Oh, you fell in the water? Haha -- NOW YOU’RE DROWNING AND DEAD LOOK AT YOUR FLOATING CORPSE. 

1998 was also in the era of cheat code books and passwords. I made it, impressively I think, to Road to Nowhere before I gave up and found myself copying these codes down. Once I unlocked free movement across all levels, most of my time in Crash Bandicoot was spent fighting all of the bosses in succession (the hardest is N. Brio by the way). Levels like Road to Nowhere, Slippery Climb, The Lab -- these never got touched. I beat the system so I didn’t have to beat the levels.

Then Crash 2 came out. And I beat it from start to finished. Ditto Crash 3. So enough down memory lane; how does the remade trilogy stand up?

The answer is: pretty goddamn perfectly. There are some things I’ll address, but the overall package is sharp and faithful. It feels like re-living the games of my single-digit years and that was the biggest box Vicarious Visions had to check. They’ve tszujed up that bandicoot sheen while recapturing the fun of Naughty Dog’s original gameplay. Were this a remaster instead of a remake using assets from the PS1 classics, it wouldn’t be so remarkable, but VV built this from scratch and still managed to nail everything. Huge kudos to them on this. Not sure anything of this magnitude has been achieved -- remake-wise -- in the industry before. 

When the game released, the Crash Bandicoot subreddit exploded. Highest among the complaints were: jumping is off, hitboxes are off, and Crash’s shoes have been coated with bacon grease. And they weren’t technically wrong: these things are changed from the original games. Jumps are not as high as they were and I don’t remember having to hold X in the first one to gain distance. Hitboxes can be wacky and drastically different from what they were in the originals, making veteran players misjudge when to spin. And Crash doesn’t land flat on surface edges anymore -- with today’s scary technology, he can realistically slip off instead of standing on 85% thin air. Creepy! Wrong! Worst game ever! Back to the PS1 classics that look like ass on my 70″ 4K HDTV!

I was in the same camp when I first booted up The N. Sane Trilogy. My first death was on the very first game on the very first level on the very first enemy. One of those giant fuckin’ crabs that you only see in level one because they’re huge and slow and the training wheels are still on. It killed me because I spun when I always used to spin in the original, and that was wrong. The hitbox for them changed. This probably caused most of my frustration with all three games for the first several hours, but I’m what the baby boomers call a “video-machine gamer,” all right? I’m adaptable. I can alter my approach to things. I can learn from errors. And a changed hitbox, as it turns out, is not the same thing as a broken hitbox. You just re-learn when to spin stuff. Now I’m not bothered by it.

Same goes for the jump. Mastering this again took time and patience, especially with certain parts of the game that don’t function properly like the ice physics in Crash 2. However, after nailing when to hold X for greater height and understanding that now Crash needs a more precise landing to avoid slipping, I’ve gotten adept at this as well. All of this is to say that those players who initially flipped out at these tweaks were hopefully just following their gut reactions like me but have now adjusted and are now having fun -- like me. 

The slipping, though, man. It makes Crash 1 even harder than it was, but I still won’t call it a mistake. From what I’ve ascertained, Crash’s character model is now pill-shaped, meaning he’s gonna slip, all right? It’s just gonna happen. BONUS: watch me, in the Twitch chat room for my friend’s first play-through of this game, try to offer this advice and him taking it the wrong way.

So what are the biggest criticisms I can levy against the trilogy? Well, the music stands out as subpar, especially in direct comparison to the louder, more interesting original score. The new music feels timid -- like it’s afraid to be the bombastic presence it was in the classics. A more faithful approach to the music’s original sounds would’ve been appreciated. I’m still listening to the original score because the new one is too orchestral. It’s not as video-gamey -- not as wacky, and so that charm and atmosphere are lacking in the new trilogy. Here are some comparisons:

Temple Ruins [Original]

Temple Ruins [Remastered]

Crash Dash [Original]

Crash Dash [Remastered]

This isn’t to say the music is bad or that every remastered track is worse than its original counterpart (see: Hang Eight, Toad Village, Toxic Waste, & Future Frenzy for just a few examples of excellent new takes), but even when the music is worthy of the original score it often fades into the background and gets lost in the sound effects. I know you can adjust the volume settings to make the music louder, but I shouldn’t have to, nor do I want to -- I like all the noises in Crash Bandicoot (except the goddamn didgeridoo Crash-angel plays). This is just an area where the flame doesn’t burn as brightly as it ought to.

Also? I don’t like Cortex’s design or voice. Or most of the voice acting in general. I don’t mind how Crash sounds, but I’ve been hearing John DiMaggio voice every character in existence since 2006 and now when I hear him I can’t unhear him -- I know it’s him. Kind of like when you know Tom Kenny voices Spongebob, you’ll always know when Tom Kenny shows up in something. I know the original actor for Dingodile died 12 years ago but come on. I blame Twinsanity for this, which was the first time the series saw a massive design shift and Cortex became the weird cartoon he is now. He’s lost his menace. 

I think it’s the gums. I miss Cortex’s gums. 

Cutscenes are particularly bad in Crash 2 whenever Cortex addresses you in the warp room. There are no effects to show Coco taking over the broadcast. Seems kinda lazy. 

These complaints are superficial to a quality game, though. I did something 8-year-old me couldn’t do the other day: beat Crash Bandicoot without any cheat codes. I sweat and swore through The High Road and Slippery Climb, came out of it, and climbed the tower to kick Cortex off it. That feeling of accomplishment has been missed in most games these days. And now I find myself obsessing over gems. Those clear sparklies that 8-year-old me never sought because I’d shrugged them off as “way too hard” to get. I’m over halfway to nabbing them all in each game and I’m going -- oh yes, I’m going to get that motherfucking red gem on Slippery Climb. I spent 45 minutes trying to get the yellow gem on The Lab, you think I’m gonna stop now? I’ve got a collectible mind, motherfucker. I can’t pass that shit up. I’ll probably snap my controller but that’s all right because you know what? I’m a fucking adult now and I can just buy a new one. Fucking red gem!!

...Yeah, so, I love this game.

#Crash Bandicoot #Crash Bandicoot N Sane Trilogy #Crash Bandicoot 2 #Crash Bandicoot Warped #Crash Bandicoot N Sane Trilogy review #Crash Bandicoot remastered #Crash Bandicoot comparison #Crash Bandicoot Cortex #Crash Bandicoot soundtrack #Crash Bandicoot music #Crash Bandicoot gameplay #Crash Bandicoot remake #N Sane Trilogy review

[howterrifying]

+sherlolly: the admirer (final chapter)

 I honestly never thought this day would come, but here it is! I hope this was all worth your while, my dears! I hope you'll enjoy the bonus epilogue at the end. ;) Ahhh, this is it! To those who have made it thus far, I wish I had a huge medal to give you, or like a big cheque for your time but unfortunately, all I have to give is my love and gratitude. Thank you so much for sticking with this drama queen. xx

::

All previous chapters of The Admirer can be found here or on FF.net.

The Admirer: The final chapter

It was just two days before the 18th of May, the day of John and Mary’s wedding and by some miracle, Mary had managed to get Molly’s dress done in time. At first, Molly had been hesitant to be part of Mary’s bridal party but Mary had insisted, saying Sherlock’s expression would be worth all of this. The thought of what Sherlock would think or say sent both excitement and terror through Molly. Buying a ticket home and wrapping everything up in Japan (with plenty of Ayumi and Mycroft’s help of course) had been the single most impulsive thing she had done. Still, she could not deny the current of anticipation that ran through her every time she thought of seeing Sherlock again. She imagined his face and wondered if it would be filled with the same anticipation and delight. Molly was positive he would be delighted to be reunited with Scott, but she was never sure what his response to her would be. Perhaps she had read it all wrong and he had indeed adjusted back to his Baker Street life as a solitary unit bound only to his work. Yet, her instincts told her something else, which was what ultimately pushed her to take the risk and come back home to London. “Oh, Molly, I know you were afraid lilac wasn’t really your colour but just look how lovely it works on you…” said Mary, delighted. “I suppose it does work,” Molly remarked, smiling as she studied her reflection. “Thank you for rushing to get this done. I told Mycroft going incognito as a guest was more than enough…” “You? A simple guest?” Mary said with a chuckle, “Nonsense. You’re more important than you realise, Molly Hooper. And, like I said, Sherlock’s face when he sees you walking down that aisle is going to be worth everything.” When the ladies were done with the fitting, Mary pulled Molly in for a hug and whispered, “You know, he will be so happy to see you, Molly…” “Will he?” Molly asked, “Sometimes I’m not sure what I’ve just done…” “Well, has it made you happy?” “Yes. So far it has.” “Then that’s all there is to it.” Mary gave Molly a quick peck on the cheek and another reassuring squeeze before letting her go. The two of them parted ways, both with smiles on their faces. A very important day was coming up, not just for the Watsons, but for Molly Hooper too. — “I know you don’t think I’m very busy, Mycroft…I mean, I don’t run errands for the Queen or protect the whole of England but I can’t just be summoned out from my own clinic at your beck and call, you know…” remarked a rather exasperated John who was being ushered into Mycroft’s office again. “I would never leave your practice in the lurch, John. My stand-in doctors are running your clinic as though you’d never left it.” “Well, that’s reassuring,” John replied, sinking with resignation into an armchair. “We need to discuss the wedding,” said Mycroft, cutting straight to the point.” John sighed. On one hand, he was overjoyed that the woman who was clearly important to his best friend was finally back home and was possibly going to make their wedding even more special than they could have ever imagined. On the other hand, however, it meant even more incessant interruption from Mycroft and more meddling from the British government than John could have ever anticipated. “Are you going to bomb-sweep the venue again or something?” asked John, pinching the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. “Oh, no, no,” Mycroft said with a dismissive laugh, “Bomb-sweeps are things of the past. We have new methods now that I cannot tell you about.” “Pity. I was all ears…” “I need to know that you’ve managed to keep Molly Hooper’s arrival secret from Sherlock. I imagine he’s spending lots of time with you and Mary as the wedding draws near. He’s rather involved in all its operations, is he not?” “A little too involved, in fact,” John said, “Which worries me sometimes but Mary finds it amusing.” “Oh, I wouldn’t worry. It keeps him occupied, which is always a good thing.” “Well, with such reassurance from you and Mary, I guess I shan’t.” “But he doesn’t know about Molly, does he?” “Nope. Not even a genius like him has deduced a whiff of it.” “Good.” “Mary’s been the one calling the shots anyway. She’s awfully good at this. Makes me wonder if she was a spy in a past life or something…” said John with a chuckle. “Perhaps…” Mycroft answered wryly, “Who knows these days…” Suddenly, a knock came on the office door as one of Mycroft’s assistants appeared in the open doorway. “Sir, it’s done and ready for your inspection,” said the assistant quietly. “Already?” he asked the assistant, “I had been regretfully told to expect it until after the wedding…” “They were afraid to…upset your schedule, sir,” came the assistant’s reply. “This is splendid news,” said Mycroft, genuinely breaking into a smile. “What is?” asked John, marvelling at the sight of Mycroft’s actual teeth. Mycroft signalled to his assistant to ready his car as he picked up a few dossiers off his desk to read whilst on the way. “Come on, John,” said Mycroft, “I hadn’t expected such serendipitous timing but since you’re here I think you should join me.” “Where are we going and what am I joining you for?” “We’re off to Baker Street,” Mycroft replied, smiling, before turning to walk out of his office. When the two gentlemen arrived at Baker Street, John was surprised to see people moving in and out of the building, with Mrs Hudson standing by the door, beaming away in excitement. “Judging by that look on your face, Mrs Hudson, I trust it’s gone all to plan,” he said, greeting the landlady. “I couldn’t resist and had to take a peek,” she whispered excitedly. “Oh! Wasn’t expecting to see you here, John!” The landlady moved to give John a hug and a kiss on the cheek. When she saw John’s furrowed brows and the obvious confusion he was feeling, she could not help but laugh. “He doesn’t know, does he?” asked Mrs Hudson, turning to Mycroft. “Not in the least,” Mycroft replied. “Well, shall we?” With Mrs Hudson leading the way, the two gentlemen made their way up the stairs to Sherlock’s flat. When they emerged in Sherlock’s sitting room, they saw a few men dusting and vacuuming the area and obviously doing a massive clean-up. A few others were seen moving what looked like folded cardboard boxes and huge rubbish bags out from John’s room. “What on earth is going on here?” John exclaimed. “Why don’t you step into your old room and find out?” said Mycroft, very generously offering John the first view of what had been Mycroft’s secret project. “All right then,” said John with a nod. With a tentative step forward, John placed his hand on a familiar doorknob and twisted it open. When the door opened, the first thing that struck him was the smell of freshly sanded wood. In fact, there was the scent of overwhelming newness in the air. True enough, when John opened the door fully and stepped inside, the entire room was nothing like he had remembered. “Was this your idea, Mycroft?” John asked, smirking, turning to face Mycroft. “Well…” Mycroft seemed hesitant to answer. “Yes, it was,” Mrs Hudson answered on his behalf. “It was entirely his.” What John saw was an incredible transformation. The room had been newly wallpapered with a fresh, springtime-inspired design. Shades of lemon yellows and mint greens and blues peppered the design of the room, from the cushions on the new arm chairs, to the bedding of what was clearly the central feature of the room: a large, sturdy wooden cot. “This…is all for Scott,” John exclaimed in amusement, picking up a baby’s pillow and blanket that had Scott’s initials embroidered on them. “Isn’t it wonderful?” Mrs Hudson said, almost bursting with excitement. Indeed, what had been John’s old room was now converted into a most wonderful nursery. There was the sturdy, hand-finished wooden cot that Mycroft had designed by the best in the country, the luxurious armchair and side table, and the desk tucked in the corner, equipped with everything Molly needed in case she needed to work there. The nursery was beautifully lit with custom designed lighting and had everything from the drapes to the carpet finished to perfection. “That changing table looks like it costs more than my whole house, Mycroft…” John joked, walking over to a most impressive looking changing table with all sorts of customised features and secret drawers and compartments everywhere. “This is beautiful. I didn’t think it was possible, Mycroft, but you’ve really outdone yourself.” “Wait till you find out about all the security features in this room,” Mrs Hudson whispered to John.” The pair of them laughed as Mycroft stood, scanning the room, oblivious to their chatter. He was quietly examining that everything had been done according to his very meticulous demands. A small smile finally appeared when Mycroft had ascertained that everything was indeed in order. “I have a question, Mycroft,” John asked, snapping Mycroft out from his inspection. “Hmm?” “How did Sherlock not notice any of this?” “Simple, really…” Mycroft answered, walking over to check a hidden compartment in the window sill. “Surely he would have been irritated by all the people coming in and out…” continued John. “Locking this room wouldn’t have kept him out either…” There came a small laugh from Mycroft as he tapped a small section in the window sill only for a small little device to pop out from it. He bent to take a closer look at it and smiled in satisfaction that it had been properly installed before popping it back in. “All I had to do was to turn this into a blindspot,” Mycroft began, “and our mother is Sherlock’s greatest one.” “Oh god… Yes, I remember now…” John said, “I even asked if she was moving in.” “You did? Well I’m glad you did. Any additional mention of mother always helps. All it took for me was to mention our mother had something to do with the room and it sent him running. I could commit whole murders in here and he wouldn’t have had the slightest clue simply because he would have blocked everything out.” Mrs Hudson and John stood where they were, amazed at how Mycroft had allowed the largest clue to Molly’s arrival in London go unnoticed by Sherlock when it stood here, right in the heart of his own flat. “Right, I think we’d better go,” said Mycroft, turning to exit the nursery. “My brother is returning soon and we wouldn’t want to spoil everything, would we? Not after we’ve come this far.” — It was only the morning of the wedding day and John was already exhausted. He had spent the whole morning finding ways to stop Sherlock from going to inspect the bridal party in his compulsive bid to check that everything was in order. “It’s fine, Sherlock,” John said, “Mary’s got everything under control, her maid-of-honour’s there…the wedding planner’s there…” “Janine’s duties are confined to watching over Mary. As for that wedding planner you hired, well, let’s just say I could give him a run for his money…” “Look, Sherlock, we all know you’ve got this wedding planned to a T, so let’s just relax. How about you focus on getting us lads ready and to the church on time eh?” “I suppose I can’t be in two places at the same time…” “Sorry to remind you, Sherlock, but you’re not omnipresent.” “Well, we all have our shortcomings…” “Enough. Let’s just sort my tie out and get to the church…” The two men eventually stepped out of John’s suite and began walking to the church. Sherlock was still trying to hop over to the bridal suite because he was not confident the ladies knew what to do with their corsages or if they were going to hold their bouquets correctly. Eventually, with great patience and great persuasion, John managed to keep Sherlock quite literally out of the ladies’ hair and to the church to prepare for the ceremony. Before they knew it, the hustle and bustle of the morning began to settle as the wedding ceremony soon approached. John and Sherlock were stood by the altar at the end of the aisle, watching the church hall fill steadily with guests. “You nervous?” John asked Sherlock. “No. Are you?” “Of course, I am. I’m getting married.” “So why are you asking about me?” asked Sherlock. “You don’t like crowds, nor social events, nor anything sentimental or romantic. This is an unfortunate amalgamation of those things. I thought I’d just check.” “I’m fine,” said Sherlock, inhaling sharply. “This is your day. I won’t ruin it. I had promised.” “Well, just…take it easy, all right?” John said, amused, “The girls know what they’re doing. You have to let it go.” “But those bouquets have to be held precisely at the angle at which…” “Sherlock…” “Sorry. I’ll just…stand right here.” Sherlock had lied, of course. There was an impossible knot in the pit of his stomach. Him wanting to fuss over bouquets and corsages was his own way of distracting himself from the terrible anxiety he was feeling. As best man, his place beside John meant all those eyes that were looking at John also looked right at him. It did not help that much later on, he would have to give a best man’s speech in front of those very same people. Swallowing hard, Sherlock tried forgetting his anxiety by checking the flower arrangements on the pews and was just about to run down to adjust a slightly drooping leaf when John nudged Sherlock in the ribs to signal that things were about to begin. The pianist had taken her position as the vicar invited the congregation to stand. Sherlock felt a moment’s relief as all those gazes averted from where he was standing and moved to stare at the church entrance. When the doors swung upon, the day’s sunlight poured in and Sherlock could see the figure of the page boy walking in. As he relaxed, he found himself being able to smile a little. Sherlock took a quick glance at his best friend and saw that his eyes were already glistening with emotion. Nothing could have distracted John’s gaze from those open church doors as he stood in anticipation of his bride’s entrance. A few piano chords in, Sherlock could see Janine, the maid-of-honour, following behind the page boy. The first thing he did was to inspect the way she was holding the bouquet and was pleased she had remembered his instructions from the wedding rehearsals. Two more bouquets, he thought to himself as Janine continued walking down the aisle. There was the second bridesmaid, and then a few piano chords later, the third one, both holding their bouquets correctly, as per his rehearsal instructions. In a few more chords, Mary, in all her resplendent beauty would step through those doors and begin her walk down the aisle. No matter how nervous he was feeling, Sherlock could not help but be filled with excitement as he waited to see Mary, someone he now considered near and dear to him, come down the aisle. So when an unidentified fourth bridesmaid appeared in the church’s doorway and began her walk down the aisle, Sherlock felt his excitement turn into slight panic at this unexpected change of plan. However, as his eyes slowly focused on this fourth bridesmaid and as her identity slowly became apparent, it was no longer panic that he felt, but sheer disbelief. The wedding march music seemed to drown out as his ears filled with the sound of his heart pounding in his chest. When Mary eventually walked in, John caught her eye through her veil and they both smiled. Gesturing with a quick tilt of her head, Mary signalled to John to take a quick peek at his best friend. John turned around and had a swift glance at his friend who seemed transfixed by the fourth bridesmaid whom he knew by now was Molly Hooper. Trying his best not to laugh out loud, John turned back to focus his attention on Mary, whom, in a few moments, he would finally marry. The piano music reached its climax just as Mary reached to take the arm of John Watson. The maid-of-honour, the two bridesmaids and Molly all took their positions in a neat row beside the bride. Sherlock had not once stopped staring at Molly. The last time he had doubted what his eyes had seen was when he had been drugged by a powerful hallucinogen. Sherlock was sure nothing of that sort was in his bloodstream and yet, could not believe what he was seeing. As the guests took their seats and the church hall quietened down, Molly finally looked up from her bouquet to glance over to the groom’s side. There, her eyes met with Sherlock’s that had been locked in on her the entire duration. A gentle smile appeared on her lips and Sherlock, too shocked to respond, merely blinked in rapid succession, with his mouth slightly agape. Trying hard not to laugh, Molly bit down on the insides of her cheeks and returned her eyes to couple at the altar. This was their special day and she intended to give all of her attention to it. She would deal with the short-circuiting detective at a more appropriate time.   The wedding had gone perfectly according to plan and when the church bells rang, John and Mary raced down the aisle, hand in hand and laughing as the newlyweds, Mr and Mrs Watson. Molly and the other three bridesmaids ran after them, laughing and cheering as the guests clapped and threw flowers outside the church. Nothing but happiness filled the air and John and Mary’s faces shone brighter than the late morning sunshine. As the photographer snapped away and people continued cheering and clapping, the bridesmaids stood around the couple, smiling along with them and posing with their bouquets. “Just the couple now, please, if you don’t mind!” said the photographer, asking everyone in the bridal party to step out of frame. Everybody obliged and stepped aside whilst the photographer continued to take pictures, occasionally calling out instructions to the couple. Molly stood at the side, beaming away as she watched the happy couple clearly having one of the best moments of their lives. Being able to witness their happiness made Molly especially glad that she had come back, back home to her friends, to her family. “Do you have a moment?” came a quiet but not unfamiliar voice just behind her. Molly turned around and saw the very face she had come back for smiling gently at her. She nodded, smiling in return. Sherlock extended his arm and she took it. Together, they slipped back into the church, away from the revellers. With her arm looped comfortably in his, the pair of them walked quietly into the church, unaware of the amusing fact that they were in fact strolling slowly down the aisle. Sherlock led them to the very first row of pews and sat down. Molly joined him and the two of them took a moment to enjoy the peace and quiet of the empty hall and the way the light streamed in, taking with it bits of colour from the stained glass windows. For a long time, neither of them said anything but neither were they uncomfortable with the silence between them. It took a while but eventually, for the first time since the morning, since all the wedding madness and the shock of seeing Molly, Sherlock could feel his chest start to ease a little as he relaxed. “Are you okay?” Molly asked gently, after she saw him take an actual, normal breath in. “Yes,” he said, exhaling slowly after. “Yes, I am.” He turned to Molly and studied her carefully, trying to ascertain that his eyes truly had not deceived him. “Are you back?” he asked, unknowingly furrowing his brows. Molly chuckled at his question and reached to take his hand. Her heart quite nearly melted when she felt his fingers weave themselves just as eagerly between her own. “This feels lovely,” she remarked quietly, looking down at their hands. Perhaps it was the strain from the morning’s anxiety, or the overwhelming emotions that flooded the detective’s now-functioning heart, but Sherlock simply had no capacity to contain himself anymore. In one swift movement, his free arm reached for Molly, pulling her towards him whilst his other hand remained firmly held in hers. As a dam of relief burst inside Molly, she let him hold her and rested her forehead against his chest. The sound of his heart was deafening, but with hers pounding equally hard, Molly could not be sure whose heart it was she was hearing. “Are you back?” Sherlock asked again, his voice even softer now. “Well, I’m here, aren’t I?” Molly replied, smiling against the fabric of his jacket. “For how long?” he asked, not sure if he wanted to hear the answer. “Well, I’ve been given a position at Bart’s…I don’t have a ticket back to Tokyo…” she began. Sherlock blinked at her words and pulled himself away so as to face her. He raised an eyebrow when he saw the corners of her lips lift to smile almost playfully at him. Molly’s eyes shone like he had never seen before and for a brief moment, they stole away the impact of her words. “You’re back…for good?” he remarked warily as her words slowly sunk in. “For good.” she said, nodding at him. “But why?” he asked, staring at her curiously. “Why?” Molly asked back with a laugh. “Everything was going well for you there…you and Scott were fine, your work was making excellent progress, Ayumi was there…” “But it’s better here,” Molly interrupted gently, reaching to take both his hands in hers. “It’s just…better here, Sherlock.” He stared at her as though she had spoken in some unknown language. There was no reason for her to remove herself from all that she had so wonderfully established in Tokyo. It did not make sense that anything could be better, and certainly not here. “Was it my brother?” he said, eyeing her again. “Did he actually succeed this time?” “No, it wasn’t Mycroft,” chuckled Molly, “He’d be pleased you thought so highly of him though.” “Did something happen? Did you get hurt?” he asked, his eyes widening a little in fear. “No, Sherlock…” Molly replied, trying to calm him down. “Then what is it?” he asked, trying to focus on enjoying the feeling of his hands in hers instead of panicking. Molly dropped her head to look down at their intertwined hands, a sight she had thought she would never see again. She smiled, then returned to look up at Sherlock, biting down the amusement from seeing the perplexed look on his face. “I love you, Sherlock, we’ve established that, haven’t we?” she said, matter-of-factly. “We have.” It was Sherlock’s turn to bite down a smile. “And that’s why it’s better here,” said Molly, looking right at him. “Is it?” he remarked quietly. “Yes, Sherlock, yes it is,” Molly replied. “But it is better without me. That was established for us, was it not?” he said, fighting his rising emotion with the trustworthiness of logic. “No, I’ve decided it isn’t,” Molly said firmly. “Sherlock…” “Yes?” “It is better here, because you’re here,” she said, reaching to touch his cheekbone, “We’ve established that too, I believe.” They took a moment to stare at each other; Sherlock, processing all that she had said, and Molly, waiting for him to respond. Suddenly, he leaned towards her, took her face in his hands and kissed her gently on the lips. Molly smiled against his lips, grateful for this familiar sensation that she had missed which now washed over her. “You sure about this?” he whispered, his forehead touching hers. “I did leave you my earring,” Molly joked, “One simply cannot go around with merely one ruby earring…” Sherlock laughed. A proper, relaxed laugh. He felt all remaining tension in his ribcage finally ebb away as all the fog in his head began to clear. Molly was here, and it seemed, no matter how illogical it appeared to him, she was here to be with him. “If it’s the earring you’re looking for,” he said, giving her one more kiss, “You’ll have to come to Baker Street.” “Mind if we stayed for a few days?” Molly asked, shifting to lean against Sherlock as he draped an arm around her. “I thought you’d never ask,” Sherlock replied, turning to kiss her once more. Suddenly, Sherlock stood up with a start, startling Molly who also rose from her seat and looked around them. “What’s the matter?” Molly remarked, scanning their surroundings. “Where’s Scott?” Sherlock asked, worried. There came a chuckle as Molly moved to hug the bewildered detective. Sherlock could not help but smile as his arms naturally wrapped themselves around her, feeling instantly calm from her embrace. “You don’t have to worry,” said Molly, “Scott’s in the safest place I know.” — The room was peaceful and quiet, save for the faint sounds of stealthy footsteps that circled the room they were in. Mycroft sat at his makeshift desk and looked out of the window. From there, he could make out the church in the near distance, and just below, he could see the adjacent building, the large reception hall where the Watson’s wedding luncheon was to be held. “I hope it’s going well, don’t you?” said Mycroft. There came no response, other than a sweet smile and the slight clatter of a toddler’s building blocks. Scott Hooper, having grown accustomed to the soothing voice of Mycroft Holmes, looked up at the man who sat beside his play mat and offered him a red block that looked like it was meant to be part of the construction of a fire engine. “Well, thank you very much, Scott Hooper,” Mycroft remarked, gently taking the object from the bright-eyed one-year old who was currently in his charge. The baby giggled softly, happy to hear Mycroft’s voice. Unable to resist, Mycroft reached down to pick the little one up and went to stand by the tall window that he had been spying from. “Your mother’s somewhere in there,” explained Mycroft to the baby in his arms. “And hopefully, if all goes well,” he paused to smile at Scott whose attention was caught by some birds settling by the window, “you, Scott Hooper, are going to become my nephew.” — The day had taken a dizzying turn. His best friend was no longer a bachelor, now married to a remarkable woman, and Sherlock had successfully managed to deliver his speech without insult or causing lasting damage to anything or anyone. There had been tears in the eyes of his audience halfway through, causing Sherlock’s alarm bells to go off slightly before he realised those tears were in fact, normal and acceptable. John’s hug in the middle of his speech had been awkward, but oddly comforting as well. The day was turning out all right. The Watsons had managed to change the seating plan at the last minute without Sherlock finding out and had given Molly a place beside Sherlock at the wedding couple’s table. When his speech was done and he had given the final toast, it was Molly’s reassuring smile and firm squeeze of his hand that convinced him that yes, the day was indeed turning out to be all right. “That was wonderfully done, Sherlock,” she whispered to him. “I’m just glad it’s over,” he said with a long exhale, “And doubly glad you’re here.” “As am I,” Molly replied, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek. The Watsons caught Molly’s kiss to Sherlock and both raised their glasses to her, igniting a laugh from Molly and a blush on Sherlock’s face. People being happy for him was something he definitely needed to get used to. Ignoring the continued and embarrassing stares from John and Mary, Sherlock turned to face Molly. His face was so suddenly serious that it shocked her. “Molly…” be began. “Yes, Sherlock?” “We have a few hours to rest before the banquet tonight…” he said. “Yes, we do. Thank God for that, I’m quite exhausted actually,” said Molly with a chuckle. “Could you take me to see Scott? Please?” he asked. Sherlock’s eyes were so earnest that Molly could not help but lean in to kiss him gently on the lips. “You don’t have to ask to see your own little boy, Sherlock,” said Molly, taking his hand in hers. Those earnest eyes from before now lit up in delight at her words. With their hands held, the pair stood up and quietly snuck away to where Molly knew was currently the safest place in the world. — There was the faint hum of dance music coming from the banquet hall where the ‘night do’ continued to rage on. Earlier in the evening, Sherlock had finished his violin performance dedicated to the couple and made one final best man’s speech. Scott, who was now together with his mother at the banquet hall, watched Sherlock’s performance after which he had inadvertently robbed his mother of her first dance with Sherlock, much to her amusement. Once the music had come on, Sherlock leapt off stage and swept Scott up in his arms, spinning around the room with the chuckling baby held close to his chest. Scott had stared, mesmerised at the swirling dance lights on the ceiling whilst Sherlock stared, mesmerised at the beautiful boy he was holding. At the second song, Molly had joined in and their reunited family unit of three managed to successfully dance to the full duration of a rather upbeat disco song. By the time they were finished, Molly and Sherlock were breathless but beaming as Scott continued to chuckle and coo, amazed at all the coloured lights spinning around them. When the beats of the third song began, they said their early farewells and goodnights to the couple and retired to Molly’s suite. Now, that same faint hum of music barely had any effect on the two sleeping figures of Sherlock Holmes and Scott Hooper. The boys had turned out far more exhausted than Molly was. It was close to midnight and Molly, having finally managed to have her bath, was now comfortably in her pyjamas, trying to towel her hair dry so she too could get to bed. Once her hair was decently dry enough for her to get some sleep, Molly took one more peek in her son’s cot to check that he was all right before finally heading to her side of the bed. Sherlock barely stirred for he had fallen into a well-deserved deep slumber. He had had a long day, and Molly was glad he could rest. Suddenly, there came a buzz from her bedside table as her phone vibrated with an incoming message. Sorry for contacting you so late. I just wanted to know how things went, And if everyone’s all right. — MH Molly smiled as she began typing her reply to the man who not only knew all of England’s secrets, but who also knew both Sherlock and her better than they knew themselves. We’re headed to Baker Street first thing tomorrow. — M Splendid. I hope you like the nursery. — MH Nursery? — M Yes. I had one built in the very likely event you and Scott were moving in. — MH Ayumi was right about you! — M I cannot attest to that, but I do know that I was right about you. And about my brother. — MH Indeed you were, Mycroft. — M No more of this separating business, I hope? You’ve both realised by now how terribly essential you are to each other. — MH No more, Mycroft. I told you, and I’ve told Sherlock… It’s better here. — M I’m glad of that. I hope the nursery is to your taste. — MH I’m sure it’s perfect. Thank you, Mycroft. For everything. — M — It was a late Saturday morning and Mycroft was sat in the back of his car on a quiet drive to Baker Street. He seemed calm as he always was, although he had a few worries running through his mind. There had been some updates previously that had worried him and, in his bid to contain things, he had asked for extra security among all of London’s prisons and sanatoriums. Even in his special high-security holding areas, Mycroft had warned his people to keep extra vigilant. The premonitions he had had then about trouble brewing had seemed to come back to haunt him of late. The most recent updates sent by his team had done nothing to allay his fears either. Still, Mycroft was taking advantage of this peaceful morning to forget about these troubles for a little while. It was not often he put work aside. There was nothing worth putting work aside for. This visit, however, was an exception. As Baker Street soon came into view, Mycroft could not help but smile a little to himself. He had been looking forward to today for a very long time. He looked over to his right and glanced at a wrapped present that sat on the passenger seat beside him. Closing his dossiers, Mycroft put them down and picked the present up, ready for his visit. As he made his way up the stairs, it pleased him to hear the sound of light, scampering footsteps. He recognised those footsteps and unknowingly hastened his own. The door to his brother’s flat was open, as usual, so he walked right in. “Mycroft,” came Molly’s voice. She was seated on the sofa with a mug of tea in her hand, watching Scott potter about their sitting room playing with his toys. “Molly,” he said, greeting her with a nod. Suddenly, a small ball of force hurled itself towards Mycroft and he could feel tiny but strong arms wrap themselves around his knees as his precious nephew, three year old Scott Holmes, rushed over to hug him. “Hello Scott,” said Mycroft gently, kneeling down so the boy could hug him properly. The little arms found their way around Mycroft’s neck as they hugged the most powerful man in England. Mycroft lay his present and umbrella down and returned the embrace, wrapping his arms around the little boy. Molly smiled at the sight and secretly stole a photo of them using her mobile phone. However, it did not escape Mycroft, who promptly looked up sternly at her only to break into a half smile. He was so different when it came to Scott. It was as though all the old rules did not apply anymore and Molly could get away with anything. “I’ve brought you a present, Scott,” Mycroft whispered to his nephew who still clung on to him. It was as though a magic word had been uttered and the boy finally released his grip on his treasured uncle, but not without keeping one hand on his shoulder. While still kneeling on the ground, Mycroft retrieved the present he had put down and handed it to the boy. “What must you say, Scott?” Molly remarked from the sofa, making sure her son remembered his manners. “Thank you, Uncle Mycroft,” the little boy said, staring at the colourfully wrapped gift in his hand. “Why don’t you open it?” Mycroft said, smiling at his nephew. “But is it Christmas, Uncle Mycroft?” “Christmas?” Mycroft asked, perplexed. “This is a present for Christmas, right?” asked the boy. “No, it’s not a Christmas present,” Mycroft said with a gentle laugh, “It’s because you’re a big brother now, and you need a present to celebrate that.” Scott smiled, as did Molly on the sofa from where she watched them. Trust Mycroft, an older brother himself, to know how Scott would feel now that a new Holmes baby had entered their universe. With his uncle’s permission, Scott hurried off to his little play area and opened his present. Mycroft picked his umbrella up and got up to walk over to where Molly was seated. Just then, Sherlock emerged from the corridor, having just come from the nursery. “Oh. You’re here.” Sherlock said to his brother. “Yes. Molly said I could come.” “Yes, she told me. Very good timing, in fact.” Sherlock said matter-of-factly, “So, are you ready?” “I’ll give it a go,” answered Mycroft, setting his umbrella aside. In Sherlock’s arms was the newest addition to their family, only a few months old and freshly bathed and dressed. Striding carefully over to his brother, Sherlock gently lowered the infant down as Mycroft positioned his arms to receive her. She had not gone to sleep yet and very calmly looked up at into her uncle’s eyes, frowning only slightly as she tried to register this new face. “Hello,” Mycroft said to the baby. “Very pleased to meet you.” Molly smiled as she sipped her tea, observing her brother-in-law and baby daughter meet for the first time. This time, it was Sherlock who took his mobile phone out to take a photo, except it was probably more for blackmailing purposes than Molly’s more sentimental reasons for doing so. Again, Mycroft looked up at the offending mobile camera phone pointed at him and rolled his eyes at his smirking younger brother. Still, he did not waste time squabbling and instead, returned his attention to the small life in his hands. “You still haven’t told me her name,” said Mycroft, turning to Molly, “I was hoping to get a similar pillow for her with her initials embroidered on them…” “We wanted to keep it a surprise,” Molly answered, smiling at him. “Why would it be?” asked Mycroft. “Well, we named her after you, sort of…” said Molly, reaching to gently touch her baby’s forehead. “But she’s…” “She wouldn’t be here without you,” Molly interrupted, looking earnestly up at him. “Just as Scott might not have made it safely into this world without Sherlock, I don’t think Michaela would have ever existed if not for everything you’d done for us, Mycroft.” Michaela. Mycroft said the word in his head and slowly pieced the information together in the database that was his mind. The feminine derivative of Michael…Mikey, mother always calls me Mikey. Michael, Michaela. “Michaela Holmes,” said Mycroft, unable to resist a smile as he looked back down at the baby. Her eyelids were slowly getting heavy and she let out a small yawn as she slowly fell asleep in her uncle’s arms. “Now that’s a picture worth taking,” Molly said with a chuckle, looking on in amusement as Mycroft gazed fondly at the sleeping infant in his arms. “I want a picture with Uncle Mycroft too,” said Scott suddenly, running over from his corner to nestle close to his uncle on the sofa. “Of course you can have one,” said Mycroft, once again throwing all personal rules out the window for this little nephew. Scott leaned against his uncle who held his baby sister, and grinned widely for the camera. Sherlock took his mobile phone out and snapped away, amazed at how genuinely calm and pleased his brother looked. Frankly, Sherlock could not remember the last time he had seen Mycroft in a photograph other than for official purposes. The gentle smile on Mycroft’s face was a rare sight indeed and Sherlock was glad to have captured it. Whatever purpose he may have intended to use it for in future, he was glad to see his brother smile like that. “You should try having some of your own,” Sherlock remarked in jest, walking over to take over from his brother. “None of my children are screaming or running away, perhaps you’d be rather good at this.” “You’re talking nonsense and you know it,” remarked Mycroft, getting up from his sofa. “Maybe you should make a trip to Tokyo. Like I did.” Sherlock continued, smirking at him. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Mycroft said dismissively, “Besides, raising you was enough. I’ve had enough fatherhood experience to traumatise me for a lifetime…” Molly laughed quietly to herself as the two brothers began their usual light bickering. However, so much of the tension beneath it seemed to have slowly disappeared. She recalled the first time she had been in this same sitting room with them both and how the air quite nearly choked her from how tense it had become. She was glad to see that after everything they had been through, it was not just Sherlock and herself that had a changed relationship. The brothers too had changed and seemed to have reached a new level of understanding and respect. “Well, I should go. I do have a country to run,” said Mycroft, getting ready to leave. “It was lovely of you to come,” said Molly, getting up as well. “I wouldn’t have missed it for the world,” Mycroft said, smiling earnestly at Molly. “Come back soon for another visit. Scott would be so happy to see you again.” “I most certainly will.” Mycroft replied. After one more hug from his nephew, Mycroft walked out of the Holmes’ family door and down the stairs back to his waiting car. The weights on his mind were scrambling to return to burden him, but Mycroft made them to wait a little longer before letting them in. For the first time in a long time, Mycroft allowed himself to relish the bliss of having the family he had; a brother he could not help but want to love and protect, a remarkable sister-in-law, a precious nephew and now, a niece named after him. Mycroft also recalled his brother’s silly remark about Tokyo and was glad he could now smile at the thought in the privacy of his car. “First, England. Then, we’ll see,” Mycroft said to himself, picking his dossiers up again as he allowed all those pending work matters that had been waiting to re-enter his thoughts. — What are you doing now? — SH Why are you asking me such a question? — MH Clearly you’re not busy. — SH Does it matter? — MH Yes. If you’re not busy, it means you have time. If you have time, I think you should get on with it. — SH Get on with what? — MH God. Were we just as frustrating? Go do something about her. — SH Why have you suddenly become an authority as to what I should do? — MH Because you’ll regret it if you don’t get a move on. Take this reminder as me returning the favour. —  SH What favour? — MH You gave me my last chance with Molly. I don’t want you to miss yours with someone important. — SH I will tell you if someone or something is important to me. — MH You already have. So go. Don’t be an idiot. — SH Don’t be like you, you mean? — MH If that’s what will make you do something, then yes. Don’t be like me. — SH About two weeks had gone by since Sherlock’s exchange with his stubborn older brother. This stubbornness felt like retribution for all the frustration Sherlock had put him through. Having heard nothing from his brother, Sherlock was surprised to come home one evening to see Molly frantically setting up their dining table and putting out wine glasses despite having received a text from her saying that they were all headed to the Watson’s for dinner. “Hello, what’s happening here?” he asked, taking the utensils she was holding and began to help her arrange them on the table. “We’re headed out, so I need to get this ready before we go!” said Molly, rather frantically. “I don’t understand,” Sherlock said, now taking from her a small vase of fresh flowers and placing it in the centre of the dining table as she had intended. “If we’re eating at the Watson’s, why…” His question was interrupted by the sound of their doorbell ringing. Nobody ever rang the doorbell, not anyone they knew anyway. Sherlock was puzzled and turned to look at a rather rushed and frazzled Molly. “Are you not going to get the door?” she asked, wiping her hands on a tea towel. “Why are we expecting guests if we’re going out?” he asked in return. ���No time to explain…” Molly said, already halfway down the stairs. Sherlock followed quickly after and, from the top of the stairs, saw Molly open the door to receive a most unexpected guest. “Ayumi? What are you doing here?” the detective asked, his eyes still wide from shock as the ladies made their way up to the flat. “I’m here to, well…” she began “Have dinner with me,” came the voice of his brother, whom no one had noticed coming up the stairs shortly after Ayumi had arrived. There was an awkward pause as Sherlock scanned the room only to realise now that his entire sitting room had been rearranged for this specific occasion. Molly had pulled out all the stops and shifted all their furniture such that all that stood in the middle of the flat was their beautifully decorated dining table with what was clearly only two sets of cutlery. Several bottles of wine had been left on a side table, also decorated with fresh flowers. “Well, looks like the two of you can take it from here,” Molly said, giving Ayumi a quick hug. “Come on, Sherlock… the kids are already with Mary. We’d better head over quickly.” “Right, uh…” Sherlock was still trying to process the thought that his brother was actually going to sit down and eat a proper meal, and with another human being. “Sherlock, let’s go…” said Molly, yanking her husband by his coat sleeve. When the doors were slammed shut, Ayumi and Mycroft were left standing in the middle of the newly rearranged Baker Street flat. It looked more like a small restaurant than a flat and it amused Ayumi. “Was this your idea or Molly’s?” she asked Mycroft, walking over to take a seat. “The dinner? Mine. The elaborate set-up? Hers. But the whisky?” said Mycroft as he took his seat opposite and placed a familiar looking case on the table, “Ours.” As Mycroft opened the case of their favourite whisky, the one they drank only with each other, Ayumi could not help but smile. How strange that he was doing this. After all their years working together, being together in their unique way, she never expected to be dining with him so ordinarily like this. “We don’t…do this, Mycroft,” she said, leaning across the table, watching him carefully pour them a glass each. “No, we don’t,” he answered simply, handing Ayumi her glass. They each raised their glass, bringing them to the middle as they tapped their glasses with a soft clink. “This really is the best, you know,” Ayumi said, savouring her first sip whisky. “We have good taste,” Mycroft replied, taking a sip from his own. “We do,” Ayumi agreed, with a nod. The pair of them chatted for a little bit, updating each other casually on the places they had travelled to recently and the cases they had closed or had pending. By the end of their first glasses of whisky, Mycroft automatically reached for the bottle to pour them both another when Ayumi stopped him, resting a hand on his. “Mycroft,” she began. “Yes?” he answered. “What’s really going on?” she asked. Mycroft cleared his throat and gently removed his hand from the bottle, which in turn caused Ayumi to release hers. He slightly regretted that but it was too late. “Please don’t tell me you’re dying,” she said, looking hard at him with genuine worry. “No, no, nothing of that sort,” he replied with a furtive smile. “Then what?” “Sherlock,” said Mycroft, unable to put his sentences together properly. “What about Sherlock?” Ayumi continued to ask. “My brother informs me that I might have some..inclinations towards you.” Mycroft paused to take a sharp breath in, “And that it was time I actually did something about them.” Ayumi looked back at Mycroft, startled at a revelation she never saw coming. Was it really Mycroft speaking or a doppelgänger set up as some massive joke? Her mind went blank because she had never prepared for a moment like this. How could she? This was them. They did not do these things. “Oh.” This was all Ayumi could respond with. The two of them stared back at each other, a little lost at this unusual juncture in their interactions. Ayumi was the first to relax a little. Getting up, she shifted her seat to a spot beside him instead of across the table from him. “He calls me your admirer,” Mycroft said, turning to look at Ayumi, “It’s a little inside joke we have.” “Really?” Ayumi said with a wry smile, “You’re not doing secret trades in biological weapons though, are you? Because that’s not very good.” Mycroft looked at her, surprised that she knew the reference, only to then shake his head, laughing quietly. Why would she not know the reference? She was Ayumi. Like him, she too knew everything. “Well, you know me, Ayumi,” said Mycroft, smiling at her, “I’m capable of far worse.” The both of them laughed, fully aware that the power Mycroft wielded in the British government alone meant he truly could have been capable of a lot worse. “Thankfully, you’re a rather good man,” said Ayumi, returning her hand to rest on top of his. “And thankfully, you happen to think so,” he replied. “I know so, Mycroft,” Ayumi remarked, “I’ve always known.” “Well, then I’m very lucky,” he said. “You don’t believe in luck.” Ayumi laughed. “You are an exception.” “That’s rather moving,” teased Ayumi. This time, Ayumi was the one who reached for their bottle of whisky. She unscrewed its cap and poured a second glass for them both. “So, tell me,” she said. “Hmm?” “Is your brother right, calling you that?” Mycroft let out a quiet laugh and set his glass down. Turning to face her, his eyes zoomed in on the necklace he knew she always wore but kept concealed as he began untucking it from where it lay partially hidden by her blouse, revealing the pendant at the end of its chain. The pendant happened to be a ring, a ring that bore the exact same design as the one he always wore on his right hand. “You should know by now, Ayumi,” Mycroft said, holding her ring gently between his thumb and forefinger, “My brother is quite the genius. And he is never wrong.” — The Holmes family had returned late from their dinner at the Watson’s, with both Molly and Sherlock carrying one sleeping child each and, to their surprise, found their flat restored to its original layout. “They really are meant for each other,” Molly whispered, careful not to wake Michaela. “I bet Ayumi did all the furniture shifting,” Sherlock said with a smirk. “But I bet Mycroft wouldn’t have let her. He probably summoned his team or something…” Molly remarked, “I wonder where they’d gone to after dinner.” Sherlock took a quick look round the room, scanning for little clues and signs as to how their dinner possibly went. When he had gathered enough evidence, he looked at Molly with an amused half grin on his face. “I don’t think we should wonder about that,” said Sherlock, inciting a soft chuckle from Molly. Shaking her head at her husband’s remark, Molly headed towards the nursery to put Michaela to bed. Sherlock, with his son sleeping soundly as his head rested against his father’s shoulders, walked over to sit on the sofa instead. With the sitting room all to themselves, Sherlock smiled and tilted his head to quietly observe the little boy sleeping in his arms. He studied the full head of Scott’s chocolate brown hair, the slope of his nose that was distinctly his mother’s and measured the even breaths the boy took while he slept. Unable to resist, he planted a gentle kiss on his son’s hair and rested his cheek against the soft wisps, shutting his eyes as he savoured what he had never imagined he would ever experience. Twenty minutes later, Molly walked out of the nursery to a sight she knew she would never tire of seeing. There, seated on the sofa, was Sherlock, having fallen asleep whilst still tightly clutching onto their son. It confounded her sometimes, how she could never imagine a single moment in Scott’s life without Sherlock being a part of it. From the moment he had been born, Sherlock had been there. In Molly’s heart, there was nobody else who could have been Scott’s father. Sherlock must have felt her eyes on him for his eyelids fluttered opened suddenly and eventually met her gaze. He smiled warmly at her, before carefully manoeuvring himself as he stood up, taking care not to wake the little boy. Together, he and Molly walked to the nursery and put Scott to bed. Sherlock pulled the covers up to his son’s shoulder’s and kissed him softly on his cheek. He then walked over to Michaela’s crib and bent to kiss her too, amazed that this small little life was also his to call his own. “Who would have thought, hey?” said Molly quietly, wrapping one arm around her husband’s waist as the pair of them stood in the middle of their children’s nursery. “I hate to admit it, but if there was anyone, it would have been Mycroft,” Sherlock replied as he too, wrapped his arm around her waist. The couple laughed quietly, not wanting to disturb their sleeping children. Sherlock turned to kiss Molly’s hair as she shut her eyes and leaned in even closer. “Do you remember that one occasion that you had been poisoned?” asked Sherlock, his voice even quieter and suddenly solemn. “I try not to,” answered Molly, “But yes, I do.” “I don’t know what I’d do if that ever happened again,” he whispered, “If I ever had to face losing you, or the children.” “We’ll do our best not to let it happen,” said Molly, looking up at into his anxious eyes. “I wish I could rule it out completely.” “You know that’s not possible, Sherlock.” “I know.” Molly could sense Sherlock’s heart sink in his chest as one of the greatest side effects of sentiment and love began to grip him.   “Sherlock,” Molly began, turning to face him. “Hmm?” he said, still lost in his quiet distress. “Focus on what you have,” she said, “And not on what you might lose.” “ But I’d almost lost you,” he said, “Twice.” Shaking her head in amusement, Molly smiled as she recalled the death that almost claimed her and the man that almost did so too. She smiled because in all those times that Sherlock thought she had been lost to him, he could not have been more wrong. “Oh, Sherlock,” she whispered, smiling as she moved to kiss him, “You’ve always had me. Always.”

--

Epilogue

It was a luxurious country home she lived in, but she knew that every inch of its grandiosity was a prison. Specifically, her prison. Every step she took was monitored, everywhere she turned she knew the eye of a camera followed. No visitors were allowed, but that was never a problem. No visitors ever came, save for her pathetic old man or worse, the insufferable Mycroft Holmes. Evelyn Lancaster sat in one of the many ornate sitting rooms and flipped through a book of poetry aimlessly. She hated reading but one of the few activities she was allowed was that. Eventually, she made it a point to pick a new book as often as she could and challenged herself to see how many pages she could read before wanting to throw the book against the wall. Everything was suffocating and just so boring. “You have a visitor,” said one of the guards to her this morning. “Oh god,” she moaned, dropping the book to the carpeted floor, “Two whole months of bliss and now they return to taunt me. Could you kill him for me?” The guard did not respond for none of the security personnel was allowed to interact with her beyond what their duties stated. She had been informed of her guest and that was all he had been allowed to say. Having no choice but to receive her unwanted guest, Evelyn straightened her blouse and moved to sit on an armchair to await either the blithering idiot she called her father, or the emotionless and utterly unentertaining Mycroft Holmes. To her surprise, however, a smartly dressed young man appeared and her eyes widened in both disbelief and curiosity. “Hello, Ms Lancaster,” said the gentleman, walking boldly into the room. “Oh my,” she exclaimed, rising from her seat as he took her hand and kissed it. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?” “Well, I’ve heard a lot about you, Ms Lancaster.” “And I’ve heard a lot about you, Mr Moriarty.” The gentleman laughed heartily and unbuttoned his jacket before taking a seat. “Please, call me Jim.” he said, smiling charmingly at her. “And you can call me Evelyn,” she said, her eyes sparkling. Somehow, Evelyn had taken an instant liking to James Moriarty. It would not have surprised anyone, really, but it was clear from the very beginning that they were going to hit it off. Besides, it impressed her greatly that a wanted man like him, no, a former wanted man, for he was now deceased, found his way into her palatial prison without a single hitch. “How did you manage to find me? Much less get in here?” she asked, genuinely curious. “It’s only Mycroft Holmes,” James replied nonchalantly, “I know where his loopholes are.” “Incredible,” Evelyn remarked, delighted that something entertaining had waltzed into her premises at last. “But the last I heard, James…” “Jim, please,” he reminded her with another handsome grin. “I’m sorry, Jim…” she apologised with a chuckle, “The last I heard, Jim, was that you were dead.” “You mustn’t trust everything you hear, my dear,” he remarked. “I suppose not,” said Evelyn with a smirk, “Tell me then, what brings you back from the grave?” A slow grin appeared across James’ face as he reached into his jacket for a small white envelope. He placed it neatly on the rather elaborate marble coffee table between them. “I have a proposition to make, Evelyn,” James began. “Oh?” “You’re a businesswoman, I am a businessman…well, of sorts,” he said chuckling darkly. “I can’t help you much in here, you know, Jim…” Evelyn said, raising an eyebrow. “Simple, I’ll just get you out,” he said, shrugging his shoulders as he leaned back, relaxing into his seat. Evelyn eyed him quizzically, amazed at how simply he viewed what seemed an impossible task to her. There was power behind his words, a power she saw only in one other man; Mycroft Holmes, and it fascinated her. Perhaps there was a way out of this prison after all. “What is your proposition then?” she asked, sitting up in interest. Without a word, James simply slid the envelope over to Evelyn, gesturing for her to open it and take a look at its contents. Evelyn obliged, picking it up and lifting its flap to reveal a few photographs inside it. Carefully, she slid the four coloured photographs out and her eyes lit up in great intrigue. “My, my, James Moriarty,” she exclaimed, looking up at him, “What have you got planned?” Evelyn lay the four coloured photographs down, meticulously positioning them like an open fan and took another good look at them. She smirked at the happy faces she saw in them and tapped a perfectly manicured fingernail on one particular smiling face. “I want them destroyed,” he stated simply, grinning at her. “Not the photographs, of course. Them. Well, mainly him, but you know, the others are part of the package now.” “Yes, I can see that,” Evelyn murmured, picking one of the photographs up to study closely. The photograph had been taken at Bart’s Hospital. Molly had just given birth to Michaela and Scott and Sherlock were with her by her hospital bed, looking down and smiling at the new baby. Evelyn ran her thumb across Sherlock’s face, remembering what those cheekbones felt like under her fingertips. “Why me, Jim?” she asked, her eyes not leaving the photograph, “Why would you go through all the trouble of getting me out just for this?” “Oh, it’s no trouble at all, my dear,” James replied casually. Sitting up in his seat, he startled Evelyn by snatching the photo out of her hand, causing her to look up sharply at him. He took a pen out of from another pocket and began scribbling hard on the photograph, eventually poking a hole in the face of Sherlock Holmes. “I’ve been watching you for some time,” he remarked, continuing to slowly work his way through the faces of Molly and the children, “And believe me when I say…” He paused to toss the now defaced photo of Sherlock Holmes and his family at Evelyn and smiled fiendishly at her. “I am a great fan of your work.” 

END

#the admirer by terrified

[thunderbirdcarebear]

New Beginnings - Chapter 3

Chapter 1 / Chapter 2

Chapter 3 - Revelations

The next day, I went to the kitchen for breakfast, after getting dressed. I sat down and Scott wandered over with a massive grin on his face. "I hope you're properly awake. Dad's got something to tell Kyrano and you. It may be hard to take."

He wandered off leaving me with a confused look on my face. I glanced after him and saw him laughing with Virgil. 'They must think I'm an easy joke, I thought, but then, it's not like Scott to play jokes on me. He's teased me, but he's never played jokes on me before.' Then I realised something. 'Virgil! He could have put him up to it.'

My train of thought was interrupted by the arrival of my father, who came up behind my chair. He kissed the top of my head and wished me a good morning. I got up to get some breakfast, but father shooed me away and told me he'd get it.

Mr Tracy then walked in and I suddenly felt nervous. Was Scott telling the truth or having a laugh at my expense?

He tried to get some breakfast as well, but my father intercepted him.

"Look, I know I invited you to come and help out here," he said, amused, "but you don't have to cook us breakfast. I was only going to have toast, not a fry-up!"

"It is my pleasure to serve you in this way, Mr Tracy," father answered.

With a smile on his face, Mr Tracy shrugged. Like me, he knew better than to argue with my father about culinary matters. That was his area.

We all sat at the table while father started cooking breakfast. Looking round, I noticed two empty seats. At first, I thought it must be Gordon and someone helping him, but then I saw him sat at the other end of the table merrily talking to Scott.

I looked about again. Alan and John were missing. I was about to ask where they were, but father appeared and started dishing out sausages, fried bread, beans and mushrooms.

After breakfast, Mr Tracy caught our attention by clearing his throat. Everyone fell silent and looked at him as he rose to his feet. "Kyrano. Tin-Tin. We're glad you could make it. But we didn't call you over just for the reason we gave you. I guess you're wondering where John and Alan are. I'll answer any questions you may have if you would care to join me in the lounge." And with that, he headed off in the mentioned direction.

Scott and Virgil waited behind to help Gordon and I was going to as well, but they gestured for father and me to follow Mr Tracy. I glanced over my shoulder to see Gordon get up slowly.

He was walking without the crutches now, and instead of a bandage covering most of his head, he had a plaster above his left eye. He still had to have someone by his side, though, as he wasn't yet very stable.

I turned back round after looking for a brief moment to face forward. Looking at father, I saw my confusion mirrored in his face. He didn't understand what was happening either.

When we arrived, I noticed something was different. The five pictures that lined one of the walls had changed. Instead of the pictures I was familiar with of the boys in normal clothes and casual poses, there were pictures of them in some sort of blue uniform, stood to attention.

I walked across the room and looked at them, walking up and down to see all five pictures clearly and with no light reflections off the glass.

Each of them had a different coloured sash and belt. John's was lilac, Scott's pale blue, Virgil's yellow, Alan's very pale pink, almost white and Gordon's orange. Near the top of each sash was a small logo. It depicted the initials "IR" in red on a white hand going over the world.

I turned to see if anything else was different in any way, then saw that Scott, Virgil and Gordon still hadn't arrived.

"What do you think of their uniforms? My mother designed them, but she can't be here yet. We'll be collecting her from Parola Sands later in the year," Mr Tracy stated.

I looked at him dazed. "Why do they need uniforms? Where have they all gone?" I asked.

Mr Tracy smiled. "They're about. They've just gone to get changed. Now then. What time is it?" he glanced at his watch. "Good. He should be back soon."

I heard a faint rumbling sound, which, as I listened, grew louder and closer. I started to feel very nervous. "What's that noise?" I asked. I recognised it. It was that noise that had frightened me that night. 'I thought I was dreaming.' "What is it?" I asked again, as Mr Tracy walked towards me.

"Don't worry. It's nothing to be afraid of," he assured me, taking my hands in his.

I calmed down a little hearing the kindness in his voice and the warm touch of his hands.

When the loud noise stopped, he turned to us and said, "Shut your eyes." I closed my eyes and instantly began to hear movement.

I heard booted feet hitting the hard, polished floor, a mechanical sound I didn't recognise and laughing that I knew was the boys trying to keep quiet and failing miserably.

"What's that, that whirring sound?" I asked my eyes still tightly shut.

"All will be explained in a minute," Mr Tracy answered. "Open your eyes."

I opened them and saw Scott, Virgil, Alan and Gordon lined up wearing the uniform they had on in the pictures.

I was stunned at how smart they looked with their hands beside them and feet together.

"They've been practicing this," I whispered to father, who smiled and looked around again.

I looked them over from head to foot. They each had a blue cap with a coloured trimming around the top matching their sash. There was also a black oval on one side of it with the initials "IR" in white.

They all had blue sweaters over which they had their various coloured sashes. Their sashes were attached to a belt of the same colour with a gun holstered at their right hip and two small canisters at their left.

They all had blue trousers, which matched their tops and blue boots of a similar colour, which came up to just below their knees. Their boots had a strip around the top, which matched their sashes.

I couldn't believe how smart they looked.

As I was looking at them, I caught Alan's eyes. He smiled at me, then snapped back to attention as his father turned round. I laughed at him and he smiled again, his eyes sparkling with excitement.

"This is International Rescue's base of operations or headquarters, call it what you like." He turned to father. "Do you remember any discussions we had about what I planned to do in the future?"

"Yes, you said you wanted to do your part for the world. May I assume that this is it?" Mr Tracy nodded. "I congratulate you, Mr Tracy. What I have seen so far is very impressive. I knew you would succeed."

"You haven't seen anything yet," he said, smiling, then saw the confused look on my face as I glanced from him to father. "I'm guessing you didn't tell her."

"No, Mr Tracy. You swore me to secrecy and a secret it would stay. Tin-Tin, I am sure, will understand." I looked back at my father even more confused than before.

"Thank you. I knew I could trust you," he turned to look at me. "Don't take it personally, Tin-Tin. I had to know if I could trust your father and he has proven himself by not telling you. The question is can I trust you?"

"Of course, you can, Mr Tracy," I replied quickly, slightly annoyed at the fact that he was testing my loyalty after he knew I could be trusted.

He suddenly laughed. "OK. I'll let you in on my secret. About a year and a half ago, I read an article about the air crash in which about eighty people died. Do you remember it?"

I thought for a moment. "Yes, vaguely. There could have been fewer deaths if they'd had sufficient rescue equipment."

"Exactly. That was why I decided to form this organisation."

"I don't understand how five men in smart uniforms can accomplish anything like that," I paused. I'd been looking at the row of pictures as I said this, but then after looking at the row the boys had formed, I realised someone was still missing. "Where is John, anyway?" Mr Tracy smiled again and pointed at the ceiling. I looked up despite knowing that the villa was a bungalow and he wasn't likely to be on the roof. "Up where?" I asked, bringing my eyes away from the ceiling to meet his.

"Up in space. In geostationary orbit around Earth in a satellite that we call Thunderbird 5."

That word. Gordon had mentioned it but I still didn't understand. "Thunder-what?"

"Thunderbird 5. One of our five main craft. It is a special satellite which can detect calls of distress in any language."

'A machine. So it's not an actual bird. A thunderbird is a machine.' I was still stunned. "So, John's in space?" Mr Tracy nodded. "But, how did he get there?"

He smiled and gestured for Alan to step forward. "By means of Thunderbird 3, our spacecraft, piloted by Alan, and whenever he's needed, Scott will co-pilot, for example when we need to bring John back."

"What?" I felt very confused by this sudden burst of information.

"Well, we can't leave John up there forever, he'd go mad. He and Alan have, um, "volunteered" to take turns on Thunderbird 5," he said, glancing at Alan, who promptly looked at the floor. I guessed he and John pulled the short straws. "At the end of each month, Thunderbird 3 will be launched by Scott and he'll take John or Alan, whoever's here, up to the satellite to relieve the other."

It was a lot to take in and I was becoming more and more confused. "So, you've got a space ship and a satellite. How are they going to save lives?"

He smiled again and gestured to the others. "That's where Scott, Virgil and Gordon come in." He nodded at Scott who walked over to a panel in the wall.

He turned to face us and raised his hands to take hold of lighting fixtures on either side of his head. He cast a brief glance at the portrait of John, which was just above his head, then looked around at us.

Mr Tracy walked over to his desk and pressed a button. There was a mechanical noise and almost immediately Scott disappeared. The panel had spun round, revealing an identical reverse.

"OK. I want you to do the same, Tin-Tin."

I looked at Mr Tracy, feeling slightly reluctant, but upon receiving a reassuring smile from him, I stepped up to the panel and raised my arms. The fixtures I was supposed to have been holding were slightly out of my reach, meaning I had to tiptoe slightly. I guessed it was designed for Scott to use as he has longer arms and is taller.

Mr Tracy pressed the button once more and I spun round without moving. When I finally stopped moving – which although only lasted for a moment, felt much longer – I looked around and was amazed at what I saw.

"This is Thunderbird 1," Scott announced proudly from where he was stood beside me, indicating the large grey machine directly in front of me. I looked down, attempting to see where it started.

"It is 115 feet long and has a wingspan of 80 feet."

"Wings? What wings?" I scanned the spearhead shaped craft from top to bottom and could see no wings.

Scott pointed at two arm-like features on either side. "Obviously they aren't at their full length." I looked back at him. "They will be extended as I reach my destination, unless my destination's here. I come in vertically and if the wings are extended, I won't be able to get back in."

I nodded and looked back at it as Scott continued. "Its purpose is to reach the danger zone in the quickest possible time, so it..."

"I'm sorry, what's a danger zone?" I asked, completely astounded at what I saw, but very confused at what I heard.

"Hmm? Oh, sorry. Danger zone is our term for the area we have been called to where our assistance and equipment are required."

"Oh."

"Anyway," he continued, smiling, "it has to reach the danger zone in the quickest possible time, so it can travel at speeds of up to 15,000 miles per hour."

"15,000?" My eyes went wide, betraying just how stunned I was at how fast the silver craft could go. I looked at it again, taking in all its detail. It had a red nose cone, a blue strip round the bottom, near the engines, but most of it was a silvery-grey colour.

Down the front, it had THUNDERBIRD 1 written in bold letters and on the side and engines, it had TB1.

"It's fantastic," I whispered, barely able to speak, "but how does it get out of here?"

Scott pointed to the floor and I glanced down. It was just a normal floor I was stood on. "Where?"

"Under this platform."

Feeling a bit strange, I knelt down and looked under the platform where I saw a dark tunnel. "I suppose that means you go down there."

He nodded and his face cracked into a smile. "Thunderbird is on a trolley and once I'm ready, I send the craft on its trolley down the metal track that runs down the middle of that tunnel. It's launched from under the pool, which slides back as Thunderbird is descending the ramp."

"Wow, you mean the entire pool moves? Water and all?"

He nodded again. "You haven't seen anything yet. Dad's got loads of tricks up his sleeve to reveal." He took my arm and led me out of the hangar.

Back in the lounge, all eyes were on me. "What did you think of the first stop?" Mr Tracy got up from his seat at his desk.

"It's... astonishing. I can't think of any words to describe it. They wouldn't do it justice."

"If you liked that you'll love this next lot," he said, then turned to father. "Kyrano, I'll show you Thunderbird 1 myself later, if that's alright? But where you knew more about this than Tin-Tin, it seems only fair to show her the rest now." Father nodded in reply, then Mr Tracy smiled at me, then left the lounge. I followed them, unaware that in just a few moments, I would be shown the most advanced technology in the world.

Mr Tracy led us to a small car on a single track. It was like a monorail train; only the car was on top of the track, not hanging underneath it.

We got in and sat down next to the windows. I was still in shock over what I had seen. I didn't think anything could beat it. Mr Tracy took the controls and the boys stood around us, trying not to block our view. I sat up the front near Alan and next to Mr Tracy and looked out the windows as the engines were started. I saw a dark tunnel ahead of us. No lights had been mounted on its walls and the car had no headlights. We passed through it and I took Alan's hand in the darkness.

At the other end of the tunnel, the car was stopped and the door was opened. I looked out to see we were on the floor of a large hangar with a number of large green things lining the wall next us.

"These are the pods that will eventually house auxiliary rescue equipment waiting to be transported to the danger zone," Mr Tracy announced. "There are six in total, and each is numbered to aid the pilot of Thunderbird 2 when he has to choose which he needs."

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Virgil trying hard not to smile. 'He must be the pilot of this Thunderbird 2,' I thought.

"It's time to see the smallest of our main vehicles."

"We have equipment for rescues on four planes: air, sea, land and space," Mr Tracy continued, leading us out of the car. Thunderbird 1 is an air vessel, its main job being to get to the danger zone quickly so Scott can assess the situation. Thunderbird 3 is used in space for rescues and to transfer personnel. Thunderbird 2 is another air vessel, which can be used for air rescues due to the astrodome, but its main purpose is to transport the heavy rescue gear, and Thunderbird 4, to and from danger zones." He turned to face Gordon who nodded. He limped forward carefully and led the way.

He moved slowly, talking as he went. "Thunderbird 4 is only a scout craft and it's only 30 feet long, but it's one of the fastest craft on or under the sea. It rivals even the capabilities of the craft operated by WASP. Trust me, I know."

When we reached Pod 4 and stopped. Gordon started to seem unsure of what to do next. He glanced at his father and sent him a questioning look. Mr Tracy nodded and started saying something to his... watch?

I looked at him, confused, but then, after a loud noise, the door to pod door started to lower.

It reached the floor with a loud bang, which made me jump, then with Scott helping him up the ramp, Gordon led us in.

I looked about, but in the darkness, I could only make out a sort of yellow shape. "Could do with some light in here, Brains," Mr Tracy said.

I spun round thinking Brains had joined us, but he wasn't there. I saw Mr Tracy stood in the doorway silhouetted by the bright light outside. He was lowering his arm. I was about to ask him about it when the lights came on. I blinked until my eyes adapted, then looked around.

In the middle of the pod was a metal track at the end of which, at the very back, was Thunderbird.

It was bright yellow with THUNDERBIRD 4 written across the side and a 4 printed on either side of its dorsal fin. It had a red stripe around its midsection and one around its nose, quite close to the arms that held a light trough out in front of it.

"Thunderbird 4," Mr Tracy announced, spreading his arms, "our little yellow submarine. It is transported to and from danger zones in this pod by Thunderbird 2. The pod is then released over water and Thunderbird 4 is free to take on the mission. Gordon will pilot it when he's fully recovered." He glanced at Gordon and smiled. "No doubt he will be by the time we get our first assignment, as he's nearly fully recovered now." He gently rested his hands on Gordon's shoulders. "OK, time to move on. We're going to visit Thunderbird 2 now," Mr Tracy said. "When the car stops, an elevator will stop next to us, which Brains will be controlling. It is the elevator extra crew members or passengers will use as Virgil," he glanced briefly at his son, who grinned, before continuing, "has his own entrance. OK," he said, turning round totally to look Virgil in the eyes. "Your turn."

Slowly, Virgil grinned again. "I thought you said I was supposed to tell my little story when we got there."

Mr Tracy chuckled; shaking his head, then started the engines. We didn't go far forward, but we went up and doubled back on ourselves. I looked through the windows to see a huge green monster. I knew it wasn't, though, because right near the front, just behind some windows, which I assumed must be the cockpit, was a large white 2.

"This is Thunderbird 2, which will piloted by Virgil," Mr Tracy said, as Virgil stepped forward and let his father wrap an arm round his shoulders. The car stopped and the elevator arrived. "Carry on, Virgil," Mr Tracy said, releasing him.

"Would you all please, in pairs, use the elevator to get to Thunderbird's cockpit," he announced.

When we all reached the cockpit, Virgil started walking round and naming various pieces of equipment and their functions. He then went on to start describing his craft.

"Thunderbird 2 is 250 feet long, has a wingspan of 180 feet and stands 60 feet tall, when the telescopic legs are at full length. It has a top speed of 5,000 miles per hour, but cruising speed is only 2,000 mph. Its main function is to get specialised equipment to and from the danger zone, like Thunderbird 4, which you have already seen," he said, a wide smile started to work its way across his face. "Now we should see her from the outside."

We went back to the car via the elevator, then we wound back down to where we had just left. Virgil led us past the pods, which at the time were all empty except for Pod 4. "There will be various different pieces of equipment in these pods, all specialised to the sort of rescue operation we might encounter. We will be seeing them in a few minutes," he stated with practiced ease.

We followed him past the six pods and came out under the huge green craft. "Thunderbird 2 is launched from behind this panel. At this very moment, we are behind the cliff facing the runway. The cliff face will slide down into a trench, then this inner door will lower over the gap to give me a smooth ride to the launch site. The palm trees lining the runway are there to hide the true size of the runway. Had we made it the right size for Thunderbird to get down, it would've been noticeable, so the palm trees drop back to allow me passage. I finish my journey on a section of the runway which has been converted into a take off ramp. To try to cut back on marks left by the jets, a smaller section raises behind them to collect the brunt of the jets' force."

I looked at the massive machine. It had a large white 2 printed on the underside of its nose, one printed on the side of the tail plane mounts and THUNDERBIRD 2 written boldly down either side of its nose.

It really was huge. As I looked up on an attempt to see the top, I noticed Virgil move up a few paces until he was right behind me. I leaned further back, taking a couple of steps backward toward him when I stumbled.

Virgil moved swiftly and caught me. 'So that's why he moved. He knew I'd trip.'

We headed back past the empty pods and through to a large hall. There were six sections each separated by a wall with a number on.

"These are the pod vehicles," Mr Tracy said, stopping in front of the first vehicle. "Each one has a different, but important function." He indicated a yellow vehicle with a very large silver drill as its nose.

"The Mole is used for tunnelling; making it ideal for retrieving buried people. The Firefly" he indicated a machine with a shovel-like plate, "will be used to put out fires by firing special nitro-glycerine shells at a blaze and also clearing heavy debris."

He then pointed to a strange looking car with a platform on its roof. I noticed there were three more that were identical. "The High-Speed Elevator Cars will be used if a plane has to make a landing without its landing gear. The platform-roof allows the plane to land on top of strategically placed cars. The master car needs only one driver and he will be in control of the radio subsidiaries. The Recovery Vehicles," he said, patting a machine with twin cannons, "have powerful magnets capable of righting upturned heavy vehicles. There is a master and a radio subsidiary of these as well. The Transmitter Truck," he pointed to a car with a large dish on the top, "is capable of projecting a radio beam more than 90 million miles into space."

He walked further down the line of machinery and stopped at a small vehicle with a front-mounted dish. "The Neutraliser Tractor has a sonic dish capable of neutralising other sonic wave-producing equipment. The Jet Air Transporter has a powerful jet engine, which emits a cushion of air, which can support anything up to 170 pounds." I looked at the unusual looking vehicle, as Mr Tracy walked up to the next, a small vehicle with a strange shovel on the front.

"The Excavator is a drilling and crushing machine capable of breaking rock and other debris into pebbles and dust, ideal to clear paths. The Monobrake," he indicated a machine with a long arm mounted on the back, "was designed as a search and recovery vehicle to be used in conjunction with monorail lines. The arm can be attached to the line to give it greater speed. The Booster Mortar-" he pointed to a vehicle with a large cannon, "-has a powerful cannon capable of firing auxiliary rescue equipment in capsules into danger zones too hazardous for my boys to enter." As he said this, I glanced about at the boys and they started shuffling about, looking at their boots and blushing.

He went on to another vehicle, which looked nearly identical to the last, except the cannon was slimmer. "The Laser Beam Equipment has a powerful laser cannon and blast air jets for removing obstructions once the laser has cut them free. The Domo is a restraining vehicle. It has powerful suction pads on the end of the long arms capable of holding walls in place during demolition work."

I looked at the vehicle with three jointed arms held high above it, then at the last vehicle. It had a large platform on an arm. "Finally, the Mobile Crane is a truck capable of raising the maintenance platform up to about 50 feet."

I looked back down the long line of neatly arranged vehicles. "That's a lot of equipment."

"There's more," Mr Tracy replied, simply. He led us back to the car and we continued our tour deep below the villa. We entered a large hangar bay and I was instantly shocked.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Mr Tracy gesture to Alan who stepped forward. Mr Tracy stopped the car and turned to me. "I seem to remember you asking me about a rumbling noise." I nodded and shuddered at the memory. "Have you heard it before?" he continued, his voice calming.

I thought for a moment until the memory returned. "Yes, very early this morning. It frightened me."

"Well, there's no reason to be frightened of it, because it was just this," he said, gesturing to the huge orange ship.

'No wonder I woke up. This thing could wake up someone on the other side of the planet.'

Mr Tracy smiled and glanced at Alan again. "Ready?"

He nodded. "This is Thunderbird 3," he said, unable to remove the grin from his face. "It stands 287 feet high and can go, at minimum, 25,200 miles per hour. We'll use it for personnel transfer, like we did this morning. The rumbling you heard was me taking off and returning from taking John to the space station. We'll also use it for space rescues should any occur. It is launched from here. Above us is the round house and Thunderbird lifts off from the space inside the circular building."

I looked at the huge craft through the window. It was bright orange with black trimmings down the three arms attached to the engines. It had THUNDERBIRD 3 written vertically down its side in white lettering and around the base, it had white 3s printed on and on the engine casing were black 3s. It was a very impressive sight.

Mr Tracy looked at us. "It's getting close to 7 o' clock, dinner time, so you have two options: eat or see more."

I looked around at them, back at Thunderbird, then back at Mr Tracy. "I want to see where you can take this."

"Right. Thunderbirds are go!"

We were back in the lounge.

I looked around, but nothing happened.

"What exactly are we going to see?" I asked.

"Well, you've already seen Scott's entrance, time to see the rest." Mr Tracy glanced at Virgil, who nodded and stepped toward me. He took my hand and led me to a tall poster on the wall near the desk and next to Scott's entrance.

I looked at it. It was a picture of a rocket taking off, but not Thunderbird 3. This looked like one of the ones used by the Space Agency. As I looked at it, I heard Virgil mumble something to his father, then stepped away.

"Turn around," Mr Tracy said, as Virgil crossed to the other side of the room, "and stand with your back right up against the picture." He paused and as an afterthought added "Don't be frightened."

I tried my best not to, but as soon as he'd said that, I began to feel nervous. He pressed another button on his desk and I was tipped up. In fact I was tipped up so far, I slid off it head first. I was worried until my head hit something soft and I stopped moving, though I didn't stop moving altogether. I'd come to rest on a sled, which was now sliding down a long ramp way.

The sled I was on came to a stop and revolved round so I was sliding down feet first. I glanced about, but all I could see was the metal walls of the chute.

Suddenly, below me, I could see a cockpit and a section of the ramp that was different to the rest. I slid off the sled and then onto the separate section, which collapsed, becoming a chair.

I looked around the dark cockpit but the only thing I could see clearly was Virgil's yellow sash.

"Flip that white handled lever to your left." He took a few steps closer as I did. All the lights came on as a result and a steering wheel moved forward toward me. Then I heard a mechanical sound and a platform rose next to me, on my right. It was empty and served no obvious purpose. I looked at Virgil, confused.

"That's where this'll live until I come in to put it on." He indicated his uniform by tugging on his sash.

"How did you get down here?"

He pointed behind him and I remembered the elevator. He grinned.

I was back in the lounge. I looked around; they were waiting for me to say something.

"That was amazing."

"Glad you enjoyed it," Mr Tracy said, "Time to go into Thunderbird 3. Kyrano, you can go, too this time. There's room for about three or four people on Alan's entrance."

I looked at Alan who indicated a settee directly in front of the desk. I sat down with father on my left and Alan on my right. Another button was pressed and we started to descend into the dark hangar below.

I looked about and could see a long tunnel. "This is..."

"Amazing?" Alan finished for me. I laughed and took his hand as we continued our journey deep into the steep rocky hills of Tracy Island. We reached the hangar and I saw Thunderbird 3 from below. I was glad I was sat down because if I'd stumbled just trying to see the top of Thunderbird 2, who knows what I would've done trying to see the top of this craft? It seemed to go up forever.

The settee stopped directly below the centre section and we started to rise toward a hole in the hull. It continued up until we reached the lounge inside the craft. A loud clunk signalling that the settee was locked in place.

I looked at Alan who smiled and squeezed my hand. "It's late; we'd better get back to the lounge. Say, Grandma's gonna be mad; we haven't eaten all day!"

I laughed then the settee started moving again, taking us back to the lounge.

It was eleven at night. The villa was quiet. I was stood on the balcony looking at the reflection of the full moon dance on the surface of the ocean. I enjoyed standing there, unless it was raining.

We'd all finally sat down to dinner at about half eight, much to Grandma's relief, and after talking for two hours about the day's activities, they all turned in for the night.

I, on the other hand, couldn't understand how they could sleep so easily after that day.

I heard a noise behind me and turning round I saw Alan approach.

He came and stood next to me, putting an arm round my waist. "What did you think?"

"I'm impressed. How long have you been doing this?"

"About two years. It's sure been fun. The hardest part was trying to construct Thunderbird 5. We had to do that in space. That meant we had to build Thunderbird 3 first..."

"OK, I get it. Why didn't you tell me?"

"Dad would've gone mad. He's very into security now. He says this organisation has to remain top secret and no one other than us is to know that this is where we're based."

"I'm honoured." I glanced out over the ocean again, taking in the scent of the salty air.

#thunderbirds #fanfic #New Beginnings #chapter 3 #Tin-Tin Kyrano #Tin-Tin Kyrano's POV #thunderbirds fanfic #thunderbirds fanfiction #fanfiction #old story

[cooldistinguishedcollectionfun]

2 Prime Methods To Eliminate Stomach Fat

2 High Methods To Get rid of Belly Fat

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[sci-fiworlds]

The Human Factory - Sci-Fi Worlds Short Story #1

Previously published by Bretwalda Books, The Human Factory is the first  entry in the new Sci-Fi Worlds short story series, which will feature original science fiction stories in the same vein as the Golden Age or “pulp” era of science fiction.

The copyright was recently returned to me, so below is the complete text:

The Human Factory

A Sci-Fi Worlds short story by Richard Thomas

Introduction

According to Greek mythology the Titans Prometheus and Epimetheus were told to distribute characteristics to the newly created animals. Epimetheus started giving a positive trait to every animal, but lacking foresight, he realised that he had distributed all traits without having any left to give to man. So, Prometheus gave mankind the civilizing arts and fire. In the 21st century this task of assigning special traits to humans and animals has finally been completed by genetic designers. Thus, the Epimetheus experiment has moved what was once only ancient myth to today's reality. -- A Brief History of the Post-Human Age (Elizabeth Icke, 2068)

In 2029 the first artificial womb is created by a team of Russian and Chinese scientists. The following year the Greater People's Republic of China successfully 'births' the first dog using extrauterine fetal incubation. It is believed that the new technology will help solve China's massive gender imbalance that has left 29 million Chinese men without any prospect of marriage within that nation. By 2045, natural births are outlawed by all 150 members of the United Earth States. They call this the Epimetheus Project. It is the beginning of a brave new world where gender, sexuality, occupation and even life expectancy are all assigned before conception; a future where no one is born and humans are instead manufactured in factories to meet the needs of supply and demand of the big twelve corporations. At the end of the 21st century childhood has become a thing of the past and is looked down on by social planners and other historical scholars as the cause of many of the social ills that plagued earlier centuries. Instead of growing up, people simply wake up with implanted memories of a fake childhood tailored for the needs of their designated role in society. While crime inside UES has largely been eliminated following the ban on natural births and enforced memory implants for felons, illegal emigration from the 50 nations and Mars colonies still outside the global superstate’s control, make maintaining a police force a continuing necessity. In the Anglo-Zone, police officers all have the same surname, Smith. There are only six types assigned to public duties, three women and three men: Julia, Yvette and Sarah; and Mark, Adam and David. So they are easily recognised by the public each of the same types are identical to each other and all share the same basic memory programming. Deviation from your memory programming is considered rebellion. Rebellion is not tolerated and has serious consequences.

Part One: Happy Birth Day David

“Now I do not know whether I was then a man dreaming I was a butterfly, or whether I am now a butterfly, dreaming I am a man.” -- Zhuangzi, The Butterfly as Companion: Meditations on the First Three Chapters of the Chuang-Tzu

DATE: 4/07/2096 LOCATION: FACTORY 108 ANGLO-ZONE

“Three month incubation period complete... time to wake up!” Squawked the loudspeakers attached to the central computer terminal. Green liquid began to pour over the sides of a bath-like chamber, and a figure started to move inside. Confused and disoriented the figure coughed and looked around to see other chambers, all the same, with other people, some still sleeping others waking up like himself. A mobile computer unit wheeled towards him with a towel to dry himself with and clothes to wear. “Please leave your incubation chamber now. You are David Smith 8338”, the strange bot on wheels told him. David looked in amazement and terror at the intruder and his strange surroundings. “What? Who? Where am I? Who am I?” his first words. The factory machine answered the confused new human being: “You are David Smith 8338. This is Factory 108 owned by the Strix corporation, your employers and creators.” David looked baffled at the black and yellow striped machine, which resembled a motorbike with a laptop in place of the handlebars. With an almost patronising tone, the machine continued to explain things: “You have been designated 35 years’ service as a law enforcement officer and five years retirement before termination. A life partner will be assigned to you after the completion of your four memory implants in eight weeks’ time.” David was speechless. “I can see you're still confused, don't worry”, it unsuccessfully tried to reassure the scared newborn adult. “You will have access to your initial memory implants in just a few moments, and then you will understand everything you need to know.” “Happy birth day”, the machine added, before zooming off to the next chamber where another 'newborn' waking up in the human factory. Putting on his new uniform, David's memory implants began to activate. Although he had never put on a pair of trousers or shirt before, he remembered doing it and had no difficulties changing out of the wet suit attached to wires and cables he had been sleeping in. Dry, changed and his first memory implant fully functioning; he headed for the exit not needing any directions from the computers, throwing his towel and wetsuit in the bin as he left to begin day one of his 14600 day lifespan. A Strix corporation bus was waiting outside to transport the birth day men and women to their living quarters to start their predetermined lives.

Part Two: Welcome Home David

DATE: 18/07/2096

Looking at his reflection in the mirror David studied the stranger's face looking back at him. Not having received all of his memory implants yet there were still massive gaps in the newborn's mind, and he was still getting used to the face in the mirror. About six foot tall with a stocky rugby player physique; David had dark brown hair and hazel eyes which seemed to be turning green as the days passed. His skin was lightly tanned. Two weeks had gone by since David had woken up in the human factory, and the young adult had began to settle into his life and apartment. Not that time to settle was necessary. David's initial memory implants, which had been administered to him during his three month incubation period before his activation, included full knowledge of his dwellings as well as local knowledge he would need. For instance, where the local Strix owned supermarket was, as well as who his neighbours would be. Like David, his new neighbours were also Strix employees and had been programmed with full knowledge of the new David Smith model moving into the building. Older people who had been naturally born and experienced a real childhood, instead of the artificial one David had been given, would find it bizarre that not only did David already know people he had never really met, but also had friendships and even a long running feud with one of them. The genetic designers that had synthesised David's memories believed that as a law enforcement officer, David would need previous experience of human conflict, so an enemy was included in his programming. Despite both David and his 'enemy', a John Davis supermarket model, having full knowledge that neither of them had actually met before and that the misunderstanding between them was entirety fictional; the two still avoided each other and couldn't shake their mutual mistrust and loathing. The strained situation had caused David to avoid the supermarket and shop in a small store owned by an old-fashioned 'birther', someone had been born before 2045 before natural births were made illegal. “What you doing in here?” asked the owner and manager of the store. “No one phoned for the police.” He looked about 60 years old, though the grey haired little man could of been much older, the glasses he wore certainly suggested that. He might as well have been wearing medieval armour; eyeglasses had been obsolete since the Twenties, thought David. Like the store and the goods he sold the old man was an anachronism that didn't fit anymore in a world where machines built people in factories instead of the other way around. The store, which sold everything a 'crazy birther' would need from non-genetically engineered food to old fashioned paperback books, was aside from David and the owner completely empty and felt more like a museum than a shop. “I'm not on duty”, David politely explained. “Actually I've only had two memory implants; I still have seven to go before I'm ready to start policing... I'm not qualified yet, have no memories of police investigations or anything.” “That so”, the scruffy dressed old man replied. “Oh I saw a documentary about it. I was born the old fashioned way. I never had any memory surgery. You guys start life at about 25 don't you?” “Ah...physically yes”, David explained. “It is true we're born with the body of a 25 to 30-year old, but when you first wake up, you only have the lifetime experiences of someone who had been living about ten years. You get the rest later. I'm up to about 18-years lifetime experiences now. Tomorrow I'm getting my next implant that will take me to about 30. Then I'll be ready to get my police training memories and start duty... can't wait.” “Really; and what if you decide you don't want to be in the police?”   David looked in horror at the dissenter. “Ah that would be rebellion... and even if it wasn't everything I am, my design, home, even my wife I haven't met for real yet, everything was paid for by Strix on the understanding I'd be a police officer wasn't it.” Smiling the old man walked towards the store counter. “Let me show you something.” The old man pulled a small painting from underneath the counter. “You see that. Now that is real art. Not that computer drawn rubbish Strix puts up in apartments like yours.” The painting showed a group of desperate looking people clinging onto a raft at sea, as a ship sailed away in the background. In the bottom left corner was the title, 'The Raft of the Medusa'. “I studied art in school, when I was in comprehensive, before they were all closed because there are no children to teach any more. It isn't the original, of course, just a copy. I keep it here with some others just to remind me.” “Remind you of what?” David asked feeling uncomfortable. “Should have gone to the supermarket”, he mumbled to himself. “You haven't really lived, so you can't understand. I'll try to explain... just because the ship is sinking you don't throw people overboard. I keep it here to remind me of that.” David looked at the faces of the men and women in the painting set adrift. As a police officer model, he understood a crime had been committed against the people on board the raft, but what could that have to do with anything? “Okay. I think I get it now”, he lied wishing it was true. “Really; you shouldn't you know?” Puzzled and delighted the old man pointed to the back of the store. “Well we sell this and some other paintings; they're at the back of the store with the arts and craft stuff, if you're interested.” David looked at the old paintings, there were three in total: a tree losing its leaves in the winter time; an elephant forced to do circus tricks; and a child going to one of those schools the old man had told him about. He felt something but couldn't explain what they meant in words. Against his better judgement David picked up some paper, paint and brushes and took them to the counter. “I think I'll make my own instead.” He told the astonished manager.

Part Three: Rebellion

DATE: 5/08/2096

Over a month had gone by since David had woken up and he had completed his last memory implant the day previously. His new wife, who he remembered losing his virginity to in college, even though he had never really met her yet or been to college, was due to arrive later that evening. Although it would be their first real meeting, to David it felt like she was just coming home from work. It would be the same for her. She was another police model, a Sarah Smith: a redhead with greener eyes than David, Sarah was thin and fair skinned with freckles.   David was glad he wouldn't need to visit the memory implant chair any more, like trips to the dentist they could be painful and make you anxious. The procedure involved implanting a syringe through one of the nostrils into the brain. Not a pleasant experience, even though it only took seconds. A mistake could mean a complete memory wipe would be necessary, or worse early termination. Three weeks had passed since he had bought the paint and brushes. Those paintings he had been shown still left David feeling uneasy about something but his mind couldn't verbalise it. He knew it was something to do with his own situation, but couldn't figure out what exactly. It was as if the answer was being blocked from his mind. In an attempt to understand David was using his detective programming. He had decided to create his own paintings in an effort to solve the mystery. David knew that technically what he was doing was rebellion, but reasoned since he was programmed to be an investigator; technically he wasn't going against his programming by painting was he? Hours went by and David began to see. Slowly what had been just an instinctive feeling was becoming a thought he could verbalise and understand. He looked at what he had created: a beautiful gold and black winged insect. It was a butterfly. He had drawn the same image over and over again. But with each new painting, the colours on the creature's wings had gradually faded. What he had drawn was unimportant, though. What was important was that he had created them. He had chosen to create them. No one had any right to tell a creator what their destiny was, even if they had created him in the first place, it was his right to choose his own way. Realising he had now crossed the line into full rebellion; David wondered what he would tell the wife as he heard the door open.

Part Four: Termination Day

Catching her husband in the act of rebellion, Sarah Smith 8889 smiled. “And what do you think you've been doing?” Caught red handed, David started babbling.  “Ah ... Sarah ... ah ... it is like this. All things in nature are cyclic, we need a beginning and an end...and we need to choose for ourselves what we do. It is hard to explain. But try looking at these paintings and you'll get it.” Sarah looked intently at the deviant art. The greenness of her eyes contrasted with the blueness of David's and signalled the completion of her memory surgeries and David's rejection of his own; a safeguard made by Strix, so that the public could see which units were qualified for public duty based on eye colour. But the female police lieutenant was only a matter of hours older than her husband, her programing might still be corrupted, David hoped. It was his only chance. Like him, Sarah was programmed with an instinct to investigate all strange or suspicious behaviour; David tried appealing to that programming: "I know it sounds crazy. But we're supposed to be investigators aren't we, so what is the harm in investigating?" "We're supposed to investigate crimes 8338, not petty curiosities like art, which is a potential gateway to other deviances. You'll be asking me to take an LSD trip with you next", she replied mockingly. David detected the sarcasm in her voice. Perhaps there was a chance after all. Sarah examined her husband's handy work again. "What you have painted is kind of pretty, though. I guess as long as you’re not asking me to run away with you to the Mars colonies or the rogue states." David breathed in relief. "But where did you get the idea to paint and the materials?" "Oh... there is this store near the supermarket, it is for 'birthers', and has lots of old world things that haven't been banned yet. They had some paintings in there. Looking at them, it just made me want to create my own. I didn't understand it right away. But art is a kind of secret language that is hard to censor the way they can with words. It took some time but I understand that language now.” “And what were the paintings there telling you?” Sarah asked looking puzzled at the stranger she thought she would know already when she came in the door. "This is deep." David took a breath before continuing. "But that people need to experience all parts of life; birth and childhood included. And that freedom is important." Sarah's eye began to tint a shade of blue. "I'm impressed." "Are you sure?" David asked, relieved he wasn’t being arrested. "Yes. You got all that by looking at some paintings of people stuck on a raft, an abused tiger, and some other random things. That was very clever of you…" "Wait. But...” David interrupted his wife before she could finish her complement. “…I never told you what the paintings were; did you go to the same store?" “Not exactly. No.” Sarah’s eyes began to turn green again. “Well I'm afraid your end has come before it ever really began David.” “What do you mean?” The rebellious painter nervously asked. “Are you arresting me for rebellion honey?” “No need.” Her eyes were now glowing green. “Strix have simulation tests that accompany memory implantation designed to weed out faulty models before activation that are 100% effective.” She smiled again at her husband and her voice completely changed to the computerised voice he had heard in the human factory on his birth day ... “time to wake up ... though not for long.”

The End

#science fiction #sci-fi #sf #short story #short stories #replicant #replicants #android #androids #artificial intelligence #robots #cloning #future history #twilight zone #outer limits #out of the unknown #anthology series #Blade Runner #total recall #dystopia #posthuman #transhumanism #brave new world