“And then?”
The Senior stopped in front of the car. “Save that for another day, shall we?” He dug in his pocket and tossed the keys to a puzzled Kit. “The instructions are on the passenger seat.”
“Un-kink yourself, lad. Get going.”
Kit, still frozen, stared at the Senior.
“You can drive?”
Kit nodded glumly.
“Then I suggest you get to it. You're expected.” And the Senior promptly turned about and walked away.
***
A still-bewildered, and now moderately disheveled, Kit approached the building, glancing over each shoulder again and again, and opened the door.
“Not bad at all, boy. Not bad.”
Kit whirled about the empty lobby, and found the Senior sitting on a folding chair off to one side. He stalked towards him, and in doing so took in the room: beyond the plate glass door, heavy now that he came to think of it, the hall pulled a sharp left, with nothing left for the eye save an elevator, a stairway door, and the aforementioned man on a folding chair.
Now poised in front of the Senior, all of the curses and epithets Kit had collected for the man along his stressful drive all along the major and minor and dead end streets of the City failed him and the only word that could pass through his gritted teeth was “You!”
Kit drew himself up to his full height, took a deep breath, and at their finest moment together, or so Kit would retell the story, the elevator opened and a third figure joined the scene.
“Hello, Sir,” said a sharply dressed woman as she bent down to kiss the man on the cheek.
“Kathe,” said the Senior.
Wednesday, May 6, 2009
The Senior 5
The Group was new then, it being formed a few years earlier. Work was not plentiful, as there was still much competition throughout the City, but again, the group was new then; there weren't many of us. Everyone got work, though it was not always as challenging or as profitable as we desired.
I was younger then, and as such, I was given the contract for a shadow job. The idea at the time, and today as well, for I still believe it to be a good one, was to give the young and the new ones jobs of this nature, such that they would learn to be attentive and patient, to follow and observe, to become part of their surroundings instead of the proverbial sore thumb.
This was not my first shadow job, but it was early enough for me, in my youthful impatience and misunderstanding, to take it almost as a personal insult, as many young people still do.
Despite my training, was I not experienced enough to receive an action ticket? I thought to myself, had I made an error with a previous job, had there been complaints about my efficacy quotient? But as we were trained to, I let this line of inquiry run internally while getting ready for the job: I was an insurance policy.
The client harbored suspicions about the loyalty of a man in their organization, and this man was heading a delicate merging project. I was there to assure all items in question were signed, dated and initialed, as the expression goes, and finally returned to the client safely.
The man was to meet his contact in one of the transfer bays in Terminus and it was there three days prior to the meeting I installed myself.
I passed as one of the many businessmen that circulate throughout the bays and on occasion spend a night waiting for a connection. After day one, I could walk that bay blind. I had set up a small surveillance net, as per the client's request, and ran it through the course of my stay.
Direct and remote tests checked out, I grew progressively less comfortable sleeping on chairs. Puts an odd cramp in your back and makes you walk kind of crooked, you know?
The meeting finally occurred. The man appeared on time, as did his contact. They sat down, discussed, drank and reminisced, then agreed to the terms: he was given a briefcase as he handed over an envelope. Smiles all around.
As they rose to toast, the man broke procedure. With one hand around his glass, he used his other to stab his companion just under his ribcage. The man put down his glass, and eased his companion back down to the chair as he sank. He took the envelope off the table, lifted the briefcase, and walked away.
I was thrilled.
I was younger then, and as such, I was given the contract for a shadow job. The idea at the time, and today as well, for I still believe it to be a good one, was to give the young and the new ones jobs of this nature, such that they would learn to be attentive and patient, to follow and observe, to become part of their surroundings instead of the proverbial sore thumb.
This was not my first shadow job, but it was early enough for me, in my youthful impatience and misunderstanding, to take it almost as a personal insult, as many young people still do.
Despite my training, was I not experienced enough to receive an action ticket? I thought to myself, had I made an error with a previous job, had there been complaints about my efficacy quotient? But as we were trained to, I let this line of inquiry run internally while getting ready for the job: I was an insurance policy.
The client harbored suspicions about the loyalty of a man in their organization, and this man was heading a delicate merging project. I was there to assure all items in question were signed, dated and initialed, as the expression goes, and finally returned to the client safely.
The man was to meet his contact in one of the transfer bays in Terminus and it was there three days prior to the meeting I installed myself.
I passed as one of the many businessmen that circulate throughout the bays and on occasion spend a night waiting for a connection. After day one, I could walk that bay blind. I had set up a small surveillance net, as per the client's request, and ran it through the course of my stay.
Direct and remote tests checked out, I grew progressively less comfortable sleeping on chairs. Puts an odd cramp in your back and makes you walk kind of crooked, you know?
The meeting finally occurred. The man appeared on time, as did his contact. They sat down, discussed, drank and reminisced, then agreed to the terms: he was given a briefcase as he handed over an envelope. Smiles all around.
As they rose to toast, the man broke procedure. With one hand around his glass, he used his other to stab his companion just under his ribcage. The man put down his glass, and eased his companion back down to the chair as he sank. He took the envelope off the table, lifted the briefcase, and walked away.
I was thrilled.
Wednesday, April 22, 2009
The Senior 4
The Station had been called many thing throughout the Senior's time. The Terminal. The Station. Last End.
When he spoke of it, he called it Terminus, "As did my elders," he often said, even though the word was outdated it recalled a time when everything wasn't run through proceessors and hard drives and transistors that now lived inside the body and leached its power from the nervous system's electricity. The tools had changed, he remarked to Kit on the boy's first arrival.
One of the Group's satellite crews had sent Kit over at the Senior's behest, though none including Kit learned this until later. All that Kit knew was that he'd been ordered to pack his belongings into one bag, given a ticket to the city, and told he was now the crew's ambassador to the main branch.
When he arrived at the Station, the Senior had been waiting for him.
"I believe you're to be my guide," Kit announced as he approached an older man, taller than he with white hair and a sharp suit. "My company must have sent you."
The older man led Kit around the Station.
"How do you like Terminus? First time around here, yes?"
"Yes it is. It's so full," replied Kit. "So many people, even in such a large space. It almost feels small."
"The first time I came here, the Terminus was still new. I was about your age then, and I spent two days here."
When he spoke of it, he called it Terminus, "As did my elders," he often said, even though the word was outdated it recalled a time when everything wasn't run through proceessors and hard drives and transistors that now lived inside the body and leached its power from the nervous system's electricity. The tools had changed, he remarked to Kit on the boy's first arrival.
One of the Group's satellite crews had sent Kit over at the Senior's behest, though none including Kit learned this until later. All that Kit knew was that he'd been ordered to pack his belongings into one bag, given a ticket to the city, and told he was now the crew's ambassador to the main branch.
When he arrived at the Station, the Senior had been waiting for him.
"I believe you're to be my guide," Kit announced as he approached an older man, taller than he with white hair and a sharp suit. "My company must have sent you."
The older man led Kit around the Station.
"How do you like Terminus? First time around here, yes?"
"Yes it is. It's so full," replied Kit. "So many people, even in such a large space. It almost feels small."
"The first time I came here, the Terminus was still new. I was about your age then, and I spent two days here."
Sunday, April 19, 2009
The Senior 3
They rode the rest of the way in silence. The Senior focused on the lack of scenery flying past the windows: lights moving past fast enough to barely register as streaks in groups of two or three only to be replaced by a new group of lights and brief splashes of graffitti, none sharp enonugh to know anything about them other than the simple idea that they were there. The Senior's thoughts turned to permenance.
I shouldn't be here, he told himself. When I walked out it was the right thing, and she was a big girl. I didn't leave her, not just her, it wasn't personal.
He'd nearly jumped at his change to come back, he argued with himself, it was like being asked to come back home. And he'd left--
"Sir," said Kit, "We're here."
As the Senior stood, he glanced around the train. He could see to the other end of the train car and he had a view of the locked door near his end. His hands weren't in his pockets, one was, in fact, behind him, hanging at his back where his knife wasn't anymore, he realized. He hadn't carried since he left the group.
"Sir?" Kit asked, holding the door.
The Senior said nothing and walked out of the train, heading for the stairs.
The station was as crowded as could be expected given the time of day.
"Let's go," he said over his shoulder.
I shouldn't be here, he told himself. When I walked out it was the right thing, and she was a big girl. I didn't leave her, not just her, it wasn't personal.
He'd nearly jumped at his change to come back, he argued with himself, it was like being asked to come back home. And he'd left--
"Sir," said Kit, "We're here."
As the Senior stood, he glanced around the train. He could see to the other end of the train car and he had a view of the locked door near his end. His hands weren't in his pockets, one was, in fact, behind him, hanging at his back where his knife wasn't anymore, he realized. He hadn't carried since he left the group.
"Sir?" Kit asked, holding the door.
The Senior said nothing and walked out of the train, heading for the stairs.
The station was as crowded as could be expected given the time of day.
"Let's go," he said over his shoulder.
Friday, April 17, 2009
The Senior 2
As the door to the bar closed behind them, the Senior threw on his jacket then led Kit along the familiar route towards the train, and Kit hurried to keep abreast of the older man's quick stride.
"How long have the Foreigners been back in town," the Senior asked as he dodged pedestrians.
"They came back, Sir, about two years after you left. Until about three months back, they weren't taking any contracts in the City." Kit moved ahead to hold open the door to the station.
"That's why Ilse was sent in, I take it?"
"She hadn't been allowed to take on any solo work for some time. She was teamed with Kathe for this run, as well as the preceding two"
"Confrontation was expected." The Senior boarded the first available train with Kit in tow.
"No, Sir, I did not."
The Senior stopped. And stared hard.
"Things have become less stable within the group, Sir," Kit said as he moved past the Senior to take the seat next to him. Eyes front.
"She was incapable of solo work, Sir, shortly after you left."
The Senior deflated into his seat.
"Took it very poorly, Sir. She hadn't been sober since."
"She was never sober, boy," the Senior said quietly, looking out into space. "She was a fish."
"Yes Sir, until she swam to the bottom more times than she could handle."
They sat in silence as the train departed, and the silence continued as the Senior gazed out the window at the tunnels and lights.
"How long have the Foreigners been back in town," the Senior asked as he dodged pedestrians.
"They came back, Sir, about two years after you left. Until about three months back, they weren't taking any contracts in the City." Kit moved ahead to hold open the door to the station.
"That's why Ilse was sent in, I take it?"
"She hadn't been allowed to take on any solo work for some time. She was teamed with Kathe for this run, as well as the preceding two"
"Confrontation was expected." The Senior boarded the first available train with Kit in tow.
"No, Sir, I did not."
The Senior stopped. And stared hard.
"Things have become less stable within the group, Sir," Kit said as he moved past the Senior to take the seat next to him. Eyes front.
"She was incapable of solo work, Sir, shortly after you left."
The Senior deflated into his seat.
"Took it very poorly, Sir. She hadn't been sober since."
"She was never sober, boy," the Senior said quietly, looking out into space. "She was a fish."
"Yes Sir, until she swam to the bottom more times than she could handle."
They sat in silence as the train departed, and the silence continued as the Senior gazed out the window at the tunnels and lights.
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
The Senior 1
"Well met, Kit."
"Well met, Senior. Is this seat taken?"
"Give the boy a drink," the Senior said to the bartender without looking up at the boy. "What does he want?"
"He wants you to come home, Sir. I've been told to impress upon you the group's need for you in this time of crisis."
"He hasn't moved past those days, has he? It's not going to work, his savior-from-the-bad-old-days bit. We were shocked that it worked the first time, but to try for twice..."
"Yes Sir, I agree that the group's morale might not take the same shine to it, but those are his orders.
"The group is restless, Sir. Now that the foreigners have come back, he feels that your presence is crucial. We lost two of the old guard, Sir, Ilse and Kathe. They were taken during the 238th street incident. The foreigners left markers, Sir. They want the old land back."
"The foreigners took out the two girls, did they?" He took a long, long pull off his drink. "Did we manage to get their weapons back to the Center?"
"Yes sir, two of the four blades will remain in the hold."
"The girls are gone..." he mused as he finished his drink, and reached over for Kit's. "You haven't even touched it, boy. Starting to wonder about you," and he finished the second drink. "Pay the man, and let's get going."
"Where to, Sir?" Kit said as he reached out his hand to scan-out the payment.
"To the ceremony."
"Sir, they'ven been--they passed almost six days back."
"And he'll have waited for me. He sent you after me, didn't he? With his sense of theatrics, the
Captain will have it all ready to go once he hears of our return."
"Yes sir." Kit slumped. Despite knowing that the Senior hadn't been a player for some time, it was still hard to believe his grasp on the man everyone just called "Captain."
"Well met, Senior. Is this seat taken?"
"Give the boy a drink," the Senior said to the bartender without looking up at the boy. "What does he want?"
"He wants you to come home, Sir. I've been told to impress upon you the group's need for you in this time of crisis."
"He hasn't moved past those days, has he? It's not going to work, his savior-from-the-bad-old-days bit. We were shocked that it worked the first time, but to try for twice..."
"Yes Sir, I agree that the group's morale might not take the same shine to it, but those are his orders.
"The group is restless, Sir. Now that the foreigners have come back, he feels that your presence is crucial. We lost two of the old guard, Sir, Ilse and Kathe. They were taken during the 238th street incident. The foreigners left markers, Sir. They want the old land back."
"The foreigners took out the two girls, did they?" He took a long, long pull off his drink. "Did we manage to get their weapons back to the Center?"
"Yes sir, two of the four blades will remain in the hold."
"The girls are gone..." he mused as he finished his drink, and reached over for Kit's. "You haven't even touched it, boy. Starting to wonder about you," and he finished the second drink. "Pay the man, and let's get going."
"Where to, Sir?" Kit said as he reached out his hand to scan-out the payment.
"To the ceremony."
"Sir, they'ven been--they passed almost six days back."
"And he'll have waited for me. He sent you after me, didn't he? With his sense of theatrics, the
Captain will have it all ready to go once he hears of our return."
"Yes sir." Kit slumped. Despite knowing that the Senior hadn't been a player for some time, it was still hard to believe his grasp on the man everyone just called "Captain."
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
I Surrender
I cannot hold myself, because I lack discipline in the supreme, to my new rule.
I give in. I've been making excuses all day. And the day before, and before that, and before that.
I really hope to be able to re-start the project at some point soon. Not sure when yet, but, we'll see.
I give in. I've been making excuses all day. And the day before, and before that, and before that.
I really hope to be able to re-start the project at some point soon. Not sure when yet, but, we'll see.
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