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Nik aka Speaker To Cats	Project Lorraine.		Lead	[-]
Posts: 142 07/18/06 15:31:44	Tags : None Project Lorraine #1: Out Of Africa... It all began with another 'local difficulty' in central Africa. Many fled, gathered across three borders in make-shift and increasingly insanitary camps. Inevitably, disease and malnutrition ran ahead of the limited aid. Red Cross, Medicin San Frontieres and the others did the impossible, kept the death rate down to the usual grim toll. When a nurse took ill and died of a high fever, a haemorragic fever, no-one really noticed. What's one such tragedy among thousands ? Close ranks, work on. Then two more nurses and a doctor succumbed. It happens. Three more fell ill. That week put a dozen aid-workers in body-bags. The flares went up... CDC took point, with a dozen HotZoners plus support. MSF sent seven. SOTM spared three-- Su, Jayne and me. We staged through Cameroon, who provided logistics and Blue Helmets. Our convoy cut across the disputed corner. The first camp was the stuff of nightmare: Dead and dying everywhere, medics down to a couple of exhausted nurses and volunteers, stores looted and trashed. Those who could walk had fled, spreading disease. The only good news was the victims included most of the local bandits and militias. Gang-raping contagious patients had had Darwinian consequences... That camp gave us end-stage data. We left a burial detail, moved on. Second camp was worse. Death-rate was peaking. CDC tried to find the agent. Rest of us did what we could, mostly triage... Then half of us moved to Camp #3, which was reaching collapse. Rest of that month passed in a blur. We did find the agent, a resistant Pneumococcus with a mutant Phage hitch-hiker -- Like Legionnaires' on steroids. Specialised antibiotics would quell the bug, viral inhibitors would stop the phage. But, this was a triply contested corner of central Africa. Our Blue Helmets faced five or six factions of assorted lawlessness and dubious provenance. Budget 'relief' drugs were few, those new drugs were fewer, and each convoy was 'tolled' four ways. Then we caught it, too. Blue Helmets went down like flies. Us Hot Zoners were luckier, we'd had umpteen vaccinations. We got an immune response. The only drug we had in quantity seemed to be stale Aspirin, so we took that for our fever and worked on... Blue Helmets lost half their number. CDC bagged four good people, med-evac'd five. MSF bagged three. Two more never worked HotZones again. Su scraped through. Jayne got a bleeding ulcer, worked until she dropped, carried on with a drip running. I lost 50 pounds and my hair... The Blue Helmets and quarantine contained the outbreak: too virulent, it killed its carriers... Yes, I've seen the conspiracy theories. None of them hold even a figment of truth. It certainly was not a BioWar test-run. CDC checked for gene-splices, found nothing un-natural. Whole mess was another 'Out of Africa' event, like Lassa, Ebola or SIV...
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Nik aka Speaker To Cats	Project Lorraine #2: Expecting Someone Taller...	#1	[url]	[-]
Posts: 142 07/18/06 15:35:16	Chapter 2 : Expecting some-one taller... After the three of us returned to UK and checked clear of contagion, we were stuck on 'Light Duties'. At SOTM, that means you're co-opted by any committee that needs another member: keeping quorums is hard when folk get bleeped and run... I was promptly appointed SOTM's representative to a regional panel discussing Vampire issues. It seemed a waste of time because they'd never seen, met or communicated with a live Vampire, never mind had to hunt one. Their entire information was some scanty briefing notes, yet they'd spent a year talking about Vampire crypto-culture, building bridges, building trust, earnestly recycling the usual platitudes on Minorities, getting absolutely no-where. None-the-less, they'd turned out several detailed reports, and seemed determined to continue the series. Naturally, they considered my Vampire hunting experience to be disadvantageous, if not actively counter-productive... I sat through that interminable meeting, watching the clock count the minutes my next meal was late. I was ravenous. I was only there because a quirk of Amnesty law made Vampirism a 'Notifiable Disease', requiring SOTM input. I was only there because I actually knew a few things about Vampires, mostly how to kill Rogues and survive it. I was only there because I'd run out of better things to do. I was getting really, really hungry, and grumpy with it... "... Now, before we conclude today's productive session, I must ask if our Member from SOTM has any thoughts on stimulating cross-cultural communication ?" The words came out before I realised, "Student Exchange ?" They laughed, applauded my quip and adjourned the meeting. My mistake: it went in the Minutes. Those were circulated, perhaps wider than expected... I still do not know who whispered the unthinkable, 'Why not ?' I was dissecting a stack of low-level outbreak reports when Liz called me in, "Hi, Boss, who's died, and where ?" She slid the letter across to me, "Read this." " ... Student Exchange ... Cultural Immersion ... Proposal ... Discussion ... Technical Feasability ... Confirmed ? Authorised ? Proceed ? Me ?? You cannot be serious !!" "Wait, read this, too..." I skimmed the FX brochure, read it slower, carefully read it again, "Sure you haven't a nice Ebola carrier for me to trace ? Or a contagious TB3 ?" "No, this is your next assignment." "Why ?" "You are very thin--" "I'm eating a dozen tiny meals a day, re-gained a couple of pounds. Doc's happy." "You'll need to cut back." Liz shrugged, counted fingers, "You're quick witted, you're careful, you get along with the strangest people and, most important--" "Expendable ?" " 'Where Angels Fear To Tread.' " Liz nodded. We don't mention the silent second half of the Hot Zoners' Toast, 'Absent Friends'. "Okay, so I've done some daft things..." "You have the knack of being in the right place at the right time, and finding the right thing to say or do--" "I've been lucky--" " 'Luck favours the Prepared.' " Liz mis-quoted, "They've asked for you specifically." "Why ?" "It is... complicated." Liz allowed, "Part is your record of kills--" "Revenge ? I've a dozen to my name..." "All Rogues." Liz stated, "Tell me: How many civilians have killed more than one Rogue ?" "Excluding Road Kills ? D'uh, there's Quiet Mac, works out of Formby--" "Ghillie's son, ex Army." "Joe, from Wharton ?" "Retired Safari guide, a White Hunter." "Mike in the Peak District ?" "Outward Bound Centre's Survivalist." "Jones in mid-Wales ?" "Psycho: should be in Broadmoor." "East Coast, the Reverend Peters ?" "Crazy like a fox." Liz rolled her eyes, "Thinks he's a Knight Templar..." "Hmm... New Forest area, Phil something ?" "Park Ranger, natural woodsman." "L.C. in London ?" "She's a Slayer." "Ah." I'd wondered, "But I'm not--" "A Slayer ? True, you don't have the reflexes." "Or the legs !" I quipped, "At least we can agree on that--" "And, lastly, there's you." Liz stated, "But you're different. You're not a Hunter. You're just a nice bloke with a knack--" "I do the leg-work, flush Rogues and blow them away. Un-sporting, but effective." "As I said, you have a knack... " Liz shuffled her papers, "Might be something more: local Vampire community calls you 'RogueBane'." "What ?" "It's a Vampire title, like an Old West Marshal. You're doing it already, but didn't know. They want to make it official, and help you do it better..." "You are serious ? They want me --a HomoSap-- to do their internal law-enforcement ?" "Yes." "Shit..." I worked it through, "Guarantees ?" "Three ways: Your swap, hostages and something they call Blood Trade." Liz caught my look, "Purely symbolic, they know we can't digest much blood. Makes you Kin." "Shit..." I shook my head, "They are serious about this. Do I have a choice ?" "Take it or leave it." Yeah, right... "I'll need to think about this." I hedged, "Do some research..." "You always say that !" Liz grinned, pushed the letter and folder across the desk, "So I'll give you an hour. Then we've a Detox in the DarkRoom. Happens he brought in the offer. Go chat." My hasty info-search gave me ample food for thought. I emptied my pockets, was scanned and patted down at the security gates. I sat in an alcove until my eyes had adjusted to the dim red lighting, which gave me time to think some more. Usually, Vampires were uncommunicative. Patients would not talk beyond essentials, injured Rogues either stayed silent or shrieked. This could be a first... I found the private room, knocked on the door. "Come in..." The invitation was weak, but polite. People still think of Vampires as their movie caricatures. Some do play up to the rle, but the reality is often disappointing. The original Nosferatu, a wizened, pallid ancient with an odd craving, is a typical, healthy Elder. For youngsters, LOTR's Gollum comes close. This one was middle-aged and unwell. He looked like a little old man, flesh lost to age, wrinkled, parchment-thin skin draped across gaunt bones. He was connected to a Dialysis machine plus an Activated Carbon stack, was obviously unhappy. "Hello." I offered, "I'm Chris. You asked to talk to me ?" He sat up with some difficulty, "You are the RogueBane ? I-- I was expecting some-one taller..." "I've been ill." "Ah... That terrible business in Africa ?" "Yes." "You hunt Rogues, yet you suggest a 'Student Exchange' ?" "The other committee members had never seen, met or communicated with a live Vampire. Or tried." "They were so ignorant of their ignorance ?" "They convinced me." "Ah ?" A fanged grin, "You made a joke !" I nodded. "That explains much !" He chuckled, "Please, sit ! I regret I cannot offer much hospitality..." "My stomach shrank, and I'm between meals..." I shrugged, perched on the plastic patio-chair. "Do you oppose this proposal ?" "Nu." I stated, "I doubt its success. I doubt I am the correct candidate. I doubt my courage." "I doubt we could find better." "I doubt that, too." The moment stretched, until, "You were told of the guarantees we would offer ?" "Yes." "Do you doubt them ?" "I doubt all will abide by such guarantees." "Ah, you fear an attack by Rogues ?" "Or a dissident faction." "As do we..." "Unless...?" I offered, "Perhaps there is a solution ?" "We found no certain way..." "What if we accept, but stall in committee ? Argue over details of my agenda, meetings etc. Meanwhile, the proposal goes ahead in secret. If it does not work, it never happened. If it works, then agree my agenda to match events, and I'll take a holiday." "Ahh..." "Now tell me that was your best option, but I had to suggest it." "We did not consider such misdirection..." He chuckled. "You don't have a cousin high in the Civil Service..." "So, you would do this thing ? You would take our form ? You would live among us ? You would eat, sleep, dress and play as we do ?" "To the extent of my metabolism and ethics." I stated, "So no 'Blood Sports' or overt sexuality. I prefer my steaks 'Medium-to-Well' or braised, my eggs 'Easy-Over' and my position 'Missionary'. But, I enjoy Sushi and know some Yoga." "That is acceptable... What of Black Pudding ?" "Correctly cooked, I enjoy a slice or two. And, yes, I know it is Blood Sausage." That earned a grin, "You are deeper than the reports suggest." "Aren't we all ?" "Hmm... Are you subject to unreasonable fear of close confinement ?" "Claustrophobia ? No." "This is important." "Okay... I've done SCUBA diving and squeeze-caving, even camped in a 'coffin tent' hung off a cliff. And I was held hostage in a packing crate for two weeks." "You were kidnapped, but escaped ? The reports varied..." "One of the Unquiet 'Stans: Faction thought I was valuable. Blue Helmets intervened. I escaped in the confusion." "From a padlocked crate in a guarded cave ?" "They over-nailed the crate and weakened it." "And you killed your captors with bare hands ?" "Untrue." Indeed: I'd used a rock, the first guard's AK, the second's grenades... "You are an excellent shot, yet you had no prior military or hunting experience ?" "Play Station and Paint Ball." I quipped, "Plus a Canadian Master Sargeant who thought us innocent Medics should know the rudiments. Happens I was a natural shot. After that, I'd familiarise myself with anything I could get my hands on." He considered that, "You do not fear our Glamour ?" "Not worth the risk." I shrugged, left him to wonder exactly what I meant, added, "What does a Blood Trade involve ?" "In this context, a few drops of blood drawn by a stone blade, yet freely given." "So I've read." I turned my hand, showed the tiny, flint arrow-head I'd found years ago, as sharp as the day it was knapped in pre-history, "Would this do ?" "Yes !" He gasped, "So, you agree ?" "Subject to my metabolism and ethics." "Then scratch a finger-tip for me to take your blood, and thus for mine." I nicked my little finger, offered the welling bead for his taste. He nodded, took the point, pierced his finger, let me lick it. "Now we are Blood Kin." He smiled, "My Taken name is Montague, Monty to friends. Okay, Chris, let's get this show on the road..."
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Nik aka Speaker To Cats	Project Lorraine #3: Face / On	#2	[url]	[-]
Posts: 142 07/19/06 13:36:50	The following Monday, I walked around the corner from the nearest Metro stop to that FX Studio outside Manchester. They poured me into a target-tagged body sock, laser-scanned me sitting and standing, walking, bending, turning and jumping. They took unpleasant alginate casts of my head and neck, hands, feet and inside my mouth. After one week, they had the 'vanilla' latex head-over mask and other prostheses ready to try. They trimmed, adjusted, tweaked and twiddled, then took alginate casts of me wearing them. After two weeks, the first Goretex 'SecondSkin(TM)' faux-leather mask was ready. I looked in the small mirror, a passable HomoVamp looked back. Even with my green eyes, it was good enough to make my skin crawl. The big mirror still showed a skinny HomoSap in a scary mask, but the FX crew seemed satisfied with progress. After reclaiming the mask, they gave me 'training' dental prostheses and a speech-training booklet, waved me off. After three weeks, my first body-glove was ready to try. Like the mask, thickness varied from vellum to steak --probably moulded-- but that did not explain the muscle groups, tendons, bony outcrops and veins visible beneath the skin. "Okay, I've a pair of hiking boots in this stuff: How did you vary the texture and heft ?" "You have expensive tastes !" Bill the Boss Modeller chuckled, "Sorry, Commercial Secret." "Hmm..." I'd had a week to wonder, looked closer, picked out a curious speckling on the inner surface, denser near any features. These tiny dimples resembled tattoo damage, or anti-wrinkle lipid injection micro-scars. I smiled, wondered if they had 3D software to plan and predict density changes... "Put it on." Bill offered a big pot of baby cream, "You'll need lots of this..." It helped. The suit fitted like a ski-glove, had just enough elasticity to slide over my joints. At first, it sat oddly. Given a minute, air escaped from the myriad micro-pores and it settled. True to its 'SecondSkin' tag, it seemed to vanish. I've no nudity taboo but, wearing it, I felt naked. Head-over mask, hand and feet gloves went on, were marked for detail and seams... Next time would be the finale so, back at SOTM, I worked through my pre-HotZone check-list. Home-minder, aye. Conditional Power of Attorney, aye. Bank(s) warned, aye. PC archived, aye. E-mail redirected, aye. Bequest changes, nay. Pendings listed, aye. ETA (Return), nu. Friday, I wrote polite letters to my brother, sisters and Favourite Aunt. I enclosed the usual cheques for nieces' and nephews' forthcoming birthdays. I wrote a cheerful letter to my Civil Servant cousin, thanking him for his wonderful --if unattributable-- tales of Byzantine inter- and intra-departmental squabbles. I pre-paid my share of the Department's Lottery entry for twelve weeks, hung the 'Okay To Clean' sign on my office door and left early... Monday, both sets of contact lenses had arrived. The 'second stage' was ready. My luggage and 'legend' had arrived. Decision time: I gulped, signed the consent form, undressed. I've often worn a catheter in HotZone suits, so I knew to r_e_l_a_x and NOT squirm. The difference was this ended in a neat valve instead of a catch-bag. The FX crew bonded finger and toe talon nubs to my nails. While those set, they slathered me with baby cream. Still, it took three of them to ease me into my Vampire body-glove and connect the pipe. Mask on, close up, wait. The glove settled. I moved, it moved with me. A crew-member moved a screen. The corner-- I glimsed a Vampire, spun to a fighting stance despite the glove. The crew scattered. It matched my moves. I looked again-- The room corner was mirrored. I'd seen me. I'd seen me as others would. I forced myself to relax... "Ruddy Hell !!" Bill allowed, "You move like a Velociraptor !" "Thank you, I think..." Talking was difficult, even without fake fangs, "Stage Two ?" Special, near-opaque, brown contact lenses were next. The outer face had a graded photo-chromic layer to mimic pupil dilation. With them in, I was blind until my own pupils dilated and gave me night-vision. That still left me partially-sighted and somewhat colour-blind. The bulky 'Human' body-glove came next. It made me look chubby and sallow. Its finger and toe-nails engaged with my talon nubs, oddly lengthened my fingers and feet. Its plumbing engaged with mine. When I moved, I waddled, flat-footed. I slipped in my 'Human' dental prostheses, tongued them to place. "Mum, Um, Bleagh! Ooh, 'hot 'hoo 'halk ah 'hifferent 'hay..." I'd practised with those Mk#1 dentures every night, but not wearing one mask, never mind two ! I tried again, "Ah ham hso ghlad Ah dho hnot hwear dhentutheth..." "You're doing well !" Bill grinned, "How do you feel ?" Should I quote Spock, or tell the truth ? The stink of my sweat was already bleeding through... "Thanity Theck Thailth !" I wheezed, "Thantheth, Thill Thobhinthon !!" "You'll do !!" Bill chuckled, "We've had hardened SF actors freak out with half your FX..." "Thank-k-k thu, Ah thinhk-k-k..." "We've done enough Vampire / Human conversions: You've taken it better than most..." "Oh?" "You would be astonished how many 'Straight To Video' projects quietly fold. Just so long as we're paid..." He chuckled, " But why SOTM ?" "Thtrrrainingh --Ghotcha-a-a ! Trrraining-g-g. E-e-exerrcis-s-se" I allowed, panted, "I. Pulled. Short. Straw....They. Must. Find. Me. And. Take. Me. Alive... D'uh... This. Is. Hard. Work." "All down-hill from here, Chris ! Where do you want your case ?" "T-t-table, p-p-please." I checked the security seal's code, broke the tie, unlocked the cheap, new case with the key I'd been sent, examined the contents. Cotton socks, large, baggy shorts and large vests, aye. Very large, loose cotton pants and braces, aye. Long, large, loose shirts, aye. Two baggy safari-cut jackets, aye. Foreign slip-on shoes, aye. Cheap expanding-strap watch in sock in shoe, aye. Generic wash-bag with disposable hotel toiletries, aye. Minimum dipotre reading glasses, aye. Zipped waist-pouch with 'valuables', aye. I tipped this out. A little black note-book had cryptic notes, directions and illegible addresses in several 'hands'. A wallet held assorted Euros, a Metro DayRider ticket, airport shop receipts for the clothes and case, a smudged 'lost baggage' claim-stub and my borrowed ID. I peered at the card. Though I was no expert and my sight was now impaired, it looked and felt genuine. I'd become 'Brendan Smith', but I'd kept my age, blood-group and such. Curiously, it claimed I was sub-clinically haemophiliac. Why ? No-one would want a blood-sample-- A memory surfaced. I nodded. That comment would bypass most iris recognition checks. Cunning, and a revelation... There was also a much-folded sheet of paper in the pouch's inner pocket. I opened it out, found a large-print fax from Network Rail telling me to collect my prepaid ticket from Victoria station before 18:35 this day, quoting reference.... I'd have several hours to kill, but I could not delay. I turned to Bill, "You. Have. A. Strict. NDA?" "Of course." He nodded, "SOTM's is civilized compared to a studio lawyer's contract." "Could I. Have. Some help. Getting dressed ?" "No problem--" "And a lift. To. A. Different. Metro stop ?" "Sure ! Which way are you going ?" "Piccadilly. Perhaps.... Then. Wing. It." "Sounds good ! Pete, give this crazy guy a hand with his pants..."
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Nik aka Speaker To Cats	Project Lorraine #4: Down The Rabbit Hole...	#3	[url]	[-]
Posts: 142 07/20/06 06:24:20	Chapter 4: Down The Rabbit Hole... I caught the second Metro tram, rode it two stops, waddled into a Charity shop I'd scouted two weeks earlier. I picked out four large-print books, over-paid in Euros, left the change as a donation. Then I crossed the track and rode back five stops. I let two trams pass, took the third to Victoria. The booking clerk examined my fax and asked for ID. I showed my 'Brendan Smith'. She peered at us, nodded, produced the ticket and a detailed, large-print itinerary, added, "Platform Three, forty minutes. Coach two. Your seat is reserved. Train won't be in until quarter-past. Grab a coffee here, there's no buffet on this service." "Thank. You... You've. Been. Very. Helpful..." I wheezed. "You're welcome, Mr. Smith! Mind how you go !" With my dual rig, a mug of coffee was impossible. I struggled into a concourse shop, dropped the first basket, then collected half a dozen mini-carton drinks, the type with straws. I added Astronomy and National Geographic magazines for fun, plus a depressingly down-market Scientific American for its lurid cover-feature, 'Vampires ! Behind the Wall of Silence !' The check-out took Euros without complaint, gave me UK change. I'd been unsure of the 'petty cash' arrangements, so added a wad of my own notes, had plenty to spend. To my embarassment, a spry old lady held the door for me... I was still too early, so I waddled along to the toilets and took a wide 'Disabled' booth. That gave me room to put all but one book and two drinks into my tow-along case. Then I went through the inelegant process of aligning my 3rd-person plumbing with the pan. Squeezing the realistic 'ball-valve' was a bizarre experience-- I kept tensing in expectation of excruciating pain ! Bill's instructions had under-stated the problems, but I managed to relieve myself without disaster. Allowing ten minutes, I made my way to the platform, showed the ticket, boarded. The seat was the inner of two, boldly carded 'B.SMITH'. My case easily slid into the luggage space. A commuter train, there was a last minute rush. A chatty couple came directly to my row, looked between me and my reservation card with surprise, then pushed through to the next section. A middle-aged business woman pounced on the vacancy. She settled into the empty seat with a huge sigh. She glanced at my pudgy features, at my large-print book. She smelled my sweat, looked around hastily, but all other seats had filled. She groaned, busied herself with her 'Evening News'. I changed trains after half an hour, dragged case and bag across the bridge to the other platform. The twenty minute margin for my connection also gave me time for that first carton of juice. The local train reached my ticket's destination at dusk. Now I just had to wait. I wandered along the empty platform, found a seat, tried to get comfortable. The lights came on, night fell. Trains trundled through, delivered commuters and collected clubbers. I sipped my second carton dry, enjoyed the evening's cool and waited for something to happen. A mucky van pulled up beyond the fence. Its stocky driver climbed out, walked to the gate and held up a hand-written sign, 'B. SMITH'. I waved from my seat. He strode up, gave me a hug, "Uncle B ! It's good to see you again !" "And, you, Lad !" I wheezed, mischievously adding, "You're late !" "Traffic.." He gestured vaguely, "May I take your case-- and bag ??" "Please..." "This way..." He fussed over my balky seat-belt, then drove off into the night. Beyond the station lights, I was effectively blind. From the twists, turns and road-noises, I estimated we'd doubled back more than once. He did his best to confuse my sense of direction by checking for pursuit. After we crossed the same bridge twice in five minutes, he seemed satisfied and set a course for home. I glimpsed a tree-shrouded sign for 'Priory Farm Enterprise Centre' before the van turned into its yard. One corner was well lit. "I'll bring the luggage: Go on, you're expected !" I waddled across the yard. Beside the door, neat signs announced 'OFFICE', 'B&B EnSuite' and 'Vacancies'. The door opened, a plump woman called, "Charlie ? Put the van away right now, then bring Uncle B's case !!" "Okay, Ma !" "Come in, Uncle B, come in !" She helped me across the threshold step, steered me through to a sprawling country kitchen, parked me in a big chair, "Poor dear ! You must be exhausted ! Pot of tea ? Or something stronger ?" I shook my head, "Water. Please... Straw ?" "Oh, we don't have none of those !" She announced, drew a generous jug of water, filled a chunky glass. Fortunately I'd kept my two from the mini-cartons, and methodically drained the glass. "Will you be staying long this time ?" "Sorry..." I shook my head, "Depends. Schedule..." "Ah, there you are, Charlie-- Took you long enough ! Put Uncle B's case-- and bag ?-- in Three, turn the covers back..." She glanced at the unexpected bag, hesitated, "Have you brought something nice ?" That was easy, "Airline. Lost. Baggage..." "So all you have is expensive airport rubbish ?" She shook her head, "Oh, you poor dear ! More water ?" "Please..." I'd rationed myself, but now I could quench my thirst, "Nice ! Your. Own. Well ?" "Oh, yes ! Our own bore-hole ! Very pure, just right for a sensitive tum !" I nodded politely, sucked the refill dry, "Thank. You... Most. Welcome..." "Gosh, you must be parched ! " She shook her head, "Would you like to go up to your room and freshen ? I've not put the wash in yet, so I could add your whites. They'd be ready for breakfast ?" "Please...Long day..." I stood, hesitated, offered my hand. "Oh, everyone calls me 'Ma' !" She chuckled, "Ma, GrandMa, Auntie Ma, Cousin Ma-- All short for Marge !" "Pleasure. To. Meet. You. Ma !" I managed as she pumped my hand. "Now you need to freshen and sit down comfy for a while, get our home under your feet ! Put your washing out, and one of the lads will be up to fetch you later !" "Thank. You. Ma !" Charlie returned to help me up the stairs, "Here we are, Number Three: Nice bed, en-suite, walk-in wardrobe. Phone on bedside table. Inside bolt. Case on the rack, bag on the coffee-table. Good, solid shutters against the Dawn Chorus ! See you later, Uncle B !" "Thanks. Charlie !" The bed was a splendid four-poster with drapes, the en-suite was palatial, piled with extra towels. It was a real guest-house, but they were working to a script. My unexpected bag had proved that ! And it would not surprise me if 'Charlie' had used a duplicate key to quickly check my case. I grinned, I had few secrets, but none were in the case ! Enough. I slowly unpacked, shaking and hanging the spare trousers and shirts on the walk-in's rail, putting my oversized 'smalls' in the dresser drawer. I shed my sweat-stained and crumpled clothes, checked their pockets then bundled them ready to wash. I waddled 'naked' into the en-suite, operated my plumbing, rinsed my double-gloved hands from habit. I was going to use a flannel to wipe my salt streaks, but the shower cubicle was generously sized, so I used that for speed. I used the 'blow dry' option rather than towel myself or drip on the carpet, crashed on a bath-towel on the bed. I'd lain there for ten minutes when the phone rang, "Hello ?" "Uncle B ?" "Yes ?" "Put your washing out, set the bolt, dim the lights then wait for a knock." "Hello, who is this ?" "Put your washing out, set the bolt, dim the lights then wait for a knock." The caller repeated, then rang off. I weighed my options, shrugged. I eased my door ajar, placed my bundle on the threshold, pushed it out with the door. I set the solid bolt. Then I sat on my towel, dimmed the lights to 'night' and waited. The knock came, but not from the room door. The 'walk-in' creaked open, Gollum's cousin peered out. He wore a loin-cloth, held another, "Hello, Uncle B ! I'm Pete. May I help you dress for dinner ?" I needed a moment to suppress first a flinch, then a giggle, "Please..." I stood, reached back into the fleshy folds of my nape, found the recessed tag, got the zip open a couple of inches, "Can you work this for me ?" Pete drew it down to my buttocks seam. I spilled out of the fat suit like a moulting cave instar, eased out my head, freed my arms and legs, knelt panting, "Phew !" I popped out my dentures, dropped them in a glass, worked my mouth, "Oh, it is good to talk..." I knelt by my fat-suit, opened the internal pouches that firmed its 'man-boobs'. One had my fangs. I popped them in. The other held my contacts kits. I used my dresser mirror and the sucker to extract my 'puppy browns', blinked with relief. Before I lost my nerve, I put in my blood-red 'Vamps'. I turned quickly, half-hissed, "Have I time for a shower ?" Pete flinched back, shook himself, nodded, "Yes ! Yes, of course ! Please..." I stood in the shower to wash off the salt, a little longer just to feel clean. The blow-dry meant minimal towelling. I padded back into the bedroom. Pete sniffed the air, nodded his approval, gestured at my remarkably Vampiric 'Second Skin', "We did not expect this: You do us a great honour." I grinned, making him flinch again, "At least these contacts let me see ! Now, is there a formal style, or just 'Beach Wrap' ?" " 'Old Egyptian'-- don't ask !" Pete chuckled, "I'll show you..." I practised the twist and tuck until he was satisfied, "Good. You will not wear your human form again for several days. What do you need ?" I pointed to my bag, now holding the three magazines, "Also these spare fangs and red contacts." "I will carry them." Pete took the loaded bag, "The way is narrow, steep and dark: you will need both hands." "Thanks ! Okay, Pete, lead on !"
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Nik aka Speaker To Cats	Comments, please...	#4	[url]	[-]
Posts: 142 07/20/06 09:52:05	I'm almost writing this 'on the fly', a departure from my usual style that takes a dozen major re-writes spread over several years.... Comments invited. Next chapter will be 'Uncanny Valley'...
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The Rock Doctor	Re: Project Lorraine.	#5	[url]	[-]
Posts: 14 07/21/06 14:05:16	Got to admit I'm not quite seeing the point of the vamp body glove. I assume it's intended to help with the cultural immersion aspect of the assignment, since the narrator himself is known and expected by his hosts?
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Nik aka Speaker To Cats	Piercing preconceptions...	#6	[url]	[-]
Posts: 142 07/21/06 15:04:52	Close enough... {FX: DBWI Vampires ? } HomoSap only has two slots in Vampire ecology: Trustee and Prey. How do you bypass that cultural bind ? Helps if you can side-step their reflexes. Helps if they see you care... Next chapter gets into that...
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Nik aka Speaker To Cats	Re: Project Lorraine #5: Uncanny Valley...	#7	[url]	[-]
Posts: 142 07/21/06 15:11:52	Chapter 5: Uncanny Valley... The lower set of my walk-in's blanket-shelves had swung out as a door. "Go left." Pete directed, "I'll close." I ducked through into a narrow passage minimally lit by a red LED pencil-torch on the floor. Behind me, Pete closed the shelves, began to re-fit a thick wall panel, "Go ahead, wait at the stairs. Mind the high step." I crept forwards in total darkness, came to a right turn into a narrower section, sidled through. Another dozen feet found a high threshold. I eased out, felt my way out onto precipitous stone spiral stairs. A well-worn Medieval 'vice', it had irregular, dished steps and no hand-rail. "Go up a few steps..." Pete followed me out. He closed the hatch on our passage, led the way down. Given Pete's fire-fly of a torch, we were climbing mostly by feel. I noticed four narrow recesses, three small hatches and two bricked-up slits, probably missed several more. After an odd step, like a repair, we reached a more irregular section with a different pitch. Given the distance, I felt we'd gone underground. Another turn and a half, then the stygnian spiral ended at a small, iron-bound postern door. Pete tapped on the frame with his talon nubs. Bolts slid, the door creaked open on another Gollum cousin. Pete handed me through into the dim, barrel-vaulted corridor, followed, adding, "Thanks, Mick !" The gate-keeper nodded politely, hesitated, sniffed, glared at me,"Hey ! You stink of Sap !" "Sure he does." Pete chuckled, "Uncle Brendan's testing a new disguise. Don't worry, Charlie and Ma checked him out." "D'uh..." "Now, Mick, where's your manners ?" "Sorry, Uncle Pete... Sorry, Uncle Brendan..." "That's better, Mick. When are you off duty ?" "Nine ? No, ten !" "Well, come along to the Hall after. We'll still be there." "Wow, thanks, Uncle Pete !" Mick almost danced as he closed the bolts behind us. We'd turned two corners, stepped down into a wider, taller passage, before Pete spoke again, "Some Nests, litters still eat their Runts..." A dozen yards on, crowd noises drifted from an arched doorway. Pete pushed open the double doors. I blinked. It was a typical, cheerful club-room, with an assortment of coffee tables and seating. There were at least forty Vampires sat or stood. They ranged from Juveniles to Elders, of both sexes. A few sat alone or with papers, most were gossiping in the usual human way. Pete eased me in. We drew glances, but no concern. After all, this was their home... Then the nearest sniffed, glanced at us, looked between us in confusion. His partner turned. She looked us over, hesitated, stepped back. Her uncertain movement drew others' notice. A ripple of silence rolled out across the room. Forty-something pairs of puzzled blood-red eyes locked upon mine. I looked around calmly, picked out a familiar face. The month had worked wonders on his body, too, "Hello, Monty !" "Blood and Sand !" Monty exploded. He strode through the shocked crowd, hugged me off my feet, "I would not have believed it-- I did not expect THIS-- Look at you !!" He shivered, turned, raised a hand, called, "Be It Known: Chris, travelling as Brendan, is my BloodKin !" The gasps told me much, the rude exclamations told me more. A tall Vampire stood, made the range of opinions clear, "So this is your Pet Sap, Monty ? That stay in their world has Bent your mind !" "Chris is no Pet, Frank: He is RogueBane." Some looked interested, others were alarmed, most puzzled. Frank was un-impressed, "Ha ? So your Pet catches Fledgelings ?" Monty turned to me, "Chris, how many Rogues, now ?" "As of last week... ? " I grinned, "Fourteen." Frank froze. Suddenly, there was movement, the crowd opening space between us, and behind him to the wall. It was so like an old Western, it made me grin again. My loin-cloth scarcely had space for an invite, so I wondered what they feared. It didn't matter. "You are Hee-EE ?" Frank's voice cracked, he gulped, "I-- I thought you would be taller..." "I've been ill." "That terrible business in Africa..." Monty kindly explained. "The Haemorragic Fever ?" A Caucasian Vampire, Frank could not be any paler, but he did the next best-- He shivered. His mouth worked. He licked his lips. He drew a careful breath, then a second. Finally, he felt he could trust himself to speak, "Chris, travelling as Brendan, BloodKin of Montague, please forgive my unkind words. I-- I let prejudice rule my speech." "Apologies accepted." I nodded, grinned, "Hey, your opinions are mild compared to those of the wider HomoSap community: Many would cheerfully Stake me for this !" That earned cautious nods, and a few chuckles. I turned to Monty, "Is it your custom to shake hands on a settlement ?" "Our mores are different: There is a Clasp of Companionship." Monty turned to Frank, lifted an open hand. Frank stiffened, nodded reluctantly, stepped forwards. They met as if about to arm-wrestle, then stepped apart. Frank turned to me. I matched Monty's stance. Frank went for a knuckle-crusher, but I'd tensed my hand. He seemed surprised. He eased back to 'firm', gave me a closer look. I watched his eyes search mine, search my mask's features. Frank disengaged, stepped back, "Chris, travelling as Brendan, your disguise is artful... May I touch your face ?" I hesitated a bare instant, nodded once. Frank reached s_l_o_w_l_y. He ran a talon nub down my left 'cheekbone', then further, across my neck to the 'carotid'. He stopped there for longer than I liked. He moved out across my shoulder, traced the 'muscle groups', drifted down my arm and onto my hand... Frank shuddered, stepped back, "How is this done ?" "I don't know." I shrugged, added, "Perhaps a tattoo process guided by software ?" Frank shuddered again, "Your likeness is imperfect-- Yet it is TOO perfect ! You appear un-natural..." "Ah..." I had a thought, " 'Uncanny Valley' ? Person / Non-Person recognition is ambiguous." He took time to think that through, nodded slowly, "Yes... Most disconcerting..." "I'm sorry." "No." Frank stated, "Again, you have held a mirror to my soul: What I see is coloured by my ghosts..." I had the sense to keep my mouth shut. Frank gathered himself, "Chris, Monty ? Would you dine at my table tonight ? We have much to discuss..." Suddenly, the room was full of grins and smiles. Monty clapped me across the shoulders, "Come, Chris ! Frank and I have tales that would curl your fangs !"
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Nik aka Speaker To Cats	Need help on menu...	#8	[url]	[-]
Posts: 142 07/24/06 03:58:40	'Project Lorraine' is currently 'Out to Lunch'. Folks, I really need some help with their menu: items may be oddly prepared and seasoned, but nothing outrageous... Faux-French translations, please !!
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The Rock Doctor	Re: Need help on menu...	#9	[url]	[-]
Posts: 14 07/24/06 17:40:35	Good question. I'm used to reading about diets of blood. But since these vamps are genetically related to humans, the nutritional needs are probably similar. For a large group gathering, perhaps the main course is a series of raw meats (beef, pork, lamb, goat, horse, etc, rather than much fish or poultry). Serve communally - I'm visualizing traditional Inuit feasts I've been to where the various cuts of raw caribou, muskox, char, and so forth are laid out on long sheets of waxed paper on the floor, and the folks (starting with the elders) just sit down next to whatever they intend to eat. As for drinks, how about a broth or puree that includes vegetable and fruit contents, so they can avoid the hassle of eating their greens yet still get the nutrients. Perhaps the mode of service somehow simulates the blood-drinking experience?
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Nik aka Speaker To Cats	Project Lorraine Chapter #6: Fast food...	#10	[url]	[-]
Posts: 142 07/30/06 14:54:31	Project Lorraine chapter #6: Fast Food When the side doors opened and we streamed through into their dining room, I did not know what to expect. But a 'normal', if dim staff canteen ? Vinyl tiled floor ? Neatly tabarded Vampire caterers ? A stack of chipped trays ? Plastic on steel-tube stackable chairs ? Laminate tables ? "Hygiene rules." Monty shrugged, "This is only 'Second Breakfast', so eat light: I can recommend today's Small Bolognese, while those baby carrots and beets are just 'al dente'." "Er, okay... What's to drink ?" Frank grinned, "Make that three, with tomato juice all around !" The older Vampires chose similar, slow-carb meals. Youngsters piled their plates with protein, mostly braised lamb chops or ribs, plus essential greens and root-veg. There was no cashier. We collected paper napkins and plastic cutlery, found a table. "Not what I expected..." I sighed with relief. Frank looked to Monty, "You told Chris so little, then ?" "I made a point of not asking." I stated. "Ah ? Monty ?" "Chris asked me --us-- to respect his ethics and digestion. Period." "Ah... What do you know of the arrangements for this week ?" "I'm here. I'm your guest. I'll try to fit in." "Do your people know where you are ?" Frank puzzled. "Know ? Certainly not ! Sure, careful detective work could trace me to that station, but the trail ends there. Charlie was careful, and 'Brendan' is night-blind." "You do not fear we might sacrifice our hostages to remove your threat ?" "It would be a poor trade." I shrugged, "I'm more concerned about faction fights and Rogues." Frank thought on that for a moment, "Why ?" "Why not ?" I quipped, "If you're going to tell me that you, personally, ate my predecessor, I'd better warn you I'm stringy." "Gah !" Monty dropped his fork, covered his mouth, chuckled, "That was in bad taste !" "Ah. " Frank considered, "You consider yourself expendable ?" "I'm a HotZoner." "Of course..." Frank allowed, "You are not without fear, you are driven by duty..." Monty grinned, "See, Frank ? Chris is no-one's Pet." "Hmm. What were you told of our divisions and politics ?" "Nothing." I stated, "I did not ask, and Monty did not volunteer anything. Yes, there were hints and clues. SOTM knew there were factions." "As you have deduced, we represent opposing factions." Frank tossed Monty a token snarl, "Monty is considered Progressive, I am very Traditional. Chris, your arrival --your unusual arrival-- has complicated matters. What do you hope to achieve ?" "To see what you want me to see, to learn what you want me to know. Your call." Frank hesitated, drained his tomato juice, "May I try an experiment ?" "Nothing too dangerous, please..." "Surely." Frank stared at me for a long moment, stood and walked towards the soft drink jugs. I noticed Monty watching my gaze, glanced back at Frank's empty chair. Carefully, I waved a hand through the gap. Monty grinned. I resumed my battle with the spaghetti. Frank returned with three fresh glasses of tomato juice, looked to Monty, "Well ?" "Your Glamour is strong--" Monty began, too politely. "When did you notice ?" Frank asked me. "Notice what ?" "For a moment, Chris suspected your leaving was the attempted illusion." Monty replied for me. Frank sat carefully, "That explains much..." He sipped his juice as I finished my pasta, added, "Most children can pierce Glamour, as can cats and many dogs. Generally, HomoSap children lose the instinct as their schooling advances... You are resistant to hypnotism ?" "Yes." I nodded. "That fits, too..." Frank chuckled, "And you are honest to a fault-- Do not deny this ! You may disguise it as jest, but you WILL speak the truth..." "Huh. You make me sound like a saint-- I'm not even a Doctor !" "You're not ?" Monty seemed surprised, "I'd thought..." "I'm a Medical Technician, with a raft of cross-training. My parents were doctors, my brother, both sisters, an aunt and two uncles are doctors or surgeons. I did one year of Biochemistry.." "Oh ?" Frank puzzled, "What happened ?" "Mum needed nursing. I took a gap year, never went back..." "Do you regret it ?" Monty wondered. "Sometimes... HotZones are Hell: I've triaged more people than I care to remember--" "But you have saved thousands--" "By leaving more to die." I hissed, "Don't soften it." "I-- I would not dare." Monty shuddered. "Nor I..." Frank shook his head, "And I thought I carried many ghosts..." "So why do you do it ?" "Monty, I don't have much choice. Attrition on new HotZoners is grim: after that, your chances improve..." I chuckled, "Mind you, I didn't apply for the job ! I was the wrong side of a secondary air-lock when the Level 3 alarm went, was stuck there. I knew the basics, learned fast." "You lived." Frank nodded, "So they kept you ?" "I'd done the hard part... Had to swot the courses, but those were easy after three rounds with The Grim Reaper." I raised my half-glass of juice, "Mud In His Eye !" That was something Vampires could sincerely toast, "Mud In His Eye !" Pete had been lurking, took that opportunity to approach, "Elders ?" "Speak, Nephew." Frank allowed. "Elders, Chris travelling as Brendan, the guest-room is ready." Frank looked to Monty, "Your plans for Chris ?" "Junior school-room Q&A before the rumours fly. Lunch. Senior students' session." "Open Door ?" "If you like, Frank." Monty offered, "Any rules ?" "Keep it clean." I spoke first, "Don't press me for details of Rogue hunting." Frank and Monty looked at each other, nodded agreement. "Chris, Monty, I must wonder if your madcap scheme may work after all ! " Frank grinned, "Now, please, I must reflect at length on what we have discussed..." "And I have Accounts Due to render..." Monty grumbled. We stood. "Thanks for an interesting meal." I nodded to both. "This is but 'Vittles' !" Monty waved, "We feast at New Moon ! Okay, young Pete, would you show Chris to his room ?" After the ordinary dining room, my basic 'Motel' room was no surprise. Double bed with duvet, en-suite, kettle, wardrobes, hanging spaces and drawers all belonged. Underground, the air-conditioning was essential. My shopping bag waited on the bed-side table, beneath a reading light. Pete opened a built-in wardrobe, lifted out a hangar, "School uniform is Lederhosen. Matching suede smalls. I had to guess at your size." "Er, thanks..." "Some shirt-waister tunics for later, and two sleeping-shirts." He chuckled, "Though what you'd want with those..." I shrugged, "In case I need to wake running ?" "Ah...?" Pete grinned, "And a selection of sleeping arrangements-" A 'corner wardrobe' opened on three close-stacked tube-beds' pillows. The 'window' shutters hid a deeply recessed bed-shelf with futon pad, "But, if you really want 'Traditional'--" Pete lifted the spring-hinged sofa seat to show an archetypal, half-couch oak casket lined with white satin... When I got my mouth shut, I had to say, "D'you know ? I might try it !" "Over-rated." Pete allowed, "Stuffy. But snug..." "I've woken in a body-bag." I shrugged, "At least this is clean..." "How-- D'uh... Oh, okay... Um, d'you mind a question or two ?" "You heard the rules..." "Did you mean to 'mousetrap' Elder Frank ?" "No." "Could you have taken him down ?" "There and then ? Not likely !" I retorted, "Nor in a fair fight." "We-- We did not believe you would come unarmed and helpless..." "Was there another way ?" Pete thought about it, shook his head, "No... No, there was not." I shrugged, "Don't be offended if my trigger finger twitches a bit, though." "Do you play video games ?" "Some..." "We have '29 Days' networked--" "Wow ! That old 'Humans vs Vampires vs Zombies' classic ?" I laughed, "After Amnesty came in, it was withdrawn-- And you play it ?" "Oh, yes !" Pete chuckled, "After all, we know Zombies don't exist--" He caught my look, "Don't they ?" "I've dealt with some odd diseases, but no genuine Zombies..." I winked, "Not yet, mind ! Hmm, I'm a bit rusty, but..." "Deal ! Might take a few days to set up..." "Okay." I nodded, "And today ? I need to --er-- wash and dress." "Yes, yes, of course. Half an hour ?" "Sure !" "You'll knock gently ?" "Ohhh, yes !" Pete nodded, "After your little discussion with Elder Frank, everyone I've met has said something like, 'Don't Startle The Rogue Bane !' " "Thank you. Half an hour, then." I'd need the time. First priority was to shed the Pharaonic loin-cloth, stagger into the wash-room and aim my valve. After the easy part, I reached down, released the bottom end of my zip, got my back-side out. While nature took its course, I reflected that I should have packed that tub of baby cream. Oh, well, the locals could find me some cream, plus a large bottle of hypo-allergenic body-wash. Relieved, I cleaned myself, then used a wet towel-end to mop some itches. After zipping up, I took a long, long shower to shift my body-glove's pore salt. Again, the blow-dry feature saved me wrestling with a towel... I chuckled: Our strategy team had devised a plan to 'invent' specials, available only from SOTM. Their bar-code numbers would riccochet through the national pharmacy database and flag the order. I turned that down flat. At the very least, it would show 'bad faith'. Also, there were too many ways to go wrong... I turned on the reading light and took a better look at my 'school' clothes. A plain T-shirt, suede briefs and saddle- stitched, metal-free Lederhosen ? Granted, they'd withstand childish enthusiasm, granted they'd be very hard wearing. I shook my head. I preferred denim, Rohan airweights or an environmental suit. When in Rome, however... Fortunately, Pete was a good guesser. The outfit fitted well, looked less absurd than I expected. Compared to 'Brendan', it moved better, too. I turned off the reading light, sat to let my eyes adjust. When the knock came at my door, I was pleased to see Pete had a matching outfit...
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Nik aka Speaker To Cats	Project Lorraine Chapter #7: A Winter's Tale...	#11	[url]	[-]
Posts: 142 08/01/06 11:58:40	Project Lorraine Chapter #7: A Winter's Tale. "We're early: I'll take you the scenic route." Pete led me into the the Nest's dim maze of un-marked doors and oft-crooked passages. I noted different styles of masonry, plus some modern brick-work, shuttered concrete and RSJ lintels. "Core looks like a Medieval under-croft..." I commented. "We think parts are older..." Pete allowed, "Chronicles mention finding the skull of a cave-bear..." "Makes sense." I nodded, "I'd guess the original builders broke through into natural caves. Alignments keep shifting between orthogonal and the natural faulting." "Does that tell you where you are ?" I thought about it, "No more than the van-ride did. Even if some-one twisted my arm, I could only estimate within a dozen miles." "Good." Pete nodded, "We'd notice a search." "Okay..." I grinned, plucking my leather braces, "So why Lederhosen ?" "Good question !" Pete laughed, "The Nest's first real Teacher was half-Austrian. She went with what she knew. It wears well. It has pockets, a pouch. And, it has hand-holds-- Our Little Folk are slippery as eels, quick as Imps--" "Imps ?" "Figure of speech..." Pete sighed, "We have old stories, but no proof..." "Ah. Pete, you seem comfortable in 'School Uniform'. Are you so young ?" "Nooo..." Pete grinned, "They are our Romper suits, too ! No other material will endure such rough play ! It also says 'Off Duty'." "One HomoSap expression is, 'Let Your Hair Down'." I chuckled, "Another is, 'School's Out' ! Hmm, are we nearly there yet ?" "Couple more turns..." The next door was not wood. An old, oval steel sea-door set in a rough concrete bulkhead, it had heavy 'dogs' and a porthole with its permanent deadlight clamped shut. Pete tapped the bulkhead's twin float-gauges, glanced into their drip-catcher, an incongruous yellow plastic bucket, "Dry." He turned the switch on a high-mounted junction box, opened the porthole's cover, peered through the heavy glass, "And low water... Safe to un-dog." The heavy door opened on a small cave, lit by two bulkhead lamps. Cool, moist air drifted from a deep gulley, small stalagtites hung in a corner, flow-stone smoothed the bedding-plane. "Oh, pretty !" I smiled, glancing about, "Cave fish, too ?" "Sometimes." Pete nodded, "Storms wash them out. And that's the reason I've brought you here." "Er, I don't have much caving experience..." "No need." Pete shook his head, "Fully mapped... But, see the depth gauge ?" I'd given the clearly marked pole a glance. It was clamped between floor and ceiling, had stains around its ankles, "Uh-huh ?" "Behind it ?" "Ah !" Small, arrowed plaques were spiked to the stone. Several were modern. One, remarkably close to the roof, was almost lost to tarnish. It was certainly older than the wall and door, "Wow ! A 'Century Flood' ? There'd be a fair hydraulic head on that-- And if cave syphons fill, you'd get over-pressure, too." "They did." Pete nodded, "The Old Watergate failed." "Bad..." I whispered, "Very bad..." "The way the Chronicles tell it, the Nest was waist-deep for two days. A dozen drowned. Many were badly injured, most were sick. Much food was spoiled, stocks were halved. They lost their Trustees to the chill--" "Hypothermia." I nodded, "I'm surprised anyone survived..." "But the local village was hit worse. The river burst its bank, washed three cottages away, wrecked others. Cattle drowned in their byres, harvests failed, root-crops rotted. Unseasonal frosts killed the higher plantings..." Pete shivered, "The Summer wasn't, and Winter came early. They would surely freeze or starve..." I'd been peering at the plaque, had made out the leading 1, an 8, another 1, and, "Of course ! 'Eighteen Hundred and Starved To Death' !! 1816, the 'Year Without A Summer' !! Volcano, volcano-- Tambora ! Erupted 1815, but took six months to veil the planet... Krakatoa was a loud hiccup by comparison." "The Moon was tainted, the very air was fouled." Pete nodded grimly, "But an Elder remembered another time-- and mistakes made. Unless the Nest acted, the local community would perish. Without them, the Nest must move..." "You could warn them of a Wolf-winter--" I shook my head, "They had nothing ! What could they do ?" "The Nest made a dreadful decision: They must twice break with tradition." Pete stated, "The Acting NestMaster sent a message to the village Elders. He offered to share our food and shelter in return for their silence and lawful help..." "Clever." I nodded, "Even now, Vampirism --per se-- is not unlawful. Which is why SOTM handle it..." "Yes. They must have thought he was a Frenchy, smuggler or Radical, but that 'lawful' provision was the hook. They swore." "They must have had a shock when they saw the truth !!" "I dare say they did ! The Chronicles are, uh, vague on the detail. But the villagers needed food and shelter, no less than the Nest needed the village... " Pete shrugged, "Well, they kept their word. Nest and villagers alike went hungry. All suffered from the cold. None starved, few died. The villagers rebuilt. The Nest endured." "And as for blood-letting--" I chuckled, "Chirurgeons and Barbers did that anyway ! Hence Monty's oath ?" "I'm told so..." Pete nodded, "But the Nest's second step set them apart from all others: This Nest and daughter Nests begat from here would not Bend their HomoSap helpers. Instead, we are BloodKin." I had to think through the implications, "So Frank is not of this Nest ?" "Elder Frank is from a very traditional Nest." Pete grinned, "He was invited to discuss, plan and observe the experiment. Us Progressive Youngsters have been a trial unto him..." "And then I arrived..." I suppressed a giggle, "I reckon he's had his money's worth !! Okay, I'll give you a hand with this door..."
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Nik aka Speaker To Cats	If you were a young Vampire...	#12	[url]	[-]
Posts: 142 08/02/06 10:19:28	If you were a well-brought-up young Vampire meeting a genuine 'Free' HomoSap for the first time --socially-- what would you talk about ??
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The Rock Doctor	Re: If you were a young Vampire...	#13	[url]	[-]
Posts: 14 08/02/06 18:24:28	If I were a young, well-heeled vamp, I'd probably start off with the same mundane questions you'd get between two guys stuck in an elevator, with the conversation taking off on some point of strong mutual interest or strong difference of opinion: "Where ya from - what's that like?" "Married? Kids?" "So what do you/your people think of us?" "What do you do for recreation?" "What do you do for a living?"
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Nik aka Speaker To Cats	Project Lorraine Chapter #8: Children's Hour.	#14	[url]	[-]
Posts: 142 08/05/06 16:24:58	Project Lorraine Chapter #8: Children's Hour. Pete led me back a different way. I did not try to keep track, there was no point. In their position, I would add blanking panels and blind doors, move them around at whim... We stepped down into a wider corridor, passed a dozen newly anonymous doors. The next was still labelled 'Kindergarten' in an old, Gothic script. Pete knocked gently, waited. After a minute, the door was opened by another Gollum cousin in Lederhosen. Off-Season, it is hard to sex Vampires, but the lower shoulder / hip ratio told me Female. Her voice was slightly softer, too, "Hi, Pete ! Chris ?! Come in !" The cross-vaulted space was a similar size to their 'club' or 'diner', but laid out as a school-room. It was an odd mix of styles. Walls were covered by modern posters, black-boards, white-boards, clip-boards and art-work. At the far end, tiered Victorian desks faced a high Teachers' Table. By the door, tables carried a variety of PCs with hardened keyboards and industrial track-balls. Between, assorted tables, desks, chairs, sand-trays, toys, buckets and bowls distracted a cheerful mob of mini-Vampires. Two Gollum cousins kept a minimal order, an Elder in a long, black robe spoke with another. "Ma'am ?" Our guide spoke politely, but loud enough to carry. The Elder's head came up, she nodded, clapped her hands twice. Silence fell, the young heads swivelled towards Ma'am, "Our guest has arrived: Please take your seats !" They glanced around at us, downed their toys without complaint, stood and trooped to their places. Ma'am looked me over, met us part-way, "Greetings, Chris, BloodKin of Montague, I am Elder Vine. Your visit does us great honour !" Didn't take a genius to formulate my reply, "Thank you, Ma'am, it is my honour to be invited. How may I help ?" "Would you say a few words to our young folk, then take questions ?" "I'd be delighted !" I'd rather take on a rabid Rogue, I'd rather be in Philadelphia, but I glanced to Pete, "May Pete stay ?" Ma'am glanced to him, he nodded minutely, "Certainly ! Pete, please sit with my Assistants... Chris ?" I followed her to the Teachers' Table, stood while she spoke, "Children, Chris is the HomoSap Exchange Student we discussed. Chris will say a few words, then take questions. He is our honoured guest, so speak as you would to me." "Thank you, Ma'am." I took a long breath, "Hello and good evening to you. My name is Chris. I am a young Medical Technician at the School of Tropical Medicine. My specialty is HomoVamp metabolism. I also do field-work in HotZones, to prevent disease outbreaks becoming epidemics or worse. I was involved in that recent incident in Africa. I was very ill, but I survived..." I paused. Twenty-one mini-Vampires stared at me with open-mouthed fascination. They came as hairless, albino, red-eyed triplets, quads or quins, were dressed identically. I could not tell them apart except by size, with the older and larger sat towards the back. My bemused wits tagged them 'The Family Von Adams', let my mouth work again. "Your Nest calls me RogueBane. That was a big surprise and a great honour. As yet I know too little of your ways to do this well. I hope to learn more by helping you understand my people... If I do not know how to answer a question, I will say so. If it is properly an Elder's question, I will answer as best I can. If Ma'am does not want me to answer a question, I'll pass to another." Heads nodded. After a few moments' whispering, a forest of small, nub-taloned hands rose. Ma'am pointed to the back row. "G-- Greetings, Chris, I am Mary. If you are S-- HomoSap, why do you look so like us ?" "Greetings, Mary ! I am wearing a body-glove disguise to help me look, feel and move like a HomoVamp. I hope I still smell like a HomoSap ??" That got giggles, and "Thank you !" "Greetings, Chris. I am Oscar. How is it that you can DayWalk ?" "Greetings, Oscar ! That is a hard question to answer quickly... You know HomoVamps have Porphyria, a problem with their blood ? One side-effect is it makes them very sensitive to the UV-A and UV-B in sunlight. Some HomoSaps have a similar Porphyria, They must avoid sunlight, too. Hmm, you know HomoSap skin colour varies from near-black through browns to near-white ? That is due to our skin Melanin, a brown material that blocks sun-light. My natural colur is close to that pale desk, but I tan to this dark table. Even so, I must use sun-block cream, sun-glasses and a wide hat if the sun-light is strong. Only HomoSaps with naturally dark skin are true DayWalkers." "Thank you !" "Greetings, Chris, I am David. Are you really a Singleton Birth ?" "Greetings, David, yes. One of my cousins has twin sons. As they do not 'run' in either family, the odds were about four per thousand. Single births are usual." "Were you lonely ?" "No. We were a close family. I have three elder sibs --brother and two sisters-- each separated by several years. Neighbours and cousins had children near my age. Our old cat slept on my head... But a special bond between HomoSap multiples is common." "Thank you !" "Greetings, Chris, I am Suzanne: Can you really do it all the time ?" All too human sniggers ran around. Ma'am scowled. Pete and the Assistants held their breath. 'Precocious Child !!' I warned myself, chose my words carefully, "Greetings, Suzanne ! Can, yes. May, no." I'd never known a Vampire blush, but she managed it. I added, "As I understand it, HomoVamp females have a 'Season' about twice a year. They develop pink curves and may call for a mate. HomoSap females have a smaller season every month and curves all the time. Their cues are subtle, more social than overt: dress more attractively, wear bolder lip-stick, perhaps use a different perfume." "T-- Thank you !" "You're welcome !" I smiled. "Greetings, Chris, I am Graham. What is it like to swim in the Sea ?" "Greetings, Graham ! In my opinion, sea-bathing is over-rated. The water is salty, so you float higher. But, below any warm surface layer, the sea is deadly cold. It will suck the heat from your unprotected body in a very short time. Also, sea-water is too salty for us to drink freely. It is a soup of life, ranging from nano-viruses to the size of your net, and may contain many toxins. You must watch for spiny fish, stinging jellies and toothy predators. There are waves and under-currents, rocks and mud. A storm at sea is a Primal experience, with howling winds and wave-crests blown to spray. Rogue-waves thrice the height of this room may strike from an unexpected direction." "Wow ! Thank you !" "Greetings, Chris, I am Michelle. Do you drive ?" "Greetings, Michelle ! Yes, I do drive. I have a modest Astra Estate with a tow-bar, and I can start and drive almost anything short of a racing car or Abrahms Tank. Neither fast nor well, mind, but mobile. I've been taught how to ford rivers, cross sand and such..." "Thank you !" "Greetings, Chris, I am Maria. Do you have a pet ?" "Greetings, Maria ! My life is too uncertain for a pet of my own, so I share the neighbours' cats." "What are they like ?" "Well, 'Fluffy' is a long-haired tabby, 'Suki' is Seal-point Siamese and 'Kiwi' is a big, black Hunter. They have distinct 'Purrsonalities'. They seem to know when I'm due back from a HotZone, and will wait on my step to greet me." "Thank You !" "Greetings, Chris, I am Ronald. Which football team do you support ?" "Greetings, Ronald ! I don't have time. But, if I did, Liverpool, of course !" That got a chuckle, "Thank you !" "Greeting, Chris, I am Ze. Do you watch 'Buffy: Rogue Slayer' ?" "Greetings, Ze, yes I do. It is so unreal, it makes me laugh. And, after a hard day, that is better for my waistline than a six-pack or a box of chocolates." "Thank you !" From the nods exchanged, that seemed to settle a wager. "Greetings, Chris, I am Jerome. Are you a Slayer ?" "Greetings, Jerome ! No, I am NOT a Slayer. I do not have the reflexes. I do not have the killer instinct. I'm just a nice bloke with a knack for flushing Rogues..." "Do you know any Slayers ?" "I've met L.C.--" That drew a gasp, "-- at a conference. And, yes, she scared me, too." "What did you talk about ?" "I asked her for her autograph... " It still hurt, "She looked at me, read my badge, muttered something about expecting some-one taller, shook her head then strode away." They laughed. "L.C. is a Slayer-- One look tells you that. She moves like a Big Cat. Ambidextrous, she can kill with bare hands or feet. She's a wicked knife-fighter. She's a lethal shot. And she does not take prisoners-- She can't help it, Slayers leave a trail of bodies..." That drew a mutual shudder. "I do not work like that. Although I have killed 14 Rogues to her 20, another dozen took my offer of Amnesty, and I've captured five who refused. Three of those 5 survived their injuries." "Ooh ! Does she really have those nice legs ?" "And the rest !" I nodded, "Talk about social cues !! Hers' scream AlphaPlus Female..." "Wow !!" "I did get her autographed photo: I queued and paid my 5 UKP. She didn't recognise me without the badge..." That earned a chuckle. "Thank you !" "One more question before lunch ?" Ma'am allowed, "Yes ?" "Greetings, Chris, I am Bertram. If you fought L.C., who would win ?" "Greetings, Bertram ! That is a hard question, but it has an answer: In any fair fight, L.C. of course, of course. Given choice of weapons, me." That prompted some thoughtful mutterings, "Wh-- How-- Er, can you say why ?" "We played 'Scissors, Paper, Rock' in the Conference bar." I stated, "It began as a harmless joke, but she lost 2/3, 3/5 then 6/10. I joked I wasn't dangerous enough to trigger her Slayer reflexes, and we laughed it off. Her eyes weren't laughing, though. To lose at anything was anathema, to be trounced by a skinny Nerd was humiliating. Irony is I didn't beat her, she beat herself. If she'd ever read Poe or Doyle, she might have understood..." Bertram gulped, "Thank you !!" Ma'am nodded, clapped her hands twice, "Time for lunch ! Remember, walk, don't run in the corridors !" They skipped the obstacles, slowed for the doorway, poured left into the corridor. Their voices rose as they went, so we could hear them to a surprising distance. "Well !" Ma'am seemed almost as bemused as her young students, "That was an interesting discussion !" She'd surely used 'interesting' in the sense of the old Chinese curse, and I wished her well. Judging by Pete and the Assistants' expressions, they'd be doing some hasty research, too. "Well ! Thank you, Chris, BloodKin of Montague ! You are here for some days ? Perhaps we can talk some more ?" "I would be delighted, Ma'am ! Thank you for inviting me. I've learned a lot, today." "I dare say..." She allowed, "I have heard of the incident with Elder Frank: Did you mean to 'mousetrap' him ?" "Pete also asked me. No. I am not that brave or that clever. He trapped himself." "He is not foolish. He was blinded by his ghosts." "I understand, I think..." I hesitated, "No, I don't. Not really. I lack his referents. I just hope sorrow does not turn him Rogue." "This has been a difficult era: mistakes were made, and Elder Frank shares responsibility for some terrible blunders. With hindsight, there was no good choice to be found. Yet, he survived against all odds, though many did not..." "The Curse of Self-Doubt." I sighed, "The most terrible part of HotZone triage is that if you hesitate, the time wasted by your indecision will let other victims slip across the uncertain line from possible rescue to probable death. We do run later sweeps; just as some whom we thought would live just die, others left to die yet cling to life. One benefit of working to exhaustion is that faces and cases blur..." "You are wise beyond your years." "Or cynical !" I shrugged, "But, interesting times !!"
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Nik aka Speaker To Cats	Project Lorraine #9: Dinner-Ladies.	#15	[url]	[-]
Posts: 142 08/10/06 14:10:32	Project Lorraine chapter #9: Dinner-Ladies. Pete led me to the canteen, where the Family Von Adams had almost sated their appetites. We got greetings and cheerful waves, but they finished their desserts and drained their juices, trooped off without comment. "They're off to the BatCave." Pete grinned, "Jungle Gym with a safety net at the bottom. Wonderful fun !! Just the thing to settle lunch !" "Pass..." I muttered, "I'm no Aerialist." "Oh. Ahhh! The Pasta-shells and Chicken Bake smells nice today..." "Suits me." I nodded to the smartly tabarded server, "Small portion, please." "A Double." Pete ordered his, "With some of those Spare Ribs on the side..." "And Tomato juice, please." "Same again." Pete scooped a couple of bread rolls off the stack, headed for a table. Other diners glanced in our direction, but were unconcerned. "How does the staffing work ?" I wondered. "Rota basis, like most of the Nest's tasks. Premiums on skill, difficulty or unpleasantness, but there's a complex system of values and trade-offs..." "Sounds like a Mature Bourse." I offered, "This pasta is really nice. Um, plenty of garlic in it, too..." "Oh, yes !" Pete grinned, "Garlic, pepper, onion, other sharp spices-- they certainly add some Zing to the taste !" "So what happened to Vamps shunning garlic ?" "Nosegays." "D'uh ?" I paused mid-fork, "Those scented things Medieval people wore to hide the stink ?" "Yes, but they also masked their own odours. Sweat and dirt, okay, but diseases, too. A snack on a sick peasant could be your last..." "Interesting..." "Your Caduceus just lit..." Pete observed. "Perhaps a different slant on Medieval disease profiles and demographics... I'd need to research it at SOTM." I shrugged, "How do we play this after-lunch session ?" Pete paused between crunching ribs like celery-sticks, "We'll need a bigger room than the Senior's." "Oh ?" "You lit off the Little Monsters, which primed the grapevine. The Elder and her Assistants will tell a dozen others each, and anyone who hasn't urgent business else-where will show up, if only from curiousity. Chris, even some of us Youngsters are unhappy about a wild HomoSap in the Nest, BloodKin or not..." "I'll remember to duck." I nodded, trapped and ate the last of my pasta shells, downed my juice, "Do I need to go back to my room to find a toilet ?" "Hygeine rules: They're handy. I just hope the signs are still attached..." With his last rib gone, he prepared to attack the pasta, "Left out the door, look on your right. Be long ?" "Not sure..." "Okay, if I'm gone, wait here and I'll come find you." "Thanks, Pete." The facilities were where he'd said, and still had their signs. I'd done my best to anticipate the Nest's nocturnal world, but my digestion had not caught up with light meals and an erratic fluid intake. I went through the process of valving my catheter, then unzipped my body-glove's posterior and settled down. Took a while, took longer than I'd expected, couldn't be rushed... Much relieved, I cleaned up and wandered back to the emptying canteen. Pete had left, as had most of the later wave of diners. The half-dozen staff had closed the counters, sat to their own meals. "Please, sit with us ?" They called. "Hi !" I sat, "I'm--" "Oh, we know !" "You're Chris ! I'm Sue. Lara, Mari, Annabelle, Mary, Joey the Chef." "You're our HomoSap RogueBane !" "And you put that nasty Elder Frank in his place!" "He didn't like my food..." Joey grumbled, "Over-cooked, under-cooked, too spicy-- Hey, this is Fast Food, not Cordon Bleu !" "Fine by me!" I stated, "In fact, your food is better than SOTM's !" "There !" "Told you so !" "Your disguise is really good: Is it comfy ?" "Snug." I allowed, "FX workshop took body-scans and alginate casts. They call it a body-glove." "May I touch ?" "Sure. It's Goretex 'Second Skin' plus tweaks. I'd guess at a tattoo process." "Oooh... Mary ! Feel these muscles ! You'd think they're real !" "Eek!" I squeaked, "Those are !" They laughed, then patted, poked and groped my face, arms and legs. "Say AAAH !" "Aaah ?" "See how they're different at the back ?" "Wow, that's clever !" "What do your own look like ?" "Um, may I have a hand back ?" They giggled. I eased out my top prosthetics, licked my lips, grinned, "Cheese!" "Hey, nice teeth !" "Mum made you brush them twice a day ?" "And after lunch." I admitted, "Sisters made sure." They laughed, "Gosh, how your voice has changed--" "Hang on--" I replaced my fangs, settled them, "How's that ?" "That's better !" Lara chuckled, "Now you sound normal !" "It is a wonderful disguise." Joey allowed, "You've gone to a lot of trouble... Um, if it isn't an indelicate subject ? You were gone a long time..." "Catheter at the front, double-ended micro-zip at the back. Not conducive to haste." "Wow !" Sue, my neighbour, was fiddling with my left hand, "Is it a glove ? No, your talons are firm..." "More 'Second Skin'." I nodded, "But those talon nubs are bonded to my nails-- Hey! Go easy !" Sue stopped prising, dropped my hand, "Sorry !" "Ouch !" I waggled my fingers, "Ouch ! My HomoSap nail-beds don't tie to the bone as well as yours." "Ooh, didn't know that !" "And our nails don't shed sheaths, they just grow. Need clipping..." "Ah !" "That explains-" "Like HomoSap face-hair grows ?" Joey wondered, "Must be horrible..." "Just part of the HomoSap condition." I shrugged, "Secondary male attribute, face-hair sprouts at puberty. Races and families have different sensitivities to hormones, some get tufts, others get bear-mats. Then head-hair changes. Brow-line recedes, you go grey, or bald or both. If you're very ill or over-stressed, it can all fall out. Just happened to me in Africa. Makes this costume tolerable but, for now, I'm as smooth as a piebald egg." They giggled. "Will it grow back ?" Joey wondered. "No idea. Perhaps when I replace my weight loss, perhaps in tufts, perhaps never. Can't say I'll miss shaving-- or stubble !!" "What do your people think of us ?" Annabelle asked. "Complicated..." I thought about it, "SOTM are okay. But SOTM was started for sick sea-farers. Often they'd show up with no common language, no money, no notion of our customs. 'Brotherhood of the Sea' transcends all that. The tradition continues. There's a standing joke: If 'Little Green Men' landed on Patrick Moore's lawn, he'd invite them in for tea and call SOTM." They laughed. "Beyond SOTM, it varies widely. A lot of people accept you for what you are. More are stuck with the old legends-- Living Dead, The Bite, Eternal Youth, creaking coffin-lids and the rest. Too many are hung up on your blood need: Rogues' atrocities don't help... Three major religions see you as the very embodiment of Evil. Those who don't call you Devils and cross themselves, well, they call you Afriit and run a mile. Most Rednecks reckon you're immigrants and/or varmints too, reach for their shot-gun. They're arguably better than the Lunatic Fringe... Some crave the blood, others the lust. Some still think you're lying, that you CAN make them Vampires so they may have Eternal Youth. The Hellfire Faction worship you, want to be your slaves. One weird bunch wants bizarre sex. Goths and Hyper-Goths just think you're Cool. Area_51 Society reckon you are really Grey Aliens, and Vampirism is just a cover-story invented by 'Men In Black'. They can't agree on who is conspiring or why, but they know The Truth Is Out There. Gollum Group is convinced that LOTR is 'Hidden History', and spend their time teasing meaning from its numerology... Worst of all are the VampAid activists. They want nothing more than to save you from yourselves. Some hold vigils and make worthy noises. Some are prepared to die trying. The only time I've seen a Rogue at a loss was when a VampAider slipped through our cordon. She stood there, exhorting him, quoting her tracts, telling him he was simply misunderstood. Happens she was looking the wrong way. He listened to her for several minutes, glanced over to me. I shrugged. He shrugged. 'Take the Amnesty.' I pleaded, 'Please ?' She looked around. I was crouched, HK levelled on nothing, talking to nothing. He dropped his Glamour. She screamed. 'Stupid girl !' He snarled at her, then Rushed me. I'd time to place my shots. Medics got a line in and he survived..." "Wow ! We watched you at Second Breakfast -- You can see through Glamour ?" "Seems so." I shrugged, "I don't understand it: SOTM tested my relatives, an Aunt and two cousins can do it, too. We don't know if it is our eyes or our brain, but only my eyes are green. It is not a common knack. We still haven't found a test for it other than--" I pointed around the table, "You, you and Joey." "Dear me !" Joey muttered, "I'd the best Glamour in my year !" "What do you see ?" Sue asked. "No secret. A weak shimmer high-lights Glamour." "So a Rogue's Glamour makes him easier to spot ?" "Usually. I'll meet his eyes --Why always Rogue Males ?-- and, if I've time, I'll offer Amnesty again. About half see sense..." "You don't know how you see through Glamour..." Mari puzzled, "Do you know how Glamour works ?" "Vaguely: Ever put down a knife, biro, note, keys, then forgot where ? So easy ! And, so maddening ! You can search everywhere twice, then some-one glances over and points at it, lying there in plain sight... Technically, Glamour induces a mild Fugue state in susceptible observers. Our Psychologist calls it, 'Purloined Letter Syndrome', after Poe. Others prefer, 'Blind Spot Effect'. Wags quote 'Hitch-Hikers', which tagged it 'Some-one Else's Problem'... Hi, Pete !" "D'uh, how do you do that ?" "One benefit of being a Prey species: better peripheral vision !" "Can't argue with that !" He grinned, "Heard you talking, sounds like you're having fun already !" We nodded. "Well, I've run into a snag... " Pete turned to Joey, "We've pulled a good crowd. The bigger room's too small. May we hold the meeting here ?" "Hmm: Don't see why not..." Joey glanced to his Assistants, who nodded, "Saves us changing twice... And if you can give us a hand clearing tables, we'll get another wash-cycle on..." "Let me help." I offered, "Pete's on 'Crowd Control'." "But you're a Guest !" "Saves you the clean-up before an 'Official Tour', and the clean-down after." "Ah..." Joey grinned, "Okay, Chris, you're a Temporary Assistant Table-Clearer ! Sue, find him a spare tabard and hat, then set him to work !"
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Nik aka Speaker To Cats	Project Lorraine Chapter #10: Point of Order.	#16	[url]	[-]
Posts: 142 08/11/06 17:37:08	Project Lorraine Chapter #10: Point of order. As I helped shuttle laden trays to the wash-up area, the canteen steadily filled. Pete led a nimble team stacking empty tables and un-stacking spare chairs, looked relieved when the numbers steadied. He left a table and three chairs at the front of the room. Monty and Frank took the outer pair. Logically, the third was for me. Joey chuckled as I went in with a last load of dessert bowls, "You are fast on your feet for a HomoSap !" "Lab work." I shrugged, "Plus Nurse training. Paintball helps, too !" "Well, there's a job here if you need one." "If this goes wrong, I may need it !" I made the standard quip, "May I have a water-jug and three glasses ?" "Sure, I'll bring it." Sue offered "No thanks, I can take it..." "No, my pleasure !" "I hate entrances..." I grinned, "I may not have Glamour, but this tabard should do." "Wicked !" Sue put a hand to her mouth as the others giggled. "I'm always saying we're ignored !" Joey chuckled, "I'm going to enjoy this !" I bustled out to the top table, set the jug and glasses down smoothly, stepped away. "Thank you !" Monty nodded absently, then sniffed, glanced around in confusion. "Young Pete said Chris would be here--" Frank began, looked across at Monty's expression, "What is... ??" I popped the tabard's shoulder tab, dropping the garment sideways into my elbow's crook. Doffing my hat, I turned and sat in one motion, "Sorry I'm late." Frank and Monty gaped at me in unison. Pete, on the front row, was stifling chuckles. The rest of the crowd just stared in sudden, silent astonishment. I took a long breath, spoke up, "Hello and good evening to you. My name is Chris. I am a young Medical Technician at the School of Tropical Medicine. My specialty is HomoVamp metabolism. I also do field-work in HotZones, to prevent disease outbreaks becoming epidemics or worse. I was involved in that recent incident in Africa. I was very ill, but I survived..." I paused. I wasn't good at estimating crowds, the light was dim, there were some standing along the walls and serving counters. I'd ask Pete, but a hundred was probably close. Add a creche, the Juniors, their minders, support staff-- I didn't realise there were so many Vampires in this area !! "Your Nest calls me RogueBane. That was a big surprise and a great honour. As yet I know too little of your ways to do this well. I hope to learn more by helping you understand my people... " I gestured right and left, "I'll first thank Monty, Frank and the Nest for inviting me to speak... "These are strange times. The problems are unprecedented. The decisions are difficult. The answers may be terrible. It has taken great imagination, courage and determination to bring me, a 'wild' HomoSap, into this Nest. I am sworn BloodKin with Montague, but I am also an un-Bent, hence essentially perfidious Sap with a proven knack for killing Rogues. Yet I am here as an honoured Guest... "The agreement with Monty was that you would respect my digestion and ethics. Period. He told me almost nothing about Nest life, and I made a point of not asking. I researched the uncertain information available to SOTM, made what preparations I could. So far, I have been hilariously wrong. I don't mind ! For one thing, it shows our best information was indeed wrong. For another, it confirms this exchange was necessary... "I am a HotZoner. We rush to places where, as our grim Toast puts it, 'Angels Fear To Tread'. We do our utmost. We work until we drop. We may succeed, we may fail, we may die in the attempt. Later, the authorities make fancy speeches, but we're usually too weary to listen. It's the ordinary people whose thanks we value. They have lost family, friends, colleagues to the illness we've just fought or the chaos around us. Some will have seen us triage their own kin as beyond hope. Yet they thank us. And they thank the Blue Helmets, the UN Contingents who strive to keep order, to convoy supplies, to hold the quarantine, to create an oasis of comparative calm for us to work, to bury the many dead and who, more than us, often die in the attempt. "I thank you thus." Heads nodded. After a few moments, I went on, "If I do not know how to answer a question, I will say so. If it is properly an Elder's question, I will answer as best I can. If I would break confidence to answer a question, I'll say so and take another. If my reply requires clarification or opens another question, I'll try to answer that. At the Junior session, questioners gave their names. There are many more here, it slows the session so, please, no names. As Monty and Frank represent such differing opinions, I'll ask them to take turns selecting questions. So, as another Guest of this Nest, may I ask Frank to begin ?" "Strange times, indeed !" Frank growled, "If you do not mind, I will indulge my curiosity..." I shrugged, "Ask away !" "Are you married ?" "No." Monty chuckled, "How can I do other-wise ? Do you have children ?" "No." "Can you have children ?" "Yes." "Will you have children ?" "Don't know." Frank pointed into the crowd. "Are you Gay ?" "No." Monty chuckled, pointed. "Do you have any tattoos ?" "Yes. Blood-group and basic cross-types under both arms, three small daisies. One's the target for any lumbar puncture, the others are over my pelvic ports." "What are pelvic ports ?" "We're all walking stem-cell factories. Ports mean we can harvest marrow without drilling bone. Saves time, saves trouble, saves lives. Still hurts to shove in that ruddy great syringe..." "Do you support stem-cell research ?" "Yes." "Why ?" "Couple of reasons. We transplant marrow, but don't really understand it. Like Aspirin, it looks simple, isn't... And anti-serum: once we used horses, now we make it in bottles of stem-cells. Well, usually ! In emergency, HotZoners will do. Also, basic research. Cultures study everything from ageing to cancer. Already given us ways to patch a few genetic diseases, more to come..." "Could gene-therapy fix our Porphyria ??" "I don't know. Your distant ancestors were DayWalkers. Like the Cheetah, HomoVamp populations bottle-necked in pre-history. Somehow, your Porphyria mutation was locked in. Might have been a NightHunter sub-species, but they survived and the DayWalkers didn't." "When do you think that happened ?" "Based on limited data, genetic drift suggests 2500~~3000 BC. There's some hints in Greek Legend. Their Harpies could have been a creche of DayWalkers: Table manners fit !!" That got chuckles. "What do you think of the political situation in the Middle East ?" "As always, DIRE. Next ?" "Are you a Virgin ?" "No. Does that spoil my flavour ? Or is it just Dragons ?" That got chuckles too, drew a more daring enquiry. "How old were you when you first... ?" "Mombassa, my second HotZone. Early cases and symptoms matched something worse, but it fizzled. Then we had a week's quarantine before the airport opened. A pretty Mdecins Sans Frontires (MSF) nurse fell out with her boy-friend, needed her itch scratching, grabbed me. Call it Beginner's Luck. I still get her postcards from picturesque places, always signed, 'Bon-Bon'." "Do you have a partner ?" "No." "Why no partner ?" "I'm a HotZoner. That is not a stable basis for a long-term relationship. Sure, some women throw themselves at men who go into harm's way, but they're not my type... " "Do you have a lover ?" "Yes." "What's her name ?" "Sorry, can't say." "How did you meet her ?" "Now there's a tale ! D'uh, I'd better change a couple of details..." I gave it some thought, "Okay, it began when a local woman --call her Desir-- got aggressive Leukaemia, needed a bone marrow transplant. Computer said I was best match. I went along to the clinic, had my pelvis tapped. Cells took. Soon she's walking around with a clone of my blood group and basic immune system... "Couple of months later, Desir tracked me down to say, 'Thank You'. No sweat, I explain, I'm a regular donor. We chat for a while. She's gym-fit, well educated, intelligent, good sense of humour, expensive clothes, speaks well, moves like a dancer. I gathered she was a business manager, but I couldn't figure where. Didn't matter. I'd probably never meet her again and, anyway, she was light-years out of my league... "Friday, Desir's back with a BIG bunch of roses. Very kind, but... Her eyes were wide, she was breathing fast, her skin was almost glowing, she kept moving into my space. Then she jumped me-- Mouth-to-mouth, hand down my pants. I managed to prise her loose without hurting her, said something polite about not rushing First Dates. She had a strange expression, shook herself, began apologising. No problem, I say, but unethical for donors to accept gifts, however nicely wrapped... " 'That wasn't it !' She explained, almost shyly. She's a Lesbian, she can't DO it with blokes --they smell wrong-- but she'd just had the Hots for me ! I commented that lust is a common reaction to reprieve. Then she said it was only MY smell turned her on, and hastily sat on her wandering hands. "Took us a while to figure why: We now had the same marrow. Immunologically, we're twins. She smells me, her 'Ding!' over-rides the 'Yuck!' of my being a bloke... "Weird ? Well, one of my colleagues later wrote us up for 'International Immunology', got it published, too... "By way of apology, Desir offered to take me out clubbing that weekend. 'Nothing too loud, wild or expensive.' I say, 'And only soft drinks for me.' 'Okay, dress casual, taxi at 8.' She says. Right on time, a taxi honked. I dived in, saw the passenger, leaped out faster, 'Oops, sorry, thought this was my ride--' 'Chris !' She called after me. I took another look, 'What the-- ? You said CASUAL ! Was the invite Fancy Dress Optional ? D'uh, but you do suit CatWoman...' "Taxi driver's suddenly busy with his money-clip. Desir's staring at me through her mask, 'Don't you know Demona's Den ?' 'Is it a PC game ?' 'Oh, no !' She chuckled, 'It's only the Hottest, Darkest, Wildest Set in town !' 'Sorry, I don't get out much...' I shook my head, 'And that dress-code's too rich for my taste.' She laughed, a liquid contralto, 'Honey, I AM Demona ! Let's party !!' "Her dedicated Denizens wore only scarlet or black latex and leather, eyed my beige Rohan Airweights with dismay. When Demona announced me as her Wicked Twin, they said, 'Yeah, right !' But, I was safe. Who'd dare mess with their Top Dom's ToyBoy? "Evening went well. Though most of the floor-show was too outr for my taste, I was handy when some-one needed a Heimlich Maneuver --don't ask what came back !! Later, I noticed a Hyper-Goth girl had fainted in a booth corner. Still, talk about culture shock: I even had to learn a different language ! Correct reply to 'What's your's ?' is not 'Diet Fanta With Ice'. Likewise, for 'What do you do?', 'Medical Technician' is wrong three ways... "I don't care for latex and leather --Present Company Excepted !-- so, after that first visit, Demona coaxed me into ninja-black cotton/Lycra. And we wear matching 'Scares' for each Halloween Bash..." "What's she like ??" "A Gentleman Never Tells... Suffice it to say there's no Kinky Rumpy-Pumpy." That got lots of chuckles, some sniggers and even a few guffaws. "How do you hunt Rogues ?" "Carefully. Very, very carefully..." "How did you get into Rogue hunting ?" "By accident. It was, yes, a year before Amnesty came in. I was doing 'Community Epidemiology'. Our SOTM team were going house-to-house, trying to find that poor district's Tri-Resistant Tuberculosis (TB3) Carrier. Problem was the transient migrant population were not co-operating... "Fair enough: I'm a stranger with a strange Official Badge, I knock on your door, ask personal questions about your family and friends. Who lives here ? Who is well ? Who is sick ? Who has travelled where ? What is their business ? Well, would you answer such questions for a 'Market Researcher' ?? "Some residents would not believe how fast TB3 could spread, so refused to help. Many were too scared of their neighbours. Others had secrets: expired permits, undeclared income, sub-let rooms, guns, drugs or worse. They could turn nasty. And, there were street gangs. We'd had attempted muggings, threats, demands for protection money, dogs set on us, 'bombs' dropped from upper floors... "Local hospital was getting a dozen full-blown TB3 cases a day. Our maps and math said there had to be more. Meanwhile, our Carrier, the invisible 'Case Zero', was still triggering new clusters. So, we had a 'Notifiable Disease Warrant' which allowed us to search. And, to make it stick, we were armed. 'Due Care' rule applied, we were limited to 'Reasonable Force'. No-one wanted mere civilians to carry 'Cannon', so we'd qualified for and been issued light-weight HK 46 hand-guns, with the tiny 4.6 x 30mm. Good news was the magazine held twenty of them, in steel not lead. They had remarkably low kick-back so you stayed on target, and they flew clean. Less publicised were their armour-piercing properties, and the disconcerting way you could group shots... "Well, the six of us worked a dozen sad streets, listed the places that would need follow-up or forced entry, checked some empty garages, came to a derelict mill-building. The ground-floor windows were bricked up, the entrances were supposed to be secure, but we found a door ajar. In our experience, as we went in the door, folk escaped down ropes from upper floors. So, we spread out to watch, called for backup. None was available without better reason. We had to go in. Happened to be my turn on point. Three stayed wide to watch the perimeter, one waited to guard the door. I called in 'Disease Search ! Disease Search ! Don't be alarmed !', listened for the usual commotion as Squatters, Druggies, Gangers and Bums scattered. Nothing happened. " 'That's weird.' I commented, 'So quiet... ' Phil, my Second shrugged, 'After you, Chris ?' So, in we slid, our little torch beams leading, both of us watching for accidental and deliberate traps, 'sharps' and rotten floors, hoping the dark did not hide crazed Druggies or psycho Gangers. Ground floor was clear. Phil guarded the foot of the weary concrete stairs as I crept up. I only needed one look in the shadows, 'What the-- Tango 3 0 from Tango 3 5. Four, no, five bodies on first floor near stairwell ! Full support required !' 'Tango Threes from Tango 3 0, Received call 3 5, Police and Medics despatched, ETA 5 !' " 'Phil, come up and watch my back.' He peered at the five bodies in their loose row, shook his head, crouched to guard the stair-head. I eased over to the nearest, left my mike open, 'Tango 3 0, they look like losers of a knife fight, perhaps torture, too. Multiple lacerations and puncture wounds. Too little blood on the floor here, I reckon they've been dumped... Okay, clockwise from stairs. First, very weak pulse. Second, dead-at-scene. Third, dead-at-scene. Fourth, weak pulse. Fifth, fair pulse... Hey ! You ! By the pillar ! Yes, you ! Stand clear ! Now, stop, put your hands up ! Stop ! Stop now ! Stay away from the stairs-- Phil, watch your left ! Phil !' " 'Chris, who are you calling ? There's no-one-- Aaagh!' 'Man down ! Stop now ! Stop or I shoot---' I put six into his torso. My seventh, point-blank to his face, left powder burns, pureed his brain. His Rush still knocked me down and stunned me, which is how the back-up team found us. "Phil had a dozen rib fractures, broken collar-bone and concussion, needed seventy stitches, all from one taloned swing. Our bullets were individually serialised so, given the open Comm's time-line and footprints in the muck, Forensics could replay the incident. Yes, I really had grouped six in that Rogue Vampire's torso. Yes, it was the seventh that stopped him, saved me, saved Phil. "And, yes, when I came around and realised what we had, I was nearly sick on the crime-scene. Some-one shoved an empty evidence bag in my face as a sick-bag. I filled that, sat down and cried. I'd triaged many, many hundreds, condemning the losers with clinical detachment. I'd had to turn off both my parents' life-support. I'd never before had to take a live life, damn some-one from 'quick' to 'dead'... "He was our Carrier, of course: Probably hit on the real 'Case Zero' at incubation stage, got a toxic bite. We never learned his name. DNA's on record, so a Nest may claim him eventually..." "Which was your hardest Rogue Hunt ?" "Nu. The next is hardest." "How can you hunt Rogues ? They're people, too !!" "Would you have them run wild ? And I'm no Slayer. I do not work like that. Check my record: Although I have killed 14 Rogues to L.C.'s 20, another dozen took my offer of Amnesty, and I've captured five who refused. Three of those five survived their injuries." "You've certainly had some adventures ! And weren't you kidnapped in--" "The Unquiet 'Stans ? Yes. Held for ransom. Blue Helmets tracked me down. I broke out in the confusion." "From a padlocked crate in a guarded cave ?" "They'd over-nailed and weakened it. Also, it was meant for some-one taller: I could brace myself." "That still left armed guards: One report said you killed them bare-handed..." "D'uh, I'm not Rambo. I used a chunk of rock on the first, smashed his skull. Took his AK. Shot the second. Threw his grenades at the rest. Blue Helmets cleaned up..." "How did the UN troops find you ?" "Intelligence, plus leg-work." "What sort of intelligence ?" "With many more villages than aid teams, some-one loaded the dice for their folk. There was a tip. Given that, SigInt found a clue." "Oh ? Any idea what ?" " 'The Dog That Barked In The Night'." "Sherlock Holmes ? But the dog didn't bark-- Ah ! Thank you !" "You keep quoting Poe and Conan Doyle: Doesn't it bother you they're all Dead White Male HomoSaps ?" "Their tales suit our times." I shrugged, "I'm sorry they're dead." She opened her mouth again-- "Would you prefer Mary Shelley or Georgette Heyer ?? And Rudyard Kipling's still worth a look. He understood the Human Condition better than most, had a wonderful way with words..." "How long do you expect to live ?" "Today, tonight, tomorrow, the next HotZone, three score and ten, a hundred at most... "Are you religious ?" "No." "Do you believe in Astrology ?" "No. Should I ?" Shaken heads... "Do you believe in a Soul or an AfterLife ?" "Not for me. Do you ?" Shaken heads... "Are you afraid of Death ?" "No. I've seen too much of it. And I've 'died' several times, been zapped back. But I am afraid of dying. Generally unpleasant, leaves a lot unfinished..." "One moment you're sensitive and caring, the next a hard-hearted bastard: Who are you ?" "Nu. Read Game Theory and weep..." "D'uh, you've done it again !" "Probably." I nodded, "Sorry." "Did you choose a career in medicine ?" "Oh, yes. But I went the long way around... When I was young, I just wanted to be a Doctor like Mum & Dad, my brother, sisters, aunts and uncles. I loved medicine. I grew up with it. I worked hard --really, really hard-- but I was not good enough for Medical School. Not nearly, not even close. You could say I was the Family Runt..." They all shuddered politely. "Best I could manage was BioChemistry. I completed a year, did well. Then Mum & Dad had a car-crash. Dad soon died, Mum lingered. I took a year out to nurse her, but it dragged into two. After she died, I drifted into voluntary hospital work. I did a Nursing Assistant course, qualified for Mature Entry, completed a Nursing BSc, switched to Medical Technician. I became a HotZoner by accident. Another accident put me and a good gun between that Rogue and freedom." "Do you enjoy Rogue Hunting ?" "Nu. I have a knack. They must be stopped-- D'uh, why only Rogue Males ? There's a chance they'll accept Amnesty and spare my tears." "You've done it again !" "Sorry. There's no time to cry in a HotZone. One benefit of working to exhaustion is that cases and faces blur. That's another reason for a quarantine after-- like a diver's decompression stop..." "Could HomoSap wipe us out ?" "Yes. Given how close we've been to exterminating ourselves, you'd go easy. Cost us, mind, but since when have fanatics cared about human lives ? 'One death is a tragedy, a million is a statistic'. Wasn't that Stalin ?" "How could they-- you-- HomoSap do it ?" "Ethics or deed ?" "The deed..." "Okay, based on the open literature, easily. High tech ? TeraHertz traps, motion detectors with UV lamps, poison sprays, poison gasses, binary agents, toxic bait, targetted disease, dirty bombs, land-mines. Low tech ? Grid searches and posses. Either way, official estimate of collateral damage is five of us for each of you." "And your guess ?" "At least ten per. Besides, we'd be mad to try." "Why ?" "Ethics. You're People, too. And you're part of our genetic diversity. Long term, it would be like losing the Neanderthals again. Hmm, do your Chronicles go back so far ? No ? Sad. You could make a mint from popular books and Edutainment..." "And you'd get a juicy commission ?" "Not likely ! That's 'Conflict of Interest' ! An obscure 'Thank You' would do..." "If the UN voted to wipe us out, would you obey ?" "Nu. Criminal orders. Besides, they've already abolished poverty, hunger, thirst, war and global warming a dozen times-- Let's get REAL here !!" Several laughed, but the questioner persisted, "What would YOU do ?" "Nu. Rather ask what UK have done... Many countries declared you Vermin. Others criminalised Vampirism. Typical British fudge, we made Porphyria a 'Notifiable Disease', added it to the two dozen we had. The same control measures apply, the same support is there. Medical records are protected by hard encryption, medical confidentiality and centuries of legal precedent." I chuckled, "Off the record, we call it the 'German Measles Solution'. Honest ! After Measles was identified, German doctors spotted a serious variant. BMA said it was the same disease, Germans said it was different. Eventually, it was settled at a conference where the British chairman, late for lunch, suggested a neat comprimise..." "You cannot be serious !!" "Go Google. The alternative was to tag you as Primates, class you as Dangerous Animals and work from there. Would you care to live in a zoo ?" That drew some mutterings... "A thought: As a HotZoner, I've had vaccinations meant for animals when there was a chance of species jumps. Okay, we use micro-dosing, but '3-Day Flu' is considered a mild reaction." "With all that, do you have time for hobbies ??" "Yes. I read a lot, fiction and the 3Ls-- LifeLong Learning. I do play some paintball, some computer games..." "Would you play '29 Days' ?" "Yes. Pete mentioned you have it. Been a while, I'm a bit rusty, I'm not used to these nails, but I'd give it a go." "How would you play ?" "Hmm, can you still select a Sap/Vamp hybrid Avatar, or was that cut out ?" The Elders muttered in confusion. The Youngsters nodded. I went on, "I won't have your reflexes, agility, wound-healing or Glamour, but my stamina is better. Also, my eyes are wired different. Wider peripheral vision, different colour sensitivities, less distracted by movement. As my Avatar would be Albino, I can't DayWalk beyond twilight or deep shade." "You would dare Hunt US ?" "No chance ! I'm on YOUR team-- Zombies are the only game in town !" "You're enjoying this..." Someone complained from the shadows. "Why not ? Would you prefer a stuffy Lawyer, an earnest Anthropologist, or --Perish the thought !-- a Career Diplomat ??" "Chris, BloodKin of Montague..." "Frank ?" "I have eluded both Knights Templar and the Spanish Inquisition. I tricked Matthew Hopkins, the self-styled 'Witchfinder General'. I fled the Revolutionary Guillotine. I escaped several mobs of Transylvanian peasants. I have slipped traps set by seemingly fey Slayers. I took the life-blood, papers and uniform from a most unpleasant Gestapo Colonel-- Yet, in all my years, you are the most dangerous HomoSap I have ever met..." "Surely you jest ?" "Do you recall a short Scientifiction story, entitled, 'The Cold Equations' ?" "Happens I do..." "Where-in an unfortunate young Space Pilot must sacrifice his stowaway --a beautiful young woman-- to save a plague-stricken planet ?" "It was a HotZone. He had no choice." "Precisely." "And your point ?" "Must you be obtuse ?" "I lack your referents." "Reduce the problem to its essentials: You save what you can. Those of us who cannot co-exist with HomoSap, you will destroy without flinching-- And then mourn as your own." "Um, yes. That is correct. Sorry." "That is the answer I expected of you-- And feared." I gulped. "Chris, BloodKin of Montague: I came here hoping this outrageous scheme would fail. I was tasked with obstructing it in any lawful way... Now I must urge that it succeeds. For, if you are not our RogueBane, hence with us, we are doomed."
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The Rock Doctor	Re: Project Lorraine Chapter #10: Point of Order.	#17	[url]	[-]
Posts: 14 08/14/06 18:09:25	The last few chapters have been pretty good - sorry I haven't commented more promptly. I do occasionally find that...how do I say it...the narrative makes it clear that events are happening, and that the characters are reacting to them, but I personally only comprehend part of the picture. A previous description of the attempted use of glamour on Chris is a case in point - clearly a vamp tried something, and Chris caught it, but it's not clear to me what the vamp actually did. One other nitpick I'd have to add - the story about the TB-infected vamp would read well as part of the actual narrative, but it doesn't sound like a oral tale. Too much dialogue, perhaps - I'd replace something like "Phil, come up and watch my back" with I told Phil to come up and watch my back. Anway, both are intended to be constructive criticisms, and certainly don't detract from my enjoyment of the story thus far. I'll be waiting for #11.
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Nik aka Speaker To Cats	Re: Project Lorraine Chapter #10: Point of Order.	#18	[url]	[-]
Posts: 142 08/15/06 08:11:20	Sorry, a 'deep' Introvert, my grammar remains erratic, I don't do dialogue well at the best of times, and Project Lorraine has meant tackling complex, multi-sided conversations and discussions in unfamiliar social settings... ( 'Run away ! Run away !' From Monty Python ? ) Recollecting the Rogue Hunt, Chris was quoting their spoken words per, 'I left the Comm open'. Like a cockpit recorder or 911 call, his audio log has additional immediacy and is not subject to errors of recall... Glamour is a problem for me as it is 'magic', hence falls into Clarke's category of 'sufficiently advanced technology'. I scratched around for a plausible mechanism, decided that a certain ignorance was appropriate. Frank's Experiment: Have you ever watched a Stage Magician do card-tricks badly, for laughs ? eg Tommy Cooper, aka The Fez ? You must wonder if the trick is the sleight of hand, the attempted illusion, or mis-direction preparatory to pulling a REMARKABLY LARGE rabbit out of his fob-pocket... In this case, Chris sees Frank leave the table. But which is the illusion ? Did Frank go ? Did Frank stay ? Something else ? They are conflicting hypotheses. He must collapse the wave-function. True to his family's 'Thomas' tag, he abandons passive observer status and physically interacts with the situation. Though he has previously pierced Glamour, he cannot rely on precedent, he must test it... Um, I spun A Winter's Tale and Dinner Ladies out of linking paragraphs that deserved better. I've got to write two or three more before the next 'biggy', which is comparable to #10: Point of Order. And, yes, Chapter_xx: RogueBane is complete but for trivial continuity lines... Meanwhile, if you'd care to don your HomoVamp Avatar and put some questions to 'Chris', you're welcome ! Project Lorraine began as a short to match Bete Noir, but got a life of its own. Now I've got to work it through to be rid of it, so I can go back to my CAD, electronics etc etc and perhaps resume work on my stalled 'Orloc of Robur'... D'uh, my head hurts...
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Abdul Hadi Pasha II	Eeek!	#19	[url]	[-]
Posts: 961 08/16/06 05:45:44 Administrator	I didn't see this till now - I have some reading to do! As this forum is infrequently posted in, please feel free to post announcements in the more active forums.
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Nik aka Speaker To Cats	Project Lorraine Chapter #11: Hygiene Rules.	#20	[url]	[-]
Posts: 142 08/16/06 18:16:37	Project Lorraine Chapter #11: Hygiene Rules. Pleased HomoVamps don't clap their hands, they rumble and hoot approval. These did, loud and long, loud and long. Monty slapped my shoulders hard enough to sting. Many pressed forwards, spoke to Pete, grasped my hands. I sagged in my chair and sighed with relief as the delighted crowd slowly dispersed. "It will be hard." Frank admitted, "It will be very hard. My faction will claim you have Bent me. They will send a Delegation. If I know them, it will be led by Elder Broderik. He is-- Parochial, at best. But he is honourable. He will yield to logic..." I've sat in on many fraught negotiations. I've watched and listened as our Blue Helmets, Translators and medical staff struggled to convince custom-bound locals of our pressing need to act in our strange way-- And soon, please ? No polyglot, I've learned the rudiments of a dozen languages, heard the same arguments in a hundred-plus accents. I've helped talk a way into frightened communities that sheltered sick and carriers. Now, I'd begun to get an 'ear' for the Nest's speech patterns. Something was wrong: Frank had used the correct words, but he'd said them wrong. There was a 'misplace' in his emphasis, a dire 'gotcha'. My non-existent neck-hairs crawled... "What of the other Delegates ?" I asked carefully. Frank gulped, "You are sharp-- or fey !" "Oh ?" Monty looked between us, "You fear trouble ?" "Yes." Frank nodded, "Chris, Monty, they will send body-guards. These will be more than wary..." "Amateurs." I nodded, "Paranoid and twitchy, arrogant to a fault... I know their type." "I dare say you do !" Frank chuckled, "But they will treat you as dirt-- Or less." "I know their type." I repeated. Frank looked at me, hesitated, shrugged, "So convince me." "Zimbabwe, Ecuador, Uganda, Aden, the Horn of Africa, the Unquiet 'Stans, the Uplands of Columbia..." I shuddered, "I'm only a Medical Technician --A jumped-up Nurse !!-- but I've had to front for our female Doctors and Surgeons. And the converse-- what right had I to command a Mayor or Military Governor ? Just don't get me started on those Uplands' Drug Barons..." "These will be worse..." Frank sighed. "I know." I allowed, "So, Deep South, Ante Bellum ? South Africa before Mandela's Miracle ? Dhimini Law ?" "For one so young..." Frank admitted, "You have a way with words." "Sorry." I shook my head, "Hot Zones concentrate the mind. When we've time, we ask ourselves what we could do better. Too often, doing better for some would kill many more. It's a grim trade-off..." "Why do you do it ?" Monty asked. "It is an illness." I shrugged, "But, sometimes, we do wonder if we should triage their societies, likewise. Though how can we judge ??" Monty sighed, "Philosophers have struggled with that riddle. I know no answer." "Nor I ..." Frank allowed, "Save only the Golden Rule." "Speaking of which..." I groaned, "Monty, you'll want me to move out of the Guest Wing ?" Monty nodded unhappily, "Yes, it must air thoroughly lest they take any lingering odour of HomoSap as a deliberate slight." "D'uh, I was hoping to try that casket..." "Pete said !" Monty chuckled, "However, the lumbar support is indifferent at best: Give me an orthopaedic Dunlopillo mattress plus a duvet !!" "Uh ?" Frank blinked, "You would sleep in a coffin ?" "How could I pass up the chance ?" Frank laughed, "I have huddled in a Sarcophagus in the catacombs of Rome, held my breath as searchers passed within inches. Later, I re-arranged the bones as a pillow, slept like a child... It was a memorable experience !!" "I'll pass on the bones..." I shook my head, "I've woken in a mass-grave-- Once was enough." "Um, if you do not mind... ?" Monty wondered. "Uganda." I shuddered, "I'd caught the mutating bug we were there to fight, ran a huge fever, collapsed into coma. Local helpers took me for dead, bagged me up and dropped me in with the rest. Fortunately, it was a wide trench. I wasn't three deep. Fever broke. I woke, ripped a bigger hole in the battered bag, crawled out. IV fluids, a dozen hours sleep and I was back at work." "Now that is a tale to curl even MY fangs !" Monty allowed, "Chris, we have a few days to spare: Today, you may indulge your modest fantasy ! Then, alas, you must move to the Singles Wing. They are en-suite, though spartan by comparison..." "Be honest !" Frank interjected, "They are Cells !" "Uh, yes..." Monty admitted, "But they also have a bolt on the inside." "Curious state of affairs..." I frowned, "You'd best explain." "When an un-paired Female comes into Season and Calls, all Rutting Males must be locked away for their own safety. The inside bolt provides privacy..." I gulped, "Yes, that makes sense. Okay, I'll move in there after breakfast tomorrow." "Elders ? Chris ?" Pete waited, "Your table and chairs ?" His nimble helpers had re-arranged the rest while we'd talked. "That was quick !" I stood. Pete nodded thanks, "Chris, you have a dozen invitations-- Everything from a LitterDay Sleep-Over to Elder Vine's Mead tasting..." "Wow ! Thanks, Pete ! D'uh, could you and Monty sort them into order ? I need to return these Kitchen clothes, make my apologies..." "Elders, do you have any plans for Chris in the hour before 'Afternoon Tea' ? No ? Okay, Chris, I'll rescue you then..." Joey and the Dinner Ladies were waiting for me behind their serving counters. "Sorry..." I offered my crushed tabard and hat, "These will need a wash and iron..." "No problem, Chris !" Sue grinned, "Everything gets washed every day. Besides, they're drip-dry." "My kind of clothes..." I admitted, "And, thanks again for their loan !" "Ooh, you should have seen everyone's faces !" Annabelle giggled, "They could see how you did it, but that made it even better !" "They'll look twice next time !" Joey allowed, "They may even talk to us !!" "Um, about that job..." I mentioned, "There's been a complication." "I thought the meeting went rather well... ? " Mari puzzled. "Looks like I'll be here for a while-- Frank's got to send for a Delegation." "You want to help out ?" "To offset hijacking your diner for meetings." "Food rules." Joey shook his head, "Can't let you do more than clear tables, not without training." "What would be involved ?" I shrugged, "I did kitchen hygiene on my Nursing Assistant course, again for that Nursing degree." "Well..." Joey thought about it, "Mari, you did a refresher not long ago ?" "Study the procedures, do the written test, show competence." Mari shrugged, "Not hard, but lots of detail." "Okay... Looks like I'm being thrown out of the Guest Wing, so it can air before the Delegation arrive. Monty's finding me a 'Singles' pad, but that's not the problem..." I tried to find the best words, "I'll need to stay out of the Delegates' way. Struck me that a catering uniform would make a fair disguise. Besides, I'd get to talk, and be useful, too." "Hold it !" Joey warned, "You can't cook in my kitchen !" "I wouldn't dare !" I admitted, "Wrong sort of Hot Zone !" That got a laugh, before Mary elbowed Sue, "We don't have any Male uniforms for 'Front of House' !" "No problem." I shrugged, "I'm a qualified Nurse. The course was gender-neutral. If you can find a new joke on the topic, I'll give you a French Kiss !" The catering team exchanged glances. Sue put it in words, "You'd be a Dinner LADY ?" "Why not ? Looks like fun !" "Provided you do okay on the hygiene course..." Joey allowed, "And the practical, too. And remember, my vision's better than yours. Tools must be cleaner than clean..." "Swabs, too ?" "Perhaps..." Joey grinned, "But I won't set hours. You come, you go. You're welcome any time." "Thanks." I nodded, "Much appreciated... Where do I start ?" "Oh ! I've a spare questions set !" Mari remembered, "Jackie was going to do the course with me, then began to Call ! Now she's got lovely Triplets !" "Oooh, yes " Annabelle cooed, "Aren't they lovely !" "Bet she's glad it wasn't Quins again !" Sue chuckled. "But they're growing up so well !" Mary noted, "Chris, you must have seen them in the Kindergarten ?" "Quins ?" I guessed, "Er, yes... Asked some sharp questions: Bright kids !" "See ?" Mary grinned, "Take after their Nan !" "Okay, okay, enough brooding !" Joey announced, "Mari, could you dig out the training procedures, a pen and that sheet ? We could start Chris on them now..." The first customers were queuing for Afternoon Tea when I handed in my test papers. Mari glanced at them, giggled. She passed them to Sue, who turned the pages carefully, her eyes getting wider with each. Finally, she shook her head, pushed them through the 'Orders' hatch, grinned, "Wait for it--" "How the-- ?" Exploded from the kitchen side. Joey put his head around the door, "Okay, okay, who forgot to tell Chris he had all day to complete it ?" "No problem !" I winced, "I can take a joke..." "Fine !" Joey groaned, "Okay, Sue, when you've a moment, could you check what's spare in your locker room ? And he'll need a pair of safety clogs, of course..." "Clogs ?" I looked down, "Clogs ! You wear clogs ! D'uh, everyone else goes bare-foot, but you're shod ! D'you know, I didn't notice !" Several customers were briefly delayed while the Dinner Ladies relished my dismay...
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Project Lorraine.	07/18/06 15:31:44	Nik aka Speaker To Cats
Project Lorraine #2: Expecting Someone Taller...	07/18/06 15:35:16	Nik aka Speaker To Cats
Project Lorraine #3: Face / On	07/19/06 13:36:50	Nik aka Speaker To Cats
Project Lorraine #4: Down The Rabbit Hole...	07/20/06 06:24:20	Nik aka Speaker To Cats
Comments, please...	07/20/06 09:52:05	Nik aka Speaker To Cats
Re: Project Lorraine.	07/21/06 14:05:16	The Rock Doctor
Piercing preconceptions...	07/21/06 15:04:52	Nik aka Speaker To Cats
Re: Project Lorraine #5: Uncanny Valley...	07/21/06 15:11:52	Nik aka Speaker To Cats
Need help on menu...	07/24/06 03:58:40	Nik aka Speaker To Cats
Re: Need help on menu...	07/24/06 17:40:35	The Rock Doctor
Project Lorraine Chapter #6: Fast food...	07/30/06 14:54:31	Nik aka Speaker To Cats
Project Lorraine Chapter #7: A Winter's Tale...	08/01/06 11:58:40	Nik aka Speaker To Cats
If you were a young Vampire...	08/02/06 10:19:28	Nik aka Speaker To Cats
Re: If you were a young Vampire...	08/02/06 18:24:28	The Rock Doctor
Project Lorraine Chapter #8: Children's Hour.	08/05/06 16:24:58	Nik aka Speaker To Cats
Project Lorraine #9: Dinner-Ladies.	08/10/06 14:10:32	Nik aka Speaker To Cats
Project Lorraine Chapter #10: Point of Order.	08/11/06 17:37:08	Nik aka Speaker To Cats
Re: Project Lorraine Chapter #10: Point of Order.	08/14/06 18:09:25	The Rock Doctor
Re: Project Lorraine Chapter #10: Point of Order.	08/15/06 08:11:20	Nik aka Speaker To Cats
Eeek!	08/16/06 05:45:44	Abdul Hadi Pasha II
Re: Eeek!	09/24/06 09:52:27	Nik aka Speaker To Cats
Re: Eeek!	09/27/06 17:14:03	The Rock Doctor
Project Lorraine Chapter #11: Hygiene Rules.	08/16/06 18:16:37	Nik aka Speaker To Cats
Project Lorraine Chapter #12: A soupon of spice...	08/19/06 16:51:03	Nik aka Speaker To Cats
Project Lorraine Chapter #13: Food for thought...	08/22/06 18:19:08	Nik aka Speaker To Cats
Project Lorraine Chapter #14: Sum-Thing Amiss...	08/26/06 15:05:46	Nik aka Speaker To Cats
Project Lorraine Chapter #15: Prt porter...	08/31/06 03:27:46	Nik aka Speaker To Cats
Project Lorraine Chapter #16: Tag, You're It...	09/04/06 04:35:01	Nik aka Speaker To Cats
Project Lorraine Chapter #17: Oh, What A Tangled Web...	09/24/06 06:18:55	Nik aka Speaker To Cats
Project Lorraine Chapter #18: Betwixt & Between...	09/24/06 09:18:27	Nik aka Speaker To Cats
Project Lorraine Chapter #19: My head hurts, too...	09/24/06 18:06:32	Nik aka Speaker To Cats
Project Lorraine Chapter #20: A Surfeit of Zombies...	09/30/06 04:19:54	Nik aka Speaker To Cats
Project Lorraine Chapter #21: Time Out...	10/02/06 16:11:14	Nik aka Speaker To Cats
Oops......	10/05/06 18:24:37	Nik aka Speaker To Cats
Project Lorraine Chapter #22: Six of One...	10/05/06 18:47:15	Nik aka Speaker To Cats
Project Lorraine Chapter #23: Trouble at Mill...	10/10/06 16:57:33	Nik aka Speaker To Cats
Project Lorraine Chapter #24 : You cannot be serious !!	10/12/06 17:47:40	Nik aka Speaker To Cats
Project Lorraine Chapter # 25: Train Hard...	10/15/06 16:42:49	Nik aka Speaker To Cats
Project Lorraine Chapter # 26 : Green for Danger...	10/19/06 05:15:17	Nik aka Speaker To Cats
Project Lorraine Chapter # 27 : Come In To My Parlour...	10/21/06 12:57:59	Nik aka Speaker To Cats
Project Lorraine Chapter # 28: If You Can't Stand The Heat..	10/26/06 06:39:45	Nik aka Speaker To Cats
Project Lorraine Chapter # 29 : A Little Learning...	10/30/06 10:30:48	Nik aka Speaker To Cats
Project Lorraine Chapter # 30 : Rogue Bane.	10/30/06 12:01:32	Nik aka Speaker To Cats
Press Cuttings....	10/30/06 18:24:21	Nik aka Speaker To Cats
Project Lorraine: TNG.	11/02/06 09:36:23	Nik aka Speaker To Cats
Project Lorraine: 29 More Days...	11/02/06 09:44:04	Nik aka Speaker To Cats
Re: Project Lorraine: 29 More Days...	11/07/06 11:59:29	Belushi TD
Re: Glad you enjoyed it !!	11/07/06 13:32:31	Nik aka Speaker To Cats
Re: Project Lorraine.	11/07/06 17:56:34	Belushi TD