parable of the boy

One day a man came to town.
He brought with him many gifts and wonders which fit in the palm of your hand.
All the people flocked to him, to be delighted and enjoy the day.
But one boy did not come to see the man.
He stayed alone at the other end of town.
All day he stared up and watched the clouds,
    he listened to the birds,
    he felt the wind, and
    he was happy.
After the man had left with his pockets full,
The other boys came to ridicule the one boy who had not come to see the gifts,
    to enjoy the wonders the strange man had brought with him.
The other boys threw insults at the one boy.
They called him names and laughed and told him he was strange.
He responded,
"It is not strange to enjoy the wonders of the world, the blue sky, the white clouds, the distant mountains, the cool breeze.  It is only strange to consider only wonders that which you must pay for".

the aftermath

"clear! make way, coming through!"

Jake, covered in blood, both his own and otherwise, came crashing through the double doors of the medical part of the facility. Covered in dirt, guts, blood, he looked terrible from the neck down. Ironically, he was grinning from ear to ear like a cheshire cat.

"unbelievable!"
"Allright Jake, try not to talk too much or else I'll have to sedate you,"
"Doc, you should have been there, it was..." Jake couldn't even begin to describe what it was.
"Well now, if I would have been there, who would have been here to take care of your mangled leftovers?"

Jake was asleep, probably from loss of blood.

"That's right, Jake, you sleep. When you wake up, you'll be about as good as your going to be,"

"he's going to make it, doc?"

The Doc didn't reply, but his eyes spoke for him.

Upon waking, Jake found himself staring up at ten or so happy faces.

"there he is, good man" it was the Sergent.

"good boy jake, glad to have you with us," said the Captain.

"Doc was right, he woke up right on schedule."

Tell us about the battle, Jake.



The amazing sense of fantastic that Jake had been feeling prior to passing out due to blood loss had been replaced by an overwhelming sense of good fortune and a perma-grin.

"Now, now, don't press him too much, he's been through a lot, give him a minute now."

"Actually," Jake smiled at them, " I feel great."

"That's fine, Jake, really that's fine," Doc was smiling too, "just try not to overdo it right now, okay?"

"Sure, doc. No problem."



All of it was like a crazy awesome dream where you are a super-hero with all these powers and get to bone all these hot blonde porn-stars, but when you wake up, all you have left is the good feeling that's remained, while the details are sketchy at best.


The Doc was the first to speak, "Now, if you can, could you tell everyone what happened at the DOT?"

"Man, what a fight!" Jake sounded like a sports fan that had just watched his favorite team trounce their rivals. He didn't sound at all like the only survivor to the biggest all out battle-royal between good and evil that the New World had ever seen.


"It all started with Techno music, we were so scarred in that little room that we would have probably froze when the call cam in, but then..."

Jakes eyes became distant, his face relaxed, everyone in the room waited intently on his silence. A tear started rolling down his dirt smeared face.

"They're all dead, aren't they." It was not a question.

"You're still here, Jake," the captain couldn't cry, so he was the one to speak.

"We knew there was going to be security, but there wasn't just a force of VM guarding the component, there was a small army, five hundred at least. A whole armored guard of tanks, trucks, motorcycles, fuck. I think they were thinking to just make it so fucking obvious NOT to fuck with them that is why we won."

Everyone knew the outcome, 100 of the facilities warrior class, those with a strong kind of combat skill or other combat qualification, against 500 armored guards both VM and mercenaries. And even against those odds, the machine had been destroyed, the VM force destroyed, scattered to oblivion. It was as if equal parts of matter and anti-matter had come into coexistence, only to obliterate both simultaneously. What nobody could understand was: why?

"The music, it was the music," said Jake, "it made you strong, fast, and brave to the point of idiocy." Over the next few hours, Jake spoke of those that had passed, of their heroic efforts against impossible odds, how one good-heart had taken down a socre of armored trucks by confusing of the tanks with illusions, how the music, blasting through the air out of a combat helicopter speaker system had just as much of a negative effect on the VM force as a positive one on the facility's; How the music caused some of the VM to turn and run, only to be gunned down by their own support troops, and others to freeze in their tracks with their guns pointed with the dangerous end towards the fight.

"It was as if they were so shocked by the fact that we were actually attacking them, and the sheer force of will, the sheer ferocity of teh attack, that they felt that they were fighting on the losing side." Said Jake, as if one statement could ever explain the unexplainable event that had occurred.



That night Jake slept the sleep of the just. The VM scheme to tip the scales had resulted in a cataclysmic event, severely damaging both sides resources and leaving both licking their wounds. But one thing was true, all the momentum was with the facility and their attempt to stifle the Vice Magistrate's efforts to bring the New World down into chaos. Never before had the goal of defeating the VM and instituting a world where equality and justice were the bread and water of the people been so real. Jake never woke up, but he was to be credited as the hero of the Battle of the New World, not for his actions, but because he survived it, giving those left behind the story, the legend that was to become the Legacy of the Just. His job finished, Jake died.

calm before storm

dark. always so fucking dark. ok, stay calm buddy.

no sense getting your head blown off when your acting like a fool. might as well be calm as shit when you get your head blown off. ya. cool as a cucumber. might as well be coll when you get your cucumber blown off. damn fuckers.

Jake, along with the rest of the team that was chosen to fight that night, in his own head only. unaware of his fellow cannon fodder crouched against the walls of the small hallway of the DOT building, about to run out into the night, guns blazing, for what could possibly be the deciding battle of the goodhearted vs. the Vice Magistrate. Even though every single one of the 100 or so soldiers were shit their pants scared, you wouldn't have known it. all you could see on their faces was grim determination like warpaint made of hard lines and fixed eyes. very likely, most of them were going to die in the great conflagration that was going to follow. the prize was to stop what was potentially the most devastating accomplishment of the vice magistrate, the ability to turn regular people into people with powers, evil powers. with the Arcane project on the line, the vice magistrate was about to have an unlimited supply of personnel to throw at the good-hearts efforts. this advantage would be more than enough to ensure the VM victory, to tip the scales.



In an unprecedented turn of good fortune, the facility had come across information that the transportation of the final, necessary component to the arcane project was being planned by the Vice Magistrate. Knowing the importance and vulnerability of such an endeavor, both sides saw this as a pivotal point at which to focus. The vice magistrate had acted accordingly, the facilities source had said, stacking the transport with enough firepower and soldiers to subdue any attack. It was Jakes hope, along with the 100 other good hearts, that they could in fact break the defenses in an all out attack. While some of those at the facility had what could be called "combat abilities": heightened agility or strength, the ability to make ones skin tough, or to set fires (or put them out), Jake was not one of these. Jake had been chosen because he was a cop before the Change. Almost a lifetime ago, he wasn't sure that it would matter. He didn't resent the choice. He was glad to do his part, put in his share. If his share was his life, so be it.


"It's almost time."

Softly at first, like the song of grass and trees in a gentle wind, then louder so that all the fears and hopes and thoughts were drowned out into perfect tonality, the music of Techno began to play.

A Light in the Dark

The facility was quiet, darkened. Techno's music wafted through the air like an ambianic smoke machine had been left on. The whole place had the feel of a sleeping giant of some sleeping army after a day of marching. That is, all except for one office where the lights were still hot, and the music was off. The Captain and Jake were pressing Clyde Armstrong for questions. By the looks of their faces, they were not getting the answers they wanted.

"So when was project Arcane put on the table, then?" The captain was pressing hard and starting to sweat under the lights. Clyde had a look of purpose, albeit an evil one, that was completely absent back in the alley, noted Jake. Clyde took his time to respond.

"Well, your guess is as good as mine, Cap'n," he almost smiled the last word.

"You mean they hadn't started the project before you had left?"

"Well," Clyde sat back and looked at the corners of the room, "I didn't really leave, or at least not as much as they threw me out."

Captain Harcourt and Jake exchanged glances.

"You mean they forced you to leave?"
"Well," Clyde said, pointing at his neck, "you don't suppose I gave myself this scar, do you?"

"Dammit Clyde!" The Captain pounded the table, hard enough that the few heads outside on the main floor of the Facility looked up from that nights work.

"Captain, I think I could use a break," the speaker was a tall, pale androgynous male whose sense of peace and serenity more than was plain on the his face, it actually filled the corner he was standing in.

"Ha! If I'm getting you down then maybe the scales aren't so perfectly balanced after all," Clyde emphasized this with a table slap and a sneer of false joy.

"Come on Cap, I could use a break too," said Jake as he went over to the Captain.

"We've been at this for hours and we hardly know more than when we started. Maybe we shouldn't have put so many of our resources to finding this ... shithead."

"Well Cap, we didn't know that he had been forcibly removed from the Magistrate, so that's a leak we could work on."

"But, ... oh I guess."

"Please remember, spoke the androgynous one, "as a three, we have a significant advantage in the questioning, indeed. It is only by allowing him to influence your minds does he succeed in evading your intentions."

The statement almost, but not quite, set off the two big men. What stopped it was the calm that was spreading over them as Andy spoke. Mixed with the warmth and music of the Facility, the words had power of a sort. By the time they had stood and heard the words, they felt that the criticism had awoken them from a dark sleep. Calmly, they went back to the room where it appears that Clyde is laughing.

"Clyde, I want you to listen to me," said Jake. The laughing stopped.

"We want you to help us, and there is no way that we can force you to, but we're going to try anyway because according to all of our information, you're our best bet and figuring what's going on in the Vice Magistrate.

"We can't really offer you anything that you would usually want for helping us, but we can get you off the street and into some clean clothes, get you a shower and try to help you if that's what you want."
Fuck you. That's what Clyde wanted to say, he was too afraid to start crying, so he didn't. Jake saw that look again, the one from the alley. But under the hopelessness, just maybe...

"Now, we know that project Arcane has something to do with converting Naturals, is that right?"

A tear, golden sparking in the hot lights, snuck out of Clyde's left eye and started it's decent. Clyde nodded, but he couldn't understand why.

"We think is was started by someone outside of the Eight, maybe one of the Lieutenants, is that right?"
"It was Victor."
"Victor?" The Captain asked, Jake shot him a glance: don't break the spell the glance said. Clyde didn't notice, he was about to go off like a geyser.

"Yes, Victor Goodbane, he's the one who discovered the theory behind the project's research."

"When you were thrown out they beat you and gave you that scar."

"Yes," the tears were really flowing now.

"Why did they kick you out?"

"I told them it was rubbish, that it would never work, that converting Naturals had to be done with their consent, usually indirectly but that it couldn't be done with their will being bent against it," Jake and the Captain, until just now, had thought the same thing. It was common knowledge until that point, that despair either by self-abasement or other's wrongdoing could lead to that downward spiral which led Naturals to convert.

"But what Victor was suggesting was different, completely physical, a response to a stimulus that produced the emotional destitution required to damage a soul beyond repair. In a sense, nothing else was required than the treatment he was suggesting."
"What treatment?"
"The premise of Victor's idea was simple: Pain."

It had been a goodnight, thought Jake on his way home through the streets. They had accomplished with Clyde more than they could have hoped. It was Andy's intuition and Jake's insight, formed from years of dealing with hopeless people in the city, that had finally cracked the code. Even the Captain's sincerity and determination were a necessary part of the recipe for that evening's success. On the other hand, the news that they had received from Clyde wasn't really to be classified as 'good news'. The Vice Magistrate was working on some kind of treatment meant to convert Naturals to the side of despair. Project Arcane was real, not just some gossip on the street. It was real and it was coming for them, all of them. But now, with the Day shift starting, Jake was headed home for some R&R for the first time in weeks. They would fulfill their promise to Clyde. They would try to help him deal with his demons. Even more, he needed it now. Old scars are harder to heal than new ones, the Doc would say.

In the increasing light of dawn, walking down the dark streets of the city which was the center of this New World, but was equally about to come apart at the seems, Jake walked with his head high and purpose in his step. Just like the light of a new day, thought Jake, there is a hope.

The Smell of Sin

"So when is the last time you've seen him?"

The Captain was a big bald man. He looked like a lumpy, pale version of the incredible hulk as a high school janitor, but his resolve was as big as he was, or bigger. Questioning the whereabouts of a previous member of the Vice Magistrate was a funny thing to do, thought Jake, especially when the one you are questioning is a streetrat. Pictures of Clyde were strewn about the table.

"He was in the streets, ya' know. Bummin' and hustlin', but he didn't look like these pictures much. But I've been trying to tell you I 'aint been down there for a while."
"He's telling the truth Captain, I can smell it on him," which Jake meant rather literally. He could tell the sins of people in the vicinity just as if it had left a stink on them.

"He's been clean for a while, haven't ya bud."

Back out on the floor of the Facility, the usual amount of activity was taking place, creating a heavy murmur. As always, the music of Techno was wafting through the air, giving those present an ample feeling of productivity and a mood of pensive replenishment to those leaning back in their chairs. Coming out of the interrogation room, Jake walked to one of the desks nearby where a small boned good-heart was doing some menial task really well.

"Hey Roger."
"How's it goin', Jake? Any progress finding Armstrong?"

"Not really, just heading out again here in a minute. Hey, have you seen..."
"They're in your left front cargo pocket."
"Oh, so they are, thanks Roger."
"Hey Jake, when you're out there do me a favor, ok?"

"What's that?"
"Watch out for yourself, okay? Things have been getting real screwy lately, ya' know?"
"Ya, I know, see you around Roger."
As Jake walked away, he thought about the city he was entering. The contrast of fluorescent lights and the darkness, the extremes in speed and light. He thought about the smell. He almost took a deep breath walking out the door, leaving that warm little center that he was becoming more and more to think of as home. He was doing his part, he knew that, and he had his part to do. He only hoped that the little he could contribute would be enough to tip the scales in their favor. Almost holding his breath, mentally carrying the feeling of that place, feeling the hope and light, the industry contained within, he stepped out into the darkness.

soul-sniffer

Dark. The alley was so dark that Jake couldn't see the detritus and filth that he was practically wading through, but he could smell it. That wasn't the smell that interested him, though. The smell of rotting cardboard boxes and waste filling his nostrils wasn't why he had come down this alley, like a bloodhound on the hunt. A different smell had caught his attention, the smell of sin. Back at the street, it had been faint, almost undetectable. Now, however, it was getting stronger. It was getting stronger with each step he took down the alley, with his hands in front of him, trying to keep away the invisible obstacles. Walking this way, he kept his nose pointed like a compass toward his expected goal. Down the alley, it was becoming lighter. One of the street lamps wasn't out. The smell was becoming stronger: thievery, deceit for sure, but also despair, drug addiction, and anal sex. In one of the doorways a man was lying, or at least it could have been a man. To Jake's eyes it just seemed to be a ragged bundle of old, dirty clothes, roughly in the shape of a man. Jake stood over the man, and he took a photograph out of his jacket pocket. As he did this the man on the ground started to stir restlessly. As Jake's gaze began to take in the man's features, the man on the ground looked up at him. Physically, he smelled nearly twice as bad as he looked: unshaven, dirty face, with a look of hopelessness that Jake was only too familiar with.

"Clyde Armstrong?" asked Jake.

Although the man did not move or speak, nor make a sound, and even though some people in Jake's place might have said he made no reaction at all, Jake saw in the man's eyes a certain resolve appear in the man's features, and he knew that this was the man that he had come to find. The only problem was what he was going to do next.

"Now, " Jake said to himself, "how am I going to get you out of here?"

cheater

she heard him coming, so she concentrated hard on doing all the things that people do when they are NOT cheating. It bothered her that she kept hearing him coming from behind. Clockwise around and around, always clockwise. but she didn't think about this, all she knew was that it was always from behind.

now he's far in front, sitting down again, she's almost done.

"lemme see your test". the girl next to her wispers mutely without moving her lips. she makes the "t" sound by clicking her tongue on her upper teeth. without looking, the girl hands the answer sheet under his line of sight...

"hurry up," he'll be coming back soon, she thought. the girl sitting next to her wasn't exactly a friend. maybe it was because they shared some after-school behaviors that they always sat together in the back of class. she was kind of getting bored with it, though. a few minutes pass, the girl sitting next to her didn't say anything, she just put the answer sheet on the floor.
then, she put on her coat and walked up to the TA at the front of the hall, who hadn't moved at all during this whole time. she didn't look at him and handed her test out to him.

"what was that, a calculator?" he asked.

Startled out of her reinforced blank expression, the girl quickly recovered. "no, uh she lent me a pencil." "oh, ok then, see you."

As the girl walked out, towards the back of the hall, she didn't notice the girl who gave her the test, furiously erasing all the marks she had put on the exam sheet before time ran out, and methodically, carefully, put the right answers back in their place.