Rain Harlow
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Chapter 37
🕑 Added 2025-05-03 15:00:11 +0000 UTCChapter 37: So Very Special
Memoria turned to look at Lindsay and her head cocked sideways as a fond smile broke out. “Oh, tsk tsk…” she murmured, then slowly strode over and touched the top of Lindsay’s head while standing next to her. “Don’t pout, hmmm? I know you can’t help but care so deeply for your students, dear. And he’s a charming boy. But you have to trust me. I won’t jeopardize his long-term health, just take advantage of reality for his sake and the sake of our plans for him.” As she said this, she winked at Jack discreetly and took a drag on her ciggy.
“Yes, Mother,” Lindsay replied with a little more emphasis, as she leaned her head on Memoria’s leg and her eyes shifted to Jack. “I trust you, Mother.”
They both paused like that, looking at him, with Memoria gently petting Lindsay’s hair in idle fondness.
They’re closer than I realized. Lindsay is probably more like one of the Central Processing people. Agent Boiler. Yeah. That’s who she is, first and foremost.
Jack opened his mouth-
“Unless, of course,” Memoria interjected, “Jack wants to take the matter to the PMWO as a complaint against his mental health and such.”
Jack raised his head, once again a weak representation of him jumping up to attention. “Hell no! I ain’t bitchin’ out! Bring it.” Why did I say that again?
Memoria smiled from ear to ear.
Lindsay sighed and rolled her eyes. “She made me say that, by the way.”
Memoria turned her eyes down to Lindsay with mild admonishment, like ‘really?’ Lindsay pretended not to see it as she pursed her lips.
Jack snorted. “Okay, so it was a manipulative phrase meant to push my buttons. It still applies, though.” He took a breath and lay his head back to look up at the distant ceiling, collecting his thoughts. “I will do whatever it takes to get strong as quickly as possible. Push me to my damned limits, then! I won’t resist it. I believe you wouldn’t care so much unless it was important. And that must mean it’s important for humanity. I believe that must mean Neex, Quallakuloth, and the Deucalians. Somehow.”
Memoria muttered, “Yes, I’ve got the area secured for sensitive discussion, thanks for asking…”
“You aren’t seeing everything, Jack,” Lindsay said softly. “You ultimately can’t, yet.”
He turned back to regard her. “But I need to. Right? Another reason I have to earn my coat as quickly as possible. And you can’t give it to me, I have to earn it. I wouldn’t want you to, anyway.”
Lindsay squinted her eyes at him and shook her head slightly. “Could you dial down the bravado just a teensy bit?” She made a sign with her forefinger and thumb close together for emphasis.
Memoria chuckled. “I don’t think he can, it’s just how he’s made. My spirited boy! Made to be a warrior, just as Neexolei insisted.”
Jack met Memoria’s eerie eyes. “There’s still all the hubbub about Shaper of Metal, too. I guess that’s another factor in the attention I’m being paid.”
“Do you like it, though?” Lindsay asked. “The attention.”
“From various attractive women?” Jack grinned. “Of course.”
Lindsay rolled her eyes again, but this time with her face cracking a bit with amusement.
Memoria shook her head and ‘tsked.’ “What am I going to do with you two? Way too much strong character mixing together. In any case, yes, that’s something you must consider, Jack. I told you to make the deduction yourself.”
Jack nodded slowly. He glanced between the two of them staring back at him. “A large part of it is the range thing. Isn’t it? The Primary Mutation quality, the distance-from-Archon penalty reduction.”
Both feminine faces were playing poker. Memoria cocked an eyebrow and asked, “And why do you say that?”
“As limited as my information is, I’ve seen ANPs weaker and struggling on the borders with my own eyes, when they are killing machines closer to home. I’ve seen an alien's tech not work right in our territory, and I’ve noticed that Neex is probably a decent level yet has been weak while here, even engineered her heart-like artifact to temporarily improve her connection. And those territorial bands of an Archon exist for a reason. Maybe I’m off base and this kind of thing is just uncommon, but I’m betting it’s actually very rare.”
Memoria had a blank expression a moment longer. She took a drag of her cigarette and blew out smoke. Then she smiled suddenly and nodded. “Very good, Jack. You’re right: it’s rare. It’s not the only factor, and you’ve got no chance at guessing the rest, so don’t worry yourself over it right now. All in due time. All in earned and relevant time. But yes. You could help with very potent operations past the borders. Exciting, hmm? Keep pushing hard to be an elite, Jack. You have to become one. That’s an order.”
“Understood, Mother.” Potent operations? Spec Ops for sure. Real action. Relevant action. Righteous!
Lindsay sighed. “As long as you don’t get spoiled rotten with all this specialness. You’re not that special.”
“Real rich coming from the most spoiled rotten brat in all of New Babylon.”
After a false expression of shock, Lindsay flung a spray of dirt at him. “And the cutest!”
Jack closed his eyes and held up a hand against the attack. “See?! A complete brat!” He then summoned enough energy to retaliate with his own backhand scooping fling of dirt, perhaps too extensive. Lindsay averted her face to the blast and then had the nerve to look at him as though authentically surprised at ‘bad behavior.’
“Now, now, children,” Memoria chided wanly, “stop slinging dirt at each other. Jack is honestly hysterical with fatigue, but I’m not sure what your excuse is, Agent Boiler. He needs to cool down for a couple of hours at the minimum, so I don’t want to see any wrestling or other escalating rough-housing, either.”
“Sorry, Mother,” Lindsay muttered quickly in embarrassment, as she rose and dusted the dirt off of her uniform. Becoming the picture of dignity like lightning, she regarded Memoria anew. “How often do you expect these sorts of tests, Mother?”
“Not often.” She shifted her gaze to study Jack, puffing once more on her ciggy. She knelt down in front of him and reached over to stick the ciggy in his mouth. Jack obliged to breathe it in deeply, figuring he needed it. As usual, his lungs absorbed most of it, but a bit of smoke came out as he exhaled.
Memoria smiled at him supportively. “Every other day. Early, at the peak of his focus. But, Jack, you can use your full energy just as an agent is supposed to: to be at your most extreme at the end, when everything goes to shit. Those critical points in time when your body begs for it, flooding you with adrenaline. Obey it. Train toward it. The pain is your guide, the kind that can’t be mitigated or ignored. Brain and body at once. Understand what your limits are through that.”
She took the ciggy and puffed on it again before returning it to him. She blew out a gust of butane-scented smoke. “Listen close, my boy. There is an echo you’ll hear when you push too far. It’s the strain, like vibrations through the tech’s framework, coming back to jar and damage your brain. Do not push any further when you begin to hear it. Or don’t unless you’re prepared to deal yourself permanent damage. To make a sacrifice with great costs, for something that had better be worth it. Make no mistake that you’ll be judged on it.”
Staring into those pale eyes, doorways into the closest thing humanity had to deity… being in the presence of The One With All The Answers, Jack couldn’t help himself. “Is that what she did? Screamer.”
Memoria’s face darkened as her eyes dropped briefly. That was disturbing in itself — the Archon did not avert her gaze often. When she returned it to his eyes a moment later, she seemed solemn. “Yes, Jack. A terrible sacrifice to do so much so far from me. She should’ve fallen out right there, but she couldn’t do that, either. She couldn’t burden those she hoped to save. For love, for the salvation of her friends, she made that choice and saw it out with as much grit as any human being has mustered in this cruel world. She screamed in more agony than she’d ever dealt via her powers and soldiered on through great suffering.”
“Was it the right choice?”
Memoria cocked her head and studied his face. She shook her head slightly. “Objectively? Inconclusive. She made an assessment that she had to act to get people away in time, and so she acted. Perhaps it was necessary, perhaps not.”
“And right in terms of right and wrong?”
“That’s the answer I never have, Jack. Deduce for yourself.”
What he truly, desperately wanted to know was on the tip of his tongue. Dare he ask? But it flew out without restraint. “Is she alive, Mother?”
He was certain he saw an authentic ripple of conflicting emotion cross over the Archon’s face right then, caught between convention and compassion. Ultimately, Memoria held his eyes and gave a quick, gentle smile without showing her teeth. “Yes, son. She is.”
Jack felt relief from a tremendous pressure inside him that had been pent up for years. His eyes welled and so he turned his head away, back to the ceiling. Took a deep breath. When he blinked, they fell from his eyes, though. “Thank the sky.”
That day, that escape. It meant something. One of them, at least, still goes on. The girl who risked her neck just to put a headset on my ears. The girl who dealt herself brain damage to save everyone. The girl who was never meant for this shit, but accounted herself among the bravest of all of us.
He wanted to ask about the big one. About Vim. He was scared to, for one, because he knew the likely answer. The last Jack had seen, he’d been all but dead. On top of it, he felt selfish, indulgent — guilty — to pry the answer he did from the highest authority of all humanity. What right did Jack Laker, Junior Agent Exemplar, have to such sensitive intel?
The coat. When I have the coat. When I’m an ANP. Then I can believe it. That’s when I’ll face the truth for good.
Memoria patted his shoulder and gave it a squeeze before she stood back up. “Welp! I’m going now. Other matters to compute. Good job, both of you. Keep it up.”
“Do you promise not to eavesdrop all the time?” Jack asked wanly.
“You can believe that.” Without another word, she walked off. Jack expected to see her disappear suddenly. Instead, she just kept strolling with her hands in her pockets, idly whistling some tune, on her way toward some trees.
He glanced at Lindsay, who seemed lost in her own thoughts, arms crossed at her stomach. Jack closed his eyes and enjoyed his smoke, still not strong enough to stand.
Lindsay lay down next to him in the dirt, her arm just touching his. Silently, he offered the ciggy Memoria gave him, and she stared at it for a spell before taking it and having a couple of puffs. She blew smoke out and then held it up for a while without smoking… so Jack went to take it back. She flicked it out of reach at the last second. He did a ‘tch’ and shook his head as she took another drag.
They watched a young teen boy in a white jumpsuit fly high overhead. They didn’t react. It was a common occurrence. Jack had seen him before. Briefly talked to him, even, but forgot his name.
“You know,” Lindsay said as she blew out smoke and held up the half-reduced cigarette, looking at it, “I still wonder every time she gives one out, if it’s even real. Or if it's just a lie, a clever simulation, from beginning to end. Is that logical?”
“I think it’s reasonable,” Jack replied. “Because of her own claims. But doesn’t the cigarette have to be, if it gives us the juice? Biological effects. Speaking of which-”
“Not if we just imagine it due to the strong placebo effect. Just the act itself is relaxing. Charging.”
“Yes, now pass it ov-”
“And the smell! The smell alone could drive us, and that’s not hard for her to fake.”
“Lindsay, give me the-”
“Who could resist this satisfying, impulsive act?” She took a long drag and blew out. “So good.”
Jack glared at her. When her hand came up, he twisted to first grasp her wrist and take the remains of the cigarette with his other hand. With a smirk on her face, Lindsay didn’t resist and let him take it.
“Absolute brat.” Jack took a satisfying puff of what remained of the ciggy. “Hogging my gift like a greedy pig! After I just shared it out of the kindness of my heart. Unbelievable.”
“Jack…”
Her tone made him turn his head, and she was looking at him seriously, head sideways. He raised an eyebrow. “Yeah?”
“Be careful.”
Jack paused as he held her eyes. He knew what she had to be referring to. The ‘amp ups.’ He tried to give a reassuring nod. “I will. I promise. As soon as I feel that echo, I’ll stop. Just like she said.”
She searched his face and nodded slowly. Finally, she turned her head back upward and said, “I’m not going to say, ‘please,’ either.”
“Right, that would just be unprofessional.” Thick sarcasm.
“Exactly.”
“So. Agent Boiler…”
“What about it?”
“Does everyone call you that?”
“You think you’re really special, huh? Sole beneficiary of my homo sapien first name?”
“I am the specialest boy around. But no. I’m sure you and your family are tight and use it.”
“We keep in touch, though there is always a certain divide. We’re all busy a lot. Food is our unifier. Holidays. Anyway, not every homo superior throws their given name on the fire. I’m one of those with a split name and handle. Yeah, sure, I opted to start out with a stranger saying something a bit more personal, but my friends call me Lindsay. I did that because you were lacking a handle, wanted you to feel comfortable, and was pretty confident we’d become close.”
“A shame that didn’t work out.”
“Pfff. I’d punch you in the shoulder for that, but you might pass out.”
“Try me, Shifu. Just try me.”
“Shut up! Masochist!”
Jack chuckled and took one of the final drags of Schrödinger's Cigarette. “Still don’t know what I’ll pick for a handle.”
“Mmn. Take your time.”
“You say that, but I should probably prepare before someone’s on my damned back about it. Need a code name to be mission-ready, right?”
“Preferably. But others have years to consider it, getting a feel for what they can do slowly before they can ever even think about earning a coat.”
“That just makes it the same as everything else for me.” He finished off the cigarette, blew a bit of smoke out, and smushed the fire of it out in the dirt. He closed his eyes and prepared to turn his brain off. “I’m the phoenix reborn in the pit like a flash…”
Lindsay snorted in amusement. “Get a load of this guy with his fancy, hubris-centered mythological analogies. Where’s the bright feathers, Jack? Hmm? Some drip, at least? Gonna need you to strut and peacock more with talk like that.”
“Would you cut me a break? I’m hysterical, remember? Ugh… so tired…” He kept his eyes closed and heard Lindsay scoff, rise, and almost certainly walk off to have some phone time. He drifted off.
. . .
Recovered to [Serious] Fatigue Status. You are low on unbound NPs — please consume water, food, and NPs to avoid consumption of developmental energy stores. Rest is still suggested.
Jack woke with a start while still lying in the dirt, sitting up and squinting a bit in the relative glare of light.
Mini deliberately woke me up to eat?
His stomach growled as if agreeing with Mini. He sniffed the air, smelling food. Lindsay was nowhere to be seen, but there was a chair with a to-go box on it and a drink sitting in the dirt.
Jack pushed himself up and shuffled over to take the food container, and plopped into the chair. He grabbed the drink and drained half of it through the straw. Infused cherry limeade. Refreshing.
There was a Mem-text in his head from her as well. <Eat, rest, eat some more, and we’ll pick up later. I’ve adjusted your schedule. So you know, you did really well at your level to take out two razorenas. And that big alpha was what is known now as a Peripheral Remnant, or P-Rem for short. You might also call it an AE, an Anomalous Entity, but this is more generic code for any unnatural or unknown thing.
P-Rems are the weird monsters you hear about in Antarctica. They’re border entities disconnected from an Archon. They can’t exist very long in Memorial territory, so they’re pushed to the outskirts. Adaptation made their cousins more resistant and natural inside the territory over time, but they’ve survived bigger and badder outside it. Maybe endangered these days, but they still exist. That was a level 3 or 4 matchup there. You were screwed.
Nice maneuver with the eye gouge. Not feasible against students in duels, but certainly feasible against AEs.
Well, that’s all. See you later, alligator!>
Hmm. Peripheral Remnant. Anomalous Entity. P-Rem. AE. The acronym spam continues. I shouldn’t be surprised that that thing is real. I’ve seen worse and heard all sorts of stories from the borders. To think, my furthest out is still inside them. Fort Circe was out there, but not Outside There out there. Maybe I would have heard about these things in more detail if I had ranked up as a pilot and increased my clearance.
Jack devoured his lunch — Infused carbonara — as he pondered his encounter with Memoria and Lindsay. The Archon could just show up there, anywhere, with apparent full physicality. Something like powerful holograms? Maybe not much different than the simulations he fought.
He started to get a weird vibe in his head as he considered Lindsay and her bringing up the cigarette. It began to verge into something he could self-analyze as a bit paranoid.
Lindsay as a complex simulation? No way. Frag me, but it might be possible… highly dedicated, personal attention. Contouring her abilities, even her personality, to some degree around me. I could see- no. This is dumb. What am I thinking? Damn it, brain! She has a family, a history. People know her. She’s on a wall. Augur mentioned her. What, he’s a simulation, too? It’s all just a big hallucination? Come on, Jack! Enough with the solipsism!
It was just hard to shake the assumption of control and manipulation from the boundless pragmatism of Memoria. She’d offered an agent as a permanent ‘mate’ assignment to his dad. She wasn’t at all above such a thing.
Her agents could all be created simulations. Like Agent Bermuda. How would I know? It’s pointless. One could ask the same question about life in general. Well, maybe if I could see them beyond the borders of Memorial territory? But they likely would never go there normally.
Finishing his food and fishing with the straw for the last of the liquid delight that was his drink, Jack sighed at his internally embarrassing bout with self-centeredness.
“Hey, Mini,” he spoke within himself, “this was all confidential, right? Memoria doesn’t know I’m thinking this dumb shit?”
“I have no right or motive to share those thoughts, Jack,” Mini replied flatly. “In fact, it’s pointless to try. She is blocked from non-pertinent things, so I’d be talking to a wall. It literally cannot cross her consciousness until you offer it up, by contract. Not that it would matter that much. She’s seen and heard it all throughout history.”
“Would she do it, Mini? Are Lindsay or Agent Bermuda simulations? Bah. As if you’d tell me, anyway. I need more sleep…”
“I don’t have the respected status enough to reassure you, Jack. My answer is meaningless to you and veers into opinionated philosophy outside my specialty. Consider a counselor, perhaps? A Memorial Daughter applies. You can have confidential conversations with them, and they literally cannot leak anything beyond threats to the species.”
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Comments
Al
Meh, already tried of earn info. Hoping there's a good reason for that nonsense
