StarFall Comics
A Division of Pullemouttayerhat Productions
A Wholly-Owned Subsidiary of StarFall Innovations
In conjunction with (s)Low Budget Productions
Proudly Presents:
Swamp Patrol
#10: Brief Glimpses, Quiet Whispers
cover: (none described)
"Pennsylvania? Why would I want to go to Pennsylvania?" Marie asked, staring at her older brother in disbelief.
"Cause that's where my new job is, that's why."
"But I don't want to leave!"
"Look, Marie. Since mom and dad died I've had to look after you. That's not going to change now, even if we have to move. There's no work for me here anymore, and there's a place in Pennsylvania that wants to hire me. We need the money, and until you're eighteen you've got to go where I do."
"It's not fair. Billy was going to ask me to the school dance, I'm sure of it, and now - "
"You can go to the school dance. We aren't leaving till the end of the week. And there will be other Billies, better ones, in Pennsylvania."
Marie's vision clouded with tears. "I hate you! I wish you had died instead of mom and dad!"
Michael watched his kid sister storm from the room, then buried his head in his hands.
How would he tell her?
You've never had a computer hooked directly into your brain, let alone a dozen. Never felt the unbelievable impotence of watching data fly past at speeds and volumes you could never have previously conceived, doing things you didn't want to, not from threats or coercion but because you simply did them, with no say in the matter whatsoever. You've never been so subjugated that to cry was impossible, to speak out alien.
Carter Stevens has.
He floats in the nutrient bath, classified information being downloaded into his brain with the same ease as one would download this story. He doesn't want to do this, but his own hubris drove him here. He thought he could use his fortune to cheat death - not his own, but his wife's - and instead he became wetware, an organic component in a mad scientist's supercomputer.
Even if he could laugh, he wouldn't.
When asked to describe a suitably heroic activity for superhuman crimefighters, the man on the street would likely not select breaking and entering as his first choice. Yet, as we near our protagonists, we find them freshly returned from just such an excursion.
"Well, that went particularly poorly," Brill said.
Ted leaned forward in his chair. "What do you mean? We found Stevens, and he was the one behind those burglaries."
"Yeah, but did you see what had happened to him?" Pete countered. "That Doctor Kay messed him up real bad. And we let him, and his sidekick or whatever she was, get away. And we still haven't caught up to Alley Cat."
Ted sat back, glowering. "Well, I think we did just fine. Somebody was stealing things, we caught the guy responsible. So what if he's stuck in some sort of computer-network thing. The important part is we caught him."
"You just don't understand, do you, Ted? The greater villain got away, and simply because we weren't fast enough to act."
"Hey, you people are the ones who always tell me to think things through, not to be so impulsive. And now I didn't act fast enough? Go to Hell." Ted got up and left the room angrily.
"Ted, wait!" Donna shouted, running after him.
She caught up to him in the hallway and caught hold of his arm. "Ted, what's the matter? You've been edgy for weeks now, and it's just getting worse all the time."
"Why should you care?" Ted responded, angrily jerking his arm from her grasp. "Why should anyone care?" he added under his breath.
"Because we're your friends, that's why!" Donna said. "I - we - don't want to see anything happen to you."
"Well then you better look away, 'cause something already has. Or didn't you notice the way I shoot those blasts out of anything handy?"
"Yeah..."
He could see the confusion in her face. He opened his mouth to say something to her, then shut it violently and stormed off.
Hefloatsaloneinhischamber,dataflowingaroundandintohiminamannerthatdefiesdescript ion.Hismindhasbeenchangingsincehistransformation,growingfurtherfromthehumannorma ndclosertosomepreviouslyunknownmannerofperception,equalpartsmanandcomputerandget tingmorecomputerbythenanosecond.Alreadyhesees,interprets,andmanipulatesdatainway sordinarypeoplecouldn'tevendreamof.Howlongbeforehelosestouchwithhishumansidealto gether?Aday?Two?Perhapsaweekoramonth?Hehasnowayofknowing,and,perhapsworse,doesn' tevenhavethedesiretoknow.Hesimplysits,andthinks,andlooksforwardtothedaywhentheco mputeressencesupplantshishumanpersonaandhenolongerhurts.
"Hey, Inspector," Frank said. "How're things going at the station?"
Inspector Carruthers looked up from his paperwork. "Don't you have a class to attend or something?"
"Nope, they let us out early today, so I thought I'd drop by and see how things were going, if you had any more need of your ghostly friends."
Carruthers' eyes darted around the room. "Keep your voice down," he whispered. "Or would you like to be identified as one of the rogue vigilantes who got involved in police business repeatedly? Not all of my associates here would take as kindly to your assistance as I do."
"Relax, relax," Frank said, smiling and perching on the edge of Carruthers' desk. "There's nothing to worry about."
Carruthers exhaled slowly. "Alright. What do you want?"
"I was just wondering if there was anything you needed help on."
"Well, you could get me some coffee," Carruthers said, leaning back in his chair. Frank grimaced.
"That's not what I meant."
"I know. Here, I'll tell you what you can do. Find that nutcase that turned Stevens into a living computer. How's that sound?"
"I'll get right on it, Chief!" Frank said, leaving the room, a smile on his face.
"And don't call me Chief!" Carruthers shouted at Franks back.
Doctor Kay sat at his breakfast table, sipping his morning coffee and reading the paper.
"Look here, Stacey," he said, pointing out a newspaper article to the young woman who sat across the table from him. "It's a story about those brats who tried to capture us at Stevens' house."
"Really? What does it say?"
Kay snickered. "Surprisingly little. It would appear they have almost as much a desire for secrecy as we do."
Stacey got up, taking her dishes to the sink. "More coffee, father?"
Kay shook his head. "No, thank you. Too much caffeine makes you jittery, and I must be in top form today."
Stacey started to wash her dishes. "Will you be desiring my assistance, father?"
"Not just yet, Stacey. Perhaps in a few hours. But right now, I'm perfectly capable of accomplishing my goals alone. You may go to your room and read, if you so choose."
"Thank you, father," Stacey said, finishing her dishes and putting them away. "I will." She left the kitchen and walked steadily up the stairs as her father went about cleaning up his dishes.
"Such a lovely child. A lovely child," he said to himself. "It's such a shame."
-----------------------------------------------+-----------------------------
It wasn't fair, what Kay had done to| Tricking the kids was very
him. |clever, he had to admit.
-----------------------+-----------------------+------------+----------------
But it him very mad.| They were supposed to SSAAVVEE | But Kay had
made | him SSAAVVEE him.|t r i c k e d
-----------------------+------------------------------------+ t h e m.
It wasn't |= _ .|) | a r +-------+--------
| /=\||\ . fair f i fffffffaaaaaaaiiiiiiirrrrrrr|itwasn't
--------------------------------------------------------------------+--------
"Fair is foul and foul is fair."
"I never could get this Macbeth play," Pete said. "I mean, the guy's got more stuff than we could ever dream of, but he still wants more. Granted, if I were in his shoes, there'd be things I'd want, like indoor plumbing - heck, any plumbing - but I just can't see anyone doing what he does."
"It's called blinding ambition," Frank said. "The same thing that drives a man like Doctor Kay. Now be quiet, I've got a test on this tomorrow." The two of them sat in silence for several minutes, Frank watching the video like it was his only chance off of Death Row, Pete like he'd rather be watching Skid Row. Just as Macbeth went in pursuit of an illusory dagger, Pete broke the silence.
"Doesn't Doctor Kay sound like he should have an adjective? You know, like The Infamous Doctor K or something? Nah, actually, that makes him sound too much like a James Bond villain. Or a rapper."
"Be QUIET!" Frank hissed. "I'm trying to watch this movie."
"Shouldn't you have read the book or something?"
Pete narrowly ducked a suddenly airborne remote control.
"Alright, alright, I give. I'll be quiet."
"Good morning, Stevens," Kay said. "How are things?"
"File: Chance Encounter. Download: 78% complete. Estimated time of completion: 11:30 AM." The voice seemed even more monotone than yesterday, which pleased Kay. It meant the minor resistance Stevens' personality had been putting up was wearing out, and soon the computer would be functioning at full capacity.
"Thank you, Stevens. When Chance Encounter has finished download, I want you to erase all traces of your visit to AmInTech."
"Confirm: Erase all traces of computer access to AmInTech."
"Yes."
"Acknowledged. Estimated time of total erasure: 11:43 AM."
"Excellent. Thank you, Stevens."
"Freak. Monster. Abomination."
Ted was at the edge of the swamp, not far from the city.
"Disgrace. Creep. Idiot."
He couldn't say what had brought him here, to this land so far for being so close. It would be easy to walk into the swamp and never come back. Back to the accusing eyes, the muttered curses, the hatred.
How did they know? He was careful to keep it a secret...wasn't he? Could they see it in him, was it branded on his forehead like the mark of the beast, on his hand maybe? Or had his mother told them, spread it around, trying to make sure everyone knew it wasn't *her* fault her son was a freak
"Blasphemy. Hellspawn."
of nature, it must have been his fault, his choice, because she hadn't done it.
Had he done it? Maybe in his sleep, or his idle daydreams, he had made a deal, a deal with the Devil, Satan himself, the Great Deceiver. Trading his soul for...
What? Not for the powers, for the feeling of being a freak, an outcast, worse than a leper because there was no Christ to heal him.
For fame? He wouldn't want fame as a freak.
Respect? No one would respect him now. Love? Who would love him?
Power? Not powers, but power? The thought had never occured to him before (or had it?)...but no, power would do him no good. What could he do?
re
Was that a voice?
nou
nce.
He looked around...no one was there...but the whispers? He thought they were whispers, at least...
ren |
ounce |
?
renounce
It was there that time, loud enough that there was no doubt in his mind that someone was talking, someone he could not see, who was not there.
Spooked, Ted decided to head for home. Wherever that was.