MF1.0 - 50 - Resurface

Stef’s afternoon managed to be uneventful – more practice in the gym, retrieving Frankie from Jones, avoiding much contact with the other recruits.

She had discovered that her room did have internet access now – the speed was beyond compare, but that didn’t stop her from having thirty tabs in three browsers open at once. Old habits died hard, if they died at all.

The data kept calling to her. It was like a siren song.

She opened the data back up, and started to sift through it. It made so much more sense now that it had a true context. It didn’t tell her any more than she already knew, but it was reassuring to see the fruits of her labours.

Most of the data was concerning pathing, chaos, the trip between world, predictions of landing spots. All of that was unimportant, Jones knew when and where the mirror was going to fall.

She started to look at the non-specific data, parameters, she assumed had more to do with the Beast than his Belle. It was interesting, containing recurring patterns, cycling information and strange bit of data she’d never seen before.

It was…

She closed the lid on Frankie and ran from her room. The quick magic lift didn’t seem this time. She punched the button for the tech level, then began to pace the floor. Ideas always felt like explosions in her mind, and right now her mind felt like a minefield.

She clutched the laptop to her chest and banged on Jones’ door. No answer.

Something hit her foot, she looked down and saw a radio controlled car. Crouching to pick it up, she snapped her hand back when it gave her a shock. ‘Cute,’ she muttered and knocked on the door again.

A pair of goggles appeared beside her. ‘He’s not in there.’ The pair of goggles was attached to a boy that was somehow shorter than she was. ‘He’s in the common room. Klaatu Barada Nikto.’

She grinned. ‘Good to know all those years spent practicing to look like Gort didn’t go to waste.’

The goggles smiled. ‘Oooh, one of us…’ He grabbed her hand and dragged her down the hall. ‘What’s his/her name?’ he asked with an exaggerated gesture at the laptop.

‘Prometheus. But I call him Frankie.’

The goggles nodded. ‘Nice.’ He pushed open the door to the common room. Inside was a plasma screen half the size of the back wall, with a game paused on the screen.

The walls were covered in posters and printouts. There was a green couch, a purple couch and a rainbow couch with half a dozen recruits lounging on them. Another stood in front of the TV arguing with Jones about something.

<p style="color:rgb(189,190,190);font-family:Verdana,'CenturyGothic',Tahoma,sans-serif;line-height:normal;">Goggles whistled and everyone turned. The lounging recruits turned away after brief waves and smiles, Jones handed what looked like a hybrid controller over to the recruit he had been arguing with and walked over.

<p style="color:rgb(189,190,190);font-family:Verdana,'CenturyGothic',Tahoma,sans-serif;line-height:normal;">‘What can I do for you recruit?’

<p style="color:rgb(189,190,190);font-family:Verdana,'CenturyGothic',Tahoma,sans-serif;line-height:normal;">‘Something…can you tell me what the game is first?’

<p style="color:rgb(189,190,190);font-family:Verdana,'CenturyGothic',Tahoma,sans-serif;line-height:normal;">‘It’s a side project, the coding for a fight simulator in this format has real-time applications and may lead to the creation of new training simulations.’

<p style="color:rgb(189,190,190);font-family:Verdana,'CenturyGothic',Tahoma,sans-serif;line-height:normal;">‘The graphics are shiny…’

<p style="color:rgb(189,190,190);font-family:Verdana,'CenturyGothic',Tahoma,sans-serif;line-height:normal;">Goggles giggled. ‘Shiny Entertainment doesn’t have anything on us. Save the world and make video games, that’s why tech recruits never leave.’

<p style="color:rgb(189,190,190);font-family:Verdana,'CenturyGothic',Tahoma,sans-serif;line-height:normal;">Jones looked to her. ‘You’re welcome to join in, it would be worthy of your talents, but for now, what’s wrong?’

<p style="color:rgb(189,190,190);font-family:Verdana,'CenturyGothic',Tahoma,sans-serif;line-height:normal;">She looked down at Frankie. ‘Can you use the data from last night to track the monster?’

<p style="color:rgb(189,190,190);font-family:Verdana,'CenturyGothic',Tahoma,sans-serif;line-height:normal;">‘The leech’s parameters? Of course. He was off the radar though, the last time I checked.’

<p style="color:rgb(189,190,190);font-family:Verdana,'CenturyGothic',Tahoma,sans-serif;line-height:normal;">‘How is that possible?’

<p style="color:rgb(189,190,190);font-family:Verdana,'CenturyGothic',Tahoma,sans-serif;line-height:normal;">‘The Solstice…have ways of making blackout zones. We can’t see into these places, and we don’t venture into them. They keep their prisoners inside these areas, as to make retrieval impossible.’

<p style="color:rgb(189,190,190);font-family:Verdana,'CenturyGothic',Tahoma,sans-serif;line-height:normal;">Goggles tapped her on the shoulder. ‘We do ok in the first three, but we can’t fight the fourth.’

<p style="color:rgb(189,190,190);font-family:Verdana,'CenturyGothic',Tahoma,sans-serif;line-height:normal;">‘Dimensions?’ she asked. ‘They’re using…time?’

<p style="color:rgb(189,190,190);font-family:Verdana,'CenturyGothic',Tahoma,sans-serif;line-height:normal;">Goggles nodded. ‘They’ve got their own little time machine. David Kane’s kid. Reason for about half a dozen conspiracies.’

<p style="color:rgb(189,190,190);font-family:Verdana,'CenturyGothic',Tahoma,sans-serif;line-height:normal;">‘Can you show me how to track him using this data?’

<p style="color:rgb(189,190,190);font-family:Verdana,'CenturyGothic',Tahoma,sans-serif;line-height:normal;">Jones’ smile faded a little. ‘Why would you want to track him?’

<p style="color:rgb(189,190,190);font-family:Verdana,'CenturyGothic',Tahoma,sans-serif;line-height:normal;">‘Someone told me he’s an interesting story, and it’s not over yet.’

<p style="color:rgb(189,190,190);font-family:Verdana,'CenturyGothic',Tahoma,sans-serif;line-height:normal;">‘May I?’ he said, reaching for the laptop. She passed over Frankie, and watched as he propped the computer on the top of the purple couch. It quickly came back to life, and he laid a hand on the keyboard. ‘The tracking program is now loaded.’ He double-clicked the new icon and loaded the data.

<p style="color:rgb(189,190,190);font-family:Verdana,'CenturyGothic',Tahoma,sans-serif;line-height:normal;">It cycled for a moment, then loaded. A blue and black map of the city appeared, it zoomed and resized itself as Jones typed. Dozens of red circles of varying sizes appeared. ‘Those are the blackout zones. Some are as small a building, some are entire city blocks.’

<p style="color:rgb(189,190,190);font-family:Verdana,'CenturyGothic',Tahoma,sans-serif;line-height:normal;">‘And the monster?’

<p style="color:rgb(189,190,190);font-family:Verdana,'CenturyGothic',Tahoma,sans-serif;line-height:normal;">Jones pointed to a faintly pulsing orange dot. ‘It appears he has resurfaced. You should inform Ryan of this.’