Authors: Kathy Bell
“
I know your type; you
just have to walk in the room to get anything you want, take
everything you want with no consequences and no consideration of
other people. It makes me sick to think you could have access to
all the benefits of the hard work done by Three Eleven and the
executive, without having earned the right to it. All the rest of
us spent lifetimes labouring in our fields, working toward November
11. For God’s sake, you didn’t contribute a thing to the first time
around, why should you gain anything from the second?”
“
Didn’t contribute a
thing! So, having children, perpetuating the human race is not
contributing anything? It amazes me all of you men who are
supposedly working to save the world have never fathered a child,
never held a new life in your arms and realized the incredible
responsibility inherent in bringing new life into the world. How
can you have any concept of the value of life when you haven’t even
lived it. You sit in your ivory tower of an office or lab, making
decisions affecting the lives of millions, but have no perspective
on what those lives entail, what those people value. I have lived a
life more meaningful, more real and more important than any of you
have cared to realize. You measure intrinsic value by educational
level and had you bothered to ask you would have realized I even
have that. But, that is not what I value about my previous life. I
experienced life. I did amazing things. I made differences. That’s
why I’m here, to balance the sterility of the lives of all of you,
the executive. To ensure you don’t blow it all with your prejudice.
It makes me sick when I think of the fact you cannot see me for who
and what I am because you cannot get past your own
insecurities.”
She stalked away, taking a seat in
another section of the craft. Her guitar was on board, thinking if
necessary she could demonstrate the songs Greg Travers had stolen
to ‘refresh his memory’. She picked up the instrument and began to
strum one of her favourite angry songs, the music having a
cathartic effect on her as always while she sang the bitter lyrics.
Norton came up behind her. She stopped playing to look up at him,
steeling herself for another barrage. His face was
unreadable.
“
You play very
well.”
“
I played for years in
the original timeline.”
“
I’ve always really
liked that song you were playing.” He sighed and took the seat
across from her. “One thing I miss from the first timeline is the
music. The incredible depth and feeling, there really is nothing
like it right now…except NRG has taken that sound and introduced it
to the world.”
“
The bands from the
West Coast had the greatest influence, in my mind, and those are
the songs I end up playing most of the time. I have quite a
repertoire, would you like me to play something specific?” This was
as close to a truce as she and Norton might venture and decided to
play it for all it was worth.
“
Do you know “Your
Reasons” by Sundown?”
She began to play, knowing the
song well. He listened intently, closing his eyes with pleasure as
she flew through the difficult chord sequence of the
chorus.
“
I love
acoustic.”
“
It changes the feel
of the music, makes it more personal. My family always had jam
sessions, five or six of us would bring instruments to every family
event. Do you play?”
“
No, I love music but
couldn’t sing or play a note if my life depended on it. Don’t take
this wrong…I don’t mean this as a slight against you…not one of the
regressees has any musical talent; we are the most tone deaf group
of men I have ever heard of. It is like all of our talent and
energy has been completely directed towards our intellectual growth
in our fields, leaving nothing else for any other area.”
“
Are you familiar with
Gardner’s Theory of Multiple Intelligences?”
“
Yes, I took an
introductory psychology course. You subscribe to it?”
“
I think it’s often
supported in practice, some people are good in a few areas but not
others. Some are good across all. Everyone has one area they can
excel in. Recognizing which areas you are competent in can take
some personal introspection, too often people try to be something
they are not.”
“
What are you good
at?”
“
I don’t think this is
the right time to answer that question. This truce is working and I
don’t want to see it end. Shall I play another song for you? How
about “This Day” by Cramped Style?”
“
Okay, I’ll let you
off the hook this time because I want you to keep on playing. But I
think you owe it to all of us to straighten us out on who you
really are. You accuse us of not asking you about your background
but you are just as guilty by not sharing it. What exactly do you
think is in your background which would make you a contributor to
saving the world? You say you think you are here by design and not
by accident, so…what do you bring?”
She cocked an eyebrow at him.
“Hmm, do you really want to go there right now?”
“
Yes.”
“
I’ll tell you my
theory if you tell me yours.”
“
What do you mean by
that?”
“
What do you think is
going to happen on November 11, 2011?”
“
Does it matter what I
think?”
“
Of course it does,
every one of us has valuable insight to contribute. This is exactly
what frustrates me so much when dealing with many of you…the
dismissal of ideas and suggestions just because of the person who
made them. Have none of you ever worked as part of a
team?”
“
We’re a team right
now.”
“
No, you’re a bunch of
people working in your own little departments who share a common
goal and occasional meetings but are otherwise autonomous. Who do
you ask for feedback before making your decisions in your
department?”
“
I…well, I do bring
those decisions to the meetings.”
“
Does anyone ever
comment or do they all just rubber stamp? I haven’t heard much
interaction during those meetings, just reporting.”
“
You have a point. I
sometimes don’t even bother bringing up my initiatives because it
seems like the others dismiss them right away, not interested in
what I’m doing because they’re focused on their own
announcements.”
“
This is my point.
Team building needs to happen so all of us…I really do need to stop
saying me and you, we’re all working together hopefully…all of us
need to actually care and contribute to each other’s work and value
the outside perspective which can sometimes see what we miss when
thinking within the confines of our own scope of knowledge. I would
like to see some changes in that respect. When was the last time
you were at Sanctum? Or the T.E.S.C. labs? I know you leave the
Island for your own department work but have you seen anyone else’s
since your original orientation?”
“
No.”
“
Anyone visited
you?”
“
No.”
“
I think that’s part
of the reason why I’m here. I don’t have a single area of expertise
and as such can view the whole picture, the combined efforts of all
the initiatives for which the whole is greater than the sum of the
parts. The synergy. I can see it from the outside without focusing
on how one part, a pet project, fits into the greater
efforts.”
Norton opened his mouth to reply
when the plane jolted on the runway. He glanced out the window and
then turned back to her.
“
We should finish this
discussion later. Let’s go find our musician.” They disembarked,
the waiting car quickly shuttling them to the venue for the
concert.
Scalpers ranged outside the doors
of the building. Norton finally conceded he would get tickets no
other way and purchased two front row centre tickets for five times
the printed face value. They made their way to the seats, hoping
the tickets were not fraudulent and relieved to find the seats were
vacant. A cover band opened the concert, the fans in the crowd
moving with techno keyboardist and the raspy vocals. Adya smiled
broadly at Norton. He leaned close to her ear, yelling.
“
We called this retro
in 2011 but it never was considered mainstream in the eighties. Do
you remember the top twenty songs were all dance and house
music?”
“
I hated the stuff but
my friends all really liked it. They never liked my alternative
bands and refused to go to any concerts with me. This was my kind
of music.” She had to yell right into his ear to be heard over the
band. He smiled broadly and gave her the thumbs up. They simply
surrendered to the music at that point, the energy of the crowd,
the reverberations of the bass and drums shaking their bodies and
the sheer enjoyment of good, loud music all combined to make a
sensual experience. Adya almost glowed with the energy permeating
her from head to toe.
NRG walked out onto the stage as
the opening act finished their last song, the crowd greeting them
wildly. Greg Travers was lead guitar, his sister on keyboard. After
they belted out an entire set, Adya was stunned to be approached by
a stage guard, pass in hand. She stared dumbly at the card. Norton
leaned in.
“
That is perfect, you
can get in and talk to them.”
“
What, am I supposed
to pose as a groupie? I don’t know if I can do that
convincingly.”
“
Oh, I’m sure you’ll
think of something.”
She looked down at her dress,
wondering what the band member had seen in her to make his request.
Travers had not even noticed her so she did not expect it was him
sending the pass. She hoped he would not be too difficult to
handle. Making her way toward the door near the stage, she flashed
the pass at the guard. He smiled lasciviously as she walked through
the doorway and into the passage behind. Shaking her head at the
thought of the lifestyle where one picks a female body from the
crowd based on looks alone and invites them to share a night
without promises or meaning, she fought her rising
trepidation.
The guard at the next door waved
her on through into a sitting room. Two other young girls smiled as
she joined them, their eyes fuzzy with either excitement or drugs.
The latter was confirmed when one of the girls offered a pull on
her joint. She declined. A third woman entered the room from an
adjoining one, offering a can of cola which she accepted and
drank.
Ten minutes later she realized
there must have been a drug in the cola as lethargy swept through
her limbs, she felt herself slipping into an altered sense of
reality. She moved in slow motion as she turned, floating toward
them. The last fully conscious action was to push the panic button
on her transceiver, safely tucked in a secret pocket of her skirt.
Euphoric and warm, she gave hugs to the other girls on the couch,
her movements measured. The girls returned her embrace, laughing
and giggling as she kissed each of them on the cheek and said “Hi,
I’m Adya. What’s your names?”
She couldn’t lift a muscle after
sitting, watching as the band members entered the room.
“
Which one do you
want? I like the one in the middle.” The bass player pointed at
Adya where she was between the other two girls. She tried to speak
but all that came out was “Oh.”
The drummer selected the girl to
her right while Greg Travers slipped his arms around the girl on
the left. Each band member half carried, half dragged a girl to the
waiting limousine which drove to the band’s hotel. Adya repeatedly
tried to rise but got no further than lifting her hand before the
lassitude made her arm drop back like a lead weight. She was
supported by the bass player as the group entered through the lobby
and rode the elevator to the top floor. The men deposited the girls
on couches in the penthouse suite and poured themselves drinks
while admiring the prone bodies. They started with removing clothes
from the girls, Adya’s transceiver making a thump as it hit the
floor. The men were too busy looking at the girls and rating them
based on their attributes. She lay between the other two girls,
ranked second overall. Travers leaned in to decide if she should be
moved into first place when he swore.
“
Wait a minute. I
think I know this one.” Looking closely at her, his eyes widened.
“Shit, shit, shit. I do know her. She’s underage, a student at the
school where I taught last year. We don’t want to get busted for
having underagers here, we’ve got to get rid of her. I thought I
told the guys no youngsters. Shit.”
The door to the suite flew open
and Norton entered, accompanied by officers from the local police
agency and three private Three Eleven security personnel as well as
the hotel manager. “Hold it there, you are under
arrest.”
“
There’s my sister,
thank God it’s not too late.” Norton collected Adya’s dress from
the floor and gently slipped it over her head as the band members
were placed under arrest and charged with a number of criminal
activities including contributing to the delinquency of a minor,
possession of a controlled substance, three counts of tampering
with food or drink, attempted rape of a minor, unlawful coercion,
sexual assault and endangering the welfare of a child. Whispering
in her ear, “I am so sorry, I should have never let you try this
alone. Adya, please forgive me, this is my fault. I’m sorry for
letting you go back stage.” Norton slid his arms under her neck and
knees.