A Clockwork Tomato | 12-27-2003 09:08 PM |
ACT 34: MEMORIES OF DAYS GONE BY
This is the eighth episode in my very own Season 3 of Big O.
The series starts with:
Act 27: Life Goes On and continues with
Act 28: Returning to the Dead ,
Act 29: The Master Criminal,
Act 30: Dori, Dorothy,
Act 31: The Underground Error,
Act 32: Materia Medica,
Act 33: Heaven’s Day Mayhem
-- A CLOCKWORK TOMATO
* * *
Daryl Parsons was sixteen years old. He hadn’t gotten along with his drunken mom’s drunken boyfriend, so he’d moved out. He was making a precarious living doing odd jobs and bunking with friends.
A guy came up one morning and said he needed two or three guys to help clear out an old storeroom for half a day. Daryl and a guy he didn’t know named Mike took him up on it. Ten bucks was ten bucks.
They got taken to an enormous concrete building at the edge of town; some kind of old factory, Daryl guessed. They were led inside. There was plenty of junk in the room; you could see why they wanted people with strong backs to clear it out. They were led into a side room first, to sign papers, they were told.
But instead, they were grabbed and given injections that made them groggy, then hustled down a side corridor.
Daryl lost consciousness before he discovered where he was being taken.
* * *
Angel walked into the living room in Casa del Beck, Beck and Dori’s new apartment, which was built into a corner of Beck’s enormous workshop at Hangar B. She had a lunch date with Beck and Dori. Beck was there, sprawled on a couch. There was no sign of Dori.
“You look tired,” said Angel.
Beck nodded morosely. “Dori’s just about worn me out.”
Angel laughed. “You should have thought of that before you got yourself a robot girlfriend.”
Beck explained, “She’s just about worn me out dancing."
“Never gets tired,” Angel went on, ignoring this. “Doesn’t sleep.”
Beck plowed ahead doggedly. “Roger took Dorothy out dancing, and Dorothy loved it, so now I have to take Dori out dancing, too. We’ve been out every night this week.”
“All that enthusiasm,” continued Angel. “It’s a wonder you’re still alive.”
Beck threw a pillow at her and missed. “Why do I let you hang around?” he asked.
“Dori loves me.”
“Well, that’s true.”
“And you’re so damned obnoxious that hardly anybody else will come to see you, so you can’t afford to be choosy. And you don’t mind me yourself. Where’s Dori, anyway?”
“In the shop, I think.” Beck stood up and stretched, yawning. They crossed over to the corridor leading to Hangar B. A room partitioned off the cavernous main floor had a light on. This was the android workshop.
Dori was inside. She had a tiny screwdriver in her left hand and a jeweler’s loupe in her eye. She had removed all the skin from her right hand, and all the gleaming stainless steel works were exposed. She was making an adjustment to something in her right thumb. She looked up and smiled. “Hi, Angel. I’m almost done.”
Angel walked up to the bench and picked up the skin that Dori had removed. It also contained some padding and most of the nerves for her hands, though some were in the joints and metal bones as well. Angel still didn’t understand how the nerve impulses passed through the skin and into the cables that went up Dori’s arms. Dori had explained it, but Angel only recognized about one technical term in four.
Dori said. “All done. Just hold that like a glove, Angel, and let me get my fingers inside it.” She slipped it on, wiggled her fingers, shoved some things around a little bit with the fingers of her left hand, and then her hand looked perfectly human, without even a hint of a seam. “There,” said Dori with satisfaction. She stood up and gave Angel a hug. “I haven’t seen you in two days!”
“I’ve been busy. The memory-hunting racket is giving me fits,” admitted Angel.
“Well, it should,” snorted Beck. “You have special talents and you’re refusing to use them.”
“It’s not just that,” said Angel. “There’s a gold rush in the Megadeus-hunting business.”
“Really? Nobody tells me anything,” complained Beck.
“They wouldn’t,” said Angel, “because it’s all your fault. Everybody knows you scored a Megadeus, and they say, ‘Beck doesn’t deserve one any more than me, so maybe I can find one of my own.’ Everybody and his brother is out combing the Wastelands or even the underground looking for trouble.”
Dori looked concerned. “A lot of them will be killed, won’t they?”
“Good riddance,” said Beck. Then, “Sorry, Dori.”
“And they’ll be taken like poor Will if they’re not lucky,” said Dori. “And the poor damaged Megadeuses always end up being killed. Someone should be taking care of them.”
Angel nodded. “How’s the core memory research going, Beck?”
“I still don’t understand Wayneright’s notes. In theory, I should be able to make new core memories, using Dori as a template. And in theory I ought to be able to use any human personality, not just the human Dorothy’s. You could go to sleep one night, and wake up as an android – well, sort of – and the human Angel would still be walking around. In theory. But something doesn’t add up. If I can figure it out, I ought to be able to churn out new core memories for Megadeuses or androids; take your pick. Wayneright did it, why not me?”
Angel was surprised. “Did Dorothy 1 have the human Dorothy’s memories?”
“Sure,” said Beck. “Why not?”
Angel shrugged. “She’s not the type. You don’t want Megadeus to be a half-hearted fighter.”
“Dorothy 1 was designed for salvage work, not combat. Meticulous, dangerous stuff. Dorothy was a great choice.”
“Lunch,” said Dori. “We were going to have lunch. I’m starved.”
They grinned at Dori, who often used her entirely imaginary hunger, thirst, or sleepiness to move things along, and began bickering over which restaurant to go to. Dori chose restaurants on the basis of how cute the guys on the staff were. They eventually decided to go to a rib house that Angel and Beck both liked, even though Dori found the all-woman serving staff to be a terrible disappointment.
On the way, they decided to draw up a plan to salvage the crazy Megadeus they’d found underground. It was so wrecked that Beck figured it could be approached – at least by Big B. And Beck wanted to salvage the hangar and transport system left behind by Big Ramses, which had been destroyed sometime back. Otherwise, other looters would get there first and salvage all the good stuff.
As they were pulling into the parking lot, Dori asked, “Angel?”
“Hmm?”
“Where’s Big Venus?”
Angel thought about this for a long time, but couldn’t remember. She hoped Big Venus was safe.
* * *
Continued on Sunday in Part 2
This is the eighth episode in my very own Season 3 of Big O.
The series starts with:
Act 27: Life Goes On and continues with
Act 28: Returning to the Dead ,
Act 29: The Master Criminal,
Act 30: Dori, Dorothy,
Act 31: The Underground Error,
Act 32: Materia Medica,
Act 33: Heaven’s Day Mayhem
-- A CLOCKWORK TOMATO
* * *
Daryl Parsons was sixteen years old. He hadn’t gotten along with his drunken mom’s drunken boyfriend, so he’d moved out. He was making a precarious living doing odd jobs and bunking with friends.
A guy came up one morning and said he needed two or three guys to help clear out an old storeroom for half a day. Daryl and a guy he didn’t know named Mike took him up on it. Ten bucks was ten bucks.
They got taken to an enormous concrete building at the edge of town; some kind of old factory, Daryl guessed. They were led inside. There was plenty of junk in the room; you could see why they wanted people with strong backs to clear it out. They were led into a side room first, to sign papers, they were told.
But instead, they were grabbed and given injections that made them groggy, then hustled down a side corridor.
Daryl lost consciousness before he discovered where he was being taken.
* * *
Angel walked into the living room in Casa del Beck, Beck and Dori’s new apartment, which was built into a corner of Beck’s enormous workshop at Hangar B. She had a lunch date with Beck and Dori. Beck was there, sprawled on a couch. There was no sign of Dori.
“You look tired,” said Angel.
Beck nodded morosely. “Dori’s just about worn me out.”
Angel laughed. “You should have thought of that before you got yourself a robot girlfriend.”
Beck explained, “She’s just about worn me out dancing."
“Never gets tired,” Angel went on, ignoring this. “Doesn’t sleep.”
Beck plowed ahead doggedly. “Roger took Dorothy out dancing, and Dorothy loved it, so now I have to take Dori out dancing, too. We’ve been out every night this week.”
“All that enthusiasm,” continued Angel. “It’s a wonder you’re still alive.”
Beck threw a pillow at her and missed. “Why do I let you hang around?” he asked.
“Dori loves me.”
“Well, that’s true.”
“And you’re so damned obnoxious that hardly anybody else will come to see you, so you can’t afford to be choosy. And you don’t mind me yourself. Where’s Dori, anyway?”
“In the shop, I think.” Beck stood up and stretched, yawning. They crossed over to the corridor leading to Hangar B. A room partitioned off the cavernous main floor had a light on. This was the android workshop.
Dori was inside. She had a tiny screwdriver in her left hand and a jeweler’s loupe in her eye. She had removed all the skin from her right hand, and all the gleaming stainless steel works were exposed. She was making an adjustment to something in her right thumb. She looked up and smiled. “Hi, Angel. I’m almost done.”
Angel walked up to the bench and picked up the skin that Dori had removed. It also contained some padding and most of the nerves for her hands, though some were in the joints and metal bones as well. Angel still didn’t understand how the nerve impulses passed through the skin and into the cables that went up Dori’s arms. Dori had explained it, but Angel only recognized about one technical term in four.
Dori said. “All done. Just hold that like a glove, Angel, and let me get my fingers inside it.” She slipped it on, wiggled her fingers, shoved some things around a little bit with the fingers of her left hand, and then her hand looked perfectly human, without even a hint of a seam. “There,” said Dori with satisfaction. She stood up and gave Angel a hug. “I haven’t seen you in two days!”
“I’ve been busy. The memory-hunting racket is giving me fits,” admitted Angel.
“Well, it should,” snorted Beck. “You have special talents and you’re refusing to use them.”
“It’s not just that,” said Angel. “There’s a gold rush in the Megadeus-hunting business.”
“Really? Nobody tells me anything,” complained Beck.
“They wouldn’t,” said Angel, “because it’s all your fault. Everybody knows you scored a Megadeus, and they say, ‘Beck doesn’t deserve one any more than me, so maybe I can find one of my own.’ Everybody and his brother is out combing the Wastelands or even the underground looking for trouble.”
Dori looked concerned. “A lot of them will be killed, won’t they?”
“Good riddance,” said Beck. Then, “Sorry, Dori.”
“And they’ll be taken like poor Will if they’re not lucky,” said Dori. “And the poor damaged Megadeuses always end up being killed. Someone should be taking care of them.”
Angel nodded. “How’s the core memory research going, Beck?”
“I still don’t understand Wayneright’s notes. In theory, I should be able to make new core memories, using Dori as a template. And in theory I ought to be able to use any human personality, not just the human Dorothy’s. You could go to sleep one night, and wake up as an android – well, sort of – and the human Angel would still be walking around. In theory. But something doesn’t add up. If I can figure it out, I ought to be able to churn out new core memories for Megadeuses or androids; take your pick. Wayneright did it, why not me?”
Angel was surprised. “Did Dorothy 1 have the human Dorothy’s memories?”
“Sure,” said Beck. “Why not?”
Angel shrugged. “She’s not the type. You don’t want Megadeus to be a half-hearted fighter.”
“Dorothy 1 was designed for salvage work, not combat. Meticulous, dangerous stuff. Dorothy was a great choice.”
“Lunch,” said Dori. “We were going to have lunch. I’m starved.”
They grinned at Dori, who often used her entirely imaginary hunger, thirst, or sleepiness to move things along, and began bickering over which restaurant to go to. Dori chose restaurants on the basis of how cute the guys on the staff were. They eventually decided to go to a rib house that Angel and Beck both liked, even though Dori found the all-woman serving staff to be a terrible disappointment.
On the way, they decided to draw up a plan to salvage the crazy Megadeus they’d found underground. It was so wrecked that Beck figured it could be approached – at least by Big B. And Beck wanted to salvage the hangar and transport system left behind by Big Ramses, which had been destroyed sometime back. Otherwise, other looters would get there first and salvage all the good stuff.
As they were pulling into the parking lot, Dori asked, “Angel?”
“Hmm?”
“Where’s Big Venus?”
Angel thought about this for a long time, but couldn’t remember. She hoped Big Venus was safe.
* * *
Continued on Sunday in Part 2