Dearest Readers and Reviewers,
Most readers of any series, and I'm sure nearly every author of a series, is aware of the effect that original characters created within that series can have on one's creative juices – especially if you've gone through the ride of emotion, setback and triumph along with them by reading – just as much, and even more so if you're the one who laid their every step through the twists and twirls of that thrill-ride through writing.
That said, I will be the first to admit that my time spent creating and writing in the "Hodgeverse" through the four stories preceding this one – Anything is Possible, Life with Kim, Steel Swan, and Gleam Surge – was nearly as emotional and rewarding for myself as the resulting literary journeys had been for the Hodge family. It was certainly every bit as memorable. Most places you carry deep memories away from are like that. And places like that sometimes have an unexplainable, inexorable draw that almost seems to hold out its hand, attempting to call both author and reader back in for one more round of memories.
With that, allow me to once again extend my mind's hand through my keyboard – join your hands with theirs – and lead you (and them) on what I can but hope will be yet another memorable journey – at least as memorable as those which came before it…
As has been the case with the other stories in the Celler Series, reading the newest one without having gone through those preceding it will make the story you're reading seem a bit disjointed, out-of-place, and will probably make little sense, without first acquainting oneself with the threads that have woven the tapestry upon which the most recent chapter is nestled. This is not a limited-time offering; this story will still be here if you stop, go back, and read the stories that came before it. I promise. It will not only make the plot points presented here much more tangible – it will make any small references and the overall experience much easier to comprehend and digest.
And, as has always been throughout the entire Celler Series, Kim Possible and related established characters from the show are the property of Disney. All original characters within these stories, the premises and plotlines of the stories, and the concepts and terms of "The Hodgeverse," "The City of Eastgate, Pennsylvania," The Cross," "The Cross Agents," "The Resonance Conduit," "Cellers," "The Celler environment," "Fleshers," and "The Flesher environment" are created and owned by myself.
While I happily offer to my readers another insight into life in the "Hodgeverse," I feel I must also attach a caution to this one. The underlying premise behind every story in the Celler Series to this point has been one of "What if," placed within a mostly lighthearted atmosphere. Such is likely not to be the case when summarizing this installment.
Even in the somewhat remote possibility of more Hodgeverse/Celler stories in the future, this one will most likely have little worry of losing its prospective title as the darkest chapter in this Series – hence the following disclaimer…
WARNING: This story contains scenes of a graphic and violent nature. Contains scenes of character death. Reader discretion is advised.
//xx//xx//xx//xx//
//xx//xx//xx//xx//
CELLERGEDDON
1. A Fray(ed) of the Dark
Pennsylvania State University
University Park, PA
Campus Dormitory Building 6-A
2nd Floor
Sunday, April 6th, 2025
8:37 PM.
Heya Hi 'Rent-Units (that's you, Mom & Dad)!
It's all about a frantical wave and wide toothy grin from your college-replanted
daughter (the only daughter you have in college right? Right? ha ha)!
Before you start being 'rents, let me start being all about explain. I know that
getting something in the snail can be all about freak, 'cause it's usually bad
news—but I also know that you probably miss doing the e- and v-mail thing
several times a week, so here I am sending you something to keep in touch. At
least the snail is way less expensive than phone calls, right? Believe me, having
all the mail servers across campus down for over two weeks is causing more
grief than just communication. None of the electronic notepads in the classes
work, so there's no transfer access back to the terminals in our rooms—we have
to write out notes and assignments and quizzes and everything else by hand and
enter it later!
On the bad – it's all about a new generation of writer's cramp. Undergraduate
work is hard enough without having the normal tools to work with. And to add
to that, we've even had a couple of power blackouts in the past couple of weeks,
thanks to the pranking frat-brats two buildings over (before you ask, yes we've
reported them to campus police, but they haven't found any proof yet that they
did anything). On the good – sales of pens and paper in the campus store is
through the roof! In fact, working at the store is how I got such an ulti-hot
discount on the little laptop word processor I'm typing this on (of course, having
the diamond roomie Monique as an assistant manager in the store to get your
diamond daughter on the payroll there is worth mentioning (yep, I got the job,
ha ha). Moni's Business Management major is paying off big-time already!).
Speaking of Monique, she just waved a "hi" to you guys on the way to the stove
to boil some water for tea. I tried to get Frannie to wave too, but I barely got
"meh" from her. She's all about shoulders-deep in her computer screen on her
thesis project for her Graphics Design class. She wants to get it done early so
she'll have time for the big cram for semester finals in June. She told me that when
I write this, to tell you to tell her mom hi and that she's doing good, except for
having to save stuff to mini-disc and send it to her professors by snail courier
instead of sending it through email. She also said to tell her mom that she hasn't
run away with anyone—yet, he he.
I know I keep saying this, but I have to say it again 'cause it's all about for true
– college life is a bright diamond for all three of us in our second year—even
for Rufus. Bringing him along was definitely one of my good decisions. While
we're at classes all day, he keeps himself busy tidying up around the place, and
even putting our books and stuff in order during our morning battles to escape
Planet Sleep Haze and get to class on time. And Rufus always knows where the
flashlight is when the lights go poof. Another good thing about having Rufus on
campus? It's one of the easiest ways to make sure that any party we have in the
building is strictly non-alcoholic. There are usually Cellers at most functions on
campus (by the way, another 6 gained admission for this fall's classes!), but Rufus
is almost like the mascot of our building. Everybody just loves him and nobody
would think about any harm to him. Of course, having two Black Belts on hand
takes care of any other party security—HA HA!
Zach said to say hi too when I wrote, BTW. It's all about extra diamond that he
came to Penn St. from the dojo. He's almost like my instructor-away-from-home
to keep me up on my Kempo. He's a lot easier to work with than the instructors
on campus, because he knows my style so well, and knows what I want to work
on. He doesn't try to force any "by the book" regimen on me because he knows
my strengths and weaknesses. He's even working me into routines to incorporate
what I know about Speed Striking into my Escrima techniques (ever wanna get hit
by sticks twelve times within four seconds? Trust me, it's all about no you don't).
I'm really glad Zach is here. No nooo, it doesn't have anything to do with us liking
each other for about two years now (and NO MOM, school keeps us all about too
busy to have time for the THAT—Zach and I have both agreed to save the THAT
for the summer—HE HE HE). Speaking of Black Belt-iness, I know you're looking
forward to sessions over Summer break—my second Dan would be kind of a neat
Xmas present (all about HINT).
Frannie and I were talking over dinner the other night, and she brought up something
that made me think. When we come home after the semester finals in June, it will
be just about six years to the day since "The Event." I know you remember The
Event, Mom. I don't know how much you're reminded of it, but here on campus
I still am, even after six years. I still run into people between classes and other places
that recognize me from the night I came through the window in the Mall. The
rock-star-fame thing has worn off, but anyone who talks to me about it has that
gleam in their eye from having seen it. I can see it. They all say it was about the most
amazing thing they ever saw, and that their life is better after being, uhh, "introduced"
to Cellers and where they come from.
I think I know how you feel about it, too—just like I do, Mom. Leave out all the
lead stuff that happened before it in Cairo of course, but after that? I can't think
of a single second I would want to change. All the stuff Cap'n Mark (yes, I
know—Major—but it's all about names are hard to get rid of) taught me really
helped with my confidence in Karate and working with weapons. It helped with
my confidence in other things too. I think it had a lot to do with the courses I
decided to take in college with law enforcement and stuff (he he, I told Melfina to
tease Cap'n Mark that someday I'm going to be all about beat him in Karate and
investigative work!). And all the neat kids I met at the Youth Club on the Air Base?
They're some of my shiniest diamond friends. Dani is trying to talk her 'rents into
letting her transfer here next fall from Lehigh Valley—she says they have a better
paralegal program, but she wants into the Inter-Environmental Studies courses
here. Speaking of inter-environments, the no e-mail thing is really making me miss
the Celler diamonds I met when I went to Cellerland. I think Tara might have had
a small thing for me, but she seemed really cool about it. I miss her email tips about
how to get our computers to run smoother (I bet she could make a real hot rod out
of this little word processor—he he).
I'm really glad I got to know Melfina, too. She sends me at least one email a week
(or at least, she did before the servers went poof). Tell her I said hi when you talk
to her, and tell her the intern thing in Inter-Environmental Studies is still going really
well. There are things from my short stay in Cellerland that even surprise the
professors! Already twice during this semester I was asked to give a speech about
how I got there, what being there was like, and about the trip back (it's all about
killer knowing more than the teachers in some things—HA HA).
The shiniest part about The Event? It was that minute where I came out of the
Conduit from Cellerland—and you and Dad were the first people I saw. For that
minute? There was no crowd. There was nobody else there but us three, back
together again. It was another thing to te
/
/
/
The next several keystrokes bounced emptily off the suddenly-blank processor screen and clacked through the now-dark, silent room.
"No…! Ahhhh, No! NO-YOU-DIDN'T! Total Hell! I didn't SAVE that!!"
"Finally!" a voice piped from across the room. "A reason for saving to mini-disc!"
Another voice from the kitchen. "I know a totally dark room is not where I wanted to be while I'm carrying steaming hot tea!"
Kimi slid her legs over the side of the hide-a-bed, placing the small word processor to the side, and rose to her feet, navigating her way to the window. "Don't worry, Moni," she growled, "it's all about soon we'll be able to see by the light of burning frat-brats!"
She felt along the base of the window frame for the handle and roughly pulled the window open, thrusting her head out into the crisp spring darkness. "HEY!!" she screamed. "Put it back on or it'll be all about what happens when you cut the power to a dorm where a BLACK BELT LIVES!!"
"Hey," a distant voice popped from the night, "we didn't do it this time!"
"Uh-huh," Kimi shot back sarcastically, "just like you 'didn't do it' the last two times? Put it back on or my late-night snack is gonna be Delta Frat Pate` on crackers and MINCED-MEAT PHI!!"
"Keep your Black Belt on," another voice slid from the distance. "It's not just you. The whole campus is out."
Kimi slowly swept her gaze across the grounds. Over the acres of campus, the blackness was total. Not a light was to be seen, save for a slowly growing dance of flashlight beams behind windows.
Frannie joined her friend to her right side at the window, peering out over the darkly surreal scene. "Wow," she muttered almost in a whisper, "…everybody?"
A small wash of light leapt onto the wall to their left, and a tiny "Light!" emitted from behind the flashlight beam.
"Here first, Rufus," said Monique from the kitchen doorway. "I need to see a place to set down this tea."
The beam of light swung quickly to flash onto the light-skinned black woman, then shifted to a counter, illuminating an earthen-brown cup as Monique gently set it there and entered the main room. "The whole campus is out?" she asked.
"Everything's out," Frannie replied, still leaning out the window. "Can't see the library, can't see the administrator's building…it's all dark, except for flashlights."
A light burst from the sidewalk two floors below to the window, followed by a man's voice. "Everybody okay up there?"
"Yeah," Kimi called down, "we're all fine. What happened?"
"I'm not sure," the man said. "Maintenance said that the generators just…quit. We're working to get everything going again. Just kind of stay put for now."
Frannie made her way behind Kimi and along the wall from the window to a small bookcase. The room suddenly burst into illumination from the small lamp she was now holding in her palm. "Found the portable," she said. "Rufus, you can save the flashlight for now."
Monique turned to retrieve her tea. "Good call, Frannie," she said, returning to the main room and sitting into a chair near the bookcase. "That lamp is one of the cooler things the school store has. It'll give about six hours of light before it needs a recharge."
Frannie gave a wistful glance back to the desk. "Too bad it can't run a computer for six hours," she sighed.
Monique also looked across the room in the direction of the now-quiescent device on the desk. "How much did you lose?"
"Not so much," Frannie said. "I saved like, a minute before everything went out…but it was to the hard drive…not to mini-disk. Everything is still locked in there."
"Another good reason to head up to the school store," piped Monique. "You could really use a UPS."
"Hm?"
"An Uninterruptable Power Supply," explained Kimi, turning from the window. "Keeps the computer going for about a half-hour after everything else goes poof. That would be enough time to get what you wanted onto mini-disk and shut everything down properly."
"Sounds neat—" Frannie said – then her gaze slid downward "—and expensive…"
"Fear not, Diamond Fra," Kimi returned. "You can get one on a credit plan. And you have two roomies who just about run the store."
Frannie raised her head to Kimi. "Do they have one that can run more than one computer?" she asked as she handed Kimi the light. "Judging by the way you yelled, you lost way more than I did."
Kimi brought up her free hand in resignation. "Well," she said, "it wasn't schoolwork…just a letter home to the 'rents. More memory work than anything to put it back together again when I get power back, or even write it by hand. Your thesis is all about more important."
A soft chirping on a small end table next to the hide-a-bed Kimi had been sitting on caused her to return to it. She set the light on the table and picked up a small phone, opening it and bringing it to her ear. "Hello? Hiii," she purred, motioning a "Z" in the air to her two roommates. "Yeah, us too…I thought it was our friends two buildings down at first. I was all about getting set to go play a round of Smack-A-Frat until I looked out and saw it was everybody this time." She shifted her head to Rufus with a smile. "Yeah, he found it pretty quick. We have a portable on now, though. How are you guys doing?"
Kimi listened for a few seconds – then suddenly broke into a titter. "Really? You don't think a bonfire would be all about frowns from campus police? Oh yeah, I could totally hear that…'But Mr. Officer, it's only a teeny bonfire', hehehe. Us? Just cards or something…maybe backgammon. Okay…see you tomorrow. If this lasts into tomorrow, class could be all about read by candlelight—" her expression slid into a smirk "—if someone doesn't get candles banned because of the bonfire that burned down half their dorm building—" this brought Kimi to a quick giggle. "Okay…sleep good. G'night." She closed the phone and set it back onto the table.
Frannie had retrieved a deck of cards from the bookcase and sat onto a corner of the hide-a-bed, shuffling them. "Well, I can't work on my thesis," she said, "so I might as well work on winning some lunch money."
Monique rose from her chair and sat on the opposite side of the bed. "Not from me, girl," she smirked. "In fact, you still owe me a lunch from the last time we played."
"Yeah, I'm still planning on winning that back," said Frannie as Kimi settled on the corner nearest the small table and slid to the middle so as not to cast a shadow onto the bed. Frannie raised a finger across the bed, shaking it slightly at Monique and closing one eye. "You're just lucky we don't have a Knick Knack Chick Shack on campus," she warned. "If we could play Bitz Hockey, I'd be all about win that back in no time."
Kimi burst into a quick snicker at her friend. "If we could play Bitz Hockey for money here, you'd be all about feed me steak every night." At this, Monique joined in the light laughter.
Frannie's face slid into a mock pout as she continued to shuffle, sliding and packing the deck into her palm. "If we could play Bitz Hockey for money here, I'd be all about make sure to play only against freshmen," she sulked. This brought more laughter from the other two women.
"C'mon, Sir Lose-A-Lot," Kimi tittered. "Deal."
"What are we playing?" Frannie inquired. "We don't have a fourth for Hearts, or Bridge—"
She was cut off by a quick "Hey" of protest from the small pink form that had now joined them on the bed, his hands on his hips.
"Now Rufus," admonished Monique, "remember the last time you tried to play Bridge or Hearts? Your hands aren't big enough to hold that many cards at once…so you laid them out on the table. If you put them face-down, the game took twice as long as it should have from you having to peek at every card individually…and if you put them face-up so you could see them all, you complained that everyone else was looking at your cards!"
This brought a "Hmph!" from the mole rat.
"How about Rummy 500?" offered Kimi. This was answered with nods of approval from the rest of the group, and Frannie began to distribute the hands.
"I only want to play for about an hour at most," Monique said, rising to the bookcase to retrieve a pen and paper. "Something tells me tomorrow is going to be even more of a Monday than lately, with no lights—" she suddenly slapped her palm to her forehead "—ahhh, not to mention trying to run the school store without register terminals!"
"…you could try to get by with using a cash box," said Frannie.
"Nice thought," replied Monique, settling back onto the bed, "but it's kind of hard to run an electronic debit card through a cash box…maybe we could have people fill out debit statements and then run their cards through when the power comes back on."
"Works for me!" Kimi perked, motioning her hands out to Frannie, one an open palm , the other closed as if holding a pen. "Sign here please."
Frannie sighed as she placed the remainder of the cards in a stack in the center of the bed and gathered up her hand. "Electronics are nice, but sometimes I wonder if we depend too much on them in our everyday lives…"
//xx//xx//xx//xx//
Tina Drexel's years as Director of Data Flow proved her to be an invaluable asset not only to Kim's workings as Head of Processing – but to the seamless day-to-day operations of the entire Meridian Processing department. Her amiable personality allowed her to work closely with many people on the floor and apply a "hands-on" approach to monitoring daily operations, which gave her an important insight into possible future trends in workflow, and a sort of "sixth sense" in anticipating high and low points in the rate of that workflow. This resulted in a definite increase in productivity with her ability to adjust tasks throughout the floor to accommodate shifts in data flow.
Not only did Tina's abilities serve to strengthen her work relationship with Kim, it fortified their friendship as well, the two formulating a bond second only to that between Kim and Marcy Alvarez-Delgado. The three together had an almost visible symbiotic flow, whether during monthly business analysis meetings with other department heads, or on the Monday evening sessions in the backgammon club.
Even though it may have seemed slightly redundant at times, Kim nearly never missed an opportunity to relay to the Board of Regents the priceless nature of Tina's hand in producing the strong and almost silken tapestry of Processing output. This made its effect known in early 2024, when the Board announced Tina's advancement to the post of Assistant Head of Processing, directly under Kim.
Tina had been a fan of Kim's Disney series since its inception in 2002 – but she could never compare the times spent laughing, cheering and smiling at her television with the time that started from the first morning of her training at Meridian, now some 20 years ago. That morning began an immediate discovery for Tina; the discovery that she could be both a fan of – and friends with – a Celler.
//xx//xx//xx//xx//
Meridian Insurance Co.
3851 Eastgate Drive
Eastgate, Pennsylvania
Processing – 2nd Floor
Monday, April 21st
2:54 PM.
A soft knock at the door frame of her office brought Tina's gaze from the computer screen of figures she had been filtering through. She raised her head, looking to her left to the doorway and to a slender, almost lanky woman with a silken waterfall of sable hair nearly to her waist. "Hi there Rita," Tina perked. "What's up?"
"Hi Miss Tina," Rita returned the greeting. She held up a small array of papers she had printed out. "There's a claim I wanted someone to look at," she said. "Meaghan stepped out to break just before I opened it."
Tina's brow furrowed slightly as she glanced at the clock on her desk. "Claims?" she asked. "I would have thought you'd just be buttoning up the reports about now."
Rita's face fell a little. "Actually, the reports went about an hour ago," she said a bit sheepishly. "We were short several districts again."
Tina's expression now became a mix of concern and incredulity at this. "Again?" she asked. "As bad as two weeks ago?"
Rita's eyes met Tina's for a second – then fell to the foot of her desk. "Worse," she said in a low voice, as if she felt she were somehow to blame. "Most of Eastern New York, including NYC…New Jersey…most of Eastern Connecticut and Massachusetts."
Tina's eyes widened more as Rita listed each area. "My God," she breathed. "And every state district called or emailed in to confirm they weren't sending?"
"They all called. None of them had power to be able to do email. Massachusetts said they had been down since about mid-morning."
Tina slumped a bit into her seat. "It was bad enough two weeks ago," she said slowly. "It took us the better part of a week to get current after Maryland and D.C. were down for just one day." Her head softly sank against her hand. "Did any of them say why they went down?"
"Just sudden power outages," said Rita. "Every one of them. The backup generators gave them enough time to secure their data, but entire areas all around them are without net communication, so they couldn't get reports out. New Jersey had to call back three times before I could understand them, there was so much static on the phone line."
Tina let a sigh slip between her slightly open lips. "Okay. The storm won't be today. I know the rest of the reports are in good shape…and you confirmed with L.A. that they got them—"
Rita nodded in response, which caused a slight smile to sneak onto Tina's face. "There's something I can always count on during things like this," she said. "You put in a lot of hours after the Maryland glitch."
"I've always worked hard at making sure the reports were the best I could make them," replied Rita. "And besides…hard work now usually means easier work later."
Tina let out a quick chuckle. "I'm glad your power supply doesn't go down as easily." This caused Rita to giggle as well.
A hand slid to the door frame next to Rita, followed by a rich cascade of auburn hair framing a pair of bright emerald eyes appearing past her shoulder. "Hi guys," Kim beamed.
Rita turned immediately to her right. "Hi Miss Kim!" she returned.
Tina raised a hand in greeting. "Hey there," she said. "I was just getting ready to call you about some no-shows on today's reports."
"Oh?" Kim quizzed. "Like the Maryland thing earlier in the month?"
"I'm afraid this makes the Maryland thing look tame," said Tina, her head shaking slowly. "Power outages. Quite a few of the bigger districts in the upper East, including NYC."
"Today's reports went out about an hour-and-a-half earlier than normal because of the missing districts," Rita added.
Kim found a pained "Ew" escaping from her mouth. "You're right, that does make the Maryland thing look small. I imagine the power outages have affected daily processing in those districts as well…which will mean even more catch-up, once they're back up and running."
Tina turned her gaze to Rita. "Pick a couple of people who can work with you on this when we get the back data," she said. "I trust your work all the way, but there's no way you could catch up on a setback this big on…your…own…"
Tina's words were staggered as she slowly rose from her chair, looking past the two women standing in her doorway, and through the glass on either side of it. Across the floor, workers' heads were turning toward the ceiling. A growing buzz of low excited talking began to spread through the rows of desks.
A zone supervisor near Tina's doorway leaned in their direction. "Do you guys have the news on? Listen to the radio!"
Kim and Rita turned back to Tina as she reached for a console on her desk, turning a dial to bring up the volume on the radio feed from the overhead speakers in her office:
:::—without lights at intersections, traffic on the bustling island of Manhattan has all but ground to a halt. Police are attempting to oversee traffic flow, but the added load of security from lack of power has the NYPD asking business owners to lend assistance by trying to secure and protect their properties in any non-lethal way they can. Back to you, Martin.
Darien Adams in New York City, thank you, Darien. The outages are more widespread than just New York City. Areas of blackout over wide sections of New Jersey, Connecticut and as far north as Massachusetts and the Boston Metro have literally millions along the upper Atlantic Seaboard without power. Crews across the Northeast will be working into the night to restore power, but at this moment, the cause for the massive blackouts is, so far, unknown.
Elsewhere, two top NASA engineers are en route to Thailand's largest telecommunications company, the Shin Corporation, to lend their expertise as workers there continue to try to regain contact with an important satellite lost two days ago. The satellite, known as IPSTAR, is a major link in providing broadband Internet service to a wide market in the Asia-Pacific region, from southeast Asia to as far south as Australia and New Zealand—:::
A wide but somewhat uneasy smile drifted onto Kim's face as Tina reduced the volume of the speakers. "See? It could be worse," she piped, motioning toward the overhead fluorescent lighting. "At least we still have power."
"I never trusted satellites much," Rita said. "Our high-tech society hangs on the flight of things zooming around in space…among big rocks and all the other things already zooming around in space…"
Kim placed a hand on Rita's shoulder. "Heh," she chuckled, "when you get to watch all those documentaries on cable about the sharks you find so fascinating? Thank a satellite. When you get all those calls on your cell from your boyfriend? Thank a satellite."
"And when all that back data comes in from the downed districts?" Tina perked. "Thank a satellite!"
Rita's head slid back slightly, her eyes closing in a wince. "Ohh, I'll be sure to thank satellites for that," she groaned. The other two women couldn't help but burst into laughter.
//xx//xx//xx//xx//
Air National Guard 111th Fighter Wing
Near Willow Grove, Pennsylvania
Off-Base Housing
1121 Fairchild Avenue
Saturday, April 26th
7:22 PM.
The sleek black shape occupying the garage seemed as if it would devour every bit of light cast onto it, if given the chance. The mirror-polish coats of ebony paint looked as if they had been stretched smooth to the point of breaking, seeming to lend this aerodynamic chord an even richer, fuller depth to its tone.
The shape was a cunningly deceptive mix of beauty, sleekness and power. It could be compared to that of a sultry, seductive woman – a dark, mechanical femme fatale.
As menacingly as this form presented itself, its front now hung open in a yawn, as if willingly offering its cold steel innards for display and manipulation by the man who leaned into the gaping maw of the black beast over thick soft cloths carefully draped over either side of the opening, his hands plunged deep into its metal intestines;
Okay…one hand holding the tensioner in place…the other hand past the power steering pump, under the alternator… unngh, tight squeeze here…just a little more, past the— son-of-a…okay, don't panic, you still have two more bolts…you can swipe a yardstick or something under and get that one after the other two are in—
"…Mark…?"
Okay, just get the first bolt started and then you can let go for now…here we go—
"Mark?"
past the power steering pump, under the alternator, tight squeeze—
"Mr.-Broderson??"
make the turn with the fingers, find the hole…man, that drop light is warm—
"Major, Sir!!"
This last almost-barked command startled Mark enough to cause the "tick-ti-ticky" of the second bolt against the cement of the garage floor under the car, near where the first now lay. He quickly disentangled his hand from the metal maze, his other hand grasping the belt tensioner he had positioned. He retracted the upper half of his large frame from under the hood of the vehicle and straightened, turning to face the woman standing in the doorway. Her arms were folded across her "Kiss the Cook" apron, and her semi-toussled mane of black hair now framed a less-than-amiable expression.
"…Hi?" Mark offered.
This greeting caused Melfina's grip on a long-handled wooden spoon to tighten a bit, and her wide sepia eyes shifted from a disbelieving stare to narrow as her brow lowered, her mouth still resigned to a downturned scowl. "Several times through the spring," she started, "you had spoken to me a wish to engage in an evening meal which you enjoyed in the days when you were younger…and single. After describing this meal to me, I indirectly declined your request, having no real desire to partake of that level of factory-prepared sustenance, but I promised you that I would find a recipe which resembled this dish. Last week, I found such a recipe which I feel approximates what you described, but with more taste and appeal. I spent this afternoon preparing the crust and the gravy, and dicing poultry, carrots and potatoes for this dish."
Melfina now shifted slightly, motioning the wooden spoon over her shoulder in the direction of the kitchen, the tone of her voice further indicating her displeasure. "The concoction you had expressed such a wish for now sits on the kitchen table, uneaten, for the better part of an hour. I have reheated it two times in an effort to keep it hot and appealing—" she now waved the spoon in wide arcs in the direction of the vehicle "—but lately on weekends, about the only thing you have found appealing is this…" she nearly spat out the last "...Firecat!"
Mark's head drooped a little at his wife's admonishment. "I'm sorry, 'Fina," he offered as he slowly fumbled with the small aluminum part in his hand. "I know I've been spending a lot of time out here…but the Base Auto Show is only a little over two months away…and I want this car to look and run as well as I can get it." His gaze now rose to meet that of his wife, his tone remaining the same as he moved to the front of the vehicle. "And it's not a 'Firecat'," he added, "it's a Firebird. A Pontiac Firebird." Mark then reached to the workbench for a broom. "Let me get these couple of bolts I dropped," he said, sinking to his knees, "and I'll be right in."
Melfina's arms crossed over her chest again as Mark sank to his knees, sliding the handle of the broom under the front of the car. "Perhaps it is because I am not mechanically inclined," she huffed, "or perhaps it could just be a characteristic shared by males…but other than its condition in light of its age, I cannot grasp the depth of the allure of this vehicle which has caused you to become the…missing live-in husband as of late…"
"It's not just the age," piped Mark as he peered under the front fascia of the car, his tone now as if making a case for the car before a jury, "it's what it symbolizes. 2002 was—"
"Yes, I know," Melfina cut in. "You have informed me on many an occasion since bringing it home. 2002 is known as the last year there was production of a 'Pontiac Firebird'…and if I have to reheat it yet again, 2025 shall be known as the last year I produce for you the 'Chicken Pot Pie'!" With this, she turned and disappeared from the doorway.
"Give me just two seconds to get these bolts and I'll clean up for—"
Mark's sentence was severed by the sudden blackness which now dominated the garage.
"…'Fina," pleaded Mark, "you could have at least waited until I was out from under the car…c'mon, hit the switch."
"I am not near the switch," Melfina's voice came back from deeper in the house, laced with frustration. "I did not turn off your lights. Everything is off."
Mark left the broom in place on the floor, sliding the head to just under the front of the vehicle so as not to cause a tripping hazard. He rose to his feet, feeling along the nose of the car for a shop rag, and began wiping harshly at his hands as he made his way through the doorway.
Using the late evening's light through the windows to guide him into the living room, Mark found his wife settled onto the couch, looking down at her knees, her hands clasped between them. "This is the third time this month," he said slowly. "I don't know why this is going on…but it can't be good."
This point caused Melfina to sulk a bit more. "One thing is for sure…it cannot be good for the pot pie…" as she finished this statement, her mouth soured a bit more and she brought up one hand, lowering her face into it, her fingers against the center of her forehead.
Mark brought a hand to Melfina's shoulder in a light touch. "Not to worry," he smiled. "Give me a moment to clean up a bit…and I'll take you to dinner."
Melfina sat for a few seconds – then took in a long slow breath, sighing it out against her palm in a huff of resignation. "I shall store the pot pie," she said, slowly rising from the couch, her eyes still cast downward. "Perhaps it will still be appetizing…as…left-overs—"
Melfina's words were staggered as she brought her gaze upward. Mark had taken one of the scented candles from the coffee table in front of the couch and lit it with a small lighter nearby. He stood, smiling, slowly shaking his head from side to side, the amber orbed container softly aglow in his hand.
The warm light of the candle gave an accentuating sparkle to Melfina's tear-moistened eyes. She had no response but to slowly settle against the large man's chest, her arms sliding around his torso. "You know," she said softly, "there are times, however seldom, in which I find myself giving fleeting thoughts as to why I tolerate some of the nuances of your behavior…" She moved back a bit, looking first at the candle, then into Mark's eyes, her mouth spreading into a warm smile. "And nearly always, those thoughts are answered with times such as this which tell me exactly why."
Mark smiled a bit wider, slipping his arm across his wife's shoulders and the two started in the direction of the kitchen.
"The portion of the pot pie that is still in the oven will be warmer," Melfina said. "I shall serve that." A playful smirk of thought then crossed her face as Mark placed the candle in the center of the kitchen table. "Given reflection?" she said, "I think they should have named the car 'Firecat' rather than 'Firebird'." This brought a quizzical side-look from Mark until she continued. "It is well known that a cat is faster, stronger, and has quicker reflexes than a bird."
Mark breathed out a chuckle and delivered a quick light slap against his wife's rear. She reacted with a short shriek through her giggling as Mark turned for the restroom.
//xx//xx//xx//xx//
Institute of Geophysics and Planetary Physics
University of California at San Diego
La Jolla, CA
Geosciences Research Division
Lab 2-A
Friday, May 2nd
10:21 PM.
The light coming from the large flat-panel monitor seemed almost to humiliate that from the small table lamp sharing the desk, the two devices the only illumination in the glass-encircled room. The array of open windows on the screen full of charts and other data seemed to lend an almost irradiated glow to the dog-eared and hastily-stacked pile of papers next to it on the desk.
The glow also extended to the face of the man in his early 30's staring into the screen, his fingers interlocked in front of his face, his lips resting against his index fingers. His dark hair was mostly in disarray from running his hand through it in a half-hearted attempt to reset his concentration and somehow crunch the numbers before him in a fresh manner.
A light knock at the doorway brought the man's gaze from the computer to the doorway, and to a woman of medium stature with shoulder-length dishwater blonde hair. One arm clutched a small satchel and a couple of hard-bound books to the side of her torso. As his eyes met hers, a soft smile crossed her face. "You should try getting some real sleep tonight," she said.
The man pushed his fingers along the bridge of his nose, pushing his glasses upward for a few seconds as he rubbed at his red-rimmed eyes. "I just want to go back over these figures one more time before I send them up to Ted Oliver in Seattle in the morning."
The woman leveled an expression of exasperation at the man. "In the morni—" she started. "Ahh, that 'going back over' is going to take you another four hours at least. You're going to sleep here again tonight, aren't you...? Nathan, that's four nights in a row."
Nathan let out a breath. "I can sleep over the weekend," he replied. "I just want to make sure this is right before I send it."
"You should let Ted check your figures in the morning," she admonished, motioning to a couch across the office. "At least he will have had a full night's sleep." She then took a couple of steps into the room. "Those fish in your apartment probably miss you more than your bed does," she said. "They can't feed themselves, you know."
Nathan adjusted his glasses and shifted his gaze back to the screen. "I called the landlord to go up and sprinkle a little food in their tank," he said. He then rose from the desk, motioning a hand back to the screen as he started toward a small bathroom just off the office. "Jennifer…look at something real quick. I need to splash some water on my eyes."
Jennifer took a halting step toward the desk. "This is not going to stop me, you know," she said jokingly as she placed her books into a chair at the side of the desk. "I have a weekend planned and a family to share it with, and I'm not going to disappoint either." She continued around the desk, leaning to look over the screen that Nathan had been seemingly tethered to.
Nathan returned from the bathroom, his glasses in one hand while he rubbed a paper towel over his face with the other. "Do you see it?"
Jennifer continued to look over the figures. "I'm not seeing much out of the ordinary," she said. "Just a recent fluctuation of the magnetic fields. Nothing out of cyclic parameters, anyway."
Nathan reached past Jennifer to a mouse on the desk, highlighting a partially-obscured window. "Sure," he said, "nothing out of parameters…until you look at the timeframe…"
Jennifer studied the window for a few seconds – then her eyes widened slightly, her brow raising with them. She slowly turned her head, looking back at Nathan. "Are these figures right…?" she asked a bit incredulously.
"They were right the last six times I went over them," replied Nathan, replacing his glasses onto his head. "I don't expect them to change this time."
Jennifer straightened from the desk, turning to Nathan, still with the disbelieving look on her face. "A ten-percent drop in the Earth's magnetic field in just 72 hours?"
"Now you know what's kept me here the last three nights," Nathan said.
Jennifer thought for a second. "Any chance this is due to a spike in solar activity?"
"Thought of that. That was the report on sunspot activity I had faxed from UC Davis on Wednesday. The Sun is actually at a low point in its cycle." Nathan then rubbed at his eyes again. "The only other things are the intangibles…near-Earth objects and such. That's why I want to get this to Ted to get his take on it. He's in close with a lot of people at NASA. They probably already have their finger on what's causing this."
Jennifer turned back to the screen again, looking at the figures, her mind taking in the data. "This might have something to do with the power outages I've been seeing around the country…and that com-sat thing over Asia a couple of weeks ago." She once again stood, turning to gather her things from the chair. She let out an audible sigh. "I'll have my beeper," she said. "Page me if you get anything from Ted…and an email backup. I'll check in on Sunday either way." A small smirk then crept onto her face. "I trust I can reach you here first…"
Nathan's eyebrow raised at her last statement. "…First?" he asked.
Jennifer raised a finger toward her colleague. "After working with you for four years, there's one thing I'm sure of with you," she said with a knowing grin. "Your obsessive nature. Once you latch onto something, you squeeze it until it bleeds the truth or whatever else it is you're searching for."
This was met with a smile of confirmation from Nathan. "I'll be here unless I hear something quick from Ted."
Jennifer started toward the door, waving a "good-night" over her shoulder. Nathan returned to his seat at the desk. Jennifer stopped at the doorway, turning back to the office. "Oh. Nathan?"
"Hm?"
"Call your landlord tomorrow. Tell her I'll drop by on Sunday with Janey so she can feed your fish…she loves watching them."
Nathan let out a huff of a chuckle through his cheeks. "Tell her the big goldfish is expecting babies."
Jennifer now raised an eyebrow. "Nooo, I don't think I'll tell her that," she smiled. "She won't want to leave then…and one person in my life spending nights away from home is more than enough." With that, she turned again, waving as she started down the hallway.
to be continued…