Oneshot. Honourary Bronze Acorn Winner of the December 2004-January 2005 Criminality Challenge.
A Criminal's Christmas
Artemis reeled in amazement at the sight of the recently purchased Christmas tree that now sat in the living room. The things we do to trees these days, he thought, with a slight grin on his face. The shimmering ornaments and glistening tinsel gave the impression of magic to the whole tree. Of course, Artemis might have just been associating the holiday plant life in this room with magic because only yesterday he had encountered real magic. The effects of this had included a large amount of gold coming unlawfully into Artemis' possession and Angeline Fowl's seemingly miraculous recovery from insanity.
Angeline had embellished the entire manor as soon as she found the box of expensive ornaments and other assorted holiday decorations, and Fowl Manor was looking particularly resplendent with all of the Christmas trimmings draped around it. Artemis had told his mother not to get him any presents (he felt satisfied with the gold he had managed to separate from the People) but Angeline had bought a number of gifts for her son nevertheless. Many of them were art supplies (Mrs. Fowl knew that Artemis was a skilled artist). Artemis showed his appreciation for the exquisite paints by offering to make a masterpiece for Angeline's rather austere room.
Still in awe of the wondrous tree, Artemis glanced at the grandfather clock. Eleven o' clock. Still plenty of time to deposit that fairy gold at the bank before lunch.
"Butler," Artemis said into a wrist communicator of which Butler had the twin. "We should immediately deposit those ingots the People so generously, ah, gave to us."
Sounding slightly metallic, Butler agreed.
In the car, Artemis was once again dissecting fairy technology. This time, a standard LEP concussor orb he had taken from Captain Holly Short during her rather brief visit. Prodding a few minute wires gently out of the way, he examined the interior. He held advanced concussive technology in his hands but he was having difficulty discerning how it would achieve its goal of knocking out its victims without affecting the initiator of it. Why is this secret evading me so persistently?
Part of the problem was that he was not at all sure he wanted to patent their equipment. This new feeling of morality startled him, but at the moment he was concentrating – at least he was trying to – on the orb. Values and ethics clouded his once-clear brain.
The car Butler was so wonderfully chauffeuring pulled into a parking space though the engine continued to run. Butler knew better than to disturb the thinking process his young charge was now going through. He had seen many a brilliant deduction interrupted by a sudden change in Artemis' surroundings; the majority of which having been caused by Butler himself.
Cooperate, you little piece of fairy technology, which cannot possibly be so incomprehensive that my high-caliber intelligence cannot understand you! Artemis instantly stopped foolishly insulting the mind wipe orb and noticed that they had just arrived at the local bank: the People's Bank of Ireland. Artemis smiled inwardly. After much research he had discovered that almost all of this bank's employees were indeed People; mainly ones who liked humans too much. Trusting none other than the more rebellious ones of the fairy society with his money – though only a portion of his entire wealth – was his own little ironic joke.
"Shall I go in?" Artemis said, breaking the intentional silence of the car.
With a start, Butler seemed to awake. He had been concentrating on not making any noise and had completely failed to see that Artemis was, in fact, waiting for him. The Fowl boy knew all this, of course, being the notoriously observant boy he is.
Artemis alighted from the vehicle and strode towards the double door out front. Artemis would not be bringing the gold in the front door, but someone would need to alert the bank that their deposit would be coming in by way of the back entrance. Even as he dragged the great glass door open, he saw the reflection of Butler's car heading off around the side of the building towards the place where the numerous gold ingots would be transferred into the bank.
He walked over to the place where the teller was taking a quick coffee break from, and observed a wrinkly old lady filling out an application of some sort. She was holding the piece of paper on the wall instead of using the counter as a flat surface to write against and her tongue was sticking out of her mouth, apparently, in thought. So far, all she had written in were her name and occupation ("Deirdre Lippincott" and "the genetic modification of swordfish to make it taste like cheddar and sometimes other various types of cheese," respectively). Artemis began to puzzle over what sort of job that was, but he figured that the majority of this bank's clientele were probably people one wouldn't want to spend much time with for one reason or another. He soon drifted off into a realm of reflections.
Artemis Junior had been taught by Artemis Senior that gold was power. Standing in this bank, which was not so coincidentally run by fairies, he felt a lack of power coursing through his veins. Being someplace where there was so much money – and so little of it being used at the current moment – had always given Artemis a sense of purpose. Sometimes, the purpose it gave him was a rather money-related one, but mostly the purpose he found was to do with power: power like the kind that may someday be used to put the entire world under a single ruling hand; power like the kind you can either abuse or give to someone more ruthless than yourself to abuse it for you; power like the kind Artemis was determined to have one day. For gold was power, yes, but knowledge of what to do with that gold was a gift in itself.
Now, though, Artemis did not feel that surge of power. He felt drawn to the money of the place, but not particularly for reasons of power. This was quite new to him and he wondered about it for a moment.
Mrs. Lippincott jerked Artemis from his fanciful thoughts when she banged the pen loudly on the counter to get the ink flowing again. Her antics also seemed to fetch the as-of-yet unseen teller and, also, the teller's attention.
"Mrs. Lippincott? What happened?" he asked, exasperatedly. Obviously he had not wanted to leave his caffeine.
"Mrs. Lippincott thought that knocking the pen on the table would re-establish the ink flow. A better idea would be to hold the pen upright for a few seconds. Ballpoint pens only work when the ink is being pulled through the tip by gravity," Artemis told them, knowingly. He had switched from Off to Walking Encyclopedia instantaneously. Only one person would ever know exactly how Artemis had managed this flawless transition, but this story will not include any of him.
A little pause full of stunned silence followed. After the exact amount of stunned silence needed to make it perfectly clear that he was more educated than them in the area of ballpoint pens, Artemis spoke.
"Excuse me, sir. I have a rather substantial deposit to make. My friend is out back waiting to be let in. Would you please attend to that immediately?"
"Right away, sir."
---------
Artemis and Butler had left the fairy gold in the bank and were heading home for lunch.
"Butler, I've been mulling over the events of yesterday, and I realized that fairies are too - too human. I can not imagine that I actually held one for ransom. But I suppose as long as we still have the funds necessary for the search missions I've sent to look for my father, I shouldn't feel shame. Should I?"
This change in Artemis had been so glaringly evident that Butler wondered who had given Artemis the capability to feel bad about something all of a sudden. Magic, maybe, he thought sarcastically. Astounded at the unreality of it, he realized that magic could very well have done the trick. Butler still had to get used to the idea of magic being real - and available.
It unnerved Butler, now, to see Artemis in such a guilt-ridden mood. Nothing in the world could have prepared him for such an enormous change in his charge's conscience. Little did he know it unnerved Artemis himself even more.
---------
Artemis had spotted the switch of his values as soon as he had reawakened after the time stop fiasco. While he sat in the back seat, on the way back to Fowl Manor he tinkered with the mind wipe orb for a few moments before some he had a flashback to this morning's events.
"Did the gold make it through?" That was what would have been his immediate thought, what should have been his immediate thought, but wasn't. Are Butler and Juliet alive? Did Holly really heal my mother? How long have I been out? Is the gold safe? was more like his true sequence of the questions that had immediately crossed his mind. They sounded, to him, to be more weak and more selfless than he normally was or even pretended to be. This realization had disoriented him.
Artemis had pondered his change of heart: Since when have I cared so much for the safety of others? Since now. Since fairies. Since Holly's healing of my mother. Holly couldn't have healed Angeline's insanity directly, so the only option must have been an indirect shot of magic. Maybe just something that would hit all of Fowl Manor. Something that would irrefutably have affected me, too.
The flashback ended and Artemis found he was thinking, for a change. Anything that could cure my mother so completely would have definitely had a major influence on me. I mean, I cried when she came down. Did I inadvertently terminate my criminal tendencies by making my mother her sane self again? No. If I still have this ability to worry about my destroyed unlawful tendencies they wouldn't really be destroyed, would they?
And this odd habit of flashbacks and reflections is really getting to me. The fact that no grammatically correct sentence begins with "and", or more specifically, the fact that I just began a sentence with "and" makes me quite uneasy. Did the magic, which so unfortunately established some previously absent values, also take away from some of my vast intelligence? It's hardly likely. However, one can not create something from nothing. Some of Holly's morality must have been put into whatever magic she used on Fowl Manor. I would have acquired some of that; I didn't lose any intelligence, it's just been converted to something more like what is in Holly's brain.
So, I have virtues of a fairy stored in my head now, which explains why I harbor resentment of the kidnapping of a fairy on reflection. Fairies wouldn't kidnap one of their own species; Holly wouldn't, at least. Conclusion: I have access to a Lower Elements Police Reconnaissance Officer's list of values; what she was picked to be in Recon for; what she would do in any given situation; what she believes in strongly.
By discovering what affected me, I was able to rid myself of it; or at least subdue it. When something tries to change the way my mind works, I can twist it around and find myself at the advantage.
I hold in my hands a power greater than that of the mind wipe orb. I made a choice whose further repercussions only time will tell, but all of which will lead to many prosperous eras, on my part. With this new view of the world and its ways, I have a key to Holly's mind. I can manipulate and deceive her. No one knows I can stop these morals from influencing my ways. No one even knows I have access to them.
I can and will act as though I have some ability to be concerned (to a certain extent) about those around me. I could get her to pity me, to hate me, or to worship me with a precisely calculated flick of my words. The other fairies, I may have to work at. One thing I am sure of, however.
The People shall remember the name of Artemis Fowl the Second.
With that, Artemis Fowl the Second – his mind cleared and composed at last – took another look at the mind wipe orb. He knew now to dismiss the recurring guilty feelings as not his problem. He also knew to try to understand what his new fairy-morals were responding to and why. Artemis could go about his illegal business without shame, because he had realized that it was not his own shame which had taken hold in his skull. The shrewd mind of the Fowl boy had found a lever he could tip that allowed him to be his old malicious self. The shrewd mind of the Fowl boy was currently wondering what Juliet had made for Christmas lunch and ignoring any thoughts that suggested remorse and expertly identifying exactly how the concussor orb worked, all at the same time. The shrewd mind of the Fowl boy was to decide an hour later that he would paint his mother a picture of traditional fairies, at once a mockery of the People and a gracious 'thank you' to them for unknowingly aiding him in infinite ways.
Disclaimer: I do not own Artemis Fowl. Do you?
A/N: Hello, dearest reader(s)!
Don't you just hate the title? is and/or wasuncreative
I felt guilty for not evenbeginning the next chapter of The Grey Area yet (hurrah, procrastination!) and I decided to post this old thingto appeasethe Fandom Gods. As always, tell me how you like it and what can be improved.Remember: If you want me to stop posting these awful fics all you have to do is support the ORION AWARDS!