Chuck versus the Load Balancer Chapter 1

Author's Note: OK, this is an idea that has been kicking around in my head for a while now. I plan on making it a multi-chapter story, though I am not sure what the length will be. I am also not sure my posting schedule, so please bear with me.

I want to make sure that all of you are aware of this one fact: this is strictly an AU story. Yes, I am going to try and use some of the episodes from the show, but as you will see in the first chapter, I am not going strictly based on the episodes, so there may be some skipping of various episodes. Another thing that I want to make clear, I am posting this story without the help of a beta, so please go easy on the formatting and grammar mistakes that you may find. I have had this idea for a while now after reading some other great stories here.

I am not making any money on this story – it is being done for fun on my part and to explore a what-if question that I have been kicking around in my brain.

All of that said, please enjoy!

Project Kick Off

A Definition: In computing, load balancing distributes workloads across multiple computing resources, such as computers, a computer cluster, network links, central processing units or disk drives. Load balancing aims to optimize resource use, maximize throughput, minimize response time, and avoid overload of any single resource. (From Wikipedia, emphasis added)

The Scientist - June 1995

The scientist grunted as he looked at the spreadsheet for the millionth time. His mind was crunching the data, turning it over and over, looking at it from one direction and then in the next moment looking at it from another direction. As his mind did this, his fingers gently caressed the sheets of computer paper that showed the numbers, the data, the results, the continued failure. Because, that is what he was looking at, yet another failure – if the numbers proved to be correct, and sadly he knew that they would, this simulation was a failure.

He had thought it would succeed this time. He had hoped it would. To finally be able to have an actual Intersect – one that wouldn't force the use of a Governor – was so close. But, and this thought brought a smile to his face, close only counted in horse shoes and hand grenades – and neither of those would help him in this situation.

"Dammit", he yelled in frustration. Throwing his arms up in the air he stood from the desk in his office and stalked out of the room. His two children were out playing with neighborhood kids, so the scientist decided to go for a walk in the summer heat. As he walked he passed suburban homes, some looking immaculate and others not so much, but all had a feeling that permeated the neighborhood: home.

He smiled thinking of how he and his wife had decided on the home they now lived in. It had been several years ago, but only a few since his wife had disappeared. No word on why or where. Only a small hand-written note on his pillow that read:

I have to do this for your safety and the safety of our children, I love you. Don't look for me.

He hadn't heard from her in years, but he still would look and listen and hope. He smiled again a little at the change that had come over their children since she had left. Their daughter had stepped up and taken charge as much as a teenager could. Their son though had withdrawn into himself only focusing on his friendship with his best friend – the two of them playing various video games through the nights and weekends, collecting comics, and debating ideas about Star Wars.

The noise began softly, but grew louder as the scientist's walk took him closer to the local playground. His thoughts still ebbing and flowing about his children, his missing wife, and the problem that had brought him outside. As he slowed to watch the many children playing on the playground, he tried to spot either his son or daughter when he spied two younger children playing on the seesaw. He watched as first one and then the other child pushed off with all their might rocketing to the apex then just as quickly coming back down when the other participant tried to get higher. Just as he was turning away not noticing either of his children, the seesaw stopped its action as somehow both of the children had gotten it to balance both of their weights perfectly, something that brought laughter and smiles to their small innocent faces.

The scientist stared as the children began to seesaw up and down, trying once again to bring the equipment back into balance. His mind reeled… could it be that simple? It was so simple that he couldn't begin to comprehend the idea, but it should work. He turned back to the house; he would run the numbers again using this idea. Deep down, he knew this was the solution. This was the way to have a viable intersect – it just needed a load balancer to make it work at the fullest capacity without endangering the person with it. Of course, how would he find the necessary agents to that would be not only capable, but compatible?

"Who cares about that, I need to see the numbers first."

When he walked into his home he knew something wasn't right, the door to his office was open. His heart seized up and he slowly moved towards the door, trying to extend his senses out to determine if an intruder was still in the room. He neared the door and not seeing or hearing anyone cautiously pushed it open. His eyes widen at the sight that came to him, sitting there in a chair was his youngest son, who was staring at the array of monitors. The monitors all blank except the main computer were blank, the main monitor of the prototype displayed the message that the program had run successfully.

The scientist could barely whisper one worded question, "Chuck?"

The Young Woman - January 2003

The young woman was tired. Bone-wearily, mind-numbingly, fall-over tired. She could no longer put two words together in a coherent fashion. The fact that she was even able to walk in a somewhat vertical manner was amazing, she looked more like a drunkard stumbling home than a spy with a few years under her belt already. If she could make it back to her room it would be a miracle. Luckily the miracle occurred, and the woman was able to reach her small room and collapse on the small twin bed that took up the far wall of the room.

The room was so nondescript, saying it had four walls, a bed, and a wardrobe would be about all that could be said. Even the beige-ish color of the walls bored itself, and if given a chance the paint would pack up and take the next train in order to get away from the stifling boredom. These facts were so boring that most people's minds would even ignore them and move on to other things that would be more interesting.

The absolute thing that would interest anyone would be the single occupant in the room, who was currently laying on her belly, her head pressed into the pillow, breathing softly in a rhythm that no doubt was proof of her being completely asleep. Her blonde hair spread out to one side and looked tangled and matted, like its owner had recently been doing something tremendously physical. One of her toned arms was buried under the pillow to help provide her head a little more support, while the other dangled off the side of the small bed. She was wearing workout clothes which looked well worn. Her feet were slightly draped off the end of the bed, still clad in the shoes that look comfortable and broken in. The visible side of her sleeping face was flush from exertion and if an observer looked very closely, her eyes moved rapidly under her eyelids – proof that she was in REM sleep. What the observer couldn't know was the dreams the young woman was currently having, just that she was dreaming.

Dreams that seemed at once more coherent than any the young woman had ever had, but at the same time so random that the she couldn't make out what they were as they flitted through her mind like a red-throated hummingbird flying around after drinking a quad shot of espresso. Random pictures and words and mathematical formulas paraded around her subconscious. There seemed no reason to the patterns that wove themselves around her.

Then in a moment of striking clarity, she stood on a beach. The surf was making its usual progression as it broke on the sand that stretched for several feet in front of her. She knew she was dreaming, but was amazed that she could smell the sea and the air. She noticed she was wearing a patterned blouse under a dark jacket and a pair of tight dark pants, she had shoes but they were currently in her hand. She looked down and could make out each individual grain of sand as she flexed her toes, shocking her again that she could feel the warmer sand part and the moist cooler sand met her toes exploration. She looked up and saw only a gray sky with no discernable clouds, just overcast. She looked around and saw no one and only seven palm trees behind her. Nothing else was visible.

So having nothing else to do, she sat down and began to think, which she realized was odd as she had never thought in a dream before now. She dropped the shoes to her left side and pulled her legs up so that she could rest her crossed arms on them and then rest her chin on her arms as she continued her silent vigilance.

She heard a small noise as something approached her from behind. She realized her instincts, which had now been honed to a razor's edge in order to survive the world she had found herself in didn't warn her of a problem. In fact as she sat, she felt calm and at the same time anxious to meet the person coming towards her.

She looked back toward the surf as a young man came to sit next to her. She didn't spare him a glance, until he spoke.

"I am glad you're finally here." His voice was strong and soft, it sounded kind with a hint of nervousness running through it. And it calmed her even more.

"Why?" She asked him, finally turning her face toward the young man.

He had positioned himself in almost the same position as she was in, except his face was turned toward her. Because it was a dream, she wasn't able to make out any details. She could instinctively feel that he had dark brown hair that was longish and curled around his ears and the neck of his lighter striped shirt. She continued her gaze down from his face and saw that he was wearing dark jeans and a pair of black Chuck Taylor shoes, which she found to be an odd choice for beach footwear.

She felt that his brow knitted in a look of surprise when she looked at him. As he did this he came into a little more focus, but she couldn't really understand all of his facial features, except for one: his eyes. They looked like brown pools of warm hot chocolate and seemed to stare right into her soul. It at once made her both uncomfortable and completely at peace, it was unnerving but endearing.

His look of surprise was almost instantly replaced with one of joy and happiness, and for some reason the young woman's chest burned with her own joy at the thought that her appearance had caused his happiness. This was much different from the look of shock and fear that greeted her many times in the real world.

"Well, you being here means a lot of things are going right. It means that my life might actually be starting to turn around finally."

She continued to stare at him, uncertain of what he meant or how it related to anything in this dream world. But somehow she felt something about this young man, something important.

"I still don't understand. Care to explain?" She smiled as she spoke wanting him to not shut down from frustration at her ignorance.

And so he did. He told her of his life, and instead of feeling bored the young woman began to feel closer to this dream man. She wanted to help him. To make sure that he was OK. It would've scared her how strongly she was already feeling towards him, but she justified her feelings believing it was only a dream.

They talked for an indeterminate amount of time. Finally, the young man stood up brushing the back of his pants to rid himself of the sand. She was amused to see how tall he was, he had a good several inches on her.

"Well, I guess it's time to go. I'll see ya around; it was good to finally meet you."

He held out a hand to help the young woman stand. Brushing her own pants off, she shrugged and smiling up at the young man said, "Ditto," and then quietly watched as the he began walking away from the surf and ocean. Before he was completely out of sight, he stopped and turned to face her and waved good-bye. He then turned and was gone, and the young woman was left alone on the beach.

At some point the random pictures and words and formulas began their frenetic dance until the alarm went off obnoxiously announcing it was time for the young woman to rise and get ready for another grueling day.

One Is Enough

The scientist looked at the numbers from the latest batch of recruits. His mind wandered as it often did when he was sitting still.

"Project Omaha… phtth. Sounds like that old wildlife TV shows… of course the people we are studying are more dangerous than most of the animals of that show. I wonder where these CIA types come up with these names. Hmm… I wonder if it instead refers to Omaha Beach… some of these people seem to be storming their own beaches…"

His eyes stopped as he got to one name. The numbers were astonishing. They were exactly what he had hoped for. His smile was tired, but larger than any he had had for many long months. It had worked. He had seen so many patches, hotfixes, and recodes he didn't, he couldn't, count the actual number anymore, but finally it had worked. All of the other recruits had been washouts and quickly rejected as possibilities, but one had worked, and he was ecstatic.

Out of the many there was one, but that one was enough.