I promised you a full summary did I not? Here she be. As a note, I decided I didn't like the original, so I re-wrote it. I have a chapter list, and I've added a couple chapter to fit the changed plotline. There's a lot more character development now, and more descriptive writing. It was mostly written while I was eating gingersnaps and drinking Rootbeer, so any really weird stuff shall be credited to that. And it's really hard to type with my hand in a very long brace. Anyway, enjoy the show, and tell me what you think of the re-write. Feedback is very, very, very good.
Andrea didn't think that getting into the final, ultimate battle with her partner to decide if men were better than women in everything would cause this much trouble. But it did, and now she's stuck 1500 years in the past, with no help put a pocket full of random objects, an obsolete computer, and her own wits. She can't tell anyone who she is or where she comes from, and she never paid any attention on history class except on how the old technology worked and why people used last names, and now she has a huge problem on her hands. It doesn't help any that the people she becomes friends with are the founders of the school she goes to, and that they're kids with very little idea what they're doing, or that in order to get home she has to figure out how to defeat an AI gone rouge at his own game. Life's never looked bleaker, but Andrea has a few tricks up her sleeves. Or more accurately, hidden in her boots and pockets. Kadic Jr. High is never going to look the same way at new, mid-year transfer students. Especially not crazy ones who know way too much about all their subjects and have issues with hacking into the school's mainframe.
Fresh Encounters
At three in the afternoon, a scanner opened, and a dark haired, Japanese girl practically fell out. She was unusually tired for such a late time in the day, but traveling to a virtual world will do that to you. After resting for a second, she walked over to the elevator and punched the up button after missing it twice.
"Welcome back to earth." A blond young man called as the elevator doors opened.
"I've heard that one too may times before. There's no need to make fun of the fact that I'm always devirtualized first, Jeremie." the girl snapped as she came up to lean on his chair.
"Odd!" Jeremie yelled, "You're loosing life-points too fast!"
"Jeremie! You're not listening to me!"
"Yeah, yeah, whatever you say, Yumi." Jeremie replied, not listening to a word she was saying.
"Agh!" Yumi screamed, and stomped over to lean on the wall.
"There's a group of crabs headed your way." The computer hummed and whirred as Jeremie typed furiously, looking for anything that might help get his pink-haired crush safely to the tower she was headed for. Suddenly, he jerked upright as a spark from the screen zapped his nose, hitting a key with his elbow as he did so. The screen flickered slightly, and a very slight ripple shook the holomap. He blinked, shook his head, and stared curiously at the screen as something entirely unexpected happened.
Aelita screamed as the first shot was fired. She looked around desperately for any means of escape, only to find she was surrounded. Ulrich, noticing the one in front of her, ran forward. As it began charging the laser that would spell Aelita's doom, he stabbed it, dashing away again just before it exploded. Aelita whipped around, as the second crab scuttled closer without anyone noticing.
"ULRICH! THERE'S ANOTHER ONE BEHIN... Oh. It's gone now. Never mind."
By this point, Aelita wasn't the only one who had noticed the amazing disappearing crabs. Odd had attempted to shoot three, only to have them vanish as he fired.
"That makes no sense..." Jeremie muttered as he adjusted his glasses and tried to figure out what had happened. He didn't even notice as the screen flickered again, more violently, before going quite suddenly back to normal.
"What's going on?" Odd's rather annoyed voice asked over the intercom. "Why are they just vanishing?"
"I don't know! I can't figure out what I did!"
There was a moment of awkward silence, and then Odd spoke again rather hurriedly, "Well then, let's finish this."
They moved quickly and efficiently to the tower, Odd mopping up the last of the remaining opposition, destroying the crabs even as they vanished. As the last of Aelita's rather fluffy pink hair vanished from view, Ulrich turned to Odd as he heard a very loud smacking noise and a sharp Ow! from Jeremie.
"Yumi's obviously mad at somebody."
"I can tell."
The loud smacks continued, until, at last, Aelita came out, having deactivated the tower.
"Jeremie! We're finished!"
"That's -ow- good. Tell Yumi to stop hitting me!"
"You weren't listening to me!"
"OW!"
There was a scrabbling on the keyboard, and the three of them felt the familiar sensation of devirtualization as Jeremie's hurried typing took affect.
"Shall we go?" Odd asked with a grin. When they got to the supercalculator room, Yumi was hitting Jeremie with a rolled up newspaper as he cowered half-way under the desk. Ulrich and Aelita moved to separate the two as Odd took the newspaper away.
"He wasn't listening to me! And I'm cramping."
Aelita winced sympathetically, and continued to tug Jeremie out from under the desk.
"You really should listen to her. Or at least hide all the newspapers." Odd remarked as he opened the item in question and began reading it.
"How old is this thing? This is the same one she hit you with last month."
"It is?" Ulrich asked, while holding Yumi back.
"And the time before that, and the time before that. And perhaps the time before that." Odd opened the newspaper again, and continued reading. Aelita managed to get Jeremie out from under the desk, and Ulrich helped Yumi to her feet. Jeremie, looking rather warily at Yumi, began closing programs and shutting off the monitor. Aelita put an arm around Yumi's shoulders and began leading her off.
"Let's go get you some painkiller. It should help."
"If he would just LISTEN to me we wouldn't HAVE this problem!"
Aelita smiled apologetically over her shoulder and walked into the elevator, pressing the up button once both the girls were inside.
"You really should listen to her."
"I do!"
"Not in her eyes. It may have something to do with this time of month. Or she could be lacking a 'vital nutrient' as you put it last time."
The boys moved to the elevator. By the time they reached the surface, both the girls were nowhere to be seen. They moved towards the still open hole leading straight down into the earth, heading back to the school they had unceremoniously cut to help save the world.
Meanwhile, unbeknownst to the five now heading back to school, the supercalculator flickered on. The virtualization program opened itself automatically. There was a new card beside the others, showing a girl with long, dark brown hair. It faded, and the program closed again. In the other room, one of the scanners opened, and the girl pictured on the card stepped out. Her fiery brown eyes flickered over the room, taking in everything at a glance.
"Okay. This is so not the Academy."
She moved out of the scanner and turned to take a closer look. The sleek, cylindrical tubes, connected by huge cables to the main power grid, didn't appear to pass her inspection.
This definitely isn't the Academy. They're so bulky, and what's with those cables? They're ugly! No! Bad! Her hands twitched subconsciously as her inner artist complained about almost everything in the room. It's so blah! It needs a coat of paint, and some contrast. And cheese. I like cheese. Am I in the museum again? They have good cheese, and lots and lots of obsolete stuff. Like these scanners. Why are the ones at the Academy prettier? Maybe it's because the founders designed them, instead of whoever made these. Who did make these?
She moved on, turning to see the room from every angle, and spotted the elevator. She stood for a moment, staring at it, transfixed, and then practically ran over to it. I've never seen one of those! Is it real? How does it work? This is an elevator, right?I've seen pictures in my history book. Apparently they were used before transporters were invented to move people quickly from floor to floor. They also used stairs. I don't get those. They still have them in important, official places, and I can't ever keep my balance on them. Not that I can ever keep my balance anyway. She frowned, and kicked the elevator door with a resounding clang. Ow! That has to be in your top ten list of bad ideas, 'Drea. How do you open it? She looked around for any form of control for the elevator doors, face lighting up when she spotted the buttons that were mounted onto the wall beside it. I like buttons! Lots of buttons! Look at the buttons. What happens if you push them? Are they self destruct buttons? I like self-destruct buttons. She tentatively reached out and pushed one of them, causing the doors to open, and she leaped back in alarm. She promptly ran into elevator, the picture, except for the fact that she was obviously far too old, of a young child who had discovered something new. Look! More buttons! These ones have arrows on them. What did the history book say about them? Oh, right! Down arrow means go -1 level, up arrow means go +1 level, otherwise use the number to go to a specific level. But there aren't any numbers! Press a button. Which button? Down button. The elevator doors closed, and she felt a rumble as the floor started to move downwards. She threw herself to the floor and cowered there for a moment, before realizing that it wasn't an earthquake, and that she was being silly. She got her feet again, smiling sheepishly, even though there was no-one there to see her. The doors opened and she walked out, marveling at all the wires and cables.
"Jane? Where are you?" She called. There was no reply, and she looked around rather desperately. "Jane? Jane? Can you here me? Where are you?" She stopped, having realized the more pressing issue. "More importantly, where am I? I'm lost!" She wailed. Is this someone's idea of a prank to play on the crazy girl? Derek probably set me up. Stupid, dirty- no, don't think about him, focus on the problem at hand. Where am I, why aren't I where I'm supposed to be, and how do I get back? Pretties! She had finally spotted the supercalculator, a rather amazing feat as it took up most of the room. More obsolete software! I wonder how it works? Is is some form of computer? Does it obey voice commands? What's it supposed to do?
"Computer, On! Computer, On!" Hmm... Must be slow. Foolproof method should help. She kicked it, this time changing the angle of her foot so that the thick sole of her boot protected her slightly damaged toes. The computer flickered into life, unsurprisingly, as she had hit the monitors manual On button, not that she knew that. See, Jane? She thought to her nonexistent friend, Always works. Now, what does it do? She sat down and began going through the computer's main directory. After five or six unfamiliar programs she couldn't make heads or tails of, she hit upon a very familiar program, a school's main site and student directory. She looked at the screen, which was asking for a passcode. Passcode, passcode, passc... ultimate pass? They've probably blocked it, but it's worth a shot. Smiling slightly, she typed Wti$ffo2hiT496itot into the prompt box. The box vanished, leaving her free to mess with the site. She moved the mouse, getting ready to explore "Kadic Jr. High School"'s server, when something beeped. She jerked around, accidentally clicking the add student button as she did so. She couldn't identify where the sound had come from, so she turned back to the computer, only to be confronted by the new student information screen. Wha? When did that happen? Oh well. I'll fill it out! Fun! 'Drea like this, it's so... strange. Yep, that 's the word. I think. Why do they ask these questions? Why don't they just look up our numbers? I don't get it. The ATC has serious problems. Tu sos son de queso. Your brains are of cheese. I should tell that one to Evan. He'd like it. But not as much as he likes Jane. That's be pretty freaky if he did. Almost as freaky as the time Derek tried to hit on Kitty. 'Phestis didn't like that much. Neither did Kitty. He threw a sharp, pointy thingy at Derek, and she made a cloud of smoke follow him for weeks! She giggled at the memory of her normally dignified and immaculate partner dirty and disheveled because he had dared to confront her younger friend in a bad mood. An evil grin crossed her face as she imagined what she could do with the favors her other friends owed her to make Derek's life a living hell for a couple of days. It'd serve him right, too. Playing nasty tricks on innocent little 'Drea. She thought, conveniently forgetting the fact that she, too, had pranked him only the week before.
She hit the enter key, only to be confronted by a little box informing her that student names could not have numbers. She hit the enter key again, retyped her name in the box, and was presented with the same screen. Student names can not have numbers. She looked at what the little box was really asking her for, and finally noticed that it was not her number, it was her last name they wanted. But last names haven't been used since the Delegation of 2905. What is a last name, anyway? I know they mentioned it in history class. It was in that unit, the one where they were talking about the major changes of the 28 and 2900's. What did they say? She chewed her lip silently, desperately trying to remember what a last name was exactly. She sighed frustratedly, and then brightened as the metaphorical light bulb came on in her head. She smacked herself in the forehead, mentally scolding herself. Duh! The imperfect classification system used for most of history! How could I be so stupid? We only went over it a million times. And did that genealogy project on it. And that 3000 word long minimum paper on what your last name would have been if they were still used. And all the other assignments. Pity I can't remember what mine would have been. Could have used it now. Let's think, what name sounds good with Andrea Aideen? She thought for a moment, before getting a perfectly hysterical idea, to her mind, at least. Doria. Andrea Doria. The name of a boat. She typed it in, giggling slightly and trying to remember the rest of the story that went along with it. It sank, didn't it? She wrinkled her nose. Nice boat, ocean-liner thingy. Very pretty. Pity it sank. I want... Pancakes! Pancakes with butter, and syrup! Blackberry syrup... She thought dreamily as she hit the enter key yet again. The computer clicked and whirred, finally processing her unintended request. It beeped at her, startling her out of her daydream about fresh, fluffy pancakes and warm blackberry syrup. She glared at it murderously.
"Stupid obsolete computers that don't know when to shut up." She muttered under her breath. Another prompt box faced her, this time telling her that the student's age was incorrect. She scratched her head, unsure of what it wanted from her, then smashed her head against the keyboard, putting in a random series of letters, and surprisingly, only the numbers 1 and 4, and not any others. Do they want me to say I'm older than I am? Or younger? Or something else entirely? She made a face as she imagined what the AI this computer could have been would have sounded like. Matronly, sickly sweet, slightly overbearing. Now dear, the student's age cannot have letters either. She thought sarcastically to herself, then pressed the enter key. No prompt box came up to tell her she was wrong, and when she looked at the competed form, she saw that it had deleted all the letters she had put in, leaving her age as 14. She raised one eyebrow, then shrugged and looked over the rest of the information she had entered, suddenly realizing that if she said everything was good and proceeded to the next part of the form, something bad would probably happen, since Derek knew that once she had started filling out a form, she had to finish it. I can be so stupid sometimes. She sighed to herself as she continued checking the rest of her information. Name: Doria, Andrea Aideen. Good. Age: 14 Whatever. It doesn't really matter. Grade: 9. I'm in year 2, what's 9th grade?
As she continued to the next line, she grinned as she realized that even though she hadn't given them her parent's names or address, it hadn't corrected her. She wiggled slightly and skimmed the rest of the page until she reached some information she hadn't entered that had been filled in for her. Room: 100 Locker: 759 Combination: 7-33-19 P.E. Locker: 17 Combination: 25-3-25 She frowned and chewed on one of the thin shoulder-length braids framing her face. Lockers? Room numbers? Combinations? How old is this thing? She pressed the enter key a final time, and somewhere in the room, a printer began humming. Andrea heard something that sounded like footsteps above her, and guiltily closed the programs she had opened. She got up and began looking for the printer, eager to take away any evidence that she had been there. She found it, picked up the piece of paper it had just spat out, and froze as the time and date printed information caught her eye. January 12, 2006. She unfroze suddenly and began hurrying around, trying to find some conformation of what date it was, completely forgetting the footsteps above her. It was a good thing. Had she come up just then, she would have been caught by two men wearing black uniforms, who were looking for someone like her, sneaking around an old abandoned factory for no apparent reason. She spotted the newspaper that Odd had left for Yumi, and picked it up scanning the date. She could tell by the way it was crumpled and torn that it was a few months old, and realized that it must have been from at least a year ago. It said 2005, therefore the year was 2006. As this thought finished it's meandering way through her head, she realized what that meant exactly, and screamed.
The men, who had just left the factory, stopped as what sounded like a scream floated towards them. Then the wind blew through the factory doors, and they continued walking. It had only been a trick of the breeze after all.
Andrea stood there, frozen with shock for the second time that day. I'm trapped in the past. I'm not where I'm supposed to be. It doesn't exist yet. This is real. Oh God. It's real. Real. I'm not dreaming. Am I? Slowly, more floating than walking, she moved over to the wall, and then smacked her head against it, hard. Nothing happened, except that she now had a headache. Still mostly frozen with shock, under which lay the knowledge that her head was really going to hurt when she came fully to herself, she moved back to the elevator, clutching her schedule and student information so hard that her fingernails were biting into her hand. She pressed the place next to the button again and again, not noticing that nothing was happening. Finally her hand caught the edge of the button, and the doors opened. She walked in, continuing until she started bumping into the wall. She did that for a minute then turned to the elevator controls, pressing the up button without thinking about it, since her head was still repeating the refrain I'm stuck in the past. I can't go home.
When the elevator opened she walked out of the factory, mind thawing slightly in the sunshine, which made everything somehow easier to bear than in the subterranean lighting of the rooms beneath the factory floor. Still, she wasn't fully aware of everything around her, which is why when she reached the still open manhole, she fell down it, only alert enough to correctly position her body so that she didn't break anything. She lay there for a moment, mentally going over every part of her body, making sure nothing was out of line or in a strange position. Then she got to her feet, wincing with pain as she did so. She started down the sewer, following the faint marks of recent passage, like those of a few skateboards and a scooter of two might make.
When she climbed out of the sewer into a forest's afternoon sunlight, she was fully alert, with a pounding head and a smarting back. Still, despite her ordeals, she looked relatively neat and tidy, enough to keep people from noticing her, if there had been anyone to see her as she walked toward the looming building she could see off in the distance. When she reached it, she discovered it's dilapidated state, then promptly tripped over a rock, smashing one eye into a protruding root and the rest of her face into the ground. She got back to her feet, feeling her eye gingerly. That's going to leave a mark. She thought to herself angrily, as she turned to pick up the piece of paper that had slipped from her grasp. As she straightened up, she saw the second building, much larger than the first, with a large clearing around the part of it she could see. That one's obviously inhabited. I'll have to come back to this one some time. Look at what secrets it can reveal. Who knows, it might help me find my way back home. The small voice in the back of her mind asked if she really thought there was any question of her return, since time travel had never been attempted successfully before. She squashed it, refusing to loose hope in the face of her first setback. She set off again, touching her eye from time to time and mulling over what her existence over 1500 years in the past meant for her own time. As she walked down the sidewalk toward the main gates of what obviously was a school, she looked for its name. She smiled at the 'Kadic Junior High School prominently displayed on the fence. Slipping through the crack between the slightly ajar gates, she looked at the full glory of what was to be her school and home for the next indefinite amount of time. It really wasn't much. Most of the school was hidden in deep shadows, a high contrast to the windows reflecting the golden light from the setting sun. The sound of laughter and talking,and the clink of silverware brought her attention to the lit windows of the cafeteria, where she could see human silhouettes, and a few people leaving what must have been dinner. She followed their progress across the courtyard, and into what must have been the dormitories. She started walking towards them, keeping to the shadows in an attempt not to draw attention to herself and her new black eye. She walked through the door, and stopped.
"Oh, great. Just what I needed. Stairs." She stared at them, an insurmountable flight that would probably earn her a few more scrapes and bruises.
"What's wrong with them? My father paid a large amount of money to have them recarpeted I'll have you know." Someone said directly behind her.
Andrea whirled to see a black haired girl backed by two guys. The girl's hair was held back with a wide yellow ribbon, and, surprisingly, she wore both pants and a skirt. The taller of the two boys was blonde and rather stupid looking, and wore very short red shorts. The other boy was black haired, like the girl he followed, and had a very bad case of acne. He anxiously smoothed his green sweater, and looked adoringly at the girl's back, Andrea noticed with a small smile. He obviously has a huge crush on her. She thought to herself, tucking the information away for future reference.
"Nothing. I don't have anything against these stairs, just stairs in general. In fact, I'm sure there very nice stairs. I just have balance issues." She said, her smile widening and her face suddenly looking much younger.
"What happened to your eye?" The blonde boy asked curiously.
"Shut UP Nicholas." The girl growled to him. "You're new here, aren't you? She asked snidely, turning to Andrea.
"It's nothing, Nicholas? Is that your name? I'm sorry, I only partially heard what she said." Andrea said, ignoring the girl's question on a basis of idiocy. The boy, Nicholas, Andrea reminded herself, nodded shyly.
"What would you like me to call you? Or is Nicholas fine?" She said, moving forward and a little past the girl to face him. He looked rather stunned, as if no one had ever asked him that question.
"Nicholas's fine." He mumbled, blushing faintly. Andrea smiled at him, and his blush deepened.
"I fell again. It's really nothing, it'll clear up in a few days. Thank you for asking though." She said, giving the full reply his question deserved. She grinned at him for the first time, and he turned almost as red as his shorts.
"Wow, you really are new. Everyone knows he's as dumb as a post." The girl said, a cruel smile on her face. Nicholas hung his head, ashamed. Andrea moved forward and patted his shoulder.
"At least he asks sensible questions, instead of stupid ones like whether or not I'm new." Andrea spat, turning the insult on end.
The other boy lunged at her, and yelled "Don't talk that way to Sissi!" Nicholas gasped, and Sissi smirked slightly. Andrea calmly sidestepped the boy who was out for her throat, and cupped her hand around his instead. She held him there for a minute, then released him and moved out of her defensive position. He rubbed at his throat, and glared at her.
"You know, you really need to work on your technique. The way you did it left you wide open. If I hadn't been feeling nice because someone was concerned about my well-being, I probably would have just kicked you and let that be the end of that. What I used was a move straight out of Wan-Su, you know. One of my favorite self-defenses. Now, what your name?" She said, as if she was completely unaware of the death glare she was receiving. He didn't answer, so she turned back to the girl.
"You're...?"
"Sissi."
"Pleased to meet you Sissi, I'm Andrea." Andrea said, extending her hand and smiling, though she already had a bad feeling about Sissi's intents. Sissi didn't react, and Andrea shrugged and dropped her hand. She linked her hands and stretched her arms above her head.
"What're you doing?" Sissi asked as Andrea leaned backwards until her hands touched the floor, and then shifted her feet up into a handstand.
"Stretching." Andrea replied, as if it was obvious, and lowered herself into a gymnastics move called a candlestick. She proceeded to turn a backwards somersault and get back to her feet. As she slid into the splits, she looked at the small group of people that had gathered, having nothing better to do, as they had all left dinner early.
"Can any of you tell me what floor room 100's on?" She asked politely as she pressed one hand to the floor and lifted one foot above her head.
"It's the second story." A red-headed girl said as her African friend snapped a picture.
"Thanks!" Andrea said cheerfully, getting back to her feet and facing the stairs. She put her hands on the fifth step and swung herself up into a handstand, then backwards into a bridge, and then back upright. She repeated this move until she reached the second floor, and began walking down the hallway as if nothing untoward had happened. The girls in the crowd, who had followed her up the stairs, looked after her, some in stupefied amazement, some in awe, and some with unbelieving stares at her retreating back.
When she reached room 100, Andrea tried to open the door, only to find it locked. She frowned at the knob, then reached up and pulled a hairpin from her head. She knelt, and began staring intensely at it as she expertly picked the lock. Finally the door swung open and she walked inside, flipping on the lights as she did so, as it was now too dark to see without them. One side of the room had obviously been used recently. Though the posters were on all four walls, one of the beds had sheets, and one of the dressers had a sleeve hanging limply from inside one of the drawers. The other bed was bare except for a mattress, and Andrea immediately move to it, fishing in her pocket as she did so. After about five minutes of searching, she came up with sheets, pillows, a stuffed cat, patched, with fraying seams, and a giant, flame colored quilt. As she quickly made her bed, arranging the pillows and the cat artistically, even though she would be sleeping there in less than an hour, she looked around the room, gaging her roommate by her taste in colors and accessories. Since the other girls tastes didn't clash too much with her own, she decided that she was probably nice, though she immediately scolded herself for basing her decision on someone else's tastes, and not on who they actually were.
As she continued to mentally beat herself up, she moved over to the dresser, searching her pocket for the clothes she had shoved there three days before. She came up with some very random things, throwing them aside, until she came up with a long staff with metal capped ends. It was lovingly made of rich cherry, perfectly balanced by someone who knew what they were doing. She carefully propped it by the head of her bed, murmuring "Good, nice Charlotte, very nice Charlotte." As she did so, before going back to her search. Time passed and slowly her dresser, and her half of the room, became full and somewhat organized. She began cleaning up the strange things she had pulled out of her pocket, stopping now and then to tuck something she hadn't previously noticed into a drawer or onto a shelf. When she was finished, she looked around at the room, which had changed rather dramatically from its previous existence as a single girl's dorm into a room that now held pieces of Andrea, blending somewhat harmoniously with what had been there before. She sat down on the bed, ignoring her hunger pangs, and began yet again to search her pocket. Diary, Diary... Where is that blasted thing, I have a lot to say tonight. She wondered as she felt around. Extra dimensional pockets are one of the greatest inventions of the 28th century. The basic premise is that you take the space that your pocket would usually take up and connect it to an extra-dimensional space, and then shove everything you don't want to carry in there. The only down side, as Andrea knew very well, was that unless you were exceedingly organized, you could never find what you were looking for. Instead of her diary, Andrea so far had come up with her old teddy bear, a shoe horn, the school planner she had gotten from her older sister for Christmas, an English assignment that was two weeks overdue, and a rabbit cage. In short succession, a bottle of acne medicine, a very old left shoe, and a package of embroidery needles joined the small heap on the floor. The heap grew, and weirder stuff started coming up. She only paused in her relentless search to rub her stomach and bury her hunger pangs deeper. Meanwhile, down in the cafeteria, dinner was still going on, and the smell of spaghetti floated to her nose, levitating her cramps into the unbearable stage of hunger. At that moment, she came up with her mini-fridge, and proceeded to eat until she no longer hurt, before placing it under her bed and continuing to search for her diary.
