Disclaimer: See Prologue
Trial by Ed
Chapter X: Silver Ed
"…or can we get on with things?"
Edd somehow managed to extract his computer from his pocket (the cables still miraculously wired into his bedroom power bar), and, with a little positioning, sat poised to record the proceedings. "Well, it would be advisable for any other observations to be brought to the table before we delve further into matters."
Kevin, eye twitching, was about to say something along the lines of 'I think you've delved way deep into this already, Double Dweeb', when Jonny broke in, announcing joyously, "I make acorns grow into trees!" A beat, then Jonny responded to the silence, "How could I ever forget you, buddy?" He lifted up Plank so that all might see him. "And Plank knows things! He sees a lot, and hears stuff too!" Nearby, Marie snorted into her coffee—only to cringe under a hardwood gaze.
Jonny heard Plank murmur that the water-girl needed psychiatric help before the wood drew back within himself, as he always did when he was sensing beyond Jonny's range of seeing. Jonny took the hint, and listened to the whispering of the Woods and the Trees, the Swimming Hole, the Cliff, and even the old Earth Mother and Nature herself.
They were whispering more than usual today; there was a change in the water…
The Atmosphere and the Hydrosphere were encountering more distortion than they were accustomed to. That earthquake yesterday was not natural…
He listened in to the emotions of the animals; their instincts were often so loud and complex he couldn't hear their thoughts, but he could still feel strong emotions. Though those were typically useless, catching up on what his fellow forest-dwellers were feeling was still a good exercise to do. This time, however, he picked up on the fear rife in the air, and a general, mutually-held thought accentuated by supportive instinct: a new predator was afoot. Rolf?
He blinked, realizing that his blue-haired buddy had tentatively raised his hand; he blinked again in disbelief; then stared—Rolf's farm-forged hand was, shockingly, trembling.
∙–∙–/–––/∙∙–/∙–∙/∙–/––∙/∙/∙∙/∙∙∙/–∙/–––/–/–/∙∙∙∙/∙/∙–/–∙∙∙/∙∙∙/∙/–∙/∙–∙–/∙/–––/∙∙–∙/∙∙–∙/∙/∙–/∙–∙/––∙∙––/–∙∙∙/∙∙–/–/∙–∙/∙–/–/∙∙∙∙/∙/∙–∙/–/∙∙∙∙/∙/∙–––/∙∙–/–∙∙/––∙/––/∙/–∙/–/–/∙∙∙∙/∙–/–/∙∙∙/–––/––/∙/–/∙∙∙∙/∙∙/–∙/––∙/∙/∙–∙∙/∙∙∙/∙/∙∙/∙∙∙/––/–––/∙–∙/∙/∙∙/––/∙––∙/–––/∙–∙/–/∙–/–∙/–/–/∙∙∙∙/∙–/–∙/∙∙–∙/∙/∙–/∙–∙/∙––––∙/
"Friends Double D Edboy and Kevin, Rolf fears for his livestock." So quoth the deceptively simple Son-of-a-Shepherd.
Kevin's eyes flicked pointedly to Edd's, his desperate look saying, You're on your own, dude. Edd sighed; he had known that was going to happen, but it put him nonetheless in an uncomfortable position—again! Calming his exterior, he began to say, "Dear Rolf, we've been over this before. You are not a wolf—you are—"
"Edboy! Why must you return the butter to the churn?" Rolf interrupted. "Rolf knows he is not a wolf in the flesh—but what of the mind?"
Edd stared. "The mind?" he echoed, trepidation filling his voice. Oh, dear…
"Yes," Rolf confirmed. "All the night and this morning Rolf has been hearing the voices in his head growing louder, to seek, to hunt, to eat…to kill." Across from him, Jimmy squeaked, and hid behind Sarah, who was hiding behind…May?—who, though barely tolerating being used as a human shield, was permitting them shelter, most likely because of Sarah's connection to her favorite Ed.
Her second favorite Edd, however, was less than frightened; furiously typing, the look of glowing intensity on his face indicated that he was making a breakthrough in something—something, that is, among the billion and one questions he sought to answer on a daily basis.
Rolf only snorted. "Fear not, crybaby Jimmy and louder-than-Gertrude-on-Bathday Sarah; the voice calls you all pack—never to be harmed. Jonny-the-Woodboy's stick of wood remains lumber in its nose, but Rolf's livestock…do not hold that same fortuitous safety." Even a casual observer would have seen that the eldest of the Kids' ranks was filled to the core of his being with well-placed anxiety—far more fear in his soul than what was driving his youngest friend.
Even as the crowed had fallen silent, the tick-tacking of the keyboard kept its steady pace—increasing, in fact. Rolf growled, about to ask the nervous typist to turn off that infernal racket, when Double D summarized his observation aloud. "Fascinating! It seems that in Rolf's particular patterns, the modifications have somehow resulted in the manifestation of a set of lupine—wolf-like—instincts! I wonder why…if this was deliberate, I mean…" He trailed off, for once at a loss for terminology.
"You'll figure it out," Kevin said, steering the course of conversation away from the 'whys' to the 'what's' of the current dilemma. "Got any ideas about fixing this?"
Nazz, of all people, thought she had found an answer to Rolf's predicament. Unlike Rolf, who had never had a dog because of his people's perception of them as 'unclean', Nazz had grown up around them—her grandfather had been a dog trainer, first for the military, during World War II, then for an assortment of police forces and private employers up until his retirement; it had been he who had taught her, at the ripe old age of five, the connection between the dog and the wolf; and demonstrated to her that that link is vital, and still very much alive. Ah, she remembered that day…
–/–––/∙–∙∙/∙∙/∙∙∙–/∙/∙∙/–∙/∙∙∙∙/∙/∙–/∙–∙/–/∙∙∙/∙––/∙/∙–∙∙/∙/∙–/∙∙∙–/∙/–∙∙∙/∙/∙∙∙∙/∙∙/–∙/–∙∙/∙–∙–∙–/∙–∙–∙–/∙–∙–∙–/
"Why are they howling, Granpa?" she had asked, peering over the wood-and-wire fencing to the sled dog kennels.
Robert "Buck" Campbell looked down at his granddaughter, bundled into a comical ball of fabric against the light Minnesota snowfall. "Because they're excited," he explained kindly. "They know they'll get to work today."
The tiny girl frowned, and struggled against his supporting hand—the only thing keeping her from plummeting off the wooden bottom rung and taking a tumble in the developing snowdrifts. "NOO, Granpa!" she complained. "WHY are they howling? Wolves howl, not dogs."
Her senior smiled with good humor, a small smirk inching its way into the corners of his mouth. "What makes you think that, Nazzie?"
Nazz opened her mouth, then clamped it shut just as fast, and sulked, knowing that he wouldn't accept her automatic answer of 'Wolves are evil and dogs are nice', even if she did tell him her teacher had told her at storytime. Instead, after a nice-and-long minute-long thought, she answered, "Wolves don't look like dogs."
The knowing smile was still beaming down on her. "Come now, Nazzie-Jazzie," her grandfather reasoned, pointing over the fence at some bouncing grey lumps beyond the snowdrifts. "Can you honestly say that in their presence?" Nazz looked again, this time clearly seeing the two grey lumps were in fact large—not by her standards, of course; she had seen bigger—dogs, bounding toward her on leads. To his satisfaction, his granddaughter shook her head, speechless.
She had never seen a wolf up close—the closest thing to a wolf she had seen had been a picture in her Animals A-to-Z book, that had looked very different from the wolf she was used to seeing in her picture books at home—but, thinking back to that picture, she couldn't imagine that a real-life wolf would look much different from one of these…
"Are you sure they're dogs, Grampa?" she whispered, as the wolf-things bounded away from her, reeled in by their handler. "They sure don't look like dogs."
"They're dogs, Nazzie," he replied with a chuckle. "Siberian Huskies. A very old breed of dog that we haven't needed to change very much from the wolf." Nazz stared at him in confused disbelief; he sighed. "Honestly, Nazz. Where do you think that dogs come from?"
Again, the kindergartener stared, mind going blank. "Um…" she hesitated, thinking hard. "…Dogs?"
Much to the consternation of the young girl, too naïve to understand just what she had said, her grandfather burst out laughing. It was a big, hearty laugh, one that lasted for over a minute before slowly dying down. "I'm sorry, Nazzie," he apologized, still chuckling. "I haven't laughed that hard since your grandma went." The morbid reminder was enough to bring an end to his joviality.
Undeterred, Nazz asked, "What's so funny, Grandpa?"
Awkwardly, the elder replied, "Er…you'll find you when you're older." Nazz knew what that meant—she wouldn't be getting an answer out of him. Her frustration was diverted, however, as her grandfather said, "You are correct, though. Dogs do come from dogs. And you can keep going back with that—a kind of chicken-and-egg thing, you see—but eventually there comes a time when you cannot circle back further."
"The dinosaur, right?" Nazz guessed, remembering the old joke.
Her grandfather shook his head. "Not this time, Nazzie. Not dinosaur—Wolf." He was smiling again, mind again on his favorite subject. "Man took Wolf and shaped him. And that is how Man created Dog."
"But Granpa," Nazz broke in; he looked down, though his mind still in 'The Zone'. "Dogs don't act like wolves—wolves don't like people; you told me!"
"You are both right and wrong. Wild wolves don't like people; they like their own packs. Dogs like people because we have shaped them to think of us as pack," the old trainer said. "That's how we made the dog—we didn't get rid of the behaviors of wolves, just changed them to suit our needs. To create the sled dog, people didn't have to do much—wolves love to run to begin with, and all that was needed was to get the dog to run for running's sake. To make the sheepdog work, though, we took the wolf's hunting instinct and removed the 'kill and eat' part from the end result, and made the dog capable of working without the 'pack leader'—it's owner—to be there every step of the way. For hunting dogs, all that was needed was to make them very obedient to humans, and to not 'eat'—killing the prey was originally the point, but for scenthounds—like bloodhounds, you've seen them," he said, reminding Nazz of the trip to the police kennel that Sunday, "we had to separate the 'kill' and the 'eat' parts from the 'hunt and find' part. You see?" Nazz didn't see, but she tried to remember exactly as he said, sound for sound, concluding that this was one of those 'You'll understand when you're older' things. She nodded.
"You take the wolf's instincts and give them a new home…" His voice trailed off as Nazz drew herself out of the flashback, her grandfather's voice still lingering, echoing, in her ears. She didn't get it then, but she could see what he was trying to tell her now.
She had Rolf's answer.
∙–∙–∙–/∙–∙–∙–/∙–∙–∙–/∙∙/∙∙∙/–∙/–––/–/–/–––/–∙∙/∙∙/∙/∙–∙–∙–/
"You need to keep busy." All heads turned to the blonde fourteen-year-old, startled.
Uncertain about what his maybe-girlfriend (their status never had been confirmed) was thinking, Kevin gently reminded, "Erm… Nazz, this is Rolf we're talking about. He's always busy." He knew she knew as well as anybody that Rolf already was working a full-time job on the family farm—heck, even Double D had more free time than him!—but really, what else was there to say?
Nazz rolled her eyes; she had been anticipating this reaction. "Well, duh. But that's not what I'm saying—I mean that Rolf should keep busy with things that are similar to whatever wolves do. You know, like, taking the 'hunt' part and turn it to tracking down lost sheep, dealing with the 'kill' voice by doing some butchering, and handle the 'eat' thing by…eating?"
"I see what you're saying," Double D said, nodding his head. "Rolf should try to channel his new set of artificial instincts into productive outlets appropriate for daily living, if it is possible…but that's a significant uncertainty. I've met your grandfather—everyone has—oh, excuse me," he said, realizing he had forgotten the currently confused—and ergo irritated—Kanker Sisters' status as relative newcomers, and explained to their benefit, "Nazz's grandfather was an animal trainer, specializing in canids—mammals of the dog family." He shrugged. "I think likely that it is his teachings you're deriving your idea on, Nazz—his teachings on how instinctive dog behavior was derived from wolf psychology. That does make sense, but only over the course of generations, with natural and artificial selection placing pressures to determine the outcome, and the generations providing the opportunity for genetically-based wolf behaviors to be deleted or adequately suppressed in individual animals." Nazz's eyes widened as she saw where this was going, and she groaned, palm hitting her temple—how could she have missed that? "Now, with Rolf, who is not a population, there is no way of doing away with them entirely. So even if he can channel some of those instincts into certain aspects of his life—which is really quite advisable—Rolf will still have to deal with any that he isn't channeling—at any time, all the time, as often and regularly as breathing. Deliberate suppression of instincts as they arise will be necessary, and perhaps avoidance of situations that bring out unwanted instincts…"
"Head-In-Cap Edboy and Nazz-girl! You insult Rolf!" The subject of conversation had finally managed to break into the debate. Realizing his rudeness and too polite to defend his actions—or point out that Rolf was missing the point entirely—Double D tuned into the foreigner's words. "…you speak of Rolf without regard for his presence, you also dare suggest that Rolf loses his livestock every five fields! Not so! Rolf and Family of Rolf take great cares to keep our animals in check, and our animals do not stray!"
…Apparently, the matter had (understandably) upset the Son of a Shepherd to the point where he had lost his ability to speak proper grammatically-correct English. Edd opened his mouth, about to apologize for his callousness, when Kevin, who had been covertly speaking with Ed, interrupted them all. Ed was grinning, smitten with pride and excitement, as Kevin spoke:
"So Rolf needs something to hunt, huh? Then we'll give him something." He flicked his gaze to Rolf, and says, "Something other than your farm, Rolfie."
Ed broke in, with full support, "Superheroes hunt for evil doers, and aren't punished for it!" He was practically bouncing in his seat—his two neighbors—Eddy on one side and Sarah on the other—edged away from him, giving him space. "They fight, hurt the bad guys, but aren't bad themselves. So Rolf shall be," he concludes confidently, and joins Kevin in staring almost admiringly at Rolf. "Go Rolf-Wolf!"
Rolf considered this, hopes raising. "Use Rolf's new wolfishness to foil the plots of villainous lawbreakers?" Then, the boy smiled—Edd tried to avoid staring at the kid's canines, that had indeed grown long and sharp—and said, "So simple, yes? Very good, Kevin and wit-of-half-a-chicken Edboy!" Ed started beaming—whether it was for the chicken reference than Rolf's acceptance of his superhero potential would forever remain a mystery.
Jonny, known by all present to be the local "Real-Life Superhero" (discounting that one stint he had spent as the villainous Gourd), jumped in, "You can join me and Splinter on patrol, Rolf!" He really sounded excited at the prospect of having his friend join him 'on the job'.
"Rolf accepts your offer, Jonny-the-Woodboy." At the prompting of an odd thought-feeling in Rolf's head, he took a panoramic glance at the circle. "Will there be any other takers?"
Jonny was about to say that he hadn't invited everyone—but then he realized what a great idea it was: his own superhero team! "Isn't this cool, Plank?" he whispered to his friend.
Ed was about jumping of the seat, ready to 'enlist', but something—i.e. Eddy's fingers—stopped him. From next to Eddy, Edd exhorted in a hushed voice, "Ed, please think about what you're doing for once! Do you realize the danger you'd be putting yourself in? What would Sarah think if something happened to you?" The big Ed's eyes widened with fright; the other two could almost see the wheels turning in his head, and the thought 'Sarah, don't tell Mom!' reeling around in that hollow cavity.
…Then, just as quickly as he had tensed up, Ed relaxed, realizing that the anticipated outcome hadn't happened yet. Good. But if I say I'm going to become a superhero, then Sarah will know, and she'll tell Mom, and I'll be GROUNDED! And that'll be bad… Ed reasoned to himself. "Gee, thanks, guys. Close salve."
"You mean 'save', Ed," Edd corrected, returning to his scriptorial work…only to wince, slamming his fingers down on the keys, as a whistle pierced the air. "Ooh… Sloppy-sloppy-sloppy…" he mumbled under his breath, control-Z-ing his work back to its original, non-gibberish content.
The chatter dying down, Kevin, the whistler, took charge. "Great thinking, Jonny," he said. "Rolf, you'll need to practice—in private, I know," he preempted Rolf's protest. In a stroke of brilliance, he decided aloud, "We'll use the Old Gym," referring to the gym at their "Old School", Peach Creek Middle; "I've still got the key, and they're closed today."
"I'll take out the security cameras for you," Edd volunteered, setting aside his regard for the rules in favor of securing the secrecy of his friends' clandestine activities.
Kevin froze for a moment, stunned but pleased. "…Thanks, Double D," he nodded, genuinely grateful and not a small part relieved. Even if he did turn out to have some mad techno-powers, he knew that there was no way he, at least for the time being, would be able to pull off the miracles the whiz-kid performed on a daily basis. Then, something occurred to him. "…Um… any idea about how to make our powers work? You know, like, on purpose?"
∙∙∙∙/∙∙–/––/∙–/–∙/∙/–∙∙–/∙––∙/∙/∙–∙/∙∙/––/∙/–∙/–/∙–/–/∙∙/–––/–∙/∙∙/∙∙∙/∙–∙–/∙∙∙∙/∙∙/∙–∙∙/–∙∙/∙––––∙/∙∙∙/∙––∙/∙–∙∙/∙–/∙–∙––/–∙–∙––/
Edd's eyes lifted over the monitor screen for a short moment, then flicked down. "A minute, if I may," he said, and quickly flipped back through the files in his briefcase, tilting the processor dangerously in his haste. Eddy leaned over to catch it—imagine how much money that thing must cost!—only to be stopped about an inch away by some…force. Then Edd jubilantly cried, righting himself, "Aha! Found it!" — Faster than the brain could register, Eddy recoiled.
Edwardian antics unawares, Eddward flipped to a page, scanning the lines. "Not exactly, Kevin," he answered. "While there is a pattern to how we may control our powers, that pattern is that 'the method by which one controls one's powers appears to be based on the mindset, personality, and interests—among other factors—of the individual in question'—hardly a guide for all of us to follow." Inwardly, Kevin groaned; he should have known it couldn't be this easy. Blissfully unaware of the captain's frustration, Edd continued, "There is a more promising possibility."
"Shoot," Kevin prompted; things were looking up—not that they could have gone lower.
Edd nodded, elaborating. "From my observations, however, I have discerned another pattern, perhaps more useful to us. Our powers seem to be able to activate in three ways—consciously, subconsciously, or reflexively. Marie Kanker's powers manifested subconsciously and maintained strength throughout much of the morning. She was then able to replicate it through willpower—but she had had plenty of time with her powers activated to figure out how to do so. Most of us have not had that luxury. For instance, the shield I…emitted… activated on reflex when Eddy was about to crash into me, and disappeared just as quickly. Perhaps, by replicating the circumstances that resulted in reflexive manifestations of power, we may be able to familiarize ourselves with what we are capable of doing, determine how to 'turn them off'… Especially for you, Rolf, as I doubt that you want to knock yourself into unconsciousness every time you need to return to your original form." Rolf flinched at the memory, agreeing with the Sock-as-a-Hat Edboy completely. "Once we figure out how to turn them off, we should be able to use the same mechanism to 'turn them on' again."
Kevin cocked an eyebrow. "…You sure about this?"
"Well, it hasn't been tested yet…" Edd admitted. "…but I am fairly confident that…" He trailed off, his tone of voice betraying his anxiety. No, without another subject from which to draw data he wasn't confident at all in this plan. "…It seems to be the most logical procedure." He bit his lip, clamming up.
"We need a test subject, then." At the surprised looks of all around him, Kevin explained, "It makes sense to try it out now, since we're all here."
"Can't argue with that," Lee Kanker agreed, without protest from her siblings.
…With the Kankers as backers, any thought of protesting the plan flew out the fire escape.
∙–/–∙∙/∙∙∙–/∙∙/∙–∙–/∙/––/∙–/ –∙––/–∙∙∙/∙/∙––/∙–∙/–––/–∙/––∙/––∙∙––/–∙∙∙/∙∙–/–/∙/–∙∙–/∙–/––/∙––∙/∙–∙∙/∙/∙∙∙/∙––∙/∙–∙/–––/∙∙∙–/∙/–/∙∙∙∙/∙/––/∙∙∙/∙/∙–∙∙/∙∙∙–/∙/∙∙∙/∙–∙–∙–/
Notes for Reviewers:
Helena: Hello, again! Knowing Eddy, chances are how his powers work will not get touched upon…well, by him, anyway. Of course, who knows what will come up in pseudo-scientific ramblings, what with Double D and the Lab Rats (we'll meet them in a couple of chapters).
Spindash: 1) Well, I hope you got your answer—on some of the characters, anyway. 2) And thank you so much for your input on the exposition chappies—I've been really, really nervous about them, because of their length, detail, and… lack of action? I mean, this is turning out to be more of a thinking story, so it really shouldn't be that much of an issue, but… Yeah. You're the first counter-opinion to that particular Pandora's Box of insecurities, so again, thanks. 3) I have never heard of inFamous, so if it does come out similar, I suppose it would be a case of convergent thought-lines.
Notes for Readers: Hello, all! Got this published in the weekend, as I promised. Just one more chapter, and we'll finally be getting out of the swimming hole. I'm really quite excited about that—the chapter after next chapter will include one of my favorite scenes written for this story so far! (You'll never guess what it's about! ; ))
Unfortunately, that's going to be after I've tackled the homework that's been piling up this week while I've been working on this thing. Fun. So, no more updates this weekend; see ya next week!
~The Arcticourt Spellwright
