The Diego Diaries: Return (dd6 261)
-0-Ops Center, The Fortress
Prowl walked in with a grim aura heading for the table to sit. Ratchet who was nearly ready to leave relaxed a moment. Prowl sat, then stared at the datapad. Ratchet leaned closer. "How are you, Prowler?" he asked in a soft voice.
Prowl glanced at him with the usual snarky response ready, but he didn't say it. "This is going to be a problem."
Ratchet thought a moment about the comments he gleaned from Princep. "It could be that they need to decompress. They seemed pretty flat line to me."
"That's who they are. What you're seeing is them," Prowl said. He sat back fixing Ratchet with a appraising expression. "I never really told you much about my family sober."
Ratchet grinned. "No. You were a rebel. That's about it."
Prowl vented a sigh. "My family is one of The One Hundred."
"Really?" Ratchet asked with surprise.
"My ada's family descends from them, the slagging 100, the ones who stepped in and filled the gap when the Functionalists were routed. There was enormous wealth and power always but they were never crass enough to be seen wielding either in public. They were kingmakers and they were that powerful. Over the vorns, customs took over and there were layers of behavior and expectation that had to be maintained. It nearly crushed my genitors. They had no idea what to do with me, The Legacy. I was the first crack in the dam and The Fall and Diaspora was the breach for my genitors. Consider what we've all suffered. Even hard helms like my genitors saw the light, but not them.
"They have such a rigid social code that they can't be anything but who they are. They're holding up Cybertron, don't you know, on their shoulders. They keep the keys and the secrets. Their wealth was so great I couldn't begin to tell you and they could stop a charging rhino with a single gaze. Kingdoms rose and fell according to their whims. No, cancel that. They don't have whims. They do have calculation and traditions. My genitors were a matched bond. They didn't know each other until they bonded. It was a slagging miracle that they were so good for each other. They love each other madly."
"Its only one of a billion parts of their charm, Prowl. Your genitors are wonderful," Ratchet said.
"They weren't before here," Prowl said. "We would live in mansions, in apartments in the sky. We had summer homes. Think about that. We had social obligations and each generation had to conform to the parade. It was claustrophobic to a degree I can't explain. I rebelled to save my spark. It drove them mad. I thought they would invoke a few times but, apparently, my genitors intervened. I didn't know that they did."
"Well, you know … love and all ..." Ratchet replied.
Prowl grinned. "I never thought I would have theirs. I never expected that they would understand how to give it and I really never knew what that was. I had a strange ambition to spite them. They wanted a physicist and mathematician. They wanted someone to carry on the family tradition of shaping Cybertron from within. I studied all of that and earned the degree but I put my time and attention into law enforcement because it might mean change was possible for all of us. I wanted to take down the corruption and the slaggers who were making everyone so fragging miserable. I had a lot of inside knowledge. I wanted to use it."
"Paybacks?" Ratchet offered.
Prowl considered that. "Yeah. Paybacks. I used to sneak out and go into the city when I was younger. I saw how the other 99% lived. I wish I could tell you of the shame I felt wandering around, seeing things that should never have happened if we had only practiced what we believed. All are one? Frag that." He stewed a moment. "Funny how self deluding cultures and groups are. We trotted out our creed when it was convenient but we never lived it. The humans don't either. I read an Oxfam report that said in 2017, 80% of all the wealth created on Earth went to 1% of the world's population. We did that. Notice how it ended. Shall I tell them?" he asked bitterly.
"Something tells me, Prowler, that they already know," Ratchet replied.
"And they don't care anymore than we did."
"Where are they now? How are your genitors?" Ratchet asked.
"Home resting, my grand genitors" Prowl replied. "My genitors feel terrible and I don't think it'll get better."
"For the sake of argument … what if they decide to invoke over something. What's going to happen?" Ratchet asked. "Do you and your genitors have options?"
Prowl considered the question, then pulled a laptop over. Tapping on the device, he watched the data. "I have never heard of anyone defying an invocation and the database confirms it. Out of all that were filed, none were ever challenged."
"Is there a process to do that?" Ratchet asked.
"I've never heard of one," he said as he worked on the computer. He studied the answer, then leaned back. "No. There's no mechanism."
"You Praxians have a fragged culture," Ratchet said.
"Tell me about it," Prowl said.
"Where's the Messiah?"
"He's on Cybertron. He came with, which helped no end. He explained the new paradigm to them and they listened but didn't react. It's like I'm a child again having to visit their house." Prowl frowned. "I hated that. They were sort of the anti-fun."
Ratchet nodded. "I'm sorry for all of it. I just lived in a tenement. I played in the street. Everyone's old amma and appa sat on the stoops and watched us while everyone else worked. We didn't have slag and it was hard, but we didn't live up each others aft. A fight in the alley took care of just about everything, or a visit to someone's appa and amma. My own could drop me to my knees with a single glance. I always thought your end had it going on but the more I learn, the more I feel badly for all of you."
"You shouldn't. Our way of life created all of this," Prowl said.
"But forgiveness and living the right way, BEING the creed … that will make it better … it will make the change we need. Your grand genitors are hard afts and we have a duty to help them change," Ratchet said.
"And if they don't?" Prowl asked.
"Then, as the soldiers say … they're going to be a pair of really lonely motherfuckers."
Prowl smirked slightly. "I really like that word."
Ratchet grinned. "I do, too. Funny story. Will Lennox said his mom, Thelma, used to say 'mo-fo', the shorthand version of it around the house. Finally, he asked her, "Mom, do you know what that word means?" Not being a heathen like her son, she said, "No. It's just a funny cute word, right?" He told her and she nearly melted through the floor. All he has to do is whisper 'mo-fo' in her ear to have her hop around the room in mortification."
Prowl slowly smirked, then grinned, then chuckled. "Thanks. I needed that. I like Thelma. She's a nice woman. I will be sure to mention the word around her next time we meet."
"That's my Prowler," Ratchet said with a grin. "I'm going to find the three oldest Cybertronians that I know and ask them about this. I'm also going to try and find Alpha. I'll report back when I do."
"Thank you, Ratchet. We have to have our ducks in a row," Prowl said. He grinned. "I like that, too."
Ratchet laughed as he stood. "I do, too. You alright?"
"For now," Prowl said with a grin.
Ratchet nodded. "Then my work here is done." He walked off to the doors with a brisk step.
Prowl watched him go. "I'm afraid its only just begun, my friend." He vented a sigh, then dove into his refuge against intractable problems … his job.
-0-Temple of Primus Restored, Temple District, Autobot City, Primal Colony of Mars, Cybertron and the Empire, Postal District #1
He walked in, hurried across the platform, then down the steps to the Well. Pausing long enough to bow to both the Well and AllSpark, he walked toward the offices that occupied part of the lower level. Down the hallway he walked, pausing to chat with the odd acolyte and priest, civilian employee and/or volunteer helper, he found the door he wanted. A big office filled with bookshelves groaning with texts, datapads and other creations of their people's ancient genius, a desk occupied a corner. Couches and chairs filled another.
"Hi," Ratchet said with a smile. "I see you're working out the hidden corners of our history."
"I try," Alpha said as he sat back with a grin. "What brings you here, my friend? Deep philosophical conflicts? A need to confess? The latest gossip which I don't know?"
"You haven't got the vorns, Alpha, to hear it all," Ratchet said with a dazzling smile. He subbed a can of candy. "Would it offend some deeply held notion of self denial if you sit here and eat candy?"
"Oh, frag, no," Alpha said as he caught the can. He arose and walked to another chair to sit and open the can. "Ah, the good stuff."
"Only the best," Ratchet said with a chuckle as he unsubbed his own can. They ate a bite, then Ratchet grinned. "So … sachem … how's it going?"
"Well," Alpha said. "I find my life's arrangement conducive to my happiness. Part time in the Temple doing research and keeping the Chronicles, part time in the archives of the various museums, the university and the Monastery giving wisdom even if I don't have it. Life is good."
"That's good to hear," Ratchet replied. "I have a few questions I need answers to, if possible."
"You haven't asked Optimus? He's rather talented with insights," Alpha said.
"He is. He's the Messiah, after all. He has that certain something … something old and shiny perhaps?" Ratchet glanced pointedly at Alpha who grinned.
"Are you seeking something, Ambassador? Asking directly helps," Alpha said.
"I have before," Ratchet replies. "For the sake of argument, let me pose a mech who has a tendency to be self denying and often finds himself called 'The One Who Comes'. What can you decipher from that?"
Alpha chuckled. "You want to know about Thirteen. You seem to imply that I might know."
"Now you get humble," Ratchet replied with a grin. "Seriously, now you get coy?"
He grinned. "If you say so."
"I would like to know a few things, Alpha. I want to know the down deep about Praxian culture. Not the Elites. I have a pipeline into them. I want to know about the rest, the other Praxians who live with a pipe wedged sideways in their afts." Ratchet grinned. "You know … the hoi poloi."
Alpha snickered. "They wouldn't want to hear you say that around them. The pipe and all … its so declasse."
Both laughed loudly.
"Do tell," Ratchet said as he tapped his can to Alpha's in salute.
"Well, what can I say? I lived in Praxus for eons and kept an apartment, shop and lab in Iacon. I had the best of both worlds. Praxus, as you know was a wondrously beautiful city with learning everywhere. Its rather an academic's dream come true. The Elites congregated there because some of them came from that area and it was always a place of research and development from the slave masters. The learned were there and so the soldiers came together to protect that against exploitation once more. They developed their own ways of living in reaction to the others, to keep them in check. They were the ones who had to fight so they made sure that fighting wasn't the first item on the high caste list of must dos.
"As they gathered, so did a lot of the molders of The System. After the Functionalists were defeated, they ran the show, beating everyone into place as they sorted through the Functionalist system and modified it to impose gradually on everyone until the population thought it was normal and necessary.
"The wealth congregated in Polyhex as the financial capital, Capital City as the center of power and politics, Iacon as the center of everything that mattered, and Praxus as the brains of the entire venture. Out of that grew the castes that drove us all into the ground. It solidified around them and their modification of the Functionalist System but it became something else. There were few checks on them though the Elites have more powers than maybe they can remember. What is your underlying question?"
"Is there any check on the practice of invoking on your family? Someone I know has a pair of grand genitors that are a piece of work and there's the danger of invocation. What, if anything can they do?" Ratchet asked.
Alpha considered that for a moment. "Well, I think there are things the older ones can remember, perhaps. I've never heard of anyone ever contesting one. That doesn't mean that there isn't a way. I would have to ask around."
"Please do and let me know, Alpha." Ratchet grinned. "Now that that's taken care of, tell me about your love life."
They both laughed loudly.
-0-In an apartment in Nova Cronum, The Crater District, Primal Colony of Mars, Cybertron and the Empire
They sat in their chairs watching the monitor play the news. It was disconcerting to see something so familiar in such a new circumstance. All refugees had that to a degree with some needing psychological help. Most recovered quickly and they would be among them.
Shadow had made 'tea', then put treats on a plate. They sipped it as they watched and commented on the news, discussing together what they were hearing on the screen. Having made a check of the call record for those they knew, they had located several friends from the old orns and made an appointment for a meet up for dinner.
"I hadn't considered that so many of our friends had survived to come here. It will be good to see Lucien and Laslo again," Shadow said.
Zenith nodded. "I agree," he said as they sat together in the mid morning in their apartment in the sky.
-0-TBC 1-30-18 edited 2-2-18
NOTE
In the books and shows, Alpha has a big ego and he's a more regular guy than some have portrayed him. He's one of the more interesting folks all around.
Oxfam is an organization dedicated to eradicating hunger and poverty. They are mucho influential.
Sachem: (sah-sheem) a wise and learned person, in some cultures, a medicine man/woman. A name given in great honor to an elder who is wise and usually leads in some way a group.
Declasse: (day-class-ay) common, ordinary
The Lennox-Thelma 'mo-fo' story actually happened to me and my sweet mom. :D