Chapter Three: Resume
October 18th, 2006 - mid-morning
I really really wish I had gotten that coffee.
It's not that I'm dependant on it. It's just that if anything was going to soothe my nerves right now it was either caffeine, tobacco, or booze. Seeing as I gave up smoking three decades ago (not because of health issues, obviously - they were just getting bloody expensive), and the campus bar wouldn't start serving until noon (even a University has standards), coffee was my only bet.
I just didn't want to stand in line.
I was seriously considering dropping out. That would make things easier, right? I could take off, easy as pie, start a new life in... oh. No. Wait. I had legal paperwork now. I couldn't just 'vanish'. And besides, people would rubberneck wherever I went any way...
Unless I went to the Arctic.
I was seriously considering the reliability of a diesel generator in sub-zero weather when everyone else around me started to get to their feet. I swung my head around, scanning with my eyes. Nope, no Buzz. No fire.
Where the hell was everyone going?
Ah - I had been so busy willing a hole in the ground to open that I hadn't been paying attention to the lecture. It was over and all I had on my notebook page was lots and lots of doodles of flowers. God, three hundred years and all I could draw was stupid smiley-face daisies.
Weren't Immortals supposed to get sophisticated and talented and crap?
I sighed and sank lower in my chair. Professor Martin was LOOKING at me, and LOOKED right back. He lowered his eyes to his desk and collected up his papers and overheads. I waited until the lecture hall was empty, then stood, jammed my notebook into my backpack, slung my coat over my arm, and grabbed my sword by the sheath.
He wore an expression of careful neutrality as I descended the cement steps towards him.
"Professor Martin," I said softly when I got to the bottom.
"Ms. Deidre," he replied in equally low tones. "I must say... this is a ... surprise."
Suddenly, my shoelaces were very very fascinating. I shrugged.
"The other class will be coming in." He grabbed his own coat and gestured for me to follow him out the back entrance to the hall. The lecture halls were connected in the back by a service tunnel that a lot of the Profs liked to use to slip into the classroom without being harassed my stressed-out students in the halls. I followed behind him.
He was a soft spoken but intelligent man in his mid forties, mostly bald on top, with wire-rimmed glasses that perched on his beaky nose. He liked sweater-vests, I had noticed by mid-way through my first year here, and beige dress pants with perfect little pleats in the front. I wondered if his wife ironed them. I wondered if he had a wife.
I had been married in... oh... 1716, I think it was. My husband, a Presbyterian I had been given to by my adoptive father because it was a politically advantageous match, had died three years later in the crossing to Boston from Derry Cove of one disease or another, and I kicked it soon thereafter. I'd had no children, of corse, so they just dumped our corpses into the Atlantic.
Fucking cold swim, I can tell you that much.
Professor Martin's calm stride reminded me briefly of Donnell. If he had lived, would he have gotten all saggy around the middle too?
We reached the Professor's office, and I was suddenly afraid to go in. I'd been in this office a hundred times before. There was nothing in the office to be afraid of. Except... except his questions.
He held the door open for me and waited, patience in his eyes.
Finally I let out a blowing sigh and walked in, shut the door behind me, and lay down my bag and coat on one of the chairs. I sat in the other, clutching my sword in my lap. He put his lecture notes into his filing cabinet, then perched on the edge of the desk. His gaze swept me once, then rested on my sword.
"It's beautiful," he breathed. "Nuit Noire Rapier, isn't it?"
I nodded. "Mm-hmm. Mid 1700s. Got it from a highwayman."
He sucked in an excited breath, his fingers twitching in his lap. "He gave it to you?"
I nodded again. "You might say that. When I woke up he had left in a very convenient place, where I was sure to find it." I smiled briefly at the puzzlement that flashed across his face. "My heart."
His mouth opened in a little 'o' of surprise.
"You can look at it, if you want." I held it up for him, willing the awkward silence to go away. We had never had awkward silences before - true, that was mostly because when I found him here I spent the visit snipping at him about the inaccuracies of the course text book, but he had never really taken my words seriously. I think he would start. It's not that I was all about the 'correct history' – it's just that the book sucked.
Professor Martin took the sword eagerly and, as if handling a precious artifact, drew it carefully from it's sheath. The blade shone in the morning sunlight that slanted in through his window. I'd had the absurd compulsion to polish my weapon last night, hoping no one would have to see it's shine. I was glad I had. There would have been nothing more embarrassing that handing over a chipped and ill-cared for blade to my Prof.
"And was that, er, ah," he stumbled on his words and his face grew marginally redder. "... your... first death?"
I shook my head and raised a hand to the back of my neck, trying to massage away the tension that was sitting at the base of my skull. I was starting to get a headache. "Mm. I died in 1718 - fever or something. I dunno. I was sick, and then I was swimming."
That little furrow re-appeared between his shaggy eyebrows. "Swimming?"
I allowed a little mischievous smile to emerge. "Sea burial."
"Ah." He returned his attention to the sword in his grasp. "This is quality craftsmanship - but I see you've shortened the blade."
I raised my eyebrows, mildly impressed. "You know your swords."
"Oh, I was fascinated by them when I was your age..." he looked up at me with wide eyes and I waved the impending apology away. "When I was in University, I mean. Been brushing up since...well..."
"The announcement?"
He nodded. "Mmm. Wanted to be able to recognize one when... if... I saw one." He handed the rapier back to me.
"Well, you got your first one right."
He yanked his eyes away from the sword in my lap and up to my face. "It's remarkable, really... I would never have guessed, if you hadn't... I wonder... may I see...?"
I frowned slightly. "See what?"
"Would you mind..." he wriggled a bit, obviously uncomfortable with the request he was trying to spit out. "I'd like to see the proof..."
The frown blossomed into a full-fledged grimace. "You want me to cut myself?"
He turned his face away, mortified. "Well, no! Well, yes, but... not if you're not comfortable... I'd just like to see."
I continued to glower for a long moment, then sighed. It was only his academic curiosity, I told myself. It wasn't morbid fascination. He wasn't one of the sick suicidal groupies I'd been hearing about on the news. "One-time show only."
He turned his head back when he heard the soft his of me sliding the blade part of the way out of it's sheath. Taking a deep breath I ran the pad of my thumb across the edge and hissed myself when the skin split and the blood welled up. I held up my hand for his to see, and closed my eyes against the small arc of lightening that flashed from one end of the shallow wound to the other, cauterizing the skin and burning away the resulting scar within seconds.
"Amazing," he breathed, and I said nothing.
I sighed again and sank lower into my chair. I sheathed the blade. There was another awkward pause. "So..." I ventured. "You wanted to see me?"
"Hmm?" He looked at me with incomprehension for a second before his face lit up. "Oh! OH! Yes, yes!" He reached over to the other side of his desk and grabbed hold of his computer monitor. Swivelling it around so I could read the screen, he pointed to the head shot of a young man. "I got this resume in the mail last week - an Immortal looking to teach Latin and Greek. The Classics department has an opening, and I was wondering, Ms. Deirdre if... if..."
"If I recognized him?"
He bit the inside of his cheek hopefully. I sat forward and looked closely. Then I sat back with a small dimple of consternation pulling at the corner of my lips. "Yeah, yeah, I know him."
"Oh! That's good. Is he... I mean, what he says he is? Is he ... reliable?"
I shrugged. "I dunno, I never met the guy. But he seems fairly stand-up."
The furrow re-appeared. "Never met him?"
I nodded. "Yeah. Weren't you watching the news these past few months?"
"I've been busy writing the midterm."
I shook my head. "You history people always have your noses in books." I reached up and tapped the screen. "This guy is Immortal. He's also famous, sorta. He was the guy who opposed the Visible Weaponry Law."
Professor Martin's eyes got wide and he stared at the screen.
I leaned back into my chair. "This here's Adam Pierson."
~~~
Author's note: Well, there's chapter three. Still, I have no plot plans just yet, so any suggestions would be welcome. I'm just playing this one by year.
Responses:
Laurakkc: Thanks! I try to be original where I can. I've been batting around this idea since the Kalas episode, and wanted to see what would happen to the average Immie (not our Superheros) if Kalas had been successful in his exposure of the Watchers. One of two things could have happened - mass-scale genocide or shoulder-shrugging acceptance. Since other people have already explored the genocide, I decided to try the acceptance. It took me a long time to make up the time line, though. ^_^
canyr12: Of course people would rubberneck. Wouldn't you? (I like the term so much I pinched it for this chapter. Thanks!)
Morgana Pendragon: *wink* Nice to see someone brushed up on their English Mythology. Yes, I agree that I'm intrigued by Ms. Deirdre (no first name yet, I'm working on that,) but I do want to involve the cannon characters as well. All original-characters are inevitably Mary Sues, and I am aware of that... I'm just determined to make Deirdre a GOOD Mary Sue character.
Lileath: Is this soon enough? *wink* Easter is here, and I only have.... Hmmm... about a text book and a half's worth of readings to catch up on for exams...erm... and about six Shakespeare plays...erm... and some Euripides... so MAYBE I'll get to update again soon. *sighs happily* Just two more days of school left... Honours year, here I come!
Gen: Apparently a lot of fans have wondered what would happen if the Immortals were ousted. I mean, it's that the main function of the Watchers? To have all this data to give up to the world once the Game is over? That way people will know what these Immortals did to and for their civilizations. The only difference is that here the technology grew too fast and too well - they had to step forward in order to protect the Immortals. Otherwise, there may have been the mass genocide I was speaking of earlier. I'm glad you think it's fantastic.
Thanks for all the feedback - I'm going to try to make a point of answering all critiques in each chapter. If you take the time to write to me, I will most definitely take the time to answer. Besides, I get to give away little secrets in these things, and that's fun.
October 18th, 2006 - mid-morning
I really really wish I had gotten that coffee.
It's not that I'm dependant on it. It's just that if anything was going to soothe my nerves right now it was either caffeine, tobacco, or booze. Seeing as I gave up smoking three decades ago (not because of health issues, obviously - they were just getting bloody expensive), and the campus bar wouldn't start serving until noon (even a University has standards), coffee was my only bet.
I just didn't want to stand in line.
I was seriously considering dropping out. That would make things easier, right? I could take off, easy as pie, start a new life in... oh. No. Wait. I had legal paperwork now. I couldn't just 'vanish'. And besides, people would rubberneck wherever I went any way...
Unless I went to the Arctic.
I was seriously considering the reliability of a diesel generator in sub-zero weather when everyone else around me started to get to their feet. I swung my head around, scanning with my eyes. Nope, no Buzz. No fire.
Where the hell was everyone going?
Ah - I had been so busy willing a hole in the ground to open that I hadn't been paying attention to the lecture. It was over and all I had on my notebook page was lots and lots of doodles of flowers. God, three hundred years and all I could draw was stupid smiley-face daisies.
Weren't Immortals supposed to get sophisticated and talented and crap?
I sighed and sank lower in my chair. Professor Martin was LOOKING at me, and LOOKED right back. He lowered his eyes to his desk and collected up his papers and overheads. I waited until the lecture hall was empty, then stood, jammed my notebook into my backpack, slung my coat over my arm, and grabbed my sword by the sheath.
He wore an expression of careful neutrality as I descended the cement steps towards him.
"Professor Martin," I said softly when I got to the bottom.
"Ms. Deidre," he replied in equally low tones. "I must say... this is a ... surprise."
Suddenly, my shoelaces were very very fascinating. I shrugged.
"The other class will be coming in." He grabbed his own coat and gestured for me to follow him out the back entrance to the hall. The lecture halls were connected in the back by a service tunnel that a lot of the Profs liked to use to slip into the classroom without being harassed my stressed-out students in the halls. I followed behind him.
He was a soft spoken but intelligent man in his mid forties, mostly bald on top, with wire-rimmed glasses that perched on his beaky nose. He liked sweater-vests, I had noticed by mid-way through my first year here, and beige dress pants with perfect little pleats in the front. I wondered if his wife ironed them. I wondered if he had a wife.
I had been married in... oh... 1716, I think it was. My husband, a Presbyterian I had been given to by my adoptive father because it was a politically advantageous match, had died three years later in the crossing to Boston from Derry Cove of one disease or another, and I kicked it soon thereafter. I'd had no children, of corse, so they just dumped our corpses into the Atlantic.
Fucking cold swim, I can tell you that much.
Professor Martin's calm stride reminded me briefly of Donnell. If he had lived, would he have gotten all saggy around the middle too?
We reached the Professor's office, and I was suddenly afraid to go in. I'd been in this office a hundred times before. There was nothing in the office to be afraid of. Except... except his questions.
He held the door open for me and waited, patience in his eyes.
Finally I let out a blowing sigh and walked in, shut the door behind me, and lay down my bag and coat on one of the chairs. I sat in the other, clutching my sword in my lap. He put his lecture notes into his filing cabinet, then perched on the edge of the desk. His gaze swept me once, then rested on my sword.
"It's beautiful," he breathed. "Nuit Noire Rapier, isn't it?"
I nodded. "Mm-hmm. Mid 1700s. Got it from a highwayman."
He sucked in an excited breath, his fingers twitching in his lap. "He gave it to you?"
I nodded again. "You might say that. When I woke up he had left in a very convenient place, where I was sure to find it." I smiled briefly at the puzzlement that flashed across his face. "My heart."
His mouth opened in a little 'o' of surprise.
"You can look at it, if you want." I held it up for him, willing the awkward silence to go away. We had never had awkward silences before - true, that was mostly because when I found him here I spent the visit snipping at him about the inaccuracies of the course text book, but he had never really taken my words seriously. I think he would start. It's not that I was all about the 'correct history' – it's just that the book sucked.
Professor Martin took the sword eagerly and, as if handling a precious artifact, drew it carefully from it's sheath. The blade shone in the morning sunlight that slanted in through his window. I'd had the absurd compulsion to polish my weapon last night, hoping no one would have to see it's shine. I was glad I had. There would have been nothing more embarrassing that handing over a chipped and ill-cared for blade to my Prof.
"And was that, er, ah," he stumbled on his words and his face grew marginally redder. "... your... first death?"
I shook my head and raised a hand to the back of my neck, trying to massage away the tension that was sitting at the base of my skull. I was starting to get a headache. "Mm. I died in 1718 - fever or something. I dunno. I was sick, and then I was swimming."
That little furrow re-appeared between his shaggy eyebrows. "Swimming?"
I allowed a little mischievous smile to emerge. "Sea burial."
"Ah." He returned his attention to the sword in his grasp. "This is quality craftsmanship - but I see you've shortened the blade."
I raised my eyebrows, mildly impressed. "You know your swords."
"Oh, I was fascinated by them when I was your age..." he looked up at me with wide eyes and I waved the impending apology away. "When I was in University, I mean. Been brushing up since...well..."
"The announcement?"
He nodded. "Mmm. Wanted to be able to recognize one when... if... I saw one." He handed the rapier back to me.
"Well, you got your first one right."
He yanked his eyes away from the sword in my lap and up to my face. "It's remarkable, really... I would never have guessed, if you hadn't... I wonder... may I see...?"
I frowned slightly. "See what?"
"Would you mind..." he wriggled a bit, obviously uncomfortable with the request he was trying to spit out. "I'd like to see the proof..."
The frown blossomed into a full-fledged grimace. "You want me to cut myself?"
He turned his face away, mortified. "Well, no! Well, yes, but... not if you're not comfortable... I'd just like to see."
I continued to glower for a long moment, then sighed. It was only his academic curiosity, I told myself. It wasn't morbid fascination. He wasn't one of the sick suicidal groupies I'd been hearing about on the news. "One-time show only."
He turned his head back when he heard the soft his of me sliding the blade part of the way out of it's sheath. Taking a deep breath I ran the pad of my thumb across the edge and hissed myself when the skin split and the blood welled up. I held up my hand for his to see, and closed my eyes against the small arc of lightening that flashed from one end of the shallow wound to the other, cauterizing the skin and burning away the resulting scar within seconds.
"Amazing," he breathed, and I said nothing.
I sighed again and sank lower into my chair. I sheathed the blade. There was another awkward pause. "So..." I ventured. "You wanted to see me?"
"Hmm?" He looked at me with incomprehension for a second before his face lit up. "Oh! OH! Yes, yes!" He reached over to the other side of his desk and grabbed hold of his computer monitor. Swivelling it around so I could read the screen, he pointed to the head shot of a young man. "I got this resume in the mail last week - an Immortal looking to teach Latin and Greek. The Classics department has an opening, and I was wondering, Ms. Deirdre if... if..."
"If I recognized him?"
He bit the inside of his cheek hopefully. I sat forward and looked closely. Then I sat back with a small dimple of consternation pulling at the corner of my lips. "Yeah, yeah, I know him."
"Oh! That's good. Is he... I mean, what he says he is? Is he ... reliable?"
I shrugged. "I dunno, I never met the guy. But he seems fairly stand-up."
The furrow re-appeared. "Never met him?"
I nodded. "Yeah. Weren't you watching the news these past few months?"
"I've been busy writing the midterm."
I shook my head. "You history people always have your noses in books." I reached up and tapped the screen. "This guy is Immortal. He's also famous, sorta. He was the guy who opposed the Visible Weaponry Law."
Professor Martin's eyes got wide and he stared at the screen.
I leaned back into my chair. "This here's Adam Pierson."
~~~
Author's note: Well, there's chapter three. Still, I have no plot plans just yet, so any suggestions would be welcome. I'm just playing this one by year.
Responses:
Laurakkc: Thanks! I try to be original where I can. I've been batting around this idea since the Kalas episode, and wanted to see what would happen to the average Immie (not our Superheros) if Kalas had been successful in his exposure of the Watchers. One of two things could have happened - mass-scale genocide or shoulder-shrugging acceptance. Since other people have already explored the genocide, I decided to try the acceptance. It took me a long time to make up the time line, though. ^_^
canyr12: Of course people would rubberneck. Wouldn't you? (I like the term so much I pinched it for this chapter. Thanks!)
Morgana Pendragon: *wink* Nice to see someone brushed up on their English Mythology. Yes, I agree that I'm intrigued by Ms. Deirdre (no first name yet, I'm working on that,) but I do want to involve the cannon characters as well. All original-characters are inevitably Mary Sues, and I am aware of that... I'm just determined to make Deirdre a GOOD Mary Sue character.
Lileath: Is this soon enough? *wink* Easter is here, and I only have.... Hmmm... about a text book and a half's worth of readings to catch up on for exams...erm... and about six Shakespeare plays...erm... and some Euripides... so MAYBE I'll get to update again soon. *sighs happily* Just two more days of school left... Honours year, here I come!
Gen: Apparently a lot of fans have wondered what would happen if the Immortals were ousted. I mean, it's that the main function of the Watchers? To have all this data to give up to the world once the Game is over? That way people will know what these Immortals did to and for their civilizations. The only difference is that here the technology grew too fast and too well - they had to step forward in order to protect the Immortals. Otherwise, there may have been the mass genocide I was speaking of earlier. I'm glad you think it's fantastic.
Thanks for all the feedback - I'm going to try to make a point of answering all critiques in each chapter. If you take the time to write to me, I will most definitely take the time to answer. Besides, I get to give away little secrets in these things, and that's fun.