Title: Alpha, Bravo, Charlie
Author: A Crazy Elephant
Summary: The Dollhouse recruits its first three Actives.
Category: General
Spoilers: 'The Target' and 'Echoes' regarding the recruitment process.
Disclaimer: Alas, it is not mine. *sniffle*
Author's Note: And here we have the final installment. I'm sorry it took so long- I had finals, then four weeks out of state and packing for Study Abroad. This is the last of this story for now. Maybe I'll finish with the rest of the Active Alphabet some other time, but for now, c'est fini. This was written before the last three episodes of season one, so please be tolerant of the AU-ness. Have fun and thanks for all the feedback!
Composite
Topher's instruments were out of control. Those stupid kids at UCLA were running their cyclotron again. Usually this wasn't a problem, but today, whatever they were trying to do was seriously fucking with his shit. So not cool. He was going to have to do some serious revamping of the system to tune out those high frequency waves that were jacking with The Chair and his wireless routers.
--
"It hurts."
The Like Hims were in a state of panic. Nearly all of them were in pain of varying severity- Whisky, Bravo, Foxtrot, Delta, Charlie . . . all of them. Trusted were dashing here and there between the Like Hims, trying to sooth and calm. It wasn't working.
"Why does it hurt?"
Alpha clutched at his ears, eyes shut tight while flashes of memories he didn't recognize and didn't understand ran through his head. It was though someone had broken a dam in his head and things he wasn't supposed to remember had come flooding out. He was vaguely aware of the Like Hims in the botany class experiencing similar events. Whisky was only mildly distraught, while the older Like Hims, like Charlie, were falling apart.
"I don't understand."
Bravo was crying- alternating between begging the Trusted in charge to make it go away and shouting bits of conversations from what his own muddled brain concluded were snips of memories. Charlie had dissolved into a wicked sort of laugh while his eyes darted back and forth as though watching a tennis match that only he could see. The others whimpered and wept crying out for Trusted and the Doctor.
"They aren't mine."
The memory flashes began to slow. He was happy, sad, angry- all of it for longer periods now. Then he was just angry.
"I don't want them!"
--
"What's going on Topher?" DeWitt was pissed. Not just her usual, stiff upper lip disappointed pissed, but fire and brimstone fucking pissed. "Would you like to tell me why our actives are breaking down? And I'd prefer it in plain English if you don't mind. I haven't time for your technobabble stall tactics."
"Well . . ." Topher was scrambling about the chair room, moving from consul to consul. "It's the UC's cyclotron."
"The cancer machine? The university's cancer research is turning our active's brains into mush?" This was obviously not the answer she was looking for.
"A cyclotron uses the same high frequencies and magnetic fields I use to block the neural pathways and open new ones-" He paused to slam a fist down on a monitor. "Think about the brain like BART."
"San Francisco's subway system?"
"Yeah- each of the stops is like a memory or skill. When they're wiped, it's like blocking off all the stops in the East Bay and the trains are only running in the city. When they're imprinted, it's like opening a line to Oakland." Topher continued quickly as he tapped rapidly at a keyboard. "The high frequencies and the fields are like suddenly opening every line in the system at once and the grumpy civil servants aren't used to the traffic."
"You're saying that they're remembering everything?" There was some concern in the pissed now.
"Down to every mother's maiden name I've ever imprinted them with. 'Course I been tweaking the process for ages- the newer actives are only getting a headache from the waves." He assured her, though he wasn't sure he would have believed himself.
"And the older ones?"
"Everything. The dominant imprints'll probably start to take over-" He stopped as a shriek from the House below pierced the static buzz from The Chair and Imprint Processors.
"Alpha!"