"Dancing With The Past"
A Knight Rider Story
By TunnelsOfTheSouth
※※※※※
Knight Rider and all its canon characters are the eternal property of Glen A. Larson and NBC Television Studios.
I have enjoyed myself hugely with this work.
I make no monies from this one or any of my TV series fanfics, only the joy and delight of creation.
"Let us read, and let us dance; these two amusements will never do any harm to the world…"
Voltaire
Bonnie Barstow walked out of the ivy-covered laboratory that had been built behind the massive house belonging to Knight Industries. She pushed the door shut with one elbow as she wiped her greasy hands clean on a piece of cloth. Staring up at the windows of the house, she frowned as she tossed the soiled cloth into a nearby garbage bin.
"So, Devon's not the only one working overtime tonight," she commented, seeing the lights shining through the curtains of her boss's office. "His choice, I guess."
It was well past midnight and she was dog-tired. Working to keep Kitt in top condition had become a full-time job now that Michael Knight was on the scene and seemingly hell-bent on doing insanely crazy things with the most expensive car in the world for his own amusement.
"I'll talk to Devon about him in the morning," she decided, stifling a yawn as she turned away to walk to her car and drive home.
But right then, the faint, haunting strains of classical music drifting from the house stopped her in her tracks. Bonnie turned to look back, tilting her head to one side in curiosity.
A waltz?
Like a lot of girls she knew, she'd learned to dance as a child. She could hold her own on the dance floor. But her father had soon despaired for his only daughter, who preferred machines and all things mechanical, over finding a good man and settling down to married life and giving him grandchildren.
Knowing she wouldn't have it any other way, Bonnie smiled. "Sorry, Dad."
As she listened, the elegant tune twined its way around her tired senses and she began to hum the refrain without realising it. It seemed oddly familiar but she couldn't identify it. The music added a lightness to her step and she shuffled her feet to a couple of beats before stopping.
"You're tired. Go home," she told herself severely, continuing on her way. "Devon doesn't need any company when he's in the classical mood."
But the music seemed to attach itself to the weary threads of her consciousness, drawing her back toward the house and its source. Again she tried to identify the tune and failed.
She grimaced. "No doubt, he's put another of his classical records on the turntable. The ones none of us are allowed to touch without written permission in triplicate."
The fact that her boss didn't trust her with his precious things niggled at her sense of fair play as she climbed up the wide stone steps leading to the terrace. She stopped to wipe her boots carefully on the thick mat outside the tall French windows before slipping through them into the shadows of the large sitting room. The intoxicating music gained both in volume and direction, still weaving around her tired senses and tugging her forward.
"I'll ask him the name of the piece and then I'll be happy." She knew where to find Devon's office. She'd walked the enormously expensive Persian carpet often enough to remember the way up the wide staircase and turn right.
She took the stairs two at a time, impatient to satisfy her curiosity over the tune. Discover that and she could go home to a welcome shower and bed. A solid eight hours of oblivion before she was faced with the results of more exploits Kitt hadn't been designed for.
Walking quickly down the wide hallway, she came to Devon's office. The door was open, so she knocked and looked in, an easy excuse ready on her lips. But the room was empty. She stared at the huge oak desk, where her boss usually sat, hard at work running his vast empire.
The music continued to play, but this office was not the source. It seemed to be coming from somewhere further into the house.
"Aw, come on! I don't have time for this!" Truly irritated now, Bonnie stepped back and turned to follow the strains of the intoxicating tune.
Its silken threads drew her deeper into the depths of the vast house. Down another long hallway and around corners until she reached another corridor where lights shone from under the closed double doors of a room halfway down the hall.
Bonnie stopped and frowned. She'd never been into this wing of the house before. It had the musty, closed-up air of long disuse.
"Hello?" she asked, looking all around at the many other closed doors lining the hallway.
There was no answer beyond the echo of her voice. Shaking her head, and becoming more and more annoyed with every step, she followed the intoxicating tune to the closed doors. But the very moment she put her hand on one of the door knobs the music stopped. The ensuing silence sounded loud in her ears.
"Good evening, Bonnie. I see you're intrigued by my secret experiment," Devon commented from behind her. "You came a long way to satisfy that curiosity."
"Excuse me?" Bonnie spun around, her cheeks flushing at being caught snooping. "Sorry, Devon. I don't know what came over me. I was going home and then..."
She wanted to blame the music. But now that it had stopped, she felt foolish. She shook her head as if she'd just woken from a strange dream. "You weren't in your office."
"I had thought I was all alone here, tonight," Devon continued with a wry smile. "Michael said he was going fishing for the weekend and you were supposed to be home long before now." He glanced significantly at his wristwatch.
"Kitt's repairs took longer than I expected." Bonnie crossed her arms defensively. "And I was going home."
Devon's eyebrows rose. "Until?"
"Your music…" Bonnie waved a hand at the closed doors, at a loss to explain her strange compulsion. "I thought I recognised the tune. I couldn't get it out of my head. I knew I wouldn't sleep until I knew what it was. It… kind of pulled me all the way here."
She sighed. It sounded so lame. She was an engineer. She dealt in the practical, not all the twists and turns of the mind. That was Devon's game.
"Couldn't get it out of your head, eh? I'll admit, it is a catchy little tune." Devon smiled with quiet satisfaction.
"Please tell me the name of it and I'll be on my way." Bonnie frowned at him.
Devon stroked the bridge of his nose with one thoughtful forefinger. "Oh, it's 'The After Dinner Waltz' composed by Alfred Newman. It is an elegant classic."
"Ah yes, of course. I remember it now." Bonnie nodded then her brow creased. "But why are you playing it in an empty room? This isn't your office or even your wing of the house. It looks like no one's been here in ages."
Devon's smile widened. "Who says it's empty?"
"What do you mean?" Bonnie looked all around. "There's no one here, but us." She huffed a laugh. "And I'm about to leave you to your fun."
"Before you go…" Devon waved one hand. "Open the door and see for yourself."
"All right. Then I'm going home." Curiosity now biting hard, Bonnie shrugged as she did as he asked, putting her hand on the right-hand doorknob and slowly opening it to look into the room.
She gasped as she looked around. It appeared to be an enormous ballroom.
"Exactly," Devon commented behind her. "Rather impressive, don't you think? I've spent a great deal of time and energy on this. I'm rather proud of it. I think it will work very well once I've ironed all the kinks out of it. You've helped me tonight by being an unwitting participant."
"Impressive isn't the word I was going for," Bonnie replied honestly as she moved further into the spacious room, looking all around. "This place is empty. There's nothing here but dust and cobwebs."
She turned back to look at her boss. "What did you say you're working on in here?"
"Empty, is it?" Devon followed her into the room looking very well pleased with himself. "Is it? Be patient and watch…"
His look of satisfaction grew as he walked to the left of the doors and reached behind a heavy wall tapestry. He flicked a switch and the room immediately came to life.
Strings of coloured lanterns appeared overhead, all lit from within by flickering candles. There was now a table groaning with plates of food and a huge cut crystal punch bowl filled with an amber liquid. Larger candles flickered in tall glass vases.
On the far side of the room a wrought iron rotunda materialised, complete with a string quartet. Then the music started again, filling the room with the same sweet waltz.
"I like to come here at night and watch them dance. I found their story in an old book in the library," he mused. "Over the years, I've allowed myself a little self-indulgence with the program. They remind me of another, more elegant age when I was young and all things seemed possible."
He shook his head slowly. "And you've already heard their music. Magical, isn't it?"
"Watch who dance? What program?" Bonnie queried in frustration, not believing the evidence of her own eyes. "What's going on, Devon? Please stop playing games."
"See for yourself, my dear…" Devon waved a hand at the room. "There they are…"
In the middle of the carpet, a couple dressed in nineteenth-century costumes suddenly appeared. They were dancing to the waltz as they gazed into each other's eyes with rapt attention. The dark-haired, bearded man was dressed in full naval uniform complete with a dress sword while the woman wore a beautiful rose pink ballgown that whispered around her small, slender frame as she moved.
The gentleman guided his lady with ease and precision that made them appear timeless. His blue eyes remained fixed on her fresh beauty. Not once did he look down. The woman smiled, laughing at something he said to her, and the blush in her cheeks deepened as they continued to whirl around the room.
"Who are they?" Bonnie whispered, feeling that if she spoke too loudly the magical couple would disappear as quickly as they appeared. "I mean, what are they? Where did they come from?"
"They're holograms," Devon supplied with evident pride. "It's been a pet project of mine for some years now. Since long before you joined our merry little team."
He shrugged. "Wilton scoffed at my plans, but he allowed me to indulge myself as long as it didn't impact my essential work for the Foundation. He gave me this wing of the house to keep everything away from prying eyes until it was ready."
He watched the couple swirl past him, seemingly oblivious to being observed. "I've set up this room to use projected light and electromagnetic energy to create the illusion of solid objects in a realistic three-dimensional simulation of a real or imaginary setting."
He stroked his chin. "Anyone may interact with the room's environment as well as any objects and characters. Sometimes I use a predefined narrative as you can see now. It's designed to permit the introduction of a variety of locations, such as events and persons from the past. Like these two lovers. I liked their story. A little indulgence I built into the system."
"So you're saying they're not real?" Bonnie ignored the more technical aspects of the explanation as she watched the couple circling the floor as the music flowed. "They certainly look real enough."
She struggled with reality as her deeply practical mind fought against the evidence of her eyes. "They do look very much in love."
"They're an illusion. As insubstantial as smoke," Devon replied in an almost regretful tone. "Sometimes even I forget when I watch them. But you would think they're real enough if you were not told in advance. The unexpected always engenders a hesitation to believe the evidence of your own eyes. That's the whole point of my work here. To stake a claim to that slim advantage and make it work for us."
Bonnie shrugged, not seeing his point at all. "An attractive couple dancing the waltz doesn't seem very threatening."
"As I said, they're a sweet little indulgence of mine. But if I alter the scenario…" Devon reached behind the tapestry again to flip another switch and the scene in the room changed immediately.
The young couple vanished as if they'd never been, taking everything with them. In their place, a jungle scene appeared, dripping with unseen menace. Something large began to rustle in the undergrowth and growl menacingly.
Bonnie felt the fine hairs on the back of her neck stand up. "Okay…" Against her will, she eased backwards one step. "What did you just do?"
"Nothing…" Devon replied with an air of smug unconcern. "How do you feel now?"
"Feel?" Bonnie eased back another wary step as the menacing growling increased in volume. "Like I don't want to be here and this silly charade has gone on long enough. Tell me exactly what's going on here and stop playing games. I'm tired and I want to go home."
"Charade?" Devon sounded irritated. "It is no charade, my dear. This is deadly serious. Think of the potential if I can make all of this into a portable sensory deprivation unit. It would discombobulate the enemy, supplying us with that window of opportunity to disable them while they're still struggling with their altered reality."
"You want to take all of this on the road?" Bonnie waved a disbelieving hand at the huge room. "Impossible. You'd need a rig ten times the size of what we use now. And how would you get the bad guys to go inside it?"
"Think, Bonnie!" Devon responded, now obviously irritated. "Use that fine, analytical brain of yours and see the opportunities this program presents. This room was only my prototype. Why do you think I'm always burning the midnight oil? I've almost perfected the program to the point where the componentry can be added to Kitt's already existing arsenal of weaponry. With your help, we can make it viable."
The jungle scene seethed with menace. Bonnie could swear she could almost smell the rotting vegetation as whatever it was in the undergrowth crept closer. She was sure she could now see a pair of glowing amber eyes watching her as a gleaming set of razor-sharp claws slowly pushed the rank foliage aside.
"Okay, turn it off," she begged, passing a weary hand over her eyes. "I get your point. Please, just turn it off."
"As you wish…" Devon reached behind the tapestry again and the room returned to its normal state of vast, musty emptiness.
Bonnie breathed a cautious sigh of relief. "Thank you." A shiver passed through her and she hugged her arms across her abdomen.
"You look like you could use a drink. I know I certainly could." Devon came forward to touch one hand to her shoulder. "A little celebration of a successful partnership. Indulge me for a little longer, please? I want to lay it all out for you. Get your input."
"Fine with me," Bonnie admitted honestly. "You know I'm not going to be able to sleep now anyway. I'm too wide awake."
She cast one final, wary look at the room. "You surely know how to put on quite a show, Mr Miles. You had me believing you."
"Oh, you haven't seen anything yet…" Devon smiled indulgently, as he indicated she was to leave the room ahead of him.
As the young woman walked away down the wide, echoing hallway, Devon stopped and looked back into the empty room, reaching to turn out the lights. "Good night, Captain Gregg. Good night, Mrs Muir…" He smiled as he closed the door and began to walk away.
Suddenly he stopped to listen. He frowned, thinking he could once again hear the haunting strains of the waltz and a trace of soft feminine laughter.
"Now you're imagining things that just aren't there…" He shook his head as he turned and walked away.
"You've gotta dance like there's nobody watching,
Love like you'll never be hurt,
Sing like there's nobody listening,
And live like it's heaven on earth…"
William W. Purkey