Authors Notes:

This is the second of the reworked chapters.

ARC III

Chapter Three: Self Discipline

Brent sat down with a sigh at Adant's computer just as the respawn counter reached zero. Lectures had finished for the day, and his first tutoring session was due to start with Louise in an hour and a half. Just enough time to have a few games of that new helicopter combat game.

His 'leet skills' were proving to be a bit of an annoyance when it came to game-playing. The games became way too easy, and the constant cries of 'Hax' were quite irritating, but Brent found that by giving himself handicaps, he could get around it. In this particular game, he restricted himself soley to transport helicopters - dropping off infantry with MANPADS, RPG's and mortars, as well as taking over empty bases whenever his teammates cleared one out. He did have the option of carrying gun and missile pods, but he found that made clearing the bases out too easy.

It was somewhat frustrating when he had to wait for his inept teammates to clear a base and they kept getting themselves killed... but less frustrating than constantly being called a hacker by sore losers. Trying to fight off enemy players with his under-powered guns made it more fun too.

Twenty minutes into it, and he was just about to land in one of the final bases, letting off the last lot of troops, when his controls locked up. Rather than dropping the last few meters onto the landing pad, his helicopter slowly drifted sideways, heading slowly towards the powerlines on the other side of the clearing. Brent tapped his controls a few more times, then sighed and sat back, watching in irritation as his helicopter slowly and inevitably drifted into the side of a building - the helicopter exploding into a fireball before falling back to the ground a blackened hulk.

He sighed again, and moved to his room. Though the door was open and he could see the monitor was already on. Strange, he thought it was off...

As he entered the room, a notepad appeared on his desktop, and text started to scroll across it.

'YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO BE STUDYING!'

Brent frowned. What? How did she even?

He sat at the chair and typed - more curious than anything else.

'How are you even doing that? Remote access?'

'Familiar Posession. Now STUDY!'

He frowned, irritation replacing his curiosity. His fingers danced across the keyboard.

'We don't start for another 80 minutes.'

Louise's reply came back quickly.

'Yes, those are 80 minutes you can use to prepare. You're behind on this assignment. You KNOW you're behind on this assignment. Why aren't you using your free time on this?'

Brent scowled.

'Look, I've had a long day. I just want to relax for an hour, alright?'

The answer came back quick as ever.

'No. No, it's not alright.'

Brent tried typing something, but the girl on the other side locked out his keyboard.

'How much time have you actually spent on the assigment this week outside the tutoring sessions?'

Louise barely paused before continuing.

'Half an hour on Tuesday. That's what. I've been watching you. Watching as you struggle with this. Watching as you give up and play those games instead. Watching day after day as you do nothing towards your assignment, and you fall further and further behind. You always 'just want to relax for an hour', but your 'hour' always turns into a whole day.'

Brent tapped the keyboard. Still nothing.

'You're failing this. Not because you can't do it, but because you're too lazy to do it.'

Brent scowled.

'You agreed to my help. And it's my duty as you're mistress to help you anyway. So until the assignment's done, that's it. No more being lazy. No more gaming, no more of those videos, no more talking to friends - you WILL work on this assigment till it's done.'

'Fuck Off'

The angry words spat from Brent's lips. She had a point with some of it, but who did she think she was?

'WHAT?'

The unexpected reply made Brent jump. She actually heard him?

'WHAT DID YOU SAY TO ME?'

He winced at the volume, and gave the audio knob a savage twist, before responding.

'I said you can fuck off. Yes, I'm having trouble, but who are you? You barely know me. What gives you the right to force me to do anything? Right now I can't study. I've had a full day at uni. A rather crap day, I might add. I need to relax before I get back into it. Right now, I can't work on my assignment. And I don't need some deluded teenager forcing her 'help' on me.'

'Deluded teenager? You're an idiot. I've been saddled with an idiot as a familiar. I put in the time and effort to to help my familiar - something you're incapable of doing yourself, and you say that? Deluded? Who is it that thinks they're doing well, as they continue to fail? Who is it that thinks the way to pass their assignment is to wait until they feel like doing it? Here's some news for you - you'll never feel like doing it. If I have to force you to do it - which I do, I will. And 'what gives me the right?' I'm your mistress. You're life is mine. You are mine. And I'll not have a failure as a familiar. Even if I have to drag you kicking and screaming the whole way.'

'Now let's get one thing clear', Brent responded.

'I belong to me. To ME. Not to you. Not to anyone else. To me. You keep calling yourself my mistress. Guess what? You're not. I appreciate your help. I appreciate your concern. But you can fuck right off with that 'I own you' bullshit.'

'I... YOU... PIG!... UNGRATEFUL...

Brent waited several seconds, but the furious flurry of fragments failed to finish. Finally, he stood, sliding his chair backwards.

'I don't want to talk to you', he snapped, cutting off her incoherent curses.

'I'll be back later.'

He hit the power button and left the room, leaving his computer to shut down automatically.

He stopped only long enough to grab a jacket, and headed for the door. There was a park just around the corner he went to at times like this. The door slammed behind him and he stalked out into the evening.

'Can't do it myself, huh?'

He stormed down the street towards the park, kicking the occasional rock.

'I belong to her? What is this? The middle-ages?'

He continued muttering angrily to himself, power-walking towards the park. Someone on a pushbike passed him, and Brent breifly looked up, catching the man's curious glance before the cyclist was past him and down the street.

Brent's gaze returned to the bitumen in front of him, and he continued muttering - under his breath this time.

The light was fading. He still had at least half an hour before it was dark though. And the drizzle had let up, so that was something, at least.

Normally the park was pretty quiet, especially at this time of day. There'd be a few people taking their dog for a walk, maybe one or two kids, or some teenagers keeping to themselves and passing a bottle around. All in all, it was a pretty good place to sit and think about things.

But as he approached and the park came into view around the last of the houses, Brent swore to himself in irritation.

There was some sort of family reunion going on. There were a dozen kids chasing a footy up and down the oval. There were another twenty or thirty people around the barbeque area. Laughing loudly, joking, flipping steaks over, passing out plates...

The park was filled with them. Filled to overflowing with their exuberance. Their good cheer, their laughter, their happiness...

All Brent wanted was a quiet place to sit and think.

All he got was this.

Damn Louise anyway.

He looked around again sourly. It was still an hour till his lesson, and the next park was two km away. But he'd be damned if he went back now. Gave in. Let some fourteen year old...

Let some fourteen year old stop him playing games, and help him with his grades.

Brent sighed again.

Maybe he could stay here anyway? Ignore the group, find a tree to sit under...

Except the drizzle had left everything wet...

Or he could...

Someone pressed play on a stereo, and some the park was rocked by AC-DC's thunderstruck. There was a cheer, and some of the more drunk started singing along.

He absently checked his phone again... which Louise had apparently locked. Looked back at the group... Some of them were now air-guitaring the riffs.

Fuck.

He sighed a final time, and headed home.

As he re-entered the house, he noted sourly that his computer hadn't shut down this time either. It now had a word document open and as he crossed the path of the webcam, more text started scrolling across it, in a large, offensively neon-pink cursive font

'Mistress is delighted to see

Her familiar develop some maturity

Brent gritted his teeth. He really wanted to either smash his computer or just walk away. He stood there, seething, with the computer silently mocking him. Before, finally, teeth clenched, he sat, and punched his message into the keyboard.

'Lets just do this.'

BRENT'S NOTES:

Philosophy 102, Assignment 2, Reading.

Ayer, A.J Philosophical Essays, Chapter 12, Freedom and Necessity. Pge 271 to 284

Ayer puts forth the Dilemma argument. Either our actions are controlled by chance, or by determinism. Either way, not our free will.

Pge 279 – Ayer makes the comment that being compelled to do something (tortured to give up information) does not mean we have to do it. Just means other alternatives are more unpleasant. We still go through the process of deciding whether to do it or not.

Says 'To say that I could have acted otherwise is to say, first, that I should have acted otherwise if I had so chosen (this differs with Frankfurts view) Secondly, that my action was voluntary in the sense in which the actions, say, of a kleptomaniac (Or epileptic) are not; and thirdly, that nobody compelled me to choose as I did (I would disagree with this last) . . . When they are fulfilled, I may be said to have acted freely.