The Eight-track Connecton (Story-Repost)

[Syd]

The Eight Track Connection

The High School stood there, a behemoth of concrete and stone.
Students milled around in the cold morning air and waited.
The figure that strode up to Irmo High School was not a pleasant one.
He trod up the steps and stopped by the main door. He dropped his bag
and sat on it. His long dark hair was disheveled, his brilliant eyes
glazed. He rubbed his dark trench coat, trying to rub out non-
existent
stains. He glanced at the large window beside the main doors.
Standing
there with her back to him was a dark haired girl in a long and
hooded
fake-fur coat. He twitched in his seat, his hands moving randomly.
Paul Wright was tired. He'd never felt worse. It was more then
physical. It might be temporal.
He struggled to his feet, slipped, caught himself before bumping into
the girl at the window. He rubbed at a spot on his coat. He glared at
something on the ceiling. He dropped his hands with a sigh.
No good, he thought. I need a transfusion.
His hands wandered.
He stared at nothing. He was trying to come up with an answer to this
problem, but his mind was foggy. He couldn't concentrate.
His left hand felt warm. He looked at it.
"Oh, fuck", he said, laughing.
His hand held the girl's rear firmly.
He howled with laughter.
He wandered into the classroom, and sat at the desk. He put his head
down. His breath came out in a buzzing wheezing. Many students looked
at him in disgust.
Paul stood at a window.
Nothing moved. The steel-Grey sky shone. He brushed long disheveled
hair from his sunken, red-rimmed eyes looking out of a lined, pale
face. His long trench coat was moldy. He rubbed the back of his hand
that glowed briefly. His skin was lined, as if his skin had cracked
open and rehealed. He smiled at his image in the glass. It didn't
smile back. From above, a guy yelled that class had started.
Mechanically, He opened the door and walked out.
The old Bull street mental health center that housed Paul's Time
Central was nearly frozen solid. Paul stood and stared at the door,
blankly he touched it, feeling its icy surface. He tugged at the
handle, felt it catch, thud solidly, but it remained closed. He
sighed, put his hand on the sensor.
Slowly, reluctantly, the door finally opened. A blast of air, colder
then the outside temperature escaped. He sighed, entered the
building.
The machine filled nearly the entire west wing of the hospital.
Paul stared at the large black slabs, the towers affixed to the
walls.
The super conductor was buried deep in the machine. Ice covered the
blank surfaces. He sighed yet again. His problems were complicated
now. And he didn't think he had the strength to correct them.
Time and temporal circuits were running forward, bringing things
around and about nuggets of negative equations. The UVAL sat, encased
in ice. He sighed yet again, put his hand on the panel, felt only
cold. Nothing moved. Nothing radiated.
It was like him, he thought. Higher functions chilled. Only baser
instincts intact. It was like he was dying, in a way.
He lay back on his bed, closing his heavy eyes. Dark dreams hovered
nearby. His near complete lack of energy bothered him. He couldn't
seem to rouse himself into action, or to connect.
He sighed.
What he needed was a complete reboot. He knew of maybe two people
who
were qualified to perform that, but both were disinclined to help
him.
His arm felt heavy as he opened his eyes, and put it across them. He
turned, back towards the wall. He closed his eyes.
Fuck them both, he thought bitterly. If they didn't want to help,
fine, he wasn't about to beg either one.
Sunlight streamed through his window. Paul got up, performed his
morning rituals, went to the kitchen, then lay down on the couch,
until the car arrived. Then, wearing the same clothes he'd had on
since yesterday, he went out and was driven to school.
Principle Valek glared at him from across his desk. He was fingering
Paul's file unhappily. Paul stared back blankly. His eyes were
glazed,
his skin pallid and cold, his movements heavy. Valek read several
pages of his folder, scowled.
"So," He said "A history of troublemaking, eh?"
Paul stayed silent, stared at him blankly.
Valek stared at him, a gaze of inflexible authority. A gaze unwilling
to concede anything to a student. Paul didn't look away. Finally,
Valek looked down at his folders in a triumphant way.
"Cutting class, as you are want to do, is not acceptable" he said,
tossing Paul's folders aside with a decisive gesture.
"We must put a stop to that, of course. Discipline must be
maintained.
If we allow one person to get away with breaking the rules, soon
everyone will be doing it. Anarchy is the result."
Paul didn't move or acknowledge him. The principle growled, "Have you
no respect at all for authority?"
He made no reply.
"If not," Valek continued, "That can be" He smiled humorlessly,
"modified."
Paul continued to not react. Valek just continued.
"When you are here, we are what is legally known as in parentis
locus.
That means we are legally responsible if something happens to you.
Now, do you see why we can't allow this to continue?"
Paul still didn't answer or react. Valek grunted, and sat back.
"Have it your way. I have an idea for your punishment," He said. He
chuckled, and passed a piece of paper over to him. Paul took it,
shoved it into his pocket, and rose to leave. Valek shot out of his
chair
with a shout.
"I didn't give you permission to leave!"
Paul sank back into his seat. Valek eyed him contemptuously, then,
with a dismissive glance, said, "Alright, you may go."
Paul exited the office, ignoring his archenemy Michael Keller's smug
and contemptuous look. Outside, he saw Ms. Laurie rounding a corner.
Her face was blank. She looked at him and he grimaced, choose the
other corner to return to class. She let out a long breath as she
watched him go.
Paul Wright hit the ground hard.
His lip was split, his nose bloody. He sat up on the grass, wiping
his
mouth as he stared up at his tormentors. The bright lights of the
football stadium blinded him. Thu them, he saw the shapes of his
tormentors. A foot struck his mouth, sending him flying again. He
heard a cheer from behind the lights. Three of the shadowy figures
surrounded him now. Another foot appeared, struck him. Blood flew in
the white light like a scarlet rainbow. A knee connected with his
chest. He felt a rib crack.
Another overpowering cheer.
One of the figures said, "Oh, look, you've stained his new shoes."
Paul looked up at the figures. He propped himself up awkwardly.
"You" The second figure said, "Are going to clean them up."
He looked at them blankly. The figure raised his hand, slapping Paul
across the face. He again hit the ground hard. His breathing was
heavy. Blood congealed around him. A figure connected with his side.
"C'mon you. Clean up your mess."
The figure put his shoe under his chin. The first one slapped him
again.
"Do it!"
Slowly, Paul opened his mouth. He licked the shoe under his chin.
"Again."
His tongue slipped out, drew a path over the brown leather. His eyes
were glassy.
"Enough" said the figure, and the shoe hit him across the mouth. He
went flying. His breathing was even heavier. Another deafening
roaring
cheer swept over him, and then he was aware of nothing else.
A month passed. Eventually, Paul rose from his bed and made for the
bathroom. He was surprised to find Ms. Laurie striding towards his
room. They regarded each other in silence, then:
"And what," He said, "Do I owe this visit, Ms. Laurie?"
She swept her blonde hair out of her dark eyes, said "Nothing you
could ever pay me, Mr. Wright."
Paul snorted, made for the bathroom. She followed, stood at the door
as he splashed water on his face to clear the blood.
"Are you just" He said "Here to mock me, then?"
"You know better then that, Mr. Wright."
"So you say."
She stood there as he stripped off his shirt, turned on the shower,
stripped off the rest of his clothes, and got in.
She said, "You almost seem your old self again."
He smirked at that. He continued washing, letting the grime of that
night and the scarlet streams gently fall off. He pulled a towel over
himself, returned to his room, and started to select that days
clothing. He ignored Ms. Laurie, who was standing in the door. He
pulled on a T-shirt.
"There are... Conditions, if you want them," She said.
"I didn't ask," He said peevishly, "For your help."
"No," She replied, "But it's obvious that you need it."
"Obvious to whom?"
She shrugged, pulling a card from her bag.
"Here," She said. "My number. Call me when you're ready."
He took it. She turned and was gone.
Time Central had not changed since he'd been gone.
He auto-cranked the door open, then walked the echoing halls until he
came to a terminal of the massive computer. He now had an idea of the
source of the interference. He rebooted the computer, and, after
several tries, it lit up. On a screen was a pattern of lines. In the
center was a large bulge. He entered Ms. Laurie's number, while
cursing the slow computing speed. Eventually, the results were
displayed.
Paul Wright smiled.
Irmo High School sat in the gloomy night. Its windows reflected the
dark back out. Paul glided up to the school. The night air was cold
and crisp in his lungs, as he arrived at the main doors. He glanced
inside, saw nothing, and pulled a devise from his pocket. He touched
the locks with it, heard them turn, and carefully entered the gloomy
recesses of the building.
He glanced around, and then crossed the hall towards the classes. He
noticed a growing brightness approaching from the far side of the
hall. He cursed, hurriedly passed through the doorway to the stairs.
Through the window set in the door, he watched a night watchman as he
bounced his flashlight back and forth the corridor. Paul's hand
slipped to his sonic gun.
The light passed over the walls. It played across the windows in the
stairway doors. It moved on further down the hall. The watchman
hadn't
noticed Paul at all. He let out a breath, exited back into the halls.
He watched the light recede down the hall. He then slipped from
shadow
to shadow, inspecting each of the classrooms.
Paul stood on the second floor of the school, cursing his rash
fullness.
So far, he'd detected nothing. Not a temporal disturbance to be
found.
He slipped around a corner, saw a long corridor enveloped in blue and
back. He sighed, started to slip down it, when he became aware of a
growing brightness behind him. He cursed, hid in the utility closet.
The light eventually resolved itself into the form of the night
watchman. He was still restlessly swinging his flashlight around,
from
wall to wall. He seemed to be searching for something. As he passed,
Paul decided he's had enough of ducking him. He carefully stepped out
of the closet, and, as the man turned with his hand on his gun,
smashed his sonic gun across the night-man's head. He fell, and
didn't
move.
Paul wiped his wet forehead, looked around cautiously. He saw nothing
moving, no approaching lights, heard anything. He nodded, pulled the
man's body into the closet. He bound and gagged him, and left him to
be discovered by whoever arrived first.
Paul stopped, and glanced into a small office in the back.
Inside, the three main principles and the overseeing principle sat.
They seemed to be in a meeting. At this hour, that was suspicious.
He saw Valek and another antagonist, Temples. Major V. McCarty, the
overseeing principle, was reading a document, and this was causing
great emotions in the others. He smirked.
All his tormentors in one room.
The shouting and arguing reached a crescendo. Paul decided he'd had
enough. He opened the door, smiled hollowly as they turned.
"What the hell," Temples yelled, "Are you doing here?"
Paul only smiled. He fingered a round object in his pocket.
McCarty said, imperiously, "This is a high-level meeting between
school officials. Students are not allowed here."
"Like he cares about rules" Valek roared.
"Leave now," McCarty said, ignoring Valek, "Or the police will be
called."
"Ha!" Valek exclaimed. "That just what this little monster deserves!"
"And to have them lock him away, and throw away the key" Temples
added.
"In that case," Paul said, pulling the ball out of his pocket and
tossing it to Temples. He caught it awkwardly. It began to emit white
smoke.
The principle rushed at him. He had his sonic gun out, and vaporized
one of them. They succumbed to the gas, and fell to the floor.
Paul regarded the fallen.
Paul had completed a circuit of the main building. He had found
nothing. He stood at the top of the stairs, pondering. He then
sprinted down them, and outside the back, towards the gym. Down
another stairway, across a courtyard, to a building below the
cafeteria. He tried the large black door.
It was locked. He pulled out the lock devise, and was soon inspecting
the rooms inside. The ROTC classes were buttoned down. He found them
deserted. He traversed a corridor under burning fluorescent lights.
Finally, he found another black door.
This one was locked too. Heavy duty locked.
He smiled. His fingers had detected temporal disturbances. He was
right after all. The devise took a few minutes longer then before,
but
eventually the great door swung open.
Paul had hit pay dirt.
The room housed a machine.
It covered the wall with large cabinets. Large black squares lined
the
open floor. A terminal sat in a corner. An exact copy of his machine
at Time Central. He smiled. The design was crude. It looked like it
had been built on the cheap. Or that the distributors had charged
ridiculous prices for cheap product. Either way, it wasn't the wizard
his machine was.
It was still effective, though.
He punched up a read-out. It confirmed what he suspected. This was
the
cause of his problems. The temporal disturbances originated here. In
an attempt at streamlining the time stream, they were deleting
crucial
equation and formulas. Time was unstable. It could crash at any
moment.
Paul pulled an eight-track cassette. He pulled the one they were
using
out, and replaced it with the one he carried.
He heard rushing sounds from outside. He crossed to the door, slipped
two bolts into place, and locked the handle. Banging started on the
door. He went to the machine, activated it. At first, nothing
happened.
Then, he felt a lurch. It was like being on a rollercoaster and going
down hill. He felt light-headed. He braced himself against the
computer.
The temporal field had started.
He dimly heard the pounding lessen, and then stop completely.
The room took on a fish tank appearance.
No details could be made out. Ripples flashed across. Suddenly, it
was
sharper then was tolerable.
Finally, he felt a jolt. He glanced at the machine.
It had fused solid. He turned on the monitors. Outside the door, they
showed several school personal lying comatose. Only the
administrators
wore pants. He grinned, left the building, blinking in the early
morning dusk. The air was crisp and warm. Color touched the many
plants growing around the school.
He made his way to his car, which he had hidden behind a "Just say
no!" billboard. He had, at the present at least, upset their plans.
That was enough for him right now.
He needed to go home and rest.
That afternoon, he received a phone call from Gina Ameck.
"Hey, Paul, where were you?"
"Here and about."
"It's just... We missed you at graduation yesterday."
"Was it yesterday? Sorry. I got..."
"Yeah?"
"Caught in a time stream," he said and laughed. A pause told him she
was put off.
"Well, um, I hope you weren't swept away," she said finally.
"Almost, kid, almost."
"Yeah... Well, I wanted to let ya know that we missed ya..."
"Who's we?"
"Er... I gotta go. Talk to ya later, Ok?"
"Sure."
He went to look in a mirror. His wounds were completely gone. He
winked at himself in the glass. His reflection winked back.