© Copyright 2008 by silli_artie@hotmail.com
This work may not be reposted or redistributed without the prior
express written permission of the author.
A work of fiction, meant for adults. Read something else if you are
not an adult, or are offended by stories with sexual content. Then
again, if all you’re looking for is in-out, in-out, in-out, you
should probably read something else. I welcome constructive comments. Enjoy.
A beautiful Saturday! I woke late, cleaned up, had a late breakfast, and strolled out the door to cool weather (warm for London, thank you) and high clouds, perfect photographic weather if I had a good camera. I started the short walk to Hyde Park to explore the mesh.
It wasn’t quite eleven in the morning yet, but the park was filling up -- and as I crossed the street to the park, I felt it, I felt the mesh.
Interesting... If I let my mind drift, I went off into a fog, yet if I concentrated on a problem, it seemed I got sharper... Not quite a fog, more like being close to a waterfall -- a strong source of noise. Stopping by the Coreto near the Round Pond, thinking about data gathering. My iPhone -- that was it -- a simple hack to send current GPS position to a fixed mailbox, plus the value of a slider for mesh strength, 0 for no mesh. Could even build in reminders. That should be easy. Never done an iPhone app before; I stuck to Mathematica and Python mostly. I could “see” the UI though, a slider, and you tilt the iPhone to one side or the other to select mesh strength... Yeah, that would work. Where could I hire out a bunch of new iPhones for a few weeks to do data collection?
Standing, walking along, thinking of the other side. I’d done other projects using cell phone sensors to collect data. Filtering was important, and would be even more so with people involved. I could still remember those old models, assigning a credibility score, a weight, to each phone. Definitely need to do that again.
Lots of couples snuggling, lots of people reading, kids running around.
I sat again to think. Kalman or neural net? Two different approaches. Or, both? Run the thing wide open at first just to see the data. What’s the cell size, granulation? Closing my eyes briefly, I was still in the mesh. Opening my eyes, the nearest person was 20 feet away or so. When I’d come into the park, first felt it, well, I was in a crowd of people crossing the street, so difficult to tell. I could almost see contours flowing around people, gradients as they moved.
So cosmopolitan -- hearing a number of different languages, a number of different styles of laughter. The laughter made me feel we just might survive as a species yet. But what was that species? Homo mesh?
A group of Spanish women approaching, five or six of them, young, chatting happily, some of them carrying blankets, a basket, setting up in the grass near some trees.
So pretty... One in particular, long dark hair, so top heavy... I tried not to stare, to return to designing data analysis, figuring out grid spacing, but glanced over to them every so often.
She was wearing a black top, a ribbed fabric, the ribs in the fabric emphasizing her full contours... Contours -- what I should be thinking about.
Damn... So pretty, so happy. Laughing, carrying on. Kari and Jan, dead. Mike, Vicki, Peter, and two of his, dead. Henry and Marge? Who knows -- does Patrick? And why? Fear? The war is over; homo sap has lost. Change or die. Hah -- change and die. Second Noble Truth, Second Law of Thermodynamics -- same thing -- life’s a bitch, and then you die.
And they’re so happy, so pretty. Oops... I blushed as they caught me looking. Damn... Peter, or Mike or Vicki must have screwed with my head at the last minute. Damn glad they did, they must have, or how else could I have gone so long sleeping alone?
A soft touch on my arm; looking up, two of them smiling, pulling me to standing, over with them, down to the blankets with them, and the one I’d noticed first, the one who filled me with such hunger... She wrapped her arms around my head, pulling me to heaven, burying me between soft yet firm breasts, the sound of her heart filling me. I held on. All I could do, all I needed to do. Hold on, pulling her more on top of me. The sound of her heart, her weight partially on top of me, her arms holding me, letting go and being there, just being there.
She pulled away; I managed to open my eyes. Leaning over me still, such pretty brown eyes. She said something, smiling, touching my cheek. Felt funny, probably marks from her top. One of the others said something and she moved, another took her place. She didn’t hold me as well, but I held her, held on.
Dreamland, being held, holding on. Trying to clear my head, propping myself up on one elbow as they argued, laughing. One turned to me with a fierce smile, and as she moved closer, she pulled up her top. The others made noise as she popped her bra and pulled me to a nipple.
A firm, experienced nipple, she held me, rolling my head around. Somehow I knew she was fertile; all I had to do ... no, not here, not now. But I was so hungry, and she tasted so good.
She moved on top of me, rolling her hips. I could hear the others in the distance, so far away. Not here, not now -- I flared my hands a little as I held her, enough to collapse her on top of me. Other hands pushed us together. Moaning -- hers, mine, others. Not here, not now.
“Rob, sit up, Rob -- we need to go,” a woman called.
I forced my eyes open; I wanted to stay where I was, being held, floating there.
“Rob, Patrick says we have to go,” she said.
I took a breath and shook my head, trying to clear it. I managed to sit up. The one who had been holding me sat up and straightened her top. I reached out and pulled her close for a moment, sliding a hand up the back of her head, sending her into orgasm, easing her down to the blankets. Her eyes were closed, such a look on her face.
“Rob, please -- Patrick says...”
“I hear you,” I managed to say, moving to hands and knees. I stood up, still spaced out.
I did something, focusing on something, and cleared my head. Oh my -- what the hell!
The woman standing in front of me was short, Eurasian, curvy but small on top.
“Patrick sent you to rescue me?” I said, holding out a hand. Clear almond skin, oval eyes, pretty smile framed by short black hair.
“Jenine,” she said, taking my hand. “Yes -- he ... couldn’t get you himself.”
“I understand. Let’s go.” I turned back to the ladies and waved. “Thank you!”
They waved and called, except for the one who was still out on the blanket.
I took a few steps, breathing through my nose, focusing more. “Wow...” I glanced at my watch -- three and a half hours! “What a trip!” I put an arm around her waist as we walked, automatically. When I realized it and tried to step away, she held my arm in place.
“I like that,” she told me.
“He’s keeping a safe distance?” I suggested.
She sighed. “I hope so.”
“I understand; it’s so easy for them to get lost in it. Has that happened to him?”
She held my arm tighter. “A few weeks ago. I was so scared -- I didn’t know if I could get him away! I got him home, and still, it took a while.”
“It can take days to recover,” I told her.
“Yes -- he was so ...”
“So easy to get lost in it -- I was lost...” I admitted.
“That’s what he said -- he was worried about you,” she told me.
I felt -- I stopped and turned her to me, picking her up in my arms, hugging her close and tight, kissing her neck. I put her down, stepped back, and said, “Slap me.”
She did, quickly and sharply.
I gave her another quick hug. “Thanks -- that helped. Where’s Patrick?”
She smiled and pulled my arm around her again. “Nearby pub, a short walk from here.”
“Safe distance...”
“I hope so!”
Walking through the park, a lot of couples were kissing, or snuggling, suckling. After seeing the third or fourth woman quite obviously suckling someone, and another suckling her beau as she rode him. I realized I shouldn’t be surprised -- the mesh as an amplifier! And me as a Seed? Did that make a difference? I had to believe it did.
“Let’s get out of here!” I told her, walking faster.
We hiked a ways outside the park. I felt us part with the mesh after a block or so. I paused. “Feel it?” I asked her.
She looked at me, head tilted a bit. “Yes... It’s gone!”
“Good! Let’s walk back and see where we pick it up again. Tell me when you feel it.”
Strange -- we walked pretty much back to the park before I felt it, and she paused and said, “I feel it again!” “So do I, good. I was wondering about that. Let’s go.”
We got out to about the same spot and we dropped out of it again. Hysteresis! On one edge or both? Felt like just the trailing edge, leaving the mesh. “Okay, once we’re part of it, we stretch the boundary, until it can’t support us anymore, a hysteresis effect,” I thought out loud.
“Like putting your finger in a viscous liquid, pulling it away,” she suggested.
“What a fascinating problem!” I gave her a squeeze.
My mind was racing with new models as we walked -- and I’m lucky she was with me as I wasn’t looking the “right” way at intersections.
Patrick was sitting in a corner booth in a pub. I got a pint of the local, as did Jenine.
I sat across from Patrick, Jenine sliding in next to him and giving him a kiss on the cheek.
Patrick frowned. “You are a problem...” he said, pointing at me with his half-full pint.
I took a sip of my brew. Not bad. “Not by choice.”
He frowned but nodded. “Yeah.”
“Thanks for sending the rescue crew. You were watching for a while?”
He shook his head. “As much as I could -- even that was ... hard.”
“Think I answered one of my questions, on the mesh amplifying,” I told them.
He smiled. “Early on, before you got ... lost, you were thinking about ... some modeling stuff. Damn -- I could feel the mesh kick in; it was like you hooked up more batteries or something. I was never good at math, but I could feel, almost see all these things whizzing by.”
I smiled. This was one I hadn’t anticipated! But it made sense! “And from what I saw walking out, it amplified later, as well.”
“An understatement,” Patrick muttered into his almost empty pint. “You’re a walking population explosion.”
“Walking? Thought I controlled it fairly well.”
He chuckled. Jenine was giving him quite the lustful look. “You may have controlled yourself, partially, but what you were radiating, and what the mesh picked up...”
He paused, frowning for a moment, then smiling. “I’ll meet you for dinner.” He pointed to me. “You -- stay away from the park.” He gave Jenine a squeeze. “Don’t let him out of your sight. Keep him out of trouble.”
With that, Jenine moved to let him out. He pointed a finger at me again and reiterated, “Stay out of trouble!”
“Where’s he going?” I asked after he was out the door.
She shrugged. “I don’t know. We’ll see him for dinner. I’d bet on Indian.”
“Haven’t had any good Indian food yet.” I sighed and sat back. “What a trip...”
“I was wondering,” she asked after a while.
“Yes?”
“We’ve heard that you can ... just with a touch...”
I nodded. “Not in here. I imagine Patrick can do the same thing.”
“Oh yes...” she glowed.
I shook my head. “You’re going to get me into trouble...”
She laughed.
We talked for a while. She was an honors engineering grad, and had been working for a local firm when she met Patrick about a year and a half ago. Big smile.
And I’d been on a roller coaster for a year or so. Hopefully things were leveling out.
She thought things were changing rapidly.
Yes, and I hoped they were changing for the better. I wondered what the incidence of things such as pickpocketing were doing, and how the mesh was influencing that.
She nodded. That would be an interesting one to follow up.
I thought there would be a lot of those kinds of things unwinding over the next year, a lot of transitions.
Only a year, she asked.
I mused she must have read history as well -- some transitions take a generation.
She told me that some times the tube was a lot less frenzied, less stressful than others -- and surprisingly, some of the peak times were now the easiest. A lot of people noticed that.
Sounded like the mesh to me, that cross product exceeding a threshold -- did she notice differences going through the same station at different times of the day?
Yes, and most of the times, the more people, the easier it was -- did that make sense?
Perfect sense! Once you get the mesh formed, people flow in and out of it. Do you sweat for a while after leaving one?
She didn’t know. I reached over and ran my thumb over the back of her hand. A little, it felt like. Same with mine. Hell, I was surprised I wasn’t in the full stoned sweats!
Gee, the current thought was that people exiting the mesh went contagious for a while. Maybe that faded with constant in-and-out of the mesh? Interesting questions. We need better tests, something that doesn’t rely on personal evaluation prone to error. The contagious period is proportional to, or at least a monotonic function of, membership time in the mesh?
Or maybe time and depth? Jenine confessed to missing her stop more on the tube, sort of fading out -- something that she hadn’t done for a long time.
That’s great! How do we get reports of people missing stops? Two dimensions of the mesh -- if you’re concentrating on something, the mesh helps. If you’re not, you can get lost in the roar of the mesh -- I told her of the waterfall analogy and she agreed strongly, nodding.
And Patrick thought I’d been in it really deep -- she thought he was scared; that’s why he sent her to get me out. That and other people were watching, watching me.
Oh, who? Americans?
She wasn’t sure, but she thought it was more than one group.
I frowned. Things aren’t getting easier... I got out my notebook and started sketching out more questions, possible experiments to perform. Jenine was sharp -- we started bouncing ideas back and forth through another pint. We had some good observations for the day -- hysteresis, or viscosity leaving the mesh. Increased focus some times, getting lost other times. We needed a third person -- to map the contours between a satellite and the main body of the mesh.
“Not today!” Jenine insisted.
I nodded. I know, I’m supposed to behave.
I tried brainstorming on other areas -- where would the mesh form, and where wouldn’t it form, if we made basic assumptions about density?
Passenger aircraft? Maybe, maybe not. A380 maybe? More basic question -- does a mesh have an identity, individual characteristics that can be transferred by an offshoot from one mesh to another?
Royal Albert Hall -- yeah, a given. Same with big football (soccer) and cricket matches.
Cruise ships -- probably. Nature of the mesh as a field -- is it electromagnetic; can it be shielded or attenuated by conductive and/or ferromagnetic materials? What propagates it?
Jenine thought there was something olfactory as well; when she approached me, and then when I picked her up, when she got close, smelling me... I saw her body respond... She said she wanted to do something very unladylike...
Oh, sounds very feminine to me...
She asked if I needed slapped again...
No, thanks -- I needed it at the time though, and was very glad she came to rescue me. But isn’t that backwards? The damsel rescuing the knight?
She smiled but turned serious. She’d rescued Patrick once, and that had been enough.
So what’s he going to do as the mesh spreads? How will he cope?
She shook her head. There seemed to be a difference between what happened at the park, and on the Tube, or at Heathrow.
Transitory as opposed to static? The park is pretty much static, and Tube stations and Heathrow are dynamic, people going in and out all the time, a smaller static component. You need more of the static component for the ... soporific effect? Maybe. More notes in my book.
She looked up for a moment. “We should go.”
Okay -- I visited the loo, returning rented beer.
“I figured we could walk -- it’s fifteen minutes.”
“Fine with me.”
She pulled my arm around her and gave me a big smile.
Chelsea, Fulham Road, an Indian place. We were shown downstairs. I saw Patrick.
And sitting next to him was a blonde woman, short curly hair, a nice but not beautiful face, but what I could see of her figure -- full, my weakness.
And the bastard had me sitting across from her.
“Rob Marsh, Selene Hughes,” he introduced
She stood up. She was wearing a skirt, couldn’t tell how long. Her top showed her waist. What a figure... “Patrick has told me a lot about you,” she said, looking me in the eye.
“I’m glad you’re here anyway,” I told her.
She smiled and her eyes twinkled.
We had a very good dinner; almost spicy enough. Selene was at the edge of what she could tolerate, and stuck to the milder dishes, while Jenine and I enjoyed the spicier ones.
Selene was here working for a multinational finance firm; she was Belgian by birth, and quite continental in her education. She thought her position was solid, but so had friends at other firms. She smiled at me and asked what I did.
I was a consultant; my background in physics and mathematics, complex systems. I was just starting some new inquiries, areas I didn’t understand, so I was bound to learn a lot.
Something about Selene didn’t seem right. Lacking self-confidence? Too self-depreciating? Not sure. I certainly thought she was a beautiful woman.
Patrick threw in his opinion that I was bound to go far, to which I replied it depended on how far they chased me.
Dinner drew to a close. Patrick picked it up. Upstairs, he called a cab and the three of us got in, Jenine waving to us as she closed the cab door and Patrick gave the cabbie the Kensington flat address.
I turned to ask what was going on and he put a hand on my forehead.
I understood, so many things. Selene had gone through the fourth wave less than a month ago -- she’d lost over a third of her prior weight. She hadn’t adjusted to, accepted, her beauty.
And as it had happened before, she now belonged to me, and I belonged to her.
We made it back to the flat, and upstairs. I undressed her, my hands tingling, running them over her body, so hungry for her, taking her to bed. So strong, so good sliding together, on top of her, kissing her. The sounds she made, the feeling of her hands on me drove me on, drove me in, so good. The noise she made drove me on.
Waking up in the morning, moving but being pulled closer, being held close, oh so good! Early morning snuggling, skin against skin, drifting in and out of sleep.
We barely made it out of bed Sunday; we did come out for brunch, and then went to the flat she shared with two other women to get some of her things, back to my flat and back to bed.
This time she was on top of me, riding, riding, holding me tight. As I felt her start to come, my hands holding her hips, I flared both of them, and she cried out even more. She held me closer, rocking, rocking, taking me with her, holding me still as she collapsed to the bed.
Oh to wake in someone’s arms again! To almost wake to the sound of a beating heart, to drift attached to a nipple.
And wake up to the sound of a phone going off...
Oh well. Not many people had that phone number, my iPhone.
“Yah?”
Patrick laughing. “Check your e-mail; you have a nine o’clock with the Professor. It’s raining -- I’ll send a cab.” Click.
It was a little before seven. Yes, Selene needed to get up as well. We showered separately, she went first. By the time I got out, she was downstairs, having breakfast! My clothes had been set out, and the room tidied a little. It had been a glorious mess!
When I got downstairs (turtleneck, not tie), Nichole was discussing with Selene picking up the remainder of her things and moving in. Guess I don’t need to do anything about that!
I sat down to breakfast as Selene got up, giving me a big hug and kiss, and told me she’d see me around six.
I had breakfast alone, committing the modern sin of eating with a computer at the table. Well, if it’s just me, why not? I checked e-mail and confirmed, trading messages on cab versus Tube at this time of day. I decided on the highly recommended cab.
The cab arrived. I packed the computer in my portfolio, with my notebook, and went out into the morning drizzle.
Even with “the knowledge,” the drive was leisurely, which is to say, slow. I felt us going in and out of the mesh twice. Different or the same mesh? No idea.
Arrived at King’s and made my way to the Prof’s building. Rain had stopped, or at least paused. On the way across campus a gent stopped me wanting to know if I needed directions. I confirmed the building with him; I had it right. In the main entrance, elevator to the third floor.
Except when I got in, I punched three and five. When the elevator got to three, I moved to the side, and let the door cycle open and closed. When it opened on five, I got off, went down the hallway and turned left. Men’s room -- might as well do something useful; I stopped to take a leak. Exiting, had I come from the right, or the left? Left a ways, turn, and down the stairs.
Why? Where’s the bleeding cheese?
Third floor. I started to open the door, but stopped. Wait.
Okay, now. I opened the door, stepping into the corridor. Went down the hall and found her office; the door was open.
Patrick was standing there. He put a finger in front of his mouth. “Shhh,” then pointed to a chair. I sat as he closed the door.
Patrick leaned up against a wall, facing it, his hands at about head level on the wall, his forehead touching his hands. Why did he have gloves on?
Commotion and whistles sounding outside through an open window. More commotion, more whistles. Took a few minutes to quiet down.
Patrick turned, smiling. He looked like he was sweating. “Let’s go!” he called.
We moved quickly out of the office, down the stairs, and out a side door. He wound us through Kings to the street, tossing his gloves into a bin, hailing a cab. We got in and he gave the cabbie an address. Sounded familiar, somehow, but I couldn’t place it.
“What the fuck is going on?” I growled.
He held up a hand and chuckled. “A few minutes -- almost done.”
It took us more than a few minutes to get to our destination, a newer office block.
He paid the cab and we went into the building, to an elevator, eighth floor.
“Where the hell are we going?” I growled again.
He looked at me. “To your office!”
Yes, I recognized the company name on the door. Patrick pointed to a black plate on the wall next to the door. On a hunch I bumped it with my wallet. Beep, click! In we went.
Lights came on in the suite, which seemed deserted, but clean. We were in a reception area, with offices behind us and to the right on a short hallway. Patrick went to a small refrigerator and got a can of Pepsi, opening and draining it. “Damn, that was hard, but worth it!”
He plopped down on a couch. I sat across from him. “Care to tell me what’s going on?”
He shook his head, a sad smile. “She sold you out to the Yanks. Half a million pounds.”
“What!”
He nodded. “Sold you out -- agreed to deliver you to her office, and they would take it from there. She set up the meeting, you confirmed, and tally ho, the game was afoot. Oh, you’re quite popular if you hadn’t guessed, and that phone of yours makes you quite easy to track. No, don’t toss it, it’s a good thing. They tracked you from your flat. As soon as you got into the cab, she left her office, washing her hands of the deal -- so she thinks. The snatch team moved in, a woman and two men.”
He got up. “I need another. Want one?” he asked, getting another Pepsi.
“Sure,” I told him. He handed me one.
He sat down and emptied about half the can. “Burns a lot of energy. Anyway, you went in the building and got in the elevator. They radioed the snatch team you were on your way. Her dean walks up to her office, knocks, the woman invites him in, and he is quickly tasered, sedated, slung over a bloke’s shoulder, and hustled down the nearby stairwell to a waiting lorry.”
“Except for some reason, that part of the campus was on security alert! As the lorry pulled up, so did security police, who were extremely curious. Particularly when three people pop out of a side door carrying a body and load it into the lorry! Got quite the enthusiastic reception they did! They are now in custody and the dean is on his way to hospital.”
“And the dear prof?”
He shrugged. “Hope she’s got clean undies. She’s going to need them.”
I shook my head. “And where does this leave me?”
“Still walking about,” he said with a grin. “Thanks to me. You’re lucky I decided to peep that bitch again; I had a hunch something was up. Some of us are good with hunches.”
“Like Mike?” I asked with a scowl.
He shook his head. “Hope I’m better than that, mate.”
“I’m sorry,” I apologized, “So do I.”
“I know. That bunch really stepped in it. Should discourage further attempts. And I think I’ve also derailed other efforts still in the planning stages.”
I didn’t like the way he was smiling. “Oh? Care to explain?”
He shook his head with a smiling scowl. “You were more popular Saturday than Page 3! And after what people saw, at least after they got untangled from the orgy you set off, they all started looking to recruit the best, biggest pair of tits they could find in their organizations.”
“Selene,” I offered.
He nodded. “You need each other. She needs you, and God knows you need her. I strongly suggest you talk to Sir David about offering her a position as your Personal Assistant. Oh, don’t give me that look -- he’ll be tickled! You can hang out here if you want during the day, there’s a foldaway in the next room, a nice bath, and a kitchenette. She’s quite bright, and can do a lot of research work for you. Among other things.”
I shook my head. As good as it was being in her arms... “And what do you think her life expectancy will be?” I asked quietly.
“At least as long as yours -- a long time,” he told me with a smile.
I sat there fuming. Or not -- what next. “There goes my research...”
He laughed out loud. “Bugger the research! Enjoy yourself! My God, man, you’ve earned it! Live! I agree with what they did to you to keep you sane this long, but you couldn’t go much longer. Take a few days off -- go out to the estate and explore ... the grounds. Have fun -- the problems will find you, believe me!”
“Crap,” I said in disgust.
“Look on the bright side, mate,” he told me.
“And what’s that?” I challenged.
He raised his can. “You’re still here to look on the bright side.”
Had to admit, being around to complain is much better than the alternative.
“So what’s my story?” I asked him.
He shrugged. “What did you do? You had an appointment with her, found the building, hell one of their blokes gave you directions! But you didn’t remember the office number, so you went to five instead of three. You got lost on that floor, stopped to take a leak, and finally made your way down to three. When you got to her office, the door was open and the place was a mess. You hung around for a few minutes, then left. Sounds quite reasonable to me.”
I nodded. “Yeah, it does. How’s the dean doing?”
He smiled. “Oh, he’ll do just fine.”
“I drew a crowd Saturday?”
He nodded, and belched. “Your every step, which made the Yanks even more eager to deal with that bitch -- you have any number of agencies watching you.”
“But we got away this morning clean?”
He smiled. “A couple of folks looked away for just a moment. They didn’t notice me.”
“Who’s watching me? Saturday?”
He held up a hand. “Yanks, Her Majesty’s finest, bloke hired by Sir David’s group, French, German who is also feeding the Chinese, the Goldfish, that’s about it.”
“Goldfish?”
“Israeli. All but them sent blokes; the Goldfish have a bit more sense and sent a fox, who ended up getting quite entangled with the Frenchman.”
“I really started an orgy?”
He looked up for a moment. “Yes, I’d say it qualified as an orgy, or at least rampant enthusiasm of a most adult nature. I certainly hope only Seeds can do that, or we are in for some wild times!”
“And you’re going to find it hard to move about?”
His smile faded. “Got that right.” He shook his head. “I think she told you -- and you saw it for yourself. It is very frightening; it is so powerful, so overwhelming.”
“But you can go in and out of the train and tube stations?”
He frowned a bit more. “Yes... Those are different -- why? Explain it to me.”
My turn to shake my head. “Not sure. One aspect is that the park mesh is pretty static, with comparatively long term membership, where tube and train stations are transitory, membership quite fluid. And then, at the beginning, and at a few points, where I focused on technical issues, my thoughts were so clear...”
“You have ability to guide the mesh, conscious and unconscious. Especially unconscious!”
“How long did it last after I left?”
“Oh, another hour, about three hours total.”
“Surprised I didn’t see anything about it in the news, the press,” I mused.
He laughed. “And just how long did you spend on the Sunday Times?”
I smiled and sighed.
“Exactly. The Sun wrote it up briefly, with some salacious pics, and there’s a fair amount of free-lance stuff about, but the mainstream press left it alone -- they’ve been asked to tone down mesh related incidents to preserve public order, I believe that’s the operative phrase.”
I nodded. “Public order, eh?”
“Even though a lot of them are now part of it, they’re unsure where things are going, and they are concerned, a lot of people are concerned for the stability of society. Who knows what this country, or the continent is going to look like in a decade, or even half that? Very frightening to some, to some very powerful people.”
“And to some people very concerned, as you say, for overall stability and public order. Yeah, the transitions are a bitch. Wish I knew.”
“Send a message to the prof asking her if she’d like to reschedule -- you dropped by and she wasn’t in,” Patrick suggested.
“Right,” I replied, getting my laptop out.
“Got to go wired -- no wireless use here -- next office,” he suggested.
The next office in my suite had a good desk with an Ethernet cable sitting out on it. Made notes to get another AC adapter to have here. Picked up the connector.
“Is this thing hooked to a hardware firewall?” I called out.
“Load of crap in the closet -- you tell me,” he called out.
I stepped out of the office. He pointed to a closet. I opened it; a nice rack with some gear in it, a fiber going to some boxes. I decided to trust it anyway.
Hooked up my laptop and did the minimum, sending the prof an e-mail. I read it out loud before hitting send, and got a reply of “That sounds fine,” from the other room. Done.
Went back to the closet and poked around on the stuff, checking configurations.
Back to my laptop, I turned on Tor and did some reading.
Patrick stuck his head in and said, “I’ll buy you lunch.”
“Good deal -- where?”
“The Club, where else?”
“Okay. I want to stop at an Apple store on the way back.”
I had lamb chops, and they were superb. Got an AC adapter on the way back.
“Hey,” I called out to Patrick, “Got a reply from the prof!”
“What’s she say?” he asked, coming into the office.
“Sorry for missing me, what time did I arrive, that kind of bullshit -- here,” I said, turning the laptop around.
“Have Sir David pop for an external display,” he muttered as he read the thing.
He typed in a reply, that I’d gotten lost in the building, and arrived about two minutes after ten, the office was open and unoccupied, and waited about five minutes before leaving. “How’s that?” he asked.
I changed “ou” to “o” in two places; “American spelling,” I told him. He nodded. I sent the reply.
“Oh shit,” I muttered.
“What?” he asked.
“I sent that through Tor -- anyone picking apart headers will see that. I don’t know how many are snooping on that fiber.”
He smiled a bit. “From what I peeped, that fiber is a link to one of Sir David’s companies, where it gets mixed in with the rest of the traffic somehow, something with VPNs and translations? You understand it better than I do.”
I nodded. “Sounds good -- I’ll see if I can talk to a network geek for the lowdown.”
“Then you can explain it to me. What’s Tor?”
“The Onion Router -- makes it look like your packets are coming from somewhere else, and very hard to trace back. Good for anonymity.”
He nodded. “You’ll have to show me -- not today!”
I chuckled. “Okay. It’s pretty easy to use.”
“For you, mate -- let me know if we hear from the prof again. Her life is just starting to get interesting.”
“And mine?”
He clapped me on the shoulder. “Yours is always interesting -- but you also lead a charmed life. I’m here to see to that!”
“So between you and Sir David, I should be okay?”
He nodded. “Sir David, myself, our friends, the French, Germans, and just about everyone except the Yanks and maybe the Chinese. Don’t know about the Brazilians yet either.”
I sighed. “Only takes one...”
He laughed. “So live while you can, my boy!”
I wanted more info about the IT setup, but didn’t know who to call, so I got out my business card, the one with the office phone number on it, and called me. A service answered. I identified myself, and asked for help with the network at my office. Certainly, Sir, just one moment. Spoke with a knowledgeable chap who walked me through the configuration in the closet, showing me how to talk to it via the command line. He was sharp -- he understood a lot of the tradeoffs. When I mentioned I was using Tor, he remarked that they’d seen some weird stuff and figured it was something like that. The fiber ran from the office back to one of Sir David’s companies, into a big switch/router, so my traffic was mixed in with that of quite a few other people and machines; the service at the flat and at the estate were similar setups. That sounded good. I thanked him for his time. Did I need anything else? An external LCD for use with my MacBook would be useful. Be there in a day or so, with the adapter. Many thanks.
I still used secure connections, and Tor. Did a little more reading. Looked up and decided I needed to use the loo. Patrick was nowhere to be seen. Reception area, the office I’d been using, another with a large comfy-looking futon and a half bath (largish shower, good for two, which was a nice touch), and the last area was a small kitchenette. No printer, but a fairly obvious place to put one. I liked it.
A little after five, and I decided to bail. Unplugged my laptop, visited the loo one more time, and offed the lights.
Definitely hit the mesh when I got to the tube! And it was a focused, energetic mesh, not the same at all as Saturday in the park.
When I got to the flat Anthony greeted me with a message to call the solicitor; would I like to speak to him now? Sounded good. He would place the call, then.
Gee, don’t have to dirty my pinkies with the buttons!
He handed me a phone soon after. The solicitor had been in contact with my U.S. solicitor and they had arranged wire transfers of my funds, and read out the amounts to me in both dollars and pounds; printed confirmations would be sent the following day. I thanked him for the good news.
Anthony then chastised me briefly that I should please let the service know when I arrived at the office, when I departed, and what my destination would be. I understood and would do that.
Nichole informing me she’d placed Selene’s things, and would we be dining early or late?
I thought it would be better if we dined early...
Very good, Sir.
Yeah, I saw those smirks...
I stayed in the office area, working on ideas. I cracked open the Oxford archives and started going through them, skimming over a lot of material I’d seen or seen referenced and summarized already. I’d even seen some of the closed materials. I was more thorough with the stuff I hadn’t seen.
Selene arrived -- big hugs. I suggested eating early and she agreed. A few minutes to clean up, we spent time talking about her day (and mine), and were called to dinner. A nice meal, fish, veggies, salad, some cheeses.
Upstairs, we ended up on the bed in the dark. I ran my fingers over her, telling her how sensuous she was, how sexy, telling and showing her how hungry she made me. I think she got the idea! After relaxing lovemaking, we curled up together and went to sleep.
She had to get up and be in to work. I got up as well, dressing for staying in the flat and researching.
Got a call from the solicitor -- some people wanted to ask me questions about my appointment yesterday at Kings -- could I stop by at say, 10AM? Got the address; I’ll be there.
Had Anthony dress me for the occasion, and call a cab. Spoke with the solicitors -- I didn’t know what they were fishing for; I’d had an appointment with a prof at Kings, but she didn’t show, so I left. They instructed me how to respond, giving them time to object.
We moved to a conference room. Four gents from different offices, two police and two spook. We went over what I’d done Monday -- I’d had an appointment with the prof, got lost in the building, got to her office, which was open, but she wasn’t there. Hung around a few minutes and left. Went to my office.
And how had I run across the prof? Met with her last week, found her through some papers she’d published; she seemed intelligent, and was local. They showed me some pictures. Did I recognize any of them? Might have been a couple I saw in the park, but I didn’t mention those. Nope, don’t recognize any of them. I asked what this was all about. One of the spooks told me they believed an attempt had been made to abduct me, but they grabbed another individual instead. I sat back and used some of my special words, additionally hoping whoever it was fared better than Lucy... They told me the person in question was not in danger. So where did that put me? They suggested I exercise caution. Thanks a heap!
That seemed to conclude the formal part of the proceedings. Informally, they told me that they would be keeping an eye on me, and I thanked them. I was not intent on causing any difficulty. One of the spooks remarked that it wasn’t my behavior that was causing difficulty.
Bid them farewell and spent a bit of time with the solicitor. My funds had indeed arrived from the U.S. and were being held in the E.U. in a manner designed to minimize the tax hit. I heartily approved!
I had lunch at the club, since I was properly attired. Sat with two other chaps who spoke about changes in commodities trading; competition was keener than ever, but the markets seemed saner somehow.
Decided to walk to the Virgin Megastore and look at used CDs, see what I could find before I started paying money for bits. Getting bits on plastic felt more tangible somehow.
But after a while looking, I consigned myself to online purchase; the long tail and all that.
Stepping outside the store, back on to busy London streets, deciding what to do next...
“Doctor Marsh!” a woman’s voice called.
I turned to see a shorter woman, dark hair, pretty face and smile... I smiled; recognized her from the park on Saturday? “Yes? What can I do for you?”
“I’m Elena -- would you have a few minutes for some questions?”
“Certainly!” I took her arm in mine and started walking down the street. What had Patrick said? “I remember you from the park Saturday -- you’re with the Goldfish?”
She chuckled low and put her other hand on my arm. “Yes, yes indeed... Saturday was something very interesting...”
“Shall we pop in here for a bit of tea, then?” I suggested as we walked past a shop.
She smiled and nodded; I opened the door for her.
She was a pretty little thing. When I’d seen her, she’d been vigorously riding someone...
We were seated in a corner, a spot with some privacy, and ordered our tea.
“Doctor Marsh,” she began,
“Call me Rob, please,” I insisted.
“Thank you, Rob... If I may ask, how do you know my affiliation?”
“A friend told me, after the fact, that I was more popular Saturday than Page 3.”
She chuckled at that, and nodded in agreement.
“And of those attending, only the Goldfish had the sense to send a beautiful young woman.”
She smiled and nodded a little more, showing some color. After a moment she asked, simply, “What are you?”
I took her hands. “I am a Seed of the Chosen. That much I know. I don’t know who, what, why, how, or what comes next. I just don’t know.”
She nodded. “What happened Saturday?”
I smiled but shook my head. “I want to understand the mesh -- how it forms, what it can do, its limits. Do you know my history?”
She nodded, smiling slightly.
I sighed. “Sleeping alone is bad for you. I don’t know -- I can work alone, but I don’t like being alone, if that makes sense. I’d been alone for too long, a number of weeks. I guess the mesh caught my hunger, my feelings. The Spanish girls near me, they responded.” I sighed again. “Later, one of them wanted me so much -- I could feel her hunger. And I wanted her, too, but it wasn’t the right place, or the right time. The hunger in both of us was so intense; I guess the mesh amplified that, or spread it, and it resonated with people. Does that make sense?”
She smiled, nodding more. “Yes... It was very sensual... I’ve never had an experience like that before.”
Our tea arrived.
“I don’t believe many have,” I agreed.
Stirring some sugar into her tea, she looked at me so intently. “What do we do with you?” she whispered.
I touched her other hand again. “Find out who turned me loose! Because I don’t know! Why is all of this?”
We sipped our tea, still holding hands.
“Is the mesh making your homeland ... better?” I asked.
Quick response. “Oh yes... Even on our own side, the petty, no, far more than petty bickering between factions on our own side have all but vanished. Things seem to be resolving themselves, by themselves. It’s wonderful.”
“Good. Then I’m not a plague rat, spreading death.”
She gave me a surprising look. “No, you are not!” She held my hand tighter. “When I last spoke to family, they were amazed -- they had gone four days without hearing gunfire. Four whole days!”
“Let us hope for many, many more,” I told her.
“God willing, yes!”
We talked for a while longer. She had some other questions -- did I know how many Seeds there were? No. Had I met others? Yes, I met one other, on the Gold Coast, but I understand she had been killed. She nodded at that. I’d met a young woman in Amsterdam...
Patrice? Kournukova?
Yes.
I shook my head. I only knew her as Patrice. As far as I’m concerned, we met by accident. She saved my life -- I was very sick at the time, physically and mentally.
And Florida? She asked.
I held both her hands, shaking my head. I don’t know who those bastards were. I managed to sigh. So many questions -- and I didn’t know! I still don’t know! They tried and they tried, and I just didn’t know! I still don’t! I don’t know who did this to me, or why!
And after? She asked.
I frowned and shook my head. Drug wars. Bastards -- they thought I knew more than I did, too. But at least they gave me time to heal. And I managed to get away, to get here.
She nodded, holding my hands.
That bastard in Florida, I told her, he laughed and asked me if I expected him to believe my stories. I don’t care what he believed. That’s what happened. You were in the park Saturday -- do you expect me to believe that?
She smiled and chuckled, nodding.
We finished our tea.
Am I safe? Who do I need to watch for? I asked her.
She shook her head. The Americans, maybe the Chinese. The fiasco Monday -- that was so incredibly bad -- what happened? I shrugged and told her the story, getting lost in the building, stopping to take a leak, getting to the prof’s office late to find it empty. What happened? I still didn’t know.
She looked at me incredulously -- I didn’t know?
Nope, just that the prof wasn’t there, and some folks from the Police and the Home Office grilled me about it this morning.
She laughed and shook her head. The Americans tried to snatch you, she told me.
I sat back in shock. Rat bastards!
She smiled and nodded. But someone else walked into her office, so they got him instead, and when they got to their car, it was surrounded by security.
Oh my... I was smiling. How sad... I frowned. Was she in on it?
She shrugged. Nobody was sure, just that she hadn’t been seen since.
I frowned more. So who was the lucky bloke, and is he all right?
She smiled again. Oh, he’s fine -- the head of her department.
I laughed out loud. I looked up to the heavens for a moment.
I asked her what I should do.
She told me to stay in public areas, and I should be fine.
I got out one of my personal cards, and wrote my cell number on the back. If she had any further questions, please give me a call. And if you have any answers, please call me sooner!
She said she understood. There was one thing, if I didn’t mind.
What?
She pulled a test kit out of her purse, taking out a strip from one side.
I nodded and told her to use my eye, as the tea would mess up samples from my mouth.
We did two, which she put in another section of her little case.
I paid for our tea. She said she’d see me back to my flat.
We took a cab back. She got out with me.
“Thank you so much,” she told me, looking me in the eyes.
“Thank you for asking,” I told her. Then I pulled her into a hug and held her close, breathing her in and squeezing her gently.
When I let go she was smiling even more. She got into the cab again and rode off.
The guy at the gate opened it for me. I nodded to him and walked to the flat. Hope that made some folks jealous!
Selene was edgy when she got home; it had been a rough day at work. We had a nice dinner and I tried my best to take her mind off things. At least she was smiling when she set off for work the next morning.
Around ten Anthony let me know Sir David wished me to meet him for lunch at the Club. Fine -- I’ll shower; set out appropriate attire, but my socks.
Patrick and Sir David at lunch!
“You made a friend yesterday afternoon,” Patrick suggested over drinks.
“She’s pretty. We had a nice chat.”
“And you gave her everything but a fluid sample!” he said with a smirk.
“She’ll have to ask nicer next time -- and I like them fuller on top.”
“We’ve noticed,” he mused.
“And how are you doing?” I asked Sir David.
He smiled. “Well, thank you. Figuring out how to make money in this new world of yours.”
I sighed. “Not my doing...”
We discussed Monday’s adventure, and Tuesday’s follow-ups, morning and afternoon. I reminded Patrick I’d kept him and his colleagues out of the picture, for which he thanked me. He remarked that the prof was in much hot water. I raised my glass to that. How nice.
Sir David asked about “the young lady.”
I sighed and said she was witty, charming, pretty, and quite succulent.
After the chuckling subsided, Patrick added that she was going to be made redundant Friday, along with most of her office.
What, sacked?
He nodded.
With a sigh I told them she’d been uneasy last night.
Sir David told me to hire her as my Personal Assistant -- get Anthony, Nichole, T, or Penny started on it and they’d get it done.
Really?
He gave me a strange look. Yes, really! That solves quite a few problems.
Okay, I may just do that.
Patrick told me I’d be daft if I didn’t, and Sir David nodded his approval.
We talked a bit about the misfortune of the Americans, decried officially of course as rogue action unsanctioned by ... bollocks and everyone knew it, so they were booted out, the higher-ups given a stern talking to over lunch by their British counterparts, and now many of them were being beaten about the head and shoulders after a young Israeli woman walked up to me on the street, took my arm, and I sang to her like a bloody canary!
I looked to Patrick, raised my glass, and told him, “She’s a lot prettier than you, mate!”
Sir David laughed, and Patrick shook his head.
I explained (complained) yet again that I didn’t have anything to bloody tell! I don’t know! Who did it? I don’t know! Why? I don’t know! What’s next? I don’t know! If one of the other bastards offers to buy me a pint, I’ll tell them the same thing! Which is nothing!
Okay, okay -- quiet down, please... Patrick told us there was a group out at Oxford trying to do some research, and maybe I should speak with them next week. That sounded good. Sir David chimed in that he or one of his foundations would happily fund research. I told them I was in a position to kick in a few coins myself.
Back at the flat later, Anthony told me they’d be doing some cleaning tomorrow. Okay, I’ll spend the day at the office, lunch at the club, and we can do dinner out if need be. Oh, they’d be through by early afternoon.
Selene was edgy again, work, but didn’t want to talk about it. We had another nice meal, and retired upstairs. I massaged her feet, then her back, and crawled into bed to hold her. That’s what she needed.
We shared a cab the next morning, dropping her at work, and then going to my “office.”
A large LCD with the needed Apple adapter had arrived, and an external keyboard and mouse! I was all set!
I spent a boring day, going through documents from the Oxford conference and annotating them. I even went back and changed my sarcastic annotations to a more professional tone, clearly and concisely pointing out what I felt were errors.
In the little kitchenette area, a freezer held some frozen meals. I had a chicken tikka masala with rice. It was okay. I remembered to call in and let folks know I was headed back to the flat. Riding on the tube, we passed in and out of the mesh a few times. The first and third were more energetic, the second one was more relaxed. Interesting.
Spoke briefly with Nichole and Anthony when I got back, asking them to kick things off, whatever was needed, so that I could hire Selene as my PA after she was sacked on Friday. They understood, and would take care of it.
The poor girl was upset, so unsure. After dinner I held her and told her things would work out; trust me. But how... What if... How will I... I’ll take care of you, I told her. Will you believe me? The way she held me, so tight, she was trying to believe.
Thursday at the office, I did more of the same, annotating things. Felt good. Got a call from the solicitor after lunch, going over the terms of Miss Hughes’ employment. He’d reviewed matters with Sir David, and they had an offer ready, which would be waiting for me at the flat this afternoon. I thanked him for his assistance.
Then I go a call from Nichole, that Miss Hughes had arrived early, and was upstairs, quite upset! At this time of day, is a cab or the tube quicker? Probably the tube. Okay, let the switchboard know I’m leaving now.
When I got there, Selene was in tears. She expected to be made redundant in the morning. I held her and let her vent.
She wasn’t going to get over it this evening, that was for sure.
I interrupted her, had her wash her face and come back to sit with me.
Don’t look at this as the end of the world, I told her, more the beginning of a new one.
She gave me a very nasty look.
I shook my head. Okay, I deserved that. How would you like to be my personal assistant?
She gave me a strange look.
This is for real, I told her. I took her hands and took her to the library/office downstairs. Nichole brought me the envelope from the solicitors. I opened it and looked at the cover sheet. I handed the package to Selene.
Her expression changed as she looked it over, from end-of-the-world to astonishment by page three. Holding the pages in her right hand, she grabbed me and held me again. Felt different this time.
“This is real,” she said, looking at me, and the papers in her hand.
I nodded. “You’ll be working for the same firm as I do, as my P.A. I would prefer that you live with me. Start immediately, but I have a suggestion.”
She nodded, more relaxed now. “This is amazing.”
“What do you expect is going to happen tomorrow?” I asked.
She took a breath. It was still hard. “From what we’ve heard, there will be a meeting first thing, notifying those that are being made redundant, which is most of us. The usual company policy is to immediately clean out offices and leave the premises. I ...” she took a deep breath. “I should be out by ten at the latest.”
I nodded. “What I suggest, then, if you are made redundant tomorrow, oh, do you have accrued holiday time to use up?”
She nodded, thinking. “Sixty or so hours, I believe.”
“Then what I suggest, again if you’re made redundant, is that we go out to the estate for a few days, so you can decompress. And if you’re not made redundant, I suggest giving your notice, and that we go out to the estate for a few days. You can contemplate your new offer, and accept when you are ready.”
She smiled and held my hands. “I’d be a fool not to accept.”
I smiled. “I might have some very bad habits...”
She smirked. “You don’t snore. Anything else I can deal with.”
“I’m going to enjoy working with you,” I told her.
She hugged me again, dropping the papers.
We had champagne with dinner. Upstairs after dinner, she was excited but exhausted, no longer looking at the end of the world. I cheated -- I used my hands to wipe her out, holding her and making them flare, holding on as she shook and collapsed.
Didn’t know what to expect the next morning. She was subdued, but I could see a bit of a smile, that and determination. Anthony gave me a note, letting me know a car would be ready at nine in the morning to take us to the estate, and that they were looking forward to having us.
I saw Selene off; I’d be waiting for her and asked her to please call and let me know.
She called a little after nine, a quick call, just, “I accept. See you in a few.”
As I sighed and put my phone back in my pocket, I glanced over to see Anthony standing in the doorway, hands behind his back.
“The car is ready when you are, Sir. We’ve packed for you and Miss Hughes.”
“Thank you, Anthony -- thank you very much.”
Selene swept into the flat half an hour later. We hugged in silence, then kissed.
“Visit the loo, and we’ll go,” I whispered to her.
She nodded silently. A few minutes later, we were on our way out of London.
End of Part 6
Rev 2009/01/11
Vector (Chosen) Phase 6
By silli_artie@hotmail.com
http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/artie/www