Theo's Thesis 3

And finally.... THEO'S THESIS!!! 

If you have no idea what I am talking about, then I apologize for putting section 3 up so late, and you can go here for previous sections; newest sections on top, oldest on the bottom. Enjoy!

Aaron settled down in the corner of the office and tapped a beat on the floor with his foot. When he tired of this, he counted the cracks in the wall. It was then that his eyes lighted upon a car magazine, which was soon on his lap and remained there for a while.

Theo, in the meantime, was oblivious to Aaron's irritated noise-making, for he had discovered another problem with his data. Although the papers by Dr. Collins were continually consistent, they ran in direct opposition to those of one of the Doctor's colleagues. To be sure, Dr. Leia Martin was not well-known and her works were hard to find, but nevertheless, they explicitly explained the experimental process Martin had used to reach her conclusion, and it was a reasonable process....

Who was right? Theo could only figure out by running an experiment himself, and as it was ,he was already behind schedule. He considered accepting Dr. Collins' work and getting on with his own work, but his conscience forbade it. He wanted the truth.

His computer beeped at him, and he checked his inbox eagerly. There was an email from his former advisor, in response to Theo's questions.

“Theo Quasar, I was surprised to get your note. As far as I know, the papers by Dr. Arlen B. Collins are completely trustworthy. Dr. Collins himself is a widely renowned biologist, whose works are popular reading assignments for biology students in universities across the country....”

The rest of the email was a blur before Theo's eyes. Dr. Collins had to be right. His work was accurate. But what if it wasn't?

“Theo?” Aaron piped up, putting aside the car magazine with a sigh. “I'm trying to be quiet, but don't you think we should get dinner now? I'm really hungry!”

Theo glanced at the clock and smiled. “I guess now is about as good a time as any to start eating. I forgot about dinner, actually.”

“Forgot...dinner?” Aaron repeated in disbelief. “How could anyone forget dinner?”

“I suppose it is a very hard thing to comprehend when you're ten,” Theo laughed. “What do you want to eat?”

“Hamburgers!” Aaron jumped up and down.

“We can probably find a few at the restaurant down the street. Let me just pack up my work.” Theo shoved several papers into his back-pack and put his laptop to sleep.

“My dad doesn't have a back-pack. He has a briefcase. I think mom bought him the briefcase because it matched his shoes or something, and she hid his back-pack away. Dad doesn't know, but I found it in the corner of the coat closet, up on one of the shelves,” Aaron laughed.

“Ah, but a back-pack can hold so much more,” Theo said. He pulled his coat out of it and put it on. Aaron looked at him skeptically.

“Isn't that what a coat hangar's for?”

“Why bother? My backpack works just as well.”

“No, it wrinkles things,” Aaron said.

“That's why I carry an iron,” Theo said, whipping an iron out of his backpack. 

 

Theo flopped down on his bed, his stomach hurting from the greasy hamburger he had consumed for dinner. He was used to nice bland food, like peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. He was just beginning to consider his work again when Aaron called from the living room.

“Theo! What time is it?” Aaron asked, looking small as he lay beneath a sea of red race cars dotting his comforter.

“It's only 10. Why?”

“What time is it Florida?”

“I don't know.”

“Theo, I miss mom and dad. Do you think they'll call?”

“I expect so. Try to get some sleep. I have to bring you into school tomorrow.” Theo went back into his bedroom and lay down again. But this time, he wasn't contemplating his work....

The door had been left ajar, and through the crack, Theo could see the light of the hall shifting in. He rolled over onto his stomach and stared out the window at the beautiful, starry sky. The dark, grey clouds were swirling like ghosts around a bright, silvery moon, and he was sure that one of the ghostly forms was that of a ship, sailing on a sea.

A loud noise from downstairs startled him and he sat up in bed to listen. It was his parents arguing. The arguments had grown more regular lately. It had started from an occasional thing and gradually become a weekly occurrence. Now, he could hear them every night when they thought he was asleep. He covered his ears to drown out the noise and felt a hot tear stream down his face. He tried desperately to swallow back his tears, but they kept on coming. He was angry with himself, for at ten years old, he was almost a man, and men don't cry.

Even though it was no surprise to him when his parents announced their divorce the next day, the news didn't hurt any less. He loved his parents and he could remember when they had been happy together. He could see the Christmas tree all lighted up, and his mom and dad laughing together as he tore open his presents eagerly.

It hurt still more when his dad left a week later, never to return. Their home would never be the same, and the last thing Theo heard about his dad was that he had a girlfriend and had moved to California.

“Mom, what time is it in California?”

“I don't know,” mom said, although Theo could tell that the real reason for her answer was that she didn't want to know.

“I wish dad was here. Do you think he'll call?”

“I wouldn't count on it.”

(C) Copyright Curious Cognitive Content (CCC) - March 17, 2011

Theo's Thesis 2

If you have no idea what is going on in this story, asking me will benefit you in no way, because I do not know either. You can, however, check out part 1 if it makes you feel better.

It was Aaron who opened the door and bounded into Theo's office, closely followed by Steve. Theo noted at once that they didn't bear resemblance to each other in any way. Steve was on the heavier side and had short, sandy hair and glasses. Aaron was extremely energetic, and his every movement caused his brown hair to tumble into his eyes.

“Uh, Theo, this is Aaron,” Steve said.

“Hi!” Aaron smiled widely. “I'm ten. How old are you? You know, your office is really boring. It could use more posters. Maybe a few posters of hamburgers, Star Trek, and race cars. I really like race cars. Do you?”

“Haha,” Steve laughed unconvincingly. “Aaron likes to talk.”

“So I see,” Theo said. “Did you find your flight?”

“Yes. We can leave in an hour,” Steve replied. “I brought some of Aaron's things with me; they're in the car.”

“Ah, yes, of course,” Theo said. “I can follow you outside and we can transfer them to my car, unless you want to drop them off at my house.”

“Which ever works for you,” Steve shrugged.

“I was thinking of working for a little bit longer, so maybe if you put them in my car it will work best.”

“Fine,” Steve said. Theo and Aaron followed him out into the hall.

“I brought my comforter with me, the one with all of the race cars on it, though you know, most of those cars look pretty lame. If I was a race car driver, I would drive a cool car. You know, one with -”

“Yes, Aaron,” Steve interrupted.

“Dad, did you remember to pack my Star Trek movies? Not the fifth one; I really don't like that one because it's too confusing and lame, but I'm going to want some of them with me if I'm going to be stuck with a boring grad-student all day.”

“Aaron!” Steve exclaimed, turning red with embarrassment.

“You're right,” Theo said. “I am an extremely boring person. You'll need more than just Star Trek to help bear the tedium.” He grinned at Steve encouragingly.

“Now look, Aaron,” Steve said sternly, “while I'm gone, you must remember to be polite. I'm going to be calling Theo to make sure you're being good.”

“Yes, dad,” Aaron said humbly.

When they reached outside, the sun was already beginning to set. The sky was pale blue with a pink glow by the sinking sun. The sun itself shone golden, glinting off of cars in the parking lot. The air was growing chilly, so Steve and Theo worked quickly to transfer Aaron's things into Theo's car. By the time they had finished, the sky was growing dark, and a thin band of color with a rainbow gradient was all that was left of the sunset. Already, the planet Jupiter and several of the brighter stars were becoming visible nearby a full, yellow moon.

“Now Aaron, don't talk off Theo's ears,” Steve reminded his son. “Theo is very busy working on his thesis, just like I am at home.”

“Yes, dad. I know,” Aaron said. “When will you come back?”

“As soon as I can,” Steve said. He hugged Aaron tightly, and squeezed Theo's arm. “Thanks again, Theo! I'll call you when I land in Florida and better know the state of things.”

“Right. Have a safe trip.”

“Thanks.”

Aaron was silent as he watched his father pull away, but he smiled up at Theo as soon as the car was out of sight, and eagerly inquired about dinner.

“I really like hamburgers, but I'll eat just about anything, so if you want Chinese food or something, I'm ok with that too.”

“How kind of you,” Theo commented sarcastically as they entered the building again. “I hope you don't mind waiting a little bit, though, because I'm trying to finish up a few things before I go.”

“Oh, that's ok,” Aaron said. “Do you have a computer I can use? I like looking up race cars and things online. My dad set up a racing simulator on our computer at home, and I like seeing if I can beat the other drivers in the simulator. Of course the other drivers are just computer-generated, but -”

“I'm afraid I don't have any extra computers,” Theo admitted.

“Shucks!” Aaron exclaimed. “This is turning out worse than I thought it would!”

(C) Copyright Curious Cognitive Content (CCC) - November 2010

Theo's Thesis 1

 I promised you that if I finished my story for NaNo WriMo this year, I would consider posting it here. Sadly, I did not get that far in my story, and left off at something like 7,000 words, but I decided to post the beginning of it anyways, and maybe that will motivate me to finish it....

Anyhow, here is part 1. Since it is a first draft I am afraid that some of it may not be parsed right, or have simple errors that need editing and/or research, so any comments or constructive criticism you would like to offer will be greatly appreciated. Nonetheless, I hope you enjoy it!

The sunlight filtered in through the shade in the window, creating linear shadows across Theo's desk. He was poring over an article for the third time, trying to comprehend the meaning of the information written in it. He sighed and ran his fingers through his dark, wavy hair. There was a slight tap at the door, and Theo looked up to see his friend Mark at the door.

“Hi, Theo! Mind if I come in?” the young man asked, walking into the small room without waiting for an answer.

“Oh, hullo, Mark! What is it?” Theo began to put his pen down, but it dropped from his hand and fell on the floor.

Mark grinned. “You've been studying again, haven't you?”

“Uh, yes,” Theo said. “How can you tell?”

“You always get clumsy when your mind is on other things,” Mark replied. He reached down to pick up Theo's pen, and stood up quickly with a grimace on his face and a half-eaten sandwich in his hand.

“Oh, sorry,” Theo laughed, taking the sandwich from Mark. It slipped through his fingers and fell to the floor again, the peanut butter and jelly spilling out.

Mark shook his head hopelessly. “Theo, are you alright?”

“Um, yeah, why wouldn't I be?” Theo asked.

“You've been acting more and more...distant lately. Me and the guys tried calling you five times last night, and you never picked up the phone,” Mark said.

“I was out grocery shopping and I forgot to take my phone with me.”

“Look, I can believe that you were busy. I can even believe that you were out shopping at 11:00 at night. But seriously, it feels like you're avoiding us, because it hasn't just been an occasional night – it's been every night for the past 365 days! Or is it months by now?” Mark sighed.

“Mark,” Theo said, looking at him pityingly. “You know how much I love hanging out with you and the guys. We've always been best friends, haven't we?”

“Or used to,” Mark said sullenly.

“Nothing's changed – on my part,” Theo said. “I've just been so busy, that-”

“Busy with what, Theo?” Mark asked. “I know you're working on your doctorate, but heck, Theo, we all are! Steve and Paul are both in mathematics, and I'm going for English literature. Can biology be all that different?”

Theo looked at him strangely. “Biology is very different from English literature.”

“Theo!” Mark was perplexed. “You missed the point entirely! If the rest of us can juggle a doctorate and still have a life on the side, so can you, right? Get a life, Theo!”

Theo sighed and ran his finger along the edge of one of his books. For a little while, he was quiet, staring at the floor. “I'm trying Mark,” he said at last. “This paper is turning out much harder than anything I ever anticipated.”

Mark was about to retort, but he caught something in Theo's voice that made him stop and bite his tongue. He looked up sharply and studied Theo's pale face.

“Come on, Theo,” he said, “You didn't expect your thesis to be easy, did you?”

Theo shrugged. “Easier,” he said. He sighed and pulled his laptop open for Mark to read the email that had just arrived.

“Your advisor's retiring?” Mark asked incredulously.

“He's been battling cancer ever since last fall,” Theo explained. “I guess he decided that he just couldn't go on with his work.”

“But Theo, you'll have to get a new advisor right while you're in the middle of your work!” Mark protested.

“I know that,” Theo said. “Now you know part of what's been bothering me.”

“I'm sorry,” Mark sighed. He put his hand on Theo's shoulder. “Let me know how things turn out, ok? And if me or the guys can do anything to help you out, just shoot us an email or call us up. It would be good to know every once in a while that you're still alive.”

“Oh, I wouldn't worry,” Theo grinned. “If you don't see my obituary in the newspaper, then you'll know I'm still breathing.”

He watched Mark leave the room, then turned back to his work, a frown settling in his forehead.

Steve was cheerfully contemplating his next paragraph. He was explaining the Galileo-Einstein field equation, and was was feeling quite pleased with the results. He took a huge bite out of his donut and bemoaned the fact that it was too small. His large coffee cup was empty, too. Maybe it was time to stop by the cafe again. He heaved himself out of his chair and picked up his jacket.

Alpha Cafe was a newly established coffee shop only two blocks away from Steve's office. The front of the shop had huge windows with short, green curtains, and a huge sign that read, “our pi is beta than most!” Best of all, it served fresh donuts and coffee daily.

Steve stepped inside the cafe and breathed the smells in deeply. He studied the different kinds of donuts before finally deciding on the biggest, a giant chocolate one with vanilla frosting. He took a large bite out of it and was just beginning to chew when his phone rang loudly. Several customers eyed him with annoyance as he rummaged through his pockets, searching for it.

“Hi,” he said, flipping it open quickly the moment he held it in his hands.

“Steve?” a worried voice said at the other end.

“Angie! What's wrong?” Steve asked, stuffing the rest of his donut into his pocket, and walking rapidly to where he had parked his car.

“Look, I just received a call from your parents. Your Grampa has been taken to the hospital, and they're not sure what's wrong with him. They want us to fly down as soon as we can,” Angie said, her voice breaking as she spoke.

“I'm on my way home right this moment. Don't worry, honey! You start looking up flights to Florida.”

“But, Steve,” Angie said, “Who will watch Aaron? We can't possibly take him with us!”

“We can...uh.... Aaron's growing up. He'll be alright,” Steve stammered.

“He'll be alright, maybe, but he won't be happy. And at any rate, he's still in school.... Oh, Steve, it won't work!”

Steve sighed audibly. “I'll be there as soon as I can, honey. Meanwhile, I'll start thinking about who we can get to babysit....”

The door slammed open so hard that a poster fell off the wall. Theo looked up in amazement as Steve burst into the room.

“What on Earth...?”

“Theo!” Steve exclaimed. “I was hoping I'd find you here!”

“I'm here. What's going on?” Theo asked, watching him with wary eyes.

“Oh, Theo, I'm at my wits end!” Steve said. “Look, can you do me a favor?”

“Um, I don't know.”

“My grandfather's in the ICU down in Florida, and we have no idea what's going on with him. Me and Angie have to fly down as soon as possible, and we need someone to watch Aaron for us. Please, Theo!” Steve begged as he saw Theo begin to shake his head. “I've called Mark and Paul, and I can't get a hold of either of them. You're the only one I can get right now!”

“Steve, I don't know how to take care of children!” Theo protested. “I wish I could help you out, but-”

“Come on, Theo! You're my last hope!”

Theo sighed and studied his pen thoughtfully. “How long would I have to watch him?”

“Two days maybe? I won't really know until I get down there,” Steve replied regretfully. “Look, I'll call you when I get to Florida, and if it will be longer than two days, I'm sure I can arrange for someone else to watch him. Please?”

“Ok,” Theo shrugged. “I'll watch Aaron for you for a little while – but just until you can find someone else.”

“Oh, thanks a million, Theo!” Steve exclaimed, shaking his friend's hand hardily. “I'll drop Aaron off, and oh! You'll need my phone number!”

“Steve, I have your phone number!”

“Oh, uh, right,” Steve said, acting flustered. “Um, just call me if you have any questions, ok?” Steve turned to leave the room, but stopped at the door as Theo called him back. “Something wrong?”

“No, I'm just.... I'm sorry about your grandfather. I hope everything turns out alright.”

“Thanks, Theo,” Steve smiled. He closed the door quietly behind him.

“Now what have I done?” Theo put his head in his hands and tried think clearly. His mind could now longer comprehend the papers before him (if it ever could). Instead of meditating on the delicate process of RNA copying DNA, he found himself wondering how in the world he was to care for a 10-year-old in the midst of his mounting concerns about his data....

(C) Copyright Curious Cognitive Content (CCC) - November 2010

Science fiction story (of sorts)

My posts have been awfully silly lately, but I hope that will change as I start school again and become more serious. In the meantime, here is another silly post to grace the first page of my blog....

~~~

“Hullo, Peter!” Frank came in cheerfully.
“Oh, there you are, Frank! What have you been doing all morning?” Peter put aside his tools and looked up expectantly.
“I wrote a story!”
“That's nice.”
“I hope it will be a best-seller someday.”
“Really? You have to have a big audience, then.”
“Yeah; I'm a little afraid it won't sell that well. It's a science fiction book, you see, and only Greeks read those nowadays.”
“Greeks?” Peter asked.
“Yes. Listen to this first part:
“When that spaceship first flew through space like a bird that takes to its wings and soars on the wind, many were the number of men who gazed upon it with wondrous awe. In particular was one, Jean Marcus, son of Paul Marcus, renowned for his piloting skills. So great was the legend of Paul Marcus that men held him long after his passing as the leader among pilots.”
“But Frank -” Peter protested.
“Wait! There's more:
“Jean Marcus knew the longing to follow after his father, and ever he pursued it as a fox that hungers will search on and on for food until at last he finds it. On that day as he saw the spaceship pass overhead, gradually fading into space as a twinkling star will fade in the morning when night has passed, he finally made his decision.
“'O Tyler, thou engineer, so skilled in the making of metal works, and unsurpassed in your understanding of mathematical equations, which some say the very universe is composed of; O Tyler, thou ever present friend, I have determined something.' Thus said Jean to his dearest friend, Tyler.
“'Ah, Jean, what is this -'”
“Hold on a moment, what sort of story is this?”
“I just told you! Hang on:
“'Ah, Jean, what is this strong determination of which thou speak so forcefully?'At these words, Jean expressed his desire, and even as he spoke, the tears came to his eyes as dew drops that fall on the rose petal, 'O Tyler, mine ever faithful friend, my determination is thus so firmly set that naught could move me to remain. If not for the sorrow I feel I may cause you at my going, I should have left long ere now. I shall away to that vast sea of space, that black sky that knows not mere clouds, but gaseous nebulae and great galaxies. Ah, Tyler! I shall sail in a space ship and follow after my father's steps, till I may even hope to rival him in his skill. And finally, I shall avenge his death that he died at the hands of our fierce-some foe!'”
“But Frank -”
“What?” Frank said, giving in with a sigh.
“Don't you mean geeks, not Greeks?”
“Uh.... It's, um....” Frank appeared flustered.
“Don't worry,” Peter said with a laugh, “I'm sure it will sell for it's originality. After all, I've never heard of a sci-fi story written in Greek prose before....”

(c) Copyright August 24, 2010 - Curious Cognitive Content

Lost memory continued

I awoke one morning to find the streets and trees outside simply covered in light, fluffy snow. It was about time, I mused. The calendar had been reading December for quite a few days now. I hastily turned the radio to the news station, and grinned with glee as it listed off my school as being closed for a snow day.
This was going to be a great day, I thought. I went into the kitchen to find mom sitting at the table.
"Hi, mom!" I said cheerfully. "School's closed for today!"
"And no wonder," mom said, "We got 4 inches of snow last night, and more coming. The rate at which the snow is falling is amazing!"
"Indeed," I said, half-listening. I was already planning my day. I would read a couple books online, build a snow fort - maybe even work on a Christmas list.
"Oh, Jeremy," dad said entering the room. "You have the day off from school, right?"
"Yeah," I said.
"Could you shovel the driveway sometime today?" Dad's words shattered my plans.
"Shovel?" I gulped. "But couldn't you just get a plough to do it?"
"Well, we could but -" Dad hesitated. "In case you haven't noticed, the economy's been bad. We need to save money wherever we can, and $50 for a plough job is kind of expensive. Besides, it will be good exercise for you."
"Yeah, I guess so," I replied in flat monotone. But why was I so downcast? After all, shoveling would only take part of the morning.
I sighed, and quickly gobbled down breakfast. If the driveway had to be done, then it better be done as soon as possible. I grabbed for my hat and coat, and pulled on my mittens and boots, still wet from yesterday's trample in the slush.
I took one step outside, and breathed in the fresh, cold air. The snow looked so light and fluffy. I saw the tip of the mailbox peeping out of the snow bank at the end of the driveway. Just shovel to the mailbox, I told myself. It will be done in minutes.
I was halfway through the job when one of my classmates, Sarah, came running down the side walk. She made a sudden turn into our driveway, and gasped out, breathless,
"The school gymnasium on fire!"
"What?" I cried, dropping my shovel. The gymnasium was the new attachment to the school, and everyone was proud of it. The school had even worked up some small debt somewhere in order to have it made. If it burned down -
"There was some malfunction with the furnace," Sarah continued. "I overheard one of the firemen talking about it with the principal!"
"So there's firemen there; that's good," I said with relief.
"Yeah, well they aren't having too much success though," Sarah added glumly. "The wind is spreading it fast."
"What? No. This is winter; there's snow everywhere. I mean, fire's are supposed to be dangerous in droughts, right? Not in the middle of a blizzard!"
"Jeremy!" Sarah said in annoyance. "Outside maybe wet, but the inside of the building, where the malfunction first occurred, is still dry."
"Oh, true. So the fire is spreading inside the building, and the firemen can't put it out," I said.
"Oh, you're hopeless!" Sarah rolled her eyes. "Come and see for yourself!"
I propped the shovel up on the side of the house and followed Sarah to the site of the fire. There was a large crowd there already, and everyone in it was pushing and shoving and yelling. I could barely see the building. I heard one loud cry from the hundreds of people around me, some who could see the fire, and others that just took up the cry anyways, and gathered from it that the building was collasping. A loud crash affirmed my theory, and the sound of several police whistles indicated that they were trying to keep the crowd in order.
I turned away sadly; the beautiful new building, the pride of the school campus, was gone, and there was no chance of rebuilding it for a while. There was nothing more to see. I dragged my feet on the way home.
"Mom!" I called as I entered the house.
"Hush, Jeremy! I'm watching the news! Did you realise that the school gymnasium is burning down?" Mom said. Her hands were visibly trembling as she tensed herself before the TV. I sighed and shook my head sadly.
What more could I do?

A week later, as I came out of my math class, still dwelling on thoughts of sines and cosines, Sarah came running to meet me again. She like to run, I noticed, being a very nervous sort of girl, and needing an outlet for her energy.
"Jeremy!" she cried. "Did you hear the news?"
"What now?" I asked, grinning. "Is another building burning down?"
"Jeremy, that's not even funny!" Sarah pouted.
"I'm sorry. What is it?"
"The school's selling it's large collection of books in the library to the museum!"
"Why?" I laughed. Of course this was some joke.
"Because hardly everyone reads books any more, and almost all the books you can find online, and the books contain a certain amount of lead that is harmful to children, and by selling them to the museum, the school will raise enough money to effectively repair the walls damaged in the fire," Sarah stopped for a breath.
"Wait! Wait a second!" I held up my hands and laughed. "The school is going to rebuild the gymnasium based on the sale of a few books?"
"Rebuild the gym? Are you kidding? Of course not! But they're not selling some of the books; they're selling all of the books."
"What? No. This is the kind of crisis that only happens in books."
"But this is a book!"
"No, this is only a section of a story on a blog!"
"But Jeremy! Anything can happen in a story! Especially one about some kids in a public school, written by someone who's never been inside a public school!"
"Are you indicating that the authoress is one of those homeschoolers?" I gulped in dread. Anything could happen in a story written by a homeschooler. Yes, things were beginning to look grave. "Couldn't we try and tell her that schools are supported by taxes, and that they don't just sell their books like that, completely demolishing their libraries?"
"But we're nobodies! Only characters from some weird story she decided to write!"
"Then maybe we should stop arguing and try to please her, lest she make more horrible things happen. I'm already stuck with a memory problem," I said, trying to calm Sarah down.
"A memory problem?"
"It's complicated. Don't bother," I said in an undertone. "Now then, where were we?"
"The school is selling all its books in order to repair the wall and fix the furnaces so that the students will be warm during the cold winter while they're in classes, and -"
"Okay! Okay, so now we have to figure out what to do."
"We could sell popcorn to raise money for the school, so they wouldn't have to sell any books," Sarah suggested.
"Popcorn?" I made a face. "That will make us just rich!"
"You think so?" Sarah's face lit up. She didn't understand sarcasm.
"Um, well, maybe we could instead put on a play, you know?" I said hurriedly. I don't know why the word "play" came to mind, since I'm not an actor by any stretch. But somehow, this plan excited Sarah, and she was bouncing all around me with delight.
"Amy!" She called to a girl halfway across the campus. "Come quick! Jeremy's got the most wonderful idea to raise money!"
Amy came running, and so did half the school. Sarah explained the plan to them, with several (meaning here a couple dozen) of her own additions. The students all agreed to the plan with great enthusiasm, and thus began the evolution of a play....

To be continued in another section.....

Lost memory

I banged my head against the wall in despair. I had done it again. I had messed up everything....
I rubbed my sore head as I gazed out the window at the floating snow. It looked so fresh and white and clean in brilliant contrast to the deep green of the pine trees. I stared at the pretty scene with a smile slowly curving my lips. No! I cried inside of myself. I must not get distracted!
I tried to focus back on my problems. After all, I had done it again.
Done what again?
I rubbed my head slightly confused. That whack from the wall had driven the memory straight from my brain!
I gasped in dismay. Who was I? Where was I? Why was I here?
A tall young woman entered the room and said, "Jeremy, what is this I see?" she held up a slip of paper, her eyes narrowing into slits with anger.
"I don't remember," I choked. Was my name Jeremy?
"Don't remember?" the woman said sarcastically. "You're not going to get out of this that easily!"
"But really! I have amnesia!" I don't know how that word managed to stick in my mind, but it did. Perhaps my memory was returning?
"Amnesia!" the young woman said sharply. "Cut it out! I'm being serious!"
"So am I! I don't even know who you are!" I persisted.
"Jeremy Greg Flipper!" the young woman said sternly, her hands on her hips.
"Oh, hello, Jeremy," I said politely.
"What?" the woman's face was slightly confused. She couldn't tell if I was mocking her or not.
"Sorry, I thought that's what you said your name was," I confessed. I gulped hard. The woman was very angry now. She opened her mouth to scold me, but changed her mind and left the room in stormy silence.
Uh, oh. What should I do now? I was stuck here, completely unable to recall any scrap of information, except for the name of the disease I had. Or was it a disease? I couldn't remember.
I wandered around the room, and felt the couch, the shelves, and everything, trying to remember them. I flopped on the couch at last, stretching my long frame across the cushions, and shook my head in dismay. Nothing was returning to my mind. I groaned, and closed my eyes.
The next thing I knew, I was just waking up from a long, refreshing sleep. I sat up and yawned. It was then that I became aware of a shadowy figure in the doorway of the room. It was the shape of a man; a man who was staring intently at me. I rubbed my eyes and he became clearer. It was very dark, and I knew that it was after dinner, because the faint scent of meatloaf still lingered in the air.
"What do you want?" I asked the man in the shaky voice of one just awoken.
"Jeremy, I heard you were giving your mom some trouble earlier," the man said, coming into the room and sitting beside me on the couch.
"She's my mom, then," I said softly to myself. The man overheard me, and I saw his eyes glaring in annoyance.
"Of course she's your mom; who else would she be?" he said sarcastically. Sarcasm. The woman - mom - had that problem too. They must be related.
"Who are you?" I asked curiously.
"What?" the man said in surprise.
"I knew your name once; what is it?"
"Jeremy Greg Flipper!" the man said sternly.
"No, that's mom's name," I said and then stopped. Why had they both said that name? It must be of importance.
The man was furious now. "Look! We just want to know why your grades when down on your school record! Why do you have to act so stupid?"
"Because I am stupid?" I asked hopefully.
The man stood up and looked at me. He opened his mouth to yell, but changed his mind, and stormed out of the room in angry silence.
Great! I was doing just great! Sarcasm, I realised with a start. I must be related to the two strangers here. One was called mom, and the other - dad? That sounded right, I reasoned.

I slept on the couch that night. When I awoke, light was streaming through the window. My head was aching dreadfully. I rolled off the couch and stood up slowly, rubbing my eyes. It was to my undoing. I couldn't see where I was going, and walked right into the wall, banging my head pretty hard. The amazing thing happened; I could remember things!
I stood stunned for a moment, before deciding to try an experiment. If I banged my head again, would the memory leave it? I banged the side of my head against the wall. Nothing happened. Maybe I didn't bang it right. I banged my forehead against the wall. I was plunged once more into a haze in which only the most recent occurrence was remember-able.
Then I banged my head again and remembered everything. What was going on?
I reached up timidly to my forehead, and pressed hard against it with my hand. Poof! went my memory. So I didn't have to go banging it all the time; that was useful to know. Hopefully I could remember that when my memory was gone. I pressed my memory back into my head and chuckled to myself. I must be dreaming.
I sat down at the breakfast table to eat. Mom and dad were already there, eating in stony silence. I grinned cheerfully at them, and tried explaining my discovery, but they only stared blankly at me. At last mom said,
"Jeremy, really! You're too old for these games!"
That shut me up for the rest of the meal. I was too old for those sorts of games. But what happens when "those sorts of games" become reality? I needed to think things over.

School went just as it always did. I sat down in my history class and stared at the test before me. It was full of hard names and dates. I pressed twice on my forehead, once to erase my memory, and twice to make it all return to its strongest capacity. I A-ced the test.
No one would believe me when I tried to tell them about it, and so I didn't bother telling them any more.
A couple weeks passed and I was able to discover more about my hidden ability. When I erased my memory and brought it back within seconds, my memory was always stronger than before. While in my state of no-memory, I could remember the last phrase, or action done before I was plunged in the state. It was thus that I could remember how to bring back my memory.
If I failed to bring my memory back after erasing it for more than five minutes, I forgot how to bring it back, and would go thrashing in the difficulty of a lost memory until I accidently banged my head, or pressed my forehead in my hands.
It was tricky, but I was getting used to it.

To be continued in another section.....

P.S. No, it is not your imagination; this story is the corniest I've done yet. But as always, it results from overloading my brain with school.... :P

Time....... (Part 18)

My deepest apologies for all those imaginary persons who have long since lost interest in this story, for taking so long to post this. :)
Other previous sections can be seen here.

Frank watched the computer screen closely. No one had passed through the doors leading outside or inside. He could see the swarm of red dots moving this way and that in preparation for the expected attack, and they reminded him of bees in a beehive.
He tapped his fingers on the keyboard impatiently, and gasped in alarm as the screen he had been observing changed suddenly.
"Oh, bother it all! I've lost the correct window! Now how do I get back to it?" Frank groaned. He investigated the screen and saw that he had put on the setting that looked for UMO's. Curiously, he searched the fort for the blue dots and found two of them. He had recently received a number of his own, so he knew that he could not excuse one of the dots as being himself.
The dots were located on the North wall, he noted, and were swiftly making their way along to the West wall. He knew there was an entrance there. No doubt these blue dots were intruders, either people or robots, sent by the Nagars, and were probably the ones responsible for the weakening of the wall.
He had to contact the leader quickly, before the UMOs could escape. He hastily set the signaller he had been given to on and told his message quickly.
"Leader? This is Liftun speaking. Two UMO's spotted North wall making for West wall. Moving fast. Over."
"This is your leader. We read you. Will send men to investigate. Stand by. Over."
Frank took a deep breath to calm his shaking knees. Perhaps he was finally doing something to help the fort. Maybe the leader would think better of him after this. He hoped so.
Five minutes had passed when he heard a noise at the gate. Fromere entered the ITC in a hurry, and came over to the computer.
"How is it going, Liftun?"
"Good, sir," Frank replied.
"Is that a 'polite good' or a' sincere good'?"
"Um, I think it's more a polite one," Frank sighed.
"That's what I thought. You're looking green," Fromere said. "What's the trouble?"
"I think I messed up the computer. I'm not sure how to get it out of the UMO setting."
"Oh, here. Just press that button, see?" Fromere went to press the button he indicated but paused and stared at the screen. "Those are the two UMOs you warned us about?"
"Yes, sir. Why? They aren't anything important?"
"Important! I'll say it's important! They're using a passageway I didn't even know existed!"
"But it's right here on the computer. I don't see how-"
"It's on here now. It wasn't before. I've got to contact the leader right away!" Fromere grabbed the microphone and began talking furiously into it. Frank couldn't catch all he said. When the conversation had ended, Fromere turned to Frank.
"The leader's sent men to locate the area shown on the computer. He's coming up here himself to see."
"I don't get it. Why is this important? So there's an extra tunnel. And there's two foreign objects in it. And it's right under the North wall that was recently mysteriously weakened," Frank said thoughtfully. "Do you think it's all connected?"
"Do I think it's -! Oh, bother, Liftun! One minute you're a genius and the next, an idiot! Of course it's connected!" Fromere choked.
Frank looked down at his feet. Why were people so hyper here?

Peter sighed in dismay. The whole plan of escape - ruined. And they might never have another chance. He looked at Kevin, standing beside him.
"Have you come up with anything?" he asked quietly.
"Yes, I - think so," Kevin said slowly. "Look, we can go along with the Scallions and try to get out at, like, a red light, or something and -"
"What if they don't stop at any red lights?"
"Then we keep on with them till they do stop. Then we can slip away while they're busy and no one will notice."
"But, wait! The machine! What will we do with the machine? We can't bring it along, and we can't go back for it, because by the time we walk all the way back to the hideout, the robbers will be done and returning. Then we're right back where we were, only possibly in a worse position."
"True...." Kevin said thoughtfully. "You live in NYC, don't you?"
"I used to. I'm not sure were I 'live' at the moment."
"Well, aren't there any means of transportation we can hire for a quick return?"
"Hitch-hiking," Peter suggested. "It won't cost us a thing, which is good because we don't have any money on hand. We can ask someone to take us to the -" Peter paused to think, "the gas station on Higher Street. It's a little street that's more like an alley than anything else, and isn't in the best of environment, you know, sketchy neighbourhood. But it's not much better here, and the gas station is only about 1 mile from here," Peter figured quickly.
"Wait! How do you know this neighbourhood so well?" Kevin interjected.
"I took note of it when me and Henry picked up the machine from the jail. Now we just have to climb in the trucks and act normal, okay?"
"You mean normally crooked," Kevin clarified.
"Yes," Peter grinned. He saw Henry watching him out of the corner of his eye. "He won't stop looking at me," Peter sighed.
"Do you think he's suspicious?" Kevin asked softly. Their conversation had not been overheard due to the commotion the robbers were making as they loaded and boarded the trucks. Nevertheless, Kevin suddenly felt the need to be more careful.
Peter shrugged in answer to his friend's question, and began walking bravely towards one of the trucks. Kevin followed him at a slight distance.
"Hey, youngster!" Henry clapped Peter's shoulder.
"Hi."
"Ya still feeling sick?"
"I'm feeling better, thanks."
"Ah, very good, very good." Henry looked pleased. "What were ya talking about with that other boy; what was 'is name again?"
"Kevin?"
"Ah, ya. Kevin. Ya looked intense."
"I'm just a little nervous. You know, first big robbery and all," Peter said casually.
"Ha, ya'll get over it!" Henry said in his booming voice. "Ya better climb on now. It would be bad to get left behind!"
"Indeed," Peter wished he could roll his eyes. He wished he could be left behind. But Henry wouldn't let him, he felt sure of that, as even now, Henry was watching his every move as he climbed into a large truck. Kevin managed to push his way next to Peter.
Peter grabbed his friend's hand and found that it was cold and shaking slightly. "Don't worry, Kev! We'll make it!" He whispered, though he doubted Kevin could hear him. He had forgotten Kevin's "remarkable ears."
"Of course we'll make it!" Kevin said hastily. Peter detected a note of anxiety in his friend's voice.
The truck started up quietly. It began to move. This was the beginning - or the end.

The Stuck Truck

The door bell rang gently. I opened the door a little bit and peered out at the visitor.
"Hi, is this number 170?" the middle-aged man in a leather jacket and baseball cap asked.
"No, this is 178, I think," I replied. I could never remember our street address.
"Oh, this isn't the residence of Philip R.?" the man asked. (R. substituted for full last name.)
"No, it's not," I glanced at the clip board, pen and camera in his hands. Tax assessor, maybe?
The stranger puzzled aloud over the street numbers and was clearly annoyed at the seeming absence of Philip Somebody on the entire road.
I noticed that my grandparents, who lived just next door and bring us the mail from our little country post office box everyday, had just pulled into the driveway, as well.
After expressing his apology, the stranger hopped back into his large, tan truck, and backed out of the driveway. Or tried too. He got stuck in a snow bank at the base of the driveway. His wheels spun and caused a light powder to fly up, but the truck insisted on remaining where it was.
After that, everything was a blur. My grandmother was inside drinking tea and my grandfather was helping to shovel snow and tug at that stubborn truck. My brother brought out ashes from the fire place and we got sand, too. At last, after a good workout of a couple of hours in 15 degree (Fahrenheit) weather, the truck pulled free.
The stranger expressed his desire to pay damages done to the little sign that used to bear the numbers "178," and left his number. Apparently, his GPS led him to the wrong street, and consequently, the wrong house. He seems to be a very nice sort of stranger, but I wonder why he God had him show up today?
That was my morning.

The Tragedy of Tiffany Red.

Tiffany Red was a red blood cell. She lived in the vast expanse of Blood Vessels, and enjoyed frequent trips through the heart.
One day, as she was making her daily rounds to provide organs and other cells with oxygen and nutrients, she caught sight of a handsome white blood cell. He was carousing lazily along when she spotted him. Tiffany gazed in admiration at him. But she couldn't stop. She had a job to do. As she passed through the liver and heart again, all she could think of was the handsome blood cell she had seen.
As Tiffany reached the end of her round, a dreadful cry went up. Some invading bacteria threatened to take the life of the body they all worked for. If the body died, then that would be the end of the blood cells, too.
Tiffany gasped in alarm at the news. She saw a menacing capsule of bacteria making its way towards her. There was no time to redirect her course!
Out of nowhere, the handsome white blood cell she had seen earlier swooped down and killed the bacteria. A great mass of the bacteria's friends rushed at him in anger, but he stood fast. When the invaders had at last been terminated, he engulfed them and toppled over in death.
His self-sacrifice drove Tiffany to tears, and stirred the very nuclei of his comrades.
The Army of the White Blood Cells swore to never forget the brave white cell or the bacteria that destroyed it, and prepared to execute vengeance on the bacteria should they ever return. They never did forget. Always were the antibodies circulating the blood, watching for the moment when they could avenge their brave white blood cell friend.
Tiffany drooped sadly as she carried out her job. The tears had cost her the whole supply of water she had held, and she was caught by the liver on her next round and sent to the spleen for dismantling.

Disclaimer: this is my biology-book's fault. I don't even like learning about anatomy.

Time....... (Part 17)

Peter clutched his knees nervously. Waiting was such tiresome work. Tonight was the night the robbers had planned to rob the bank, and it was also the night Kevin and he hoped to escape from the thieves' den and somehow get to California. Yet even as he thought the plan over again, the nagging question of transportation would not go away. How could they get the California?
Planes were rather expensive, and how could they bring the machine on a plane with them?
He sighed. This whole plan of coming to Earth was a total mess. Yet the leader was a wise man; why would he overlook prominent problems in the creating of the plan for this mission?
The answer came to him like a flash; the leader had never been to Earth before. Problems that seemed so out in the open where problems that the leader had never had to experience before, or never knew about. But they had been observing Earth for some time, as the leader had said. Couldn't they have learned about these things from their observations?
Well, that depended on what they had been observing. They might have been taking note of its orbit around the sun, for all he knew. Yet they had come in contact with something human on Earth, for they were always harping on how stupid "Earthlings" were.
Great. So it was he who had been the problem. After all, he knew the problems and didn't mention them to anyone. Why hadn't he mentioned them? Peter kicked the grass irritably.
"I wasn't thinking about them then. I assumed the leader had everything under control, and knew what he was doing. And, I've never been in this situation before, so how could I have comprehended all the trouble I would run into?" he sighed.
But it was too late to think about what he would have done, or should have done long ago. What could he do now?
"Pete!" Kevin interrupted his friend's thoughts. "I say, Pete, what's wrong?"
"Wrong? Oh, every thing's just fine. Don't worry," Peter said hastily. A little too hastily; Kevin detected something other than carelessness in his voice, and scrunched up his brow.
"If nothing's wrong, than why are you sitting here in moody silence?" Kevin queried.
"Sorry," Peter shrugged. "I didn't want to worry you."
"Peter! I'm not a little boy! In fact, I'm older then you! Just tell me what you're worried about, and I'll see if I can help you."
"Maybe I should wait and tell you later," Peter hinted, as he saw a burly robber approaching them.
"Sure," Kevin grinned. "I like hot dogs, too. The ones from the restaurant, MacApple, were really tasty."
"Those were nothing compared to Mixers'," Peter replied, quick to see Kevin's game. The burly robber stopped in front of them.
"You boys ready for the little fun we're going to have tonight?" he chuckled in hid deep voice.
"Yeah, just about," Kevin grinned at him.
"That's good. I'm not!" the robber walked away, laughing like one who has just told a joke that they find humorous, even though no one else sees it as so.
"I'm glad he didn't stay," Kevin muttered. "I can't make a fool of myself by constantly chattering about hot dogs!"
"You're becoming a good actor, that's for sure," Peter smiled. "Do you even like hot dogs?"
"They're good. I can't wait to try pizza, though. Apparently it is very good."
"You'll try some soon enough," Peter smiled again.

The hotel was situated very neatly in the middle of NYC, directly across from a lovely row of small, neat shops. Edmund and his father had only just arrived at the place, and both agreed that it was a rather noisy street due to the traffic.
Ed unpacked his trunk and stuffed its contents into a drawer in the dresser. He gazed out the window with something not short of awe. He had been to several large cities in the past, but they never lost their thrill for him.
"I'm really tired," dad sighed. "Do you mind if I take a short nap?"
"Not at all," Ed turned from the window to smile at his dad.
"What do you want?"
"What do you mean?"
"Don't pretend to be innocent; I see your smile. You've got that look again; the look that says you would really like to ask something but you're not sure if you should," dad teased.
"Sorry. I just wanted to - to know if I could go exploring outside."
"I thought so. I guess if you don't lose sight of the hotel, you can. It is easy to get lost in a city you don't know."
"Thank you," Ed grinned. He picked up his sneakers where he had let them fall in a heap on the floor, and put them on again. "Bye, dad!"
"Bye. Be back by 6, okay? We're going to be eating dinner."
"You don't have to tell me; I won't miss dinner for anything!" Ed said cheerfully. He stuck one of the hotel keys in his wallet, placed it in his pocket, and locked the door behind him.
The air outside was thick and stifling with the exhaust of cars and the humidity of summer. Ed picked his way through the crowds, and stopped to look at every shop window and building he could find. Every now and again he looked back at the hotel in order to keep it in sight.
He was standing outside a window displaying fresh cheese party-platters, beginning to think that it would be a good time to head back to the hotel, when he felt something touch him at his side. It was not unusual to bump into someone in the crowd, but he turned towards it anyhow, and saw a figure making off with his wallet!
"Oh, great!" Ed groaned, as he felt his empty pocket. He was considering letting it go, when he remembered that the wallet had contained the hotel key, and he started running after the figure immediately. Getting back into his hotel room would have been no problem; he could simply knock on the door, and dad would let him in. But the key wasn't his. It belonged the the hotel. And supposing the wallet thief took advantage of the key and broke into the hotel? It never occurred to him that the hotel could replace the lock with a new one.
He ran on for what seemed like forever, losing and regaining sight of the thief on a regular basis. And all the while looking for policemen, but none appeared. The crowd was getting larger as time slowly went by; people were getting out of work and starting to look for places to eat at. The street was full of the sound of honking horns and squeaky brakes. Ed stopped running to catch his breath; the thief was quickly getting out of sight.
Ed groaned and glanced at his watch: 6:13. He had to get back to the hotel. He would just have to tell the hotel manager what had happened. He searched the skyline quickly for a glimpse of the hotel to get his direction. Then he realized the horrible mistake he had made in following the thief: the hotel was out of sight. And the worst thing was that in the midst of the excitement over the loss of his wallet and trying to catch the thief responsible for it, he had forgotten to take note of landmarks and directions.
He started walking towards a shop, certain of having seen it before, only to find that the store was anything but familiar as he approached it. This happened again and again, till he began to go in circles, and recognize shops merely because he had passed them while searching for something he knew.
"I knew this was a mistake!" he cried at last. Though what part of his journey had been a mistake was something he couldn't clarify. He was growing hungry and the sun was starting to set. He checked his watch again and found it to be past 8:00. He had no way of getting in contact with his dad. "Maybe I should ask for help?" he thought. But the saying "never talk to strangers" had been so drilled into his head when he was younger that he found it hard to even consider going against it. His head whirled and his legs were growing tired. He sat down on a bench outside a cozy little store and tried to think of his next action.

The robbers formed a noisy group outside by the trucks. More trucks were arriving from distant locations; the Scallions were a huge, widespread gang that came together for certain important missions. By the number of robbers here (60 going on to 90, approximately), the bank was a very rich one and the mission to it could not fail.
Peter tried to stay keep an eye on Kevin in the midst of all the activity. It wasn't an easy ordeal as the large Scallion gang was growing the whole time. He and Kevin had planned to slip out unnoticed as the gang took off. It was important that the two of them not get separated.
At last, the trucks had been loaded with tools and weapons, and the men began to climb on. Peter spotted Kevin and was making his way in that direction, when a large hand clasped his shoulder. He turned slowly around.
"Ha! Scared ya, didn't I?" Henry laughed.
"Ha, ha. Yes, you did," Peter said, trying not to show his despair. Henry would, of course, be sure that Peter was squished in on a truck somewhere. Which meant that plans of escape would be of no use. "Look, Henry, I'm feeling a little sick...." (his stomach was hurting. But that was because he was so nervous). "Do you think I could stay here tonight?"
"What? And miss the big game?" Henry slapped him on the back with a loud laugh. "No, youngster! Ya can't do that."
"Well, what if I were to get sick or something in the middle of the mission? It wouldn't be pleasant for all concerned, and it might leave evidence," Peter said desperately. He had to get out of this somehow. But did he have to lie in order to do it? No, he wasn't lying, he was sure. He could get sick with his stomach all in a knot like it was. It had happened before when he was nervous; it could happen again....
But it didn't matter whether he was sick or not; Henry was determined to have him along. Peter stopped resisting, knowing it was hopeless and might raise suspicion. He looked around for Kevin and signalled to him helplessly.
"What is it, Pete?" Kevin asked, coming up to his friend. "You look sick!"
"I feel sick, but that's not the point. My old 'friend' found me, and won't let me stay behind for anything."
"Couldn't you escape now?"
"No. He's keeping a constant watch over me. I can see him doing it. And when I can't see him, I can feel him. No, I have to go."
"Well, I guess I'll go too, then," Kevin smiled.
"No. I want you to continue with the plan," Peter remarked, to his friend's surprise.
"What?"
"There's no other way, Kev. I'll have to join you later."
"But how? And what can I do alone? And why can't we just plan for another time?"
"Time, time!"Peter sighed miserably. "Something there is a severe lack of at the present! We've got to go on with our mission. And there may not be another chance for escape."
"But-"
"No, listen! The machine has to be slipped out while the gang is gone. Try to get it some where away from this hideout. Then, go on with the plan and find some way to get to California. I'll try to get out of here as soon as possible; maybe even tonight after the robbery. Then I'll follow you to CA."
"No!" Kevin said suddenly. "We can't get so separated! I don't know how to get on in this dismal country without your help. And we may get so separated that we can never find eachother again, let alone the machine. The mission would be a failure then. And there would be no way of duplicating the mission, meaning Andromeda's doomed."
"But the prophecy! It can't be wrong! Andromeda will not perish."
"But Peter, you are one of the ones prophecied about; not me. Who's to say I won't be stuck on Earth for the rest of my life?"
"But who knows if I am the Sperring prophecied about?" Peter said desperatly. "I can't think of any other ways, Kevin! I've thought till my brain is dead!"
"Then it's time to use mine," Kevin grinned. "That's what I'm here for."

Copyright - 12/25/2008 - Curious Cognitive Content (CCC)
Please do not reproduce without permission from the author(ess).

Time......... (Part 16)

Note: I apologize to my readers for the slight delay in Time........, and hope to be more consistent in posting later sections throughout the Christmas break. :)

Frank paced the floor uneasily. It had been six days since Peter and Kevin left. Of course, one wouldn't expect them to build a couple time machines in anything less than a month. But the time was passing so slowly, and where had they landed on Earth? Supposing it was in a location where metal was unavailable, and the machine they were traveling couldn't be fixed? They couldn't get back, which meant that Frank would have no way of returning, and thus would be stuck in Andromeda for the rest of his life!
The thought alarmed him and he closed his eyes in prayer. The soft treading of a soldier disturbed his thoughts.
"Master Liftun," the soldier said, "I didn't want to disturb you, but I must inform you that your presence is required in the ITC."
"Thank you," Frank said with a sigh. He started walking down the tunnel now so familiar to him. He reached the gate and punched a password into the type pad. The gate did not move. "Oh, bother it all!" he cried, and gave the gate a determined kick. He heard someone in the ITC approach the door quickly and open it from the inside. It was Fromere.
"Liftun!" Fromere exclaimed. "What's up with you today?" His eyes traced the droopy figure of Frank, from the head that stared fixedly at the floor, to the feet that barely dragged along.
"Hullo, Fromere," Frank's voice droned. He lifted his head and saw everyone staring at him.
"Um, Liftun," the leader said. "I hope you aren't sick; we're going to need your help here. There's a bit of trouble coming."
"Sick? Never!" Frank said scornfully. He instantly perked up. "What sort of trouble, sir?"
"Sit down and I'll tell you," the leader motioned to a chair.
"Right. So what do you need me to do?"
"Well, the wall on the North side has been mysteriously weakened. Which points to one thing: a spy or traitor."
"Why is that?"
"The computers have been closely watched, and we have seen no signs of UMO's. And the walls of this fort were built so that the outside of them is like a hard shell -"
"Me and Peter didn't have that experience," Frank interrupted.
"You fell through a window that had been opened for fresh air," the leader said crisply. "It doesn't count."
"Oh. Sorry."
"As I was saying, the shell acts as a type of armor. The only way it can be weakened is on the inside. Thus someone or something belonging to the enemy has sneaked in and performed the task remarkably fast, over night in fact, presumably in preparation for an attack."
"And that attack may be launched at any time," Frank nodded. "I guess it will come sooner than later, though. Maybe even today."
"Why do you think they'll launch it today?" the leader smirked.
"For a number of reasons. For instance, they know that we'll find out about that wall in a relatively short period of time, and will try to attack before we can strengthen the wall again. It's that simple," Frank explained.
"Maybe too simple," the leader muttered. "The Nagars aren't idiots."
"What do you mean?"
"Do you think they'd be so stupid as to weaken a wall at their own risk, right beneath our eyes? And then to attack on that very wall when they know we'll be expecting them there?"
"I don't see what your getting at," Frank furrowed his eyebrows in thought.
"I think they're more likely to stab us in the back," the leader explained. "Look, they figure that as soon as we see the damage, we'll expect them on the north side. Naturally, we'll call our forces to the north side for defense, leaving all of the south side exposed. And they'll take advantage of that."
"But they can't!" Frank cried. "The south wall is impenetrable. You have a good theory there, but I really don't think -"
"How do you know it's impenetrable, though? And what if they have a newly-developed weapon that we don't know about? They have been leaving this fort alone for a good six months. What better time could they have for creating a new weapon?"
"But I don't see...." Frank hesitated. "Is six months enough time for building something like that?"
No one answered him. Fromere shifted uncomfortably and finally stood up.
"Sir, if your theory is correct, why are we sitting here?" he said.
"I'm sorry?"
"We have to evacuate!" Frank said hurriedly.
"No." the leader said calmly. "We will not leave. Limblon is the shield to the rest of the galaxy. We can't betray our people!"
"Then we're going to sit here and be blown up?" Frank asked pointedly.
"No. We are going to fight."
"So, the Nagars fly by and blow us up and we respond with- ? It's a faulty plan, sir," Frank said.
"A half-explained plan will always sound faulty, Liftun. Let me finish! We must organize a heavier lookout. Then we can destroy the enemy before they destroy us, do you see?"
"A heavier lookout? A couple of fat guys are going to fight a whole army!" Frank said.
"Fat guys?" the leader's eyes widened. A couple of the men at the table had a sudden fit of coughing.
"Um, sir? Your orders?" Fromere grinned.
"Send out the emergency signal. Get all of the men ready, so that when the enemy is spotted, our men are on the spot almost immediately."
"Yes, sir."
"Doremat, you appoint more men to the lookout posts, but order them to remain hidden as much as possible."
"Yes, sir."
The leader gave more orders concerning weapons and provisions. The men filed out to tackle the jobs before them.
Frank looked at the leader questioningly. "Sir, is there anything for me to do?" he asked.
Yes, I want you to monitor entering and leaving persons on the computer and report anything suspicious."
"Why do you want me to do that? I mean, I'm clueless when it comes to computers!"
"You can easily figure out passwords, and -"
"I couldn't even open the gate today!"
"I have a feeling that it was because you didn't set your mind on it. Look at the job this way, that anyone who leaves may be a traitor, and everyone who enters is a spy and if you fail to report their movements, it could result in the loss of the fort and everyone in it."
"That's encouraging," Frank said sarcastically.
"It wasn't exactly supposed to be; it was a motivation," the leader replied dryly. "I've got to go make sure everything is going smoothly in preparation now."
The leader left the room, and Frank sat down at the computer with nervous jitters.

Copyright - 12/21/2008 - Curious Cognitive Content (CCC)
Please do not reproduce without permission from the author(ess).

Time......... (Part 15)

Peter and Kevin managed to pick up a good amount of information from the notebook Kevin had picked up. They soon learned that there was a purpose for the release of the gang-members from jail that went beyond a mere longing to have those gang members back. The Scallions were planning an attack on a major bank in NYC, and needed all the people they possibly could. The Scallions worked by numbers; they figured that they could get away with more things by striking people with fear by their large number.
The night of the robbery was to take place in a week.
Peter and Kevin managed to get by unquestioned for the most part by keeping fairly quiet. They couldn't talk even to each other as much as they would have liked. But this only left all the more time for thought, and there was a lot of thinking to be done.
Kevin was able to slip the notebook back into the robber's possessions while everyone was asleep, thus removing any suspicions that might be aroused by the finding of it in Kevin's pocket. Peter began to work out a plan that would cause their "friend's" interest to be aroused in the releasing of the "time" machine, but it seemed to be a hopeless plan. It only seemed that way.
It was the third night Peter and Kevin were about to spend at the gang's hideout. Their "friend," whose name was Henry, was sitting contentedly in a group, telling stories in his loud, bold voice.
"I liked to build inventions when I was a youngster," he was saying. Peter looked up from the knot in the wood floor he had been studying drearily. "And I tell you, it wasn't easy, but I managed to build a machine that would make a bed."
"Yeah, right, yeah," several others mocked him.
"Really! It was made out of a couple o' pipes and an old motor, and...." his voice went on and on in description. Peter had stopped paying attention though; he had learned all he needed to know. He stood up quietly, and left the room. Kevin saw his friend rise and go outside, and waited for a moment before following.
"What is it, Pete?" he whispered when he spotted his friend sitting on the doorstep in deep thought.
"Plans," Peter said vaguely. "By the way, did you know Henry used to build machines? He is a great supporter of the idea that youth need to be more inventive."
"Really," Kevin said, trying to appear casual and uninterested. He knew what Peter was getting at.
"Yeah," Peter said softly. He turned to face Kevin, and allowed himself a grin. He stood up stretched as one would do when tired and left Kevin on the doorstep. Kevin sat there for five minutes more before he too entered through the door. This was the way they had been carrying on conversation for the past few days. It was aggravating and very slow, but it seemed the only way that would not cause suspicion.
"We'll be champion actors after this," Kevin thought with a grim smile.

"Henry, wait!" Peter called to the large man.
"Hey? What do ya want?" Henry paused in his tracks. It was the next morning, and the gang was working on getting their trucks up to an ideal condition.
"You were talking about machines last night?"
"Yup."
"Well, I like building inventions too. I have a machine that - rather, I had a machine. The police took it away when I was arrested."
"Ah, that must have been hard on ya," Henry said, his voice never once changing.
"Yeah. And I'm not sure how to get it out of the police station without being caught again!" Peter heaved a sigh to portray desperation. It was all Henry needed.
"Now, that's not so hard to do, youngster!" He said. "Tell, ya what, I'll get my tools and help you get it out tonight."
"Will you?" Peter didn't have to pretend his surprise, he was surprised. Henry was compassionate?
"Sure will. I believe robbers ought to be inventive; they get more accomplished that way." Thus saying, Henry hurried off to the trucks. Peter heard his voice raise in anger as one of the men splashed water on his tall boots.
"I'll kill you! I'll kill you for this!" Henry was yelling. There was a scuffle and a scream; then all was drowned out by the voices of others cheering and jeering.
Peter cringed. Henry was not compassionate. But why then had he taken an interest in Peter's affairs? Did he like mechanical devices that much? Or perhaps he knew that Peter and Kevin were intruders and decided to lure them into a trap by pretending to help them. Peter's face went warm at the thought.
"What am I to do?" he groaned in despair. He decided to risk it and go with Henry to regain the machine. After all, if Henry wasn't suspicious, he would become so by the mere refusal on Peter's part. Of course, it might be a trap. But in that case, even if he refused to go along, he and Kevin would be in grave danger by sticking around the robber's camp. And there wouldn't be a chance to recover their machine.
"And I used to think choosing between chocolate and strawberry ice cream was hard?" Peter laughed at himself.
Tomorrow night was the bank robbery. Peter managed to get in touch with Kevin and tell him the news; they would make their escape from the robber's camp during the confusion of the robbery.

Kevin sat on the doorstep and swallowed hard. Peter had just left with that man, Henry. Would Peter be caught by the police? Or would he be killed by Henry in a dark alley? No, he couldn't be killed. He was part of the prophecy and was destined to save Andromeda with those other three people from this planet.
Who were the other three though? There was Frank. But what about the other two?
"Maybe I'm one of them," Kevin thought hopefully. "I'll be coming back from Earth anyways, and I'm helping save Andromeda by this whole expedition, aren't I? But I think the prophecy meant people born on Earth. And besides, I'm not good at computers, and I don't have tantrums. Wait! Carrying on; couldn't that mean someone highly encouraging? Someone who "carries on" a task in the midst of everything; you know, perseverance? But I'm not encouraging, am I?" Kevin suddenly felt left out and lonely. He scanned the dark landscape in the hopes of seeing Peter, but no one appeared. He felt a bad pain in his knee, and looked down to find himself pinching it. He released his hold and drew out a long breath, trying to steady his knotted stomach.

The task was done quickly. Henry was an expert at picking locks and the shed in which the machine had been held captive was not the sturdiest of structures. The machine was loaded on the back of Henry's truck. Peter sat beside it to hold it in place, and was relieved to have an excuse for sitting alone.
Henry was not suspicious of him, but it was best to stay as far away from the robber as possible. When they reached the camp again, Peter relocated the machine to a safer place, with Kevin's help.
Kevin opened the engine and began reconnecting the broken pieces quickly. Peter helped him.
"Does this machine, by any chance, happen to have the ability to travel to another location on the same planet?" Kevin asked.
"I don't know. I haven't played with it enough. I suppose if we were to pull the lever forward just a tiny bit, it might."
"Couldn't we become stuck in the middle of the solar system, though?" Kevin asked.
"I'm not sure. Forward from Earth brings us to Limblon, and backwards from Limblon brings us to Earth. Presumably, if you were to go backwards from Earth, you would find yourself in a different location than Limblon, and so on. But supposing we were to fit another lever in here; a horizontal lever. Would that take us to a different location on the planet?"
"I - I don't know," Kevin sat back on his feet and paused in his work with thought.
"There's no time for experiments, unfortunately," Peter sighed. "We'll repair this, and take the flight to California."
"California? Why there?"
"Because everyone knows that's where the movie star's home is," Peter replied. "We're going there to ask the star if he'd be willing to let you play in one of his movies; we need the money from it for the metal we need for our time machines."
"Wait a second! You can't come up with a better idea than that?" Kevin cried. "You, who has always tried to evaluate and make sure things are safe and so and so forth - I mean, this is totally an illogical solution!"
"Do you have a better idea?" Peter hinted.
"Well, not exactly. But couldn't we, like get a job or something instead?"
"We're running out of time, though! If you were to fake an actor for a time, you could be bringing in the money while I built the machines we need. We've got to work together on this in order for it to go fast."
"But I don't want to be an impersonator!" Kevin objected. "We're in trouble with the law already, and you would have us get into more?"
"Oh, Kevin!" Peter said in desperation. "I can't think anymore! I'm tired of the trouble that is chasing us around; I tired of trying to pretend to be a 'bad guy'; I'm tired of having to think!"
"So you'd rather just risk our lives and be done with it?" Kevin asked.
"Yes," Peter said firmly. Kevin was silent a moment.
"Get some sleep," he said at last.

Peter tossed and turned that night. There wasn't a better way, was there? And how many machines were they planning to build? How many could they build? There was only two of them And therefore could only build one extra, and that would not be enough.
Peter sighed miserably. The whole plan seemed a failure. All at once, he sat up quickly and gasped at the idea forming in his head. Maybe they could only build one more machine, but who said it had to be the same machine? He could redesign it so it would hold many materials besides its pilot; thus the delivery to Limblon would be worth while after all.
But there he was, stuck in a rut again. He could see how he would build the new machine sure enough, but it still left one wondering where the money would come from for it and its stock of supplies it would be shipping.
He could write home requesting money. Yeah right! That would really help.
Maybe he should take up a job like Kevin had suggested. No, for they were running short on time.
Robbery was out of the question.
Could he strike up a deal somewhere, like with a metal company? But what could a boy like him have to offer?
No, the movie star seemed to be their only hope.
Peter shut his eyes and tried to stop thinking. Kevin was right; he needed sleep.

Copyright - 11/29/2008 - Curious Cognitive Content (CCC)
Please do not reproduce without permission from the author(ess).

Time......... (Part 14)

Mr. Sperring discussed his son's absence with the movie star's uncle, Abraham Hethe.
"What do you make of it?" he asked.
"Well, my nephew has been acting odd lately, but I have no clue how he got in New York City. I doubt that he had any thing to do with the Scallions's break in though."
"Has it been proved then that it was in fact the Scallions?"
"Oh, yes. They found the green handkerchief by the door, and it has been identified by the police. Clever trick they had, in order to get into that jail."
"But why would they release my Peter of all people?"
"That's beyond me. Unless they made a mistake?" Mr. Hethe asked the question in a hopeless sort of way. Both he and the Sperrings feared the worse: Kevin and Peter had joined a robber's gang and were hanging around in who knows where.
"Wait!" Mr. Sperring said suddenly. "Surely your nephew wouldn't leave a blooming career as an actor to join a robber gang, would he?"
"Not normally," Mr. Hethe admitted.
"And Peter would never go and do such an outrageous thing; he had his heart set on becoming a chemist."
"Do you think they were mere victims then?" Mr. Hethe said hopefully. The next moment his countance dropped. "That doesn't explain the odd machine they found with them in the street."
"True," Mr. Sperring agreed. He pondered it all in silence for a fewe moments. At last Mr. Hethe made a suggestion.
"Let's go have dinner now, and leave the problem for later," he pointed to a restraunt across from the police station. "From there, we can see if anything odd appears to be happening around the station."
Mr. Sperring took a deep breath and took his wife's nervous hands. "Alright," he said at last.

Peter felt slightly relieved when the trip was over. He clambered out of the truck in a hurry and tried to find Kevin.
"Hi, Pete!" Kevin called, suddenly appearing on Peter's right side. "I was looking for you."
"So was I. I mean, looking for you."
"What do we do next?" he whispered.
"Get out of here?"
"Yes, but how?"
"Let me think a little while," Peter shrugged.
"We don't have a while. We could slip away now in the midst of confusion, but how would we get the machine out of the police station without being caught?"
"Um, make friends with a pick-lock, I suppose," Peter grinned.
"Peter! I'm serious!"
"I know, Kev. But I'm all out of ideas."
"Humph," Kevin sighed. "Could we swipe a few tools perhaps?"
"We could, but I'd feel bad about doing that - even to a gang of robbers."
"So do I. Oh, hang it all! There must be some way!"
"Hey, fellows! What are you trying to hang?" a burly robber pushed his way into their midst. Peter noted with some alarm that this was the man who had tried talking to him while on the truck.
"Um, just a - you know - um," Peter murmured.
"Hey? Speak up! I can't hear ya!" the man yelled in Peter's ear. Or at least, it seemed like he yelled.
"Nothing!" Peter yelled back.
"Oh, okay. Say, have ya met Maxamillia yet?"
"No, I haven't had a chance -"
"She's over there! Just tell 'er you're a friend of mine."
"Um, thank you," Peter walked determinedly towards the woman indicated as Maxamillia, closely followed by Kevin. Both were glad for an excuse to get away from the man.
"What was that about, Pete?" Kvin whispered.
"An old friend of mine I met on the truck," Peter said grimly.
"Did you say 'friend'?" Kevin said suddenly, halting in his stride.
"Well, you know what I mean. He isn't exactly a friend, I just -" Peter stopped as he realized what Kevin was getting at. "If we want to get the machine out, we have to make friends with a pick-lock," he said slowly.
"Yes, and it looks like you've already started the process. We've come up with a plan for making that guy convinced that releasing a machine is worthwhile."
"I sure feel sorry for the police, though," Peter said dejectedly. "If I ever get out of this adventure alive, I'm going to be in hot water with the authorities, no matter how much I'd have done to save a distant planet in Andromeda."

"Edmund! Did you pack socks?" mom called.
"Yes, I did."
"And and extra shirt? You never know when it might rain."
"Yes!"
"And your tooth brush?"
"Yes, mom! I've got everything!"
"Well, I'm just checking. You'll be away a whole week with no one to look after you!"
"I'll have dad."
"I mean no mother to look after you. Guys are so disorganized without girls around."
"I wouldn't make so broad a generalization. After all, my friend Luke is so organized, his mom always complains she can't find anything, because he picks up all her things when he has none of his own."
"That's Luke. That's not you or dad."
"Okay, don't worry about it mom. We'll just be in New York City for the conference, and then we'll be home."
"Ah, web designing!" mom wailed. "When you come home from the webdesigning conference, I never understand a word you're saying for a week afterwards!"
"I'll try to talk English then, for your sake," Edmund smiled.
"You're too kind," mom said sarcastically.
At last the suitcase was packed, and Edmund went to bed. His laptop was packed away.

Copyright - 11/20/2008 - Curious Cognitive Content (CCC)
Please do not reproduce without permission from the author(ess).