It's the start of what I planned to be the second of two full weeks this month. I'm back with more of Chelsea, this time not because I don't have anything else, but because I needed a chapter to stay on a pace to finish this. In the process, I decided it was time to work in a character who was always the arch enemy of Percy and the Evil Possum, and yes, this was always how he talked. I'm trying again to put links for all chapters at the end.
She had barely taken a
seat before the Examiner said, “Is there anything you have to say about who
damaged police unit Percy?”
She looked coolly into the large sauravian eyes. “If we’re going to discuss it,” she said, “can you tell me what charges could be filed?”
The Examiner paused and clicked its beak. “That is a question we’ve been considering,” he said. “Usually, injury to a municipal AI would be counted as damage to Arcostate property. Inspector Simmons is a special case. He was manumitted some time ago, but he has chosen to remain at his post. Several motions have been made to grant him the status of Citizen, but none proceeded as far as a hearing. The most current status assigned to him is Special Person, Non-Voting.”
Chelsea looked back at
Deve. She was long past being unnerved as his two pairs of arms became three,
so quickly and naturally that it seemed that they had merely been behind the
others the whole time. “If I might
clarify that point,” he said, “if there are no charges against Mr. Feaghan or
Ms. O’Keefe, neither of them are required to answer questions. Certainly, it’s
not a matter for this hearing.”
“For the moment, I agree,” the AI judge said. “I advise that the issue be set aside.”
“Certainly,” the Examiner said. “At any rate, I am interested in the conditions at Mr. Feaghan’s residence. Ms. O’Keefe, it’s a matter of record that you had been residing in a premium residential unit in Aster Plaza, specifically as a consideration for your service. When the Protective Order was delivered, however, you were occupying the lower level of a housing module that your own Department is still reviewing whether to condemn. It was further reported that you and your partner were sleeping on a convertible couch because he had converted his bedroom into a workshop. Surely you will admit, it would seem to be a deterioration in your circumstances.”
Chelsea smiled. “We’re
only staying there till we can get our own place,” she said confidently. “I
still have a Housing credit, as long as I don’t lose my position. He does
better as long as he has a place laid out for his work.”
“Were you aware, then,”
the Examiner said, “that the Feaghan family has made several offers to pay for
his relocation? Even to buy the module and restore it to factory condition?”
“We don’t talk about his
family,” Chelsea said. “He doesn’t need their money. I don’t need it.”
Doctor Charleton stood up promptly. “I would like to speak to that,” he said. “Mr. Feaghan’s family has prepared an extensive record of their financial assistance to him, and to his friends and associates as well. He has most certainly been in `need’ of their money.”
The Examiner looked back
to Chelsea. “Like I said, we don’t talk about his family,” she said
preemptively. “That includes the money.”
“Have you discussed
having a family of your own?” the Examiner said with evident curiosity. “A
number of persons have mentioned you speaking openly of having children
together…”
“Of course,” Chelsea said. “We’re waiting, for now. And by the way, do the family records say how much they spent having us followed? Trying to split us up?”
“Ms. O’Keefe, that is
also outside this hearing,” the Examiner said. “Unless, of course, you have
ever felt there was a threat to your safety or that of your partner…”
“Oh, no,” Chelsea said.
“I’m sure they would never do anything like that.”
The doctor spoke up. “I would like to question Ms. O’Keefe,” he said. “I believe I can clarify some further points.” The Examiner yielded politely. The doctor had barely taken the floor before he said, “How many people in your department have you had `therapy’ with? That is to say, as part of your work?”
“That’s not how it
works,” she said. “I have training and
certification to simulate certain acts, fully clothed, in the presence of an observer.
Anything more than that requires the participation of a credentialed Instructor.”
“Then you never did anything beyond your training?” the doctor said. “Perhaps with a partner of one of your coworkers? Or perhaps, if we must be hypothetical, did you ever hear of such a thing?”
“Hypothetically,” she
said, “we can participate in a session overseen by an Instructor, if neither we
nor the client have a current Partner. At least, that was the rule.”
“Did you ever hear of
Department employees pressuring their partners to participate?” the doctor
said. “Even trading for other favors?”
“If there were complaints, it would go to the next level of administration,” she said.
The doctor smiled. “Might
I ask, have you ever participated in a session with Mr. Feaghan, since he
started training as an Instructor?”
“He invited me to be his
partner in some of his lessons,” Chelsea said. “I asked about being his
partner, if he becomes an Instructor. Kloe says he does better on his own.”
“I see,” the doctor said
evenly. “Then have you had any more sessions of your own with Ms. Garcia?”
“We completed a full set of sessions,” Chelsea said. “She certified that we had… improved.”
“I’m curious,” the doctor
said, “what led you to ask for an Instructor?”
Before Deve could object, Chelsea answered. “We were having a lot of fun, but we weren’t going anywhere,” she said. “We needed a push to get things in gear. The sessions were everything we both needed. When he got offered Instructor training, it bumped his self-esteem way up. Got him frisky, too.” As she spoke, Shad gave a somewhat sheepish smile.
Again, the doctor circled
in his mind. “Do you now recall,” he said, “your first meeting with Mr.
Feaghan?”
“Of course, I remember it
now,” she said. “At least, I remember the day. We were really busy.”
“Then do you recall,” the
doctor said, “if you told any other man you could tell if he was a virgin?”
“I talk about it once in
a while,” she said evenly. “It can help break the ice.”
“And what is your, shall we say, success rate?”
Chelsea folded her hands
behind her head again. “All right, I can see where this is going,” she said.
She pointed at one of the panelists. “That guy. Not you, him. That’s right.
He’s a virgin.”
All eyes turned to the
panel box. The man was clearly surprised, yet not flustered.
“This is clearly a
distraction,” the doctor said. “I ask that the panelist remain silent.”
“It’s a point you
raised,” the Examiner said.
“The panelist is free to respond, if he chooses,” the judge said.
“It’s no secret,” the man
said. “My fiancée and I are members of the Orthodox Church; we’re waiting for a
religious service.”
“Very well, you’ve had
your fun,” the doctor said. “Now, why don’t you give a real answer, did you
recognize Mr. Feaghan when you met at the Gordon Center?”
“No,” she said. “I’ve
admitted it to him. I really didn’t know.”
“Then if you couldn’t
recognize your own client under ideal conditions, how are you fit to be his
partner and an agent of the state?”
“Do you think I haven’t thought of that?” Chelsea said. “The fact is, maybe I’m not. But what happened was real, and so is what we have. Say whatever you want, do whatever you want… I don’t even care. Just don’t hurt him.”
The judge sent them away. It was less than an hour before they were summoned back. “The panel has ruled that the protective order is justified,” the judge said immediately. “However, their support is qualified. The order was put in effect for up to one year. By normal procedure, it can be reviewed at three month intervals. Therefore, I set the next review after another 6 weeks. Finally, the panel has lowered the protective order to Class 1, which will allow supervised contact during counselling. That will be all.”
Diane looked at Chelsea.
“It still could have been worse,” she said.
“It’s kaka,” she said.
“And they aren’t letting this go. Another six weeks is the same as a year.”
“Maybe you’re right,” Diane said. “So how about we make sure you at least aren’t handing them ammunition?”
They emerged into the
courthouse atrium, on opposite sides. Shad looked at her, again looking
miserable. She formed her plan then. All she had to do was… Then she saw the
two burly men at the door, and two more carrying a very large box. She shivered
as she saw a fifth figure between the elevators, strangely thin with a coat
straight out of a detective movie, doing nothing. She was still ready to move,
when Percy’s hand gripped her shoulder. “He’s not worth it,” he said.
“Yes he is,” she said.
“He’s worth it to me.”
“So maybe he is,” Percy
said. “It’s still not going to help.”
“There’s places we can
go,” she said almost dreamily. “There’s other Arcostates, Osgiliath.
Carcassonne. Xuthal. If we can make it out just once, they’ll take us in.”
“No,” Percy said. “You won’t do it, because you love this city. I know.” Then he steered her for the door. As they left, she looked back at the elevators. Nobody was there.
Deve and Diane were waiting outside. “We can take the train back to your residence,” he said. “Diane can come back for your van later. It will be faster. Safer, too.” It wasn’t, least of all for Diane, but she went with them.
They boarded an elevated monorail that hung from the underside of the city’s main elevated roadway. Two of the burly men followed them up to the loading platform. Deve looked over his shoulder and smiled, then closed his lower left hand into a fist. There was a metallic crack. His fingers seemed to fuse into a studded mass of metal. Simultaneously, two blades seemed to sprout from his hand, a doubly curved blade just above the wrist and a claw that hooked forward from the joint of his thumb. The men waited for the next train. Deve shook out his hand as they boarded.
Chelsea got off the train a block away from the apartment building where she had taken refuge. It was a radial building of a type called a stacker, shaped like a 20-sided polygon with a scalloped roof. As she stepped off the train, she saw a shadow beside hers. A voice said, “Keepa walking.”
She walked half a block in the other direction. The voice continued, like that of a thing trying to sound human and not quite succeeding. “I’ma very old, you know,” it said. “I’va been a lotta places, seen a lotta dings. Even one-a or two lika your friend wid de arms.”
They reached an aquatic
recreation area, consisting of several pools shaped like wedges of a single
circle. “What do they want?” Chelsea said.
“Not dem, her,” the voice said. “She already hava what she wants. I’m here to maka sure you know de score. I worka for dem before, others too. There’s always people lika dem. Remember that, and you canna get by.”
“I thought this was when
they’d try to pay me off,” Chelsea said.
“No,” it said. “If dis was about de money, you woulda ask for it at de start. Dey prob’ly woulda pay. Now, woulda no matter if you did. Just stay away, or sooner or later, you runna into me.”
“Why?” Chelsea asked
succinctly.
The shadow of the thing shrugged, with a strangely undulating motion that made her shudder again. “She don’ta say,” he said. “You aska me, it’s de appearance of de ding. Ifa you take him once, she would no care. De rest woulda dank de Logos he get a woman. Dey calla me about him before. Ifa you move in quiet, she prob’ly woulda letta you run. But you taka de boy in lika stray dog dat follow you home, dat maka people talk, dat getta someone made an example. It always come down to dat.”
“It doesn’t matter if you
stop me,” Chelsea said. “He loves me. If I don’t come for him, he will come looking
for me.”
“Perahaps,” the thing said.
“Only timea will tell.” When she looked over her shoulder, no one was there.
Part II: The parking violation!
Part III: Capsule hotel destruction!
Part IV: The Kelsiraptor, and Harryhausen monster bureaucrat!
Part V: The restraining order!
Part VII: The trial, part 2, with the King Kong Moral Contraband film!
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