Wee. Only two to go to catch up:

  The problem with Malte was that he also believed political
protest to be kowtowing to the Mandate's established system of
government. Being only a writer and philosopher with friends of
the same calling, he realized himself incapable of physical action.
And so Malte died unhappy and poor; a mountain of a mind, but a
mole hill of a man.

Heh. How interesting. I suspect I shall end up like that. Many ideas, but
few ever executed. Or at least until I catch up on the backlog. :)

  Life is random because life is all context, and context is
random. Man must respect this or pay history dearly for it.

Yes, but history ends up eventually forgotten anyway, so the price doesn't
really matter in the big scheme of things :P

  This was how my father had explained it when I was very
young, and I never doubted his words even after Mom died, and

drop comma

 he

left me. People like Malte were wasted talent; too full of fear to do
anything about it.

Or afraid of what they would have to do try to force their ideas upon
others.

  "I see you and Alie found each other.

Screw: What? Cumstains are on my pants or something?

That's excellent.

Why don't you come sit down over here?"

  There was a pristine white loveseat against the far wall in
the laboratory. The room itself was huge, and no doubt took up
most of the floor in this building. Upon entering, I immediately
noticed that the whole lab reminded me much of the basement
room in Wells' house.

Now there's a pleasent thought.

There were hundreds of large machines, and

all of them looked a little familiar. Tall cylinders spinning silently,
wrap

wrapped

  "Alright." She sat down across from us. "I am Mrs. White,
and the surrogate head of the Cabal. Twelve other members and
myself entirely make up the organization, and this building is our
head of operations. Your friend Christopher Dais is

friend, Christopher Dais, is

our newest

allocation. He rounds out our number in terms of bringing us the
full attention of our peers." She smiled. "But in addition to our
underground insurrectionist work, we pull several billion dollars a
year in legitimate business. Consulting, mostly. To our current
knowledge, the Mandate does not know Eichenger Industries is in
any way involved with Das Uberdog or other illegal gangs.
Unavoidably, that will soon change, of course."

  "Excuse me, I have a question. Just how old are you?"

Mrs. White: Old enough to know better, stupid enough to do it anyway.

  "Screw!" said Alethea.

  "Hey wait," I interrupted. "I never asked you before. How
do you and her even know each other?"

A very good question.

  "He deals drugs and weapons to anyone with the money."

  "He's still a nice guy, though. And have you tasted his
barbecue ribs? I mean, really tasted them?"

Mrs. White: Yes. He needs to add more spices to the sauce. It's far too
mild.

  "I'm afraid not," she said. "It has been a long while since I
have been out."

  I shrugged. "That's okay, I don't really get out much
either."

  Alethea spoke up. "Mrs. White has a condition that requires
her to stay near to the lab facility in this building.

It's called 'Avoiding Being Assassinated.'

  But the old woman answered for herself. "No, you were
partially right the first time. The city's atmosphere is very
constricting as

constricting, as

you both know. It is clogged and cramped because

of the freedoms the Mandate withholds from us." She gestured
toward a window, where the afternoon sun shone brightly over the
skyscrapers. "Outside, the masses and multitudes are a drain on my
whole condition and

condition, and

  That must have got her, but if it did, she didn't show it.

Then maybe it didn't get to her.

  "A planned attack on several government facilities where
we know members of the Mandate will be."

  "So you're a bunch of terrorists." I was feeling
uncomfortable again and it was making me act like a prick.

Mrs. White: Not if we win. Then we get to call ourselves, 'The Good Guys.'

  "And there is no better way to make your point than by
killing people? Anyone, really? Don't you think you are becoming
a little like them?"

She should take the Vanth Dreadstar philosophy: I only overthrow
governments, not run them.

I always liked that series. You have to hand it to the man. He was good at
overthrowing galactic empires. Racked up four. One he got rid of by
destroying the galaxy. The second the people he helped put in power threw
him out. The third time he ended up mistakenly backing the bad guys and
overthrew the good ones, though he did make amends by overthrowing the
people he put in power as a way of making up.

He was also good at farming.

  "I am not like them!" she said, and stood up. The sudden
raise of her voice

raising (I think)

The city has always shed

shielded, perhaps?

 those for whom there will be

no other punishment. I have never hurt others purely for my own
ends.

Desiring freedom from your oppressors is indeed for yor own ends.

  She continued. "Leave the real work to the professionals,
Screw. I've been in this business since before you were born. We
do what we have to do." She sighed and sat down on a cot near our
couch. "And you don't seem to waste any time killing people when
they come after you."

Since it means he'll end up dead if he doesn't, and that he's done nothing
to encourage their behavior, it's not the same thing.

  "I remember there being a lot of 'group time.' Big
cockroaches. And everyone agreed that the food was just
unacceptable."

  "Anything else?" she asked, lowering her eyebrows.

need a line break here

  "Of course." I said. "But who wants to be operated on.

on?

  "Wells and his man Weirham had planted a signal devise in
the base of your skull before they released you from solitary
confinement. By that time your subconscious had been subjected to
so much merusion, that

drop the comma

  "Wells' only set back

setback

 was that you did not mature nearly as

fast as most. In fact you

fact, you

  "This was when we decided to intervene directly. Chris
kept an eye on you, and

don't think you need that comma

made sure Wells failed his mission. But

you seemed to be able to take some care of yourself, and he stayed
in the background. When you finally discovered that you could use
the power, you wasted no time in crushing Wells. Chris was still in
the picture, but we did not want Wells' superiors learning that the
Cabal was in anyway

any way (I think)

  Alethea shuddered next to me.

  Mrs. White had crossed the room and was standing next to
a long gurney. "I hate to be the one to say it Screw,

it, Screw

  "You want me to be a martyr for someone else's cause." I
said.

Mrs. White: Only if you die.

  "Good."

  "I am serious. I am sorry."

  "I want some time to think."

  "Of course you may have it," She

she

said to me, crossing the

room. "But please hurry. The sooner we start, the more prepared
you will be."

  I looked across the room at Alethea who had been silently
listening from a chair. "Come on, lets

let's

go."

  "Yes, it was true. A long time ago." She

she

  "Long story. Ran into a couple of Taurs last night, and
Chris showed up to cover my ass. Turns out he's tight with that
gang called 'Das Uberdog.' Anyway, his insurrectionist comrades
who run under the name 'Cabal' own a posh sixty story building
up here, and they're letting us stay."

Don't think he should have mentioned that.

  "My boys

boy's

  "Well you don't have to be anywhere near the riot. If I go
at all, it'll most likely be with a whole platoon when I find this
Rufius, and you could probably be in it. To make a little money if
you're interested."

  "You want me to get killed too?"

Screw: Dying likes company the same way misery does.

Nice work. Things seem to be moving to a head quickly, and I approve.

D.B. Sommer




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