Memoirs of a Timelord (13 page)

       

       With twenty years of school behind me, I was finally at a point that I could start taking field assignments on the Boss's team.  Although I was glad to get out of the house, I was shaking in my enhanced boots all the way to the jobsite.  I'd met a few of the operators who worked for DorLek and they had some serious Mission-Impossible skills, and I'm talking about the original show, not the Tom Cruise movies.  These people were like Houdini crossed with Einstein on steroids, and I was just some schlub off the street.  As far as I could see I had zero skills compared to these people.  

       Actually, when I first showed up, I figured that the most I would do would be a walk-on part.  Maybe step on a butterfly and cause the entire timeline to shift to the left, or something easy-peazy.  Really I was hoping to just be an observer.  Maybe standing around with a few other students, drinking a Frappuccino and watching how the big kids do it.  But no such luck.  Right away the Boss had me downloading massive quantities of data about some place called Dankst, waaay in the back corner of Voh space, fifteenth century.  

       I felt a little scared since I had come alone.  Aldoo and m' girl Veena had stayed at the house for their own training.  Wherever I was, it wasn't far down the timeline from the destruction of the KuluMata, maybe a hundred years or so.  

       I had studied the complete history of the Voh, with special emphasis on the Colbai Collective.  Out of paranoia of being unprepared I had downloaded everything I could find on life under the Collective Government of this era.  I had also assimilated mountains of data on their culture, music, and media.  They were an interesting people, but humans nonetheless.  Where you had homo sapiens, you had manifest destiny, closely followed by social stratification.  I'm sorry to say that Humans are a lot like locusts.  Given the opportunity, most humans would pave over paradise to put in a parking lot.

       "Tell me about Tenyaa." The Boss asked me thru the Guf.  I was getting used to him popping into my head this way.

       "It reminds me a lot of the Israeli-Palestine situation back home; an adversarial relationship that eventually devolves into statutory apartheid."  I shrugged at what had seemed self-evident to me when I consumed the data.

       "That is a succinct analysis."  He chuckled, or more specifically; I felt his mirth.  That's how it was when you communicated thru the Guf, not really words except in the conscious layer of your brain.  You could feel these incredibly detailed sensations that went far beyond the spoken word, feel the emotion and underlying belief behind the statement.  Once you chat this way, all other forms of communication come up short.

       "How would you resolve the situation?" I felt his curiosity as he masked his own belief on the matter. 

       "Integration." I answered without hesitation. I knew there was only one way they would ever stop feuding.  The opponents on each side preached a two-state nation as a solution, but all they each really wanted was to annihilate the other until it was a single state.  Everything I had studied told me that it was the separation of the two peoples that made it psychologically easier to vilify one another.  Integration put a face on the enemy, while shattering barriers and illusions.  The latter of which were the biggest obstacle to peace.  It was simply easier to hate someone you didn't know.  So long as they were two people, they would view one another as alien species.

       "Why do you want me on this operation?  I don't know shit from shinola compared to these guys.  I'm green as a sapling.  What do I have to contribute to this op?" My thoughts included my feelings of desperation at being vastly undertrained for the mission.  The least of the operatives on this project had fifty years of advanced training in addition to whatever they did in their previous lives. If ignorance had tangible mass to it, mine would be Jupiter.

       Before he could answer there was a knock.  I open the door and find myself face to face with Elvis.  No shit, the King is standing at my door.  And not Vegas Elvis in a jumpsuit, but a young, Private First Class Elvis.  I was surprised at how good looking he was.  I'd only ever seen him on album covers and posters.  I never watched his movies.  That was my Mom's generation.  But to be standing here with him, the way he gave that snicker of a grin...I was nearly twitterpated.  I felt my temperature starting to rise a little and decided to shut down my entire hormonal system.

       Wow!  He had some kind of oscillating aura that would ping me every 50,000th cycle.  But it was his amplitude that got me; his biomagnetic energy filled the whole room.

       "Hey there little filly," He quipped before morphing into a man in his mid-twenties, sandy blonde hair, blue eyes.  Not really handsome, but with that engaging look in his eyes that made you want to know what he was thinking.  I couldn't help but notice how well detailed his skin was.  It took real skill to mimic a thing that well.  My eyes told me he was not human, but Denaree; a natural Class IV morph.  

       "Jenna, this is Meexon." The Boss introduced the new guy.  "He'll be the lead talent on this operation."

       "So I'm like his intern, I run and get him coffee and donuts and simple stuff like that?" I was hopeful.  All I knew about the op was that there was a talent contest involved, and I wanted no part of that.  I'd rather run into a burning building than stand on stage in front of a room full of people.  I was all about blending into the background, the invisible hand.  Special emphasis on the word invisible.

       "Here." Using the Touch, the Boss delivered my entire mission pack.  Within a pica-second I had the material read three times.

       "No, no-no-no, noooo." I said to them both as I waved a finger.  "I am not singing on stage.  No, nein, nunca, nyet, nyet.  That is not gonna happen.  Nope, denied, return to sender, syntax error, requested option is not available."

       "What's your favorite song?" Meexon asked as he flashed me with that aura of his.  It was intoxicating.

       "I dunno," I shrugged as I gave it a thought, "Redneck Girl.  It's the only song I know all the words to."

       Meexon gave that an amused snort.  "Weren't you from...?" He trailed off.

       "Yes," I answered angrily, "I was a Puerto Rican girl growing up in New York City, and I listened to Country Music.  Don't judge me." 

       "Sing it." He asked me with the barest hint of a smile.  

       I was lost in those blue eyes when I agreed to give it a try.  DorLek had vanished, so we were alone.  I went ahead and sang a few bars of the old Gretchen Wilson song.  Even to my untrained ear I could tell that I was terrible, simply awful.  The kinda voice that could get you kicked outta a Karaoke bar, that kinda awful.  My singing voice sucked, no other way to say it.

       But Meexon touched my shoulder a couple of times to kinda adjust me, like he was tuning a piano.  Took a few tweaks but finally my pitch and waver were perfect.  He tweaked me a little more and I had a bit of a rasp to my voice when I pushed it hard.  

       "That'll be yer signature tone." He twanged as he looked me over.  "But you don't look like a rock star..." He trailed off before touching my shoulder once more.  I felt the change wash over me from head to toe.  I was a little excited to see what he had in mind for my costume.

       Reaching out, I ordered the wall to turn into a full-length mirror.  What I saw there surprised me.  I was little, maybe four foot eleven, I mean tiny.  Mebbe ninety pounds with rocks in my pockets, but a great little body.  My butt was so perfect that I groped it myself. I had booty!  Having spent my life flat-assed, it was a welcome change.

       But where Meexon had really done his best work was on my face.  He gave me these naturally happy cheeks, and a set of mischievous eyes.  Topped off with mid-length pixie hair, I was a snarky little redhead.  Even my shoes were great.

       "Now try singing that song." With a charismatic smile he turned me to face the mirror.

       "Well, I ain't never been the Barbie Doll type!" I belted it out as the sound of a live band slowly faded in to accompany me.  "No, I can't swig that sweet champagne, rather drink beer all night."

       I looked good there in the mirror.  Real good, like I'd go lesbian and jump my own bones good.  It was unbelievable, after a lifetime of feeling self conscious about my appearance it felt so free, almost like I was just playing a video game with a really hot avatar.  Uninhibited, I kept at the song, starting the lyrics over from the beginning as the band matched me note for note.  

       I was really getting into it when the walls dissolved into thousands of fans as far as the eye could see.  I was still riding on the euphoric effect of Meexon's aura so I didn't let the sight throw me off.  They were really just images created by the morphic walls, not real people.  

       And that's when I had my first inkling about what being a Diva was really all about.  I had just finished the second verse, and I really had the crowd going, just rolling like thunder.  

       "Let me get a big hell yeah from redneck girls like me, Hell yeah!" I called out to the audience.  In response, the virtual audience replied with a thunderous roar that left me grinning from ear to ear.

       It's the most incredible feeling to be able to harness an audience that way.  It was like sitting on a giant Harley Davidson and twisting the throttle hard, feeling the throaty roar of 900,000 horsepower.  I could make a cute inflection or shake my ass and the crowd would turn it up even higher.  As the size of the audience grew, they shook the building down to the foundations.  By the time I finished the song I felt like I was throttling a Saturn V rocket.  I'd never experienced anything like it, and in that very instant I understood why Meexon Prestar enjoyed his calling so much.  It was absolutely exhilarating to control the audience that way.  Geeeez, I felt like smoking a cigarette afterwards.  

       Meexon worked with me for weeks, teaching me little ways to polish my act.  While I could sing pretty well, I had lousy stagecraft.  Deep down I was still pretty self conscious, and the way that I held myself said a lot about it.  My musical mentor had to teach me to stop minimizing my profile and stretch out.  Throw those arms out there, walk confidently, swing that perfect ass, and flavor it all with a hint of sassy.  I wasn't just acting a part...I had to actually be that person.  I needed to make an entire planet fall in love with Zeva Zull, citizen of the third district.  

       I remember the auditions, and wondering how actresses ever got past this stage of the process.  It is terrifying sitting there waiting your turn to get up there on stage and possibly make a complete ass of yourself.  Of all the things in my life that scared me, this beat out math and combat.  Being morphic, I could have literally crapped a cinder block right then and there, that's how nervous I was.  I watched contestant after contestant walk out there on that stage and die an embarrassing death on planetary TV. Waiting in line by the door with a thousand other applicants, I felt like a gladiator waiting for my turn to die in the ring for the amusement of the crowd.  Anyone who thinks I'm overreacting can march their asses down to their local community theater and audition for a musical.  Betcha chicken out before you even make it to the stage.

       The judges were three celebs of varying backgrounds.  There was the drunken former-Diva seated next to the B-list rock star.  The third guy on the panel was some asshole record producer who seemed to take pleasure in finding cruel things to say eloquently.  I'd seen more than a few people leave the stage in tears after he tore them down mercilessly.  I was genuinely worried that he might say something rude to me, and I'd have to feed him a knuckle sandwich on worldwide TV.  

       But my panic was misplaced.  As I climbed those stairs, one of the roadies placed his hand on my shoulder to reassure me silently.  It took a moment to realize it was DorLek under the costume.  Giving me a wink, he bathed me in reassuring aura as I passed.  So with this newfound sense of calm, I walked out there on stage and killed it with a Whitney Houston song.  By the time I finished the Diva was crying, and the rock star's mouth hung open in surprise.  Even the asshole record producer had a shiny look on his face.  I was in.

       But that was not the most amazing thing that happened that day.  I was heading out the door when Meexon started singing, and something made my feet stop.  I just couldn't leave, like I was being drawn in by this irresistible force.  When I turned to the stage, my eyes showed me what was going on.  Meexon was pumping megawatts of auric energy into the crowd.  He was like a radar station, saturating the whole audience with his sheer power.  From the readings I was seeing, he could have sang a grocery list and the girls woulda still thrown their panties at him.  Add to that the fact that he really knew how to own that stage.  It was fascinating to watch him work.  He was so polished and confident, like he was born for the stage.  

       Right away he was a viewer favorite.

       The big buzz among the contestants was the new rules.  This year in addition to singing, they were encouraged to play instruments as well.  Beyond that, the contestants were able to work together or even exchange musical services.  I suspected that this last bit was introduced by the Boss somewhere along the line; he had people everywhere.

       But this new regulation would allow us to band together into powerful musical cliques.  It was also designed to better showcase Meexon's skills; a critical element of the whole endeavor.  The public could not merely like him; they had to be absolutely infatuated with him.  I was just an element of that picture.  He was the main event, and it was easy to see why.

       We were celebrating that first night when I did the last thing I ever expected to do.  Meexon and I had stumbled out of a party and onto the rooftop of the Klohm Center, this peaked building that gives you a view of the city in every direction.  There were only the two most distant suns in the sky, Mul and Mew, so the city lights really lit the sky up.  This was what passed for nighttime when you lived on the edge of a galactic cluster.  The lights were mesmerizing, there was a gentle breeze wafting along up there, the champagne was perfect, and Meexon was absolutely radiant.  Somewhere in there it occurred to me that my current form was no accident.  He had selected my stature and build based on his own preferences.  I wasn't just cute to him, I was his ideal. That much I knew for sure from the emanations I was getting from him.  He desperately wanted me, and I was of a like mind.