Crossover

Chapter 6:  An Evening with The Lawsons

With the events that happened in the past forty-eight hours, everyone was inside. In the quiet little suburb, there was a major upset and disturbance. Lights were on in homes, cars were in driveways, and lawns remained well cared-for and decent. But no one wanted to be outside tonight, not in this now very quiet neighborhood. Instead, people were scared indoors. The suburbanites of this Southern Californian neighborhood were frightened into hiding.

First, there was what happened to the Brindles. The Brindles, a decent (if annoying) family had been attacked by criminal assailants. Worse, the criminals most probably belonged to a crime syndicate. The police let forth one fact of organized crime being implicated, given the relative professionality of the bungled abduction of the Brindles, and the small town papers went to town with the implication.

Worse was the carnage in that all three perpretrators were very dead--killed after trying to do something to the Brindles. They were killed horribly: a horrible hole in the back of one (made with a tool?), a neck-break for another, and a third full of bullets from his own illegally modified firearm.  And yet, worse still, the rescuer-murderer that stopped the assault on the Brindle home was nowhere to be found. Topping it all was Bonnie Brindle was nowhere to be found, either.

The next day, there was a break in. A blind woman's home was broken into. Maybe, the fool who did the break in had a twisted sense of humor, considering what he did. First, the perpretrator bypassed and destroyed the burgular alarm. Then, all of the woman's oatmeal went missing. There was no oatmeal at all to be found in the house, and the blind woman was more distraught because of that. And the only remote clue to go on was how a strange man with a medium build--and a red cape sewn to a tee-shirt--was seen hours later, laughing and walking down a downtown street before vanishing into an alley.

Murders, abduction, laughing men with red capes, stolen oatmeal, it all seemed twisted. The neighborhood was going mad. Yet, instead of going mad, the people preferred to be barricaded than become victims of the freakish events to take their neighborhood. They would not be waylaid by criminals or twisted people.  Or maybe, it was the beginning of a sort of madness in the neighborhood?

That was why the streets were so very quiet tonight and bare of company. There would not be anyone to see the two coming. And for sanity's sake, this was a good thing. No one would believe how the two would arrive, anyway. The world seemed to be mad enough, thank you.

Two gusts of wind blew along one residential street here. Trees swayed and lost some leaves. Several cats yowled, and a dog wimpered. Then, all went terribly quiet. Even crickets stopped their scraping-chirping. Another gust of wind, and another hole in reality opened.

Street lights dimmed a bit as part of the air above the street rippled. As if the air had the viscosity of water, a circular region of it rippled in a circular pattern, circular waves of ripples distorting the air. Then, that rippling part of reality pulled itself opened: a dark and suspended hole hovering in midair, a hole fourteen or so feet across. Wind flew into that hole.

Petite and gymnast slender Gally along with taller and athletic Vicki faded into existence on the street's sidewalk, appeared side-by-side -- and both were not dropped this time. Both lying on their backs, the hole in reality quietly closed. Crickets tentatively chirped again. Night sounds resumed.

Gally's consciousness returned quickly. I made it through; my brain has not died. Or is this death, it being so dark and quiet?  No, I am alive.  But I should just lie here.  Why am I in this peaceful place, so beautiful?  The soft winds of the night wafted over the street and through yards and trees, making her dark hair flutter as she lie there.

Gally sat up and supported her upper body on solid gray arms.  She looked about. There was the night air, and there were the small and clean houses shrouded in night. And there was grass barely visible in the pools of light along the streetlight-lit lane. She gently put a hand to the synthetic flesh of her forehead--by an extremely old habit that extended to before her body was replaced with a synthetic one: She could not feel the temperature of her own forehead through her armor-hard alloy hand. 

Vicki was close by, and Gally saw that Vicki recovered. Gally, wide eyed, saw that the robot girl Vicki hugged herself as she stood up. "I was nearly killed, Gally," said Vicki. "I was knocked around, and hit by that strange woman." She smiled. I suppose we won, didn't we?" added Vicki. Gally tried to reflect Vicki's smile, did not tell Vicki that the robot girl really was "killed," or damaged to the point of shutdown. Maybe, some things were best left unsaid.

Luckily, the trans-warp had repaired Vicki--physically.  The robot was as physically intact as she was when the entire madness began with The Cloaked Man--and Thunderhorse.

"I want to go home," then said Vicki, in a dearly deadpan and monotone--a truly robotic one, a desire to go back to a safe area before any more possible damage was done. Gally nodded; going to Vicki's "home" was a good way to start again in this point in time, a way to establish a base of operations. Vicki wanted to get back to her family. Gally thought that meeting the rest of the Lawsons, especially the robotics expert that made Vicki, would help immensely.

In silence, with Gally gawking the delicate suburban surroundings cloaked in nighfall and Vicki hugging herself, they went to Vicki's "home." And unlike the last time they arrived, the two actually appeared closer to Vicki's home. Maybe, Mr. Thunderhorse's machinery was becoming more accurate in sending them to places. The two would find that out -- if they made it through this next task.

Meanwhile, in the Lawson residence, the family ate a sullen dinner around the table. All three Lawsons -- Ted, Joan and young Jamie -- were all drawn-faced. Forks played with asparagus and spoons went into mashed potatoes, but food seldom went to waiting mouths. Joan's fork stopped moving, and a teardrop came down from her face. She seemed older than her forties. Ted and Jamie stopped eating as well, the dining table going silent.

"The police are trying their best, I know," said Joan, her voice wavering. "Police Captain Sifuentes told me that she personally sent out two detectives to look for Vicki. No hope yet, but she promised to..." Joan's face broke into a full painful grimace, and tears came. Ted's tears were close in coming, despite his knowing that Vicki was "just a robot"--so he said to himself too many times, saying that to himself for weeks, months and years. Vicki was also their "daughter," human or not.

Ted quickly moved his seat next to Joan's, and the two hugged.  Jamie's face went down. More drops of moisture came, down from the face that lost some of its chubbiness from earlier childhood. Vicki was probably really gone this time. After so many quiet years of activity, years of fewer mishaps with locals around the possibility of Vicki's secret being revealed, and she disappeared. Vicki the robot girl was finally fully accepted as being "human," and she went away.

The door bell gave a chime. Silence then reigned. "That's probably the police now!" said Jamie, a quick wipe of his face with an arm. "I'll go get it!" He strode to the door, Ted and Joan Lawson still at the table. They hoped to get through this. "Mom, Dad! Come here!" came Jamie's voice through the living room, vibrating through the kitchen door.

Joan and Ted both stood, then excitedly moved into the living room. They stopped. Vicki stood in the center of the living room, calm and wide-eyed, brown eyes and pale face not at all marred. Vicki looked perfectly fine. Even her blouse seemed as unruffled as it was when she left, so thought Ted. Also seemingly fine was who he saw as a strangely dressed teenager in a black and sleeveless gymnast's suit.

"Hi, Mom. Dad, Jamie..." said Vicki, trying to break the silence. Jamie moved to stand by his mother, and Vicki still stood by Gally. Vicki spoke up. "I suppose you'll really need to know where I've been, and who this person is. But let me first say that we're both fine."

Ted's voice was a fraction of a turn below shouting. His brows furrowed, he began speaking loudly. "Where have you been, young lady? Where is what we would like to know. You vanish for hour and hours, the neighborhood is attacked by unseen vandals, people are killed, the Brindles are under siege, and you vanish! What do you have to say, if anything?" Ted breathed deeply, becoming just as furious as he was upset moments earlier.

Gally spoke.  "Actually, Ted, those incidents were exactly why your daughter 'vanished,' so you said. If I had not intervened and acted, perhaps your daughter would not have been here at all, not here to be at the end of your shouting." Ted blanched. "Would you have preferred you daughter come home silent, cold and unmoving, broken? Do you hear me, Ted Lawson? I specifically meant that, 'broken.'"

Ted looked once at Gally, looked away a second, then did a double take. Someone seemed to know, he thought. He nearly staggered to the armchair. Joan interjected. "Young lady, who are you? And why are you wearing that, an aerobics suit and armor?"  He paused, interested in Gally's "armor."  "Hm-m-m.  That looks like a sort of alloy covered with something carbon..." His voice went into a decrescendo.

Gally placed her gray fingers to the top of her sternum, a gesture to herself. "I call myself Gally, as far as I have a name at all. For a beginning, you know my name." She spread metal arms and hands. "And what you see is not really armor, Lawson... Doctor Lawson?" Ted nodded. Gally then said, "Then, as someone educated, you will probably be more open minded and more likely to believe what I have to say about this. I will tell you as much as you can bear, at least."

Joan and Jamie took seats on a sofa, and Vicki with them. Gally stood her full -- if diminutive height -- and started some explanation. I will go gently here; I do not know the customs of these times, and cannot know if they react too violently to what is to be said. Gally was glad that she had been granted the ability to speak and be understood despite whatever time period she fell into--a boon from the person that sent her through these madcap adventures. Gally clenched her fists at her sides, then took a breath into her armor-hard body.

Gally's doll-huge brown eyes glinted, the material shimmering with life despite their artificiality. Her shoulder-length dark hair swishing when her head swiveled and locked on Ted. "Doctor Lawson, first let me ask you a question. Specifically, do you always believe that living will always be as comfortable as it is now? Living for people always be as gentle and protected as it seems to be here?"

Ted's brows went down.  "What a weird question?"  His mind went over the questioning; he answered it.  "How do you mean, 'comfortable'? Life is what it is," he began. Ted made a sweeping gesture with his right hand, edgy on the sofa. "There's earning a living, keeping up a house and...raising a family.  Things are not as comfortable these days, but we make it."

Gally tilted her head to the side, perhaps somewhat admiring Ted's happiness and surety in life.  "Rather, let me ask this, and let me ask the rest of the Lawsons as well. Joan, Jamie, is it not true that history has told you of different times and ways of living?" Gally held her hands behind her slender back, alternating her focus between the two.  Joan Lawson, a teacher, spoke up.

"I believe I know what you're talking about, Gally.  I teach my students about how people live in history. And when they hear about how Native Americans and European settlers lived hundreds of years ago, they call that type of living harsh. You know, having to struggle with low-technology agriculture, using plenty of animal and human power to raise crops, poor medical technology... Things that way. Life in the past seems harder than it was today."

Ted got it. He then took fresh looks at Gally's body. He noted the articulation of her arms' and shoulders articulate metal-work, how her bare and slender metal arms were made up of hard plates in place of human muscle groups. And the metal seemed to go beyond just the shoulders from what he could tell. From the form-fitting tightness of Gally's pseudo-leather bodysuit, he could tell that there was no place where the articulate and exoskeleton of armor ended. Her body was that of advanced robotics, extremely lifelike...and probably very strong, judging from the ease with which Gally moved. He nearly jumped at that point to confirm it, but remained calm...his face jumping when he had a very clear assumption of what Gally was.

But how? Something was clearly freaky here. Then, he let Gally continue, listening to whatever information she had to offer. "I'm listening. Go on, Gally." Gally clasped her solid hands before her, then continued. "Good, you listen with open ears and mind. Now, imagine the future, Dr. Lawson. Imagine another period of time when life becomes quite eventful and tough. It is a world without protection by something called 'government,' a time without your...police."

Jamie pressed his back to the sofa. Ted and Joan leaned a bit forward as Gally continued her narrative. "I will not say exactly when, because calendars may deviate from accuracy in my time. Also, telling you about the future will not do you too much good, because there is really nothing you can do about it. No one could stop the Interstellar War."

Joan piped up, "'Interstellar War?' You mean, there is another world war in the future? If so, then the world must have been nearly destroyed! I am guessing that technology must be far, far better than it is now, and more destruction must have come."

Gally nodded. "Joan Lawson, you are more correct than you believe. But this was not just a war on Earth. It was a war of worlds, a war so big. So grand."

"Like Star Wars? I saw that movie! Man, that movie had huge battles! People were hit with laser pistols. Explosions everywhere! And the Death Star could blow up planets! Then, Luke Skywalker..."

"Jamie!" chorused Joan and Ted simultaneously. Gally hummed a small "hmm..." with her small mouth closed. She went on. "I am too small to really talk of how big the war was. But from what Ido told me, from what a...true friend said, it was the war that nearly destroyed Earth itself. We on Earth survived, at least I know that is true of those of us in Scrap Iron City and the lands close by. And the rulers of the planet stayed in power. In fact, they even managed to remake society into what it is...or will be.

"People of Scrap Iron City live under the ruling class, the people that live in Zalem. They live in a suspended city far and among the clouds. From there, they benefit from the output of the Factory and the farms of the outlands. With terrible tubes that extend and connect Zalem to the ground, the city pulls in the products of the manufacturing plants and the farms.

"They then dump all of their scrap and junk below, where it makes mountains of refuse. It makes the 'scrap yard' area of Scrap Iron City. It is that refuse, what they throw down to us, that the people of Scrap Iron City use as the basic materials to make things. And, it was where Ido found what was left of...me."

Ted Lawson tilted his head a bit forward. "Cyborgs, Gally? Are you trying to say...  No, are you saying that you come from a place where there are people whose bodies have been integrated with raw robotics? Are people there with artificial bodies, robotic bodies, like yours?" Joan gasped, hearing that.

"Ted, is that...?" partially asked Joan, looking at Ted in the armchair and pointing at Gally, the small being in the center of the living room. Gally grinned a bit, her eyes going to the ground.  Ted explained.  "Joan, Gally is a cyborg. That is not armor she's wearing. From what I can tell, that is actually her body. The joint-work, mobility, all of it looks and moves like some of the stuff that Jennings and I have only barely played with. I mean, Vicki's synthetic body is just..." Ted hesitated. Vicki, to the right of Joan, looked at her father. Not you too, thought Vicki, the relays in her mind's circuitry flickering. Who else is going to call me a robot?

"Well, Gally moves in a way that suggest extremely advanced mobility: range of movement and strength. I would say that she's quite a mover, could probably do one-handed somersaults and leaps. And from her mannerisms, I know that there's a real human brain in her artificial head," he finished, gesturing with a hand at Gally.

Joan's hands flew to her throat, gasping. "You mean, like Vicki, but with a human brain? That's a real girl, with a robotic body made out of...metal?" Gally's eyes were wide with interest at Joan's reaction.  Ted nodded for confirmation.  Joan looked again at Gally, looked her up and down. "Does it hurt, Gally?"

Gally looked at the carpet, spoke to Joan. "Joan Lawson, cyborgs do not have the sensitivity of feeling that full-flesh people such as yourself do. I have a sense of movement and can pick up vibration and contact with surfaces, something to do with the properties of my body's armor and sensor placement. But there is no pain, nor can I...feel anyone."

Gally unzippered the front of her bodysuit, down to her hard-flat abdomen to expose more metal. This is probably not good for Jamie's sexual development, thought Joan--the thought trying to hide the fear of what she was to see next.  Indeed, from the neck down, the female's body-surface ws a mechanical gray. Holding the halves of her bodysuit close, Gally spoke more. "I am all metal, my body just of machines. Without this body, I could not be alive. There have been times when I regretted being the way I am, especially when I try to come closer to people. But I am able to live on in Scrap Iron City. And my body allows me to continue my profession as a bounty hunter, my way of making credits. It is a berserker's body."

Joan had moments to mull over some of what Gally said. Ted put a hand to his mouth, in thought. His expert eyes were able to clearly tell that the female before him really was one with a metal body. All sorts of nuances told him that. But as for the tale of where--or when--she came from, that was different.

"Gally, why do you tell us here that you come from a different place and time? Professionally, at least, I can believe about what you say about...your body being artificial. But about being from the future? Quantum mechanics would make all sorts of dictates against that. I'm not really a particle physics man myself, but to say that you came from a time different from our own... How can that be?"

"Maybe it's not really important, Ted," said Joan, looking at the small and thin cyborg who exposed part of her metal body for evidence of her tale. "That she is here at all tells us something. The poor thing! We think that Vicki had a hard time of things getting used to the other kids. Reggie and Harriet were a real help eventually, but at least Vicki can pass for being...normal." Vicki's eyes widened. She really was getting two ears-ful of stuff tonight! It were as if time travel were not whacked-out enough.

"Okay, say that she is from somewhere in time. And for right now, I'll go along with a cyborg being pulled through time and space. But now I have to ask something else." Joan interjected. "You want to know why Gally is here at all." "That's it, Joany! That's exactly it!"

Gally pulled the zipper on her bodysuit closed, then placed her hard arms and hands at her sides. "I am here with Vicki to stop what cause so much trouble recently. Vicki and I both are here to stop someone called The Cloaked Man. Time travel was something needed to get me here and something that made Vicki seem to vanish. And travel through time is what The Cloaked Man uses to cause so much suffering in this time, in your time. He even adds to the annoyances in my own time."

"Gally's right, Dad," added Vicki. "There is an evil and really nasty guy called The Cloaked Man. I was told that he wants to make people extinct, because he believes that people should not exist. By causing trouble in the right places, he could make trouble forever, and make time really end."

Now, Ted was hearing it from Vicki! Vicki was not the only one getting two earfuls of junk from people. Even for Ted, someone with a gynoid for a daughter and with a cyborg in the living room, this was pressing it.
 
 

Ted felt split off from the scene before him. Already, the scene was whacked enough for him not to believe too much of what passed. Standing before the dead television, in the center of the room, was a short and strange being who claimed to be from the future. Intellectually, he believed that there was actually a cyborg standing before him. Her physical presence was proof enough. Also, hearing of her being from centuries into the future, that was another intellectual exercise.

The past two days were also days of madness he had to accept: the Brindles being attacked by professional criminals, Vicki simply vanishing, and a crook with a twisted fashion sense. Now, he was tempted to say what his wife said so many times before, the expression she used when his robotics talk was sometimes too overwhelming.

"A 'Cloaked Man,' you say?" began Ted. "You say that there is a time-travelling jokester that wants to make people extinct? That, alongside a short and skinny cyborg from hundreds of years into the future? Well... That makes sense...." Joan gave Ted a look, one that out of the corner of her eye. Yes, things were making plenty of sense to Ted now. What was next, sword-toting knights riding atop whales on a sunny day in the ocean?

Ted stood up, paced twice, then sat down in the arm chair, his eyes going to the ceiling. He stared up for some moments, contemplating the moment. Was this all too much? Maybe, this was just a cracked nightmare or dream of sorts? It was probably a dream in a dream, and he would most probably awaken with things quite normal.  Vicki looked at Ted, analyzing his emotional state as shown by his posture and facial expression. Her personality emulation programming, alongside her knowledge of Ted's behavioral traits, helped her analyze how he felt about this.

"Nope, it's not a dream, Dad." Ted's eyes snapped forward, looking at Vicki now on the couch. "I've been through all of this craziness. I thought that Gally was probably a dream, a hallucination or something. But then, I was actually in Gally's time." (Ted thought, You're really going to be reprogrammed now, young lady.) "For the moment, would you at least accept it? For now, could you at least pretend that this is real, Dad?"

In a way, Ted could accept part of it. But that intellectual part of him, the part that allowed at least partial acceptance of this collective madness of cyborgs and the future and such, needed more information. Maybe, he needed to know more about The Cloaked Man. But someone else needed information first So, he asked.

"I need to know about that Cloaked Man. Tell me what you can, Gally."

Gally spoke. "Doctor Lawson, I know that you hunger for plenty of knowledge about all of this. Also, if you yourself have a hunger for knowledge that insists upon being satisfied, then I will tell you what I can. But please, know that Vicki and I also require knowledge to fight The Cloaked Man." Gally more directly stood before Ted Lawson, then spread her thin alloy arms, hands also outstretched. "Let me begin."

And, she did. "As for what is important, I know that The Cloaked Man is the target that I have been assigned. The Cloaked Man is an enemy, simply put. Also simple is his desire to stop human beings. Vicki called him 'evil.' Vicki says that The Cloaked Man is someone 'nasty' and such. But, I see more than that in him.

"He is an opponent, Doctor Lawson. I am not sure if he is a worthy opponent, but his tactics lead me to questioning if he is." Gally brought her solid hands to her sides. "So far, Vicki and I have never directly encountered him. Instead, we have had to deal with the troubles he caused.  He hired some crazies in Scrap Iron City to bully and kill a couple.  Also, he probably hired the merceraries that tried to damage Vicki.  Simply put, The Cloaked Man starts trouble, then vanishes to let that trouble continue.  He likes to cause trouble that goes on without him being around to continue it. He is a very, very devious and troublesome opponent..."
 

Vicki's processors assessed the situation. Clearly, her "father" was not going to be of immediate help, needing so much explanation. Maybe, the newspaper had some information? Vicki leaned close to her "mother," then whispered, "I'm need to check the newspaper." Joan nodded, excusing Vicki. The, Vicki went into the kitchen as Ted questioned the small cyborg some more. She pressed open the swaying kitchen door, entered, then let it close.

Obviously, someone left the lights off. She stood alone in the darkened kitchen. The lights were off, and Gally's voice continued in the living room. Ted asked another question, and Gally spoke some more. Her eyes scanned left to right, then looked at what was on the table. Something stood out from the darkness.

It was probably a good coincidence that the Lawsons had taken to leaving the kitchen light off whenever the kitchen was not in use, probably also a good coincidence that the higher electricity rates at least put Joan into that habit. With the lights off, the newspaper on the kitchen table stood out. That was because it glowed with a pale white light of its own.

Continuing to just accept things, Vicki's logic would temporarily accept the existence of a glowing newspaper. She cautiously walked the two yards' distance to the kitchen table, then reached for the glowing newspaper. Vicki placed her hand on the newspaper, and a low grumble of thunder rumbled somewhere outside. Mr. Thunderhorse really could communicate across time -- if not being able to communicate directly.

She unfolded the paper, and looked over the front page. Nothing else seemed to come out. What was the point of this paper? Vicki turned to the second page, then saw that at least half of it did not have the freakish luminescence the rest of the page did. So, she turned on the lights to read what could not be read in the dark.

With the light on, Vicki read the headline that was obviously imporant to her--and Gally's--particular quest: "Strangely Dressed Man Creates Chaos in Quiet Suburb." Vicki read on. The other headlines were probably also with some importance, but this article was probably best to start with.

Today, a blind woman reported to police what was described as a "disturbing incident" by the neighbor that accompanied her. The previous night, the blind woman's home had been broken into. The home was broken into, yet the expensive alarm system set in place failed to go off. This was because, according to later information, the person responsible was "quite skilled in breaking and entering, or he could walk through walls," according to Police Captain Kemokai Striker. Captain Striker said that the perpretrator entered the woman's home and disabled her security system at the same time.

In disabling the home security system, the person responsible also damaged it. Repairs could take days. This is more true as insurance paperwork wraps up.

As said at the press confrence, the vickim was especially disturbed as the motive for the break in has yet to be fully ascertained. According to information released to the press, all that was missing was Quacker Oatmeal -- all of it. "I can't understand why anyone would want to steal my oatmeal. There was no reason at all!" said the victim, tears coming to her eyes.

The police captain said that detectives would continue to go over what facts they had and even searching FBI databases for known criminals with immature tendancies. "At least, the person responsible in in a questionable state of mental health:  He broke in and stole nothing else."

The police captain was able to tentatively identify the gender of the suspect, as witnesses described someone that could have been the person responsible. After the reported incident yesterday, some in the downtown district claim to have seen a strange man carrying containers .

He is said to be six feet in height, has a medium muscle build, and has a tan complextion -- probably from being outdoors. At the time, he was "strangely" dressed. The suspect wore thick-soled sneakers and presse slacks. For a top, he reportedly wore a tee shirt with a red cloth sewn to it. "It looks like a goofy superhero's cape, though he's no superhero," quipped another police officer. They believe the suspect is probably "insane," as he was laughing as he carried the goods purloined from the blind woman's home. If anyone has any information on this "caped man," they should call 777-STOP, which is the Crime Prevention Hotline. In the meanwhile, police keep a vigilant watch over the victim's home until the security of the blind woman's home can be reassured.
 
 

Vicki thought of the article. The Cloaked Man was obviously responsible for what happened. Those were his trademarks: the cape, the evil humor, and the desire just to be evil. How could anyone be so nasty and terrible---and live with himself? There was also Gally, that metal-bodied girl who had to live with herself, but she only acted the way she did for self-defense's sake. At least, they were in the right place and time to stop another one of The Cloaked Man's deeds.

The other articles were not so important, really. Another article told of a strange car parked downtown, one with an incinerator in the trunk and with illegally modified windows. Yet another article was an addendum to a previous front-page story, how the stolen oatmeal incident could be somehow linked to the assault on the Brindle's home. That, and police warned locals to add more caution to their daily routines. But what about the article about The Cloaked Man breaking into the blind woman's home? What could Gally and Vicki do about that?

Vicki's computers hummed with consideration of the circumstances. Why were Gally and Vicki brought here? The bad guys were gone, and The Cloaked Man probably vanished with the oatmeal. There should not have been any more "evil" around. All that was left was a troubled woman. She needed police around.

No, maybe that was it. A few more seconds, and Vicki's thought processes worked out the solution. As the blind woman needed police around, she was still a victim of The Cloaked Man's deed. After The Cloaked Man had stolen from her, he had also cruelly stolen the woman's sense of security. Stealing something as quirky and unnecessary as oatmeal was probably just for effect. In effect, The Cloaked Man was able to cause trouble that continued. To stop what The Cloaked Man did, they would have to undo the trouble he caused. Gally and herself had to help the woman, somehow. Why not help her pay for the security system The Cloaked Man disabled?

Vicki walked into the living room, holding the paper folded open to the second page. Ted looked past Gally, at Vicki. Gally pivoted her upper body and head, slightly pivoted, then looked at the artificial girl with the paper in her hand. Was that the 20^th century's equivalent of newsprint?

"Gally, I think I know what we have to do. And we're going to have to earn some money." Gally then completely turned to Vicki, and grinned. Gally's immense brown eyes glinted with something terrible. Vicki did not like that grin or the feral look in the small cyborg's large eyes. "And I don't think that it means violence." Gally shrugged, and her grin faded.

Gally's face relaxed into a look of curiousity. "Tell me what, then. Do we work in a factory plant to earn money, then?" asked Gally. "And how much of this money need we cache?" Vicki then proffered the newspaper to Gally. Gally took the paper, then read the article pertaining to The "Strangely Dressed" Man. She read it, then read it again.

"We need enough to restore this woman's confidence, then," she said. "Yet, I doubt that I could find my own cache of credits cached hereabouts." Ted Lawson's eyebrows went up in curiousity, as did the other Lawsons'.  Gally spoke again.  "Vicki, are there jobs of sorts around here? I mean, are there places where one can earn money, short of the bounty hunting you seem to detest?" Vicki said, "I don't know what's available. You'll have to turn to the 'classifieds' section of the newspaper." "Hmm, 'newspaper,'" said Gally in a low voice, her voice savoring the term for 20^th century newsprint. She found the "classifieds" section, then looked along the page. She came to something in the classifieds--and her smile was actually pleasant.

"Vicki, do you have much musical skill?" asked Gally. Vicki shrugged. "Once, Jamie, some friends and I had some silly band called The Electric Potatoheads. I played the keyboard." Gally tilted her head to the right, inquiringly. "It's an electronic instrument...  A muscial synthesizer." Gally understood "synthesizer; she understood synthesizers quite well." "I'm pretty good with it, though a bit out of practice."

Joan interrupted.  "Please, may I ask what you two plan on doing, or at least what Gally plans to do?" she asked.  Gally spoke.  "Mrs. Lawson, I meant what I said. That is, I'm here with Vicki to help deal with that Cloaked Man. By whatever means, I will undo what he has done.  Yes, by any means."
Vicki added, "And this time, undoing what The Cloaked Man did means helping the blind woman. I think that Gally has a job in mind, one that involves some talent that I haven't used for some time."

"For specifics, I believe it is truly time that I began to do something I have hesitated to do professionally. But, a person must adapt to circumstances as they come. It cannot be any less honorable than bounty hunting, at least," said Gally. Gally then showed Vicki the ad requesting entertainers for a local club. Ted first resisted the request that Vicki leave home so soon after coming back. But after some consideration, he thought that Vicki exercising her previous talents would be a better test of her skills. After all this was over, he could download her memory and work with it later. Or maybe, Vicki should not retain memories of this craziness after all...
 
 

At 9:00 a.m. the next morning, Dorothy's was doing a moderate business for a weekday afternoon. Dorothy's was a hangout for local high schoolers; Vicki and her friends sometimes visited. It was a well-done place, passably cool enough to make money. The place was once just an arcade, later converted to a club. Inside, it was a large dance floor -- with a dining area to one side and an area resembling a bar. People could dance, drink or just talk. The bar could serve hard drinks, but few were with the I.D. to get them.

Today, the somewhat portly and middle-aged owner himself was behind the "bar," occasionally talking to the kids that came. He asked about what they thought of the place and was able to get some information on possible talent. He was still seeking out local talent to cover for one of the entertainers -- who was out of the state on a temporary gig. But few knew much. There could be trouble: What was Dorothy's without the occasional live entertainment? Dorothy's would probably lose appeal if the lack of live entertainment went for long.

Then, a bouncer went behind the bar and whispered something to the owner. "Well, where are they?"

Two people came in, two girls.  The  odd and contrasting duo made their way to spare stools at the refreshments bar. He thought, those two look just freaky enough to bring in some fresh customers.  One of the two was about a head taller than the first and was dressed in cottony clothing: a fresh blue cotton blouse and blue jeans. Her outfit was completed with a cotton bow to hold back her dark hair. She carefully placed her carrying case on the bar, a complex keyboard inside. The short and thin one at her side was dark, dark and strange.

The small one had large brown eyes to go with straight and shoulder-length dark hair and strangely pale skin -- the hair flaring out from her head in a large corona that brushed her shoulders. Four feet tall, the smaller one was also clad in plenty of leather on this summer day: (synthetic) leather bodysuit that showed every lean and athletic curve, a leather jacket and leather gloves. The tight outfit seemed not to allow any breath, but the small and skinny one seemed barely mindful of it.  And wasn't she feeling hot, stifled in all of that "leather?"   (And Gally did not really mind; the temperatures of Southern California were more mild than that of Scrap Iron City.)  In the moderate lighting of the place, the two still looked...bizarre. And why did the short one wear so much leather?

The owner placed his hands on the bar before the two, then looked into the eyes of Vicki and Gally in turn. He then looked into Gally's eyes--the dollishly large brown eyes of the one completely done in leather. "Hello, and who are you two?" asked the owner. Vicki introduced herself, and Gally just gave her first name, "Gally." The owner thought it some sort of pseudonym, and just let it go at that. The club's owner, Mr. Victoir, also gave his name. Now, it was down to the business.

"Are you here for the gig?" he asked. "If you are, I'm not just looking for anyone." Though his tone was steely, there really was a despiration in his eyes. Gally could read that partially hidden despiration, but she stayed cool.

Gally lifted her head.  "No, we are not just anyone, not just random customers.  Yes, we are here for the...gig. And yes, we do have what you seek for now," she said. The large owner then looked at the one in cottony wear, the blouse and jeans. "That's not a body in that case, is it?" he asked. Vicki flipped open the multiple safety latches on the lid, then opened the case.  She showed the owner.  What is that?

Vicki's keyboard really was sophisticated. Her "father" worked for a company that was a partner to another electronics firm. And that partner firm sometimes gave gifts to employees' families. One of those gifts went to Vicki, a keyboard that would not be on the market for probably another year. That keyboard was now Vicki's, ready for more use.

The owner pulled his jaw back up, then delibereately narrowed his eyes to keep them from falling out of his head. He pointed to an area beyond the tables, a curtained area. "Okay, how's this? You two are going straight into action. Vicki, you can set up your amazing keyboard with the help of Jay here." Mr. Victoir slapped the shoulder of the lanky and tall bouncer at his left. "And Gally, what do you do?"

Gally said in a smooth voice, "I sing. With the pains of life and the seeking of beauty, I try to express it through the voice of my body." What, was that some sort of new-age beatnic lingo? "I try to sing beautifully, with effects on those that listen." The owner shrugged. "Okay, so go to it. If the crowd likes you, you'll get twenty-five dollars a night, plus a cut of the tips. Sound good?"

Vicki nodded, then Gally did. "And let's hope you two sound good! Get set up. And Jay, try not to make passes at them until after they try out." Jay turned to Mr. Victoir, tossed up his right hand in a mock salute, then marched off with the strange females.

They worked efficiently behind the curtained stage. Gally did not have any equipment to set up, and Vicki was very adept at setting up her electronic keyboard with the available equipment. Vicki positioned her keyboard at the side. Gally would take the center stage. As Jay and Vicki made final tests on the keyboard and the sound system, Gally cradled the microphone. She took in a breath, one through her armored throat and she shuddered. Gally prepared to sing for the audience.

About twenty minutes later, Mr. Victoire looked over the setup behind the curtain and asked a bit more about their "act." He was finally satisfied, and the two were ready to perform for an unsuspecting audience. He then moved out of the stage area.

The background "pizza" music stopped. Something was up. To confirm it, Mr. Victoir walked onto the stage arpon with a wireless microphone in hand, the curtain still down behind him. All fifteen or so teens at the tables turned their attention.

He spoke, loudly enough. "Hey, everyone! I'll say this quick. Jodie's out of town, as you know. But we managed to get some live entertainment anyway! And now, some two talented young ladies are going to try their skills. And maybe, you may recognize them from school? Anyway, everyone welcome... Guardians!"

There was polite clapping from the crowd, then Mr. Victoire walked quickly off-stage. The red curtains rose, and the two stood ready to perform. Vicki's fingers poised on the keyboard, her fingers in starting position. Her eyes were on the keys and not on the small and table-seated crowd. Small Gally stood with hair coming over her face, her head down. Many boys in the audience were drawn to what Gally wore -- and the girls thought Galy a bit bold. Was she too young to wear that leather, all over?

Another breath, and Gally brought the microphone close to her lips. Vicki pressed several keys, and a deep mournful note sounded from her keyboard. Gally began sweetly singing the words to "Exile," a song once sung by someone named Enya:

Cold as... the northern winds in December mornings, Cold is the cry that rings from this far distant shore. Win-ter has come too late too close... beside me.

There really was a deep effect on the audience. The voice in Gally's metal body was perfect, perfectly pitched and was the flawlessly smooth voice of probably an angel. Her voice was the most perfect soprano, especially since the last time-space warp that brought her here flawlessly repaired her body.

How can I chase away all these fears deep inside? I'll wait... the signs to come. I'll find a way. I will wait... the time to come. I'll find a way... home.

Everyone, save Vicki, was set to mourning. In Gally's singing, they all felt sadness into their souls. It was deep sadness that was exposed by the song, exposed by the sweet weeping of Gally's singing. Not a few tears hit the tables, and some even covered their faces. Gally finished the song, and Mr. Victoir would demand that they repeat their performance for at least the next week. Gally continued.

My light shall be the moon and my path - the ocean. My guide the morning star as I sail... home to you.