Harmonics: Rise of the Magician

  *****

  The Professor read the note from CJ. Warrick had dropped off the mini-drive and had been in his office next-door ever since. The Professor scanned through the files looking for anything of interest. Some of the comments and notes were very insightful to the work the Professor was doing. He had implemented many of the previous suggestions CJ had sent him and the results had been very good. Other notes were very benign, helping the Professor understand the inner workings of MESA's systems and procedures. These too were helpful, but in a different way. The only downside of reading CJ's notes was that it only increased the Professor's desire to sit and chat with him about their work. He felt that they could accomplish so much more if they weren't reduced to this back and forth messaging.

  That's why CJ's last line about being consumed by his latest iteration was so frustrating. Warrick had said the same thing earlier. Still, the Professor had his doubts. Something about the messages from CJ lately had been off. He couldn't quite tell why or how. The reality of it was that he had only met the man a small time ago, and their subsequent interactions had been limited and brief. Still, the Professor felt a connection between them, a budding synergy almost. He hoped that Jameson felt the same way.

  Boxed In

  Time: About one month after the attack at the shopping center

  Scene: Chem lab, Academy City 676

  "There's just something about you, isn't there?"

  Sam sat alone in the chem lab, lounging at her table. It was lunchtime and she was starving, but she didn't want the company of her friends in the lunch room. The small tin box sat on the table before her. She touched the cool surface. "I wish I could at least make sense of one thing in my life."

  Involuntarily, Sam touched the place on her chest where less than a month ago she could have sworn she had been shot with some sort of projectile. The experience had not only left her with nightmares of Rob and his band of slavers, but also with visions of locked rooms and hospital beds, chains and wrist restraints, all accompanied by an overwhelming pain. She didn't know if the sensation was in her head or if it was real, but the ache festered within her, joining the myriad of questions that weighed heavily upon her mind. No answers were given or received. No relief could be found. She was left with the pain in her body and mind, and blood in her tears. Now that scared her.

  On the night of the attack she had awoken to find herself in her own bed. Impossible. Comical, even. There was absolutely no explanation for her waking up in bed, but she did, pj's and all.

  The questions were starting to eat at her. The one thing anchoring her sanity was the fact that she didn't experience it alone. Cammie had been there, had witnessed the events of the night, but even that connection was starting to feel hollow, like they were both hallucinating. Cammie's story was similar to hers, but with slight variations. Cammie awoke not in her bed, but in her bathtub, as weird as that sounded. Cammie didn't like to talk about the events or the weird aftermath, but Sam couldn't get it all out of her head, partly because of Cammie's unwillingness to discuss what had happened and partly because of her own real or perceived isolation. She sat and wondered contemplatively, alone in a room, asking herself the same question.

  How had she and Cammie survived?

  Those men, human traffickers that catered to the plantation owners of the Burning Plains, were trained professionals. Ex-military, if Cammie's information was to be believed. There isn't any reason that she and Cammie should be here today, and yet they were. They were here, alive and in one piece, like nothing had ever happened. And what about that security guard? Did he really save them? If so why not say something, get some sort of reward? It just didn't make any sense.

  Sam pulled a water bottle from her bag, took a long drink from it, and eyed the silver box sitting complacently upon the table. If it wasn't one question it was another. The box was just as frustrating as her nightmares, maybe more so because of its tangible presence. Basically, the box pissed her off.

  Sam placed her bottle on the table next to the box. She picked it up gently and held it closely in her hands. She closed her eyes, enjoying the quiet.

  Soon the weight of it became more noticeable, but not burdensome. It was comforting to a degree. Ahh....yes, it was the peaceful feeling right now. She had missed this one.

  The situation confused her. She couldn't leave the box alone and couldn't explain what it did to her. Sometimes she felt at peace when she held it, like she had connected to a deeper part of herself. At other times, she couldn't help but feel fearful, angry, or irritated. The emotional continuum changed frequently, but also stayed consistent. Different feelings came at different times, but always the same range of emotion, if that made any sense.

  Sam didn't know why these feelings always came when she held the box, but they did every single time. Then there was that incident in her room, the night of the attack. It was like the box had been a magnet and her hands metal, which was absolutely mystifying. Now she was wondering if her hands sticking to the box had even happened. It hadn't happened since. Perhaps it was all in her head.

  Sam opened her eyes to stare at the box. What was so special about it? Why did it make her feel this way? Why couldn't she bring herself to tell her friends about it? All these questions continually plagued her, but if there were answers to be found she didn't know where to look.

  A distraction came as a message flashed across her screen. It was from Cammie. Sam reluctantly tucked the box back into her bag and scooped up the tablet.

  Have you made up with Dick yet?

  Sam typed back. No, not yet.

  OMGWB, it's been almost a month! He can't still be pissed because you lied to him.

  You obviously don't know Richard very well, and I don't think he's really pissed about the lying anyway.

  Is it about Adam?

  No, I don't think so. Haven't seen much of him either.

  I noticed. What's up with that? Why hasn't he been around?

  Who knows--I haven't talked to him.

  Coda's been MIA as well. He's been skipping to spend time with that skank, what's-her-brick again?

  Lacey, and stop pretending you don't know.

  Whatever. The point is, what is going on with our boys?

  "Samantha, what are you doing?"

  Sam looked up from the conversation as Richard walked into the room. He looked haggard; a far cry from his usual haughty self. Sam didn't care, though. He had just spoken to her! She was going to take advantage and not ruin the moment.

  "Would you believe that I was doing homework?" she said, covertly slipping her bag under the table.

  A half smile formed on Richard's lips. "You were talking to Cammie, weren't you?"

  Sam giggled slightly. "Yeah. She was just wondering about you."

  "Well if that isn't the logical quandary. Cammie expressing an emotion beyond the insatiable need to shop. Amazing."

  Awkward silence settled upon the two. Richard's trademark wit felt comfortably familiar, and yet the punchline didn't have the same impact. His delivery was off slightly.

  "What's wrong, Rich?"

  "Don't 'what's wrong' me. I'm still not real happy with you, that's what's wrong."

  Sam nodded her head. So that's what it was. He's still hadn't forgiven her.

  "Richard, I told you I was sorry. I promise I will never lie to you again. Can you just stop? Please? Just stop."

  Richard studied her. "You promise you will never lie to me again. You promise?"

  "Yes, I promise," answered Sam quickly, feeling that she was finally getting somewhere with him.

  "I'm serious Samantha, no more lies."

  Sam paused ever so slightly. This was really important to him, she knew that much. She wasn't sure why, but if her promising and meaning it was the only way to get Richard back, then she would do it.

  "I promise you, Richard, that I will never lie to you again."

  "Ok," stated Richard matter-of-factly. "Then you are for
given."

  "Really?!" Sam's face broke out in a huge grin. "You're going to stop acting all weird now?"

  Richard nodded.

  Sam wanted to do a back flip right then and there, but was reluctant to believe him. "Really? No lecture? No telling me how I don't think, and how you're right and I'm wrong, and that I was stupid for not going home when I should have, or for listening to Cammie? Nothing?"

  Richard scoffed. "I've prepared remarks. If you like, I'd be more than happy to lecture you for the next couple of hours."

  "No! That's ok. I'm just surprised you let me off the hook so easily." She smiled. "You must have missed me."

  Richard shrugged. "It was about that time, and there is no way that I missed you."

  Sam bounced out of her chair and threw her arms around him. "Well I missed you, Rich!!"

  "Yes, yes, throw our arms up in the air. Huzzah for the long awaited reunion." Richard gave another half smile. "Shall we, my dear? The lunchroom awaits."

  Sam beamed, ran over, and grabbed her stuff. "Oh, I thought you'd never ask!"

  As they walked side by side to the lunchroom, Sam felt alive again. Richard was talking to her! He had forgiven her for lying to him about being home that night. She was elated. Her doubts still gnawed at her, but she felt only passing concerns, conversation points instead of true problems. Still, she needed to focus. She now had the chance to ask the question she had been waiting to ask Richard. She took a deep breath; for some reason she was nervous.

  "So, now that we're talking again, I need to ask. Did you check up on me that night?"

  Richard leaned into her, moving over so he could get out of the way of some oncoming students. "Now, of all the questions you could have asked after our long anticipated reunion, you choose that one? I wonder why. In answer to your query, no, I did not. When I say I'm going to be somewhere, I'm generally there."

  Sam rolled her eyes. "I told you I was sorry Richard, and you already forgave me. You have to let it go now; that's how it works."

  Richard contemplated this. "Really? That's how it works?"

  Sam nodded.

  "Well that certainly seems unjust, but to each his own, I suppose. I appreciate the lesson on social mores. Please continue. "

  Sam started up again. "So I told you how Cammie and I were attacked by those human trafficker guys, right?"

  "Yes, I think you may have mentioned it, Samantha," answered Richard sarcastically.

  Sam stuck her tongue out at him but continued. "So I told you I got shot and right after passed out?"

  "Is this also a social convention? That people have to rehash events in a highlight-reel pattern of story telling? Because if that is the case, I might have to teach a seminar on the proper way to analyze a sequence of events."

  "Here's my point, jerkface, so you'd better listen. After I passed out, I mean, when I woke up, I didn't come to on a slab of cold cement outside Mega Lots Shopping Center. I woke up in my bed. In my bed, Rich. I was even wearing my pajamas."

  "So someone undressed you? They saw you almost completely nude?"

  Sam's face went scarlet. "That's what you got from that story? That someone saw me naked. Focus, Rich. I'm telling you that someone knocked me out and then took me home, dressed me, and put me in bed."

  "And in the process saw you naked."

  "Why aren't you focused more?"

  "Why aren't you more concerned? I would be if someone had the misfortune of seeing me naked. Then again..." he looked Sam up and down, "I suppose that seeing you naked would be a far more desirable experience than seeing yours truly."

  Sam punched Richard's arm.

  "Ouch! What was that for? Totally uncalled for."

  "It was for talking about me naked and not even blushing. I'm pretty rockin' in the buff; the thought should at least make you pause."

  "I see. If the occasion of discussing your personage au-natural ever again presents itself, I will try to act more appropriately."

  Sam smiled and said mockingly, "And people say you have no social skills. Now come on, I'm starving. Let's go get some food."