Hang Time | Stateswoman Missing >

[SCENE: Corner office, overlooking the central plaza of Steel Canyon.]

"This all looks fine Jenkins, let's move on."

"Yes sir. The red file, there, on your left?"

[Paper shifting. Flipping.]

"Why am I looking at a legal transcript from an accident at Orion Research?"

"Sir?"

"This is dated almost a month ago, and more to the point Crey doesn't hold controlling stock in Orion. It's not our concern."

"Well, not officially, sir, but --"

"Why am I looking at this, Jenkins?"

"Ahh... the... the young visitor to the lab that was involved in the incident."

[More page flipping.]

"You're taking up my time with a pizza delivery drone with --"

[Page flip.]

"With a GED and two semesters of community college?"

"We believe he may have acquired some of the Orion research material, sir; research we requested."

"Which project?"

"The ahh... the Nova Project, sir. The nanites. That was the containment breach mentioned."

"What idiots. Very well, have we acquired the body?"

"There... isn't a body, sir."

"Matter dissolution?"

"No sir. He survived exposure. The subjects in controlled lab environments didn't survive exposure. It's very exciting."

"I'm sure you're tingling Jenkins, but keep it to yourself. He's being watched, yes?"

"Yes, sir. We've engaged surveillance to watch him since the accident. He's left both of the jobs he was holding at the time."

"Where is he now?"

"That's ... really the interesting thing, Sir. If you'll just come over to the window, here. Right. Now, down at base of the statue... next to Positron and Valkyrie?"

"Oh, blast."

"He's been quite successful, sir. Also, we've been able to take a number of readings during surveillance. Here are the numbers."

[Page flip.]

"Should we recruit him, sir?"

[Page flip.]

"No. Continue surveillance. If he remains an ignorant street hunter, we'll consider him a field-based test subject until that's no longer useful."

[The older man watches the brightly colored figures move across the plaza below. It is not the first time he has done so, and not the first time he has been reminded of an ant farm he had as a boy.]

"If he becomes a problem, we'll dispatch a team to recover our property."

"Yes, sir."

"I assume the Orion staff were terminated?"

"Per protocol, sir."

"Excellent. Right. Next topic."

---

Random notes recorded using the 'voicemail' mode on HT's comm unit:

"Sapper? What's a -- HOLY HELL!"

"Dude, seriously? You guys need to invest in some tic tacs or something."

"How in the hell can I take a 'Button Man' seriously?"

"You don't have *any* other leads besides Tsoo? At *all*? Dude..."

"You have to admire the Council Fitness Program. Your fascist drug-running money hard at work for a better you."

"Actually, Dark Astoria is kinda coo- -- HOLY HELL!"

"This is your brain on superadine... and that's your ass on the sidewalk. Any questions?"

"Inkman? Seriously? Your culture goes back to pre-history and that's the best you could do? Inkman?"

"Dude. Blaster. BLA. STER. *Why* are you running?"

"Man, these Crey medic guys look soooo familiar. Weird."

---

[SCENE: An office, overlooking Blyde Square, Steel Canyon.]

"Sir, I have the reports you asked for on our Nova Project survivor."

"We talked about this a week ago, Jones. More, actually."

"Yes sir. The specifications for the operation required that the subject be at one of the city hospitals for medical care; he hasn't been."

"For over a week?"

"Yes sir."

"I thought we'd leaked the location of the Clockwork King to his contacts."

"We did sir. It didn't have the desired result."

"Hmm. [papers flipping] Something finally put him in reach, I see."

"Yessir. We found him convalescing at the Astoria complex and took readings before he regained consciousness. The subjective amount of missing time was minimal."

"Ahh."

[pages flipping]

"These numbers are promising. I'd like to run a CT when we have another opportunity; see what we find."

"Yes sir."

---

Hey Mom,

I know I usually call, but things have been really busy lately and usually, when I've got two seconds to myself, it's either way too late or way too early to call.

So I'm writing. (Betcha didn't know I could even do that, didja.)

Anyway... I know you guys used to get the Paragon Times delivered out to the farm, just to keep tabs on how things were going, and Dad mentioned awhile back that you were getting a dish and were thinking that you might get the local channels from my neck of woods, just so you could see what the weather out here was like, and to keep an eye on what's going on, but I figure that might have all been Invasion-talk, because you were worried.

I mean, I don't know if any of that ever happened, so I don't know how much you're up to date on out this way.

Like I said, things are pretty busy. There's just a whole lot to catch you up on, and I don't really even know where to get started.

(series of doodles)

You know how I used to be afraid of heights?

(several other lines scratched out entirely)

You know, I think the best thing to do is -- there's another envelope inside the one this letter's in, and there's some news clippings and pictures in it. I guess you'll probably be able to pick me out if you squint a little and aren't laughing too much.

Lots of stuff's been going on.

I don't want you to worry about me. I'm doing what Dad always said I should do and surround myself with folks smarter'n I am (it's not like that's very hard to do, right?), and they're basically keeping me pointed the right direction.

I know Dad won't probably like it.

I'm sorry about any problems that folks knowing my name will cause back home, but that's the way these folks I work with... that's how they play ball, is all. That's how it's done. We don't hide.

You always said you wished I lived some place where there was some family around to watch out for me.

There is, now.

I'm okay. I feel good. I think I'm doing good.

Love you both,

Jason

Hang Time | Stateswoman Missing >