Main Menu

Jenny. Suzanne. Morrigan. Gods, those were the days.

The other three never trusted the Big E, you know. Who does? They knew he wanted out of the deal. They knew he was going to figure how to make it happen. They're quiet, biding their time, but they're no pushovers. Trust me. Try playing poker with 'em some time.

So they each chose one personal -- agent, to put it politely. Big E's got his cottles?, they had -- the sisters. Non-Familia operatives keep an eye on their interests. They didn't look like sisters, and didn't act like it, except when the lights were off and the absinthe had been flowing awhile. Jenny was a redhead, collar and cuffs, and had a disposition to match. Suzanne loved a party, and didn't care where she ended up eating breakfast. Morrigan -- well, you didn't want to cross her, but demonstrate your field stripping of a vortex blaster (including the damned solid state bits), and she was putty in your hands.

Like I said, they were sisters, at least to start with. That's what they told me, anyway. Or maybe they were made that way. I never quite knew what they were, except loyal to their bosses. Which is what did them in, in the end.

Most of the time, when push came to shove, they were on the side of the angels. Well, metaphorically speaking -- I don't speak for Heaven, and it sure the hell doesn't speak for me. But they were, if it means anything, the good guys. I was on the sidelines -- well, actually up to my armpits in Clockwork Men -- when they took on Zumm in 2018*. Some fireworks there, I'll tell you! It would have been love at first sight, if I hadn't been terrified of 'em -- and too busy dodging the damned PATH security goons shooting everything that moved.

They mostly worked undercover, though, pursuing their boss's interests. They didn't hit the big time until they went Moonside in 2049*, cleaning up after those M-critters? (and, yeah, I can pronounce their names, but why the hell should I? They're gone, too). The first moonrisen Zograscope message in three decades that didn't make you want to blow your brains out, and it was the three of them, a bunch of ugly critters with wings, and about five thousand Faerie spooks. You couldn't get bigger ratings if Lara Exquisite? stripped down and did a private Morse Message? show for everyone in the galaxy. Again.

Anyway, after that, they were media darlings. Not sure that's what their bosses wanted, but short of meming? them back to obscurity, there wasn't much that could be done. Jenny turned down a big recording contract, but Suzanne wrote a dozen best-sellers under a dozen pen names. Even opened a book store chain?. Morrigan did a stint in the Legion, which didn't work out well for either of them.

But they still had time to put a kink into some of the more lunatic stunts folks were pulling -- squaring Saturn's rings? (like the natives wouldn't take offense?), or digging a hole from China down to Hell with that Aetheric Mole Machine?, or the Great Bonfire? in 2247*, or that one brief moment in 2310* when they had to put down the last die-hards in the D-of-C (never trust a bureaucracy to cancel itself -- that's one of the few lessons of history you can take to the bank).

There were a hundred other missions they went on, not even counting going toe-to-toe with the Excrucians at Ultima Thule? or the Corelands Desert? or Vermillion(approve sites). Some I knew of, chatting over coffee or sharing a bottle or cigarette with one of them. Others I didn't. Some I'm pretty sure I didn't want'' to.

We eventually drifted apart. I had some ideas of some fun evening entertainment the three of them took offense to. Always had a kind thought in my heart for 'em, though, which was why --

Well, hell, they were good kids, mostly. But they were loyal to their bosses. And their bosses had their own ideas, not always what you and I might consider exactly nice. And when Vic took the last sit on her throne (and I'm not saying they had anything to do with that, but who knows, now?), and their bosses were busy taking things apart? (under orders of the once-and-future top dog), they got stuck with the scut work. Which meant doing some not-very-nice things? to a pretty nice (if occasionally stuffy) guy.

I never heard from them again after the Rollback. I heard they never made it out of Numbers' hideaway when the contrateleological warhead went off. I heard from someone else they were children of that era, memes before anybody knew the word, and vanished with its memories. And I heard from one guy, a rummy in Tashkent, that they just upped and quit (not the only ones, I'll tell you), and are still hanging out on Earth, doing good and righting wrongs and wrestling with their consciences.

And who the hell am I to argue with that? We've all got regrets.

In the end, though, all those regrets, all the things you did you wish you hadn't, all the sorrows and heartache and bitterness and guilt, it doesn't do you any good dwelling on it. The years roll on, and you better roll with 'em, or get run over. So wherever they are, wherever they all are, I wish them well. And when I think of them, I'll just remember the good times.

'Cause if you can't remember the good times, why the hell remember any of it?

SEE ALSO: Doktor Zumm, Macropterous Malacoids of the Moon?, Memetic Encoding?, Sanctity of Records?

Lexicon 500 WXYZ | Wooden Mechas? >

This is a W entry in the Lexicon of the Lost 500 Years.