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(Forward: TFM Headquarters. An office in a recently-converted warehouse, appropriately called the Warehouse. When this was a fully-functional factory, this space might have been considered the chief foreman’s office. It is from this second-story location overlooking the warehouse floor that the Boss sits and contemplates all that has led to this point in his life. Him becoming the defacto leader of the TF Militia. The monumental task of storing all the spoils of war within this new sanctuary. And of course the careful preperation that he himself put in to eliminating the operatives that stood in the way of his ascent to power. His desk polished, his new TF Militia Banner hanging proudly on the wall behind his desk...yes, the future looked bright indeed. Yet, in the midst of his reveling in his utmost of victories, the sound of a sudden knock at his door caused his good mood to turn to sudden dread. With the inexplicable feeling of history rushing up to meet him, he managed to croak out...) Boss: “Come in.” (And they did. Like the dead walking again, in came the faces of seven people that he thought he’d never see again, and with them, an old man, unknown, yet hauntingly familiar. He couldn’t imagine what this motley bunch wanted with him, but his shock quickly turned to panic as he reached for the gun holstered at his side.) Boss: “What..what is the meaning of this!? Stay back, all of you!” Boss(future): “Feeling as though the past is coming back to haunt you? Feel all your plans unraveling? Well, you SHOULD. It’s your fault that we failed in the future.” Boss: (deciding on who to point the gun toward, he points it at the old man speaking gibberish to him) “What are you talking about? What’s my fault? What are you talking about?” TurboMagnus: “You’re the one who set us up in that store in LA, man! I outta pop you for that!” Boss: “I assure you, that was no fault of mine. I thought you were right behind me. Thank Primus you made it out alright.” DeadPool: “Yea, right. No thanks to you. You left us to die, man!” Boss: “You can’t possibly pin your stupidity on me, or that bomb at Robozone. I had nothing to do with it.” Particle Man: “How did you know about the bomb? We didn’t have a chance to report in about it yet.” Boss: (visibly sweating) “I, er, have my sources.” Boss(future): “Yea, you sure do, when you did the dirty work yourself. I KNOW your secrets!” Boss: “What are you raving about, old man! You’re just trying to confuse the issue.” Boss(future): “Look at me. Look closely. Especially in the eyes. See the resembelence? Know anyone else with our eyes?” Boss: “But...how is this possible? Are you...?” Boss(future): “That’s right, I can see you understand now. A certain project you’re funding to develop farsight. Well, it succeeded. I’m you. From the future. And let me tell you, you screwed up. Badly. And I’m here to stop you.” Boss: “Stop me? Stop me from what?! If you’re really me, then you know that my plans will be a success. You’ve SEEN the future. Tell me what it’s like! How did we do?” Boss(future): “Too-well. We succeeded, allright, but it will be our undoing. The planet will be lost.” Boss: “Lost? The planet? From just us? But how?” Boss(future): “Because in our thirst for power, we killed off the great minds that were necessary to see us to the next crisis point! The entire planet will be destroyed by hostile aliens! And only I can stop them!” Zobovor: (whispering to the other operatives present) “Um, did I just hear him right? Did he just say that we’re going to be invaded by aliens?” Rachael: “Oh man, I knew this guy was loopy. Why did we bring him here?” Boss(future): “I can hear all of you! And no, I’m not crazy! It’s the truth, I tell you! And the only way to stop them is to build real transformers!” TurboMagnus: “REAL transformers? Sweet!” DeadPool: “Dude, did any of you notice how the old guy looks like the Boss’ dad?” Rjung: “Ah, the plot thickens.” Zobovor: “Chunky-style, apparently. Do you think there’s any truth to what he said?” Rachael: “The man tells us that we need to build giant transforming robots for real, to save the planet from aliens, and you want to know if he’s telling the truth? Duh!” Particle Man: “I don’t know about the rest of you, but I’m gonna grab this comfy chair, and let the Boss deal with the old man. How about the rest of you?” (The seven operatives nod to each other, then go to sit on the couches near the door of the office. They wait to see what happens between Boss(future) and the Boss.) Boss(future): “Yes, you heard me right! Giant transfroming robots. We’ll need a lot of them, scattered globally, in order to protect the planet! They’re the only thing that will stop the aliens in the future.” Boss: “If you think I’m going to listen to a crazy old man who barges in here telling me a story like that, and who then expects me to reroute TFM resources to such a ridiculous project...well, you’ve got another thing coming. I’m having you escorted out.” Boss(future): “I had anticipated that action on your part, so I brought this!” (pulls a small gun out of his pocket. The gun, amazingly, looks just like the one that the Boss has hidden in his hand.) “Recognise this? You should. We had it custom-made before we joined the organization. Coded only for our use. Not another one like it.” Boss: (a strange calm desending over him, as the shock wears off, and a realization sets in.) “So you were telling the truth. We made the wrong choices?” Boss(future): “Yes, we did. But I’m here to make it right. With me in charge of TFM, we won’t make the same mistakes we did before.” Boss: “With YOU in charge? But I thought..” Boss(future): (interrupting him)“Don’t you see? Only I can stop them!” I’ll call them Robots in Disguise. They will be my secret hidden force to stop these marauding aliens from destroying our planet. I’ll have the upper hand on them. The world will hail me as a hero!” Boss: “You’re foolish indeed if you think I’m just going to step aside and let you take over, just because of some poppy-cock story you concocted about a future that doesn’t even exist yet! Boss(future): (beginning to babble faster, a crazed gleam in his eyes) “Yes, you might have thought that. But we both know you can’t be trusted. You’ll take my information and then kill me. I can’t let that happen. You might make mistakes. Only MY vision can see us thru. So...Goodbye.” (The Boss(future) shoots the Boss with his gun. A gurgle, then silence, as the Boss slumps to the floor. A feral grin shows plainly on Boss(future)’s face, but only for a moment, as strange energies begin to gather around him.) Boss(future): “I have won! TFM will flourish under my rule!” Supermind: “You failed to consider something.” Boss(future): “What’s that?” Supermind: “You’ve killed your past self. With him dead, how will you exist?” Boss(future): “What? Why I..hey, what’s happening? Why is an energy vortex opening up? Are you doing this?” Supermind: “It is not us. It is you. And your undoing.” Boss(future): “NO! I will not let this happen! I have plans to make! Stop this!” Supermind: “We cannot. This is the end for you.” Boss(future): (his body begins to dissipate and grow transparent) ”It can’t end like this! I must live! Aeiiiigh!” (The glow grows intensely bright for a moment, blinding all those present, before it disappears completely, along with the old man. A small clatter is heard as the wristcomm containing the Supermind falls to the floor, the wrist once holding it up in existence no longer.) Supermind: “The timestream is now in alignment.” Zobovor: “What the hell was that?!” (A voice is heard from behind the group. Standing in the hallway, just inside the doorframe, is a man that everyone present knows quite well.) The Voice: “Perhaps I can answer that.” (The whole Group): “Futuristgroup!” Futuristgroup: “No need to be so formal. I’m only one person. You can call me Fred.” Particle Man: “Can someone PLEASE explain to me what just happened here?!” Rjung: “I could, but this isn’t my gig. I’ve got some trannies to tally.” DeadPool: “Dude, shuttup. I wanna here what he’s going to say.”
To be Continued! |
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Fred: “Gather around friends, and I will tell you a story of epic proportions.” (he walks over to the desk, stopping to pick up the Supermind off the floor along the way. He takes the chip out, and places it in his own wristcomm, in a second slot designed for the purpose. Another chip, identical in design, was in the first slot. After he places the chip in, he speaks to it.) Fred: “So there you are. I was wondering.” Supermind: “All is as it should be.” Fred: “Still, I’m sorry I couldn’t somehow save the rest of you.” Supermind: “The needs of the many outweighed the needs of the few. You saved most of us. And The TFM is back on track.” Fred: “Sigh. You are right, of course. Now, how do I explain it to them?” Supermind: “The truth helps.” Fred: “Very well.” (Fred sits down behind the desk. The seven operatives in the room pull the couches closer to him, not wanting to miss a word.) Fred: “Let me tell you a story. A story about the past, present, and future of the TF Militia.” “You see, it was all a farce in the beginning. Nothing more than a whimsical fancy of mine, of pen put to paper, and shared with others. The others liked it, and the TF Militia grew. Fans became operatives; fiction became reality. Our reality. What once we only dreamed of we eventually were able to do.” Particle Man: “Yes, this we knew. We were there when you posted your first fanfic. And I wore my first thong.” Fred: “er, yes, that too. But anyways, slowly, inexorably, as time passed and our membership grew, the philosophy of the TF Militia changed. Where once we were an organization dedicated to the collectors, and wiping out the evil dealers... we became an organization dedicated to itself instead.” TurboMagnus: “Yes! That’s when I first joined! Rock-on!” Rachael: “Will you pipe-down! Fred’s trying to talk here!” TurboMagnus: “Sorry.” DeadPool: “Dude, you got yelled at. Hehehe.” TurboMagnus: “Shutup, butthole!” Fred: “Anyways...the old system of guerilla attacks, and shared spoils, equal decision-making...became lost under a mountain of form and function. Oh, it was grand at first. Accepting people into our ranks with computer skills, organizational drives, and connections into vast business networks...it was a dream come true, of sorts. We were better able to infiltrate larger and larger targets. Our spoils increased.” Zobovor: “It was those connections that allowed us to get the big stuff, like those molds from the takara factory.” Supermind: “Don’t remind us. That was where one of our number died from his own stupidity.” Rjung: “I was there, man! Msipher, is that you in that little box?” Supermind: “One of our components holds the consciousness of that personality, yes. But we are more. We were once all of you in this room. Now we exist as only four distinct personalities: Msipher, TFX-1, Shaminos, and Lexicon.” DeadPool: “Sipher? TFX? Who were those folks?” Zobovor: “Those two were gone before your time, youngster. The other two were operatives in Canada.” DeadPool: “But why are dead folks talking to us in a box?” Supermind: “The result of a future technology that was developed shortly before we came back to assist the first time.” Rachael: “First time?” Fred: “I’m getting to that. As I was saying, as we grew larger, TFM carried out missions not just against the evil dealers, but against everyone, including itself. No one was safe. If you weren’t part of the organization, then you were the enemy. And even those within the organization who didn’t support the New Order were considered enemies. Special Operatives pitted against each other, with no one knowing the reasons, save one: The Boss. Rjung: “The dead, bleeding corpse that is lying in front of the desk that we’ve all conveniently ignored until now, you mean?” (everyone gives him a puzzled look) “Sigh. Some days, I don’t even know why I open my mouth.” Fred: “The Boss. He was an enigma in and of himself. No one knew his true identity. Not even me! Much less what his motives were. Somehow, to all the new people we took in, it seemed like he had always been in-control of the TF Militia. And he would have that belief furthered.” TurboMagnus: “What, you mean he WASN’T always in-charge?” Zobovor: “The kid catches on fast, doesn’t he?” Fred: “ Yet, as some of you original Special Operatives know, it was NOT always that way. There was a time when all were equal under the banner of TFM. Although those times seemed long past, they hadn’t been forgotten. And if those brave, first Special Operatives had anything to say about it, those pure times would begin again! They could do no less for the organization that they themselves founded, right?” Particle Man: “Preach on, Brother Fred!” Rachael: “Shutup. I think he’s getting to the good part.” Fred: “So they watched, and planned, and prepared for when they must step in and make things right again. To make pure that which had been sullied. To make the TF Militia stand for collector’s rights once more.” Rachael: “Sounds great. So what happened?” Supermind: “You don’t want to know.” Fred: “Unfortunately, their actions did not go unnoticed by the Boss. Slowly, but surely, he had the seeds of this rebellion dug out and removed from the organization. Many of you were part of that purge.” DeadPool: “WERE part of? You make it sound like it actually happened.” Supermind: “Actually, it DID happen. That was the future from where we came. Everyone in this room was dead.” Fred: “And no one seemed to be the wiser about their missing comrades, as The Boss had long made sure that all tf-cells operated independently of each other; sharing only what information he saw fit to pass along to each of them.” TurboMagnus: “Waitaminute. I’m dead? What a bummer! Now I won’t get to see the ruins! I won’t get to score with hot babes! This sucks!” DeadPool: “Idiot, you’re not really dead. You’re like, sitting right next to me.” Rachael: “If I have to tell either one of you to shut up again, you’ll never get to score with me.” (Both DeadPool and TurboMagnus shut up immediately) Fred: “And yet, was even His control so absolute? Was the organization as it once was doomed to die at the hands of this madman? Or would good rise up from the ranks and make right all those things that went wrong?” Zobovor: “Yes, we can! Er, can’t we?” Fred: “I couldn’t say. It was my job as head of security to oversee and prevent these kinds of things from happening, but I was unable to do so as things stood. The forces on both sides were gathering. The TF Militia would soon split and spiral into a civil war of sorts, with friend fighting against friend, all in the name of their ideals. What remained will be the New World Order, and it is that organization that would guide TFM for decades to come.” Supermind: “And in the end, failed. That failure was costly.” Fred: “If you listed to the old man, then you know who won. The Boss had anticipated all of your moves, and had countered them. Killed all of you. Despite my best efforts, I could not save you. For all I know, I might have perished in the struggle as well. I never did find out.” Rachael: (Interrupting Fred’s long story) “But wait? How could you know all this would happen?” Fred: “Ah, that’s the interesting part. With this.”(taps on wristcomm.) “This little device appeared on my desk one day while I was working on some policies for the Roundtable. A vortex opened above my head, and this device dropped out. And started talking to me.” Rjung: “Which of course you didn’t find at all strange.” Fred: “Oh, I thought it was strange all right. Especially when it started talking like the lot of you. I thought it was a prank until the things it talked about started coming true.” Zobovor: “True? Like what?” Fred: “For example, like when it predicted with stunning accuracy what the Boss was going to do next on a given mission. It provided me with details that it should not have known. The deaths of the first two operatives cinched it. So I learned to listen. And to trust.” Rachael: “Does this have anything to do with your usual handle, and e-mail addy?” Fred: “Good observation. Yes, that’s it exactly. With detailed knowledge of the future, and the ability to capitalize on it, I took the handle of futurist. Or futuristgroup, really, since I wasn’t doing it alone. When I referred to myself in the plural, I was telling the truth.” Rjung: “I always wondered how you kept getting the pick-3 in the lottery. Why didn’t you rack up more?” Fred: “Too-conspicuous. Winning a lot of money all at once would draw attention to me, and by default, to the rest of you. I only won small amounts, and at different times, just enough to pay the bills, and to continue living normally.” Particle Man: “I’m still confused. How did the box get to you? I thought that wristcomm was with the old man.” Fred: “It was. But it was with me, as well. I’m a little fuzzy on the details, but apparently it sent a part of itself back further in the vortex, a few years back from where we are now. Apparently, what the futureboss had was a reflection, an echo, while I had the bulk of it. Notice that my device has two slots, while his only had one.” Rachael: “I DID notice that! I had wondered why.” Zobovor: “So if you knew all of this, why didn’t you just take the Boss out right away, and let us operatives win hands down?” Fred: “It wouldn’t have worked, either. With the organization the way it was, sooner or later it would have come apart again.” Supermind: “The people that died to make us HAD to die, in the interests of long-term stability. Any one of them would have been an unstable element in future events.” Particle Man: “So neither side would have come out the winner?” Fred: “Unfortunately, no. As with every side of a story, there is always three sides: your side, my side, and the truth. the Third Truth. The hidden right, that no side seems aware of. It is from this middleground that we would yet see salvation for all sides, without the bloodshed that would accompany a civil war. It is from this third truth that one man would seek to save the organization that he helped birth, operating independently of both The Boss, or the other Founding Operatives.” Rjung: “You’re talking about yourself in the third-person perspective again.” Fred: “Sorry. It is the Third Truth that would bring both sides back from the brink, and make TFM strong again, with brother working with brother, instead of against him. What a glorious outcome that would be. And what a burden for the one man it must be, to know that it is all up to him.” Rachael: “You’re doing it again.” Fred: “Last time, I promise. But my point is, nothing was written in stone. The future is not set. Anything could happen. The odds were stacked against me. The outlook was grim. I had to rely on the Supermind to help me steer events to where we are now.” Zobovor: “Where are we now, exactly?” Fred: “Salvation. We’ve cleansed ourselves. The bulk of the bloodshed was avoided. I shared this vision of the future with only four Operatives: Shaminos. Lexicon, TFX-1, and Msipher.” Particle Man: “The four operatives who died.” Fred: “Correct. I let them speak with their future selves. Once they saw the end coming, and knew that they would yet somehow come back, they dedicated themselves to the reestablishment of the old ideals.” Rachael: “Msipher and TFX-1 both said the same thing when they died. ‘I will be avenged’. They knew, didn’t they? They already knew then.” Supermind: “Yes, we did. And we were right. We came back, and avenged ourselves upon the one who did this to us.” Rachael: “But why didn’t you tell the rest of us?” Supermind: “We could not risk throwing off events any more than they already were. Everything had to go according to a preset plan. It was the only way. Besides, how would the rest of you have felt, knowing you were going to die? Too-many variables. Things are now as they should be.” Fred: “Yes, The Third Truth. The dawn of a new era for the TFM.” Particle Man: “How so?” Rachael: “That’s easy. the Boss is gone, and the future is saved.” Zobovor: “And knowing what we do now, we can disband the major parts of the organization, and go back to what we do best.” Particle Man: (realization setting in) “Ah, of course! Hunting for the toys!” Rachael: “Taking out the evil dealers!” TurboMagnus: “And I get to kick some skidplate!” DeadPool: “And I get a gun!” Rjung: “And Fred can get back to writing the fanfic he likes, instead of going off on a tangent like he did.” (everyone stares at him blankly.) “Sigh. Why do I even bother?” (Everyone has a good laugh. It is an ending to be proud of, as now everyone can go back to doing what they like best: hunting for the toys! They file out of the office, and into the Warehouse, taking care to load up all the toys stored there, and divide them up amongst the collectors. And then, at last, the doors are shut and locked. The Warehouse, and all that it stood for, is left behind to gather dust, while the TF Militia rides high again.)
End Mission Log. |
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Postscript: The year is 2049. An abandoned warehouse is discovered by The Earth Alliance, formed when aliens found our planet and, to their delight, found Robots in Disguise. Befriending us, and negotiating with the intelligent robot life they found here called the Autobots, they invited us to join a transgalactic federation of beings. Were it not for these ‘transformers’, the earth would have been destroyed, as the TGF had no prior knowledge of organic-based intelligences. All they recognised were the mechanical and robotic life that they themselves were based on. One particular robot, and eight elderly human beings that helped create him, set the aliens straight. They enter the crumbling, abandoned warehouse. On the second floor, they find the bones of a human being lying next to a rotted desk. Above the corpse, a faded, dusty banner hangs at an angle. Scraps of broken plastic lie scattered randomly on the floor. To the robot, and the other Earth Alliance members, it is an uncommon, but not troubling sight. The eight elderly humans share a glance, but speak not a word. Satisfied with the sweep of the building, finding no one there in danger from the upcoming construction project, they exit the structure, and all watch as behind them the robot knocks it down with a single punch. This area will soon be the site of a monument to all those who helped bring about the glorious future that they now enjoy. A monument to the statesmen, the council members, the engineers...but really to a young band of rebels, dreamers, tinkerers, who one day grew up to shape events to the betterment of all. One day, people will visit this monument, and remember the dedication of those who came before. On the wrist of one of the eight elders, a worn, faded wristcomm speaks to them: “All is, as it should be. We have succeeded. Goodbye, my dear friends.” A tiny vortex opens up, and the wristcomm disappears. A single tear streaks down the face of the elderly woman in the group. The elderly man next to her, the owner of the now-gone wristcomm, puts his arm around her. Together, the eight walk back to join the rest of the Alliance group, and to a better future.) The end. Recommended reading: Hawking; Black Holes and Baby Universes Kraus; The Metaphysics of Star Trek
..and all of the other fanfics of mine that tie into this one! :-) |
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