Misadventures in Section -- The Beta Board

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Date Posted: 16:17:14 03/22/04 Mon
Author: Madison
Subject: Misadventures in Section

So, I'm looking for some more feedback. Be as brutal as honesty requires, please. Thanks heaps in advance!!!

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[> Misadventures 7 -- Madison, 16:19:52 03/22/04 Mon

�James, we�re lost.�

�Erika, we�re in a parking garage,� James said. �And, ahhhh, look out for that post!�

I swerved to miss it.

�Would you please look where you�re going? You dented the last one we were in, and I really do not want to explain why you�re going through Section automobiles like they are Birkoff�s licorice,� James grumbled. �And don�t think I don�t know about that. How many times have I told you that your insistence on eating massive amounts of his junk food is impeding your training?�

�Would you chill out? It was your genius idea to teach me how to do this and now you have to pay the price. Now, can we please find someone who can tell us how to get out of here?� I asked.

�No, we�ll find the exit.�

�Typical man. Never ask for directions.�

�Just drive the car.�

That�s right, you read correctly, I was using my time sans martial arts to learn how to operate motor vehicles, and it was not going as expected. Or well, for that matter.

�Erika, ERIKA!! Jae-sus! You almost hit that car! You�re lucky there aren�t any people around.�

�Well, everything in this place is black. How am I supposed to be able to tell the difference between the cars and the posts?�

�They�re all stationary objects! And the lights are on. Do you need your vision checked?�

�Oh, I need Section docs poking around my eyes like I need a hole in the head.� I cringed at that the second it left my mouth. James also cringed slightly. Holes in the head are not things one jokes about in Section. �So, can we turn on the radio?�

�NO! No distractions. Just drive the car.�

I groaned inwardly. I had been pathetically deprived of pop culture, despite my overwhelming knowledge of the current world political situation. I carefully braked and rounded a corner.

�Would you slow down?�

�I did. Honestly.�

�Not enough. You can�t go around corners like that at 49 kilometers per hour.�

�Well, this whole metric thing has me all confused. I mean, can�t everyone use miles and cups and inches? It�s so much simpler.�

�Erika, less talking, more watching the road. Wall!� I swerved again and missed the wall by a few feet. �That�s it. Stop the car.�

�But, I totally saw that coming, I had it under control,� I promptly protested.

�No, you didn�t. Now stop the car,� James almost yelled.

�Fine, but will you let me find someone who will get us out of here?� I stopped the car and put it into park.

�No, you�re not permitted to leave this parking garage,� James said. �I�ve never been more frightened for my health in my entire life, Erika.�

�Well, I�m a frightening driver. Have I ever told you about the time I tried to drive a go-cart?�

�About a million times, all in protest to learning to drive a real car.�

�Oh, I soooo told you so.�

�Get out of the car, please.�

�Ok, but I told you this was a bad idea.� I got out of the car, walked over to the passenger side and climbed in. I slammed the door shut. James gently pulled the door closed, and looked at me like I was insane.

�You need to learn how to do this. It is not an option. But first, you need to drive slower and be much more careful. Your recklessness is not encouraging.�

�I get it from my mother�s side. The whole lot of them are speed demons.�

�Indeed.�

�Now, would I lie to you, James?� I asked mockingly.

�Yes. You lied three hours ago about working on your German outside the tutorials.�

�Well, did you really want me to tell the truth?�

�Your lack of dedication to that language is exceptional.�

�I need to be exceptional at something,� I said bitterly and bitingly.

�No, you need to be exceptional at everything,� James said tersely. �Listen Erika, if you don�t dedicate yourself to learning German, you are going to have an even harder time with Russian.�

�RUSSIAN! But they have all those funny letters.�

�And you think German is difficult. You know, some trainers make their material start with Cantonese. I�m being nice.�

�CANTONESE! Like, with the one Asian-looking character per word deal!�

�Or Japanese. They have three different alphabets.�

�And I�ll be expected to know all that if I learn German? I don�t think my brain has enough room. But look, there�s the exit sign.�

�I told you I�d find it.�

�And there was no one to ask. Fine,� I grumbled. I got out of the car and back into the elevator that would take me back into the bowels of Section. James followed me after neatly parking the car and we stood in silence while we traveled downwards.

�Hey Honey!� Walter greeted James and I when the doors opened at the bottom. �How�d the driving go?�

�Don�t ask,� we both said.

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[> Misadventures 8 -- Madison, 18:01:18 04/21/04 Wed

�So, I hear you did not take to driving as well as we�d hoped,� Madeline said in a voice that almost sounded amused.

�Not exactly,� I said, carefully pouring milk into my tea and avoiding her eyes.

�Yes. Well, it�s something to work on. Perhaps you can devote some more time to it now that your numbers in munitions have come up.�

�Er, maybe,� I said. �But James mentioned something about shipping me off to German boot camp�� I realized I shouldn�t have mentioned anything about German, from beer to bratwurst to Berlin, in front of Madeline. I felt all my nerves crumble as her eyes darkened.

�James is right. Your numbers in German have been consistently less than satisfactory,� Madeline said darkly. I swallowed hard. �However, I did not ask you here to scold you about your performance in German. I understand that tomorrow is your sixteenth birthday.�

I jerked my eyes up, and spilled a significant amount of tea into my saucer. �It is!� I exclaimed, realizing that I had completely lost track of the date. �Right, I�ll be sixteen.�

�And it�s also getting close to seven month of training for you, isn�t it?�

�It�s been a while,� I said vaguely. The thought of my stretch of time underground in Section made me miss my family, and what I�d be doing for my birthday. Sweet Sixteen. A small party with just my family, spaghetti and cake. And presents. Cards would come from my aunts and uncles, some with money and some with funny foreign stamps: the usual. It wasn�t very exciting, but it seemed that it would have been the most wonderful thing in the world�

�In any event, we�ve arranged a gift. Tomorrow, you will be allowed outside of Section, under James�s supervision, of course�.� Madeline began.

�Outside of Section? As in, like, outside? Sunlight? Snow?� I excitedly interjected.

�Yes, all of that. So I suggest you choose an appropriate outfit for the weather. It will be below zero tomorrow.�

�Celsius or Fahrenheit?� I asked, feeling rather suspicious.

�It will be negative ten Celsius tomorrow, but sunny. I�ll take you to wardrobe presently to choose an outfit,� Madeline got up and I followed her out of her office and through numerous hallways to wardrobe. It was a warehouse-like room, with racks and racks and racks of clothing in every color, cut, style, and size imaginable. Wardrobe was nothing short of the dress-up box from heaven. Madeline led me to a smaller rack near the front. �I�ve chosen a few things I think will help. Take your time, but you need to meet with James before dinner.�

�Madeline, why are you being so nice to me?� I asked as she turned to leave.

�You�ve been doing good work, despite almost wrecking two automobiles and your rather dismal German proficiency, and you deserve a vacation. Happy birthday, Erika,� she said, not unkindly, and then she left me to make some choices.

I tried everything on the rack. I ended up with a dark denim pencil skirt, a chocolate brown cashmere turtleneck sweater, some brown leather boots (the knee-high kind with a tall heel, ones my mother would have never let me near) and a cherry red fitted wool coat. I chose a cool silver watch and a pair of what looked like diamond studs and necklace: my first jewelry in a long time. With sunglasses and a matching bag, I thought I looked quite grown-up and sophisticated (even if I slipped up in the heels on occasion). But I changed back into my Section-garb (a neat pair of pants and blouse: both black) and carefully put my new, colorful, outfit into my quarters.

I was so giddy with the prospect of leaving of Section I couldn�t sleep. I stayed up half the night, trying to remember as vividly as possible how sunshine felt. When I grudgingly got up at five for my morning workout, I was dazed with sleeplessness and excitement. I blindly put on my running shorts, and had to change my shoes three times because I was putting them on the wrong feet. I staggered out the door and found my way to the track. I started to stretch and watched the other recruits and operatives while they ran. James ran around the bend of the track and slowed so I could join him. I had just made it to five miles the week before; which was a big deal after seven months work.

�What are you doing up? I thought you were going to have a sleep-in this morning,� James asked.

�What! I don�t have to be here?!� I stopped dead in my tracks on the track, starting a bit of a traffic jam.

�Madeline didn�t tell you?�

�No,� I said angrily. �Was anyone? Why didn�t you last night?�

�I thought Madeline told you.�

�Duh,� I said. �Can I go back to bed now?�

�No, only because you now have to explain to all these people why you�re holding up their workouts,� James said.

I turned around and faced the small crowd of about ten people standing behind me. �Uh, sorry folks. Little bit of, um, miscommunication. I apologize for any, uh, inconvenience this may have caused,� I said sheepishly. I then turned around and began to run as fast as I could down the track, as a small penance. And to avoid getting pummeled by an angry mob of operatives, but I hoped they might have forgiven me. James ran after me. We ran together for two laps, and then I started walking. It was less than expected usually, but I reckoned that since I wasn�t supposed to be there that morning, I could take it easier.

�Hey, Erika, we�re done,� James said to me.

�Oh, right,� I said, somewhat startled.

�You were in quite a reverie just then.�

�I didn�t sleep well. Too excited,� I said.

�Well, go get ready. You have an hour, and you need to see Walter, OK?�

�Yeah, no problem.� I checked my watch. �I�ll meet you at egress at seven-thirty?�

�No, I�ll meet you at Munitions at seven-thirty.�

I nodded and ran to my quarters. I took a little extra care in getting ready. I combed my hair into a nice barrette, instead of forcing it into a haphazard lump on the top of my head. I brushed mascara over my eyelashes and pink gloss over my lips. I polished my nails cherry red. I dressed, making sure the seams of the skirt were straight and the sweater was lint-free. In my tall boots and tailored coat I felt and looked older, but I also felt like I was playing dress-up. It felt fake, but I ignored the feeling and spritzed a bit of spicy-sweet perfume onto my neck.

�Wow! Honey, you are looking sweet,� Walter said as I walked into Munitions.

�I am too young for you to be saying things like that to me,� I playfully scolded him.

�You�re getting older all the time, Honey.�

�Listen, you dirty old man, I won�t even be legal for two years and then, well, you wouldn�t even have a chance. Wish me happy birthday?�

�Happy birthday. I wish I had something for you now, but I understand you�re getting quite a present from Madeline and James.�

�Yeah, a one-day-only get out of jail free card. Which I understand, you have things to give me.�

�Honey, I doubt this is a get out of jail free card. Nothing in Section is ever free,� Walter whispered scornfully as he fussed with a few gadgets on his table. �Here, your wallet, loaded with a credit card and ID. Today you are Erica Johnson, American, eighteen years old.�

�Helps to make me a legal adult. But I can�t pass for eighteen, no way.�

�Sure you can, but only if you don�t get into too much trouble. Your babbling can be a dead giveaway, so keep your yap shut. And here is your cell phone; do not lose it. Press three for three seconds, and you�ll be routed to James.� Walter said, suddenly all business. �If you press seven for three seconds, you�ll get routed directly to Birkoff. Only use it if you�re really in trouble. Like you�re ambushed by terrorists, or you�re caught in a hostage situation. But, you really shouldn�t run into that.�

�I shouldn�t think so,� I said, both skeptical of Walter�s worst case scenarios and terrified that he might be right.

�Hey Kid!� Birkoff said, as he entered Munitions unexpectedly. �Happy birthday!�

�Thanks, Birkoff. You know, I am, like, older now. Can I not be �Kid� now?�

�No chance,� he said. He lowered his voice. �Heard you are going out. Listen, be careful. This is all a little out of the ordinary.�

�How much out of the ordinary?� Walter asked, eyebrow raised.

�Doesn�t a first-year trainee being let out of Section set of alarms to you?� Birkoff said.

�It has. Is there anything strange on the Intel? Because I haven�t noticed anything.�

�Not really, it�s just strange. Maybe you should take a rain check on this one, Kid.�

�No way! I�ve been stuck in here for seven months. I�m going nuts, and now I have the chance to see some sunshine and I get my parade rained on because you two have a funny feeling? I don�t think so!� I exclaimed.

�Erika��

�No. I�m getting out of here. James is going to be with me. I�ll be fine. If you get Intel that I�m going to be attacked by terrorists, text me,� I said briskly, grabbing my cell phone and wallet and jamming them into my bag.

�Oh, this can only end badly�� I head Birkoff say to Walter as I stormed off. I ignored it; I was getting out, no matter what.

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