Post by Alex Tamora on Jun 5, 2017 22:37:12 GMT -5
I wandered around my newly furnished apartment with a child-like sense of awe and wonderment. The mishmash of colors, fabrics, materials, and textures was an absolute assault on the senses. I loved it so much. The furniture back home was a lot like the living quarters, very austere and utilitarian. If it didn't have a purpose it didn't belong. I never thought I'd identify with abstract wall hangings so well.
I flopped into my favorite acquisition. An absolutely gigantic plush cushion that the sales person had called a 'bean bag chair'. It was large enough to fit three fully grown adult humans and covered in faux chinchilla fur. It was so soft, like sinking into a cloud. And when you make your living getting punched, kicked, and thrown around by men and women you learned very quickly to appreciate soft, comfortable things.
As I sank deeper into the chair, I marveled at just how far I'd come in just over two months. In just a few days, I was competing in the semi-main event of one of the biggest shows, not just in PCW, but in all of wrestling. I thought back to the people I'd faced to get here, most of them would go on to become legends within the business and I'd had the honor of facing them during the golden age of PCW.
S.A.M, Hiroshi Yukio, High Tide. These were men that would dominate the business for years to come but for now they were still finding themselves. I let my thoughts drift towards what was still to come. Well not what, but rather whom. Kyle Shane and Non Compos Mentis. Just thinking about it was enough to get my heart racing
Kyle Shane had taken the PCW by storm. He’d only been in the company six months but he’d already made his mark, winning his last two Pay Per View matches, the second one against Olivia Xavier for the Underground Title. Underground Champions tended not to last long in PCW, it was the nature of the business. Shane had already lasted longer than most and showed no signs of relinquishing his grasp on the title anytime soon.
Even with all of his success in the tournament, Shane was still putting his title on the line. Not in our match mind you, but earlier in the night against Hiroshi Yukio. My body ached in remembrance of the beating I’d taken at his hands. I’d managed to win that match in the end but only because Kyle Shane had intervened. As much as I looked up to Yukio, both for the honorable man he was and the champion I knew he’d someday become, I was in no hurry to get back into the ring with him.
Kyle Shane apparently was. He’d spent weeks egging the giant on, interfering in his matches and assaulting him on several occasions. So at Living a Legacy he’d agreed to put his title on the line in and Underground match before facing off against NCM and myself. I wouldn’t go so far as to classify it as suicidal. It wasn’t a sane move but it was most definitely a Kyle Shane move. That kind of tenacity, that ability to put his own well being second would serve him well in the future. He was a legend in the making; he just didn’t know it yet.
Not everyone I faced would go on to become a legend. Non Compos Mentis, for example, would not become a legend. He already was one. He’d held the North American Championship a mind boggling five times, maybe more. I honestly stopped counting after the third or fourth time because at that point he’d already held it more than anyone else; which was to say nothing of the other titles he’d won in the long career. He’d held the World, Tag, and Genesis at one time or the other. There might have been an International reign thrown in there as well, I honestly couldn’t remember so long was the list of accolades.
This wasn’t his first time tasting the finals of the tournament either. He’d actually won at Living a Legacy two years ago, defeating Mr. Showtime in the main event. Prior to that night he’d competed in four previous editions of the Icemann Invitational. This year marked a record setting sixth time competing for the trophy.
Mentis was what everyone who laced up a pair of wrestling boots should aspire to be; at least as far as his in ring work went.
“Alexandra?”
My eyes popped open as I was snapped out my inner monologue. Quincy had assumed his holographic form and was floating six inches in the air. He looked agitated. The fact that my neural AI was worried was enough to worry me, even before I knew what was wrong.
“Quincy, what’s wrong? Is it the ship?”
The hologram shook its head, “Negative, the ship remains intact and the cloaking device is functioning within acceptable norms.”
I breathed a sigh of relief, “Okay, well that’s good. So then is the data reconstruction finished? Can I finally see our little voyeur?”
“Negative, Alexandra,” he answered, “the data is still reconstructing and it will be some time before I am able to repair it. Given that we are working with extremely limited resources it’s a minor miracle that I am able to reconstruct the corrupted data at all.”
I groaned in annoyance, “I don’t have time for twenty questions, Quincy. Spit it out.”
“You have only asked two questions and as a neural interface unit, even in holographic form I am incapable of expelling saliva.”
I threw a pillow at him. Of course seeing as how he wasn’t actually there and rather a three dimensional overlay that interfaced with my ocular implants it didn’t actually do anything. Rather it sailed right through him and bounced off the wall.
“It’s a saying you malfunctioning scrap heap, it means,” I paused, “You know what, never mind what it means. Just tell me what’s going on.”
“I’ve been running temporal scans every cycle in between monitoring the ship’s remote diagnostics and reconstructing the security data. There seems to be several instances in which the flow of time appears damaged.”
“Wait, damaged, what do you mean damaged? How is that possible?”
The AI glared at with me stern consternation, “Alexandra, the very fact that you are here in this time period is enough to cause damage. In making your presence known as you have you’ve left a substantial temporal footprint.”
“Oh c’mon, it can’t be that substantial. It’s not like I’ve been going around telling everyone I’m from…the….future. Oh shit.”
“Your expletive is most appropriate. Consider time as a stream of water, what you have done is akin to throwing a very large rock into the middle of it. I am still trying to ascertain the extent of the damages you have caused; it is possible that your ‘rock’ is large enough to permanently alter the flow.”
I felt the blood drain from my face. Permanently altering the flow of time was considered a crime of the highest order. There was no trial, there was only punishment. You’d be stripped of your augments and gene-locked, preventing any future augmentation. If you survived that process, and most didn’t, you’d be sent to The Beyond.
Nobody actually knew what The Beyond was. It was the closest thing our society had to a boogey man. The most pervasive rumor was that it was a penal colony outside of time itself. There were things that lived there, old things. Things older than time itself.. At least that’s what the rumors said.
“No, that can’t be correct, Quincy. If I’d damaged the time stream I’d have Seekers breaking down my door; I’d have been dragged off in stun cuffs weeks ago. As far as anyone knows I’m playing a gimmick. I’m just a quirky girl with a wild imagination that found a way to do what she loves while play acting a ‘Time Traveler’.”
“Who won the 2017 Icemann Invitational Tournament?”
“What?”
Quincy looked at me pointedly, “It is a simple question, Alexandra. Who is the winner of the 2017 Icemann Invitational Tournament?”
I shrugged, “How should I know? The match hasn’t happened yet.”
“No Alexandra, the match has happened. It happened hundreds of years before you came into existence. I will ask again, who won the Icemann Invitational tournament in the year 2017?”
“Okay, Quincy, I’ll humor you. In 2017 Whitey Ford defeated Non Compos Mentis and Kyle Shane after he pinned Kyle Shane. He used his guaranteed title shot five months after winning to defeat…”
“My point, Alexandra, is that Whitey Ford is not currently facing Non Compos Mentis and Kyle Shane. Therefore he cannot pin Kyle Shane to claim victory.”
“Yeah but, he’s facing Grimm for the World Title,” I offered lamely.
“Yes, because the time stream is attempting to correct itself, I have yet to ascertain if it will be successful.”
“So I should just give up, quit everything and go live in the warehouse with the ship until we find a way to fix it?”
“To put it succinctly, yes, however as I am connected directly to your cerebral cortex I already know that you won’t. All I can do in that case is advise you of the best course of action and hope that you heed my advice.”
Quincy was correct in that I wouldn’t go into hiding; it wouldn’t hurt to listen to his advice though, “Okay, where do you suggest I start?”
A holographic scroll materialized in the air next to him, unfurling with a dramatic swoosh, “I’m glad you asked, Alexandra. I have several selections that I believe will help minimize your impact on the time stream.”
I sighed, of course he did.
*********************************
Another place and time
*********************************
Ton Ryder enjoyed his post. The university produced several hundred promising graduates each year, each vying for one of the few available spots offered at the Chronis Institution. He’d been one of sixteen to survive to the final rounds of the hiring process two years ago. Since then he’d been named as Doctor Tamora’s personal assistant, a fine posting indeed.
Ton placed his hand against the biometric scanner and waited for the machine to read his DNA profile. The door slid open with nary a sound, the lab beyond as silent as a tomb. The early morning silence was shattered as his personal belongings clattered to the ground. He reached up and pressed a thumb to the communications tab worked into the collar of his lab coat.
“This is Ton Ryder, assistant to Doctor Tamora; alert the Doctor and alert security, the Aeon has been taken.”
I flopped into my favorite acquisition. An absolutely gigantic plush cushion that the sales person had called a 'bean bag chair'. It was large enough to fit three fully grown adult humans and covered in faux chinchilla fur. It was so soft, like sinking into a cloud. And when you make your living getting punched, kicked, and thrown around by men and women you learned very quickly to appreciate soft, comfortable things.
As I sank deeper into the chair, I marveled at just how far I'd come in just over two months. In just a few days, I was competing in the semi-main event of one of the biggest shows, not just in PCW, but in all of wrestling. I thought back to the people I'd faced to get here, most of them would go on to become legends within the business and I'd had the honor of facing them during the golden age of PCW.
S.A.M, Hiroshi Yukio, High Tide. These were men that would dominate the business for years to come but for now they were still finding themselves. I let my thoughts drift towards what was still to come. Well not what, but rather whom. Kyle Shane and Non Compos Mentis. Just thinking about it was enough to get my heart racing
Kyle Shane had taken the PCW by storm. He’d only been in the company six months but he’d already made his mark, winning his last two Pay Per View matches, the second one against Olivia Xavier for the Underground Title. Underground Champions tended not to last long in PCW, it was the nature of the business. Shane had already lasted longer than most and showed no signs of relinquishing his grasp on the title anytime soon.
Even with all of his success in the tournament, Shane was still putting his title on the line. Not in our match mind you, but earlier in the night against Hiroshi Yukio. My body ached in remembrance of the beating I’d taken at his hands. I’d managed to win that match in the end but only because Kyle Shane had intervened. As much as I looked up to Yukio, both for the honorable man he was and the champion I knew he’d someday become, I was in no hurry to get back into the ring with him.
Kyle Shane apparently was. He’d spent weeks egging the giant on, interfering in his matches and assaulting him on several occasions. So at Living a Legacy he’d agreed to put his title on the line in and Underground match before facing off against NCM and myself. I wouldn’t go so far as to classify it as suicidal. It wasn’t a sane move but it was most definitely a Kyle Shane move. That kind of tenacity, that ability to put his own well being second would serve him well in the future. He was a legend in the making; he just didn’t know it yet.
Not everyone I faced would go on to become a legend. Non Compos Mentis, for example, would not become a legend. He already was one. He’d held the North American Championship a mind boggling five times, maybe more. I honestly stopped counting after the third or fourth time because at that point he’d already held it more than anyone else; which was to say nothing of the other titles he’d won in the long career. He’d held the World, Tag, and Genesis at one time or the other. There might have been an International reign thrown in there as well, I honestly couldn’t remember so long was the list of accolades.
This wasn’t his first time tasting the finals of the tournament either. He’d actually won at Living a Legacy two years ago, defeating Mr. Showtime in the main event. Prior to that night he’d competed in four previous editions of the Icemann Invitational. This year marked a record setting sixth time competing for the trophy.
Mentis was what everyone who laced up a pair of wrestling boots should aspire to be; at least as far as his in ring work went.
“Alexandra?”
My eyes popped open as I was snapped out my inner monologue. Quincy had assumed his holographic form and was floating six inches in the air. He looked agitated. The fact that my neural AI was worried was enough to worry me, even before I knew what was wrong.
“Quincy, what’s wrong? Is it the ship?”
The hologram shook its head, “Negative, the ship remains intact and the cloaking device is functioning within acceptable norms.”
I breathed a sigh of relief, “Okay, well that’s good. So then is the data reconstruction finished? Can I finally see our little voyeur?”
“Negative, Alexandra,” he answered, “the data is still reconstructing and it will be some time before I am able to repair it. Given that we are working with extremely limited resources it’s a minor miracle that I am able to reconstruct the corrupted data at all.”
I groaned in annoyance, “I don’t have time for twenty questions, Quincy. Spit it out.”
“You have only asked two questions and as a neural interface unit, even in holographic form I am incapable of expelling saliva.”
I threw a pillow at him. Of course seeing as how he wasn’t actually there and rather a three dimensional overlay that interfaced with my ocular implants it didn’t actually do anything. Rather it sailed right through him and bounced off the wall.
“It’s a saying you malfunctioning scrap heap, it means,” I paused, “You know what, never mind what it means. Just tell me what’s going on.”
“I’ve been running temporal scans every cycle in between monitoring the ship’s remote diagnostics and reconstructing the security data. There seems to be several instances in which the flow of time appears damaged.”
“Wait, damaged, what do you mean damaged? How is that possible?”
The AI glared at with me stern consternation, “Alexandra, the very fact that you are here in this time period is enough to cause damage. In making your presence known as you have you’ve left a substantial temporal footprint.”
“Oh c’mon, it can’t be that substantial. It’s not like I’ve been going around telling everyone I’m from…the….future. Oh shit.”
“Your expletive is most appropriate. Consider time as a stream of water, what you have done is akin to throwing a very large rock into the middle of it. I am still trying to ascertain the extent of the damages you have caused; it is possible that your ‘rock’ is large enough to permanently alter the flow.”
I felt the blood drain from my face. Permanently altering the flow of time was considered a crime of the highest order. There was no trial, there was only punishment. You’d be stripped of your augments and gene-locked, preventing any future augmentation. If you survived that process, and most didn’t, you’d be sent to The Beyond.
Nobody actually knew what The Beyond was. It was the closest thing our society had to a boogey man. The most pervasive rumor was that it was a penal colony outside of time itself. There were things that lived there, old things. Things older than time itself.. At least that’s what the rumors said.
“No, that can’t be correct, Quincy. If I’d damaged the time stream I’d have Seekers breaking down my door; I’d have been dragged off in stun cuffs weeks ago. As far as anyone knows I’m playing a gimmick. I’m just a quirky girl with a wild imagination that found a way to do what she loves while play acting a ‘Time Traveler’.”
“Who won the 2017 Icemann Invitational Tournament?”
“What?”
Quincy looked at me pointedly, “It is a simple question, Alexandra. Who is the winner of the 2017 Icemann Invitational Tournament?”
I shrugged, “How should I know? The match hasn’t happened yet.”
“No Alexandra, the match has happened. It happened hundreds of years before you came into existence. I will ask again, who won the Icemann Invitational tournament in the year 2017?”
“Okay, Quincy, I’ll humor you. In 2017 Whitey Ford defeated Non Compos Mentis and Kyle Shane after he pinned Kyle Shane. He used his guaranteed title shot five months after winning to defeat…”
“My point, Alexandra, is that Whitey Ford is not currently facing Non Compos Mentis and Kyle Shane. Therefore he cannot pin Kyle Shane to claim victory.”
“Yeah but, he’s facing Grimm for the World Title,” I offered lamely.
“Yes, because the time stream is attempting to correct itself, I have yet to ascertain if it will be successful.”
“So I should just give up, quit everything and go live in the warehouse with the ship until we find a way to fix it?”
“To put it succinctly, yes, however as I am connected directly to your cerebral cortex I already know that you won’t. All I can do in that case is advise you of the best course of action and hope that you heed my advice.”
Quincy was correct in that I wouldn’t go into hiding; it wouldn’t hurt to listen to his advice though, “Okay, where do you suggest I start?”
A holographic scroll materialized in the air next to him, unfurling with a dramatic swoosh, “I’m glad you asked, Alexandra. I have several selections that I believe will help minimize your impact on the time stream.”
I sighed, of course he did.
*********************************
Another place and time
*********************************
Ton Ryder enjoyed his post. The university produced several hundred promising graduates each year, each vying for one of the few available spots offered at the Chronis Institution. He’d been one of sixteen to survive to the final rounds of the hiring process two years ago. Since then he’d been named as Doctor Tamora’s personal assistant, a fine posting indeed.
Ton placed his hand against the biometric scanner and waited for the machine to read his DNA profile. The door slid open with nary a sound, the lab beyond as silent as a tomb. The early morning silence was shattered as his personal belongings clattered to the ground. He reached up and pressed a thumb to the communications tab worked into the collar of his lab coat.
“This is Ton Ryder, assistant to Doctor Tamora; alert the Doctor and alert security, the Aeon has been taken.”