I just realized… Roger introduced me to the cafe. I had been wandering the City for a while, but never stopped there. Roger had me sit with him.
Why do I have the idea that Roger knew about Jill the entire time? And his over the top reaction was a test to gauge mine? Holy subterfuge, Batman! Just how long has this intrigue been going on! Fuck!
It’s my dreams, but I’m the one dumped into mid-season awareness.
I gotta check my archives when I get home. The Envoy dropped the first time he saw me was during Roger’s awakening. Which would place him inside a certain building.
All this time, I thought Roger was a mercenary trying to get in with a few of the factions within the City. But if the Envoy knew and approved of Roger beforehand, (and a few other redacted things), then Roger is the Envoy’s game piece.
So… last night’s dream that happened in the sudden lull between fits:
I’ve been conscripted into the military! Yay! Fuck. I know computers so I’m assigned to an information processing department. Here’s my workstation. Here’s my assignment: Using the workstations, take this input data and process it. Take the printouts to the next unit upstairs.
Boring as fuck.
I deliver the first batch. I didn’t check to see how it processed. I didn’t even look at the data. Not my job. I didn’t even close the door behind me when more brass than an antique store burst into my office.
“What the fuck is this shit!” The general waves papers from the stack I just delivered. “Are you trying to be court martialed? This shit is not funny!” He throws the papers at me.
As I pick them up, I glance at the words. “… kiss me and I will kiss you back.” “… only one thing. I may lack in strength but I know so much more …” “… tip as pretty and smooth as a melted candle …”
“Sir… poetry?” “YES! DAMNED KIDS’ POEMS!” I tried hard not to laugh.
“This isn’t funny! I’ll have your spine for this! Where is the processed data!” I handed him the gathered stack. He slapped it out of my hands and cocked back for a punch.
“Hey, got your next batch. Any idea… oh… um… Hi. Sirs.” The soldier arrived with the next batch of incoming data. The general grabbed me and threw me into my chair.
“Process this. NOW!”
With the entire upper echelon watching, I did. I loaded the unbound sheafs into the automated scanner. The scanner imaged each page. The workstation processed the image, translating it into human readable data. The printer printed the translations. My total involvement was loading the scanner and the printer, clearing paper jams, and delivering the end result.
An aide took the first translated sheet and read it out loud. “Sit with me at lunch my dear. I have a seat to keep you near. And don’t you worry, don’t you fear. I’ll kiss away each racing tear.”
Everyone in the room cringed. The general pulled the aide aside and began pulling out pages at random. He didn’t read them aloud but threw them down in disgust.
“What did you do!” I shook my head. “You tampered with it!”
“Sir, it’s sealed. I can’t access it, whatever it is. All I can do is load these, gather those, and clear paper jams. That’s it!”
The other officers agree. I’m just a paper-girl. The general is furious. He starts to explode about ‘the operation’ but realizes I’m still in the room. “Get out! Get out of my unit! Get out of that uniform! You’re fucking useless and your existence is probably why this all went to shit! I don’t want to see you EVER FUCKING AGAIN!”
He rips the unit and branch insignia off my top and personally manhandles me out of the room. As other soldiers escort me outside, we overhear an aide asking, “All the source data is like this. Maybe the translator…”. Another voice speaks, one I don’t recognize, “No. The translator is not at fault. We identified the wrong sources, that’s all.”. “What about her?” “She knows nothing.”
I start to remember who I am, where I am. I try not to give it away but my gait changes slightly. One of my escorts notice and tazes me in the neck.
I woke up fitting.
Need help. Send Morpheus.