Beta Model (Matt Mason)

[jemmus]

Mason wondered if the kid was somehow in on this weirdness, of if he was just being a precocious little jackass. Well, Mr. Derg, you're in for some New York, USA, Earth fun and good times, he whispered. He'd call Shirley first, then Randal and Harlan later. He paid his bill and headed out onto the street.

[Grognardsw]

Major Mason called Shirley on his vid-watch.

Shirley was a stewardess for Pan-American Jetlines. She was a real go-getter, a globe trotting girl who knew her way around a cockpit and could mix a mean astrotini.

“Hi Matt! Back in town honey? You’ll have to tell me all about your last mission over drinks.”

As Mason left the diner and made his way downtown, he heard the whisper again:

“Stay off subways tomorrow between noon and one-fifteen!”

Before heading over to Shirley’s that evening, Mason checked in at his business administrator’s office to make to make sure his paychecks, bills, insurance and other paperwork were in good order. As an astronaut explorer away for months at a time, the space bureau assigned him an administrator to handle the paperwork of life while he was gone.

“You’re in good shape Matt,” said Mr. Wells, an accountant by trade. “All accounts current and insurance policies up to date. Any new charitable contributions you’d like to make?”

“MIT is still waiting for your answer on doing a guest lecture on alien world science.”

“Any questions?”

As Mason was waiting for the elevator down from the 7th floor, he heard the whisper in his head: “The elevator will get stuck between two floors for three hours! Take the stairs.”

[jemmus]

Mason follows the voice's advice. He can't confirm that it saved him from something bad by avoiding the chicken. And he may not be able to confirm what it said about the subway and elevator. But it saved him from the careening truck, that he knows.

Yes, send $50 to the USAF Veterans Widows and Orphans Fund. And another $50 to the USAF Veterans Unwed Mothers and Illegitimate Children Fund.
I can speak at MIT after my next mission. By then it should be good and hot outside and the co-eds might be wearing shorts and tank tops.
I've got my eye on a P-51 Mustang WWII fighter plane. In great shape, almost completely functional. $99,999 price tag, plus around$15,000 in renovation. I'd like to fly it a couple of years, then sell it for a profit, or at least. Could you let me know how feasible that is? And also the cost of hangar rental.

He stops at a liquor shop and gets a nice bottle of Merlot to take to Shirley's place. He has to ask the staff for a recommendation, because he's more of a gin and tonic and whiskey sour man.

[Grognardsw]

"Certainly, we'll look into the plane and hangar costs," replied Mr. Wells.

His business completed, Mason walked to the elevator bank to go down. One elevator door was wide open, the shaft exposed. Sounds of workman echoed up the shaft. A man in a gray flannel suit stood near Mason.

"Glad I didn't take that on my way up," the man said. "It got stuck!"

Later that evening, Mason with his bottle of merlot stood at Shirley's door.

The astronaut had bought a bottle Pahlmeyer Napa Merlot 2099, which the clerk had said "has a blockbuster nose of crushed blackberries...Full-bodied, rich, concentrated and with firm, velvety tannins, the palate is a hedonist's playground with a spicy finish that just goes on and on." Much like the clerk's description.

The door opened to a smiling Shirley...

"Darling..."

[jemmus]

Shirley, Shirley... she was looking more lovely-- and hotter-- than ever. A year of traveling and maturing had done her well. She seemed so much more-- confident. Sophisticated.
Mason was a little overawed. Hello, Shirley, he says with with a prepared shy smile and a twinkle in his eye. He gazes around at the revamped decor of her apartment, her hairstyle, her choice of clothes, honestly impressed. He doesn't make it all the way down to her shoes, he got hung up somewhere along the way.Beautiful.
Really beautiful. I really like what you've done. He looks at her again, with another twinkle in his eye. Well, as best he can. He's been in space quite a while, and has had an alien sharing his thoughts all day. And a little punk kid watching him and messing with him in a diner.

He presents the bottle of wine to Shirley, and waits for her raving ice-breaker commentary, and follows her in and gets settled onto the couch where she wants everything to take place. "This is going to be so good," he thinks, watching while Shirley bustles and makes a show of carefully saving the bottle of somewhere for use in the near future. Yes, the near future... the near future....

Then, Mason remembers the Valusian Derg. He looks at his telecom wrist device, holds it to he mouth, and says Roger, copy that. Yes, I know I'm an initiated ghost doctor of Telus. What? What? Our they in trouble. Need help? Well, I'm on leave right now, don't you know? He nods to Shirley and mouths Sorry, BRB and goes onto the balcony and shuts the sliding glass door.

Mr. or Ms. Valusian Derg. You are about to observe an event which you may perceive as dangerous or risky. Coitus of a human male and female. Strong emotions might overflow. Thoughts of doing these things again, retiring from other activities again, procreating, retiring from the entire world may happen. These are just normal risks. I repeat, these are just normal risks! Do you copy, Mr. Valusian Derg?

Mason listens in, eager to slide the door back into Shirley's main room. He sure does hope the Valusian Derg stays in his own place and doesn't eff it all up.

[Grognardsw]

Mason enjoyed the balcony views of New New York while he appealed to the Valusian Derg.

"Acknowledged!" The whisper somehow rose from his throat while being heard in his head too.

Mason rejoined Shirley, who had mixed his drink and sat on the couch with him. X minus five.

They talked, caught up, laughed. X minus four.

Mason's adventures thrilled Shirley. X minus three.

Appetizers were served. Hands grazed. X minus two.

More drinks flowed. X minus one.

Then...

Blast off.


Mission accomplished.

The Valusian Derg was silent.

What's Janx doing?

[jemmus]

Mason bid his good-byes to Shirley and made his way home, whistling a happy tune. That was enough action for one night. Tomorrow he'd call up the boys for a good meal and some bar-hopping or whatever else they might come up with. One thing about New York, there was always something to do.

Blastoff! Here's the "blastoff" scene from Dr. Strangelove. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=moa5pVCXeyk Posting Janx now.

[Grognardsw]

Mason walked home, breathing in the fresh recirculated air of New New York.

"Loose grating on West End Avenue between Sixty-Sixth and Sixty-Seventh Streets," the sub-vocal whisper whispered. "Don't walk on it, it'll collapse."

Once he got used to it, it gave Mason a feeling of security. But the derg soon became overzealous on his behalf. It began finding more and more dangers.

"Look out for an overhanging sign on the Hotel Nationale!" Mason wasn't familiar with that particular hotel in the city.

The next night, Mason met up with Randal and Harlan at the Comet Lounge.

[jemmus]

The zerg might be getting a little overly cautious. If it was worried about a sign over the Hotel Nationale, what would it worry about during a test flight? Or a blast off? Or opening the hatch and entering the little-known situation on an alien planet? "Well, come to think of it, it might be pretty useful there," Mason thought.

Mr. Derg, he whispered, We're about to do something that inherently involves some risks. We're about have some gin and tonics, whiskey sours, and maybe some highballs. If we don't keep Harlan under control, the waitress might bring a tray of shots too. All of those decrease a person's aversion to risk. They let you lighten up and blow off some steam after your work. Don't worry, it's normal behavior for humans.

Also-- after that, walking around and looking for another interesting place to spend some time is also low risk. The place will probably full of strangers that no one knows, but that's OK. In fact, that's good, because we might meet and have a chance to... interact with women whom we'd otherwise never have gotten to interact with. Because of the noise or otherwise, we may lose contact with our friends Randal and Harlan along the way. That also is not a matter of concern. The next day, or the next, we'll check in and confirm Roger Wilcos.

He has an afterthought. It's impossible to find a toilet in Manhattan. Leaving anywhere without going to the restroom first is a real risk. If you see me doing that, I'd appreciate a reminder.

Mason moves along, ready for a night of formation regrouping, shared strategic debriefings, and execution of unit members' individual tactical missions. Roger that, he whispers, and chuckles to himself. Don't worry, Mr. Derg! You are going to have fun tonight!

[Grognardsw]

The cautious Matt Mason advised his Valusian Derg about certain Earth customs and that night's possible dangers. The derg appreciated these insights into a new culture.

Later that evening at the Comet Lounge, Harlan and Randall were happy to see Matt. They drank and exhanged stories about their latest travels. Harlan was a roving reporter the Associated Planets news service, and Randall an engineer at an aerospace firm.



The Valusian Derg was thankfully quiet, no doubt closely observing local customs.

Harlan and Matt got to chatting up two girls who worked in advertising.

The night turned into a weekend with Talia, and before he knew it Monday rolled around. Matt found himself reporting for test flight duty.

[jemmus]

Test flights were something that Mason looked forward to. They were thrilling, and they looked good on the Form G-1450 Service Record Report. I least that's what he told himself, to push back the dread and the very rational fear. You were literally trusting your life to what a committee of engineers thinks will take off, fly, and safely land-- based only mathematical calculations. As pilots' saying went, "One thing's for certain, your spacecraft always lands. Whether in one piece or not." And then their the technicians who built the thing. You had to just hope that they didn't install a crucial component when their heads were in the game. Not on a Monday morning or a Friday afternoon, or while hungover, or dealing with the bank, a teenage pregnancy, car trouble, etc. etc. He hadn't forgotten at the Protek and how it had nearly caused asphyxiation on Telus. That was a beta model. This craft would be an alpha model.

For the first time, he had to admit to himself that he was kind of glad to have the Valusian derg onboard. But if he were in the derg's shoes, he'd probably say, "Don't get into the prototype." Risk and danger are built-into test flights. But how good was the derg at considering probability versus certainty? He decided to ask it directly. He whispered, Mr. Derg, when you give an advisory caution, how certain are you of the probability of imminent harm? Do you advise if there is any risk? Or there is 100% certainty of harm? Or, for example, 20% chance of harm? I'm sorry to speak so bluntly. But I'm an engineer and a pilot, I think in terms of information and objective facts. Mason hopes that the derg isn't offended by questions. It's an alien from an alien culture, after all. And he was 7th in his class in Alien Cultural Anthropology and Human Representational Emissary Diplomacy, Advanced class at the Academy.

[Grognardsw]

The Derg will answer Mason's question, but first...

Over the weekend with Talia, the Valusian Derg kept up his ever increasing danger reports. Mason simply had to discard from its reports the various dangers in places like Hoboken, Thailand, Kansas City, Angkor Wat, Sarasota and Paris. It did save Mason from a pretty nasty holdup on Cathedral Parkway and a four-alarm fire. But it kept stepping up the pace.

"Tainted food in Baker's Cafeteria. Don't eat there tonight. ---- Amsterdam Bus Three-Twelve has bad brakes. Don't ride it. ---- Mellen's Tailor Shop has a leaking gas line. Explosion due. Have your clothes dry-cleaned elsewhere."

Danger seemed to be lurking behind every lamp post, waiting for Mason. He began to suspect the derg of padding his report.

"All my reports are perfectly genuine," the derg said in an offended sub-vocalized whisper. "And if you don’t believe me, try turning on your lights in the spare office tomorrow."

“Why?”

“Defective wiring, electrical short,” the derg said smugly.

“And don’t take the next taxi available - schizophrenic driver.”

Mason was beginning to think life was not this dangerous before the derg came along.

“Well, of course it wasn't,” the derg replied. Had it read his mind, or was Mason subconsciously vocalizing? “Surely you know that if you accept protection, you must accept the drawbacks of protection as well."

“Protection begets the need of further protection. That is a universal constant. Before you met me, you were like everyone else and you ran into such risks as the situation offered. But with my coming, your immediate environment has changed, and your position in it has changed, too.”

[jemmus]

Mason didn't like the sound of that. He was a test pilot, astronaut, and emissary to alien, and possibly hostile, societies. Some 19th general-- maybe Napoleon-- said that the greatest attribute in a general was luck. Well, the same went for pilots and space emissaries. You can plan and control certain things, but a lot of things you completely can't. For those, you need luck. For example, the British World War I pilot whose shot-up plane would only fly upside down. He tried to fly back to his airfield, but passed out from blood in his head from flying upside down. He came too, with his aircraft stuck in a tree on the friendly side of the lines. That's pure luck. Without it, he wouldn't have lived to tell the story. And this Valusian Derg was bringing the opposite: more risks, more bad luck.

He tries an experiment and thinks (making sure not to physically vocalize) "Is there a way to break this connection, so Mr. Derg can go on his way and I can avoid this environment of additional risk? I'd really like to know that. I mean, it's not like I work as a kindergarten teacher or something." He waits to see if the Valusian Derg responds.

[jemmus]

BTW, my wife cracked up when she happened to see me replying to post #70. "That lounge! 70s!"

[Grognardsw]

Mason tried his thought experiment. "Is there a way to break this connection, so Mr. Derg can go on his way and I can avoid this environment of additional risk?"

"I can hear you," the Derg said matter-of-factly. "Are you sure you want me to leave? Your risks have increased -- but my capacity for detection is more than ample to cope with it. I'm happy to cope with it! So it still represents a net gain in protection for you."

"My departure may leave you unprotected. And, well, I... I hardly know how to tell you. A gamper is after you."

[jemmus]

Mason is relieved to know that there is at least the option of separating from the Derg. Then he realizes that the Derg knows he's relieved about that, because it can read his thoughts. And he realizes that the Derg knows that he realizes he's relieved. "This realizing things that the Derg knows is a chain that go on for infinity," he thinks. And realizes the Derg knows he thought that.

But back to the business at hand. A gamper? he thinks. What's a gamper? And why would it possibly be after me? He wonders if the Derg is b.s.ing him after some cryptic danger, just to stick around. And realizes that the Derg knows that he wonders if....

[Grognardsw]

“If you feel strongly, as you obviously do, I can leave,” said the Valadusian Derg with a crestfallen sigh. “But you can’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“A gamper is a creature from my environment,” explained the Derg. “I suppose it was attracted by your increased potentiality for avoiding risk, due to my protection.”

“If it comes, and I am not with you, try driving it off with mistletoe. Uh, iron is often effective, if bonded to copper.”

[jemmus]

Mason is initially pretty hacked off. "So this guy attracts risks, and advises you how to avoid them. One of which now is a gamper. If you separate from him, you get rid of the increased risks-- but you still got the gamper. Pretty convenient, huh? Make a continual problem and continually help fix problem. And attract a bigger problem that leaves the other guy in a fix if he doesn't keep playing along." But then he remember that the Derg said that he himself didn't know how or why this situation happened. He thinks to the Derg, Alright, let's not change anything until we get the gamper situation resolved. Mistletoe, eh? Kind of hard to come by. Iron bounded to copper too. What about steel bonded to copper? He figured there must be a machine part like that somewhere.

[Grognardsw]

Mason felt in his head a mental sigh of relief from the Valudusian Derg at Mason’s decision.

“You won’t be sorry Matt! I’m here to protect! The gamper is from my dimension, so I won’t need those earthly materials to drive it off.”

“I know you have a busy schedule ahead with your test flight, so we might as well get it over with now.”

The Derg whistled, at least that’s the auditory sensation Mason felt in his head.

“Here boy!”

In the corner of the ceiling of the room, a seam appeared in the air, split open, and sub-freezing air blasted in. The lights flickered and Mason saw a horrible thing leap through the opening...

Summer has my RL-workload lighter, so I’m available to post more if you want to increase posting frequency in X Minus One and 2112.

[jemmus]

"Good Lord!" Mason thought. He'd seen plenty of alien life forms before, but none anything like this one. In his mind's eye he'd kind of imagined a crocodilian hound or a less humanoid orc or something. "Only thing for it is to hope this Valusian Derg is up for it. Otherwise, this is it. Curtains, end of the tune." He been in some hairy situations before where he thought the day might be his last. But he'd never imagined relying on a Valusian Derg to not be done in by a gamper.