"Mike, I don't know what to do here. Credible witnesses say this guy came out of a hole in the air that sounds suspiciously like a pocket-sized Ring of Fire. His helmet's got a computer in it that's smaller and more advanced than anything I ever saw uptime. He's carrying an electronic ID dated 1998 that projects holograms of both him and his qualifications -- and before you ask, it says he's Colonel Douglas Quincy Sangnoir of the United Nations Metahuman Peacekeeping Force Warriors Alpha. His motorcycle is powered by a turbine made of some kind of ceramic, and it was floating about a foot off the ground when it came to a stop. Its cargo carriers are bigger on the freaking inside than they are on the outside -- we've pulled a couple cubic yards of crap out of them so far and we haven't hit bottom yet. And his laptop computer is apparently the home of a very pissed off Japanese schoolgirl who wants to know what the hell we're doing with him, her and all his stuff. I'm half-afraid to tell her he took a downtime musket ball through the chest as he arrived."
Mike Stearns stared disbelievingly at the radio. "...Japanese schoolgirl?"
There was a crackle of static, then: "Don't quote me on this, but I think she's an AI -- she can see us, learned our names, recognizes each of us on sight, and always has a few choice words for us, including a lot of what I think is Japanese profanity. If she's just a fancy Eliza program, I'll eat my hat." A pause. "So what should I do?"
Stearns glanced at his wife Rebecca, who looked as stunned as he felt. "Why not just apologize to her, bury the body, and ship her and everything else here to Magdeburg?"
Even despite the staticky signal, the sigh from the other end was audible. "That's the other thing -- I don't know how, but Sangnoir survived. His chest has a hole the size of a baseball in it, but he's still alive and holding on. Sharon's taking care of him, but she's talking about waiting until he heals up and then cutting him open to find out why he won't die." There was another pause. "I think she's joking."
-- Bob
---------
Then the horns kicked in...
...and my shoes began to squeak.
Mike Stearns stared disbelievingly at the radio. "...Japanese schoolgirl?"
There was a crackle of static, then: "Don't quote me on this, but I think she's an AI -- she can see us, learned our names, recognizes each of us on sight, and always has a few choice words for us, including a lot of what I think is Japanese profanity. If she's just a fancy Eliza program, I'll eat my hat." A pause. "So what should I do?"
Stearns glanced at his wife Rebecca, who looked as stunned as he felt. "Why not just apologize to her, bury the body, and ship her and everything else here to Magdeburg?"
Even despite the staticky signal, the sigh from the other end was audible. "That's the other thing -- I don't know how, but Sangnoir survived. His chest has a hole the size of a baseball in it, but he's still alive and holding on. Sharon's taking care of him, but she's talking about waiting until he heals up and then cutting him open to find out why he won't die." There was another pause. "I think she's joking."
-- Bob
![[+]](/images/collapse_collapsed.png "[+]")
Spoiler---------
Then the horns kicked in...
...and my shoes began to squeak.