I have posted an initial set of pictures of my new WowWee Femisapien, named “Violette”:

http://www.quinnebert.net/my-femisapien/

Enjoy!
–Quinn

Yes, that’s right–Two posts from me in the same day!  If you don’t like it, I highly suggest you learn to deal with it!
=D

I welcome you all to check out the newly-published “My Creatures” page.
;-)

Enjoy!
–Quinn

Two new “Cats” have been added to my collection.  Head on over to the “My Cats” page to give them a look…

Enjoy!
–Quinn

Due to having much better things to do, I’ve been falling behind in posting my discussion posts/papers to my web site.  As of this posting, things are up-to-date for both of my current courses at ECPI.  Hope somebody out there enjoys ‘em!  ;-)

Cheers!
–Quinn

Today is a red-letter day!

The folks over at FreeSwitch.org discovered a Linode StackScript that I released over the past weekend, and have posted a news item about it on their home page!

If you wish to try out the StackScript, you can do so here…

Let me know if you have any feedback — Oh, and with only 8 days to my birthday, if you’re feeling Generous, check out my Amazon Wish List!

Cheers!  :-)
–Quinn

As of this morning (April 23 of 2010), Screenshots on “Bok” are now resumed.  Hopefully it won’t cause us problems again.  :-)

Thanks!
–Quinn

Just to prove I’m still alive, I’d like to invite you to the newly-designed-by-yours-truly web site of my good friend, Andre Louis:

http://www.andrelouis.com/

Enjoy! ;-)
–Quinn

Effective immediately, I have removed all notices of W3C compliance from my web pages. It was a nice ride and all, but, WordPress’s various editors are horrible at maintaining compliance with my site’s theme. I don’t foresee any problems with this change (except for possibly some lost compatibility with screen readers – namely JAWS, probably), but let me know if you see any problems, and I’ll try and investigate (as my time allows).

Thank You!
–Quinn

UPDATED ON 2010-01-08: The images below are now the digital originals my mom took, as opposed to the scans I made from prints.

Karl recently had a bath, and now he’s a squeaky-clean Collie:

Enjoy! ;-)
–Quinn

A few updates/changes to my web site this morning:

• The addition of a “Now Playing” widget (thanks to Brandon Fuller and Josh Blake for their work that makes this possible) — It gets updated every 5 minutes with the latest song I’m listening to in iTunes Media Player (if it’s open, of course).   ;-)
• Removed two of the plugins from the web site: Sociable (the “Social Sharing” icon links below each article) and GD Star Rating (the star/rating links for each of my articles) — I came to realize that these plugins broke W3C-compliance on my various web pages that used their output.
• I also edited the code of a few of my articles to return the home page to W3C compliance (no content was “lost,” however, I did change the hosting provider for the “Zephyr” video to move away from YouTube’s W3C-non-compliant code.

Enjoy!
–Quinn

My mom got this picture today on the spur of the moment:

Karl and Missy sleeping together like this is a **VERY** new thing. :-)

Seasons Greetings! :-D
–Quinn

There’s now a new picture of Karl Haider (my Collie) on the “Doggies” page. :-)  WOOF!

Enjoy!
–Quinn

Saw this advert on the telly the other day, and couldn’t resist but to share it:

…Just FYI, this video was taken from the FLU.GOV web site, NOT ripped by me from the TV.  Sorry.  ;-)

Enjoy!
–Quinn

Just wanted to take a minute to “pre-welcome” a new “member to the family”…

Its Persona:

All the best wishes to my new “Portable” Machine, WyteLyon — This is gonna be one hell of a ride, buddy!  :-D
–Quinn

Finally had some chances of late to slow down just a bit, and relax a little…In-the-process, finally got my hands, albeit a good bit “late”, on a copy of “Halo 2″ for Windows Vista.  However, it seems that, for users (like me) of recent update-versions of Microsoft’s “Games for Windows LIVE” client programme, and owners (again, like me) of NVIDIA Graphics Cards with up-to-date drivers, that there is a BIG issue with the latest NVIDIA drivers causing sluggish (or “stuttery”/stuttering) performace in-the-game.  Well, I think I may have a workaround here — at least, this small set of changes (which you can make in the NVIDIA Control Panel software) seems to resolve these issues in my particular instance of this problem.

NOTE: I’m not going to tell you how to get to your NVIDIA Control Panel interface…There’s several ways to do it, nonetowhich are very complicated — If you’re really desperate, though, you can pay me to walk you through it — Contact me if you REALLY need me to hold your hand on that.  ;-)

Anyway, to get started, let’s bring up the NVIDIA Control Panel to the “Program Settings” Tab of the “Manage 3D Settings” page…See the following screenshot (you can click it to enlarge it, if you need to) if you need to know where it is…  Once you get there, I *highly* recommend you tick the “Show only programs found on this computer” checkbox so that you can much more easily find (and select) the “Halo 2 (startup.exe)” entry from the “Select a program to customize” dropdown menu.

And, in the “Specify the settings for this program” listview box, try setting your settings as-below:

Anisotropic Filtering = Off
Antialiasing - Gamma Correction = Off
Antialiasing - Mode = Override any application setting
Antialiasing - Setting = 2x
Antialiasing - Transparency = Off
Conformant Texture Clamp = Use hardware
Error Reporting = Off
Extension Limit = Off
Force Mipmaps = None
Maximum Pre-rendered Frames = 0 (Numerical Zero)
Multi-Display/Mixed-GPU Acceleration = Multiple-display Performance Mode
Texture Filtering - Anisotropic Sample Optimization = On
Texture Filtering - Negative LOD Bias = Allow
Texture Filtering - Quality = High performance
Texture Filtering - Trilinear Optimization = On
Threaded Optimization = Auto
Triple Buffering = Off
Vertical Sync = Force off

Now, my personal experience leads me to believe that the two MOST influential settings here are the ones for “Vertical Sync” and “Maximum Pre-Rendered Frames,” but, I’ve been wrong before (and, being a human being, expect that, if I’m wrong here, it wouldn’t be the last time)…  Also, PLEASE NOTE, if one of those settings shown above doesn’t show up for your NVCPL, or if you have other settings available to you, it’s VERY likely you have a newer or older GPU (mine’s an AsusTek 8600 GT) than I do, but, my best guess, again, is with the “Vertical Sync” and “Maximum Pre-Rendered Frames” options.

Also, be sure to “Apply” settings before closing NVCPL, and, be sure to comment on this article with your praise, complaints, or other experiences with this possible workaround.  ;-)

Thank you, and, Enjoy!
–Quinn

Today, I found a few moments to add a few identities to the “My Identities” sidebar here on my site, plus, while I’m notifying “you” of that, just figured I’d “ping” the page, and just let everyone interested know that I’m still alive, but still just *very* busy. Stay tuned to my site for further updates as “interesting” stuff happens… ;-)

Cheers!
–Quinn

Chapter 3: “Trail Of A Thousand Tears”

“In a perfect world, there would be no war, no loss, no suffering…and no humans, as a critical dependency.”

– David Quinn “ZeFyre” Ebert (2003)

– During his 4-year struggle, “Days Of Treason And Reason”

Zephyr stirred in his bed, raked free from a restful slumber by the melodious, yet inhuman chime of his wristwatch alarm. The first thing he laid eyes on was the sight of his lovely wife Regina, or “Reggie,” as he liked to call her. She had awoken naturally a few moments earlier, she said, at the sight of her partner’s awakening. He wished he had the choice to sleep longer, but, he had confined himself to the execution of a task which, while carried out for the love of his child, could easily mean the demise of another for whom, while she was not his, had grown up before his eyes, along with his own.

“Having second thoughts,” Reggie asked Zephyr, trying to explain for herself why he was not saying anything. Even when there was nothing to be said, or no questions to be answered, Reggie knew that her husband was always one to try and strike up idle conversation. “Of course I am, just trying to ignore them, that’s all,” was his response. “Don’t blame you, but, you’ve said, and we both know, Angela’s just as experienced in defending herself as Chrissy is,” Regina responded, knowing it would do little for the matter, but, it was all she could offer. “I know. I don’t doubt the girl’s abilities, I just don’t want to deal with my own conscience if anything happens to her,” Zephyr admitted, “Benjei’s reaction to that eventuality would pale in all comparison to any emotional turmoil I might suffer from such a tragedy.” “I’m in constant admiration of your bravery, Zeph,” his wife submitted, “and you should be in admiration of Angela’s, just the same.” He didn’t respond to that, but, Reggie knew his silence signfied his agreeance.

Moments later, after having dressed in their most well-maintained “Woodland Camoflauge” BDU’s, Zephyr and Reggie emerged from their temporary bedroom, and made their way down the rear hallway, and into the family room, where they found Angela, in full, brand-new NSVA “Grenafolya” battle regailia, an exquisitely-maintained (or possibly even new) Glock 19 on each hip holster, and what they thought to be the barrel of a battle-scarred AK-74 peeping through from behind her back. The two ex-marines couldn’t help but to share a look of confusion, horror, and humor at this, which was only made more obvious by seeing this underaged “soldier” sitting in a loveseat reading the most recent Sunday issue of “Komsomolskaya Pravda,” whose Sunday issue Benjei had drop-shipped to his home. “Vnimanie, Angela,” yelled Zephyr, using the Russian for “Attention,” which he’d had the pleasure to learn from spending time in Russia during his stent with the Navy SEAL’s. To their surprise, Angela shot to her feet, and took stance as if she’d done it time and time again in formal NSVA training. “Oh…Kay,” Reggie stammered, as her husband walked over to Angela, where he proceeded to inspect her as would a drill instructor. “Very nice, Angela, I just have one question for you,” her inspector said. “Da, Comandante,” was the vigored response from the young one. “Now listen, soldier, when you address me, you use English, am I understood,” demanded her inspector turned commander, in a voice one would seldom use with a child. “Sir, yes, sir,” was the response…but, it was loud enough to pre-empt the commander’s planned response of “I can’t hear you.” “Sir, what’s your question, sir,” was Angela’s next appropriately out-of-turn boasting, which Zephyr didn’t expect from a “raw recruit,” let alone one who wouldn’t likely survive more than 5 minutes in Basic Training…at least, he reminded himself, that was the statistic. “Okay, Angie, that’s enough. Wow, Kid, you’re on the ball,” Zephyr said, allowing himself to gasp a bit…more for Angela than himself, he thought. When he saw that she was still playing along, or perhaps just showing off, he allowed himself to say “At ease, soldier,” to which she responded by maintaining perfect meter and stance as she returned to her seat, and returned her attention to her reading.

Around 5:45AM, Anita entered the family room, where she announced “Well, guys, what do you think?” “During my time as an instructor, I think I never had a more poinient soldier, even including the ones that came back for re-assessment,” Zephyr said, still almost visibly glowing from the notion of having found such an obviously obedient and well-disciplined soldier in his neighbor’s 17-year-old daughter.

“Anita, may I have a word with you privately,” asked Zephyr. “Yeah, of course,” she replied. Anita followed Zephyr down towards the end of the rear hallway, where they stopped at the closed Theater Room door. “What’s on your mind, Zeph,” Anita asked. “She’s had more training than I’ve given her…that’s for certain,” Zephyr stated, matter-of-factly. “You didn’t know she was in St. Catherine’s Academy for four years,” asked Anita. “No, Christian failed to mention that,” Zephyr admitted. Having cleared that up, and parts and pieces of a few of his worries in the process, he allowed himself to lead their way back into the family room.

“Angela,” Zephyr said, in the gruffest voice he could muster. “Yes, sir” was the soldier’s courteous response. “How would you like to be court-marshalled,” Zephyr said, again with as much base-lung power as he could spare. “I’m sorry, sir,” she asked, appearing truly confused. Zephyr let out a hearty laugh and, returning to his normal voice, said “You didn’t mention you went to St. Catherine’s.” “Yes, sir. I did,” she admitted, “but you never asked,” a point which Zephyr couldn’t contest, or, at least, couldn’t prove. “Oh, and one more thing Angela,” Zephyr said. “Yes, sir” she replied. “I’m not your drill instructor. First, I’m your best friend’s father, and, then, I am your commander. You can drop the formalities unless you see lead flying by our heads,” Zephyr advised her. “Sure thing, Zephyr,” she said. Zephyr allowed himself a sigh of relief on Angela’s behalf, when it became apparent she was not going to allow herself that luxury. The soldier then returned to reading the last few pages of the newspaper.

As the sun started to emerge over the horizon, Zephyr, and his “Motley Crew,” were joined in the family room by Benjei, who proudly proclaimed, “Ah, it is nice to see my comrades in arms are eager for battle!” “I may be so, but, I am not sure about the other recruits,” Angela chuckled, in Russian. Benjei’s reply was a gustuous belly-laugh, which naturally made Zephyr curious, but, he decided to keep his indescretions to himself. “Come, let us have breakfast, I have quite a feast awaiting our noble warrirors,” exclaimed Benjei, to which the battle-ready trio gladly followed lead.

“Flesh is a design flaw.”
– “Gorge” (Participating Character)
– from Epic’s “Unreal Tournament 2003/2004″

“Daddy,” cried Christian, “is he dead?” Before Zephyr had a chance to muster a response, the seemingly-demised cyborg emitted a characteristic grunting-grumble, and responded “Not quite…but one might say I’d rather be, albeit certainly not the case.” “Oh, Thank God, Uriel,” responded the now-glowing Christian, who rushed to his side. “So,” inquired Zephyr, “Uriel, what’s the damage?” “Nothing fatal, but nothing easily mended, either,” Uriel replied begrudgingly. “How far in did it go,” asked the shocked father, who had never once flinched during 8 years of active military service. “About 50 millimeters. It can be pulled out manually without danger, but, any way you twist it…excuse the pun…it will almost certainly mean I can never guard Christian again, without extremely extravagant biomechanical re-engineering.” Zephyr, not surprisingly, would have to think about that…he had already spent over a year’s wages on acquiring Uriel’s unmatched services, but, he knew the repairs might be just as costly.

“Zephyr, come in here,” exclaimed Regina, who Zephyr found to have gone directly across the hall and into the pair’s bedroom, and was sitting at Zephyr’s radio scanner, with earpiece in-ear. “Yes, honey,” inquired Zephyr, “what’s going on?” “Seems Benjamin and his family have problems of their own…what do you say we go check up on them?” Never one to pass up an opportunity to help a friend or “comrade” in need, Zephyr responded with an unsurprising “Of course!”

“Christian,” Zephyr asked, returing to her bedroom, “Mom and I are going to go assist Benjamin and his family…seems they’ve fallen on some bad luck as well. You can either stay with Uriel, or come with us, whichever pleases you most.” “Uriel, would you be okay by yourself here,” Christian asked. “Yes…I will be fine…You go with your mother and father…this will give me time to patch myself up the best way I know how.” “Okay, we’ll be back shortly, then,” replied Christian, who blew the wounded one a kiss, and who, as was his custom, promptly returned the favour.

The “Morrison Trio” formed a “stack” with Christian in the “guarded” position, and made their way down the hallway, and through the front door. Benjamin’s two-story “combine” house was directly across the culdesac from the Morrisons’, so, it was apparent to the three immediately that their much-loved neighbors were clearly much more lucky than they were…their sole problem being that a dismounted and crumpled TR-79 engine had made a devine “bee-line” for their front door, bringing down the home’s intricate Foyer, which Zephyr had hand-designed when he was originally building his “little community” of Morrison Ranch.

As the two made their way across the “neighborhood courtyard,” Regina, much to Christian’s surprise, pulled one of her Glock pistols from her belt-holster, and handed it to her daughter. True, her father had taken her shooting with this very weapon many times before, but, it was difficult for him to see her be put into such a role of responsibility, even though he knew she was likely more emotionally ready to accept the responsibility than even he was at the moment. “What am I looking for,” Christian asked her mother, quietly, as if some supreme force would take offense at the question. “Only shoot at what WE shoot at, and ONLY if WE shoot,” stated the mother, without any hint of emotion, but seemingly attempting to match her daughter’s attempt at “devine discretion.” As they closed in on Benjamin’s house, Christian allowed herself a glance at her parents’ weapons…they both had their fire-select switches set on “safety”…Christian allowed this to ease her mind, as she’d always been taught that you never “free” a weapon unless you intend to use it.

By this time, the trio had arrived at the (very) mangled front entrance of Benjamin’s house. Through a few breaks in the rubbled entrance, the house’s slightly-bewildered occupant could be seen. “Ah! Hello, Zephyr! It is a pleasure to see your family here…we very much appreciate your help,” exclaimed Benjamin. “Hey, Christie! How ya’ doing,” chuckled Benjamin’s daughter, Angela. “Fine…Don’t worry Angie…my mom & dad will get you out of there…just do what my dad says, and it’ll all be good.”

As her mother and father worked to free their “Housed-In” neighbors, Christian took a moment to look back at her house…and, sighed in relief, as she saw Uriel moving about the kitchen, through it’s hand-moulded, wide-aspect bay window, which her father crafted with the same love and care as he’d always shown her and her mother. She now felt at peace with his survivability, but could never disregard her guilt for the consequences Uriel would suffer from his undying devotion to her protection.

A loud metallic “clank” and “thump” presented itself behind Christian, who instinctively turned around to address it, only to find that Benjamin and his family were emerging from their home, each completely unscathed. As Angela emerged from the ruins, she and Christian approached one another, shared a hug, and took it upon themselves to discuss the things that might be expected of two people such as themselves.

“I don’t know…anything’s a possibility,” said Zephyr to Benjamin. “If I know my comrade Zephyr well enough, I can feel certain he thinks that there is more to this than meets the eye,” Benjamin replied. “You know, I beat myself up over stuff like this, but, I never really get to any reasonable conclusions, and find they just get lost in the fog of my life and mind,” Zephyr responded. “You know”, Benjamin suggested, “I have an informant friend who works at Volenyatov base…I could see if he knows anything about it.” “That would be very much appreciated, my friend,” answered Zephyr.

“Oh…Uriel,” exclaimed Angela, who had just spotted the Gargoyle, who had bandaged and re-dressed himself, hobbling towards the group of reuniting friends. “Uriel! You should be resting now…what do you think you’re doing,” yelled the guardian’s master. “Coming to be with friends,” Uriel yelled back happily. “It seems like nothing can shatter the stone-hard spirit of a Gargoyle,” said Christian in admiration of her ever-vigilant protector.

“Uriel,” implored Zephyr, “feel up to helping me and B.J. with a project?” “Certainly,” was the response which was always expected, but not necessarilly under these circumstances. The gargoyle made his way up the short yard-hill at Benjamin’s property, and drew gasps from his “family” as he took a fall, but, to the surprise of all, recovered as gracefully as would be expected of any Gargoyle making a landing from a much-invigorating glide. As Uriel found solid ground, Zephyr chuckled, “Whoa, Uriel…nice save!” “Thank you, sir,” said the gargoyle, with much gusto, “How may I be of assistance?” “Well,” mused Zephyr, “do you think you can help me carry some of my masonry tools over here from our house?” Uriel, never one to refuse a reasonable request, could do nothing but pause, as a battle of emotions clouded his ability to speak. With a chuckle, Zephyr offered, with a tone of compassion, “That’s what I thought.” He patted the cyborg on the back, and made his way to the house to get his tools.

* * * THAT EVENING * * *

“I assure you, it is of no incovenience. I am your comrade…what is yours is mine…I only wish to make your life as comfortable as possible, given your current circumstances,” Benjamin insisted. “Benjei,” chuckled Zephyr, “I see old habits die hard, eh?” “Communism, while vulnerable, is known for peace and order, if executed properly. Of course, not all are satisfied to be equal with one another,” Benjamin noted, “I try to take the best of all worlds, and apply them for the good will of all that I know.” “A good policy, I must say,” Zephyr admitted. “So, will you all accept my offer? If not, then, may I be of assistance elsewise,” implored Benjamin. “What do you think, Reggie,” asked Zephyr. “Are you sure we will not be an imposition, Benjei,” Regina asked. “If you are…you will be one which I will welcome with open arms,” chuckled their cordial host. “Then, we accept your offer, but, wish for you to let us know immediately if you need us to make other arrangements,” Regina said. “Agreed,” Zephyr concurred, trying not to show an aire of humility, although, he knew, Benjamin knew it was there, nonetheless. “There are to be no worries on your part,” assured Benjamin, “this home you have built for us, while legally my own, should always be considered as yours as well, my comrades.”

* * * LATE THAT NIGHT * * *

“So, is your family ready for the grand tour,” asked Benjamin’s wife Anita, whom Zephyr often would think he might’ve married, if it wasn’t for how perfect he and Regina seemed for one another. “Yes Ma’am,” Zephyr huffed out in response. Zephyr proceeded to come to his feet, and followed Anita towards the front of the house.

“First stop…the newly-renovated threshold, which has been so thoughtfully provided by our benefactors,” said Anita, who failed miserably at resisting the urge to laugh lavishly at her own joke. “Who’s your benefactor…me or Chelkov,” Zephyr asked, finding his own comeback quite amusing. “You each played your own unique role,” concluded Anita, who found Zephyr more amused at her response than she was.

* * * 15 MINUTES LATER * * *

“Girls and Boy, time to go to bed,” exclaimed Anita, from the hallway. “But I don’t want to,” Uriel comedically argued. “Alright guys,” Anita said as she walked into the room, “specifically Christian and Uriel…want me to show you your room now?” “Must we really go to bed now,” inquired Uriel, not quite as jokingly. “She’s kidding, Uriel,” explained his master. “I think Uriel’s probably guarded kids that do have bedtimes, so, that’s why he’s asking,” Anita surmised. “Indeed, Christian…in case you have forgotten, you are not my first charge,” said Uriel. “Anyway,” said Anita, “Benjei and I are going to bed in just a moment, and, I certainly didn’t want to leave you and Chrissy without a nice bed.” “Annie, just to let you know,” Christian noted, “Dad doesn’t let Uriel and I sleep together.” “I’ll telll you what,” Anita replied,” let me show you two your room, then, I’ll see what I can do about that.”

* * * 20 MINUTES LATER * * *

“Here you go, Uriel,” said Anita, handing Uriel a bag containing a “Suspension Bed”…the New Solviet Army’s answer to the U.S. Army’s “Hard Cots.” “May I ask how you acquired this,” asked Uriel. “A friend, at the 17th Street supply depot…he didn’t say why, how, or from whom he’d received it.” Uriel tried and failed to suppress an expression of sadistic charm at the provisioning of the “taboo” item…the NSVA gave harsh penalties to civillians who were found to posess non-decommissioned military surplus…and he was pretty sure this high-end item would not be decommissioned for any non-terminal reason. “Good night, sleep tight,” Anita chuckled lovingly as she closed the door, not commenting on Uriel’s obvious show of amusement.

“Uriel, just one question for you before I go to sleep,” posed Christian. “Yes, what is it,” asked Uriel in response. “When you said I was not your first charge…what did you mean? I mean, I know what that refers to, but, could you tell me more about your past clients,” implored Christian. “There was only one…a very nice young man, named Davinsky Egatov,” replied Uriel. “What happened to him,” asked the cyborg’s master. “Nothing of consequence…when he came of age, his parents no longer required my services, and, as such, I went out and sought further employment,” replied the cyborg, wondering of his master’s intentions. “I realize I’ve already asked two questions, and only got permission for one, but,” said Christian, who was cut off by Uriel’s response of “Not to worry…Go ahead,” which was followed by a chuckle of reassurance. “What do you want to do after we don’t need you anymore,” was the question. “Until today’s incident, I’d planned to simply find another client, but, things may have changed, obviously,” was the answer. “Is that what you’ve really been wanting to do,” was another question. “Yes, that is what I enjoy doing…it pays well, and the benefits are, obviously, quite sufficient for any worker in any field,” was the respective answer. “Well, then, I’m going to do everything in my power to make sure you get your career back on track,” replied the master. There was no response from the master’s subject…he could formulate no answer that he felt would suffice. The tension held the silence until both master and subject lost themselves in much-needed slumber.

* * * DAY 2, 5:45AM * * *

Christian’s wristwatch alarm went off, promptly waking her up…she’d forgotten to turn it off from yesterday. It was her custom to get up at 5:45, as was encouraged by her parents, so they could spend time together before Regina and Zephyr went to work, but, she had wanted to sleep in, to make up for the chaotic events of the past day. “Typical,” she quietly thought out loud. “Huh,” Uriel exclaimed groggily, “Oh, Christian…good morning, how did you sleep?” “Just fine, but not long enough,” she responded. “You know, you don’t have to get up now…I’m certain your parents will understand,” responded her roommate. “They would, but my body probably wouldn’t,” she suggested. “Ah, yes,” was the roommate’s metered response.

* * * 5:55AM * * *

“They definitely are capable of that, but, I would never put them in that position, even if my life depended on it,” Zephyr said. “You have stated yourself that your daughter is better at shooting than yourself,” noted Benjamin. “Oh, whoops, did I come in at a bad moment,” a shocked Christian asked. “Come here, and sit down, baby,” her mother implored. “What’s up, Mom,” said the daughter. “Zephyr, you talk a lot about how reliable and smart our child is…why don’t we ask her? She’s always wanting to do more and more on her own,” her mother suggested. “Uh, what are you guys talking about,” the daughter replied, having heard the “shooting” comment, but not yet ready to make a direct response to it. “We didn’t want to rub this in your face, but, we could tell you were rather shaken when you saw Uriel get hurt yesterday,” the mother began, “but, we know you’d want us to do whatever we could to help him, am I correct?” “Sure, but, I also know how much dad’s already done for me,” the daughter responded, with a tone she hoped would bring closure, and make an end to it. “Uriel told us about what you said last night,” was Reggie’s response to the attempt at conclusion. “What,” Christina exclaimed, “when did he tell you this?” “Earlier this morning,” her mother replied, “I woke him up, wanting to talk to him, see if he had any concerns.” “I hope you are not upset, Christian,” offered Uriel, who’d been standing unnoticed in front of the door to the rear hallway, “I personally thought the comment was unbecoming of somebody your age…in a good way, of course.” “Thank you,” Christian replied, “but, what are you guys trying to get yourselves into? What is this about shooting?” “Your father and I want to do a favor for a biomech engineer friend of Benjei’s, who’s had the local CDF officials constantly up his skirt…this engineer owes Benjei a favor, and, he wants that favor to be Uriel’s rehabilitation.” Christian’s mind quickly reeled over this proposition…it sounded to her as if they wanted HER to kill somebody; sure, she’d done it before in videogames, but, never had any desire or interest in doing so in real life. “I…Uh…I don’t know, I’ll have to think about this,” was her response, which came almost half a minute later. Angela and her father then exchanged a short dialog in Russian, which was ended by a thoughtful yet contemptful sigh from the father, and a very brief pause. “Christian,” Benjamin asked, inflecting his best American accent, and sounding more compassionate than Zephyr had ever heard him before, “if you do not wish to take the responsibility, Angela has volunteered.” “Benjei,” Zephyr insisted, “would you truly risk your own child for the sake of a barely-related comrade’s future?” “It is her decision, not mine,” pleaded Benjamin, “there is nothing I can do about it, other than offer my opinion, which, I already have.” Unable to resist, Zephyr implored “Angela, I don’t speak Russian…care to tell me your father’s opinion.” “Father, may I be so honest as to indulge your guest,” was her response (in her best educated Russian). “Da,” (or “Yes,”) was her father’s response; Zephyr knew very well that Benjei tended to guard himself behind a language barrier when he was contested for his communism-inspired morals and ideals…not that all of such ideals were poorly founded, he would often admit to himself. “To the best of my translation skills,” Angela said, “he would not want to see me come to any harm, but, he trusts my skills and training for battle, and that he can do nothing but to admire my dedication to my friend, and would not dream of denying me that choice.” “Da,” was Benjamin’s unemotional response, confirming that the point had been sufficiently carried over.

* * * DAY 2, 5:50PM – DINNERTIME * * *

“So, what is our best first course of action,” asked Zephyr, generously cutting the pork roast his host and hostess had so graciously prepared for himself and his family. “Dr. Dragonov’s home and laboratory are contained in a two-story 20th-century home on the southern outskirts of Volingrad township,” Benjamin explained, “the town itself is a sleeper town…it houses mostly CDF personnell, with a few non-affiliates, whom they’ve provided with housing under what is referred to as a push-pull contract. This means they get to live, and live well, if they do whatever they are told by the benefactors, or otherwise, they can choose to not live at all. The point of having the non-affiliates is to add to the authenticity of the townspeople to those who may come through or to it.” “That’s got to be a nightmare for all involved, I’d suspect,” noted Zephyr. “The reason you do not hear about these townships is because, oddly enough, the citizens are often under no impression of danger…who would refuse government-funded housing, after all,” Benjamin offered. “True, but what is the level of violence in these towns? That is what I am referring to,” inquired Zephyr. “Unless the CDF in these areas harbor a grudge with a non-affiliate, all that is asked of the non-affiliates is an extremely-reasonable monthly rental fee…plus they get immunity from CRPS taxes…as these townships are usually not recognized by the CRPS,” Benjamin explained, “and, as with anywhere else, the sight of an armed CDF guard on your street corner generally would tend to thwart any would-be bandits.” “Yes, true,” Zephyr admitted. “Father, may I ask, do you truly think I’m ready for battle,” Angela chimed in (in Russian). “She doubts herself, Zephyr. Child, you need no longer hide your questions from the many,” Benjamin said, with a hearty, food-assisted chuckle. “He, or she, whom doubts himself is capable of nothing but failure,” mused Zephyr, “however, from all of the time I’ve spent with you Angela, I know you are every bit as skilled and able as Christian, to whom I’ve offered every bit of knowledge I have ever learned about the intricacies of war and battle.” “Zephyr,” Angela chuckled, “I do believe this could be because we have spent so many times together camping and shooting.” “As I must say, Zephyr,” Benjamin admitted, “she has learned from the best I know.” “So,” Zephyr inquired, “when do we begin?” The host returned, “We shall make final meeting and departure the first opportunity after breakfast, if that so pleases all involved?” “Splendid, so be it, my friend,” was the guest’s reply.

“There is limitless freedom in times of complete disorder.”
– David Quinn “Q-Man” Ebert (CEO, EbertSoft Technologies)
– from Aaron Sonders’ “(A) List Of Infamous Quotes” (2001, Unprinted)

“Shit,” gasped Zephyr, as he came to his senses, finding himself dusted in the rubble of the upper-story of his once majestic “Morrison Ranch” home. “Zephyr,” asked Regina, with obvious throat irritation, “are you okay?” “Yep, I’m fine,” replied Zephyr, “Christian, are you okay?” “Yep, I think so,” was the much hoped-for response, “just a little dusty, daddy,” she went on, with a chuckle.

Zephyr sat up, two or three sizable pieces of loose clay-brick falling off his chest, and down through his lap. He could see his wife of 18 years, and daughter of 16, following suit in his effort to get back on firm footing. Approaching her husband, Regina implored “Zephyr, any idea of what just happened? How long have we been unconcious?” Looking at his wristwatch, a Navy-issued deep-sea diving watch “acquired” from his service with the recently-disbanded SEAL’s, Zephyr answered “Looks like it’s only been 5 or 10 minutes. As for what happened, you should know the basics, as well as I…or are you no longer the top-notch war-goddess I married so long ago?” “Assume nothing, Zephyr, but, yes, I did hear TR-79′s on approach, but, you know, as well as I, that we get a lot of that around here,” responded Regina, with a loving yet derided sneer. “True, true, but, it just seems too convenient.”

Meanwhile, as Zephyr and Regina continued to discuss the situation at hand, they had failed to notice that Christian was on a bit of a tangent of her own. To her dismay, niether her mother nor her father had yet given thought to the current status of her much-loved bodyguard-cyborg, “Uriel,” so, she though it her duty to check up on him.

Christina carefully made her way down the 2nd-story hallway, and towards the landing, where she found the stairs to be in good working order, and cautiously headed downward. She made her way towards her room, where she had last left Uriel. The door, as was usual, was closed and locked under key – a luxury afforded to her by her parents, due to her culturally-unusual reliable and intelligent nature. On the recurrent advice and reminders of Zephyr, who knew too well the hazards of war and animosity, Christian refrained from knocking on the door (as would’ve been her normal habit) and, as slowly as possible, keyed, unlocked, and crept the door open. When she’d opened the door almost halfway, she let out a scream of terror that no parent ever wishes to hear.

“Reggie,” exclaimed Zephyr,” that’s Christian…follow me!” The two ex-marines let their training take over…Zephyr took point, and Regina tailed him, ensuring no unknown threats stood behind them. They stormed down the stairs, and into Christian’s room, where they found Christian, unharmed, but crying, and a cyborg-gargoyle who was no longer quite as lucky as his now-devastated owner, master, and best friend…