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n3m3sis43"Ow!" CallaBot yells. "You're hurting me with that thing! Are you almost done?"
"I warned you it was going to be painful," I tell her, "It's big."
"That's not what Devin's mom told me last night," Wes snickers.
"Yeah, right," Devin mutters, not even looking away from the wall in front of him, where his SimFighting match with Wes is projected. Seconds later, a large explosion appears, engulfing Wes's SimFighter.
"What the hell?" Wes yells. "How did you even do that?"
"The fact that you suck at this game helps a lot." Taking off his SimFighting headset, Devin comes over to watch me work. I make the final adjustments to CallaBot's circuitry and set the laserdrill back in my toolbox.
"That should do it," I tell her. "Your translator nanochip should be up and running now."
"So, how does this thing work?" CallaBot asks.
"Hell if I know," I shrug. "Devin's the one who designed the chip."
"I modified your nanoblaster with a new 'language nanites' setting," Devin says. "When you fire the blaster, it stuns your victim and shoots nanites into his brain. There might be a little sting, but it shouldn't cause any other ill effects. Then the chip Kalen just installed will communicate with the nanites so you can speak and understand the other person's language."
"Well, unless you run into people who speak some sort of really atypical language," Wes cuts in. "You know, like on that one episode of NebulaQuest?"
"My translator nanochip apparently doesn't work for Dweebenese. What the hell are you talking about?" It's amazing how proficient CallaBot has gotten with her death-glares, even with a robotic face.
"Basically," Wes says, "The crew of the Discovery encounters a race that speaks only in metaphors. Their translators don't help much, because the metaphors of that culture mean nothing to them."
"Yeah, except that would never happen in real life," Devin interjects, "because it's fucking stupid."
"Well, if it's so 'fucking stupid', then how come it's consistently named one of the top 10 NebulaQuest episodes of all time?" Wes demands.
"You guys are like an old married couple," I say, shaking my head.
Just then, the door to the basement opens. My older brother Brendan lumbers into the room, dressed in formal attire and looking irritated. His gait is oddly stiff.
"What's going on, bro? You pull a muscle working out?"
Unlike me, Brendan has kept up with his exercise regimen since he moved into Wes and Devin's house. In fact, if anything, he's even bigger and brawnier than before. It's probably because he doesn't have the same interests the rest of us do. Most of the time, he keeps to himself, training for the day he'll get his very own part in the War.
"No, it's this fucking suit," he grumbles. "It's tight as hell. Who'd they design this thing for, a male model?"
"It's a prototype created for marketing purposes," Devin reminds him, "So, probably."
"Couldn't you have had it altered, though?" Brendan demands. "You dorks can stockpile enough weapons to end the world, but you can't find a fucking tailor?"
"Maybe you shouldn't have waited until the last minute to try it on." Devin raises one eyebrow at my brother. "Anyway, if you take it off, I'll run it through the duplicator and modify the specs to generate a larger version."
"Condescending asshole," Brendan mutters under his breath as he strips down to his boxers.
"You might want to stop calling me names, you lunkhead, or I'm going to turn these pants into a tutu."
"You wouldn't," Brendan growls.
"Try me," Devin smirks.
Here we go again, I think, rubbing at my temples. The constant bickering in this house makes my head hurt. If I thought Wes and Devin squabbled a lot, well, that was before Brendan moved in here. Devin and my brother have never gotten along. You'd think they could put that aside for today, since it might be the last time they see each other alive.
You'd think so, but apparently you'd be wrong.
* * * * *
"Okay, Brendan, let's review the plan one more time." My stomach is roiling. I think I'm more nervous than he is.
"We've been over it ten times already. I think I've got it." Brendan says.
"Come on, just one more time, for me?" I'm stalling for time. What if he doesn't make it back?
"Fine, bro, whatever." Brendan's being unusually patient with me. "CallaBot and I will turn on our InvisiSuits and go to the WeaponsDev building."
"You should be able to just walk right in." Devin breaks in. "The security nanochip I've wired to your neurovision interface should command the doors to open. Since the explosive suit technology is so new, the bomb-sniffers shouldn't be able to detect it. If you run into any security robots, CallaBot's universal translator should allow her to communicate with them and convince them you're no threat."
"Then I just head for the center of the building, remove the explosive suit, and run. Right?" Brendan finishes.
"You got it, bro," I tell him.
"Once you're clear of the building, let me know. I'll use the back door I created in the suit's interface to explode it, along with WeaponsDev itself," Devin's eyes are shining with excitement and he seems like himself for the first time in months. "This is gonna be fucking epic!"
I'm glad someone's feeling happy about this. Me, it's all I can do not to vomit on my boots. This is my brother putting his life at risk. If anything happens to him, I'll be in a world of hurt.
"Hey Brendan," I say, clasping him in an awkward man-hug. "I know we don't always see eye to eye, but - " He doesn't let me finish.
"Come on, Kalen. You know I'm no good at this feelings crap. No need for teary goodbyes. I'll be back in an hour, maybe two. Besides, this is what I was born to do." Brendan punches me in the arm so hard I wince.
"Brendan, seriously," Devin says, "If anything goes wrong, run like hell. Don't try to be a hero. Just get out."
"Why, Devin," Brendan simpers in a high-pitched feminine voice, "I didn't know you cared."
"I don't, man. But without you around, there won't be anyone Wes can beat at SimFighting."
Author's Note:
In case you were curious, the comments about NebulaQuest in the opening section were inspired by the "Darmok" episode of Star Trek: The Next Generation. If somehow Devin didn't make my thoughts on the episode crystal clear, check out this super-old Green Room Thread, courtesy of the fact that I rarely clean out my comment notifications.
"I warned you it was going to be painful," I tell her, "It's big."
"That's not what Devin's mom told me last night," Wes snickers.
"Yeah, right," Devin mutters, not even looking away from the wall in front of him, where his SimFighting match with Wes is projected. Seconds later, a large explosion appears, engulfing Wes's SimFighter.
"What the hell?" Wes yells. "How did you even do that?"
"The fact that you suck at this game helps a lot." Taking off his SimFighting headset, Devin comes over to watch me work. I make the final adjustments to CallaBot's circuitry and set the laserdrill back in my toolbox.
"That should do it," I tell her. "Your translator nanochip should be up and running now."
"So, how does this thing work?" CallaBot asks.
"Hell if I know," I shrug. "Devin's the one who designed the chip."
"I modified your nanoblaster with a new 'language nanites' setting," Devin says. "When you fire the blaster, it stuns your victim and shoots nanites into his brain. There might be a little sting, but it shouldn't cause any other ill effects. Then the chip Kalen just installed will communicate with the nanites so you can speak and understand the other person's language."
"Well, unless you run into people who speak some sort of really atypical language," Wes cuts in. "You know, like on that one episode of NebulaQuest?"
"My translator nanochip apparently doesn't work for Dweebenese. What the hell are you talking about?" It's amazing how proficient CallaBot has gotten with her death-glares, even with a robotic face.
"Basically," Wes says, "The crew of the Discovery encounters a race that speaks only in metaphors. Their translators don't help much, because the metaphors of that culture mean nothing to them."
"Yeah, except that would never happen in real life," Devin interjects, "because it's fucking stupid."
"Well, if it's so 'fucking stupid', then how come it's consistently named one of the top 10 NebulaQuest episodes of all time?" Wes demands.
"You guys are like an old married couple," I say, shaking my head.
Just then, the door to the basement opens. My older brother Brendan lumbers into the room, dressed in formal attire and looking irritated. His gait is oddly stiff.
"What's going on, bro? You pull a muscle working out?"
Unlike me, Brendan has kept up with his exercise regimen since he moved into Wes and Devin's house. In fact, if anything, he's even bigger and brawnier than before. It's probably because he doesn't have the same interests the rest of us do. Most of the time, he keeps to himself, training for the day he'll get his very own part in the War.
"No, it's this fucking suit," he grumbles. "It's tight as hell. Who'd they design this thing for, a male model?"
"It's a prototype created for marketing purposes," Devin reminds him, "So, probably."
"Couldn't you have had it altered, though?" Brendan demands. "You dorks can stockpile enough weapons to end the world, but you can't find a fucking tailor?"
"Maybe you shouldn't have waited until the last minute to try it on." Devin raises one eyebrow at my brother. "Anyway, if you take it off, I'll run it through the duplicator and modify the specs to generate a larger version."
"Condescending asshole," Brendan mutters under his breath as he strips down to his boxers.
"You might want to stop calling me names, you lunkhead, or I'm going to turn these pants into a tutu."
"You wouldn't," Brendan growls.
"Try me," Devin smirks.
Here we go again, I think, rubbing at my temples. The constant bickering in this house makes my head hurt. If I thought Wes and Devin squabbled a lot, well, that was before Brendan moved in here. Devin and my brother have never gotten along. You'd think they could put that aside for today, since it might be the last time they see each other alive.
You'd think so, but apparently you'd be wrong.
"Okay, Brendan, let's review the plan one more time." My stomach is roiling. I think I'm more nervous than he is.
"We've been over it ten times already. I think I've got it." Brendan says.
"Come on, just one more time, for me?" I'm stalling for time. What if he doesn't make it back?
"Fine, bro, whatever." Brendan's being unusually patient with me. "CallaBot and I will turn on our InvisiSuits and go to the WeaponsDev building."
"You should be able to just walk right in." Devin breaks in. "The security nanochip I've wired to your neurovision interface should command the doors to open. Since the explosive suit technology is so new, the bomb-sniffers shouldn't be able to detect it. If you run into any security robots, CallaBot's universal translator should allow her to communicate with them and convince them you're no threat."
"Then I just head for the center of the building, remove the explosive suit, and run. Right?" Brendan finishes.
"You got it, bro," I tell him.
"Once you're clear of the building, let me know. I'll use the back door I created in the suit's interface to explode it, along with WeaponsDev itself," Devin's eyes are shining with excitement and he seems like himself for the first time in months. "This is gonna be fucking epic!"
I'm glad someone's feeling happy about this. Me, it's all I can do not to vomit on my boots. This is my brother putting his life at risk. If anything happens to him, I'll be in a world of hurt.
"Hey Brendan," I say, clasping him in an awkward man-hug. "I know we don't always see eye to eye, but - " He doesn't let me finish.
"Come on, Kalen. You know I'm no good at this feelings crap. No need for teary goodbyes. I'll be back in an hour, maybe two. Besides, this is what I was born to do." Brendan punches me in the arm so hard I wince.
"Brendan, seriously," Devin says, "If anything goes wrong, run like hell. Don't try to be a hero. Just get out."
"Why, Devin," Brendan simpers in a high-pitched feminine voice, "I didn't know you cared."
"I don't, man. But without you around, there won't be anyone Wes can beat at SimFighting."
Author's Note:
In case you were curious, the comments about NebulaQuest in the opening section were inspired by the "Darmok" episode of Star Trek: The Next Generation. If somehow Devin didn't make my thoughts on the episode crystal clear, check out this super-old Green Room Thread, courtesy of the fact that I rarely clean out my comment notifications.
