Hymn of Harmony
or Melody of Escalation
First Arc 1.2
This dream again. I can't open my eyes, but I can still everything going on around me. The lap pillow is back as is the soothing presence.
"...completely and utterly wasteful...it's like they weren't even trying to iron out the waste of energy..." The kind voice this time sounds frustrated. I get the feeling she's not even paying attention to me as I hear the sound of fingers clattering away at a keyboard at speeds even professional typists would fail to match.
"Each of these "Shards" possesses a self contained set of programming that is attuned to each specific recipient, but why in such a slipshod manner? It's like they don't even care that they are severely damaging or even outright fracturing the psyche." Fingers run through my hair and I squirm just a bit closer to the touch. There's a slight stillness as if I've caught them off guard.
"So you're here again are you?" Her warm voice greets me and I smile. "I wonder how long you were going to allow me to talk to myself, hmmm?" She teases me and I open my mouth to respond, but she gently touches my lips again. "Now is not the time, dear. There is so much to do and so little time to do it. I'm sorry. I know you wish you had an explanation for all of this, but I can't give you one just yet. It's not safe." She sounds so sad that I instinctively reach up and touch her face. Even without being able to see her I somehow know where she is and I feel her somehow inside of me. A darkness is within her, but unlike the kind that conceals dangers it feels like a warm blanket at night.
There is a sense of separation and sorrowful farewell, but I will be back again. Somehow I feel like I have come away with more than I came with. It is with this final thought that I...
-January 15, 2011-
"Taylor, wake up! Breakfast is ready!" Dad's voice pierces through the last fog of sleep. Food sounds like a great idea. Since I got back from the hospital I've noticed a difference in my appetite. I'm not suddenly eating stacks and stacks of plate, but my metabolism has sped up. Great if I want to go out for sports, but it would probably be murder on a food budget. I stop to admire myself in the mirror. This has become something of an early morning ritual. I still can't believe just how good I look. Long chestnut brown hair, blue eyes shining with life, skin that glowed flawlessly. Dad laughs at my new vain streak, but is just as happy as I am.
I throw on my smallest t-shirt from last year to show off what curves I've developed and slip on my jeans. When you have boy hips you tend to buy smaller jeans, but that's biting me in the rear right now. I can close them easily once they're up, but they take a near act of God to get over my new hips. Breakfast is on the table when I get there. Pancakes, sausage, eggs, toast, fruit, and juice. Dad will benefit from the new diet too. He ruffles my hair as he walks past.
"I left a prepaid card for you. Don't worry about going too crazy. Just get what you need and maybe a few things for yourself. I mean it, Taylor. You will treat yourself." He waves his finger at me with a mock stern expression and I roll my eyes. He hasn't told me exactly how much we're getting, but with the way he's acting it must have been a large concession. He also won't explain the slightly pensive look he's sporting lately. He's not sad, depressed, or angry. Just pensive. My senses are sharpening little by little. I still need my glasses, but my...symphonic sense...is growing more acute. Symphonic sense? That feels right.
"Fine. You win!" I hold my hands up in surrender, "I'll do as you say." I even salute which earns me another fond head pat as he hustles for the door. He took as much time as he could off and he agreed to overtime in exchange for the services of the lawyer. No such thing as a free lunch indeed. Michael's help was a blessing for sure. I check the balance on the card and end up staring at it in shock. The card is immediately stuffed in my wallet and in my pocket. He left me fifteen hundred dollars. What does he think I'm going to buy? Designer? Hmmm...no no no. Stop thinking about that. Stop.
"I will not spend the whole amount." That settled I head out the door for the bus stop. The Bay back when my mom and dad first met was far more alive than it is now. With Leviathan killing the shipping trade, and the boats sunk in the harbor, work for the Dockworker's Association is scare. Dad does all he can to find work for everyone. Just looking out the window of the bus is depressing. The gangs control everything. Empire 88 is predominantly made up of skinheads and Neo Nazis with a larger collection of capes than even the Protectorate. The Azyn Bad Boys are an Asian gang that has remained in power due to the psycho cape Oni Lee, but mostly because of Lung. The Dragon of Kyushu. The only one to have ever gone toe to toe with Leviathan. The Merchants just squat in whatever is left. They peddle drugs and even their capes aren't very impressive.
My musings are cut short as we arrive at the Boardwalk. The Boardwalk is the shopping hub for Brockton Bay. It used to be more glamorous back when the shipping industry was booming, but it still manages to hold it's own. That can also be directly credited to the hero group New Wave. They're an independent team that believes in public accountability and refuses to hide behind masks. It never caught on after one of their members, Fleur, was brutally murdered.
I refuse to let a nice day go to waste while I think about depressing stuff. Today's musical accompaniment is something bright and uplifting. There's even a silvery horn in there with a light guitar and relaxed feel. Today is going to be a good day.
I'm not a fashion expert, and my idea of "high fashion" has been whatever is on the bargain rack. Also the whole body issue where wearing more feminine clothing would have been a waste. I banish those thoughts from my mind as I set in for some window shopping. It's not like I'm on a schedule or anything and it's free to look. There appears to be a sale at one of the boutiques so that becomes my next stop.
The last time I actually went shopping, and not just in the general grabbing whatever was available, was with Emma. I never saw the fun in it, but she enjoyed just picking things out to try on. The music in the boutique has a refined quality. A jazzy feel with a brassy saxophone. I'm letting the melody wash over me as my hands are almost moving themselves over the clothes. Intruding on the jazz, but strangely complimenting it, is the sound of a skittering harp. Such an out of place sound causes me to actually look in the direction it's coming from.
The girl that was approaching me is a dirty blonde with cute freckles across her nose and a vulpine grin. The look in her eyes is one of playful, but calculating, amusement. She briefly looks startled when I meet her gaze and that calculating look ratchets up a few degrees. I feel myself smiling as I think that I've got her pegged. A natural born busybody, cunning and smart, but likes to be the center of attention. Sneaking up on me wasn't being done maliciously, but more out of boredom and needing entertainment. An eyebrow raises as she appraises me further and all at once she giggles.
"So that's what it's like being on the receiving end." She says in a teasing tone, but also a bit chagrined. I shake my head.
"Sometimes you're the hunter and sometimes you're the lunch." I quip. The girl nods her head in mock sagacity.
"Indeed, indeed, and here I thought I was being stealthy. What's your secret?"
"You show me yours and I'll show you mine." That statement startles us both and identical blushes steal across our faces.
"Well now that we're both completely embarrassed...Hi! I'm Lisa!" She sticks her hand out and I give it a firm shake.
"Taylor." And just like that it felt as if we clicked. She clearly knew more about shopping than I did. This wasn't a shopping trip. This was war and no one taught Lisa how to take any prisoners. We ended up leaving the boutique with three bags apiece and feeling good. I was now wearing a black tank over a white sweater that clung to my body just right and fell over my hips while the skinny jeans and black half boots completed the look. My new jacket was just the right cut. I expected to pay more than I did, but as I said, Lisa is good at this.
The two of us talked about little things. Our likes and dislikes. What we think of the latest fads. For the first time in years I felt like a normal girl. We stopped for a quick lunch at Fugly Bob's before heading back out again. As we passed by the electronics store I found myself hit by the sight of all the shiny gadgets.
"You did say you didn't have a cellphone. Why don't you get one? It's not like you couldn't find one for cheap." Lisa suggests with a shrug. I nod slowly. It was a cellphone that caused mom's accident, but if something happened to me, or Dad, then I needed a way to be reached.
"That's probably a good idea." We head inside and that desire for something shiny is only growing stronger. I wasn't thinking about being a parahuman today. Is this what they mean by a Tinker fever? I check my mind for any new blueprints for technology that involves the things before me and find nothing. Oh, I have some great ideas for putting together a computer, but it's not like I'm planning on building a reactor out of clock parts.
I don't skimp when I buy the phone. I got a brand new model smartphone and gave Lisa the number. Once that was taken care of I got a new laptop for on the go work. I dithered over the computer parts until Lisa took me aside.
"Taylor, what's wrong?" She sounds so concerned, but there's also a spark like she understands.
"It's just...I read on the PHO board..." I start only for her to put a finger on my lips to silence me. I lick her fingertip causing her to jerk her hand back with a rueful look.
"Don't believe everything you read on PHO." Her tone sounded as dry as the Sahara. That killed my worry. She wasn't worried. Why was I? I know, intellectually, that much of what's on Parahumans Online is bunk, but caution keeps you safe, right? I finish my purchases and arrange to have them delivered to my house. Lisa tilts her head to the side as I make my selections.
"If I got you the parts could you put a computer together for me? I'll even pay for the labor of course..." I shake my head at her.
"You don't have to pay me. I'd be glad to help." Why did the harp slow down for a moment? Guilt? Maybe she doesn't like the idea of having me do it for free. "I'd like to think we're friends now or am I wrong?" I smile reassuringly. The guilt is back even worse for a moment before she suddenly hugs me.
"You are just too good to be true. Fine. We're friends, but if you ever need anything feel free to ask." She sounds so serious I can only nod dumbly in response. Just like that the intense atmosphere fades. I feel like I missed something, but I let it go for now. Plenty of time to think about it later. I pick up a few tools for working on electronics. Care and maintenance mostly, but also for building.
"Thanks for all the help. I'm not sure I could have got even half the deals that you did, Lisa." She was a godsend today.
"It's fine. You're no dummy. I think you would have done well enough on your own." It looks like she wants to say something else just before she takes my hand and leads me into an alleyway. How did she know someone was following us? I knew because there was a sound of almost a malignant harpsichord. The man behind us follows us down the alleyway. Lisa doesn't even look at me as she says, "Just keep moving. We'll just take this turn up ahead and be right back out on the Boardwalk. Let's get some ice cream after this, okay?" Her tone attempts to be light, but the worry is real.
Something inside of me pulses in agitation. A dark light swirls within my mind and reaches an accord with my heart. I pull my hand away from Lisa with a strength I didn't know I possessed. She looks scared as she tries to get me to come back.
"Taylor no! Come on!" She tries to grab my shoulder, but I move just before she reaches me. The young man looks amused. Young, Asian, in the red and green of the ABB.
"Dayum...did I get lucky or what? I was just gonna follow ya, but if you wanna come to me I ain't gonna...urk!" That "urk" was because I don't let assholes monologue. It gets you killed. My foot inscribed a perfect arc right between his legs and doubled him over right into my suddenly rising knee that jerked his head back. He hits the ground like a felled tree. His melody quieting to a faint whisper.
"Wow...okay forget what I was saying...you can really take care of yourself." I hear Lisa as if from far away. Her arm slips around my back comfortingly as she leads me from the alley. Her voice is soothing, "That was well done. Reckless, but well done. You've never been in a fight before have you? How did you know how to do that?" She takes on a musing tone as she continues, "Didn't know how to fight, but could see the flow. Was able to make accurate guesses about probable actions." She shakes her head.
Did she just Sherlock Scan me? A cold reading of my ability. I didn't even know I could do that, but I let myself go with the flow. It wasn't anything particularly impressive as far as a trained fighter could do, but he wasn't really trained. How do I know that? I shake my head in confusion, but I don't let it get to me. Her gentle words draw me out of the shock I'm feeling at the sudden rush of combat.
"Hey...how about that ice cream?" I smile and am rewarded with an answering smile.
All good things come to an end and I had a delivery to be home to receive. I managed to get in the door minutes before the delivery man dropped off my computer purchases. Now that I was home there was something that needed to be focused on and that was my phone. The reason for that? I can hear my phone. It has a melody all it's own. A lone musical voice, but every bit as important to the harmony. Suddenly the background music I'm hearing makes sense.
What does it say that even machines have a melody? A human's melody is more complex and has a more sweeping dynamic, but electronics have a more static one. Colored by the people they reside around. I can sense emotions held in objects.
"Humanity is the common factor. What makes us so unique bleeds into the world around us." I grab my notebook and begin writing all of this down. Soon I'll be putting my computer together and then I can make my notes even more secure. It makes me wonder what I can find at the junkyard. What sort of lost treasures might be there?
"Well it's an idea. Maybe I am a Tinker?" I notice, belatedly, that I've been chewing on my pen and stop myself. Dinner is something else from mom's recipe book and I tell my dad how my day went minus fighting the gangbanger.
"Why don't you bring her around sometime?" He suggests.
"I'm thinking about it. I have her number so I could give her a call." This is the moment of truth. "I bought a smartphone today." I try for casual. The oboe stops for a moment before it starts up again. A heavier weight added to the tone, but he doesn't appear mad.
"I suppose...it's something you need isn't it..?" He muses heavily, "Maybe if you had that in the locker..." I place my hand on his forearm.
"It still would have happened. It's no one's fault, but theirs." My voice is firm and insistent. The oboe lightens again. I want my dad to feel better about all of this. The fact that I can "hear" his heart and mind makes it easier. My head lowers as I think about that. Am I doing the right thing? Am I manipulating him? I don't feel like it, but that might be worse.
"Penny for your thoughts?" Dad breaks into my spiraling thoughts.
"You know how I told you about my ability to hear people's mental states as music..." I begin only to be interrupted.
"There is nothing wrong with acting on what you know. As long as you can say that you're not using it to harm then you're okay. You don't want to hurt me, right?" I shake my head rapidly in denial and he laughs, "Then you're fine. It's no different than someone that can read microexpressions or that trains in psychology. You have a natural talent and a heart to use it properly." With that said he returns to his meatloaf.
I have the coolest dad.
My Sunday can be best described as a treasure hunt. Okay, that's what I'm calling it, and no one can convince me otherwise. I called Lisa to see if she wanted to come, but apparently her Sunday doesn't consist of glorified dumpster diving. This wasn't dumpster diving! This was a treasure hunt! My clothes for today consisted of old things that wouldn't have been worn to school under any circumstance. A sweatshirt and jeans from my dad that I looped a belt through to keep them up. A sturdy pair of hiking boots completed the ensemble. My hair was tied back in a ponytail under a baseball cap.
The old man that acts as security for the junkyard gave me a wave through. He pointed out the shopping carts that could be used to carry around what I find. I wasn't planning on grabbing quite that much, but you never know. I didn't mean to buy three bags of clothes either, or those computer parts, but there you have it.
The melodies in this place were sad in a way. The muted strains of woodwinds, strings, and brass playing softly with a melancholic air as the broken things around me contributed to the harmony. I promised them that some would find purpose again. A strange thing happened then. The harmony shifted. There was a detectable air of urgency and excitement to the song. As I followed the tune it seemed to swell and direct me. I turned myself over to the flow again and found myself standing before a mound of electronics. Half hidden under a trash pile and protected from the elements. Was that a PRT logo on one of those boxes?
"This is first class treasure." My voice was almost chirpy as I started gathering up the pieces that called to me the loudest. Their music clamoring for me to take them all, but I could also tell that I had enough. With a sad sigh I apologized, but the harmony forgave me. I called a cab because there was no way I was getting all of this on the bus. The old man looked over my loot with an appraising eye.
"Those PRT guys are always throwin' perfectly good things away...every Thursday like clockwork. It's a shame." He shakes his head and I give him another look. His melody sounds like the strains of a folk guitar. Pleasant and easy to listen to. An uncomplicated song that can stand alone or blend in with others. I decided to listen. If I could come out with a few more hauls like this one I would be set.
The old man helped me get the things into the cab, but it was up to me to get them in the house. The cabbie screwed himself out of a tip with that stunt. Now how was I going to do this? I had several parts to build a wi-fi relay and network hub. It wouldn't be amazing, but it would be functional. I hooked up the computer upstairs. That was the easy part really.
The hard part involved the rest of my treasure. My loot. The basement is the least used room in the house. It's dry and cool, but neither my dad or I are basement people. Since no one is using it at this time I can build my mad device. It won't be pretty, but it will work. The parts could care less if they look pretty as long as they have a purpose again. Maybe I am a Tinker? I've never felt the urge to build a computer or a network hub before. Never even knew how, but here I am mucking about with the innards and humming happily. I can see how the parts should go together and the harmony is aiding me. There are a few parts though that I'm forced to set aside. These parts are moved to the work bench for future examination.
I was right. The machine wasn't pretty, but it was purring like a kitten and striking up a song to beat the band. I flicked it on and it was glorious. Wi-fi is free in the main part of the city, but out here there isn't. The only wireless is what people pay for, but my hub has an effective range to tap it for free. A few adjustments to my laptop and computer connect them. I look at the icon on my desktop with a puzzled frown.
"Why did I build a signal scrambler anyway?" Oh right. Just because Lisa said there isn't anything to be afraid of the old saying of an ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure. I'd rather have a pound of prevention.
I started dinner cooking. A nice pot roast with fingerling potatoes, onions, and caramelized carrots. While that was being prepared I decided to examine those strange pieces of tech. What I found surprised me. Their melody was exceptionally complex and confused. Oh there was a song there, but it sounded like a roomful of hyperactive children pounding on instruments. There were things that were unnecessary, some things were contradictory, but some were strange. There was an anti-harmony. It felt strange and uncomfortable like it resented me trying to examine the tech.
Well that just wasn't gonna fly with me. Who the hell did that melody think I am? I'm the Songstress. I'm the one that supports and protects the melody. The Harmony. I bent my will on that anti-harmony and almost immediately it tried to fight back, but it wasn't up to the task. How could it fight me? I have the full Harmony, the Symphonic sense, behind me.
"No, you are going to behave yourself, and share your toys." I tell it sternly. The discordant melody relinquishes the song and sulks. Given time it will eventually rejoin the orchestra properly, but for now it's been defeated and feeling ungracious. I have an idea of what these can be repurposed to build. That's the sight my dad comes home to and I'm pretty sure I looked strange. I had to occasionally scold, plead, and praise the parts to get them to do what I wanted. Giving no thought to why they had such a complex song.
"Whatcha got there, kiddo?" Dad asked me.
"A bunch of wild children in desperate need of discipline, but we're getting there..." My tongue sticks out as I manage to finagle two pieces into the greater whole.
"Mmm...something smells good. Why don't I get that out of the oven for you?" He suggests as he heads into the kitchen.
"Thanks!" With the final connection the device sparks to life. This is the answer to our energy problems. Okay, it's the answer to my energy problems, because we didn't have them until I built my Frankenstein computer.
"So what do you call that?" Dad asks from over my shoulder.
"Sol Reactor." The name sounds right and feels right. The device hums pleasantly in response.
"As long as you don't blow up the house." He says jokingly before asking, "Are you ready to go back to school tomorrow?" Like that my good mood crashes. I hadn't thought about school at all. Tomorrow I had to deal with the Trio again. The no contact order isn't the same as a PFA or restraining order. It still meant we were in the same school together. The device in my hand feels like such a reassuring weight. I'm not the same Taylor Hebert that was bullied for all that time. I'm the new me. The confident me. If they can't except it?
They won't be a problem.