Wonder City Stories

There has been a lot of freelancing and some writer's block lately, therefore this update is stupidly late. I apologize. However, I have attempted to provide you with downloadable versions of this episode -- I hope they work for the folks who want them!



Of All My Demon Spirits

Normally, I have a professional ethic against looking up any information I accidentally glean from telepathic contact with anyone. I don't want to violate their privacy more than I've already done. I don't want to become curious for more information, because even that subconscious urge might be enough to allow me to walk into their minds again in search of more tidbits. I do my best to forget it.

After waking up from incredibly intense and vivid dreams for a week, though, I got online and looked up just who the flaming hell this "Bernie" was I was, as Jane, sleeping with.

Some poking around found me this entry on Parapedia:

Bernadette Andruzzi
Code Name: Spare Change
Born: June 14, 1923 in Philadelphia, PA
Died: April 10, 1965 in Wonder City, PA
Para ability: Shapechanging

Bernadette ("Bernie") Andruzzi was a Class 7 shapechanger, capable of exactly reproducing another human being's form, down to details such as the fingerprints and retinal patterns. It is unknown as to whether she also replicated the powers of paranormals she changes into—there are no records of her using powers other than her own Class 2 superstrength and Class 3 invulnerability.

Her shapechanging ability was originally rated by the U.S. Army as Class 3 [this cited her declassified enlistment record]; it is unknown how her abilities were enhanced.

History
Very little is known about Andruzzi's private life. She was born to a large family in Philadelphia, the second generation of the family born in the United States. Andruzzi rarely discussed her parents or siblings. (Searches of ParaDB.gov find two other people with her surname, neither identified with a similar paranormal ability, and no indication of relationship.) She enlisted in the Women’s Army Auxiliary Corps in May 1942.

Her service throughout World War 2 is still classified, but biographers have gleaned enough information to determine that she mostly served as a spy in fascist Italy, passing information to Allied forces. After the war, she remained on the Gold Stars roster until her death.

Death
In 1964, the Gold Stars announced that Andruzzi was being placed on indefinite medical leave. In a rare interview with Andruzzi in late 1964, she stated that she had inoperable pancreatic cancer and expressed frustration that her paranormal abilities were extending her life in a way that was "nearly intolerable." She died at the home of her longtime friend Jane Liberty on April 10, 1965.

Personal Life
Andruzzi never married, nor was she ever romantically linked with any of her colleagues. She occasionally appeared at Gold Stars events with a nonparanormal celebrity companion. In the 1964 interview, she stated that her friends in the Gold Stars were her family and she had never had a need for romance in her life. Her closest friends were Jane Liberty and Betsy Starr. Andruzzi and Liberty both attended Starr's college and law school graduations, and Andruzzi appeared at the baptism of Starr's daughter Florence (of the team known as Ebb and Flo) as her godmother in March 1965.

There were very few pictures with the article: one of her during the War with Jane and Betsy, one of her appearing at the Hollywood premiere of "The Three Musketeers" in 1948 as Vincent Price's date, and one of her in a Gold Stars lineup in 1960. She looked a lot like Jane, actually, though she was taller and more statuesque to Jane's shorter and chunkier look.

I shut the windows and sat back, staring at the screensaver. I knew why I'd been having the dreams. Given my own history, with its dearth of consensual sexual experiences, one of the things my subconscious seeks out—and which I try desperately to guard against—is other people's experiences to fill the gap. Unfortunately, when I'm distracted and can't guard against my subconscious, I'll pick up way too much information. And that whole situation was one giant distraction. I expected that in addition to the Jane stuff, I probably had too much information about Brainchild's pansexual adventures stuffed away somewhere in my head.

A tiny corner of my mind was paranoid that Jane may've been consciously thinking about some of those things in order to leave some sort of legacy, or explanation, or something, after her death. I had known Jane for many years, and I knew that she had a manipulative streak in her. I suppose some of that comes from having to lie for so long to both the government and the public at large. She just got in the habit of lying to everyone, making all her own plans, and carrying them out without asking for permission.

I wondered if she'd enhanced Bernie's powers without asking, or if Bernie had asked, or if the government had ordered Jane to do it.

I resigned myself to a few more months of these dreams and occasional flashbacks while conscious, because my mind was going to continue to chew on these stolen memories, will I or nil I. And I would rather have obsessive thoughts about some people who were dead than end up having to talk to a living person, like Nereid, whose sex life I probably knew way too much about anyway, while thinking naked thoughts about her.

Floribunda came thundering in at that moment and bounded into my lap, which, of course, knocked the wind out of me and spun the chair around with both of us in it. She had that crazy, wild-eyed look of a dog who just decided that it is the Time of Scampering and after one full rotation of the chair, she leaped off and galloped out, butt slightly tucked under and ears swept back in full-speed mode. When I could breathe again, I started laughing and couldn't stop until I staggered out of the room to strip off and throw myself into the swimming pool. I think she's glad to be home too.

When last we gathered here in Wonder City, Tinkermel and Tizemt, with help from Angelica, Simon, Ivy, and the Sparklebutch Posse, had just put in motion the resistance's initial plan to resist the alien invasion of Earth. And now we continue with weekly posting after our slightly-longer-than-we-meant hiatus. Thank you so much for your patience!


Go to Yellow Alert

There was one head of state in Africa who I had a very pleasant conversation with, letting him know just enough to guess that he was under the dictates of an alien invasion fleet (I'm not sure he got to the "alien" part, but he got the "superior firepower" part). He agreed to pull in the reins on some aggressive initiatives his government was considering toward a neighbor. Another became reasonable when I possessed his motor centers so he wrote himself notes, in his own language and handwriting. The notes revealed to him at least the superior firepower part of things, and that the way to avoid "action" was to find a way to create peace in his rather turbulent region. He wasn't sure how to go about it, so I made a few suggestions in terms of intelligent advisors (who I'd done some research on) he could consult, and left him to it, promising that he was being watched.

Two countries down, 60-odd to go. I wondered if I would continue to feel as disgustingly colonialist after every subsequent conversation as I did after those two, or if it wore off, and that's how Western politicians managed.

Apparently, I was using my powers enough, though, to avoid more meetings with Sara West, Mark West, or even Fluffy.

I was working out when the door ping came. I rolled to my feet, mopped my brow, and picked up a kettleweight that was near at hand. Floribunda attempted to compress herself into the space under my easy chair. (Note to self: Get one of the psychic dampeners for her collar to see if that helps her reaction to the aliens.) I gestured to turn down my fast-paced workout music and said, "Come in."

The Hoover rolled in when the door slid aside. There was something odd and reluctant in the motion, I thought. Or maybe hesitant? It was so hard to tell with a vacuum cleaner.

I had, however, learned to spot the markings on the bag (while ignoring the way it seemed to breathe) that indicated that this was probably Joshua.

We waited for the door to shut, and then I said, "What do you want, Joshua?"

It started to speak in the usual stilted monotone, but adjusted on the fly to my preferred speech mode. "I wish to confide in you, Renata Scott."

"Do you?" I said, and I could feel my eyebrows rising right on off my forehead. I bent over to set the weight in its rack.

"Yes," it said, totally missing the tone, which meant it was distracted, because it liked to catch nonverbal meanings. "I wish to tell you… something I have been told I should not."

More and more interesting. "I'm listening," I said, and even turned off the music.

It lowered its vocal volume. "The family in charge of this mission has, as you may have gathered, a militaristic viewpoint."

I nodded.

"Its decisionmakers are also…" Joshua paused. "... short of patience?"

"Okay," I said.

"Our mission is under some considerable pressure from our home fleet to clear the interference out of this region of space," Joshua said.

"Meaning psychic interference that keeps you from moving unimpeded?" I said.

"Yes," it replied. "We have been here for a long time. Several of your planet's years. And the mission is… not moving according to schedule."

"Humans are less tractable and peace-inclined than you'd hoped," I translated.

"I wanted to impart the knowledge that time is short," it replied, and began to roll away from me, toward the door.

"What will they do if they lose patience?" I said.

Joshua stopped rolling for a moment, then went on to the door. "I do not know," it said. "I have never participated in one of these missions before. All that I know is... hearsay." It managed to hint via tone that said hearsay was pretty doomful.

When the door shut, I went and dragged Floribunda out from under the chair and fussed her for a little while, chewing on the news. Then I had a seat (complete with Floribunda lapwarmer) and tightbeamed, We have a deadline now, but I don't know what it is, down to Sophie.

Something to distract you from the news of the real world. Let's pretend that Wonder City is somehow having a worse time than we are.


Where We Must Be

I stared at the Earth on the wall-sized screen that pretended to be a window in my exclusive, yet mandatory, penthouse. My dog slept on my lap, trailing a leg off one side and lolling her head off the other side. She snored, occasionally obscuring Billie Holiday's "Lady Sings the Blues". I kept music playing constantly now -- my "hosts" had put the entirety of any repository of music I'd requested at my disposal--and it made my confinement somewhat more tolerable.

I was lonelier than I'd ever been in my bunker under Wonder City.

I wondered how my mother was doing. I wondered if my sisters had noticed anything had changed in the world. I wished I knew where Ruth was. I considered trying to reach out to get hold of Oum Veha, my old friend in Cambodia. He and I usually communicated via a mental link -- he can't be around electronic devices easily, since he is a Class 10 electricity generator -- and he's one of the few people I think I can reach out to easily. But it occurred to me that the aliens had definitely neutralized one of the Class 10 club -- me -- and may have neutralized another -- Ruth -- so what was the chance they had him? Or, worse, had used one of the low-grade telepaths I'd sensed around the ship to somehow alter his mind?

Besides, I'd tried to reach him first thing and couldn't penetrate the shields.

So I sat and stared at the Earth, and wondered if I had any options at all in this clusterfuck, or if I would just be sitting here until some superheroes (or supervillains -- it had happened!) Saved The Day (TM).

Which is when there was a hesitant, barely discernable knock at my door.

I only really noticed it because it was in a break between Lady Day and my girl Nina. Floribunda raised her head, perked her ears, and looked at the door when it happened.

I thought about getting up, but could not summon sufficient damns to give to the effort, so just said loudly, "Come in."

The door opened after a moment. I swiveled the chair to look at my visitor.

She was the sort of woman who had probably been pop-and-fresh pretty at 16, with dark hair and big dark eyes and milky-white skin with a few strategic freckles. However, at what I guessed to be about thirty, she had wilted into one of those women with transparent skin and dark circles under her eyes and blue veins running over the backs of her hands. She was wearing a rumpled pink blouse with a polyester sheen and mommy jeans, and well-worn girly running shoes.

We stared at each other for a long moment as Nina sang along,
But oh, I'm just a soul whose intentions are good
Oh Lord, please don't let me be misunderstood.

Then I felt something sliding over my mind, something that I supposed to most people would feel like a soft fleecy blanket, but to me felt like...

Let's put it this way. I mostly only ever felt like that in middle school, before my trip to the institution, when some of the little white girls would feel up my hair and then ask permission to do so.

I mentally swatted at it, and it was sticky, clinging to my mind with gooey pink tendrils until I gathered my wits enough to just burn it the fuck out of my mind.

She recoiled hard, grabbing for the door jamb to hold herself up. Her other hand went to her forehead. "What happened?" she said in a soft, fading sort of voice.

"I just pushed you out of my skull," I said through gritted teeth. "In my world, it's polite to ask before you go fucking with someone's head." Unless it's a case of self-defense, I added to myself.

"Oh, I... I'm sorry," she said, checking her ponytail and the hair that was pulled tight against her scalp in front. "I just... I don't really control it. I mean, I never have controlled it, until now, and now I'm still not very good at it..."

I gave her a bored look. "Come in or go out," I said, laying a hand on Flori's neck. "I don't want my dog to get out." Lord only knows what she'd get into in a spaceship, I thought.

The woman made a little incoherently apologetic noise and scooted inside the doorway enough to the door slide shut behind her. That was not the side I'd hoped she'd choose.

"So I..." she began, but then she looked up, saw my extremely unwelcoming expression, and immediately stumbled over her words, flushing blotchily. She pulled her ponytail over her shoulder and nervously wound a strand of hair around and around her finger.

I let the silence fall. I found it vaguely interesting that Flori wasn't reacting as badly to this woman as she'd reacted to the man, but then I suspected that whatever mental bubblegum the woman emanated might work on dogs too. I'd have to check that later.

She sighed. "My husband told me about you," she assayed.

I raised my eyebrows. "Oh, so you're Mrs. Mark West." And the "the most powerful paranormal human" in the aliens' employ. "I'm sure he was very complimentary about me."

"No," she said. "My husband is a man of... fast judgments."

"Hasty, even," I said.

She gave me a fleeting vaguely hunted look from under her brows that made me think, Oh, hell no, I will not have to have this conversation here.

"So why are you here?" I said. "It would be nice if you'd get to the point. I have a busy schedule of dog-grooming and window-staring to get on with."

Aretha came in for a bit here, while girlfriend tangled her own hair up, singing about chains of fools. Hah.

"Do you have a name?" I finally said, and thought, Because I am so not calling you "Mrs. West," junior miss white lady.

She looked up at that, giving me a big-ass blank stare before saying, "Sara."

"And just so you know, my name is Renata Scott, though your husband probably referred to me by a different word altogether."

She flushed all blotchy again, and I knew I was right.

There was another long pause, long enough that Aretha finished up and we were back to Nina, and Nina was singing,
Now you're living high and mighty
Rich off the fat of the land
Just don't dispose of your natural soul
'Cause if you do you know damn well
That you'll go to hell (yes, you will)
You'll go to hell.

Finally I said, "Well, this has all been just stimulating..."

"I just wanted to know!" she said suddenly, clutching the end of her ponytail.

I waited.

"I just wanted to know," she repeated more softly, "if this... having all this power gets... easier. Because they gave it to me. I had it, only a little bit, before, and I didn't know it, but then they did something to me when I was sleeping -- Mark told them it was okay -- and now I have all this... this." She waved her hands in a helplessly grand gesture.

I watched her for a moment, lips pursed, and then said, "It depends what you're doing with it."

She met my gaze soppily, looking like she was about to burst into tears, looking like she wanted someone to pat her head and tell her it was all right. "I'm making the world a better place. Only it keeps not working the way I think it will."

"Then you're doing it wrong," I said bluntly. "Controlling other people is wrong, full stop. No matter what the aliens say, no matter what your charming hubbykins says."

"But there's so much I can do to help!" she exclaimed, taking three steps toward me, still with that look of appeal.

"If you think that before you think of the harm you can do," I said, "there's nothing more to be said." She staggered one more step, reaching out, opening her mouth to say something, and I snapped, "Don't come to me for comfort. I am no one's mammy, but especially not yours."

She made a little gasping noise, turned, and ran out of the room.

I sat and fumed for quite a while as I picked chewed bubblegum out of my dog's mind before it hardened and stuck. Nina went on to sing,

Some say that hell is below us
But I say it's right by my side
'Cause you see evil in the morning
Evil in the evening, all the time
You know damn well
That we all must be in hell
We got to be in hell
We all must be in hell
We must be in hell.