Sci Fi & Fantasy / The Power of Cool: Chapter 3

Chapter Three:
The Cool Calm Collected Colleagues Coach the
Caustic Central Character on Correct Coolness and Combat

_____________________________________

Tommy was walking through the empty hallways of the SCEDA headquarters. Last night they had all eaten a hearty dinner in celebration of their victory. They reclined on the soft leather furniture and watched George Romero's Dawn of the Dead while they ate fried chicken. Everyone had a great time, including Tommy, who was willing to give up his smart-ass comments for a few hours in order to enjoy the food and company.

Unfortunately, everyone had such a good time, that Tommy had a tough time getting to sleep. He was never really the kind of person to stay up late, so he retired to his room at midnight, only to be kept awake by the loud laughter and raucous music. It also didn't help that SCEDA had apparently decided that water beds were the coolest type of bed. The constant motion motion underneath him also helped keep Tommy awake. And despite the fact that The Commodore had told him that wake-up call was at eleven AM (since waking up late was apparently cool), Tommy had gotten so used to waking up early for school that he had woken up at nine-thirty. Since he couldn't get back to sleep, and since he didn't have anything better to do, he decided he would explore the base.

It indeed looked like your typical underground government base, but a closer inspection revealed that it was actually very odd. No surprise there. Firstly, despite it's large corridors and dozens of rooms, there appeared to only be seven people in the entire base: there were the five pilots, The Commodore, and Tommy. All of the rooms were labeled, but none of the labels made much sense. For example, the mission briefing room was labeled as "The Talkie Picture Stuff Room."

And some rooms had no conceivable purpose. One room was entirely filled with crates of movie posters. Another was completely empty except for a a box of tangled up Christmas lights. All of these things lead Tommy to believe that this was not exactly the best-run of all the government organizations.

"Good morning sir." a warm female voice said directly from behind Tommy.

Tommy was so startled by whoever it was who had sneaked up on him that he inadvertently let fly a string of profanities.

"JESUS COCKSUCKING NIGGER CUNTS!"

He clutched his chest and looked behind him, his chest pounding. It was an adolescent girl, who looked to be roughly his age. She had shoulder-length red hair and was wearing an old, old, OLD fashioned maid's uniform. She sported a peppy smile on her face, and a bounce in her step. She had large black glasses on her face, which Tommy felt made her very cute.

"Good morning mister Tommy." she met his shocking profanity with a warm grin, "Would you like some breakfast?"

"What... What the hell is wrong with you! You nearly gave me a heart attack! Who are you? What do you want?"

"I'm very sorry, sir. I didn't mean to startle you. My name is QT2. I am the organization's autonomous android servant. It's my job to run the daily operations of the base. I keep the generators running, cook the food, clean up, and do just about any other chores you can think of."

She put her hand to her mouth and giggled cutely. Tommy noticed that she was looking at his messy bed-head hair, and awkwardly smoothed it down. He was feeling a kind of odd attraction to this girl who was essentially claiming to be a non-living robotic slave.

"Oh uh..." he mumbled, "Sorry I cursed earlier. I was just... you know, surprised. I mean... I don't- it's not like I use that kind of language all the time, you know?"

QT2 giggled, "It's okay. Don't worry about it. Would you like some breakfast, sir?"

"You can... I mean, if you want, you can call me Tommy. Cause... you know... everyone else does. Ha... Uh, yeah breakfast sounds good."

_____________________________________

"So..." Tommy started, with a bit of waffle stabbed on his fork, "How do you like it here?"

QT2 was seated across from him in one of the base's many small rooms. This particular one looked like a breakfast nook with a stove, refrigerator and a breakfast bar to eat on. The waffles were all crispy with just a little maple syrup and no butter. And he had some hot chocolate with whipped cream to go with it. Oh yeah... life was good.

"Oh, I like it very much. I guess technically I was programed to like doing work, but still..."

"Right, right. Now, uh... I have a lot of questions, and no one really wants to answer them, so I was wondering..."

"Oh, I'd be happy to! Ask me anything."

"Do you know why this organization chose me? And were did all this advanced technology come from? I mean, who designed those big robots? And for that matter, who designed you? And how the hell can coolness be used as a power source? And why does everyone think that these pilots are cool? They don't seem cool to me. And what about The Commodore? Why does he look and act like some character in a Charles Dickens novel? And Remington is sort of an anacronism too. Why does he dress like he's fought in Vietnam, but carry a WWII era weapon? And either way, shouldn't he be much older than he really is? And don't even get me started on the aliens. I am just so confused by this whole experience!"

QT stared blankly at Tommy, "Wow, um... I guess mostly just know about cleaning and cooking and the Twilight Novel Series."

"Sorry," Tommy began. "It's just that it's been a pretty jarring transition, you know?"

"Oh, it's okay. I'd be upset too, if I were in your situation. So... how are the waffles?"

"Great, really great. Okay, here's a question you might know: what does eveyone do here all day? I mean, they can't fight aliens every day, right?"

"Oh yeah, usually go just on missions every other day."

"Uh huh..."

"But in their free time they usually just watch movies and work out and generally make a lot of noise."

"Sheesh..." Tommy put down his fork, "I'm stuck here with some loud, crazy psychos, and I'm probably gonna have to fight some aliens eventually. This is just... just..."

But Tommy couldn't finish his sentence. For the first time so far, he was at a loss for a snappy comment. Far from being the odd, silly situation that he imagined this to be, this was actually a pretty distressing situation. He had no idea how long he was going to be here. He didn't really know anyone here, and Tommy wasn't exactly the most sociable guy on earth. Yeah, this was pretty bad actually.

"Hey, come on," QT said, "Cheer up. How about I give you a nice warm bath? Would that make you happy?"

Tommy paused briefly.

"...eh?"

_____________________________________

"Oh, this is bad. Very bad..."

Tommy was standing in the middle of a the bathing room with a towel wrapped around him. It was styled like an ancient Roman bathhouse with several tubs of varying temperatures and a few modern shower spigots along the wall, and drains in the floor. The walls were covered in beautiful murals depicting giant robots fighting valiantly in battle.

"Don't worry Tommy. Just take off your towel, and I'll scrub you all over."

"Okay, look... things are moving a little... a little quick for me. I mean, I uh... I uh... I appreciate the gesture, but uh... it's not really... uh... appropriate... I mean, don't uh... don't get me wrong... I you're very... I mean... uh... I would love to, uh... oh geeze"

QT was busy slathering up her hands with lotion. She looked up with curiosity and cocked her head to the side.

"Sorry, what was that? I wasn't really listening."

"Oh boy... look, uh... do you do this for everyone here?"

"No, they all just awkwardly stammer and say they'd prefer to bath alone."

"Yeah, that's, uh... that's definitely what I'd like to do."

"Okay-dokey," QT said, turning around to leave, "call if you need anything."

_____________________________________

"Jesus..."

Tommy was reclining in the hot tub, his arms stretched out on the sides. To pass the time as he soaked in the tub, he talked to himself:

"Why would anyone design a robot to look like an adolescent girl anyways? Sure, thousands of people are starving every day, but the government's gonna spend it's money on giant robots and android maids and steam-powered zeppelins. Honestly..."

Suddenly, Tommy heard chattering outside. He froze. It was clearly a female voice coming closer and closer. Tommy began looking around for his towel, which was on a stool several feet away. In his haste, the only choice he had was to lower his head, so that only his eyes were above the water.

The door creaked open, and Lin and Sakura entered, wearing matching white terry-cloth robes.

Lin rolled her eyes and said, "You know, Sakura, I've had more rewarding conversations than this one."

Sakura just stared forward blankly as the two approached the showers. Tommy couldn't see from behind the hot tub's sides, but he still gulped hard as he heard the robes hit the ground with a light thud. He could not help wondering how the fuck this had happened.

Tommy could only quietly listen to the shower and Lin's voice as she sang Maxwell's Silver Hammer. As his mouth was underwater, Tommy could not say any of his normal smart-ass comments. However, if he could speak, I imagine he'd say something along these lines:

"DURR! It's a good thing I'm a flaming homosexual. Maybe later I'll dress up in my pretty pink tutu and prance over to the local beauty salon to get a manicure, and talk with my friends about how hot Matthew McConaughey is!"

Tommy gave an angry look, anticipating that these were the sorts of things an omnipotent narrator would say if he was looking at him cowering in that tub like a scared little puss. Well, go ahead. Prove me wrong Liberace. Do it. Take a look. What's stopping you, you goddamn peter-puffing sausage jockey?

Tommy finally finished battling with his nearly non-existent conscious and decided to take a quick peek. He assured himself that it wasn't sexual. It wasn't because a nude, wet, petite Chinese women was showering just a few feet from him. No, no, no! He was just going to do roll out of the tub, use some sneaky Metal Gear Solid shit to get his towel, and get the fuck out of there. Now, if he just happened to see some wet Chinese ass, yes, that you be a plus. But it was not the primary goal.

Tommy grabbed the edge of the tub and slowly began raising his head out of the tub. Just as his eyes crosses over the top, he was greeted by a pair of bright blue eyes staring right back at him.

Sakura was kneeling down and staring inquisitively at Tommy. She had her arms folded on the side of the tub, and was looking directly into Tommy's eyes; his frightened, paralyzed eyes.

"Sakura, what's taking you so long?"

Tommy managed to put one of his fingers up to his lips and made a very low, "shhh..." noise. Although Sakura was also naked, Tommy made a point of not being turned on by nine-year-olds. At this point she was just an obstacle blocking his path the the towel, and his view of Lin. She showed no intention of revealing Tommy's location, but then again, it was pretty hard to figure out what the fuck she was thinking.

"Oh, that's a good idea Sakura."

The faucet squeaked and the water from the shower dribbled to a stop.

"We should get in the hot tub!"

Tommy's eye's bulged in fear as he heard footsteps coming closer. If he had been thinking straight be might have done something like pretend to have fallen asleep in the tub. But he was not thinking straight. And the only thing he could do was take a deep breath and stick his head underwater.

"Out of my way Sakura!"

Lin began running towards the tub (in clear violation of the posted rules for the baths). She leaped over the side, and landed with a splash and a thud. This was followed by more splashing, some gasping for air, and a lot of screaming.

__________________________________________________

Tommy was in the sick bay, sitting on one of those table/desk type things that they have in doctor's offices. You know, the ones that usually have some translucent paper put on top of them for no apparent reason.

Tommy had come out of the scuffle mostly unscathed, albeit with quiet a few bruises and a wounded ego. QT was now examining him for any further injuries from the savage beating he had received, and Remington was standing in the corner with his arms crossed, shaking his head disapprovingly.

"You are one stupid Caucasian, you know that? What the hell were you thinking?"

"Now, just... just hold on a second Remington. This was all just a big misunderstanding."

"So you were just accidentally in that hot tub, while her ass was just accidentally on your face?"

"Well, yeah. That's actually a very good summary of what happened."

"Come on! You expect me to believe that "Three's Company" bullshit?"

"Whatever, man. Just communicate to her that I'm sorry and it was all a big misunderstanding."

"No time for that. Your training starts today."

"I'm sorry, my what starts when?"

"Training. We're gonna teach you how to be a pilot. Put on some sweat pants, this can get intense."

"And this is gonna be another long day..."

__________________________________________________

"Sun Tzu wrote, 'all warfare is based on coolness."

"No he didn't."

"Well, maybe it wasn't that way in ancient China, but around here it is."

Tommy and Remington were in the base's barbershop. Yes, apparently they have a barbershop too. The room looked like it had come right from the 1950s, complete with a revolving barber pole and a pastel color scheme. Tommy was seated in the barbershop chair, and Remington paced in front of him, carrying a small device that looked very similar to a Geiger counter.

"All right, Tommy. You need a serious make-over."

"Yeah, 'cause make-overs are so cool."

"This is serious business, Tom. I'm only picking up a cool level of three and a half from you. That is dangerously low."

"Really? Dangerously? So being uncool could physically harm me?"

"Ya damn right. So we need to pick a new persona for you. New clothes, new hair, new voice. A whole new outlook on life."

"What the hell is so uncool about me? I mean, from my perspective everyone here seems pretty uncool."

"Then it's settled let's find an outfit that suits you! Now, you see," Remington began as he rummaged through the clothing, "you're a white boy..."

"Really?" Tommy said in mock surprise, "Well that would certainly explain a lot..."

"So that means that you're slightly more limited when it comes to cool outfits you can wear..."

"Gee, it's all so clear now! That explains why I'm a lazy, ignorant republican fuck who likes Barry Manilow..."

"For example, you obviously can't dress up like a kung-fu master or John Shaft."

"...and it explains why I always eat mayonnaise and tuna casserole..."

"...but there's still a lot of good options available for you."

"...and why I've got a tiny prick and can't dance worth a damn..."

"Tommy, are you listening to me?"

"Oh, I'm sorry, I was just so shocked by the stunning revelation that I am, in fact, white."

There was a brief, awkward pause as the two looked at each other.

"I can do without the sass mister."

"Oh. I'm, uh... sorry mister Remington... sir."

“All right... how about this one?” Remington said as he held up a leather motorcycle jacket.

“Why? I don't ride motorcycles.”

“So what? It looks cool.”

“Next.”

“Okay...” Remington held up a helmet with two horns sticking out of it, “what about a viking outfit?”

“This is crazy! I'm not a biker, I'm not a viking, and I'm definitely not not a pirate! None of this feels natural. Why can't I just dress and act like an obnoxious sarcastic middle schooler?”

“Cause that shit ain't cool.”

“But it's truth! I don't wanna pretend to be someone else.”

“Is that what you're worried about? Oh, Tommy... looks like I need to have a little heart-to-heart chat with you...”

Remington sat down on the barber chair next to Tommy. He rested his machine gun on the ground and leaned forward in his seat.

“You've probably had a bunch of adults give you inspirational speeches, right? And they probably tell you that if you 'just be yourself' then people will like and accept you. Well I'm here to tell you that that's some straight-up bullshit. No nigga EVER became cool by being themselves. You become cool by imitating other people, and following the crowd.”

“What?” Tommy raised an eyebrow in confusion, “so you're not a war veteran?”

“Fuck no! I was a funeral director up until the government recruited me. But America needs cool people, and I was willing to sacrifice my identity for the good of the country.”

Tommy leaned back in his seat with a stunned look on his face. Remington reached into his pocket and pulled out one of his cigars, which he promptly lit.

“If cool people smoke, then you need to smoke. If cool people dress a certain way, then you need to dress that way. It doesn't matter how much you you have to change, or how uncomfortable it makes you inside. Cause let me tell you this right now: if you ain't cool, you ain't worth SHIT! No one will give you the time of day. Dammit, vanilla bean! I figured someone from the public school system would already know this shit!”

Tommy was normally calm and collected, but this time he stood up in a rage.

“Fuck this shit! You talk so much shit about these aliens, but look at yourself! Everyone here is just as boring and conformist as they are! Fuck... no! No, I'm not gonna dress like an idiot and act like a totally different person just because society says it's cool! Why would I listen to what society says? They're the biggest bunch of cunts on earth!”

Tommy stood up and walked to the door, much to the surprise of Remington, who had now taken the position as the confused gawker in the conversation. Just before he left, Tommy

“You guys can kidnap me and prevent me from leaving, and maybe I'll even have a good time, this seems like a pretty nice place, after all. But listen very, VERY closely: you are not going to change who I am. I don't care if I'm not cool by your standards. I don't care if society considers me a fucking leper. Despite that I still think I'm the coolest motherfucker here.”

Tommy put his hands in his pockets and strolled out. When Remington was alone, he heard a soft clicking noise. It appeared to be coming from the device he had previously used to measure Tommy's coolness. As Remington glanced down at it he saw that he had accidentally left it on and it was pointed towards the door where Tommy had just left. Underneath the words COOL-O-METER, it showed a reading of over one thousand cool points. Remington was confused but assumed it must be malfunctioning. That was the only logical explanation... right?

__________________________________________________

"Yeah, so then I turned my back to him, right? And I deliver this kickass speech about how I'm never gonna change who I am, or some shit like that."

"Damn!" Quatro said, leaning back in his recliner and sipping from his glass of hot cider.

"Yeah, I can't remember exactly what I said, but I know it was pretty cool. It's weird, it's like I was channeling Humphrey Bogart of something."

"Man, you are one bad motherfucker!"

"I know! That's what I said!"

Tommy and Quatro were watching Saving Private Ryan in the base's small home theater. The movie was still on the opening scene at Omaha beach, which did not appear to be ending any time soon.

"Man..." Quatro said, upon seeing a soldier get his arm blown off, "war is totally hell..."

He played a few low chords on his guitar to emphasize this point.

"Yeah, but... it's still cool."

"Well, yeah. It's definitely a cool kind of hell."

"Let me get serious here for a second. After I finished training-"

"Is training really the right word? You were only there for, like ten minutes."

"Okay, after I finished NOT training, I started wondering about something. Since Remington's not a real soldier, and since I assume you're not a real rock star, do any of you even enjoy these fake identities?"

Quatro gave him a shocked look, "Well, I understand where you're coming from, but I gotta tell you, this has been the greatest thing to ever happen to me! I mean, when I first came here, my life sucked donkey ass! All my dreams of being a musician were dead, right? And when I came here, it felt like I could finally be who I always wanted to be. And I'm pretty sure that's how everyone here feels. Know what mean?"

Tommy thought for a moment.

"Well... that does make some sense. But you haven't change my mind about this!" he added quickly.

Suddenly a loud alarm started sounding and some red lights started flashing on and off.

"Oh god!" Tommy rolled is eyes, "does that mean there's another mission?"

"Yessir." Quatro switched the projector off, and the lights on.

"Is it okay if I sit this one out? I can't really contribute anyways."

"I think that's okay. You can keep Sakura company," Quarto started exiting to room, "she's got a tummy ache."

__________________________________________________

"What the hell is this?"The Commodore asked, standing in front of the orientation room, "Where is everyone?"

Remington rose his hand.

"Well Chief, Sakura's feeling a little sick and I hear that Tommy didn't want to come."

"What?" The Commodore cocked his head to one side,"I don't remember saying Tommy had a choice!"

"Uh..." Quatro grimaced, "sorry, that was... uh, that was my bad."

"Whatever, it's too late now, anyways. Okay," The Commodore turned on the slide projector, "This is the base. It's in Russia. We need to destroy it. Et cetera, et cetera, et cetera. You know the drill."

"What part of Russia?" Lin asked.

The Commodore shrugged, "I don't know. The big, cold part."

"Siberia?"

"Yeah, that's it. It's a pretty small base. I doubt that there's more than fifty GreyBusters. We should be back in time for lunch."

__________________________________________________

Tommy and QT were walking down one of the hallways. She carried a silver platter with ginger ale and crackers on it. If you ask me, it's odd that with all the medical advancements that we have nowadays, clear liquids and crackers are still the best treatment we have for tummy-aches. And while we're on the subject, why are kids the only ones who get tummy-aches. Honestly, have you ever hear some adult say that they've got a tummy-ache? Well, I haven't. Maybe it's because kids are the only ones who have "tummies." Kids and animals. Some animals have tummies.

Oh... but I digress:

"So I was thinking," Tommy said, "You seem to be the most sane person around here, and therefore you are the most reliable source of information."

"Fair enough."

"Well, anywho... what I'm trying to ask you is: what's the deal with Sakura?"

"'The deal?'"

"Yeah, what's her deal? You know: Why doesn't she ever talk? And why does SCEDA think it's okay to put a little kid's life in danger?"

"Wait, Sakura never talks?"

"Hmmm... I'm gonna have to take back what I said about you being the most reliable sourse of information."

"Well, I do know that's she's not actually as young as she looks."

"Uh... pardon?"

"I don't know exactly how it works, but I hear that coolness can make you appear younger than you actually are. In fact, I'd say everyone here is older than you'd think. Sakura's actually slightly older than you."

Tommy managed to contain a mischievous grin as his mind wandered to earlier in the day when he'd seen Sakura naked. If she was actually about his age, then it wasn't technically creepy. And she certainly was cute...

No! Stop that right now, you nasty little monkey! If there's no hair, then you must beware! Goodness... What a terrible person to have as the main protagonist.

"Sakura?" QT leaned into Sakura's room, "are you feeling any better?"

Sakura was wrapped up in fuzzy blankets like some kind of adorable little cocoon. Her tiny button nose and big, round (admittedly blank) eyes poked out of the only hole in the blanket. She was curled up in her bed, which was directly opposite Lin's bed. Her side of the room coud not be more different than Lin's side. Lin's side of the room was red and gold, with dragon sculptures and Ming vases and other oriental shit like that. Sakura's side of the room was light blue with various stuffed animals. She had an admirable collection of picture books and disney movies in her minature bookshelf and a collection of crayon drawings tacked to the walls.

Sakura made a soft moan as she rolled over and pulled the covers tight. It was very cute.

"Oh, I guess not." QT sat on the bed and stroked Sakura's head through the covers, "Aww, my poor little cherry blossom..."

Tommy watched this scene with perverted glee as he creamed his pants with joy. Okay, technically that didn't happen, but it wouldn't fucking surprise you, would it?

"Sorry, sweetness," QT said with a slight frown, "I've gotta do some chores, but Tommy will keep you company, right?"

"Er..."

"Okay..." Tommy was left alone with Sakura, who was staring at him in what may have been anticipation, "So, guess you don't feel too good, right?"

Sakura stared blankly.

"Maybe... maybe you wanna watch a movie?"

Sakura slowly nodded her head.

"Oh! Good. Let's see, uh..." Tommy turned and perused the bookshelf, "How about Milo and Otis?"

Sakura stared blankly.

"Okay... what about The Little Mermaid?"

Sakura stared blankly.

"Well, what about American History X? Wait... this one seems a little out of place. Okay, okay, here's one! Spirited Away! Is that okay?"

Sakura slowly nodded her head.

AHHH!!! She was so cute! Tommy just wanted to snuggle her brains out, but he contained himself and opened the DVD case.

__________________________________________________

Tommy reclined on Sakura's bed, with her sitting next to him. The lights in the room were turned off but the light from the TV danced over the two over them. Danced? What kind of faggy description is that?

Well, anyways, as the movie went on, Sakura slowly began to shift her weight onto Tommy's shoulder. A little over halfway through, she had snuggled up to Tommy, and her breathing became heavy and slow. Tommy started to become curious as to her new found affection, and craned his neck to get a better look at her face. She appeared to be sleeping, and as he moved, she squired a bit to get more comfortable.

Tommy allowed himself a rare smile as he put his arm around her. He didn't know why, but he felt compelled to talk to her as she slept.

"You know, Sakura..." Tommy said in a soft voice, so as not to wake her, "I bet everyone is always trying to get you to talk Well, just forget about them. Once you start talking, it's hard to shut up... believe me. Yeah, you don't need to worry. You're fine just the way you are."

Tommy gently laid Sakura down in her bed and turned off the DVD player. He took one last glance at her cute little frame snuggled under the covers as he slowly closed her door. He put his hands in his pockets and started casually strolling down the hall.

In the darkness, illuminated solely by her glowing nightlight, Sakura did something unusual. The edges of her lips curved up and she spoke softly in her angelic voice:

"Tommy..."

__________________________________________________

Tommy didn't know what he should do next. He figured he might as well pass the time by tracking down QT And playing cards or a board game with her. Maybe Gin Rummy. He loved that game, but he never got an opportunity to play it. Damn. He wished he knew cribbage. Everyone says that's a fun game.

Suddenly, there was a loud crash in the vicinity of the hangar. Tommy jerked his head around and froze in place. There was shouting and several loud clanging noises. Slowly, he began to walk towards the noise, and took a stern look at the hangar door. The door burst open and Lin rushed out in a commotion.

"Hurry the fuck up! What is wrong with you?!" Lin shouted as she stood in the doorway.

A stretcher came rolling past Tommy at lightning speed. QT was pushing it as fast as she could. On top of the stretcher was the bloody and ragged body of Remington.

"Jesus..." Tommy mumbled as he turned to Lin, "Where is everyone? What the fuck happened?"

She started walking behind the stretcher at a fast clip. She pulled out her gold-plated cigarette case and placed one of her slim black cigarettes in her mouth. She didn't even turn her head as she answered.

"Something bad..."

 

TO BE CONTINUED...
__________________________________________________

Reviews

There are no reviews of this item.