.
It is still hot, 91 outside, 80 in here, even as it hits 20:00. Still, I slept well. I must be slowly getting used to things, because I didn't feel the heat stealing my cool as I slept, and I slept through the absolute worst of it. A wonderful sleep, resting, restoring, quiet, and large enough to tend even the extra weariness from the constant heat. Plus, two bonuses... a couple of neat dreams.
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In the first dream, I had become a full on Q, but for my own purposes. It wasn't all that I was, merely something I did to manage the needs of life. I gained access to all of the patents since that office opened, and pretty much memorized the devices, how they worked, and what they did, while also speculating, given what else exists today and what all has been learned since, what else any particular device, mechanism, or system could do. Then, as difficulties presented, if time was available or the difficulty might be an ongoing thing, I became creative.
I created many little and somewhat larger devices, and further, tinkered with everything from my home to vehicle to appliances, to make those things work better, or at least more to my liking. My creativity stopped short of my cats, however, or mother. Such fussy things. Well, at least altering them. I did make their lives easier, just not bionic.
If a patent was "dead", I didn't mind, if someone liked my work, creating a similar piece for them. No labor charges, merely parts and allowance for the time necessary. If the patent was still active, I shied away from that. Even as gifts. But I would use active patents for my own devices. I was quite good at these things. My devices truly made things easier. However, truth be told, it was probably easier, for the most part, to just do these things another way. A week of planning, drawing, thinking, at least partially dedicated to the craft. Then another week to month purchasing parts and microfacturing those into the plans. Then a day to week testing and tweaking. All of that to create a device that allowed a little extra, but powerful, reach. Something a ladder, usually, could have done and better... usually. Then again, in truth, it was not about the service rendered. It was about the creative processes and the joys... which include frustrations... of making a thought live then function in the real world.
Wonderful dream.
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The next dream has me a bit worried. You'll understand, probably, as I relate the notions.
This one was pretty good. Location, maps, numbers, weapon placement, the works. A rout had been worked up, the system was down, there was time to fiddle. There was even going to be active satellite feeds at my disposal. The data was fresh and ongoing. Someone had a hardon for this one. Someone big. I kept, however, expecting the team to show. Late, yeah, one, two. But everybody? Yeah, it happens, but. Something about this call had caught my attention. I felt it was important if I can't remember why. That usually brings em' in. We all have that sense of things.
I kept listening, taking fairly careful notes about a number of things. Man, this was beautiful. This was like being hungry and walking into a hole-in-the-wall out of desperation, only to find it is a secretive top-of-the-line steak house which serves the best but as a, mostly, gift to the poor. World class steak and sides at fastfood prices. This thing had it all. Access, intel, allowances for my druthers, C&C green lights, air cover for the return, international coop. Something had to be wrong. Triple whipped cream with double cherries on each pile. Had to be covering something really nasty. The big boys don't get hardons for milk runs. And where were the others! Why was I getting the feeling I had been blind folded, had my hands tied behind my back, and been lead on with the promise of a hand job to just be figuring out I was about to become the center of the circlejerk? Because I was, that's why. I wonder how they pick? Short straw? Big mouth (though we all have em', who spouted to the last bigshot might take the temp lead)? Drawing a number? Yeah, we all got it from time to time. No matter why, it was my time. Intel man didn't even give it away. But as he saw it dawn, he started chuckling, the fucker. Almost couldn't contain it. The more I hated at him, the funnier it got to him.
Actually, it wasn't all that bad. Risky, they all were. A bit of a hump, as usual but nothing special. Yeah, alone, and that was tough with getting in. No backup or cover. But fewer shadows to be noticed. Really, not bad. Maybe it wasn't just a complete sweetened for the eye whipped cream and cherry covered bung hole? I was starting to think command loved me. *blush* But it was a loo-loo of a story behind the mission.
Apparently, a certain group of men of political, religious, and other alliances, who pretty much are on the darker side of things, kidnapped a woman. Yeah, okay. But it wasn't for the usual. Bad things or blackmail or any of the normal jazz. No. Through written and other prophecy, they believed this woman was going to be the grandmother to one of the next Christian bigwigs. The next John the Baptist, or maybe Jesus Himself. Crazy, baby. Now, they hadn't harmed her... yet. It seems they weren't sure about some things. If they just outright murdered her, the probability is that another would be chosen and they would lose their mark. If they got touchy-feely with her, that could create the problem so they kept her quite safely isolated. They were scouring old texts, consulting with the darkness through various means, trying to figure out just what to do with this little bundle of God's own truth and joy. Now, I almost laughed when I heard this. I didn't even get the usual glare that tells me to stuff it, just enough of a look to tell me to listen on as I could. And yet there was some mirth in the way he looked at me sideways, and with the set of his chin. He was almost laughing too, but with me or at me? My guess is my lead... had his own issues with the tale. Perhaps with and at me. Yeah.
Anyway. They had her on an atoll, surrounded by shoal for miles. While the place wasn't all that heavily defended, there wasn't enough space for a real army, there were enough that a direct sort of assault could easily be a problem. Whether she was truly going to be the grandmother to someone of cosmic import, or not, we wanted her, and alive, and to figure it out. Good, bad, governments, churches, academics, economic powers, and the rest, don't like wildcards, jokers, in their deck. This was potentially, no pun intended, the mother of all wildcards. You don't always have to believe. Sometimes, though, you can't take the risk of not believing, at least alone.
So, I was to be let off here, then needed to snorkel in there, marking and plotting, at night. I would be taking in two jets and tanks, but not for use on the way in, for various reasons. Plus some gear for Mother Good Goose, as she was officially being referred. Time was short, though at least it was "winter" on the isle, so I had more dark than light. I would have satellite feed, the best we have. And, once I got her out, to and into the water, and we were on our way, we would have ships and planes aplenty to keep our trail cold. Still, much better to get and go with nary a sound. I like my potatoes away from fires. Even with the jets, such fires can catch and cook potatoes quickly. I like my potatoes, I do!
When we returned, I slipped away. But that wasn't the end either. It seemed they had a wild one on their hands. She made up her mind, and that was that. So... I was called back. Babysitter, handler, they called it. I let them know that, even if she was easy on the eyes, I didn't know if I even could love this woman, I let her know that. No one listens! Some of the bastards just laughed and suggested better me than them. I tried to cut it, let her know just what a dog I was and that I wasn't sure I could change, or that I wanted to change, and kept it... civil. I tried and tested her, and did break her down but she wouldn't stay gone. The girl had some bones, I will say that. And heart. But I was failing. I didn't see a way out. Thing is, I had a huge problem.
Then, as I was feeling pinned to a terrible destiny with only horrible choices, a voice. Was I dreaming? I couldn't shake it, nor could I be sure. Time and space seem to have drifted into a distant fog. "I know your suffering." Crazy. I've just snapped, or am dreaming. As I heard in a show... don't talk to it, don't encourage it! As if ignoring would make an unbelievable thing not be. "Yes, you are nephilim. And, yes, she is in line to My will of flesh." Still, I would not talk. I really shouldn't drink like that. Or... play so hard. Where had I been before I was here? Where am I? "I'm not talking to you", I said. "Oh, but you are. Not that there is a need. Just listen if you must. You are nephilim, but you have come to My call. You are now Mine. As such, your bloodline has been cleaned, and has become special itself. You will complete her destiny. Be at peace." I sensed things going back to normal. "But wait", I almost screamed! "How do I know this isn't just a dream, or me trying to have what I want against what I otherwise know as wisdom", I choked out! "You can't leave me to just hope, or just on faith, on such a huge deal! I won't!" Though I saw no face, I felt the expression, just as the lead who had briefed me. Definitely with, and at, me. As reality faded to what I had always known, and as I held my breath, the same booming voice came back, as if from a great distance, and as if turned partially back toward me from otherwise heading away... "So be it." But... what did He mean? That I could run away? Or that it didn't matter what I thought? Or that He would let me know? Gah!
I woke in the dark, completely unsure of where I was, what time it was, or... Reboot. I hate those. I was in a bunk, but not a ship bunk or even a bunkbed. It was .mil. Ugly plain metal, thin mattress, springs across under the mattress, dull "silver" painted metal gray. The clock glowed, so drew me to it's light, 3:20. Must be night. I really need to research an alarm clock, one which I can use in 24 hour, and one I can shut the damned light off. Even if the light was a great comfort on this one night. Anyway... Did I drink last night, I wondered. I don't use junk, so that's out. Was I sick? Not a usual thing, but every five years or so I go into some crazy funk for a few days to a week. No... nothing. The dream disappeared before I could put it back together. Just... something... it was a big one though. I tried to get back to sleep but could only rest. Still wasn't sure if I was at a base, on a ship or sub. Though if the latter, with special or odd quarters. I'm used to weird things though, so... whatever. I'd figure it out.
After the shower, and a more cautious return to my room, even if mostly dressed... unnerved a bit, you know... I finished gearing and fussing, made my bed, and headed out. I still wasn't clear-headed. Chow hall was next. I knew where that was. I would figure the rest out as time passed. Ah, had to make sure I had my id. Then on to the mess hall. Not many were in line, my rank helped a bit, on through and into the actual line with tray, flatware, and all. This, and that, and just whatever looked particularly good. Usually pretty good chow. Sometimes new stuff sounded good, though, sometimes the same old stuff seemed better. Tray filled, a couple of cartons of milk, and on to a place to sit. Found easily enough. Just as I was sitting she arrived behind me. I hate that when she sneaks up on me. She's not good at it, so picks her times well.
Why, she asked, are you sitting here? I really had grown to love her, even to the point of thinking about marrying her, but she could ask the stupidest questions. Because it was open, I am hungry, and... gravity? She laughed, in the way women who want to clobber you laugh. Oh, you silly boy. come with me. I was hungry, didn't really want to play. But... tits. I didn't even say that. Anyway, I grabbed my tray and followed. She lead into the chief's area. Okay, but, no, this... On she went, into the officers area. Uhrm, no. I stopped, then called her over. I'll get in trouble going in here, even with you, I told her. No you won't, silly. But she didn't explain and kept walking. Tits or no, I wasn't going into God's country. Beside trouble, there is just... something off about the place. Finally she came back and asked if I really didn't remember. Remember what? Ah, we have been assigned our own dining area, so as not to be as visible. For security, and because of our special... situation. When, I asked. Last Friday. Hmm, you sure? Honest Injun! She seemed to be telling it straight, so I went with it. Didn't like it, went with it. Tits. Shut it.
She already had her tray filled and there. We sat, and started in. I began talking to her about some of my issues, with my blood line and her... prophesied possibility. She listened. I think she sort of understood why I had been so reluctant. I am not sure, however, that she believed in either of our stories, or really cared. Gah! Women can be so not caring about the most damned important of things! Not even a little, I could see it. But what if... Don't care. Could be true... Don't care. I'm almost certain of... Don't care. She just didn't care. Then she told me what she did believe in, gave me a winsome glance, then... she headed off to get a cup of coffee, which she had forgotten. As she was heading away, when she was out of earshot, I muttered that I would marry her just for that. At thirty paces, she stopped, turned just enough for me to see her expression, with a minor twist of a laugh in her ways both at and with me. Then she said, "So be it". Gah!
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Yeah, really. That was my second dream. Well, most of it. Can't write every little detail.
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