Chapter the Fourteenth, or “In Which Things Get Wild”
I awake to that familiar white room, not even phased with the change of scenery. “Discord?” I call out (thankfully in my normal voice). “Where are you this time?”
A small balloon drifts in from nowhere and floats down to the floor. With an unusually loud *QUACK*, Discord appears in a theatrical pose, accompanied with a rain of small plastic monkeys. “Right here, Sebby!” He chuckles.
I look at him, unimpressed. “Well, that was disappointing,” I smirk.
He deflates slightly; as if that wasn’t the effect he was going for. “What do you mean?” He asks a little nervously.
“Well, compared to your other entrances, this one wasn’t very impressive,” I sigh. “I mean, it wasn’t BORING, but now it feels a little… tame, you know?”
He apparently thinks on this quite seriously before waving the issue off. “Ah well, what do you know about showmanship?” He says dismissively. “I’ve had millennia to develop my humor! I was THERE when humor was invented!”
“Which would explain why your jokes are as stale as sex with a thirty year-old piece of Wonderbread,” I retort.
Discord opens his mouth to say something, but stops suddenly before giving me a defeated smile. “You are young and quick of tongue,” he conceded, growing a long white fu-manchu and stroking it sagely. “You have much potential…”
“Thank you, Mr. Miyagi,” I scoff. “Anyways, I have a few questions for you!”
The long flowing beard shrinks back to its normal size on the face of the chaos god. A table pops up between us, and manacles suddenly clamp themselves onto his wrists. “I ain’t tellin’ you squat, copper!” He declares, the skin around his eye turning dark. “You can’t handle the truth!”
I sigh and shake my head. “You try too hard, man,” I chuckle sadly.
He gives me a pout and goes back to his original form. “Alright, what do you want, wiseass?” he growls.
“First off, what happened with the girls?” I ask. “I mean, they acted like they’d never seen me before!”
He groans and clenches the bridge of his nose. “How else was it supposed to work?” He asks sarcastically. “The whole idea is that you’d have to be able to function without your friendship. I can’t exactly say that you managed to succeed,” he added smugly, “but you managed to reach the goal of the trail anyways.”
“Wait, there’ve been GOALS this whole time?! Since when?!”
Discord gives an even deeper sigh of annoyance. “Well, first you had to defeat the aliens, then the werewolf-thing, then the zombies, and finally the mob boss. These aren’t exactly abstract concepts, you know!”
“Ok, the other guys I get, but I didn’t take out Joe at all!” I protest. “Twilight was the one who shot him!”
“But you CAUSED his death. He wouldn’t have died had Twilight not been so protective of you, which was caused by your general treatment of her overall. Sure, chance took over sometimes, but hey, this IS your mind, after all.”
The last bit of his explanation strikes me odd. “What do you mean, ‘It’s MY mind’?” I ask slowly. “You’ve been in control this whole time, haven’t you?”
Discord gives me a condescending smile. “Now what would being the god of CHAOS have to do with controlling anything?” He snickered.
Before I could react to this, I suddenly hear a loud sucking sound from above. I’m sucked up into a hole in the ceiling just big enough to fit me, causing me to be stuck between two red and white walls. I bang against them, more out of annoyance than fear, only to find out that they were too bendy to shatter. My eyes widen when the small room seems to tilt on its side, pointing my head towards the great nothingness of white. Oh dear God, this can’t be what I think it is…
My worst fears are confirmed when I fear Discord’s voice ring out from outside: “HOW’S IT LIKE TO BE THE WORLD’S FIRST HUMAN SPITBALL?!” I barely have enough time to scream before I’m blown out of the giant straw and straight into the whiteness…
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I wake up slowly to the sound of tinny violin strings, almost as if they were being played through a long metal tube. I open my eyes to find myself in a fairly elegant room, filled with fine wooden furniture and ornate rugs. Now THIS is more like it, I grin, stretching comfortably in bed. I turn to find the source of the music: A strange mixture of a clock and an old-fashioned record player. I push a small button on the record player, causing the turntable to stop with a jarring scratch.
Upon getting up from my bed, a loud whoosh goes straight past my ear. I look behind me to find that my bed had automatically folded into the wall, leaving an empty space where it once stood. I peer behind the screen covering the entrance to the wall to find thousands of tiny gears, all clicking in a perfect metal rhythm. Clue number one: Steam-punky room, I think excitedly to myself. Deciding to inspect the rest of my living quarters, I find a panel on the wall with several brass buttons, all labeled in fancy script. Curious, I push the first one that comes to my attention, which was labeled “Dresser”.
With several whirls and clicks, a large mirror and a set of brass shelves pop out of the wall, much to my excitement. I peer into the mirror to see that I had apparently grown the most majestic handlebar mustache I’d ever seen. “Clue number two: Epic facial hair,” I grin into the mirror. Looking back at the panel, I press the “Wardrobe” button, causing a large wooden closet to whirr out of the wall. I open to find a large assortment of top hats, suits, and even a rack of wooden canes. Well, I think the evidence speaks for itself: This is gonna be frickin’ AWESOME! With a cackle of delight, I throw off my silk nightclothes and begin to try on an assortment of the clothes.
After finally deciding on a green silk cravat to accompany my suit and top hat, I grab the nearest cane and step promptly out into the sunny streets, which were bustling with people straight out of the Wild West. Leather-clad cowboys skulked in the shadows of the saloons and gambling houses, while prim and proper ladies rode in elegant coaches. I’m about to begin my exploration of the town when a short and portly man with a walrus mustache waddles up to me, looking absolutely flustered. “Professor Espinosa!” He wheezed, mopping his large doughy face with a white handkerchief. “Where have you been?! I’ve been trying to reach you all day!”
“Um… My telegraph’s broken?” I say sheepishly, grasping blindly for an excuse.
It apparently didn’t work, because walrus-guy just gets even baffled. “Now is not the time for jokes, professor!” He says indignantly, wiping more sweat off with his now soaking handkerchief. “I’ve sent you several written messages through the automatic tubing system!”
“Um, that’s broken too. Pretty much everything’s broken,” I lie.
The old man peers at me through misty grey eyes. “Are you alright, professor?” he asked, obviously concerned. “You seem rather off-color today!”
“It’s just been a rough morning,” I say quickly. “Now, what did you need to talk to me about?”
“Well, I came to accompany you to the capital, of course!” The man says, obviously flabbergasted by my apparent memory loss. “You’ve been summoned by the President of the United States himself! Quite frankly, my friend, your lack of recollection is quite alarming! Are you sure you are well enough to take this trip?”
“Yeah, I’m fine,” I say, waving off his concern. “When do we start heading over?”
“That’s what I’m trying to tell you, Professor!” The man groans in anguish. “We’re going to be late for our airship flight! Come, I’ll hail a carriage and we’ll might be able to reach the liftoff site in time!”
Before I can react, the man roughly grabs my wrist, and drags me to the street corner. “Taxi!” he bellows, and a small horse-drawn cab pulls over. We rush inside the wood-varnished carriage and sit down. “Terminus Aeroport,” my companion orders to the cabbie, and we’re off in a flash.
When we arrive at our destination, I step outside the carriage to find a marvelous sight: Hundreds of shiny brass blimps lifted off and landed onto the airstrip at all times, nearly blocking out the sky with their frames. I didn’t have enough time to admire the beautiful view, however, as my increasingly annoyed companion was now practically carrying me to the airport (or aeroport, or whatever). “Come now, professor, there’s no time to dawdle!” He huffs, somehow still keeping a fairly good pace. “We’ll be lucky if we make it to the cargo hold at this rate!”
This snaps me out of my stupor as I begin to jog alongside him. “What exactly did the President want?” I ask curiously.
“No idea! He simply said the matter was urgent!” My companion explains as he waddles up to a large wooden desk, where a pretty young red-headed woman stood watch. “Two first-class tickets for Espinosa and Bluffton, headed to Washington DC, if you please!” He says smartly as he forks over a couple of bills.
The lady types something into a shiny brass typewriter before ripping off two ticket stubs. “The next flight’s in ten minutes,” she advises us. “If you hurry, you might just make it!”
Bluffton takes this deeply to heart as he rips me from where I was standing, managing once again to carry me as a quarterback might carry a football. “We’re nearly there, nearly there!” He chants to himself while I helplessly dangle from under his arms.
Finally, after several mishaps (one where I had been accidently stuffed under a woman’s dress), we finally make it to our airship terminal. “Are we on time?” Bluffton asks the attendant worriedly, dumping me unceremoniously onto the ground.
The attendant, a tall young man in his early twenties, pulls a golden pocket watch out of his coat pocket. “Just barely,” he grins. “Do you have your tickets?”
Bluffton sighs in relief as he fishes the two tickets out of his breast pocket. “Thank heavens; I was sure we’d miss the flight!”
“No, really?” I ask sarcastically as I pick myself up from the ground. “You hid it so well!”
Bluffton gave a huff as he mopped his face with his handkerchief. “Well, you WERE taking a long time, Professor,” he chided.
The attendant, obviously amused by our discourse, pulls out a little brass hole puncher and marks our tickets. “The first class cabin is all the way at the front,” he explains as he hands them back to us. “Your seats will be on the fifth row on the right. Enjoy your flight!”
We nod and make our way into the cabin of the airship. The first part, obviously the economy class, was packed to the brim with people, and was barely decorated. The second section was a little bit nicer, with more windows and the seats less packed together. However, it’s when we get to the first class seats that I gasp in amazement: The seats were made of fine leather, and there are plush carpets on the floor. Each passenger (there’s about seven or so) had his own little section of the chamber to himself, equipped with a small but comfortable bed, a polished wooden nightstand, and a large window to view the flight. Why the hell couldn’t it be like this in the real world?! I think to myself upon seeing the luxury of the airship.
Bluffton, however, seems unimpressed with the ship’s accommodations. “It seems that the dollar buys us less and less every day,” he huffs as he inspects the quality of the rugs. “Why, I think that this isn’t even made in Persia!” With a long-suffering sigh, he plops down onto his bed. “This morning’s escapades have left me exhausted,” he yawned. “Do tell me when the lunch cart comes around, will you?”
I nod. “Anything else?” I ask.
Bluffton thinks a bit, stroking the sides of his walrus moustache. “See if they have the silk pajamas they have with every flight. I wouldn’t want to wrinkle my suit before our big meeting this afternoon!”
I nod and step out of the small room, in search for a stewardess. As I walk down the halls of the cabin, I come across a good-looking woman reading in her room, obviously really into her book. She’s good-looking, around her early twenties, and wearing a wide-brimmed hat and a simple lavender dress. Something about her was familiar to me, but I just can’t figure out what. I resolve to get her attention by knocking on the door. “Uh, hi, I was wondering if you knew where a stewardess might be.”
“One just passed through,” she replied, not even looking up. “If you turn on the hallway, you might be able to catch up with her.
Disappointed by her response, I edge a little farther into the room. “Have I seen you before?” I ask.
She looks up at me, revealing purple eyes. “No, I don’t think so,” she says, scrutinizing me. ‘I think you’re mistaken,”
I peer at her face closely, trying to remember who she was. “Are you sure? Because it’s driving me crazy right now, and I’ve just got to know who you are!”
The girl chuckles and extends her gloved hand. “My name’s Tina Sparks, if you must know,” she smiles. “And you?”
Twilight! I should have known! “Professor Sebastian Espinosa,” I grin smoothly as I brush my lips to her hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
Twilight (or Tina) giggles slightly before gently pulling her hand away from me. “What are you a professor of?” She asks curiously.
I pause a little before coming up with my best guess. “I suppose you could call me a professor of law,” I explain. “What do you do?”
“Well, I’d like to think of myself as a tinkerer,” she smiles. “I was actually just reading on the subject.”
I glance down at her book, only to find that it was about the thickness of a cinder block. “Good lord, I’m intimidated by that thing, and I’m a lawyer!”
Tina giggles and blushes. “Oh, it’s nothing but a light read,” she says modestly. “I was reading on the possibility for highly maneuverable aircraft.”
“So… Stuff that’s smaller and easier to steer than this?” I ask.
She nods. “It’s a new idea, but I think I’ll be able to manage it. I’ve already made smaller models in my lab.”
“Really? Could I see one?”
She smiles and pulls a small toy out of her purse. It was a shiny brass dragonfly, and it glittered brightly in her palm. She winds the toy up, pulls out the key, and lets it into the air. Amazingly, the little machine maneuvers expertly into the air, doing graceful twirls and flips with ease.
I watch it zoom in the air with fascination. “That’s incredible!” I say, awestruck. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything like it!”
Tina blushes modestly at my complement. “Of course, making a small version is always easier than one that can actually carry humans, but given the right materials, I think it could be possible!” She holds out her hand again and the toy lands smoothly in her palm before she tucks it away in her bag.
“So are you going to DC to get a patent on it or something?” I ask.
“Oh no, I’ve got other business to attend to there,” she says, suddenly uncomfortable. “Actually, I have to get ready for it now. We’ll have to talk some other time.”
I grin and get up. “Well, I suppose I’ll see you around, then!” I chuckle as I step outside of the room.
She gives me a shy smile. “Perhaps,” she says playfully before closing the door.
I chuckle to myself as I stride through the hall. Oh, trust me Twi, we’ll DEFINITELY be seeing each other soon.
-------
When I finally return to my room with the silk pajamas, I find Bluffton snoring loudly, a bit of drool collecting at the corner of his mouth. I chuckle and set the pajamas on the table next to his bed, then move towards my own to sit down and think. What could the president want from me? Maybe I’m going to be signing a new law or something… But that doesn’t sound like something Discord would do… Anyways, where would the other girls come in?
I glance up to the wall to find a particularly odd portrait hanging above my bed: It had a man with a scraggly white beard wearing a Viking helmet with mismatched horns and a flea-bitten fur coat. He was riding a polar bear into the desert with a stupidly heroic pose, and he was followed closely by a horde of raccoons on lions. Rolling my eyes, I stand up to face the portrait. “Now you’re just getting obvious, Discord,” I sigh.
“Whatever do you mean?” A voice behind asks smoothly. I jump in surprise to find that Discord was sitting in a chair behind me, nonchalantly sipping on some pink lemonade.
I glare at the demigod. “You set me up, you son of a bitch!” I growl.
“Ah, but it was funny, right?” He grins.
I sigh in defeat. “Yeah, it was pretty funny,” I admit.
“Haha! Yes! Score one for the Chaos Lord!” He cackles, pumping his fist up and down. A loud cheer rings through the room, and some guy in a cheap falcon suit begins to dance around the room.
“Shh! In case you haven’t noticed, there’s someone else in the room!” I hiss.
Discord sighs and snaps his fingers, causing the cheers to stop. The mascot falcon shakes his head theatrically before quietly exploding. “You used to be fun, you know that?” Discord says, obviously annoyed.
“That was before I had all this shit happen to me,” I smirk. “Now what do you want?”
“Well, first off, you’ve spent WAAAAY to much time on this bucket of bolts, so I’m here to speed things up!” He pulls himself up and claps his hand. “TO THE WHITE HOUSE!” He declares.
At the White House…
I turn around to see that the interior of the airship had disappeared. In its place was a hallway filled with portraits of former presidents, large busts of former presidents, and a large portrait of the current president, a tough-looking guy with a kick-ass beard. “What the hell!” I cry out in surprise. “Did you just-“
“Transcend the limits of time itself? Yup, but only because the weirdo at the computer says to,” Discord sighs. He looks up at the ceiling and yells “YOU CAN STOP FISHING FOR LAUGHS WITH REFRENCES, PEOPLE ARE STARTING TO GET SICK OF IT!”
I look up at the ceiling, only to find that nothing was there. “You DO realize that you’re yelling at a ceiling, right?” I ask.
“Oh trust me, they heard me,” Discord grumbled under his breath. “But I digress. Anyways, just do your thing, Seb, while the going’s good!” With a snap of his fingers, he disappears, leaving me in the empty hall.
I turn around in confusion, trying to find out where I was. Luckily, Bluffton soon comes puffing out of the hallway, sweating like mad. “Good heavens, Professor!” He said indignantly. “Am I going to have to chase you around like a child all day?” He promptly grabs me from the wrist and drags me through the hall, never giving me a chance to explain myself. “Honestly, sometimes I feel like your babysitter, not your colleague,” he grumbles as we speed on through.
Finally, we get to the Oval Office, where the same man from the portrait and a bewildered looking Tina. “Sorry it took so long, Mr. President,” Bluffton said apologetically. “He keeps slipping away at most inconvenient times!”
“That’s alright, my friend,” the President chuckles. He steps forward and extends his hand. “I am President Ulysses S. Grant, and from I’ve heard, you’ve already met Miss Sparks. Miss Sparks is the leader of our technological division of the Secret Service.”
I look at Tina in amazement. “You didn’t mention that on the airship!”
She bites her lip nervously. “It’s classified information!” She says defensively. “I can’t just talk about it with anyone!”
The President chuckles. “Well, you two will be working together on this one, so I’m sure you’ll be able to get to know each other much better.”
“Well, what exactly is it that we have to do, Mr. President?” I ask.
Just as he’s about to answer, the door to the Oval Office bursts open, revealing a blond woman in a leather duster and Stetson standing coolly at the entrance. “You wanted to see me, Grant?” She asked bluntly.
A small, wimpy-looking man scurries behind her, looking absolutely appalled. “I am SO sorry, Mr. President, she just came bursting in and-“
“It’s quite alright, Worthing,” President Ulysses grins. “I was about to tell them about the mission anyways, so it’s good to have them all here. Tina, Sebastian, this is Jacklyn Smith. She’s going to be your guide on your mission to the west!”