Mandatory Bonus Re-Briefing

March 12, 2005

After the March 12th session, in the GM conference with John:

Dick: Just before you lose consciousness, you see a figure in white wearing a gas mask step out from behind a bulky filing cabinet, point a laser pistol at the back of Jacques-Y's head, and fire. There is a brief sizzle as Jacques-Y's brains boil. The figure turns to face you, knowing you are about to lose consciousness. Before you can lift a finger, you black out. When you regain consciousness...
John: New clone?
Dick: My, aren't we pessimistic. Nope. You're still John-R-SNO-1. When you regain consciousness, you're sitting at your desk at R&D. The jackobot is still telling you about its emotional problems. If it weren't for the feeling in your lungs of having recently inhaled a lot of knockout gas, you might have assumed you had nodded off while listening to your patient. You have a memory of attending a briefing, but it seems no more real to you than a vivid dream.
John: I quickly check the time on my PDC.
Dick: You notice a text message from the Computer giving you orders to report to a briefing room in the FRA Sector. From the time stamp, you received the message four hours ago.
John: I leap up out of my chair and race out the door. "Computer business!"
Dick: As if on cue, the sector-wide loudspeaker crackles with the voice of the Computer. "John-R-SNO-1. Where are you? You were ordered to report to briefing four hours ago."
John: "A thousand apologies, friend Computer. I, um, lost track of time. It won't happen again."
Computer: "Your second statement is certainly correct. I am dispatching members of IntSec to discuss your tardiness problem with you after your briefing. Due to time constraints, they have been instructed to keep the trial short."
John: I try not to wince as I race for the means of transport the Computer has provided.
Dick: Again, it's a transbot packed with INFRAREDs.
John: On this particular occasion, I refrain from taunting them.
Dick: When you arrive at the designated briefing room in the FRA Sector. The door is exactly the same as you remember from your strange daycycle dream. The trio of GREEN IntSec goons is new, though. The biggest of the three eyes you. "You John-R-SNO-1?"
John: I swallow hard. "Yes."
Dick: He hooks a thumb as thick as a laser barrel over his shoulder toward the door. "Your briefing is in here. Make it snappy. We have other things to do."
John: I glance up at the security camera scanning this corridor and suppress the urge to say something witty that will get me killed, and move toward the door.
Dick: The biggest GREEN steps in front of you. "That's a nice sweater you have there, Citizen, but it's hardly appropriate attire for a Troubleshooter. I have a mind to fine you for being out of uniform."
John: I grit my teeth. "This was a personal gift from the Computer. Do you really think I'm out of uniform, or are you just jealous because you don't have one? What does that say about your troubled psyche, Citizen, that you - a GREEN - are jealous of the Computer's gift to a lowly RED?"
Dick: He pushes you back away from the door.
John: I deliberately stagger until I am directly under the camera and out of its view. I'm trying to make it look like an accident.
Dick: Interesting. (Rolls a die in secret) His buddies laugh. They all take the truncheons from the belt holsters and walk slowly toward you, laughing with every step.
John: I yank out a grenade and hold it up, ready to pull the pin. Making my best cowering voice, I plead for my life. "Please, Citizens! I have been summoned for an important mission by the Computer. I am already late. Please do not increase my tardiness by waylaying me!"
Dick: Your Management's a 10, right? Care to spend any Perversity?
John: Yes, 10. I'll spend 5.
Dick rolls in secret - 10, for a margin of 5.
Dick: They hesitate, suddenly realizing that the corridor is too narrow to dive away from the blast and too long to get out of it before the grenade explodes. Even though the grenade probably wouldn't kill them, given the armor they're wearing, it seems like a waste of time to attack you when you are in a position of superiority.
John: "P-please step away from the door, Citizens."
Dick: They do, edging into wide flanking positions so they can flee or go in for the kill, as the situation dictates.
John: I scream "John-R-SNO-1 reporting for duty, Friend Computer!" as I charge toward the door.
Dick smiles benevolently: You handled that situation well. Have a point of Perversity. The door opens in front of you, revealing a briefing room very different from the one you remember from before. Oh, and what's your Agility?
John: Damn! 1.
Dick: Would you like to spend Perversity to make it through the door instead of tripping over your shoelaces while surrounded by the bunch of GREEN goons you just threatened with a grenade?
John (sighing): Yes. 5.
Dick: I'll even let you roll it. See how much I trust you?
John rolls a 9.
Dick: You fall on your face just short of the door.
John: New clone?
Dick: Such a pessimist, John. This isn't Zap. Now that the doors are open, the GREENs know the briefing officer knows you're here, and molesting you further would mean answering to whoever is inside.
John: I pick myself up with as much dignity as I can muster and step into the briefing room.
Dick: The briefing room is a dark, empty chamber with a single stool in the middle upon which shines a spotlight. The door slides swiftly and silently shut behind you. An obviously electronically distorted voice speaks to you from the darkness. "Take a seat, John-R."
John: I do so, trying to look appropriately ashamed for being late.
Dick: "I am Jacques-Y-CHC-2. Your teammates have already been briefed and are currently in the process of being outfitted at a PLC warehouse, so I will have to keep this brief. A brief briefing. Ha!" You hear a very electronic-sounding laugh. You almost don't recognize it as a laugh at all. Despite the electronic manipulation of the sound, it is probably the least artificial laugh you've heard since you were a Junior Citizen. "Your apparent mission is to escort a transbot of technicians, humanitarian aid, and equipment essential to repairing a damaged nuclear reactor from the FRA Sector to the heart of the IRQ Sector, where saboteurs have been busy, well, sabotaging everything. Long story short, the only Hot Fun on that transbot is in the form of high-caliber weapons, some (if not all) of the technicians are actually Commie mutant traitors, and all those radioactive materials supposedly intended to repair the nuclear reactor are actually WMDs that very powerful traitor wants to smuggle into the IRQ Sector - where, conveniently enough, most of the security cameras have been disrupted by the recent power failures caused by all this sabotage. Your mission is to find out who is smuggling the WMDs, who his, her, or their buyer is, and produce enough evidence of the traitors' misdeeds to convince the Computer to terminate them. If the traitors wriggle out of this with their skins intact, they are more than capable of making you suffer for a very, very, very long time."
John: "Who are you really?"
Dick: "That information is not available at your security clearance, Citizen."
John: "Then why should I obey your orders instead of the Computer's?"
Dick: "Because if you fail me, I am also more than capable of making you suffer for a very, very, very long time. It might, in fact, be better for you to keep our little chat a secret. The official mission record will not include this re-briefing. As far as the Computer ever need know, Jacques-Y delivered his briefing to the tardy Troubleshooter minutes before his office was unexpectedly demolished."
John: "If you know so much about what's really going on, why can't you get the evidence yourself?"
Dick: "Even if I were personally involved, I could still fail, Citizen. And if these traitors knew I was involved, they would certainly make me suffer immense hardship. Any other questions, Citizen? We are running out of time."
John: I hesitate for a moment. "Why aren't you fining me for being insubordinate?"
Dick: "Because you haven't failed me. Yet. If you do, well, I am having this room monitored for my personal records." The door suddenly slides open. "Gentlemen, if you'd care to join us?" The GREEN goons enter the room boldly, at first, but they quickly grow less confident when they realize they can't see who's talking to them. They get really uneasy when the door closes behind them. The electronic voice addresses you, again. "Unfortunately, despite my clever little trick, it is imperative that we keep up appearances. You were four hours late for a briefing. These IntSec agents have determined that you are guilty of failing to obey an order given by the Computer. As punishment, they have determined that you will have to wear this for the remainder of the mission." A metal disc attached to a small battery pack by a short wire clatters to the ground near the stool. One of the GREENs bellows at the darkness, "Hey! You ain't the boss of us!" You hear a laser fire a moment before a brief sizzle from the GREEN indicates that one of his eyes and his brain have boiled out of his skull. The electronic voice sighs. "Anyone else have any last words?"
John: I bend down to pick up the object. "What is it?"
Dick: The GREENs draw slugthrowers and point them into the darkness.
John: I flatten myself against the ground, covering my ears with my hands.
Dick: Just in the nick of time, too. You catch a glimpse of two BLUEs in combat armor in the brief illumination of the muzzle flash of their semi-automatic slugthrowers. The slugs rip the legs off your stool, pepper the surprised GREEN goons, and ricochet off the walls. You have a couple close calls in the five seconds it takes for the noise to stop. The electronic voice continues as if nothing unusual had happened. "You wear the self-adhesive disc against your spine at the belt line. It's linked to your PDC's calendar. Whenever you miss an appointment, the disc shocks the urine out of you to encourage you to be on time, in the future. The same thing happens if you turn off the PDC. I strongly urge you to keep careful track of your appointments for the remainder of your mission, Citizen."
John: I stand up slowly and nod with a bootlicker's smile.
Dick: "Good. I'm glad to see you still have your self-preservation instinct in you, John-R. Now, hurry over to the Power Services warehouse. The rest of your team will be waiting for you, but they won't wait forever."
John: I put on the punishment belt, tiptoe around the larger pools of blood, and slip through the (hopefully open) door.
Dick: Just before the door closes behind you, you hear the electronic voice comment to his guards, "Nice shooting, comrades."
John: Shit. I'm totally screwed, aren't I?
Dick: Yup. See next week, John.
John: I hate you.
Dick: That's why my Mom named me Dick. She knew I'd GM Paranoia, one day.