April 14, 2006

 

Detroit

 

        Powerful and dark skyscrappers loom over you in every direction, that when added to the thick impenetrable blanket of smog covering the city, gives off the impression of a dungeon that you cannot escape from. From the distance you can hear the loud explosion of gun-shots, followed by the pitiful wailing of sirens that are soon drowned out by the overall feel of dispair and loneliness. From a nearby darkened alleyway you can feel the stares of the lost and the forgotten. Crime rules this slum-city, and their chaos reigns supreme over the desperate attempts by the overworked and disheartened local authorities. Welcome to Detroit City. Please enjoy your stay.

 

Contents:

Overclock

 

There are suburban areas sprawled over the megacity of Detroit, in the area that might have at one time been incloser proximity to Ann Arbor, Michigan. The city still looms in the background casting clouds over developments, on multiple layers, of small picket-fence style homes. The houses are cramped a bit, but in a cozy way. It is here, built on a third-tier construction level above an airway tailor made for American-built hovercars, that the GNN van will find the home of Wendy and Henry O'Connor. It looks stock, like any other home in this neighborhood, painted creme-color with just slightly dingy shutters. This is, at least, according to sources, the parents of now-deceased Linda O'Connor-Matheson, who, at least according to research, was the mother of a now-Maverick. It doesn't, of course, scream out 'Maverick' at first glance.

Chest isn't quite sure how he's going to handle this. Hello, Mr. and Mrs. O'Connor, I'm terribly sorry to hear that your grandson turned into a homicidal maniac and is responsible for the death and crippling of many people. Say, that's a lovely front yard you have. I just love what you've done with the shutters. May I come in?

        Chest is actually traveling by hover-limo this evening, and it doesn't take him long to wonder if maybe this was the wrong choice. Looking out of the window from the back of the limo, he can see dreary, dull and drab Detroit pass him by. It's kind of depressing, and doesn't do anything to lift Chest's sad demeanor right now. The hover-limo slows up and pulls over to the curb by the stock home of the O'Connors. There's a technological hiss of air from its repulsor lifts as the car lowers itself to the ground. Not too low, though, as if the limo doesn't want to have to actually touch the asphalt in this city.

        "Are you sure you want to go through with this, sir? I hardly think there's anything worthwhile to be learned," Chest's limo driver (aka Iota squad's Driver Man) asks. Chest answers but getting out of the limo onto the sidewalk. He's followed by Camera, who blessedly is being quiet.

 

The light is on, at the front of the home, as the couple who lives here now alone was expecting the guests. There's a little movement behind the drawn front curtain, and then, the door opens as an older man, presumedly the man of the house, of course, opens up the front door. He's probably around sixty or close to seventy, with a bald top and greying temples, though everything trimmed and clean. He has a bit of a belly which is under a suit shirt and sweater; he apparently dressed well even though this is not, as he's been made to understand, anything along the lines of a live special. Which is... of course, better off. He looks nervously at the camera, but offers a handshake to the newsman.

 

"Best behavior, Camera," Chest snaps preemptively. Camera whistles back an affirmative. The pair leave the safety of the idling limo, hovering and rolling up the walkway. This place isn't -that- bad, Chest tells himself, ignoring what might be several sirens blaring off in the distance. Nothing so far that screams 'I hate humans/robots'. But of course, Chest has already guessed that Overclock's troubled upbringing didn't affect what would be his eventual destination - just that it guaranteed he was probably going to be screwed up. Chest read up briefly on Henry and Wendy O'Connor, though there wasn't a lot of information. Stopping at the front door, Chest raises a white gloved hand and raps his knuckle on the door three times.

 

From what Chest knows, these are... by and large, ordinary people, borderline boring, and not evident from history as to why their grandson might be so messed up. The problems might lie, rather, in family that has since passed: the mother and father can't talk about their situations. Henry worked in the automobile industry, as did Chris's father, and there's no real history of criminal activity save that might be common for the larger edges of extended family. And, well, the grandson himself being a large exception.

            Henry opens the door and offers that handshake, very quickly when Chest arrives. They had probably been...camping...the front door, after they got the phone call, but this was considerably nerve-wracking in a way. "So you must be Chest, then. ... Do people tell you you look shorter in person?" Henry asks nervously. But then he realizes it was probably a bad joke, and he'd just said what came immediately to mind. "Come in, come in."

            The house interior is unremarkable, filled with the sort of curios that people tend to collect over the years, a stack of coffee-table books, and a few model cars set on shelves. The television setup is probably on the high end, but it's pushed to one side of the main sitting room and tucked away in a shut cherry cabinet.

            "Can I fix something to drink?" asks a female voice from the kitchen, as Chest and his Camera are invited to enter.

 

Chest doesn't have long to wait, it seems. No sooner than he lowers his hand from knocking does the door swing open. Chest takes the handshake, giving a firm, fairly confident one. Chest generally doesn't get nervous before he interviews people, but this is a slight exception. He just can't help but feel -bad- for these people. Their daughter murdered by their grandchild is horrible enough. But while normally this sort of thing will at least fade emotionally, their grandson is still alive, hurting and killing others.

        Chest laughs at the joke even though it wasn't funny. It wouldn't have mattered how stupid the joke was. "Thank you," he replies to the offer to come on in. Camera beeps something softly, and judging that Chest doesn't smack the drone one, it probably wasn't an insult. "This is a lovely home," Chest says, though again he'd say that no matter what. Standing at the entryway, following Henry wherever he might lead them, Chest calls back towards the voice, "A cup of tea would be excellent, if you have it."

 

Henry leads him over to sitting area; there is a leather style reclining chair which is probably his, and looks well-worn, but which he offers to Chest himself. He'll probably sit on the couch.

            "I'm having red wine, if you don't mind it; and I think I'm going to need it if we're getting through this," Wendy calls out. It's in, another forced-cheerful, joking way. "But yes," she continues to call from a room over, "I'll put on tea, and I apologize for the state of the place--" which is, of course, perfectly clean.

            Henry shakes his head and makes an 'ignore that' sort of gesture. "We were, aherm," he coughs, and resumes, "surprised, to get your call."

 

Chest feels bad about taking what's probably the best seat in the house, but he'd feel worse if he rejected the best seat in the house. He goes ahead and sits on the leather reclining chair, sitting at the very edge. Chest just isn't able to get comfortable in it. Not bothering to say that the place is in fact perfectly clean despite Mrs. O'Connor's apology, Chest looks towards Henry and the couch. "Yes, well, I recently took an interest in the Mavericks ever since my, uh, my trip to Mars." Normally Chest would mention how you can read all about it in his new book, but doesn't bother now. "Your grandson was one of the Mavericks that went along on the trip. Even though I personally didn't really speak to him, I did use the time to try to better understand the Mavericks and the way they work."

 

Wendy brings out a tea tray, and also her bottle of wine. There's also whiskey apparently in store but for the moment Henry doesn't touch it. It's evident it's sort of a touchy subject, but they're being as hospitable as possible. Wendy is Henry's age, with hair that is silver-grey and a little thinning. It's darker halfway down, evidence that it was either once died or is just growing grey unevenly. She's thin, but not frail and looks reasonably healthy. "Barbara, that's my sister, she told me, about the book you'd written, and what she saw in there, and she said: well, that's CHRIS, and... you'll have to forgive me but I didn't believe it. So I got a copy, and I read it..."

            "And sure enough," Henry says, as if to ask her to stop rambling for a minute. "Mr. Chest, we honestly weren't certain about doing this interview, you understand. But if it's something that helps put Linda to rest, then..." He swallows, "Then we'll do that. We didn't like to think about the idea that the boy was still alive. Let alone doing half of what you wrote about."

 

Chest gratefully takes the mug of tea into both his hands, offering a quiet "Thank you," so as not to interrupt her talking. "You, uh, you didn't know that Chris was still alive?" he asks. Chest knows that Overclock's real name is something that was never well advertised. According to Prismatic Spider Dr. Light knew, and apparently it was mentioned on the global broadband frequency that many of the major players of the Robot Wars tend to use. Global broadband is not something that the average joe has access to. Or would want to get access to. Before he goes any further, Chest says, "I realize this is an uncomfortable topic, and I don't want to reopen any wounds that have been closed," He is doing his best to be tactful and compassionate here. "So if there are any questions that you don't want to answer, feel free to let me know. They'll be off limits."

 

Both of them look at one another, and then Wendy sits down. She folds her hands. "I guess it's something, that we realized deep down, but didn't want to think about much."

            "And you're telling me he's been to Mars. One of the first I'd imagine. That's quite a feat." Henry coughs again. "It's tough to figure out how to feel about that. Can't really say I'm proud. But yet, you want to be proud." A pause, he shakes his head. "Tough to say."

            "What would you like to ask about?" Wendy asks, starting to pour tea now. "If it's uncomfortable, we'll say, but it's... hard to know where to start."

 

Chest hesitates. He grips his tea and wonders who knows more about Overclock here. "Well maybe I should start. Chris, your grandson, goes by the name Overclock these days. He's a Maverick cyborg who apparently doesn't like to be, um, doesn't like to be associated with being human," Wow, Chest thinks, that's not a nice thing to have to tell someone's grandparents. "Anyway, he's with the Mavericks as something that they call a 'full convert cyborg'. At any rate, he seems to serve as sort of a half warrior, half medic for them. Apparently he's really picked up a lot of skills with cybernetics - even more than what he got from his education before becoming a Maverick."

        "As you might know from the news, during the recent crisis on Mars many factions sent their own force up to Mars to insure that their own interests were seen to. Overclock was part of the Maverick force. I was forced along on that journey." This is really uncomfortable.

 

Wendy responds, a bit ramblingly, "Oh, I read the section of the book, after Barbara told me she was sure it was him. In fact, I read the whole book, but that part was very interesting... I thought, before she SHOWED it to me, that maybe that was some other young man who went by that name. But, everything you wrote did... sound like him, in a way. I looked on the internet and saw he'd been in the news a few times, but they only use that... code name, most often."

            "He was at least sixty percent metal when I saw him last," Henry says, with a slight scoff. "Not a surprise really. I hate that name. Overclock. That's something you do to a computer, not a person."

 

Chest nods, first at Wendy in understanding, and then at Henry with agreement. The idea of hating your own species so much that you'd mutilate yourself until you were no longer one of them is terrible. "Chris apparently didn't want others to really know about his history, and he was a minor enough member of the Coalition that he didn't really have to worry about any intense scrutiny. But after serving with them for so long it was bound to be made public. Well, more public than before." Now specifically to Henry, he asks, "When -was- the last time you saw Chris?"

 

"Hm." He actually has to think about it. It's been a few years. "Few days before she died," Henry finally says. "And I guess it took another day to find her; we didn't even know first thing. And then it was all over the papers and then it disappeared. He wasn't at her funeral."

 

"What was he like back then?" Chest asks as a follow-up question. "I mean both physically at this point and mentally? Was it apparent that there were... some major problems? What did you and Linda make of his 'accidents' that forced him to get cybernetic replacements? What kind of individual was he?"

 

"That's a lotta questions," Henry says. He's trying to figure out which to answer first. "Second accident wasn't an accident. Did it on purpose. His mom knew it; we all knew it; whole neighborhood knew it. They had this loophole, though. He wasn't quite eighteen, and never should've been using a plasma saw without supervision. So the school settled out of court because they were negligent, at least, to the law."

            "It happened at school," Wendy clarifies in case Chest didn't know. She is now in to filling her second glass of wine. "He never actually graduated; he did WELL, he worked after-hours, but he didn't always work on the same projects that teachers actually assigned. He didn't like his teachers much, I think. I remember when he was a little boy, he said he wanted to be a doctor, but... you know he never really had the grades, at least for a long time."

            "Yeah, there were problems. Linda and him fought a lot. She'd call crying." Henry looks away. "Not a good kid. By any stretch."

 

Chest notices that she's already on her second glass of wine in just several minutes, but he doesn't say anything about it. Camera does, though, whistling something about how it figures a Maverick psycho would have a bunch of drunks for grandparents. Chest obviously doesn't bother translating for the little drone. "Sorry," Chest says first about asking too many questions at once. He'd shiver at the idea of a seventeen year old chopping himself up with a plasma saw had he not already read about it many times. "What were the types of things that they'd fight about, mostly? Normal teenager stuff? Schoolwork? Did Chris have any friends or anything while he was at school?"

 

"He had friends. Drug addicts. Drunks." Henry actually gives Wendy a sort of glance there.

            She seems to notice she's been drinking quickly, and blushes. "I'm sorry. It's just really a hard thing to talk about; I think it's easier if I just relax a little bit, after everything..." She looks at Chest, and sets down her glass. "Do you want to see pictures?"

            "Don't bring out the--" This plea is wasted since Wendy is already going for the scrap book, so, Henry sighs. "Yeah, he had friends but he didn't really run with the good crowd. Chris was in to basketball for a while. They didn't let him play for the school so he only played street. He'd be out late, Linda'd be worried. He'd get high or get in a fight."

 

Chest pretends like he doesn't notice the little communication there between Henry and Wendy. "Not a problem. I can't go long without wine either." This seems to remind Chest that he needs to drink his tea. He goes ahead and takes his first sips of it. It isn't bad, though he really isn't in the mood for it. He asked for it just out of politeness. Chest forces himself up to brighten up at the news of pictures. "That'd be delightful!" he exclaims despite Henry's protests. "What ended up happening to his friends?" Chest asks Henry as Wendy goes for the picture book. He's curious if they all became screwed up or if some of them were able to get their life back on track.

 

"A lot of them are still locals," Wendy says, getting out the picture book. She flips through it a bit. "Do you know the name Eugene Chaud, though? I remember seeing he'd gotten famous somehow or another. He was one of the boys that he got into fights with now and then."

            Henry sniffs a little at that name too. Apparently all of that crowd was probably good for nothing in his eyes.

            Wendy opens the book to a picture of a woman around thirty. She has auburn hair, and greenish eyes. "That's Linda."

            The book has a few pictures of Chris, or, a boy who is apparently Linda's son, but who doesn't look like Overclock much in the least. A few of his father, Daniel, who was dark of complexion and hair, and tall, and a bit older than Linda apparently. Chris apparently ended up somewhere in the middle, a little too tan to pass for white, but not as dark as his father was. Afterschool activities like sports aren't really pictured, but in some of the older looking pictures the father and son were working together on cars. None of the pictures look like dingy or bad prints; digital technology is a good thing.

 

"Eugene Chaud? That rings a bell, actually. He's hooked up with SciTech somehow. They're one of the organizations that Interpol basically split up into," Chest refrains from making an Interpol joke here, even though there are so many to choose from. He's glad to hear that some people managed to dig themselves out of this place and make something of their lives. He'd feel bad if everyone that came from here was doomed right from the start. Chest scoots over so he can get a better view of the picture book. "Linda was a beautiful woman," Chest says, not making it up. "Daniel died when Chris was young if I recall," Chest says after seeing one of the pictures of Overclock and his dad working on cars. "Early teens? How did he take it?"

 

"Pretty young. And real hard. It didn't um..." Henry takes a breath, and shakes his head. "It didn't happen fast. He worked at a plant, Danny did, and, come to find later there were some code violations there: with ventilation, and it did something to his lungs. Linda didn't take it well either. I guess that was the start of Chris getting distant, about that time."

            "Yes. She was," Wendy says, and seems to be ready to cry, but, holding back from doing so. "She was just doing her best. It's hard to work full time and raise an unruly kid, and she was a saint, she really was."

 

Chest can imagine Chris telling himself that if his dad had cybernetic lungs, the smoke or chemicals or whatever it was wouldn't have fazed him, much less killed him. Chest supposes it all comes down to the fact that, in the end, from a purely performance angle, cybernetics definitely -are- superior to the organic kind in nearly every area. "What were the things that he and Linda would fight about?" Chest asks. He asked this before, but this was one of his barrage of questions, so it's no wonder that some will get lost.

 

 

Henry recognizes that it's a repeat, so he tries to answer more specifically. "The last few fights they had, were about that last accident. How she said, she knew, he'd done it on purpose. And he said he'd done it on accident. I think the doctors screwed him up anyway, m'self."

            "There were a lot of treatments and drugs, things that were supposed to rebalance him. They were so expensive. I told her..." Wendy sighs, and picks up her half-empty second glass again. "I told her it was costing her a fortune but she ... she was determined, she was going to take her best care of Chris. She didn't want to lose what she had left of that family."

 

"Really?" Chest asks, genuinely curious when Henry says that he thinks the doctors screwed up. Chest tries to think back to how advanced cybernetics was several years ago, also taking into account Chris's already extensive cybernetic implants and the fact that he needed both arms replaced. Chest doesn't really keep himself informed with the latest in human medical treatment. Chest's attention is then diverted over to Wendy. He nods in understanding. "After Linda died and Chris vanished, was there any sign or communication from him at all? How much were the police able to piece together?"

 

"No, he never called, but he did the courtesy of cleaning out her bank account," Henry says. Wendy frowns at her glass and remains quiet at this moment. "I'm no detective; I watch the shows, you know; but nobody else could've done it," he continues. "He didn't know his own strength, that's all. Bet he still doesn't, does he?"

 

Chest hesitates and then shrugs at that last question, "I don't know. He probably has a better idea of what he can and can't do by now. From all reports he's one of the more calm, intellectual Mavericks out there." Quiet for a moment, Chest wonders if he should offer trying to find out for sure if it was Chris that cleaned out the bank accounts. He decides against it, since it seems to be obvious enough. "So I guess we don't know exactly when he became infected and joined the Mavericks. I mean, I suppose it's possible it was /before/ Linda died. Do you know if your grandson underwent regular virus scans?"

 

Both of the couple look at one another... but then they both shake their heads. "They didn't have the... usual scans going on in places back at that time, so," Wendy tries to remember, and then it's a definite negative. "That sort of thing just wasn't common. I suppose, if I think about it, maybe he felt like he just didn't have anywhere else that he wanted to go." Her hand shakes just a bit at that. It's at the thought, that maybe they failed somehow too.

 

Chest nods in understanding. He supposes that'll have to be a mystery, then, although most signs are pointing to infection after murdering his mother. "Did Chris ever speak about his views on humanity? Or the Mavericks, or the Repliforce, or the Hunters? Or just on the whole... well, the whole comparison between robots and humans? I'm guessing that he wasn't one to share his views with his family members in long, indepth conversations, but perhaps you know a little bit about how he felt before Linda's death."

 

This question elicits another moment of thought. "Other than showing some interest, in building fighting reploids, he didn't talk at all about the Force." Henry sniffs.

            "I did hear him say just once, that he was surprised, that the Mavericks were accepting humans," Wendy says. Then she shakes her head. "Oh, oh, maybe I dreamed it, I just don't know, but I seem to recall that didn't scare him, or anything. More like, it was an interesting fact, to him. This was before there was this Neo Arcadia business."

 

Chest thinks about this. The Mavericks' dealings with humans is always an interesting and bizarre thing, given how their acceptance of cyborgs and humans seems to change every so often. Sigma's not known for being stable, or particularly consistent. Chest doubts Overclock was interested in it strictly from a sociological analysis of the Coalition, though. "I can't help but wonder what Chris would think of the Neo Arcadians now," he thinks out loud. "I mean, he seemed to favour cybernetics due to the power and... I guess efficiency that they offer. The Neo Arcadians of course now have their genetic enhancement program. Cyborgs and enhanced humans seem to have about the same level of, um, improvement, I guess you'd say. I wonder if he'd still be drawn to the Mavericks had Neo Arcadia been around."

 

"Couldn't tell ya," Henry says. "But I'd say he's pretty set with what he's picked, now. I guess I'd like to see him arrested. Don't think he can be turned around. But, probably, Sigma'll kill him."

            Wendy lets out a bit of a sob. She's finally hit the bottom of that second glass.

            Henry pats her on the shoulder. "It'll be okay. Anyway... Mars. That's something else."

 

Chest has set his tea aside on a coffee table (with a coaster, yes) some time ago. He looks over at Wendy, feeling pretty bad about making her cry. He isn't quite sure what he should do about it, though, so it just turns into an awkward, uncomfortable moment. Thankfully Henry works to change the subject, "Er, yes, Mars. Like I said, Chris was on the Maverick expedition to the planet. I was, um, an unwilling passenger. I guess I should ask you if you have any questions about what happened on Mars. Now I was a Maverick prisoner for the first part of it, and after being rescued by Epsilon I mostly just hung around the Repliforce camp. But if I know the answer to anything I'll be glad to do so."

 

"Well." And there is one question, and a unique chance to ask about it, so, Henry does. "I saw on the news, it got interrupted, and there was some kind of alien there."

 

"Yes?" Chest prompts. He doesn't know much about the alien.

 

"Well, I just was askin' if that was true. I guess no reason to think it isn't. There's been aliens."

            Wendy seems to clear up now, and sighs. "I'm sorry for that. Was there any other questions that you had?"

 

"Oh!" Chest exclaims, not realizing that this was the question. "Well yeah, there was an alien. I mean, there was an individual named Patriarch who was essentially a copy of King and he was being manipulated by the alien, who... well..." Chest trails off. "Well, there's a really great flow chart on the GNN website. I can say that the alien really did exist, and that there was indeed an alien civilization on Mars. I saw one of their bunkers or buildings myself."

        As Wendy asks if there's anything else, Chest thinks about it. He isn't sure that he wants to dredge up any more of the past for them, and he's not sure if there's anything else that he could ask. "No ma'am. I think that just about wraps it up. Thank you very much for the wonderful tea."

 

"It was just lipton from the yellow box," Wendy says. She starts to clean up. "Thank you for coming. I... mean that, because it isn't a bad thing, to know the truth, and if we were able to help you too, well, that's..."

            "Maybe they'll catch him, huh? There's hoping." Henry offers a handshake. "Good to meet you."

 

Chest stands up, nodding to Wendy. "I hope they catch him too, Mrs. O'Connor. There's always a chance" he says to Henry, shaking Henry's hand. Either that or a Maverick Hunter will track him down and massacre him. Camera beeps something that is probably just a 'goodbye'. "If you have any questions or anything, or if there's ever anything I can do, just let me know." Chest wasn't sure when he came here if he'd find that the O'Connors were crazy psychos that fit the 'type' of family that would result in a Maverick or not. It reminds him that many Mavericks come from relatively normal walks of life.

Mavericks and other juvenile dilinquents, sometimes do. "If you need copies of the pictures, I can send them," Wendy offers as she finishes cleaning up. "But don't... trouble yourself to write any more just yet. I still haven't read everything in the first one." She also gives Camera a sort of smile; it was a cute little robot.

 

There's another couple good-byes, and that seems to conclude the conversation.

            Not bad people, just a bit unlucky that way.