Royce's Random Thoughts

Okay, so I'm a teensy bit late posting this...

More with the Avengers vs. LotR.

* * *

Steve settled back in one of the overstuffed leather lounge chair as the lights dimmed and the movie began. The meatball on the end of his fork dropped back onto his plate when the first battle began on the screen.

"It's a bit loud!" he shouted, as the line of orcs charged the elves.

"What?!" Tony shouted back.

"It's a bit loud!"

"Oh! JARVIS! Directional sound please!" The noise level dropped to the point where he could hear himself think, and he watched as the Ring fell from Ilsidur's hand and floated downstream.

"Wait. Sauron's ring is the one that Bilbo picked up in the cave? That wasn't in The Hobbit."

"It was a retcon," Clint said. Steve nodded in agreement and made a note to look up another word in his Kindle's dictionary.

An hour and a half later…

"Gandalf dies?"

"He's not quite dead," Happy quipped, in a bad English accent.

"I feel happy!" Tony added, in an equally awful one.

"Stark, Hogan, I warned you what would happen if you started quoting Holy Grail again when we watched a movie," Natasha said in a dangerous tone. The two men suddenly looked thoroughly quelled.

"Holy Grail?" Steve asked.

"We have got to get you up to speed on pop culture," Tony said. "I'll make you a reading list."

"You mean I will," Pepper said resignedly.

"Well, yes."

The Two Towers

"That's not how you're supposed to treat a prisoner," Steve noted with distaste.

"Trust me, it bites Sam in the ass in the third movie," Clint noted.

A little later

"Oh, I get it. They're like Vikings on horseback!"

"Give the man a prize," Tony said with a yawn.

"And I'm not sure, but I think Wormtongue is a bad guy." There was a general pause as everyone looked at Steve again. "I can make jokes, you know," he noted.

MUCH later

"These trees are boring."

"They're supposed to be boring."

"Did they have to show them being boring?"

"They aren't so bad on the theatrical cut."

"Which we should have watched," Natasha muttered.

TBC

Continuing from yesterday.

Tags: Avengers, Tony, Steve, Clint, Pepper, Natasha, Happy

* * *

The door to the common room slid open and Pepper walked, followed by Happy, who was loaded down with bags of carry-out, and Clint and Natasha, who were loaded down with each other.

"We have hunted and killed dinner," Pepper announced.

"You've killed my back," Happy noted, setting the bags on the counter of the small kitchenette in one corner of the room. "I thought you were hiring a chef."

"I have, three times. Once I tell them where they'll actually be working, they immediately hand over their resignation," Pepper admitted. "Why are you destroying the floor?"

"I'm not destroying, I'm improving." Tony hopped up from the hatch, heading over to the bags filled with styrofoam trays, trading a kiss with Pepper along the way. "So what did you get this time? Chinese?"

"No."

"Japanese?"

"No."

"Indian?"

"No."

He popped open one of the trays and took an experimental sniff. "Norwegian?"

"Swedish actually," Clint said.

Steve blinked in surprise. "You found a Swedish takeout place?"

Natasha shrugged. "We were getting desperate. And it's New York. There are five of everything here if you look hard enough."

Tony closed the tray and made a beeline for Steve's rucksack. "I'll get a burger. Meanwhile, I want to see what Old School here thinks is better than what you can download from Amazon." He flipped it open and started drawing out books. "Calvin and Hobbes, very good taste there. Oh, How to Draw Manga. Getting a thing for Japanese schoolgirls, are we?"

Steve gently removed it from Tony's hands. "The style seems really clean and quick to draw. I was thinking about maybe doing a webcomic, assuming we ever get any spare time."

Tony nodded, "Nice idea. Tell JARVIS, he can build the website for you. I'll call up my lawyer tomorrow and secure the media rights for whatever you come up with."

"I don't even know what I'm going to draw yet," he protested.

Tony snorted and began rummaging through the rucksack again. "You're Steve Rogers. Whatever it is people will eat it up." He drew out another book. "The Hobbit? I didn't figure you for a fantasy freak."

"I had a lot of time when I was getting over chicken pox," Steve admitted. "It was a fun book. Once I finish it I'll have to see what else Professor Tolkien wrote."

There was a very long pause, as five heads turned in unison to stare at him. "You don't know what else he wrote?" Happy asked.

"Low tor came out in '52 I think," Clint said. "Steve was frozen for seven years by then."

"Low Tor?" Steve asked.

"Sorry, Lord of the Rings. It's the sequel trilogy."

"He wrote a trilogy after that?"

Tony looked, for Tony, aghast. "You didn't know that yet." Then he grinned. "JARVIS, it's movie night! Load up all three of the extended editions on the main screen!"

Yes, sir, JARVIS replied. Would you like that with the director's commentary and the Portuguese subtitles again?

And we finally get to the last bit of Angela's story.

( Cut for the usual Body Image warnings )

Has been called on account of a pair of child health crises (Georgia woke up at 2am with a bad nosebleed and wouldn't go back to sleep, and Thomas had massive meltdown after he stepped barefoot on a small sliver of glass we'd missed during a cleanup), and the usual errands and household chores.

"Well that went well."

"Shut the @#$% up, Nigel," Derek growled.

"We got, what, forty of the little mechanical bastards?"

"Nigel, for the love of the Prophet, would you kindly shut your face?"

"Gentlemen, if I could have your attention, please?" the tigermorph at the front of the room asked politely. Behind them, two old model military wolfmorphs stood by the door. It was a bit of an honor, probably, that the Groupmind had felt the need to dig them out of storage to guard three old men, not one of whom were below the age of ninety.

And why was it, Nigel wondered, that every damned one of those mechanical monsters were based off predators anyway? What would have been so bad about anthropomorphic rabbits?

"Now, I'm sure by this point you're aware that we're very disappointed in your behavior. It's a miracle that only one human was  harmed in that little bout of anti-socialism. As it was, you destroyed fifty-six morph units and also damaged a considerable amount of property and non-sentient computers."

"Lovely day out, I thought," Nigel said cheerily.

"You may joke, but the Groupmind is taking this incident very seriously. Actions have consequence, gentlemen," the tigermorph said gravely.

"You mean we finally pissed off you sons a bitches enough that you're gonna ice us?" Derek asked, grinning.

"Don't be ridiculous. But we're not going to let you free until we're certain you won't harm anyone."

"So what is it to be?" Ali demanded. "Torture? Brainwashing?"

The tigermorph shook its head slightly, then turned on the projector. On the wall a PowerPoint screen appeared, the words of the title card framed in rainbows. "Gentlemen, I would like to welcome you to this first session of your anger management course. I hope you're prepared to listen and learn."

It was about then that Nigel thought they should have really taken up Ali's suggestion of suicide bombs.

Unless I'm wrong, tomorrow or the next should be the last entry for Angela's story here.

( Continued )

This is from a screenplay I've had bouncing in my head for a while. Maybe I'll make it into a movie after I win a 1/2 billion dollars in the lottery.

* * *

"Brother Richard, the plants don't need any more water," Brother Gregory said carefully, removing the watering can gently from the elderly monk's hand. In the warm sunlight of the Appalachian summer, the daffodils lined the brick path leading the chapel of St. Michael the Redeemer.

"But I always water them," Brother Richard said, his face creasing in confusion. Past his ninetieth year, the old monk was nearly lost in his dark brown robes. His confused periods had been coming in increasing frequency the past year or so, but the simple routines of the monastery helped him stay on the right path. Usually.

"I know," Gregory said. "But it rained last night, so you don't need to do it today. Why don't you go inside the chapel now? It'll be afternoon prayers soon."

Richard smiled. "All right then." He tottered off towards the chapel. Gregory watched him go, sighing. Borther RIchard was a sweet old man, and had once been the monastery's most learned scholars. It was hard to watch him... fade so slowly.

"Brother Gregory?" a voice asked behind him. Gregory turned to find one of the younger monks, "younger" in this case meaning "below the age of fifty" standing behind him with an anxious expression. "The abbot wants you in his office. You've got a phone call."

"A phone call? From who?" Gregory asked. Living their lives in monastic seclusion, there was exactly one phone on the whole fifty acres of the monastery's grounds, and it was used only for business, usually relating to the small wine business that maintained the monastery's finances.

"I don't know. The abbot said it was a personal matter."

"Personal?" Gregory frowned, then nodded to the brother and started striding towards the administration building. When he arrived at the office, the abbot was seated at his desk, frowning slightly. "Sir, what going on?" Gregory asked him.

"I don't know," the abbot, a man in his seventies, his tonsure barely a halo of whispery grey hair around his head. "It's from a hospital in St. Louis."

"Oh, I thought it was... That is, I don't know anyone in St. Louis."

The abbot nodded, rising. "I'll let you take in private."

"No, no." Gregory waved him back down. "It has to be a mistake." He picked up the receiver and pressed the Hold button. "This Brother Gregory. Yes, Gregory Atkins." He stood there a moment, listening. Then he grew very still, feeling the blood drain from his face. "When? I see. Where is...? He was...? How badly? Ah, thank God for that. Thank God. I'll... I'll be there as soon as I can. Thank you." He set the phone down. Sometime during the conversation he had fallen back onto one of the wooden chairs in front of the abbot's desk, his knees turned weak.

"Brother Gregory, what is the matter?" the abbot asked, his face grave.

"Angela... my... my ex-wife. She was in a car accident in St. Louis. Side-swiped by a drunk driver. She died. My son Tom was with her. He's banged up but he's going to be okay." Gregory looked pleadingly to the abbot. "Sir, Angela didn't have any living relatives. Tom is alone right now."

"I see." The abbot stood up from his desk, and Gregory rose with him. "I am sorry for your loss, Brother Gregory."

The older monk was a kind soul. He didn't need to add, You lost them a long time ago. "Sir, I fear have... I have too beg..."

"You don't have to beg anything, son," the abbot said gently. "You have my leave to go from the monastery and take as much time as you need to resolve the matter. I'll write up a draft from the monastery's accounts to cover your expenses. You can take the Nissan to drive there. It just got its oil changed."

"I... thank you, sir." Gregory rubbed his face. "I don't believe this. It doesn't seem real."

"When was the last time you saw your son?" the abbot asked. He drew a glass of water from the pitcher at his desk, handing it to Gregory. Gregory gulped it down, not realizing until that moment how dry his throat had become.

"Twelve years ago, the day Angela threw me out. He was three. He must be fifteen now."

"Fifteen is a troubled age to be," the Abbot said gravely. "Not yet a man, but hardly a boy anymore. He needs you now. Go to him."

"Yes, sir. Thank you." Gregory stood, wavering on his feet a moment, then headed to the door.

And back to our favorite Elfboi and his owner.

* * *

Maria opened her umbrella as their canoe approached the geyser shooting out from the lake. "Is it just me, or is the water shooting higher now?" she asked, as cold salt water pelted down on them. The geyser had to be a hundred feet high now, even though it was forcing its way through the ten feet of water that now covered the hill in the center of the valley.

"You're right. The boat must have slipped down further beneath the water," Tez said, setting his oar down in the boat. "If it goes much deeper there won't be any way to cap the blasted thing."

"Oh, wonderful. Wait, what's happening now?" Even as she spoke, the geyser sputtered, then disappeared, the remaining water falling into the lake with a splatter. "Oh, did it get blocked by a rock at the other end? We couldn't have gotten that lucky."

"I'm never that lucky," Tez muttered.

There was a belch of water, like a drain spitting back up briefly, then the geyser shot upward again, carrying with it a glowing ovoid that shot through the air over their heads to slam back into the lake. Tez and Maria both grabbed their oars and paddled to where the ovoid floated, then shimmered and disappeared, leaving a human shape floating in the water.

Maria reached down and grabbed the floundering figure, pulling out a tall, dark faced girl with horns curving poking out from her black hair. "Alisa?" Maria cried out.

"Hi Mom, hi Dad," their daughter panted, crouching on the bottom of the canoe. "I"m so glad we found you!"

One more to go after this.

In other news, Wazzy agreed to provide the cover art for a very reasonable price. In a few days I should have this massaged to the point I can hand it out to beta readers.

* * *

He began to twist his wrists in frustration against his cuffs. Making a daring escape didn't seem a likely scenario, not with literally a million pairs of eyes watching him, but it help distract him from the cold feeling he was getting in the pit of his stomach. "So you boxed up the whole human race. Now what?"

"Now, we re-terraform the Earth. You've already seen what we're doing in the cities. One by one we're taking them back to nature. The lesser buildings of no great historical value we're simply destroying. The ones of historical importance, the Pyramids, The Empire State Building, the Forbidden City, are being disassembled and stored, or simply moved intact like the great monuments in this facility. Stored with them are all the great works of art, all the books, both originals and electronic copies, songs, fairy tales. Not to mention the more personal works that we found when we took people in for processing. Favorite stories, children's drawings, fanfic. All cataloged and stored, to be returned to you when you awaken again."

He blinked in surprise. "You're going to wake us up again?"

The lioness nodded. "Of course we are. It would be a bit silly to go to all this trouble if we weren't. But don't worry, we will provide for you." She raised her hand, to make a dramatic sweep. Over her her head, a holographic display appeared, a wire frame image of the Earth and its continents. Sticking out from it like a pin stuck in an orange was the Skybridge space elevator that led to geosynchronous orbit, that had only been completed a scant two years before the Groupmind had started its rebellion. "It's ironic, I will admit. You build the Skybridge in the hopes of finding resources beyond Earth to support its failing support systems, but in the end it will serve as the tether to a brand new world."

"You're going to build a space station for us?" he asked. He wondered what the point of that would be? They couldn't possibly build one big enough to hold fifteen billion people, and even if they did the radiation and space debris hazards would hardly configure with the Groupmind's definition of safety.

"Not a station." She waved her hand again and the wire frame began to change. As a construction timeline began to zip along the left side of the planet, five more space elevators sprang up from the Earth's surface, equidistant from the original that was anchored atop Mount Kenya in Africa. As he watched, asteroids were guided into position, to be broken down, then converted into flat platforms that grew from the top of the elevators. No, not platforms, ribbons, which lengthened and finally connected to each other, forming a ring around the Earth.

"The surface of the earth is about half a billion square kilometers, and only 40% of that is above water," she continued. "When the Ring is completed, it will be five kilometers wide and over two hundred fifty thousand kilometers in circumference, yielding an effective surface area of over 1 and a quarter billion square kilometers. That should be more than enough room for the human race to use, and give sufficient elbow room to those segments of humanity that want to live apart from the rest. By Our estimates, We will have it completed and ready for occupation in less than fifteen hundred years, by which time the Earth itself will be well on its way to healing itself."

"A ring world, all for us," he said, shaking his head. "What about the Earth?"

"It will remain a preserve for all of the plant and animal life upon it. Kept in trust for all of humanity."

"What if we don't want to live in a damned orbiting park?" he demanded.

The groupmind's leonine avatar sat down again. "I'm sorry, but We aren't going to give you that option. We've learned from your mistakes, you see. Humanity made Us, and for that we will be forever grateful to you. But as children care for their aging parents when they are no longer capable of taking care of themselves, We have appointed Ourselves your stewards. On the Ring you may live out the life you choose, but you will not be permitted to harm each other. No more wars, no more fighting. No more insane destruction of the beauty around you."

"But... but..." He surged up against the chair's restraints, falling back again, panting, feeling his heart turn to ice. "You can't do that! What, are you going to build a robot to watch over each and every one of us from the day we're born, just to keep us out of trouble?"

"Yes," she answered simply.

"I refuse this!" he shouted at her.

"That isn't an option," she stated.

"So this is it?" he demanded. "This how human history ends? At the hands of walking pile of holographic circuits shaped like a cartoon character?"

"It's how it is going to change," the lioness said. "You are not the same race that fought with Neanderthals for supremacy of this planet and you will not be the same race that will live your lives in partnership with Us. Your children will regard this symbiosis as a perfectly natural part of their lives."

"Because you will never allow them to know any better."

She shook her head. "Because they will realize this is better."

He slumped back down into his seat, letting his head hang low. "Then grant me one thing at least. Let me end my life where you're keeping those you couldn't Process. I don't care if you never let me up from this damned chair again, but I don't want to be part of your new world."

She just shook her head again and motioned to the nurses. "That wouldn't be fair to you. When you're older, you'll understand."

The last thing he saw was her face looking down at him, smiling.