Predator Press
[LOBO]
The days following the "Upstart" debacle were pretty crazy. I had to submit the sixteen page final essay for one, and it was already about six semesters overdue. The problem was that it was a paper based on activities in the student organizations, and invariably I somehow kept getting re-elected.
This college had a strange, quirky electoral process that inexplicably elected it's
media people too. Not the reporters and so forth, but the Chairperson -me, at the moment- and this person was responsible for hiring a "Board of Directors". And
The Board collectively hired the reporters, and so on. Very bureaucratic and boring. But the
real trick was that the Chairperson was also a voting member of the Student Senate. As far as power and influence could go in the academic setting, I suppose I was doing pretty well.
Now as I mentioned, it was only days after the "circus", and it also happened to be Finals Week. The
last finals week too, prior to graduation. And in true form, I had procrastinated virtually all of my really tough "core" classes until now.
So I'm studying for four hardcore finals which were all taking place over the next two days. Plus, I'm in the Honors Society and needed at least all "B"s to maintain that distinction. Plus I'm in the Senate, so I gotta write and give speeches. Plus I'm managing the school video program, newspaper, magazine, and radio programs.
Plus I had to hand over all this crap to the newly-elected incoming administration, and get them prepared to take over. (Having never taken a single journalist class --let alone management and record-keeping training-- my desk was eight inches deep in paperwork.) Oh, and I also had a regular job as well.
I'm not trying to exaggerate: I was surrounded with a
lot of very talented people, and a lot of this stuff was running on auto-pilot. But I had, in fact, achieved complete critical mass.
My entire day was carefully spelled out: meetings, meetings, meetings, punctuated violently by an Algebra exam I was having a lot of trouble with. But I had studied hard, and was pretty confident with the "B" --maybe even an "A" if I got through the sleep-deprived fog well enough. I got on campus that morning with my head swimming in numbers and letters.
Don't Walk signs read "D" times "O" times "N" ... in regard to the test, I was
In The Zone so to speak, and as well-prepared as I would ever be.
I got to the floor of my office about fifteen minutes before my battery of meetings was to begin, and was surprised to find it bustling with activity. We had scheduled all publications to have finished a few weeks earlier so the students could actually
study this week. Even the final newspaper was already in the can: we planned to publish a quasi "Year in Review/Best Of" issue that required simple layout retooling. With the exception of maybe the layout editors, this whole floor should have been a ghost town.
I tried to sneak into my office, but Esther spotted me. Grabbing a pile of mail, she followed. And another woman I'd never met followed
her.
They found me sitting, elbows on piles of paperwork on my desk, rubbing my eyes and temples alternately. I hadn't slept in days, and couldn't remember the last time I ate. It was then I first noticed a bunch of flowers, trays of homemade-looking pastries and dishes, colorful fruit baskets and so forth, sprawled randomly across the desk.
I glanced up at Esther, indicating the packages. "What's all
this?" I asked.
"I don't know." She says, tossing the mail in front of me. "I'm not your fucking secretary."
So I look at the new pile of mail. "Okay, then. What's this
Princess?"
Now Esther is my Comptroller -whatever the Hell
that is- and presumably going to carry on under the incoming administration. She's talented, she's tough, she's brilliant, and she's fully-augmented with these great big awesome accounting-whiz number-crunching boobs. "It's mail on that stupid
Upstart thing."
"Is it good or bad?"
She pauses for a second. "Well, I guess it's about fifty-fifty."
I leaned back in my chair. "Perfect."
"How the fuck am I supposed to run a creditable newspaper when the Board Chairman is constantly
in it?" She demanded.
"Look, you said yourself the mail was fifty-fifty. I've effectively cancelled it all out."
And the poor girl just stared at me like
I was a moron. "I'm going to try to get Melody to
publish these you know."
I shrugged. "It's your call. Really. I'm graduating. Do your worst."
Esther visibly softened up a little as she left. She was definitely pissed -and perhaps justly so- but she wasn't really that mean-spirited. And the bottom line was that in a year I had
tripled our circulation. The whole damn Student Organization -Senate, Media,
everything was reorganized and re-vitalized. They went from zero participation to having to turn
away people. It was a hard-fought year fraught with legendary silliness for sure, but I felt I was leaving the whole thing a
lot better off than it was when I got it.
I looked to the other woman who had remained silent during the confrontation, stood and smiled, offering my hand. "Hi, I'm David. Can I help you?"
"Pleased to meet you," she replied. "I'm Dana."
There was an awkward silence.
"Your ten o'clock," she added.
I nodded.
Another awkward silence. She sighed. "I'm the incumbent Student Media Board Chair. I'm relieving you after this semester."
***
I don't know how I imagined this moment before. I think I was leaning towards either burning the whole building down or maybe distracting The Incumbent momentarily as I threw the keys and bolted for the door.
But it turned out that I genuinely
liked Dana. She was a sharp firebrand redhead, and already looking for trouble. We spent about three hours on a cursory tour, discussing the operational nuts and bolts of the organization: office locations, where the files are, keys, et cetera.
Finally she has to go to class, and I get a quiet moment.
I slip into my office and turn off the lights so no one thinks I'm there. It's a great trick, because right behind my desk is a huge picture window that offers plenty of light anyway.
I notice that one of the packages is obviously a tray of brownies, and my stomach growls. Like I said earlier, who
knows when I ate last.
Suddenly I notice I'm
hungry.
All the packages have "Congrats!" and "Thank You!" on them, and the "From" parts are either hand-scrawled names or printed company logos I don't recognize. I wolfed down some brownies as I examined them. One package was a bowl of mushrooms, and I thought.
Gee, I really shouldn't fill up on just brownies, and began popping mushrooms like M&Ms.
And speaking of M&Ms, behold! Here's a whole bowl of them. Odd that they're all purple. But I get M&Ms that are accidentally printed with Es, Ws, and 3s all the
time. Maybe it's a
contest or something.
I didn't even suspect the white powder that was obviously a poorly-manufactured fragrance of some kind. But when I saw the colorful basket full of arranged hypodermic needles, I began to suspect that there was something afoot.
So I tested the hypo on the six-foot cactus that had suddenly sprung up in my office.
No effect on the cactus.
This puzzled me.
And that's how I met Sapphire.
***
"LOBO" says the guy.
"What?" I yawned, a little disoriented.
"The Robot Dinosaur Overlord has commanded your presence."
"Now?"
"Yes. Behold! You are now aboard a legendary warship feared throughout the universe --fully equipped with charged ion galactic detonators-- flying at approximately eleven times the speed of light. Cubed."
"That sounds pretty fast. Do you guys name your ships too?"
"Yes. We call her
Daisy Mae."
"Does she have a gift shop?" I asked.
"Promenade Deck."
***
Well, call me crazy, but wearing the sneakers, jeans and rumpled T-Shirt of a college student probably isn't the
best way to dress when meeting The Robot Dinosaur Overlord. At the gift shop, I found a kewl leather outfit and a cape. I almost bought one of those cute little perpetual motion machines as a souvenier, but the cashier warned me that the civilization that honored the warrantee on it had been extinct for millions of years.
So now I'm all decked, and we're speeding towards The Leading Edge of the Center of the Universe: secret lair of the Space Dinosaur Overlord. We intercept the mother ship, and I'm escorted into a vast, dark room, and left alone in silence.
Then, seemingly from out of nowhere, the room explodes into fiery life.
"MAXIMILLAIN HECTORUS DEXALLIUM!" a booming voice demanded over the giant screen. By the firelight slipping through it's huge jaws, I saw the impossibly gigantic lizard-like form coiled in the center of a vast room.
A dragon. A goddamn bona-fide football-field length, fire-breathing, leathery-winged
dragon.
"MAXIMILLAIN HECTORUS DEXALLIUM!" it repeated as the camera closed. "YOU HAVE BEEN FOUND GUILTY OF TREASON AGAINST THE GALACTIC DINOSAUR EMPIRE, AND ARE HEREBY SENTENCED TO DEATH BY FIRE."
"Maximillian
who?" I asked.
"MAXIMILLAIN HECTORUS DEXALLIUM!" he roared. Then he paused. "YOU
ARE MAXIMILLAIN HECTORUS DEXALLIUM,
AREN'T YOU?"
"Never heard of him."
"GODDAMN IT ERIC!" he roared over his shoulder. "WOULD YOU PLEASE DOUBLE CHECK MY ITINERARRY
BEFORE YOU GIVE IT TO ME?"
"Sorry there Big-O," a disembodied voice replied in the background. "Eric is on maternity leave ... his ol lady laid like six thousand eggs last night. I'm actually the guy in charge of brimstone."
The dragon looked at me, shrugging and completely exasperated. "OKAY. SO WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU?"
"I'm LOBO sir."
The background voice piped up again. "Say's here LOBO is your two o'clock."
The dragon exhaled into the sky, rolling his eyes. "ALRIGHT EVERYBODY ... TURN THE LIGHTS ON. AND MAKE SURE THE ACID BATH IS READY FOR MY TWO FIFTEEN."
I shielded my eyes from the sudden lighting.
"I'M HERE TO INFORM YOU THAT, REGARDING THE GALACTIC DINOSAUR EMPIRE, YOU ARE BEING RELIEVED OF YOUR DUTIES.
"You're relieving me of my duties?" I asked, puzzled. "I'm actually pretty good at relieving
myself of my duties." I pause. "What duties did I have, anyway?"
The dragon grimaced. "LOOK SON," the dragon put his claw around my shoulders as we walked, "AFTER THE GREAT
STEVE LOVES AMANDA WARS ENDED, I'VE BEEN PRESSURED BY ALL THOSE HIPPIE, LIBERAL-MINDED VEGETARIAN BRONTOSAURS ABOUT DOWNSIZING OUR MILITARY." He sighed. "YOUR SERVICES ARE NO LONGER REQUIRED."
"But just what exactly
were my services to the Galactic Dinosaur Emp--?"
"WE'VE ELIMINATED YOUR POSITION." the dragon interrupted.
"So I'm being fired?"
"LOOK, THE FACT IS THAT THE CREATIONISTS ARE EXCEEDING OUR WILDEST EXPECTATIONS. WHILE YOU HAVE BEEN EXEMPLARY AND LOYAL MAKING CONTRIBUTIONS VITAL TO THE GLORIOUS EMPIRE, WE'RE CHANGING HORSES."
"Hey!" I replied dejected, staring at my boots. "I don't know who these 'Creationists' are, but I'm sure once you tell me what my duties
are, I can--"
"IT'S OVER SON," replied the dragon, shaking his enormous head. "BUT WE
DO CONSIDER YOUR CONTRIBUTIONS EXEMPLARY, AS I SAID. I AM HERE TO REWARD YOU FOR YOUR SERVICES."
"With fire, right?"
"NO. ACTUALLY IT'S A WATCH." he paused chuckling. "JUST KIDDING. IT'S IN HERE."
***
The beautiful woman lie motionless on the center of the room. I was
dazzled.
The dragon put on a lab coat as he explained. "WE HAVE STUDIED THE PEA BRAINS AND FEEBLE DNA OF HUMANS QUITE EXTENSIVELY, AND HAVE DECIDED TO SPARE YOUR POOR BACKWATER CIVILIZATION FOR NOW; A BIG FULL-SCALE EXPENSIVE INVASION DOESN'T SEEM WARRANTED ON A CIVILIZATION THAT HAS ONLY RECENTLY DISCOVERED RUDIMENTARY
SCRABBLE. BUT WE
HAVE DESIGNED THE LAMBDA-CLASS R1000." He threw a switch, and the woman opened her eyes. "THIS ONE IS PROGRAMMED TO MATCH YOUR EXACT PSYCHOLOGICAL PROFILE AND PHYSICAL TASTES. HER DESIGNATION IS
SAPPHIRE.
Sapphire sat up, blinking. She looked at me and smiled. "Have I told you how handsome you are lately LOBO?" She inquired.
I looked at the dragon, eyebrows furrowed.
The dragon sighed as he unfolded the instructions, and read them through a big thick magnifying glass the size of a bus.
"
'CONGRATULATIONS ON YOUR RECENT INVENTION OF THE LAMBDA-CLASS R1000. SHE IS ATTRACTIVE, OBEDIENT, INTELLIGENT AND HARD WORKING, AND WILL CATER TO YOUR EVERY WHIM BY PREFORMING ANY AND ALL ACTS YOU DESIRE.'"
The dragon paused. "WE'VE EVEN GOT A JINGLE ALREADY". He swung his paws as he danced a little, singing tunelessly "
NEVER AGES, GAINS WEIGHT OR MEN-STRU-ATES ..."
"Well, what if I want kids?"
Tracing the instructions with a massive claw, the dragon skimmed the paragraphs. "LET'S SEE ...
'COMPLETELY INDESTRUCTABLE' ... 'STATE-OF-THE-ARTS LETHAL DEFENSIVE SYSTEMS' ... YADDA YADDA YADDA ... OH
HERE IT IS.
'THE LAMBDA-CLASS R1000 IS FULLY CAPABLE OF BEARING AND RAISING CHILDREN, AND IN FACT HAS AN IMPROVED GESTATION PERIOD OF ONLY THREE MONTHS, AS WILL HER OFFSPRING.'"
I began counting on my fingers, but Sapphire interrupted. "David, at full capacity within thirty-four years our brood will have multiplied with the human race exponentially: roughly 27.8% of the Earth's population would be our progeny."
I whistled. "But that's like a lot of kids that all have to be put through college. And Christ Thanksgiving would be a nightmare. What if I
don't want kids?"
The dragon peered down through the glass. "SAYS HERE THERE'S A SWITCH."
"This is crazy." I said. "What if she gets pissed off and tries to
gooify me or something?"
Sapphire giggled, twirling a lock of my hair in her fingers. "My programming will not allow me to be angry with
you, sexy."
"Well, while I'm impressed with your visual clarity, what if I leave the toilet seat up?"
"Then the toilet seat in exactly where you prefer it, as reflected in my programming," she whispered into my ear.
"Okay," I replied, thinking hard. "What if I come home late, drunk and surly after a confrontation with your mother over how she hoped you would marry some suave, rich space entrepreneur robot doctor instead?"
"Then I would do the dishes while reciting any of the complete works of Louis L'Amour that I have memorized for your amusement, you hot stud."
I continued to be impressed by her visual acuity --and she definitely had the right breasts for reading Louis L'Amour books-- but that was a
trick question. "I don't wash dishes, I just buy new ones."
"I guess we could just get our freak on."
"Let's hit it" I said.
***
You know, I am The
Man.
Fifteen minutes in space, and I'm sporting a cool new leather outfit, speeding back to Earth with a hot, scantily clad robot space chick giving me a massage, and poised for complete and total global domination. By
sex.
Gimmee my props.
But then Sapphire piped in. "David I need to tell you about my upkeep."
"Jesus Christ! Nag, nag,
nag! Can't we just enjoy a nice quiet moment without you complaining about something?"
"Every six years you need to change my AAA battery--"
"Hold it right there, sister. You never told me you were going to be so
needy. I haven't changed.
You've changed. I'm just not ready for this kind of commitment!"
"But LOBO .."
"Shhh!" I put a finger over her lips. "Baby look, we're just too different. I'm sorry. I love you, but I'm not
in love with you. It's not you, it's me. I just can't deal with your relentless mother anymore. I think we should
both start seeing other species." I turned to the crew on the bridge. "About face. Turn this bucket around ... we have to take 'Little Miss
Needy' here back to the mother ship."
The crew of the
Daisy Mae looked at each other in confusion. "Uh, Sir," one finally piped. "Nobody has ever asked us to
do that before. We're supposed to sit hear and look busy pushing buttons. This ship is on auto pilot."
Then I noticed Sapphire was crying.
"Honey, I imagine this to be an intensely painful experience for you. And I'm a really sensitive,
sensitive guy." I took her hand. "That's what makes jettisoning you out of the airlock such a painful thing to do."
***
FOOM! Sapphire shot into the void. Then, suddenly, the ship lurched. Hard.
"What's going on?" I demanded.
"Sir!" a crew guy replied. "We've figured out how to disengage the auto-pilot and turn around!"
"Good" I replied, pressed against the wall from the inertia. "Then we can drop off Sapphire back on the Mother Sh--"
Sapphire clanged noisily off of the ship's nose, and then was sucked violently into the starboard engine.
"Um," I replied. "Just forget it."
***
I woke up in my office.
Because my pants were on fire.
Somehow, a photograph of the inside of my pocket was inserted into my pocket, and it smoldered painfully. I procured it, and stomped it out on the floor.
It was ten at night.
And while I had completely missed the algebra exam, I would soon discover that I had accidentally wandered in on a Calculus class and got an A+ doing
their entire exam on the blackboard in fourteen seconds.
Without pants.
Pictures of it would be in the school paper.
But I stood in the darkness of the quiet abandoned campus looking out my enormous picture window. Wistfully gazing out at the beautiful cloudless sky, the stars glowed their infinite presence like gems. And one fell, burning a silent blue arc across the sky.
And I remember thinking one thing:
Sapphire.
Predator Press
"Oooh, goodie!" I says. "The part where the waffle iron spawns a second head?"
A tiny plastic model airplane –also on fishing line— starts randomly spinning in a downward trajectory by the picture window.
“There he is!”, exclaims LBSCC#1, pointing at the hero on a motorcycle. “He’ll stop you, you evil radioactive space waffle iron!” As she crosses off-screen, the click click click of her heels diminish audibly from the plastic microphone.
