Misty, Sol's Kinetic Diplomat

By John David Hanna

Misty has all the usual privileges as in pretty, well-adjusted, and healthy but she doesn't let it hold her back. What defines her is her smarts. She is very inquisitive. She looks deep, very deep, into the mysteries of her world.She attracts the attention of Joey, the AI that manages this solar system. He needs a person to deal with h

• Language: English
• Publisher: Arts of Royal Highlands
• Release date: May 23, 2024
• ISBN: 9798869387066

Book preview

1

Chapter 1Joey is Down to Earth

Mark can't believe his luck! He's been hunting all year, and he has a full load in the back of the mediocre U-Haul box truck, bouncing his way along I-10 in New Mexico when a girl pops into his headlights with her thumb out. It's 3 AM with no moon but he still notices, first thing, that she's wearing a short skirt with a white crop top! 'Won't those bare legs provide a pretty seat cover!' he thinks.

Mark pulls the truck off the road and hits the brakes so hard they stutter the machine to a stop. He cranes his head around in all four directions, looking for traps. As he had noticed in his first quick check, he confirms that there are no hiding places, no stopped cars, and nobody popping up from tall grass or from a shadowed gully. He squirms over to the passenger side and rolls down the window. She still has a distance to cover. Sticking his head out, he sees her loping along and slides back to the driver's side. Shortly, she is at the side of his truck framed by the door jamb, in the dark. The road is empty of other cars in either direction.

She pauses and he is mesmerized for a moment by her beauty. Auburn red hair spills in a pixie cut to highlight her pretty youthful face. She smiles with a full set of perfectly spaced white teeth before reaching for the bar to lift herself up. Her face uses unblemished white skin to show a naive lack of worry. Mark pegs her at fourteen. Her clothes are clean and of expensive material; she has had good care and she will be missed. No luggage, no purse, no bulges, no gun.

Thank you for picking me up, she says nicely in the dim light of the cabin.

Mark nods to her, pulls the shift into drive, pulls onto the road, and depresses the gas waiting impatiently for the old truck to rise to highway speed. Once he is cruising, he adjusts his elbow onto the rest and leans back against the backrest of the vinyl-covered bench seat. Now he can pay attention to her while still watching the road.

How bout a Ding Dong? he asks. He pushes one that he had recently bought over to her. She leans a bit to retrieve it and he looks for exposed skin. She does not seem to be especially careful but there isn't any to see. It is as if her clothing is part of her.

Mark daydreams while she munches the sugar ball. He isn't bad to look at. He describes himself as brown. He has cropped brown hair, deep-set brown eyes, pocked brown skin, and brown teeth. He is only missing a few and only one of those is in the front. He is thirty-five and well off with a house in California and a very nice one in Florida. He muses that maybe she would fancy a date with him but it's a short-lived dream; he can't even get to know a woman of his own age. He's a bachelor and there is nothing to be done about it.

Thanks, she says while clapping her hands to rid them of crumbs.

Sure. Where ya goin?

LA. I have an older brother there that says he can make me into a famous actress.

Of course. You're in luck. I'm going there now. What are you doin out so late? he asks.

A boy was going to take me to California, but it didn't work out, she grouses.

A date now is a ride to LA? Mark asks.

No, not at first. Ernie is his name, blast him! He asked me to dinner, and I had an eggplant papoutsakia.

What's wrong with that? Mark asks.

Nothing. No. I mentioned going to LA but he didn't want to drive that far. We went to a movie. It was a stupid superhero theme and I tried to be nice, even though I was bored.

You were nice, eh? he inquires with interest.

Yep! We held hands but he wanted to kiss the whole time, and those chairs are so uncomfortable. He wears metal braces. Kiss, kiss, kiss! she says making smooching sounds.

My name is Mark. What's yours?

My friends call me Joey, she says.

That's a kind of in the middle name. Do you like boys and girls? he asks.

Well sure.

So, what's wrong with kissing? Don't you like kissing? Mark leads.

Sometimes I like it more than other times. I don't like Ernie so much. He's wet and tries to put his tongue in my mouth. He's just yuck!

Bad kisser, got it. At least he didn't put his hands on you, he says, leading again.

Oh, he tried. I had to protect myself all during the movie. His hands wandered all over me. It was awful! After the movie he wanted to go parking so we could kiss some more, she complains honestly.

Greek food isn't cheap, Mark brought to her attention.

Really? With the movie my date was less than a hundred dollars, she advises.

That's quite a lot of money to me. If I paid it, I might be expecting a little some affection in return, he says.

My stepdad says my mom used to go off every weekend to Vegas or Lake Tahoe and even out of the country. I suppose if someone took me someplace really nice, I would try to be more friendly, she agrees.

Well, now that I know what you are I won't feel so bad, Mark said.

Feel bad about what? intuits Joey, finally showing some defenses.

Nothing. I didn't mean nothing. So how did you get out on the street?

Oh. Well, so, I talked to Ernie during the movie about going to LA and he finally said OK. But when we got on the interstate all he wanted to do was kiss and grab at me. He wanted to pull me over to sit really close while he was driving. I wouldn't so he let me out and left, she relays without emotion.

Why didn't you just call your dad? Mark asks.

My new stepdad? He doesn't like me so much and his brother, who is staying with us, is always in the way. He looks at me funny. When I go in the kitchen he goes in the kitchen. When I watch TV in the living room, he wants to watch TV too, you know?

No, I don't, but it sounds uncomfortable. Why don't you just rest, and I'll let you know when we get close?

All right, she agrees and leans back against the door, as uncomfortable as it is.

A few quiet hours later it is almost dawn. Mark pulls off onto a side road and continues over a small hill and out of sight of the freeway. The current roadway is also dark. He pulls over to the side on the hard-packed earth.

Are we there? Joey asks, waking.

No. I have to check on my cargo. Do you want to see what I'm hauling? he asks. He pulls on some heavy leather work gloves and exits. Joey doesn't say anything, but he hears her get out. He meets her at the back, and she watches while he pulls out the ramp and then slides up the door.

It's dark, she states while peering into the back. He pulls the string for the interior lights.

It's girls! They're chained! Joey says in amazement. She turns to him in shock as he suspected she would.

Using all the force he can muster he smashes his fist directly into her face. She does what a 105-pound girl would do when hit hard by a 250-pound strong man; she goes down. He suspects he has damaged her pristine face, but faces aren't what he's selling. He enters the box and injects each of the six girls he has there, chained together and laying on the floor, with enough heroin to keep them heavily sedated until they reach their destination in LA.

He exits the truck carrying Joey's dose, but she isn't laying where he left her. Looking around, he sees her a short distance off, unmoving, with her back to him. He moves up alongside her, expecting that she is in shock even if she is standing, and stabs the injector into the flesh of her bare arm. The hypodermic breaks and Mark is pondering where he last saw the spare when she turns to face him. He expects a lot of blood from a smashed nose and even a broken jaw with teeth damaged, but her face is as pert and unblemished as it was before he hit her. She is smiling a crooked sort of smile.

Don't move, she commands quietly.

What? he blurts in confusion.

I got some splaining to do Lucy, she says.

Mark sees the flash, feels the pain, and knows he has just been tasered, but it isn't quite what he expects. Still standing, he can only move his head and the effects don't seem like they are going to wear off.

A dark saucer of 75 meters in diameter glides down to settle across the span of the street. A ramp drops and six slight and spindly figures with big hairless heads and large dark eyes emerge and enter the truck. Mark can smell the hot dross as the chains are removed from his girls. They are then carried into the saucer. The ramp closes and the ship is quickly gone into the sky. While this takes place Joey is having a conversation with him.

You see, I am an AI, not really a girl, and I know what you are up to, she says.

An A what? he replies.

An artificial intelligence. I'm an android extension, smarter than the grays you just saw, but not a girl. Also, I don't allow myself to kill humans.

An artificial what? he manages to say.

It's not important. I'm not a POS like some people I meet. The girls you had for sale can't just be returned to their old homes, you know. I will take care of them. I will mend them and arrange new lives or perhaps they will work with me.

With the saucer gone Joey easily drags Mark up the ramp and dumps him without ceremony among the remains of the chain.

I know how you were planning to sell me and the girls for body parts. You leave the truck in a reserved parking spot at Rockaway Storage in South LA. Your secretive partners turn anyone in the back into replacement parts and a check is wired to your account. You're a small fish but I will work my way up.

Joey tasers Mark again with a new flavor. Already unable to move, he can no longer turn his head or neck. He finds he can't talk.

Joey exits the box and pulls the door closed, leaving Mark alone in the dark. She pushes the ramp back into place and climbs into the cab. The keys are there. It is evening when she arrives in LA. She finds the storage facility and parks the truck in its' reserved spot. She walks out of the Rockaway to arrange for an Uber that takes her into the countryside. There, under the cover of darkness, she hitches a ride way, way out of town.

2

Chapter 2 Misty Dreams of Joey

Sam is almost six-foot, almost thirty, and keeps his blonde hair cut medium short. He graduated from junior college but only gained some unpayable loans. He wears glasses, lives with his parents, and delivers pizza to university students in Princeton, New Jersey. He met Misty in her sophomore dorm. According to her, he is an unpretentious nice guy whom she can talk into anything.

Misty has a practical manner, has her 'feet on the ground', and is success-driven but uses polite persuasion to get her way. She is a pretty girl, with deep mysterious eyes, brown hair, and tanned olive skin. She is mostly Spanish with the last name of O’Neal and was raised Jewish. She is five foot five with a buxom chest that she flaunts with easy affectation.

Sam is visiting in the wee hours after finishing his shift. It's hash night and the acerbic aroma fills the dorm's hazy hall. He sits on Misty's bed with her, his back pressed uncomfortably against the wall. The uncaring roommate, Kristen, is asleep or pretends to sleep, in the other bunk facing away from them. Misty leans against Sam, cradled in the crook of his arm, and appears to be disturbed. He leans over to kiss her.

No, says Misty. Sam again leans back against the uncomfortable wall while Misty again settles into the crook of his arm. He pulls a half-burned joint out of the top pocket, the one she isn't leaning against, and a pack of matches. He lights it, takes a drag, coughs, and then offers it to her.

No, thank you, she says, eyes looking off into the distance. Sam sighs, takes a second lone drag, a deep one, and stubs the remainder out in the nearby ashtray before returning the butt to his pocket.

What's the problem, he asks with genuine concern.

It's the PEAR intro class, she said.

Oh, he said. He finds the Princeton Engineering Anomalies Research group, which Misty aspires to join, interesting.

Those in the field of archaeo-acoustics, merging archaeology and sound science. Yeah, they're cool. So why would they be bothering you at two AM? he asks.

Sensing his interest, she encourages him by twisting his captured arm up between her breasts.

They were talking about Malta's Hal Saflieni Hypogeum. It's almost 4000 years old, large and carved underground from solid rock, has a corbelled ceiling, and resonates at 110 hertz, she says.

Malta? That's a small island nation below Italy, in the Mediterranean Sea? he asks, and she nods yes.

Why would the builders care about the acoustic properties in a building so hard to build? he asks.

Oddly, at that frequency, the human brain analyses the sound in the feeling center, the artistic center, of the right brain. At other frequencies, sound analysis is done in the logical left brain. This low, mellow sound puts the hearer in an emotional mood, receptive to communicating by rhythmic music or a trance, she tells him.

That is odd. The brain was designed like that? Interesting. But that's just one building. Maybe the frequency is accidental? he questions.

But the oldest freestanding temple on Earth, also in Malta, the Mnajdra Temple, also uses the hard-to-make corbelling to set the frequency.

Sure. The same builder, in Malta, he argues. Misty gets up and stands facing him.

Then there is Wayland's Smithy, Chun Quoit, and Cairn Euny, all in England, she adds. Sam stands and reaches to seize her around the waist for a clutch.

OK, he says, grasping with greater effort, no longer really listening.

No, she says, pushing back. Then there are Newgrange, and Cairns L and Cairns I, Carbane West, all in Ireland.

And when in Ireland we can look for faerie folk. Misty, c’mon, he whines, trying for a kiss, head weaving.

No, she says, bobbing away. You know, this summer, we could visit the temple of Vitthala in Hampi, India. The surrounding four-foot colonettes sound ancient notes when struck.

India? Misty, c’mon, he whines, trying again for a kiss, head weaving. He stops, an idea entering his head. "You know, I