Ambassadors

© Copyright 2005 by silli_artie@hotmail.com

This work may not be reposted or redistributed without the prior express written permission of the author.

A work of fiction, meant for adults. Read something else if you are not an adult, or are offended by stories with sexual content. Then again, if all you’re looking for is in-out, in-out, in-out, you should probably read something else. I welcome constructive comments. Enjoy.

Study hall and I was studying, as usual. Sarah was sitting next to me. She poked me and handed me a note under the table.

I accepted it, but took my time opening and reading it. Not that I was afraid of the banshees (sorry, “professional staff”) patrolling the library, but I did have work to do.

Her note read, “K is weird!”

I glanced to Sarah and frowned. “K” referred to Kathy S, who lived in the adjoining quad, and happened to be sitting at the other corner of our table. Saying she was weird, well, Professor M, one of my tutors, would call that statement, “axiomatic, a tautology.” It’s like saying Peter is gross, or Shelly has big tits. Self-fucking-evident. I kicked the note back.

But it returned, with “No, really!” added.

I gave her a harsher frown, kicked it back, again, and went back to work.

Well, I glanced to the recently arrived and still mysterious Kathy S. Short black hair with reddish streaks, somewhat pale but clear complexion, cute nose and chin. Nice figure, too; she’d be high on my list of snuggle candidates if it weren’t for her personality -- so far either very aloof or very abrasive, but hey, she’s only been here a few days. It takes some kids months to get that way. Oh, being in our floor, our school, meant she was smart and hard-working. No doubts about that.

The note came back, again. I contemplated tossing it back unread, but I was in need of evening companionship, and hoped Sarah was as well. I opened it.

“Watch close - she NEVER blinks!”

A questioning glance to Sarah and a nod. I wrote, “Interesting -- talk more, tonight?” and passed it back.

She read it, grinned, and lifted one of her breasts slightly, offering, I hoped...

I sighed and smiled. She smirked and went back to her reading.

Nominally, so did I, except I now watched K carefully if surreptitiously. She was reading, taking notes. And as long as I watched, I didn’t see her blink!

Interesting shit, blinking... Like breathing, autonomic and automatic until you think about it, then it goes to hell. A quick Google says it’s old amphibian brain stem stuff, nominally ten to twenty times per minute for people, increases with stress, arousal, screwed up by certain pathologies, drugs. Watched K again for three, maybe four minutes, and she didn’t blink!

The seat next to her was empty, then Shelly. I watched her, cautiously, for a couple of minutes. Hah -- she’d be the last one to expect a male, especially me, to watch her eyes. Timing -- bring up the clock widget on my laptop so I can see the sweep second hand while I also observe the delectable delicious (that stands for double-D) Shelly. Okay, 17 blinks the first minute and 16 or so the second minute. At the other end of the table is Ralph. 14 and 16, plus he picked his nose and ate it. Peter would probably have offered it to the person sitting next to him, or at least held it out in front of him for a public examination prior to recycling. K again, zero in three minutes! Weird! Yeah, blink rates decrease with use of computer monitors, and with certain pharmaceuticals. But zero? Hey, I held off my blinking for three minutes -- I think. Might have blinked once or twice and not realized it.

But I have work to do.

K took off before Sarah and I did. When I gathered my shit to leave, Sarah did as well. As we left the library, she whispered up close, “Is that weird, or what?”

“Yup, it is. Anything else?” I asked.

“Yeah, like watch her when she eats,” she whispered.

“A prehensile tongue?”

Sarah chortled as we walked down the hall. She also put an arm around my waist, which I took as a good omen for later.

“Nah -- watch if she picks something up in her hands, like corn on the cob, stuff like that.”

“Okay. And what else?”

“She doesn’t do P.E.”

I put an arm around her waist. “Along with a third of the kids here.”

I had tutorial sessions before dinner and did okay -- didn’t pick up too much more work. I almost asked Prof. M about blinking, but figured he’d turn it into a research assignment if I did.

But I researched it anyway. Sometimes Google is your friend -- trolling for “not blinking” pulls up a whole lot of stuff on status lights. Figured there’s got to be a medical term for it, an-something or other.

Managed to get in a short run and a shower before dinner.

Sigh. Guess this is a good point to back up a bit. I’m David, David P in school terms. And “School” is a famous/infamous “Elite Residential Prep School” in the flatlands of the States somewhere between Chicago and the Rockies, servicing grades 9 through 12. I’m a Junior, grade 11. Next year I’ll be a Senior, top of the heap, and the following year I’ll be at the bottom of the heap, at Princeton or Stanford. Even though I’ve been accepted to both schools, I work hard. I owe it to ... well, a lot of people. I started here with grade 9. So did Sarah -- we’ve been close friends from the start, and grown a lot together. Yeah, take that any way you want.

Traditionally, a University is a collection of more specialized Colleges. So it is with out prep school; we’re subdivided into different groups, color coded, more or less on a building - geographical basis. We’re the blue group. Our building is co-ed floor by floor, stratified more or less by age, with the older kids on the upper floors. I almost said older kids on top, but that would give you the wrong idea... Ralph is a junior and spends a lot of time with a senior gal; I think they take turns as to who’s on top. Each school sets their own rules. For us, our age, we’re expected to be adult in many respects.

Dinner is in our commons dining hall. We sit in quad groups. A quad is a quarter of a floor, six rooms. (We) blues have one building with one floor of seniors, two floors of juniors, and three for frosh. The grays fill two buildings each larger than ours; don’t know their grade distribution.

The mysterious K is in the adjacent quad, and the next table over at dinner. She was seated at one corner of her table; I sat at the corner of ours, across from her, and directly across from Peter.

Peter hadn’t bathed since school started, as anyone with a marginally working nose could tell.

“Are you waiting for the Solstice, or what?” I bugged him. He hadn’t been this bad last year; he bathed about once a week whether he needed it or not.

He muttered something at me in what sounded like Russian. Not one of my languages, but from him I’d bet it wasn’t nice. He hadn’t brushed his teeth recently, either.

Kathy got an offended look, and spat back at him in the same language, at length and with volume! Whatever it was, she gave it to him good, as he hung his head a bit, muttered something, then moved to the other end of the table!

“Thank you,” I told her with a smile.

She was still frowning, but managed a smile. “You’re welcome.”

Sarah sat down where Peter had been. I tried to engage Kathy in conversation, and Sarah helped. We made progress pulling her out of her shell. Or she was in a rare but pleasant mood, hard to tell.

School had been going on almost five weeks; she’d been here eight days. I hope the hell she’d gotten the same offers for help from folks in her quad as we made, to help her out and show her around, but I doubted it. Even though her table was full, only a couple of the folks in her quad joined in the conversation. But then there wasn’t much of a conversation at her table to start with. Some quads are like that, I guess.

And all the time I watched her, she didn’t blink. And her eyes didn’t look red or unusual. They were brown-green, I guess sort of hazel.

And I saw what Sarah meant about eating. Don’t remember what it was, but when Kathy picked it up, she held it a little in front of her, then moved her head in and at sort of an angle to bite at it, reminding me of a predator attacking prey, mouth opening as she approached.

The three of us walked back to our dorm together, taking our time, conversing. Kathy seemed to be unwinding.

“What can we help with?” I asked her. “What do you need?”

She sighed and shook her head, then grinned. “The library is great, but there’s nothing, like, interesting to read, and I haven’t figured out how to get past the net nannies.”

“They’ll drop some internet access restrictions on you after a month or so, sooner if you’re not hammering away trying to get around ‘em. As to the library, got your PDA?” I asked.

She pulled hers out of her purse as I got mine from a pocket. We all carry the things, with schedules, assignment lists, all the usual crap, and then some. I brought up a notepad entry on mine.

“Ready?” I asked.

Sarah held Kathy’s hand, pointing her PDA at mine. I blasted the entry to her on infrared.

Funny -- she moved back a bit, and started bringing her other hand to her face, but stopped and lowered it. She did it -- she blinked, twice, and it looked strange somehow, in the dim light of dusk. Then she peered at the illuminated screen of her PDA. “History of the War of the Roses?” she asked.

That was the title, and the catalog number. Sarah and I both nodded, smiling. “That’s what it says on the cover. Check it out -- you’ll find it interesting, I think. Not good, but interesting. And there’s more.”

She smiled as comprehension crept in. “Cool -- I’m gonna do that, now! See you tomorrow!” She turned around and headed to the school library.

“Open until ten,” Sarah called out to her, waving.

“That will be a good judge of character,” I told Sarah as we continued walking to our building.

“Yeah, especially if she says, ‘That sucked, where do I find more?’ right?”

“Yup. See, she seems pretty normal once she opens up.”

“Right -- like her eyes when she finally blinked? That was tres weird.”

“Was it?” I lied.

Sarah stopped in the middle of the path and sighed.

I stopped and faced her; I took her hands. “What’s the matter?”

“I need you tonight,” she said softly.

I nodded. “Your parents?” I knew they were going through a nasty divorce. An all-too-common topic of non-conversation at school. We’d talked about it a lot the first few days of school, how she’d spent a lot of the summer shuttling back and forth between warring camps. Talked about it, hell -- she’d unloaded a summer’s worth of parental abuse on me the first few days back. But I held her and let her unload. And we did spend a few days screwing our brains out. Funny thing, dorm liaisons -- because it’s a residential school, you have to be careful. There’s no place to go if you have a nasty breakup. I’ve been lucky, I guess. Sarah, Shelly, and I are like brothers and sisters, the supportive and incestuous kind. We watch out for each other. The whole quad is like that. Except for Peter, I guess.

Sarah nodded. “A nasty e-mail from mom, going on about absolute shit. She’s such a bitch some times, but I still love her! But the way she acts, it’s like I can’t love her and daddy at the same time... It’s her or him but not both and if I love one I must hate the other. I don’t know what to do...”

I put my arms around her. “I’ll hold you, and you’ll hold me. We’ll start there. Okay?”

I felt her nod, her head on my shoulder. “Just hold, okay?” she suggested.

I nodded. “You know what to do if I get amorous -- hold me and squeeze me and rock me to sleep in your arms...”

She managed a chuckle. “Yeah... I saw you watching Shelly this afternoon in the library...”

I stepped back a bit and gave her my best offended look. The ladies, at least in our quad, have me pegged -- get a nipple in my mouth and I’m helpless (and I love it). “I was watching her eyes, counting blink rates.”

She smirked and pushed her chest into mine. “Riiiight... No, really?”

I did another offended look, turning my head off to the side and with an overly melodramatic sniff and sigh, said, “Nobody believes me when I say I was looking in her eyes...”

She laughed out loud. “Okay, I believe you -- this time... What did you learn?”

I shrugged. “I observed Kathy, Shelly, and Ralph. Did some on-line research. Shelly and Ralph were both nominal blinkers, ten to twenty per minute, plus or minus a booger...”

“That had to be Ralph,” she said with disgust.

“Oh yeah -- ladies never pick their noses, or fart for that matter.”

“Not in public, anyway. What about Kathy?”

“Didn’t blink a lot,” I admitted.

“Weird,” she summed up.

“Yep. And what now?”

She smiled. “I’ve got about an hour of work to do, and then we’ll hold each other and I’ll rock you to sleep in my arms. And when I wake up in the morning, you’ll be holding me.”

Hugs work better than words answering things like that.

And in her bed later, I held her, and she held me. I know her parents are putting her through hell. I wished mine were still around...

Racks and Wrecks

While the evening meal is structured, at least if you want to eat, breakfast and lunch are more free-form.

I was sitting down for lunch eating a burger when Kathy came up and asked, “Join you?”

I nodded. “Sure.”

She sat next to me. She had a slice of pizza, some fruit, and a large soft drink. Same weird pattern -- pick up the pizza, hold it a bit from her mouth, move her head in closer and bite at it.

After a bit I broached the subject. “How was War of the Roses?”

I heard her chortle with a full mouth. When she could, she said conspiratorially, “Also known as The Harrad Experiment?”

“Good, you found it.”

“I don’t know how good. Guess it was wild for its time, but it feels dated. I was hoping for better.”

I was trying not to laugh out loud.

“What’s the matter?” she asked, sounding a bit upset.

“Nothing, sorry -- you passed the test with flying colors. The canonical response is, ‘Gee, that sucked -- where do I find more?’”

She actually laughed! And she looked good when she did, relaxing more than I’d seen her so far. We were in the big junior lecture classes together, and she usually looked pretty up-tight during those.

“Yeah, guess I passed, then.” She looked at her lunch and asked in a low voice, “So where do I find more?”

I smiled and munched a fry. “You know, there’s a family of metallic glasses that are formed by quenching molten materials really, really rapidly. They have very interesting tensile properties.”

She gave me a really, really strange look. Her eyes looked more deep brown today, hard to tell the boundary between iris and pupil.

“An off-the-beaten path section of the stacks containing technical reports, dissertations, and the like. There’s even a tech report Prof M and I wrote. A lot of it isn’t in the library catalogs, either. I’ll show you when we finish, if you have time. The first one to look up is “Tensile Strengths of Rapidly Quenched Metallic Glasses.”

She smiled and nodded, then her smile faded.

Calmly and coolly she asked, “Is there a price for this information?”

I sighed. I’m good looking, I know. A little short, at five foot eleven, with a Mediterranean complexion, short curly brown/black hair, and surprisingly blue eyes. Much better built than last year, thanks to a lot of hard work over the summer. I have an appreciation, and an eye for the female form. I believe in ladies first, and often. But I am not a letch.

I tried to let my expression convey part of my message. “Kathy, not from me there isn’t. I’ve offered to help, no strings attached. Ask Sarah or Sherry. That’s not the way I do things.”

She smiled again, nodding, and put her hand on mine. Her hand felt cool and nice. “David, I’m sorry. Forgive me?”

I nodded. “Of course. I understand; a lot of people play those games, but I don’t. I hope that my friends don’t either.” I offered the olive branch, and hopefully more, but that’s the way I am.

She smiled more. “That’s the way I am as well.”

We finished lunch and started to the library. As we walked, she started to say something, but shook her head and sighed.

“Questions? Problems?” I suggested. “If you don’t feel comfortable talking to me, this is the third year at school together for Sarah and me -- I trust her with anything. Same with Shelly; I’ve known her for a year and a half.”

She nodded. “Thanks. So many things I don’t understand around here. But what about this stuff in the stacks?”

I shook my head. “The fun stuff in the uncataloged area? We guess someone on staff is doing it. Bunch of us verified it’s coming off the Net. Someone prints off stories and sticks ‘em in that section. The one I mentioned is a story called ‘Dance of a Lifetime.’ One of my favorites is ‘Tales of the Golden Mule.’ There are a bunch of them by various authors, long stories, novels, collections of short stories, and better written that what you got last night.”

“That wouldn’t be hard,” she muttered.

I laughed. “We’ll show you the ones we’ve found, and expect you to do the same when you find more. We haven’t figured out the full pattern for how they’re organized, but we’ve located a bunch. Oh, we also keep it very quiet. Some people would shit large purple bricks if they found out their Future Leaders and Captains of Industry were exposed to such vulgar material. Never read ‘Frogs’ or ‘The Golden Ass’ I guess. Also why the library keeps records the way they do.”

She shook her head and chuckled. “Yeah -- that I understand.” She sighed and shook her head again. “I guess that’s part of the reason for no last names?”

We didn’t use last names, at least not as a rule. “Preserving or protecting privacy through anonymity is part of it. My last name is Patterson. You don’t have to tell me yours now, or ever, or how you got here, or why. Don’t have to tell anyone. Some of the profs are strict about it, some aren’t, but it’s probably a good idea to keep what privacy you can while you can.”

She nodded. “That I figured out. David, I really appreciate your candor, and your help.”

“Thanks. Some of us... Well, like a lot of places, you have givers and takers. I guess I haven’t learned yet; I’m still a giver.”

She surprised me. She said, with a lot of feeling, “I hope you’re saving some for yourself.”

“I hope so too.”

We meandered through the library, rather than making a bee-line to our target.

“Here we are,” I said conspiratorially, pulling out the report nominally on glasses and handing it to her. “And here’s one of my favorites, Simulation of Bose-Einstein Condensates, also known as The Golden Mule.” I handed her that one. “Mine is on that shelf,” I pointed, “on Grapevine, if you have trouble sleeping.”

“Wow, these look pretty good,” she said, flipping through the pages. Both were printed two-up on both sides of the page, so the print was kind of small. “Going to take a while to get through these...”

She scanned a few pages, then looked at me, smiling. Interesting eyes, colored contact lenses? That would explain why it’s hard to tell iris from pupil.

“We don’t have to like, check these out?” she asked.

“Nope.”

“But, ah, they know we’ve been here.” She raised her right hand and shook her ID bracelet. Everyone on campus, staff, faculty, students, visitors wore one.

I smiled. “Nope again, far as I know at least. When the so-called Patriot Act went through a number of years ago, librarians and privacy advocates across the country were up in arms. And this place was in the process of converting over to the bracelets, our own personal RF-ID tags.” I shook mine, pale blue, like hers. We wore them 24 by 7; they were sealed in place and couldn’t be removed. Well, they were plastic and you could cut them off, but you caught hell for it. “I guess there was a firestorm on privacy issues around here. They use the bracelets to track what building we’re in, and what floor. They deliberately do not track what dorm room you’re in, just what quad. And they don’t track where you are in the library. And when you check shit out, those records are only kept until you return the stuff, and then purged.”

She nodded, then said, “And you believe that?”

“You’re as smart as you are beautiful, Kathy,” I told her with a smile.

She smirked, but stood her ground.

“And you’re right not believing everything presented to you. Some of the faculty are pretty cool. One showed me the information they keep on us, and together we dug into the bracelet tracking system enough to conclude that it either wasn’t withholding information, or was hiding it so completely we didn’t have a chance of finding out. The library checkout system is open-sourced; they generate random transaction codes for each item checked out. So you have a record for a checked-out book, DVD, or whatever with a transaction code, but no cheap way, in terms of the computation required, to map that transaction code to who checked it out other than trawling through all users looking for one with that transaction code -- makes mapping who has what really expensive in terms of the computation required. Oh, for location tracking, one of our colleagues built some gadgets that let you know when you get near a bracelet reader, so we were able to map a lot of them, and confirm what we’d learned otherwise. I can get one for you if you’d like to puzzle things out, but you need to be very circumspect with it. That better?”

She had her arms crossed, holding the two “tech reports” to her chest. She nodded. “And you’re a lot smarter than you look. Thanks. I need to get back. I’ve got a tutorial later today.”

I nodded. “We’ll go out the direct route. Who and what, if I can pry?”

“Math/sci with Prof M,” she answered, interesting tones in her voice.

I chuckled. “Let me guess -- for one of the few times in your life, you’re being challenged in those subjects?”

“Oh yeah,” she sighed.

“He’s one of the best here, and really cool. Of the faculty I’ve dealt with, I trust him the most.” He’d shown me the tracking systems, challenged me to help him validate/verify them. He was my advisor, and helped a lot with my advanced comp sci project last year..

“Good to know,” she agreed.

“But he’s still faculty,” I added, cautioning.

She nodded and sighed.

I did my classes and got in another run. Most of the dorm buildings, at least in our side of school, have a rectangular cross-section. The floors are divided into four sections, quads. Two elevator cores near the ends, and a service core with stairs in the middle. When I go for a run, I go up the stairs to get back to our floor. I’m one of the folks that use the stairs most of the time; it’s an easy way to get a little more exercise. The stairway doors open to a hallway and a little vestibule between the quads; my room is right off that at the end of our quad, quick access. It’s also nice in that I don’t have occupied rooms on both sides of me. It can be a pain if someone is throwing a party there, though. The vestibule is set up with couches and low tables, a good quiet place to read or hang out.

And as I got there, panting from my run and the sprint up the stairs, Kathy was sitting on one of the couches looking out at the flat lack-of-landscape.

“David! I need some answers!” she called out, stopping me in my tracks. She sounded upset.

I flopped on the couch across from her. “Sure. Tutorial didn’t go well?”

She shook her head, frowning. She seemed to frown with her whole face. “Nah, that went fine.”

I was in damn good shape, thanks to the abuse I’d gone through during the summer. With winter approaching, I’d soon have to trade running outdoors for the indoor track, the pool, and the rowing machines. “What is it?” Almost had my breath back from sprinting up the stairs.

“Are we in a school or a fucking prison?” She shook her blue bracelet at me.

Uh oh... “Tell me...” I panted.

“After tutorial, I dropped off my stuff and went for a walk, thinking. Oh, he is cool -- and he gave me a lot to think about. I remembered some other buildings from when I arrived, and headed to that section.”

I nodded with a sinking feeling, guessing where this was going.

“And I’m walking along and come to this fucking fence, and not some little thing, either! Two and a half to three meters with razor wire on top, and sensory voodoo running through the middle! I follow it for a while, and out of nowhere this guy in a uniform appears! He’s like a security guard or something -- first one I’ve seen! He calls me by my name, and wants to know what I’m doing! I tell him I’m out for a walk, and he strongly suggests this isn’t a good place to visit, and politely but firmly escorts me back to the path to the library! What’s going on?”

I nodded. “We’re an ‘Elite Residential Prep School,’ right?”

“I’m not so sure,” she fumed.

“Well, think about it. There are a lot of reasons kids wind up here. Don’t know why you’re here and don’t want to know. I know why I’m here, and I more or less agree with it.” I shook my bracelet again. “How many different color variations of these have you seen?”

She looked to the side for a moment. Didn’t blink. “Powder blue for this building, a light grey for most kids in the big lectures and other areas. I guess blue/gold and grey/gold are faculty, blue/silver and grey/silver are staff, solid silver is library, solid gold is admin, and that charcoal one is security. That guy gave me the creeps!”

I nodded. “Really observant for less than two weeks here -- like I said, as smart as you are beautiful, but we knew that, because you’re here, with one of these.” I shook my bracelet again.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” she challenged.

I liked her attitude. “This is my analysis, not the official party line. There are a bunch of different schools or facilities sharing the same name. You’re spot on with colors. Gold is admin and faculty, seldom see just gold outside the admin building. Silver is staff, like library. Think there’s another color for medical professionals, nurses and doctors. Us, the blues, are the smart kids working hard and wanting to learn. Greys are party animals and politicos putting in their time. Oh, most of them are smart, they just don’t work as hard. We have some of the same classes, yeah, but us blues do a whole lot more work and get a lot more personal attention. The big lectures are all together, but discussion sections and tests are separate, right?” I waited for that to sink in.

“Okay, makes sense and answers a lot of questions about the greys. And we’re segregated by buildings, that makes sense too. I think white is medical. What about that fence, and the other buildings?”

“That part of the campus is for the yellows, pinks, and greens.”

“And those are?”

“My terms again, and conclusions -- green is reform school, yellow is drug/booze rehab, and pink is the psych ward.”

She let out a long sigh and looked out the window for a bit. After a bit she made a face and nodded slightly. “Makes a lot of sense. Yeah, you’d want solid physical security for those...”

“Ever see any of the promotional literature for this place?” I asked.

She shook her head, looking back to me.

“Not surprising, it’s not heavily advertised. But I’ve seen some, and you can get it if you go to the admin building, it’s sitting out. They make quite a few references to the very high ratio of faculty and staff to students here. What do you think of that?”

She frowned again. “Not from what I’ve experienced! Maybe in the lower grades? Oh!”

I saw the light come on, and nodded. “Yup, my conclusion as well. I bet yellows and pinks especially get a lot more attention than we do. I sure hope so.”

She nodded. “Do they ever cross?”

“Last year we met a kid who’d been a yellow the year before. His parents thought he had a big bad drug problem. He graduated from here last year, went to Stanford. Oh, and every so often a blue decides it’s too much work and goes over to the grays. Haven’t heard of anyone going the other way.”

Another big sigh from her.

“That much fun, huh?” Sarah said, coming into the area from our quad. She sat a few feet from me on the couch.

“She found the other end of the rainbow today,” I told her, holding up and shaking my blue ID bracelet.

“Oh, shit,” Sarah said with a sigh. “I think a lot of kids don’t have a clue. What happened?”

Kathy told her, “I found the fence, and was escorted back to the ‘safe’ part of campus by a security guard. David has been explaining the rest.”

“Tell her about Kenny?” Sarah asked.

I nodded, then looked to Kathy. “He’s the guy I mentioned -- yellow year before last, blue senior last year in this building, at Stanford last I heard. A lot of what we know he told us.”

“And we corroborated on our own,” Sarah added.

Kathy smirked and shook her head. “A real trusting group...”

Sarah slid closer to me and grabbed my hand. “Him I trust. We’re cautious, that’s all.”

“Thanks, sweetie. I owe you...” I told her.

Sarah laughed, then asked me, “Whistler?”

I shook my head. “Didn’t have the chance yet.”

Sarah nodded and turned to Kathy. “For a bunch of school breaks, like Thanksgiving and Winter break, a bunch of us go to Whistler, a ski area in Western Canada. If you’d like to go with, let one of us know in the next two weeks so we can get the ball rolling.”

Kathy asked flatly, “A school thing?”

“No,” I answered, “Just a small group of friends. Sam’s family has a place in Whistler. Oh, we have adult supervision, but it’s like eight of us with four adults in a really nice place. If you want to ski, snowboard, skate, toboggan, do outdoor winter stuff, you can do that, or you can hang out and drink hot chocolate in front of a fire all day, read, play cards, snooze...”

Her voice almost squeaked. “And you’re asking me?”

I looked at Sarah. We’d talked it over with the gang and decided to invite her. Turning to Kathy, I said, “Yeah, if you’re not busy w...”

I was interrupted by Kathy launching herself at us and hugging us both. “Oh yes, thank you! I’d love to!” she cried. She was one very strong girl, and yet felt very, very girl as she hugged us.

She sat back on the table. Sarah was laughing. “That’s okay! We wanted to let you know early in case you have complications.”

Kathy frowned. “Like? I don’t understand.”

“For the last two years,” Sarah explained, “One of the mob was an Arab kid, a Prince, son of royalty, that kind of thing. When he went with, his security guys came along.”

“And those security clowns couldn’t ski for shit!” I threw in.

“His dad moved him to a school outside London this year, and he hates it and the weather,” Sarah added. She looked to me and said, “Got an e-mail from him today -- I’ll send it around. Prep for Oxford next year.”

Kathy laughed and shook her head, then looked at us. “I’m so lucky to have landed here, and met you...” We got another hug. Something about the way she smelled, her hug, made me dizzy.

She sat back. “Well, we’d better get ready for dinner.”

“Don’t want to be downwind from Peter,” Sarah muttered.

“What’s with him?” Kathy asked, concern in her voice.

I shrugged. “Personal preference, I guess. He’s really bright though. Chemistry, ancient languages. Wasn’t this bad last year -- he was in our quad and bathed every couple of weeks.”

Sarah shook her head. “Shelly raised the roof -- she’s in the room next to his, and had to block the air vents in her room to keep out the stink. Powers what be told him he either cleans up his act this week, or gets moved to another quad -- Shelly told me a little while ago. She might stay with me until things shake out.”

I raised an eyebrow, and Sarah elbowed me in the ribs.

“Dream on!” she laughed.

“Hey, remember the storms last year? And frosh don’t have queen-sized beds like we do this year,” I reminded her.

“What’s this?” Kathy asked, a lilt in her voice.

“I’ll explain later if you’re interested,” Sarah told her as she patted me on the leg. “Actually, David is easy... Dinner time, sport! You’ve got time for a quick shower, or you sit next to Peter!”

I hopped up. “I gotta go!”

The ladies laughed. Peter didn’t show for dinner, so Kathy sat with us. She seemed to be unwinding more in spite of her afternoon trauma, and fit in well with our crowd. She and Sarah were talking quietly on the way back to our rooms. I had a full evening of study planned, unfortunately.

“Hey, breakfast!” I hollered, knocking on Sarah’s door the next morning. Usually she was knocking on mine.

“A minute,” she replied.

I waited. I was going to ask her if she was feeling okay -- that’s about the only time she isn’t at my door first, but when she came out, she swept me into a kiss, pushing me back against the wall!

“Oh, how I wanna jump your bones tonight!” she steamed in my ear.

I gave her another squeeze. “I was going to ask if you were feeling okay -- I guess you are!”

She laughed, took my hand, and led us to the stairs. “Stayed up way too late last night talking.”

“Kathy?” I suggested.

“Yah. She’s cool, a good kid.”

“Learn anything besides that?” I asked.

“No specifics; she’s still holding her cards close, and I told her to keep it that way until she’s comfortable. But she’s smart, and already accepted to Stanford and Princeton when she graduates.”

“Really!”

“Yah, really! And I may have mentioned that’s where you’re going, and we just might have talked about you, and some other things as well.” She squeezed me. “Take it easy today -- save your energy,” she growled.

“Gee, you should have talks like that more often!”

She pinched my ass!

Study hall in the afternoon, Sarah lazily running a hand up and down my thigh. Very nice, but very distracting! I took her hand and kissed it, then put it on top of the table. Shelly was sitting across from us and giggled. Kathy was at her now-usual corner and glanced our way with a smile. I shook my head and tried to work. Glanced up a bit later on though to watch Kathy. Took me a moment to realize -- she was blinking! Comparing to Shelly sitting next to her, the rates were about the same! So what was it earlier? Why the change?

Then Shelly looked me in the eye; probably thought she’d caught me staring again. She smiled and moved her shoulders slightly, swaying her abundant charms. I sighed and smiled, then looked down to my books. Shelly giggled again.

“Ready, sport?” Sarah called, opening my door after dinner and the evening’s work.

I closed my books. I was caught up, even a bit ahead on things. And I was tired and could use a break. “Give me a minute to brush my teeth and use the loo,” I told her as I stood and stretched. I kicked my computers to start backups; I had some fun I wanted to preserve.

“Okay, you know where to find me...” she lilted, and closed the door.

Cleaned up and went next door. Knocked softly and Sarah answered, “I’m here!”

Just a night light on in her room, the blinds pulled back looking at the plains, no moon yet.

I smelled something -- Sarah was spreading something between her breasts. I heard her take a sharp, deep breath. Whatever it was, it smelled like more...

In her arms, in her bed, kissing her, filling myself with her perfume, holding and squeezing more. She moaned and held me, moving my head down.

Oh, so much better -- drowning in that scent as she squeezed me to a breast, so hot and hungry for her, so dizzy! I wasn’t tired anymore, that was for sure!

And neither was Sarah -- we went at it for I don’t know how long, finally collapsing, only to have her pull my head between her breasts and squeeze me. We ended on our sides as she held me, and that’s how we went to sleep.

Not quite awake in the morning, being held to a breast, so satisfying, so comforting.

But then a hand moved down my stomach and she squeezed my head to her, getting me deliriously hard as she pushed me to my back and rode us. I couldn’t get enough of her, her breasts, that scent.

We had time to shower, but we had to hurry to breakfast. No excuses for being late to class!

“Wow!” was about all I could say as we went down the stairs. I put an arm around Sarah and gave her a gentle squeeze. “What’s the matter?” I asked as she frowned.

“A little sore,” she said. She stopped on a landing and pushed me against the wall, kissing. “But worth it...”

I didn’t disagree!

Friday at lunch, I was sitting alone at a little table when Kathy sat next to me, grinning ear to ear. “It’s all worked out,” she declared.

“Going to Whistler with us?” I guessed.

“Oh, of course, but this is better!”

“Okay, I give up -- what?”

“Well,” she started in. “Peter declared he would bathe when he damn well felt like it, and it wasn’t likely to be any time soon. So he’s being moved, and I mean now. And that opens up a room in your quad. So...”

I gave her an incredulous look. She wouldn’t...

She laughed. “You said I was smart! I’m sure not moving in there! They’re going to clean and air it out for a few days, and Ralph is moving in; he says he likes the view better...”

“View of Shelly next door,” I muttered.

She agreed. “He said something about line of sight, but I don’t mind -- I’m taking Ralph’s room, and they’re putting a kid who’s starting mid next week in my old room. So it will be you, Sarah, and me at that end of the quad, Peter is out, and I’ll be sitting with you guys at dinner and everything.”

I turned my hand palm up on the table, offering. “That sounds great. Oh, Ralph is an electronics and ham radio nut -- that side of the building evidently gives him a better view of things. If we have communications failures like we did last year, he’s a good one to find.”

She put her hand in mine. The feeling was tingly, electric. “Really? You’ll have to tell me about that...” Her smile faded to a sigh. “But later -- my folks are picking me up this afternoon. I’ll be back Sunday.”

I nodded. She didn’t volunteer why, and I didn’t pry. “We’ll miss you, especially when we’re moving books and things.”

She smiled. “Oh don’t you worry -- you’ll get to help move me when I get back...” She squeezed my hand.

Oh how I hope, sweetie...

“Where’s K?” Sarah asked, picking me up later for the walk to dinner.

“She didn’t tell you?” I asked.

Sarah frowned. “Nope, what?”

“She’s gone until Sunday -- parents picked her up for something. Back Sunday.”

“Helicopter?” Sarah said in astonishment.

I smiled and shrugged, then hugged her. “Too early to tell.” “Helicopter” was our slang term for parents who hover a hundred feet away and swoop in, usually unexpectedly and at the wrong time. Damn few of them around this place though -- most of us had what we called “B2” parents -- we were dropped in from 40,000 feet and nobody even knew they were around until we hit the ground. “But when she gets back...” I told Sarah about the moving plans. Weird... Sarah seemed upset that Kathy wasn’t around, but was really happy about having her as a neighbor.

Shelly was explaining it to the table when we got there. Sarah gave her a big hug, and gave Ralph one, too. Everyone seemed pretty happy about the situation. Well, aside from Kathy’s old quad, who were pretty quiet, but then again, they were quiet most of the time. We joked about helicopters and bombers, and dropping Peter into the middle of a lake, where it would take him at least half an hour to swim out -- to get rid of the top few layers, but think of the poor fish...

Ralph’s senior “friend” came by after dinner to collect him for the night. Great looking -- no wonder Ralph looked a little tired some mornings! But she had quite the sense of humor, and made a few digs at Ralph moving next door to Shelly. Poor Ralph -- he just smiled...

Walking back with Sarah, she let out a long sigh.

“Sighing Sarah,” I said, an arm around her. “What do you need, sweetie?”

She leaned into me a little more as we walked. “Stay with me tonight?” she asked.

I kissed her on the head. “Of course.”

We both had homework to do. When she came to collect me, she was wearing her robe. Under it I saw the universal sign for snuggles but no sex -- her undies. Fine with me; I’d live.

“Still sore?” I asked as we went to her room.

She smiled and sighed. “A little, but it was worth it!”

I held her. “It was. What was the perfume you put on?”

“Oh, it was from K -- she thought I’d like it.”

I kissed her neck. “Well I sure did, and I think you did too!”

She laughed. “She left me a different sample. Wanna try?”

I glanced at her undies. “Sure you want to take the risk?”

She chuckled as she sat on the bed and took a little foil pack thing off her nightstand. “She said you’d like it -- very soothing...” She spread it on the tops of her breasts and between them, taking a whiff from the little sheet before she put it down. “Mmm -- nice...” She reclined on the bed and opened her arms. “Turn out the light and let me hold you...”

I turned off the light and crawled into bed with her. She was right -- very soothing, even though I couldn’t seem to get enough of it, or her. She had to squeeze me and tell me to be gentle. She held me and I melted in her arms.

I like Saturday mornings -- no need to get up early. And what better place to spend the morning than in someone’s arms, holding and snuggling.

Peter left our quad pretty much without notice, save for the stink which remained. Even the staff folks who came to move things and clean up had a hard time. They ended up taking everything out of the room, wiping down all the surfaces, and leaving something running in the room that was supposed to clean the air. Shelly bailed, and as she got some things from her room, overheard two of the facilities folks making bets on whether or not they’d have to pull and replace the carpeting!

Kathy sat with us at dinner Sunday. It wasn’t until Tuesday when Ralph finally moved (after they pulled and replaced the carpet). I got to help with the fancy electronics, as Ralph trusted me. That’s an interesting aspect of this place. Don’t think there are many scholarship cases here; most of the kids come from very well-off families. To prevent the entertainment-systems equivalent of an arms race, the school has rules on maximum display sizes (27 to 30 inches, LCDs only), speaker sizes (no reproduction surfaces larger than four inches in diameter) and maximum audio power amp levels. No television sets allowed, but we don’t have any TV stations close, and no cable TV (no dishes allowed either). But most kids watch DVDs through their computers anyway (and Netflix was allowed).

With really bright, really diverse kids, we do have some interesting boundary-pushers. One gal, a senior this year, has a harpsichord in her room, and other musical instruments abound; we have a very good student orchestra and band. Ralph is an electronics nut. He has meticulously organized cases of parts ranging from small to really tiny in size, and some wild test equipment. I looked up the spectrum analyzer he has; it sells new for around $50,000, and that’s without options! I’m a computer geek, and there are plenty of us. Well, plenty of folks with lots of computer horsepower in their dorm rooms. I’m not a gamer, though; I’ve already blown through all the advance placement computer science classes they offer, and I’m working with Prof. M on advanced stuff. Just about everyone has a laptop, and a lot of folks have desktops as well. I’ve got a laptop (an Apple PowerBook), a desktop (top of the line dual G5 PowerPC), and a server (dual G5 Xserve with a RAID array). Oh, my own gigabit router as well; one of the restrictions is no private wireless nodes in the dorms, but that makes sense, and since it’s a rule, of course it’s followed. Right...

It only took half an hour or so for Sarah and me to move Kathy. Kathy seemed really happy about the move, and gave Sarah and me big hugs. Unfortunately, I didn’t have time to hang around -- lots of work to do. Besides, Kathy and Sarah still seemed, how you say it, close.

Points

Friday night - Saturday morning; I was screwed up, couldn’t sleep, and I was wasting my time flopping around. One fifteen says the clock. I got up. Didn’t bother with lights and grabbed my robe.

Okay, which way? I turned to the right to the little vestibule.

And paused before going through the doorway -- someone was sitting on the couch in the dark. Where I was standing was a lot darker though. I stood still, unsure of whether to go in or go back the other way.

After a little while, Kathy’s voice rang out. “I know you’re there!”

I stepped out into the vestibule. “Sorry. It’s David. Couldn’t sleep,” I told her and flopped on the other couch. She put a thick document on the table. Reading? In the dark? I couldn’t even figure out who it was sitting there from back in the hallway!

“Neither could I,” she told me.

I sighed, looking out the window. Storms coming, fall and winter coming. I was tired but wired, all screwed up.

“What is it, David? Can I help?” Kathy offered.

I shook my head. “Local rule -- you have to ask three times, so be sure you want to know...”

She held out her arms. “Come over here and tell me. Come over here and tell me. Come over...”

I was in her arms before she finished the third time. She held my head to her shoulder as I worked my arms around her soft robe. I closed my eyes and filled myself with her sexy sweet spicy scent. She surprised me by holding me so well, so gently. I don’t know; I think I wanted to cry but the tears wouldn’t come out.

After a while we sat back. She held my hands and asked, “Tell me?”

I sighed again and shook my head, looking out the window again. “I ... our family lost a good friend today,” I whispered.

After a bit too much silence, she squeezed my hands.

Another sigh and I started in. “Stop me if it’s more information than you want. My parents both died when I was little; think you’ve heard that part already.” She nodded and I continued. “I’ve been raised by my dad’s father, and my dad’s older sister. Eight years ago the family hired Chris as a bodyguard, assistant, driver, whatever; he was 23 then. He became a ...” I choked up and had to clear my throat, continuing softly for a bit, “big brother. Whenever I was around, not in school here or wherever, Chris was there. He was my big brother, teaching, teasing, doing so much...”

I paused and laughed, shaking my head.

“Tell me?” she asked.

“Last May -- Cannes film festival. Guess Sarah hasn’t told you this one. Papa, that’s what we call my grandfather, was invited, an honored guest. He knew about it a long time in advance. I didn’t. They surprised me, Chris picking me up from here and taking me to France. What a surprise! But the big surprise, you don’t attend those functions alone -- they, he, lined up two beautiful young women to ‘attend’ with us. They also ... taught me an incredible amount. God, what a trip... I came back here for the last three weeks of the term and I don’t know how I made it through....”

I paused for a while. “Tonight, last night, whatever, getting ready for bed, I browsed by CNN. Chris’ picture popped up on the screen. There was an attempt on Papa’s life -- he’s an ambassador. He’s okay but Chris was killed, along with two others. He used to be a Navy Seal; never knew that.”

I stopped, and after a few moments she pulled me to her shoulder again. This time I could cry. I cried and babbled. Chris had been a friend for so long, longer than anyone else. Sarah was next, but I’d only known her a few years here at school. Chris taught me so much, challenged me to do better, work harder. He’d taken off early in the summer to be with Papa at the Embassy, bringing in Rick and Jeff who worked with me the rest of the summer, getting me into the best physical condition I’d ever been in -- they’d worked with Chris, so they were probably Seals as well. I talked to Chris a few weeks ago; he challenged me to work harder, stay in shape...

I don’t remember how it happened. She held me, and moved me to her breasts, holding me between her breasts through her nightie. The way she smelled -- like the perfumes Sarah had worn, yet different -- soothing yet arousing at the same time. And I cried as she held me.

As we held each other, I started feeling more aroused. I guess she felt the same way -- she got us up and took me by the hand to her room. I was dizzy and confused and I don’t know what as she pulled me to her bed.

That first contact... Her breasts are between Sarah’s and Shelly’s in size, but they were denser, fuller, heavier, and her nipple was larger and firmer, and I was so hungry... Oh so good in my mouth as she held me, cradled me, and my mouth was filled with warm, sweet milk! I moaned and held her.

She growled, holding me, telling me to suck, moving my head slightly, sending me off to a delirious cloud.

Drifting in her embrace, sucking more, responding to her voice, starting to sigh as her nipple went away, only to receive another, crushed to her again, her voice urging me on, my body responding.

And my body responding as she held me to her, urging me to suck, her hand on my cock, coming so intensely! Trying to move, being held, comforted, taken back to that cloud and drifting off...

Don’t know how I made it to the library the next morning. We woke in the pre-dawn light, took turns using her bathroom, talked in bed and she held me again, suckling me, taking me to orgasm and into dreamy bliss, then getting us up as she had to go. I know I showered in my own room and got dressed and out the door somehow.

I looked up from my books and notes and said out-too-loud, “Fuck.” How stupid could I be? One of the library staff appeared opposite me and gave me a nasty glare. I returned it, with interest. She went away. Someone behind me giggled. I looked down at my stuff, but didn’t really focus on it.

I’m not too bright some times... Yep, the pieces of the Kathy puzzle fit -- appearing a few weeks into the term (well, not that unusual), mood swings, not participating in physical education, producing milk, horny but avoiding sex -- recent childbirth would seem to fit the bill. And I’d asked her if she’d had close boyfriends! If I was right, one got pretty close! But the family part -- how did her family fit in? To go through pregnancy and childbirth, seemingly give up the kid, get dumped here yet parents helicopter in? Guess it could fit; I could invent plausible scenarios -- parents supporting her to see the pregnancy through, this place for recovery, healing -- at a distance, with privacy. Maybe a similar place for the last part of the pregnancy to keep it quiet? Wow, that’s a trip that comes with a lot of baggage!

But as I thought about, it seemed plausible. That’s one very gutsy, very bright girl. What a trip!

And I almost laughed, a bitter laugh -- the whole thing had all but driven Chris’s death out of my mind! My aunt was my contact with the family currently; I opened my laptop and sent her a short e-mail that I’d seen the story on Chris and Papa on CNN last night, and my prayers were with them. Not that I prayed, but it was the best thing I could think of to say. So much I thought I’d known about him, yet I hadn’t known about his Seal background. The news reports called him a “private employee” who’d delayed returning to college to work for Papa. No family. Well, other than us.

Tried working more, but my heart and mind weren’t in it. Push for another half hour, then it’s lunch.

“Hey there,” Sarah’s voice, a hand on my shoulder. I looked up and she gave me a concerned smile. “Where were you this morning?”

I nodded, gathering my stuff and nodding to one of the small workrooms off the library. They had large glass windows so you couldn’t use them for fooling around, but they were soundproof so conversations were permitted.

“What’s up?” she asked when we were inside with the door closed.

I sighed. “Remember me talking about Chris?”

She smirked. “Oh yeah.”

“CNN last night -- he died in an ambush meant for my grandfather. My...”

She hugged me tight. “Oh, I’m sorry... You should have got me up.”

I held her and rubbed her back. “That’s okay... Couldn’t sleep and after a while I left my room -- Kathy was in the vestibule. Talked to her, told her all about it.”

Sarah backed up a bit. With a slight smile she asked, “And?”

I shook my head. “She took me back to her room...”

Sarah sat down again and held my hands. “Did she, like, nurse you?”

I raised an eyebrow. Interesting choice of words, that. “Oh yeah...”

She smiled and nodded. “Me too... Now I know why you like it so much...”

My turn to be confused... “You too?”

She sighed and nodded. “Yah. A ... few times... She still needs the help. Tell me,” she squeezed my hands and looked so intensely into my eyes.

I sighed. “Sarah -- I love the way you hold me, holding on to you... You know what happens -- you hold me, squeeze me, and I melt in your arms... It was like that, and more, the way she tasted, filling me, I ... I don’t know how to explain it... I was in another world. And I still need you to hold me...”

She smiled. “Oh, don’t you worry about that, sweetie -- I’ll hold you better now that I know what it’s like. Did she ... touch you?” she asked a little apprehensively.

I nodded. “Something happened, and it was incredible, like a wet dream.”

She smiled, a dreamy smile. “She gave me one of the most incredible comes of my life, almost as good as you. And this morning?”

I shook my head. “I’m such a doofus some times.”

“No you’re not! Tell me!”

“We woke up and I had to pee. We took turns, then talked for a while in bed. I tried to explain the risks of romances and intimate relationships in residential schools, some of the rules that have evolved, asking her stupid questions like has she had close boyfriends in the past...”

Sarah managed a chuckle, shaking her head. “That’s okay, you were helping...”

My turn to smirk. “Yeah, that’s what I did...”

Sarah gave me a puzzled look.

“Like you said -- she told me she was going to need help for a while, if I was interested. I told her I was, and tried to explain to her how incredible it was, when she grabbed me and did it to me again. She had me so lost, floating in a dream... I think you know -- it’s so intense when I come and I’m sucking on you...”

She nodded, still smiling. “Oh I know...”

I sighed again. “Floating in a dream, surrounded by her, voices fading in and out, finally woke up in her arms... She had make-up meetings with profs; I think that’s the only reason we made it out of the room. You’ve been there too?”

Sarah’s turn to sigh. “Oh yeah -- being in her arms, sucking on her, going to sleep sucking on her after an incredible come, waking in the morning and doing it all over again...” She let go of my hands and ran her nails along my thighs as she whispered intently. “But I want you in me! I need to feel you in me when I come! It feels so good to ride you and ride you, and squeeze you and smother you to me... I love it when you get close and tense up, and you moan, and I slam my hips down on you and grind, grind, grind...”

“We could skip lunch,” I suggested, or was it the rapidly forming bulge in my pants saying that?

I was sitting with my back to the door. Sara moved, turning, as she said, “Don’t think so...”

I turned as she opened the door. Kathy was walking around, evidently looking for us, or at least one of us. She smiled when she saw Sarah, but when she came into the little room and saw me, her smile faded.

“It’s okay,” I said.

“We talked,” Sarah told her, offering a chair. Kathy sat between us. Sarah took one of her hands. I took the other.

“About last night?” Kathy asked.

I nodded. “About learning that Chris was dead, and telling you, and you holding me, and oh God, being lost in your arms -- in a dream...”

“And I know what it’s like, too,” Sarah said softly. “And I told you -- squeeze him to a nipple, and he’s all yours. And I love it just as much.”

I think all three of us sighed at the same time, then laughed some.

“And I couldn’t tell another soul,” I told Kathy.

“Neither could I -- we don’t want to share you with anyone else,” Sarah said.

That brought more of a smile back to Kathy. She looked back and forth at us. “Really? You don’t mind?”

“Being lost in your arms?” I asked.

“Or sharing?” Sarah asked, then answered her own question, “Not at all.”

Kathy shook her head again. “I like it, too.” She looked to Sarah. “You know...”

Sarah smiled, that dreamy, sexy smile... “It isn’t quite the same, but you should let me hold you so you can get a better idea...”

“We’ll help as long as you want,” I tossed in hopefully.

She gave us a wistful smile. “I hope it was the right thing to do...”

I know she was trying to help; being in her arms had been so good, but I felt like I’d been kicked in the gut, everything returning so quickly -- I’d never really known my parents, now Chris was gone. I closed my eyes and tried not to cry.

Sarah held me, nestling my head between her beasts, holding me, rocking me. I held on, held on to her even as I knew the only thing I had to hold on to was memories. Don’t know if I cried or not.

A sharp rapping on the glass. Sarah stepped away and as I wiped my eyes, I saw one of the banshees glaring at us, hands on hips.

Kathy snarled, “I’ll take care of this...”

She stepped out quickly, closing the door behind her. The librarian opened her mouth, only to shut it again as Kathy lit into her. We couldn’t hear, but we sure could see.

Watching, Kathy so animated as she berated the shorter yet older librarian, Sarah with her arm around my shoulders -- the pain faded. I had two good friends.

Kathy stopped talking, standing with fists on her shapely hips, glaring fiercely. The librarian glanced to Sarah and me with a far less confrontational demeanor, nodded her head, said something to Kathy, and walked off. Kathy turned to the door with a victorious smile. “Let’s go to lunch,” she said, sticking her head in the room slightly.

With a sigh I got up. Hugged Sarah and got my shit together, or at least as close to together as it was going to get. Kathy led us out of the library, her head high, victorious and triumphant.

Outside on the path to the commons, walking in the middle. she put her arms around both of us.

“Thank you, for everything,” I told her.

She gave us a squeeze, and a sigh. “Those busybodies need to learn when to keep their pointy ratlike snouts out of other people’s business,” she growled. Another big sigh and another hug. “David, thank you for what you said this morning -- I understand, believe me. I have to be very careful about attachments... I’m kind of glad that pest intruded when she did...”

“Why?” Sarah asked.

“I...” she started out, “I guess it wouldn’t be a surprise that I feel very close to both of you...”

“I...” started Sarah, but Kathy squeezed us.

“Let me finish,” Kathy said. “I’ve told both of you -- I need your help. This is bringing out so much in me...”

Didn’t have a clue what was going on, but I held her, trying to be supportive.

“We, I needed to get out of there, because when I saw Sarah holding you, being close like that, well, if I didn’t change the subject or get out of there quick, I’d start to leak... I’m going to need your help for a while. I get full, and I have to... I have to change the subject, right now!”

We laughed, nervously.

Kathy took a breath and asked, “What’s this ‘Language Week’ thing coming up?”

“Oh, that’s fun,” Sarah replied. “And easy for a lot of us. It’s simple -- no English outside of lectures for the week. David, Shelly, and I will do French. Do you have one you’re comfortable with?”

Kathy nodded. “I’m comfortable with French, Russian, Swedish...”

I nodded. “Got to watch out for staff.”

“Yah, they’ll try and trick you, but the good news is you don’t have to watch what you say.”

“The nastier the better -- all that time in Marseilles was worthwhile,” I added.

Kathy growled and spit some things that I remembered her using with Peter.

“That sounds perfect,” Sarah chortled.

“Yeah. Aside from the lectures, remember -- no English,” I reminded as we got to lunch.

My appetite was pretty much back. I got a meat pie, salad, and two glasses of milk.

“Save room for dessert!” Kathy hissed in my ear.

That increased my appetite...

But as I broke the crust on my meat pie, reaching for the pepper, I heard Sarah call, “O merde!”

I looked up and saw three grim-looking staff zeroing in on us. Kathy got a bit pale. If they gave her shit, I was going to raise hell! I scooted my chair to intercept them.

But they came to me, a woman with a gold band leaning over and telling me, “David, your Aunt is on the phone. She said you’d know what it was about.”

With a sigh I stood up. “Where can I take the call?” We didn’t have phones in our rooms, and normal cell phones didn’t work. Satellite phones worked, but were officially verboten.

“Conference three” she replied, and headed off.

To my surprise, Sarah and Kathy followed. In response to the questioning glance I gave them, Sarah held one of my hands and Kathy took the other.

One of the silver-banded staff spoke softly into her handheld radio. The dining commons was surrounded by small rooms used for different functions. As we entered one room, the conference phone on the table rang.

The gold-banded staff woman who’d spoken to me pushed buttons and said, “We’re here.”

“David?” my aunt asked.

We spoke for a few minutes. A ceremony for Chris was set for Monday at Arlington National Cemetery. While they wanted me there, it was up to me. As I sighed and considered, Sarah, who was sitting next to me whispered in my ear, “I’m coming with you.”

I looked at her and saw the determination in her eyes. And I knew how lonely I’d be alone. I nodded and we both looked to Kathy. She shook her head.

I told my aunt I really wanted to be there, but a friend, a girlfriend, needed to come with me. That wasn’t a problem -- that surprised me!

She told me she and Papa were flying in tomorrow; was Jeff still on the line?

He spoke up. Auntie bid us goodbye and Jeff took over, confirming travel arrangements. A private jet would pick us up in two hours at the local strip. He would meet us at the private terminal at O’Hare outside Chicago, and we’d fly commercial to D.C., staying in Georgetown.

The gold-banded staff woman told us to be at Admin with packed bags in 90 minutes for a ride to the airstrip. We told her we’d be there. She nodded curtly, gathered her entourage, and left.

Without missing a beat, I told Jeff that Sarah and I would be staying together; she squeezed my hand. He didn’t have a problem with that; for formality’s sake, he an I would be in one room and Sarah in another, but he understood Sarah and I would be together. He was glad we’d be there. Pack suitable clothes and he’d see us in Chicago.

“Okay, see you in Chicago.” Click, end of call.

“We need to pack,” I sighed as I stood up.

“What do I wear?” Sarah asked as we walked back to our dorm.

“Biz formal with a raincoat,” I suggested. “We’ll be checked by the protocol mandarins and they’ll fix anything that needs fixing. You know how it works.”

She was a Captains-of-Industry kid, and as used to it as I was. We’d talked in he past about being prepped for formal occasions.

“I imagine Cannes was more fun,” Sarah smirked.

“No shit,” I agreed.

“And less clothing involved,” Kathy suggested.

I gave Sarah a glance; I guess more detail on that escapade had spread... She squeezed my hand.

I took the elevator upstairs, one of the few times I’d ridden in it this year. Sarah and Kathy went into Sarah’s room; I went into mine.

Easy deal -- I had a preset travel-pack for bath/grooming stuff, not that I got to use it much. My biz-formal stuff was on hangers; I loaded it carefully into a travel bag. Just one pair of shoes, travel clothes, done.

I sat on the bed. Shit -- should have had something to eat, even though my appetite had vanished. About a 20 minute ride to the strip. This damn place, again -- and its isolation -- deliberate choice, I guessed, a few hours (in good weather) by car to a “big” commercial airport, but we had a strip big enough to handle small biz jets closer by.

I was contemplating rushing to the commons when Sarah and Kathy came in. Sarah had a travel bag and an overcoat on her arm.

As Sarah put her things down, Kathy reclined on my bed, pulling up her top and taking off her bra.

“We have time,” she said, “One of you on each side. Please!”

I scrambled to her side, closing my eyes and filling myself with her nipple, her warmth, her milk. She held me; I heard Sarah’s soft moan join mine.

I don’t know what Kathy did to us, but it was wonderful. I felt like I was rocking, drifting, even though part of me knew I was on the bed. We made our ride and the flight, but I was in a fog until we descended into O’Hare. That was probably for the best, as our flight was fast and bumpy, Sarah and I holding hands, the only passengers on the small jet.

Jeff was waiting for us. I introduced Sarah. We took a jitney across the airport, traveling on accessways and taxiways, popping up in the commercial terminal.

“Glad we hurried,” he told us with evident irony when we walked in, pointing to a schedule display, “We’re delayed -- want something to eat? All of a sudden, we have time, and they won’t feed us going to D.C.”

Suddenly both of us were hungry! And we were away from our usual strict dietary regime! It took us a while to explain to Jeff that we really missed fast-junk food. None to be had where we were! It was a toss-up between Taco Bell and Burger King; BK won. Like they say in the movie, “slimy but satisfying.”

When we arrived in D.C., we took a limo to Georgetown. Nice, small place; we were expected, as were Papa and entourage tomorrow. Jeff checked us in, gave Sarah a key, and told us to check in with him when we got up, and not to leave the facility. We told him we understood and thanked him.

Sarah and I had a nice room with a king-sized bed, already turned down. Both of us were tired. We shared the bathroom, which was more spacious than our dorm, with marble and two sinks.

“Thank you so much for coming,” I told Sarah as I sat on the bed.

“We didn’t think it would be a good idea for you to be alone,” she said as she opened a little packet and wiped something between her breasts and across their tops. “Come here and let me hold you,” she whispered.

I turned off the lights and fell into her arms and into softness. Softness, scent -- were there voices in the distance as we floated together? Early in the morning we started the same, but the scent was spicier, intoxicating, and she rode me, smothering me to her as we came, holding me afterwards as we drifted back to sleep.

And when we woke up, getting up and showering together, it wasn’t even ten in the morning!

I called Jeff -- we could get together with our minders at eleven to approve clothing, if that would be convenient. Sure. He told us the schedule had changed; folks wouldn’t arrive until tomorrow, Monday, with services Tuesday. What would we like to do? Museums? Some shopping? Both of us had stores we wanted to hit. That sounded good, maybe some movies, something else we missed -- they did let Netflix through the barrier, uncensored.

Our review went as anticipated, and we spent until two arranging more acceptable garb for both of us. Big surprise -- I’d grown, and put on a lot more muscle, thanks to the summer with Jeff and crew. We were promised everything would be ready tomorrow afternoon; our helpers would pick things up.

We had time to hit some stores and see a not-too-good movie in a real theatre, complete with stale popcorn and sticky floors, and had a very good dinner with Jeff. Sarah talked about another movie, but Jeff said I was busy at nine. Really?

“What’s happening?” Sarah asked when we were in our room.

“Don’t know; I meet him in a room downstairs,” I told her as I dropped my coat. “Be back as soon as I can.”

She touched my arm. “I’ll be waiting.”

It was almost eleven when I returned.

Sarah was on the bed in a robe, watching a silly movie, which she turned off when I came in. She looked to me and smiled.

I stripped down to my shorts, putting my clothes on a chair, then went to the bathroom. I came out and sat on the bed. She gave me another smile, and a questioning look.

“A guy thing -- with Jeff, Rick, and two more of Chris’ buddies.” I sighed. “Before he took off, Chris had Jeff promise to watch me if anything happened to him. Funny -- when I went into the room, I wasn’t sure what was going on. Jeff asked me how I felt about Chris. I told him Chris was my big brother. They told me -- that’s how Chris felt, too -- like my big brother. Oh, they gave me some stuff Chris wanted me to have, really useful things for school like a gun and a knife...”

She chuckled and held out a hand; I held her hand in mine.

“Yeah. Rick will take the stuff back to the house in upstate New York; I guess that’s home, more or less. We’ll be going to a formal dinner Tuesday; I’m expected to say something. I told them what I’d say, and they liked it. I still miss him. But like they said, he went out with his boots on.”

Sarah nodded. “What do you need now?”

I shook my head and sighed. “Hold me, please. I want to go to sleep in your arms.”

Oh she has such a wonderful smile!

“I’d love to... Be right back. Why don’t you get comfortable?”

I crawled into bed with a sigh. The big bed was nice. She turned out the lights as she went into the bathroom, closing the door behind her.

My head was buzzing. So much, so fast. I’d had some tequila on ice with the guys. Hadn’t had a lot of that before. I was more used to cognacs, scotch, things like that, so it wasn’t bad.

She came back, crawling in, drowning me in warmth and soft scent. I held her, let her hold me, and let go of everything else.

Multiple Convergence

Sarah and I sat in the back seat of the rental car, Jeff driving. The weather had turned, so we flew commercial to Minneapolis and Jeff was playing chauffeur for the n-hour drive to school, and his n-hour drive back. Well, maybe n-1 hours back...

Look on the bright(er) side -- Sarah and I got to snuggle in the back, and we got to stop for more fast food. With any luck, it would still be Wednesday when we got to school, but barely.

Stormy -- that’s how I felt. Papa and Auntie arrived late Monday, and it was clear that Papa was pissed off. Found out from Jeff that some bureaucrat in the “host” country decided that Chris’ body needed to be held for “examination.” I could almost hear Papa ripping a few new orifices getting that turned around. The ceremony at Arlington was short and somber, the weather cold and grey to match. Our early dinner let us unwind a bit; Sarah and I both had a good red wine with our prime rib. I said my thing, Papa said his, others spoke. Afterwards Papa gave me a hug and told me he was proud of me, and what I said. That meant a lot; it means a lot. And I didn’t get any shit for bringing Sarah. When I introduced her to Papa, as not only a school colleague but my best friend, he was gracious, remarking that he knew her father. Well, Papa knows a lot of people. But we were treated well. Monday’s dinner was with embassy - diplomatic colleagues. They quickly found out what languages Sarah and I spoke! They pushed diplomatic - foreign service careers; both of us are interested, I think. We’ll see.

Dark clouds, winds buffeting us as we speed over the flats. Storms start around the North Pole, and they’re still gathering speed as they sweep through the area around school.

We arrived a little after eleven PM; I rolled down the window and waved my ID bracelet at the gate panel. Jeff dropped us off at Admin; after hugs and thanks, we trudged through the wind (but no rain -- yet) back to our dorm.

...And were greeted as we got off the elevator! Ralph and Kathy were very glad to see us, for wildly different reasons!

We’d exchanged e-mails with them. Once Ralph found out we were off-campus, he ordered two and a half pounds of electronic components from Digi-Key, costing him a small fortune. They arrived at our hotel in Georgetown on Tuesday and were safely packed with my clothes. “Yah, I got the stuff,” I told him, “come on, I’ll give it to you.”

And Kathy? She looked to be in pain. As I started to my room, Kathy gave me a hug and whispered, “In Sarah’s room, as soon as you can, I need both of you!”

I got Ralph’s parts, and he scurried off cackling. He didn’t even want to see the computer stuff I’d picked up on Monday. I visited the toilet, washed up a bit, and went next door to Sarah’s.

Oh, heaven -- Sarah on one side, me on the other, Kathy telling us how she’d waited, not wanting to use her pump, how good it felt... So good to be in her arms, being held, drifting to sleep.

Weird dreams, filled with voices, a sharp pain at the back of my head, floating, drifting again. Almost waking pre-dawn, being filled again, then being so aroused, so hungry, like being in a dream as Sarah rode me.

Thursday breakfast, staff trying to trip us up, talking to us in English... Sarah and I looked at each other and made derogatory remarks in French.

Lunch with Kathy; we talked quietly about the trip. I was glad I’d gone, very glad Sarah was there, and very glad to be back.

Kathy looked a little different, somehow. More relaxed I guess. She told me she missed us. What would I think of her spending one night with me, then a night with Sarah, alternating for a while? I held her hand and told her that sounded wonderful. She sighed and smiled.

Afternoon meeting with Prof M. His new machine had arrived! I’d ordered a fully-loaded dual-processor G5 Mac for him as part of a continuing project/scam we were doing. We reviewed plans; we’d check things out and go live with it on Saturday.

It was good to have dinner with the gang! Even though I had a bunch of things to catch up on, it was good to be back. And even though I knew I’d be sleeping alone for the first time in a few nights, I didn’t mind -- I was looking forward to Friday night with Kathy.

Kathy came by a little before ten Friday night.

“Am I too early?” she asked with a sly smile as she closed the door.

I sighed. I’d gotten my “official” school work done, and was poking at some code to review with the Prof tomorrow. “Not at all.” Funny -- a week ago at this time I’d learned about Chris. No, not funny. “I’m glad you’re here,” I told her.

She put a hand on my shoulder. “So am I. Why don’t you get ready for bed?”

I did, and crawled into bed and into her arms. I was filled with her nipple, her milk, and that soothing scent mixed with her own. In a word, heaven! I remember getting up in the middle of the night to pee, climbing back into bed, and snuggling up close, being held, drifting in her embrace.

And the morning was just as good, if not better. She had me leaned partially on my back, her weight on me. As we started to get up, I held her and tried to tell her how good it was, how comforting. She sighed and gave me a squeeze, telling me she enjoyed it, too!

Switching worlds after lunch working with Prof. M -- we maxed out his “official” school-supplied Windoze box, upgrading processor, memory, and disk storage. He’d already set up his new G5, moving things off his “old” dual processor G4. We rededicated it as a server with more storage.

And we also checked out and upgraded our hacks.

Security is a funny thing, particularly in information systems. Many places, the school as an example, build systems which have security which is strong but thin and brittle. There are a set of network resources, servers and such, available to teachers/staff that are not available to students. How do you secure them? Isolation -- build out a separate network. Then limit and authenticate machines on that network, by machine (MAC) address and port. Don’t worry if this is gibberish to you. Just remember -- strong but thin and brittle. Of course, the teachers/staff also need to communicate with students. So teachers, such as Prof M, have two network connections in their quarters. One is to the isolated network, connected only to the “approved” machine and authenticated. Oh, they use strange fiber-optic cards to connect to the teacher’s network, I guess under the assumption they’re harder to get. The other machine connects to the campus-wide network. Bozos never heard of eBay. Well, his router connects to the campus-wide network, and serves his PowerBook, G5 desktop, and G4 server.

Oh, one other thing the G4 does -- it’s connected to the additional network card we put in the Windoze box on the supposedly isolated teacher’s network.

So I can sit in my dorm room and tunnel through the campus net to the Prof’s G4, to the Windoze box, and onto the teacher’s net. Only a small breach in the isolation; a gigabit Ethernet connection... Think of it as a compact disk’s worth of information in a few seconds.

And on my side, in my room, I have a gigabit connection as well, but to the campus net. At the beginning of last year, I installed a smallish server in my room. I was tired of resurrecting other kid’s computers, so I started teaching them how to do automated backups, and set up space on my server for those backups. Since I had the horsepower, I ran my own Squid server, and some other things to make our lives easier and a little faster.

It took a month for the network police to notice the jump in traffic. I was a little worried at the start of their quizzing. Why was I doing this? Because I’m tired or resurrecting machines! But you have access to all those students’ information! Wrong -- they’re all set up to do encrypted archives. Don’t want to read ‘em and can’t read ‘em! Prof M came in on my behalf. And lo and behold, after a few days, they gave me gigabit connections to the campus backbone! Keep it quiet, keep it clean.

I upgraded to the xserve mid-year, for speed as well as to host my computer science project with the Prof, a system I call “grapevine.” It’s a java package that provides instant messaging services, the usual buddy list stuff. No file transfers. Traffic is not retained on the server; messages are deleted once delivery is confirmed. Grapevine also provides for anonymous but authenticated messaging, hence the name. At first the powers-that-be were upset with that. Some suspected I’d put a backdoor into the thing to access people’s files. Nope. Showed them all the code -- from the protocol design through implementation, no file transfers supported. And the anonymous stuff? You can post under your name, to specific people, a group, a list you maintain, to all grapevine users, or you can do the same things anonymously. And that anonymous traffic is authenticated. Not in a way that allows people to trace it back, but enough so the system can authenticate and provide feedback, both in terms of replies (private or to the group that received the message), and in terms of social feedback. Let’s say someone starts posting “Brian is a poopy head” anonymously. Don’t like that? Select that message and click “shun this poster.” You won’t see any anonymous traffic from that poster for a period of time. And the anonymous poster? They get anonymous notifications when they are shunned; the number of those messages they acquire sets the duration they’re shunned. Starts at four hours and goes to a week. Shunning doesn’t effect named posting at all. If enough people shun you, all your anonymous postings are blocked for a week. The social sciences types liked that, and one of them, Deborah H, wanted reports on that activity; we’ve done some papers on it. Kids learn real quick on both sides!

And like I said, no backdoors. No way to transfer files.

But the code does have a very, very large front door. Using a slightly nonstandard client, you can use any active grapevine client as a proxy to the net. Well, you can’t. I can, and so can the Prof. Let’s say I want to do some heavy-duty data mining of some resource on the net, our side or the public Internet, such as an admin database. They think they’ve got it protected by only allowing so many requests per user per unit of time. It’s called rate limiting. First request from a user is processed, and a timer started. Subsequent requests from that user won’t be dispatched until n seconds have elapsed. So when I want a shitload of data, my requests are automagically and dynamically spread out over the set of active grapevine clients. The client systems make the requests and forward the responses back through the server to me. I get all the data, and the guardian-at-the-gate snoozes along. Fun stuff.

We just upgraded grapevine’s transport layer to use data compression, increasing local CPU use and lowering network bandwidth -- a slight increase in CPU yields a 4x or so decrease in network traffic. We’d told the admin types about that change, and they liked it. They’d even reviewed the code and approved it. Hey, we aren’t trying to sneak anything in here! Sotto voce -- we don’t need to; everything we need is already there... We’d tested it out with a small group of users, our quad and some of the teachers, now we were turning it on for the entire school. Nice thing about Java; the new stuff would migrate out automagically. I like that term even if spell-checkers don’t. To the end users, it’s magic; it just works.

Feh. The next morning (Sunday) one of the IT folks called the Prof (teachers have phones in their quarters) to complain of a 20% spike in network traffic. Prof tagged me, and we got the three of us together, on grapevine naturally. I pointed folks at the (publicly available) grapevine server stats webpage and showed them they were seeing the upgrade hit, and excluding that traffic, grapevine traffic was reduced by fifty percent. We’d set things up so that the client pulled the updated code from the server when they first encountered a compressed message. Stats also showed that about nine percent of the clients were not upgraded. Let me know how things look in the afternoon. They thought that was pretty cool. They went away.

Dinner Sunday was a dress-up affair; we have them once a month, with smaller formal dinners every so often. Helps polish our social skills, I guess, and runs up bills with the school’s cleaning and pressing service. All the ladies at our table looked quite tasty. Even Ralph dressed well. The way he talked he was hunting a problem with something he was building.

Oh Kathy was tasty when she came to my room late that night. “I hope you don’t mind,” is the last thing I remember her whispering to me. Weird... I could almost hear voices, maybe in my dreams? Almost woke up once, or did I? Sure didn’t want to get up in the morning, though!

But we did, and I was full of energy, and so focused! That was the week, settling into an incredible routine with Kathy bouncing between Sarah and me. Friday morning I woke early to Sarah pouncing on me in bed, and I mean pouncing! She was ravenous! She got me so turned on, between her hands, her body, that spicy perfume she wore, and rode us to a glorious collapse. But after we showered, we were both full of energy, and ravenous! Friday night Kathy was with me, so soft, soothing, comforting, filling... No weird dreams that night, either.

Weird Saturday helping Ralph. Went to his room after lunch. He had most of his test equipment, including the spectrum analyzer, up and running. A lot of it was hooked to what looked to be shoeboxes covered with aluminum foil, all sitting on a four by four foot piece of plywood on his bed.

“What’s that?” I asked him, pointing.

“Shoeboxes covered in foil. Put your right hand and arm in it all the way,” he told me, pulling up a chair for me to sit in. “Hold the dowel at the end.”

“Is this like that box thing in ‘Dune?’” I asked him.

He laughed. “Nah -- you won’t feel a thing. Maybe just as sinister, though. Don’t know yet.”

I sat down and put my hand and arm in the thing. He smooshed some foil around my upper arm. I figured he was probing the ID bracelet. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

He frowned and hit some buttons on his laptop. The spectrum analyzer breeped, the displays changed quickly, and it started doing its thing.

“They updated things over the summer,” he told me as he looked back and forth between his laptop and the analyzer. He tweaked some controls on another gadget and then keys on the laptop. “I need both hands to run shit,” he mumbled.

After a few more runs, he seemed more satisfied, even though he frowned more.

“Yeah, that’s it,” he said, tapping the screen of the spectrum analyzer, tapping one of the peaks on the display.

“So tell me!”

He glanced to me and grinned. “Okay. When I got here for the start of school this year and was getting my bracelet, I overheard one of the clowns telling another to make sure they had all the old bracelets set aside, and only gave out the new ones. So of course I did a scan of my new one, but the results were inconclusive. Thanks to the parts you picked up, and updating the software in this beast,” he tapped the spectrum analyzer display again, “I figured out how to do it.”

He sat on the floor, putting his laptop on top of the spectrum analyzer. “You know this shit better than most. RF-ID tag, excite it and it responds with its embedded code. All flea-power, short range stuff. We mapped the system last year, you guys did the software side. That was fun, and really good shit. But they’ve changed the game. Before, local readers sent out excitation pulses and the tag responded on pretty much the same frequency. The new tags also respond to excitation on at least one other frequency. And I think they respond to coding in that excitation signal. The old ones responded to a carrier, a naked pulse. The new ones, I think, respond to the old way, and also to the new way, a lower frequency, but they look at the signal... Let me move things around a bit. I’m going to look at the secondary and watch your tag’s response.”

He moved some wires around, hit some more buttons. “Doesn’t make sense. Unless... Oh yeah! The secondary can tell certain tags NOT to respond! It’s selective inhibition! But why the fuck would they do that from a systems sense?”

He moved the laptop to his lap and worked for a while, doing things on the laptop, spectrum analyzer, and some of the other gear hooked into the mess.

“Hey, remember me?” I asked a few minutes later.

“Oh, fuck, sorry about that,” he apologized. He put things down and helped me out of the test box.

“Needed the double shielding to give me the isolation. Hey, let’s swap places and run my tag.”

He rewired and twiddled things a bit, then sat in the chair and had me squash the foil around his arm. He directed me on pushing buttons. He frowned and concentrated for a bit.

“Okay, help me out.”

He looked at things on the computer, then smiled a bit. “Hey, go run your hand and the tag under cold water for a few minutes,” he told me.

I gave him a weird look. “Think they’re encoding temperature in the response?”

He nodded, not looking up from his laptop. “Wild guess, let’s find the fuck out!”

We did. He was right.

“Okay, why are they doing that? Because they can, or for some good reason?”

“Got me, pal -- you’re the systems geek. Find out what they do with the data. I’ll build up a few sniffers for the secondary, but I’ve got this weird feeling we’re not going to like the answer.”

“Okay, let me know. I’ll mention it to the Prof when I see him Monday.”

Ralph frowned and shook his head. “Let’s not do that just yet. I want more data.”

“That weird, huh?”

“Don’t know just yet. Could be.”

Sarah caught me as I was leaving for dinner, wrapping her arm in mine.

“Hi, sweetie! How’s your day been?” I asked.

“Looking forward to tonight,” she sighed. She squeezed my arm a bit. “You might get an early wake-up call in the morning,” she growled.

“Don’t mind a bit. We can sleep in,” I agreed.

“What’s Ralph up to?” she asked when we were outside.

“He have you stick your hand in the box?” I asked in response.

“Yah. Figure it’s to do with the bracelets, but he said it was too early to tell.”

I nodded. “That’s about it. Too early to tell. We know they changed the system, though.”

Ralph ate at his senior friend’s table. Didn’t look like he was spending a whole lot of time sleeping in his room...

When I cornered him at one of the big lectures Tuesday, he complained, “It’s going to take me a week to get a few of the damn things built! I’m too busy!”

Didn’t see Kathy for lunch as I sometimes did. Instead, Shelly joined me!

We talked chickenshit for a while. I figured she had something on her mind and would get to it when she got to it.

“So what’s with you, Sarah, and Kathy? Pretty chummy,” she tossed out.

I nodded. “Personal, helping Kathy,” I told her.

She shrugged. She knew I didn’t gossip. “Talk about lit assignment this afternoon?”

We had a lit assignment, pretty chickenshit but we had to do it, to talk to someone about a poem we liked. “Sure.”

“Three, my place?” she suggested.

“Sounds good.”

We ended up wandering to my place, but we got the assignment done and sent off. As I got mine sent off we were interrupted by a pixie (sorry, a 9th grader) in full panic mode about a distressed laptop. I gathered my bag of tricks and went downstairs to help her and her roomie.

“Was it bad?” Shelly asked me at dinner.

I frowned. “Someone clicking a spam link with an unpatched windoze box, picking up a surprising amount of crap in nothing flat. Took me too damn long to get things straightened out.”

“Tell ‘em to get a Mac,” Sarah chimed in.

I laughed, as did the others at the table. Most of what I did was Mac based. “Oh, I did.” I shook my head.

“What?” Kathy asked, rubbing my back.

“When I walked in, her roomie got really big eyes, almost freaking out. She finally asked me if I was really the one who wrote grapevine, like it was a big deal or something.”

“Could have let them honor you,” Ralph tossed in.

I frowned and shook my head. Sarah and Shelly gave him nasty looks. Kathy rubbed my back. I don’t play those games.

He apologized the next day, and asked for help. He was trying to do too much in hardware for the secondary sniffer. It took me four days to design, code, and debug code for a PIC microprocessor to do the job. Should have only taken me three days, but I asked him a few questions and he changed the interface specs. But we got it debugged and integrated.

When I left his room, Shelly’s door was open. “Hey there!” she called out.

I leaned in the door. “Hey there yourself! What’s up?”

She smiled. “Got a minute?”

I liked that smile... “Sure. Should I close the door?”

She shrugged, still smiling. “Your choice.”

I closed the door.

She leaned back a bit, looking more delicious. “So, are you busy tonight?” she asked. She was holding a little folded piece of paper in one hand.

I shook my head. “Nope.”

“Stay with me?” she asked.

I raised an eyebrow. Thought she was ‘with’ someone.

She shook her head and sighed. “Don was two-timing me, and his senior girlfriend. We told him he can two-time with both his hands.”

I shook my head. Stupid thing to do around here... But was I about to do the functional equivalent? “I don’t know... Sarah and Kathy...”

She grinned from ear to ear and held the piece of paper out to me. It was sealed with a piece of tape.

I unfolded it. One side was in Sarah’s handwriting, the other side was Kathy’s. Both essentially said the same thing -- Shelly needs the help, have fun! “Have you read this?” I asked.

She shook her head. “Nope, but I talked to both of them after dinner. We figured you’d find a polite way to ... do what you did. They suggested writing a note.”

I folded it and put it in my pocket. “I would have believed you,” I told her.

“Thanks. Now stop being such a gentleman and strip!”

Wild necking, feeling, squeezing, devouring her as we thrashed around on the bed, then making love, me on top pounding into her.

Oh what a surprise afterwards -- she pulled me to a nipple, held me so nicely, and took me off into that dreamy place.

In the morning I was putting my shoes on in my room after a much needed shower when Sarah knocked on the door. “Ready to go?”

“Yah,” I hollered, grabbing my bag for the morning’s troll.

“So, how was last night?” Sarah asked gently as we went down the stairs.

I stopped us on a landing and hugged her, sighing mightily.

She chuckled. “That good, huh?”

We looked each other in the eye. “Last night was a lot of fun,” I told her, then sighed again. “This morning -- she wiped me out. I don’t know what she did, riding me... But whatever it was, you should find out!”

She chuckled and held me close. “I’ll do that. You may get more early morning visits. I’m glad you stayed with her -- I was worried.”

I was confused! “About what? Thanks for the note. What were you worried about?”

She pulled back and looked at me with a puzzled frown. “Shelly -- she’s been a little weird lately; I don’t know how to put my finger on it.”

I sighed and rolled my eyes. She laughed, squeezed me, and started us down the stairs again. “I’ll let Kathy know you need to be comforted tonight.”

God, what a delicious rut!

Kathy holding me, comforting me, taking me to such a soft, safe place. Sarah and Shelly screwing my brains out.

Compensation for the crazy workload. Juniors and seniors are expected to spend time tutoring younger kids. I was helping with one of the computer science classes; a bunch of kids were extending Grapevine. Seems we had a new API to school servers to return a student’s location! You had to have a student ID number, which wasn’t available; it had to be given to you. We designed the extension so that a student controlled who had access to their ID, and therefore could do location lookups on them. The lookup returned a weird data structure giving a rough location as sort of grid reference, building, and floor, and a text description.

The Prof was surprised when I talked to him about it -- he hadn’t known about it. And lo and behold, when we did the same calls from the teacher’s network, we got that weird data structure with more fields filled in!

Thursday night -- Kathy passed notes to Sarah, Shelly, Ralph, and me during study hall. When I read mine later, it said, “Cabal meeting -- library stacks at 8pm.”

I walked over with Sarah. “Know what this is about?” I asked her.

She hugged me. Cold wind was blowing through from the North. “Nope. She got a little box yesterday, though.”

Kathy, Ralph, and Shelly were already there.

“We’re waiting for Sam,” Kathy told us.

Sam is the other person in our quad, Samantha.

Kathy offered an explanation. “Sam gave me the clue I needed.”

Something chemical? Sam was the chemistry wiz, and Kathy was doing some advanced chem things. Most of the time Sam is grind-grind-grind. She and her family are our hosts at Whistler; when she’s off-campus, she most definitely lets her hair (short and red) down!

Sam showed up with a bag full of books.

Kathy nodded to her. “First off, I’d like to thank all of you for your friendship. And some of you have provided special help.” She glanced to Sarah and to me, then to Sam. “Particularly in solving this riddle. Well, I’m not sure I’ve solved the riddle, but I do know how to find things. Here...”

She handed each of us a little black plastic thing. Okay, I’ve seen them -- they’re little light emitting diode flashlight thingies.

“Careful!” she warned us. “They’re a lot brighter than you think!”

Yeah, it had a warning label on it, “CAUTION! Intense UV light can cause eye damage if viewed directly.”

“These generate UV?” I asked.

“Close to it,” Kathy answered. “Now watch!”

She walked to the uncataloged stacks holding our favorite “technical reports.” She held one hand a little under her eyes, as if to block light, then held the little LED thing in front of her. As she moved it over the stacks, little dots glowed on the spines of some of the volumes!

“Bravo!” I said, applauding softly.

The others joined in her praise. She took a bow, smiling.

“Sam?” she said, turning to Samantha.

Sam had her PDA out. “I put together a list, if you want it. Eighty two titles.”

Wow! I only had thirty six or so! I dug out my PDA as the others got theirs.

Funny, when Sam beamed the stuff to us, Kathy looked away.

We talked for a bit, picking out titles we hadn’t read before.

“Stagger your exits, please, and vary your paths through the library,” I suggested.

“Yeah, things have changed,” Ralph chimed in.

The others were concerned. Ralph looked to me. Guess I was the pseudo-statesman. “The ID tag system was changed over the summer. There’s additional system functionality as well. Part of it is being rolled into Grapevine, essentially allowing you to let your friends locate you on campus.”

Folks nodded. Some looked to me, implicitly asking for more.

“Don’t know more yet. We’re still working on it.”

I walked back with Kathy. Soft and soothing, what can I say?

Formal dinner Saturday night, for our quad in one of the small rooms; Sam’s birthday.

Sam is tall and slender, pale skin, short, curly red hair, and when she gets in the sun, she breaks out in freckles. She’s a fiend for chemistry, biochem, life sciences stuff. She also speaks, reads, writes, and curses in Japanese, Mandarin, Cantonese, and supposedly is working on Korean. I’ve seen her shock the hell out of bunches of Japanese tourists at Whistler, yelling at them in their own language.

For her birthday we had a superbly catered Japanese meal, complete with hot Sake. Juniors and Seniors get booze in monitored quantities on special occasions. This was one of them.

Great meal except my miso soup was really salty! I was sitting between Sarah and Shelly; both of them tasted it and it was fine to them. I tasted Shelly’s, and hers was fine. We swapped and all was well. Everything else was fine. I like the sliced pickled ginger.

That night Kathy got Sarah, so Shelly dragged me to her room. Let’s hear it for hot Sake. I’m glad Ralph was upstairs; we were noisy! In the morning she did it to me again, taking me to such a dreamy, steamy place, riding me, riding me to an intense orgasm and sweeping me away again.

Almost like being in two worlds -- filled with energy and focus, getting so much done, and then slipping into their arms and into that other world, so soft, so comforting.

The powers that be weren’t sure about the location thing in Grapevine, bitching of increased computational load at their end. Didn’t make sense until I talked it out with the Prof. We met with three folks from information technology (IT) and admin. I told them that if I was designing the system, I’d be recording the identification number of the reader that returned the desired student tag, and later translate that number to a text string for location. Right? Nodding heads, and one of them even said that was the problem, that lookup. Okay, I understand that -- so let’s push that lookup out into the clients! That solves a bunch of problems -- it gets rid of the computation involved in the lookup, and also shortens the amount of data to be transferred. Looks back and forth among them. Look, I told them, we host that table on your systems, that way you can deliver different versions depending on network, port, building, and whatever else you want it to depend on, right? They smiled and nodded.

But they still wanted some of the info held closely. Fine -- I’ll write the code with the Prof, you guys verify it however you want. The only thing exposed will be the APIs (interfaces). They bought off on that. Okay, send the specs to the Prof and me, and we’ll do it. You want to make our lives easier and minimize how many times we bug you? Yes, they wanted to do that. Okay, send us the code you’re running now, so we can get a flavor of how things work. More looks back and forth. Look, talk to the Prof. We’ve been down this road before -- only he and I look at the stuff. And we had, last year, with two of the same three people.

Gak, no wonder they were having problems! When we looked at their code, and after we stopped laughing, it was hard for us to think up with slower, less efficient ways of doing things. And yes, my assumption was correct -- they stored a reader number and translated that.

And looking at their code told us they did indeed use different versions of the translation tables. The whole set were available in a directory on the Prof’s side of the network -- we snarfed copies.

Holy shit! Using the “student” translate tables on my location returned the quad I was in. Using the “admin” tables, I got a room number! Okay, pilfer the student table and show me all the codes that map onto the text identifying our quad. Eight codes! Okay, six rooms plus the entry and exit points.

And the reader numbers were all over the place, not at all consecutive -- which meant they’d had to do a mapping of reader numbers to location, a walkthrough, to generate the tables. So you can’t do range checks to determine location. And as the Prof reminds me, since the mapping was an operation involving people, it’s probably got errors in it. But that’s for later.

The individual location lookup returned a bunch of stuff, including some fields that weren’t documented. Looking at a few records for folks in our quad (I had their student numbers), I guessed that one field was temperature in degrees C times 10 as a 16 bit integer.

Wrote a quick hack to slurp the database and plot temperatures. Most fell into a pretty nominal range. Started looking at outliers. Really cool ones were outside. Slightly warmer ones tended to be in pairs (one group of 3 in the grey building)...

Shelly came by, it was our night together. I showed her what I was doing, without spilling the beans about by-room location. Weird -- one temperature showed a little lower, like 1.6 degrees C. And that one was Kathy!

That’s when Shelly decided I was working too hard and needed some rest. I got rest, after a while...

Two days later when I looked at temps again, Kathy showed nominal. Rats -- didn’t have any hardcopy from the other night. Oh well. Not important.

Ralph got his gadgets working. Together with the translate tables, we confirmed that the “new” system tracked us to room numbers in the dorms, to classrooms, but still only did portions of the library to the floor level. So we were safe in the stacks, we thought.

Kathy, Sarah, and I were still “close.” So were Shelly and I. Shelly and Sarah talked. Shelly and Kathy? Not a clue.

One of the other things going on were the SATs, the silly aptitude tests. We’d taken them last year, but some bright bulb decided we should all take them again. Pain in the ass! We did intense prep and practice sessions for two weeks leading up to the tests. Did the tests, and had a party that night. Sarah and I ended up together for a glorious night. The next morning we saw an incredibly satiated Sam leaving Kathy’s room! She saw us, and gave us a look that was so steamy!

Sarah and I were worried we’d have a three-way rotation now, but that didn’t happen. We had some schedule shifts, and a couple of days a week Kathy would grab one of us (Sarah, Sam, or me) for a brief spell in the afternoon. Those were so intense, so dreamy!

The bunch of us in the quad carried Ralph’s tracking gadgets around for a few days. Conclusion: they updated everyone’s position every two seconds. Holy shit!

Oh we did find some bugs in their mapping. One classroom returned the string “Morgue.” I had the Prof point that one out. They said they’d fix it and push a new database out to users.

And we were ready when they did it, a hack watching their servers. They only dropped their pants for a few minutes, but when you’ve got gigabit connections, we managed to suck out a whole lot of stuff for later perusal. Oh, the text string “Morgue” was nowhere to be found in the new tables.

We pushed the location update out through Grapevine and it was a big hit.

Hansel and Gretel

Every two seconds... Every two seconds you update everybody’s position. Well, you sweep through all readers every two seconds and update the database. Or, in the real world, you try to. Designing systems on paper is easy. Making them robust in the real world is different. The bracelets didn’t work if you were in the pool, in some of the labs, had your tag underwater, like in the bathtub or even washing your hands, sitting in a metal-walled toilet stall in someplace like the library, or were off-campus. Individual records carried a current location and a last location field, plus some time stamps, last good temperature, stuff like that. If someone wasn’t moving on an update cycle, last equals current, update temp and timestamps. Oh, if reported temp changes by more than some delta, record that change. Typically if someone goes off-campus, the last good loc is a portal, one of the exits, with current loc set to -1. If they’re in the tub or otherwise not readable, current loc gets set to -1. If they come back live with the old loc, squash the -1 and keep going. Makes sense.

Back to the APIs, the interfaces. I’m supposed to feed the location lookup method a zero in one field. What happens if I feed it something else? What do you think of 3, pig? It throws an exception. Okay, try negative 1024 just for grins. Oh my! Instead of returning a record of type location_record, I get a list of 1024 records of type location_record! Save that! Since I was looking up me, I now had the last 1024 different locations I’d been tracked to; that spanned a few days!

Oho! Hansel and Gretel -- the breadcrumb trick! I took a slow walk around the floor as I thought about this stuff, three seconds between steps, visiting folks, or visiting their rooms, as our doors don’t lock unless we lock them from the inside. Dump the data -- okay, receivers in the rooms, portals to the quad, the seating areas between quads, elevator areas, and stairways. Where’s Ralph? Upstairs already; better not bug him!

Over the next few days I worked out more of a sensor map. I walked different routes. I did some data mining and threw together a hack to build connections -- what transitions appeared, going from place to place. Oh, I also did a shitload of classwork, my creativity and energy recharged by spending nights in someone’s arms.

Oh the stuff I saw -- saw but didn’t share -- especially the maps of the sealed-off part of campus, the stories those tables told, of kids going from labeled wards to holding cells...

Weirdies in the data, too... Tried doing some coloring tricks and overlays, displaying the data on more normal-looking maps. Every so often, my hack threw a weird exception. Dig, dig, dig. Okay, it’s barfing on Kathy. Why? Pull up the last 4096 records on her. Weird duplicate records! Well, almost duplicate -- records with time stamps differing by a few hours. Three of those pairs in the last two weeks. But from what I understood of the data collection process, those records shouldn’t be there!

I’d not seen the actual code involved in collection; I was making educated guesses, figuring out what I’d do if I was writing it. I wanted to look at the data in ways the existing APIs didn’t support. So I did an overnight data-mining job which resulted in a 2 gigabyte data file on my server, containing everything from the start of the term to when the operation completed at about four in the morning.

Did some interesting slicing and dicing on the data.

And learned more than I wanted to know. Looking at temperature changes, one set of records stood out, so I extracted them for further perusal. Collections of magnetic domains on a spinning platter, aggregated into bits and bytes, into fields in a data structure.

Abstractions.

Yet those abstractions can still pack an emotional punch. I saw the last record first, then backed up through the dataset for that unknown individual to a nominal temperature point and read forward in time, looking at locations. I looked at the maps the connection data had put together to get bearings.

It happened in the pink part of campus, the psych ward. Movement from a classroom to a first holding room, to a second holding room, to a conference room, to another holding room. Temperature elevating -- exertion? I didn’t want to think of why. Motion out one building to another building to another holding/observation room (“Holding-Observation 16A”).

And at 11:42 that night, the recorded temperature started to drop. By one in the morning, the temperature had dropped below 30 degrees C, 86 degrees F. More motion, to various locations in medical, and then to another holding area in the basement of a building. That was the last record for that individual.

I had watched someone die.

I flushed the code. I started a cleanup/backup cycle, put on my coat, and left the building.

I walked outside, hands in my pockets, cold wind stinging my face, my ears, streaking tears across my cheeks.

Looked up into the sky, a sky full of stars. When it’s clear and the moon isn’t up, the night sky can be spectacular. I felt alone. And thought about the mysterious person who died that night.

While part of me struggled with that, the thought of dying, alone locked in a room, another part of me wondered how alone they were. I could see sketches of the code to pull together a graphical map and populate it.

What did his/her parents think? Was that kid banished here, like Kenny? He’d been so bitter. He admitted he used drugs, but denied it had been a problem. To him, the problem had been his parents. If he needed or wanted something material, they could provide it. Love? Warmth? Sitting down and talking? Doesn’t come from catalogues.

To die alone, locked in a room... The stars were so far away.

Something else I’ll have to hold inside, witnessing the digital echoes of the passing of a life.

So much of that went on here, so much held inside. Sam told us once about Japanese culture, the difference between the face you show others, and the face you show nobody. So many kids, smiling and laughing on the outside, with these huge fucking scars underneath the smiles. The lucky ones were scarred -- that indicated the trauma was over and some healing had taken place. Others carried gaping wounds. Compensation by working so hard? I thought of Kathy’s old quad, six kids so quiet and focused. Another way of running from problems, avoiding pain? Sarah, the shit her parents were putting her through.

But I had friends -- Sarah, Ralph, Shelly, Kathy. Sam, too.

I will not let them be alone; I will be there for them, helping as I can. That’s something I can do. Be there for others, and hope that when and if the time comes, others will be there for me.

Kathy, holding me the night I found out about Chris. Sarah going with me to DC. I could smile a little, and stand up straighter. They’d been there for me. Giving without asking.

I walked back to the dorm and up the stairs. I sat in the vestibule for a while, looking out at the stars. Almost two in the morning, I went back to my room.

Almost turned on the light, but in the very dim light from the hallway I could see my bed was occupied -- Shelly. I washed up, running hot water over my hands, washing my face with hot water to warm up before crawling in with her. Still, she murmured, “Cold!” when I snuggled up. I held her, kissed her neck, and went to sleep.

She held me in the morning. I think I cried; I’m not sure. I was still somewhat shaken up, and so was Shelly, by osmosis I guess.

I was in somewhat of a funk for a few days. The whole thing gave me a better appreciation for the value of information, and the price of having access to too much information. Well, sort of. I was split on some of the issues. No, people didn’t need access to a lot of this stuff. Allowing the individual to “own” their information, and decide who got access was a good idea.

Yet -- Sed quis custodiet ipsos custodes? Who will guard the guardians? Juvenal, the Sixth Satire. What was my role? My responsibility? My responsibility to whom? To my fellow students? My friends? The school? Society? The person who died in Holding-Observation 16A?

One thing I learned -- be careful when you start flipping over rocks; you may not be prepared for what you find.

I’ve got good friends; they worked at cheering me (us) up. I’m kind of glad things were tangled as usual. Sarah had gotten another bitchy e-mail from her mom. We didn’t know the contents, just the effect they’d had. Shelly was in a funk, I’m not sure why. Ralph, Kathy, and Sam seemed to be on even keels. But we all helped each other, tried to cheer each other up.

We were planning for our Thanksgiving getaway. Ralph and his girlfriend were going off to his parent’s place outside Phoenix for the week. When I queried Ralph about it he said it was cool, and he’d be taking delivery on a bunch of tracker boards. That left Sam, Kathy, Shelly, Sarah, and me going to Whistler. At dinner one night Ralph asked if we were going to take another guy. When the ladies looked at each other and him questioningly, he shrugged and said he wanted me to return alive. We all laughed, and Sarah said they’d take really good care of me...

Kathy applied her version of The Cure, holding me and comforting me. I woke up in her arms feeling almost newborn. The problems were still there, but they weren’t the top of my list; I needed to focus on things I could change. Taking responsibility for the weather is the path to madness.

The next night, Friday, Shelly did her best to cure me, and herself. She held me and squeezed me until I was helpless, then inflamed and rode me. Saturday morning was a repeat, only slower and more intense, taking me to an incredible place afterwards, wrapped up in her.

But when we wake up, it’s to the real world. And I woke alone in my bed, and with a tremendous wet spot! Most honorably acquired, that spot, but it meant extra work.

I dressed and hustled downstairs to pick up clean bedding from the laundry supply room before I stripped the bed. You can guess how I learned to check first... Clean sheets and mattress pad in hand, I stripped the old ones off and took them to the laundry. I change my sheets every few weeks, usually prompted by similarly intense activity. The mattress was stainproofed; wiped it down with a washcloth, dried it and left to let things air out for a while.

Spent part of the day tutoring some kids on Java. Decided I’d better make my bed before dinner.

I chuckled to myself, then sighed. Occasionally when Shelly rode me, she drenched me. Of course when we were in her bed, she put a towel under me... And I’d told her about that, something I’d learned at Cannes. Which one had it been? I couldn’t remember. She put a towel under me, going side-to-side on the bed, teased me and rode me. And as I got close, she grasped the ends of the towel, pulling, squeezing us together even more. Talk about popping my cork! When I got back from Cannes, I told Sarah about it, and both she and Shelly had to see if it worked... It did, and they liked it as well!

Doing the head of the bed, don’t know why, but I thought I saw something on part of the headboard, on the back of the headboard toward the wall. Reached up and felt something, something fairly small. Flopped on my back, but I couldn’t see what it was; there was less than an inch between the headboard and the wall. Rummaged in the bathroom for a small mirror. I had a flashlight in each nights