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=All I Have Left of Her=
==Chapter 1 - Not Working Out Well==
Somewhere in the Special Little Sparks school, a student flailed awkwardly, trying to get their balance back... then fell down.

Teacher Lucy sighed a little, then glanced over to Principal Maurice. "As you can see, they're absolute complete neophytes at moving their bodies in such an unusual way. Perhaps we should give up on trying to bring in the Y'tole Academy. Maybe ballet classes?" She rubbed the tiny nose on her muzzle, the sign of situation she didn't enjoy.

Maurice sighed a little. "Don't look at me, the people on top got mesmerised by that wackadoodle African dance and now they want some of it in our curriculum." He scratched his head a little, then realised... he was losing even more hair trying to make the impossible happen. "They're going to just look at our students and walk away at this rate... Anyway... I noticed we're short of one student here?"

Teacher Lucy frowned. "That would be Elliot Manners, sir. he's got some serious problems with moving around, so we didn't even bother with trying with him... He's probably on his way home by now."

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Elliot closed his eyes and took a deep breath as the jalopy slowly and safely got him home, his mind thinking about this and that... he was indeed the clumsiest child at Special Little Sparks, regularly falling into a bundle and sitting up on the floor. He laughed a lot about it, but it did hurt a little watching folks walk or hop around happily like it was the most ordinary thing.

There had been one moment where he'd felt exactly like that... He glanced up and brushed at the blue ribbon he kept tied in his hair. The faint scent of vanilla wafted from the ribbon and into his nose.

He missed Vanilla a lot.

----------------------------

Seamus Arendt took a deep breath... "Well folks, we're here. Gdanzeland. only the most advanced country in this part of Africa. Would you take a look at all this rustic beauty..."
Bellamy Arendt frowned. "You know how much I hate military juntas, right? every possible thing wrong with-"

Seamus laughed a little and cupped Bellamy's mouth as a patrol walked past, giving 'another tourist' a dirty look. He did this for five long minutes before sighing and letting go. "Please, don't advertise your opinions here. we don't know what they might do...."

Aymee Ichigo rolled her eyes. "You lot are like kids. we're going to create a diplomatic incident sooner or later at this rate. Anyways... have you guys thought of anything to occupy our little interloper?" She motioned to somewhere behind herself at where Elliot Manners was meant to be tagging along.

Seamus made a small show of trying to formulate an answer several different ways. Eventually, however he raised a point. "I think he's found something. He's not there."

Aymee blinked hard and whipped around. The boy had wandered off. "OF ALL THE COTTON PICKING-"

------------
Everything around him felt different.

Elliot carefully brushed his fingers across a carefully knitted carpet, watching the crowds swell and ebb. A thousand and one scents plyed across his nose. It hadn't been this marked back home... There was a sort of commotion brewing up nearby. a Gdanzeland patrol pointing around furiously as if finding someone.'

There was a young lady looking around panickedly. Elliot put two and two together and looked around. "Over here," he hissed...

-----------------------
The patrol cased the place for what seemed like several long minutes, eventually giving up and moving on...

Elliot winced a little. he had made the mistake of assuming this basket was roomy. It was, but once you shared it with an adult, it wasn't...

To her credit, the lady realised this fast as well and quickly decamped from the basket after a few cursory glances out of it, proceeding to help Elliot out as well.

He sniffed the hand that she had grabbed a hold of. She smelt of something... sweet. nice.

The lady gritted her teeth. "Honestly, all that fuss for two mangoes?" She cursed a little, then blinked. "Erm... thanks for helping me out there.... Mr... erm..."'

Elliot grinned, partly to hide his horror at having assisted a theft. "Elliot. Name Elliot. you are?"

The mischievious thief laughed. "Oh, I'm Van'iia. That's what everyone calls me in the dance troupe."

Elliot gave a faint 'whistle. "So not a thief, Miss Vanilla. Not normally, anyway."

Van'iia facepalmed and hissed. "Van'iia, not Vanilla, little boy. Vanilla is the nice smelling thing, I'm Van'iia."

Elliot nodded quickly as if he understood this. "Okies, Vanilla!" Poor Elliot still had problems with pronouncing certain words, and would often wind up with some hilarious names for folks. "Uncle Seamy" and "Uncle Belly" were all too familiar with it and had resigned themselves to being called such by Elliot (though Seamus raged whenever Marcus or Aymee teased him with it)

The pixie-faced woman gritted her teeth.... "You're not very smart, are you?"

Elliot gave a self-deprecating laugh. "Me? Smart? Never."

Van'iia sighed a little. "You're probably not supposed to be on your own. Where are your parents, kid?"

Elliot pointed behind himself. "Mama and Papa. Honeymoon. With Uncle Seamy. Uncle Belly. Aunt Aymee!"

Van'iia made a small show of trying to formulate an answer several different ways. Eventually, however she raised a point. "I think you've wandered off way too far from them, little one."

Elliot blinked hard and whipped around. The boy had indeed wandered off too far from his caretakers. He raked his mind. What would Aunt Aymee say in a situation like this? Oh yes-

"OF ALL THE COTTON PICKING-"

==Chapter 2 - Even a Fish can climb a tree==
Principal Maurice looked away uneasily. He had delivered his report on their efforts to date in preparing for the Y'tole Academy's scouting visit, and it was not looking good for the higher-ups' weird pet project.

They had sent a gentleman with a 'fatal' case of baldness and a last ditch attempt to retain some nobility by growing a small goatee and mustache combo in white. He read through the papers, then thought for a bit... Then, finally, Paul North spoke up.

"Mr Maurice, are you aware of what they do to Y'tole dancers in Gdanzeland these days?" He observed matter of factly.

"I... I'm not really a fan of the World News Network, Paul. What do they do?'

"Murder. Rape.Persecution. Not very pleasant, the junta is." Paul calmly reached for a cup of coffee that had been brewed for his visit and sipped it. "The fact is, this isn't just about being able to sell an education in something that isn't ballet or tapdancing or half a dozen other things the other schools elsewhere have done. We're trying to do them a favor."

"I get that, but why the insistence on getting our kids read in on a few basic steps? Surely if they need the help, they'll lower their standards?"

Paul set the coffee aside. "Oh, Maurice, you fucking imbecile. I've met with the principal of the Academy. She won't bring the Academy curriculum and trainers in if we''re not up to a certain standard. There's not going to be any charity from us. She'll just walk..."

"... is there anything else we can do?"

"Focus on the children we know have extra intelligence in kinesthetics, cut their hours in other classes for the next two weeks or so. It won't matter any more in two weeks anyway." Paul sighed and rubbed his head. Being Paul North hadn't made things easier for him, had it?

-----------------------------------------

After a fruitless search for the rest of his group, Van'iia had just given up and dragged Elliot along.

Elliot gave a small eep. "Where are we going, Vanilla?"

Van'iia sighed. "You think I'm going to let a foreigner kid wander on their own here? you're one heck of a target. Have a little more caution."

Elliot looked down a little. "Oh. okay, Vanilla."

"AND FOR THE LAST TIME, IT'S VAN'IIA, not VANILLA!"

Van'iia eventually got to a small inn and started climbing the stairs along the outside, Elliot stumbling behind. She took a deep breath. "Now I should warn you, my brothers are a total bunch of utter nincompoops."

Elliot smiled. "Nincom-nin-nincom-.... idiots? FRIENDS!" As if to emphasise this point, the first thing flying out the door was a piece of clothing that landed on Elliot's face. "Can't see. Suddenly night?"

Van'iia walked right into a room full of young boys having a sort of clothes fight. She just stood there for what seemed like a long while... then screamed. "Stop screwing around with your costumes! We're going to need them in a few hours, and I don't have time to mend a tonne of tears!"

... boy, that stopped it quickly.

An wizened old man slowly walked out from amongst the chaos as the boys started tidying up in fear. "Ah, Van'iia... how goes the preparations for our performance?"

Van'iia scowled as she set down the mangoes she had pilfered on a table near one of the windows of the inn room. It was clearly the type of room you booked if you had a lot of people in a group and privacy wasn't an issue. There was an adjoining room that the old man had come out of, but that was probably the only concession to privacy this lot was getting.

Van'iia didn't sound happy. "The rains might be coming in. We might have to delay final prep till we're sure there aren't anymore postponements or cancellations, papa."

The old man considered this. "... it's okay, isn't it? a little more time for the boys to enjoy life won't hurt them."

There was a flicker of ... something... in Van'iia's face. "It won't... you know, papa-"

The old man cut her off abruptly with a wave of his hand. "Not in front of guests. And who might you be?

Elliot had elected himself Protector of The Mangoes and was busy standing on the table, shuffling the mangoes out of reach from Van'iia's brothers. He blinked and lost his footing on hearing the old man's query. "ow! erm... Elliot, sir. Elliot Manners. Pleased. Meet you."

The old man reached a gnarled hand out and rubbed Elliot's warm brown hair. "Manners.. indeed... quite a fitting name. What a polite young boy... Call me... G'in."

Elliot squealed and nodded. "Old man G'in!"

G'in winced and looked over at Van'iia. "Is it possible that I've made an error of judgement here?"

Van'iia is hunched over, collecting randomly strewn outfits. "... You should see what he calls me, papa. Vanilla. VANILLA. Like I'm some sort of ice cream flavor."

G'in stared blankly.... then he laughed. a booming, loud laugh. The kind that said he was going to enjoy having it at Van'iia's expense.
------------------------
Eventually, they'd worked out a plan - Elliot would hang out with the dance troupe and watch them practice, relax, act like general idiots, and stuff. Just as well too - no sooner had Van'iia put down the phone after ordering an extra meal for Elliot that the rains began.

Van'iia cussed. "Which idiot scheduled opening this marketplace in the midst of a monsoon season? This is just a waste of our money."

G'in looked up from dozing in one corner, before motioning to one of the boys to do a dance step differently. "Oh, you mean the money that the junta agreed to foot for every single day they delayed our performance. Lighten up, Van'iia."

Van'iia had a slight edge to her words next. "Does it matter? we do the things the junta want us to do, then we vanish into the darkness like we don't matter until they want to trot us out for 'the tourists' again."

Elliot looked up from watching the boys perform some sort of dance that was more reminiscent of people hurtling through the air than any dance he'd seen back home. There was a certain frisson in the air... he should do something about it... He thrust a hand into the air. "VANILLA! Teach me? Dance?"

Van'iia opened her mouth to protest, then thought about how this supposedly clumsy boy had managed to evade a dozen outstretched paws and kept the mangoes safe from her brothers... Besides, anything to diffuse the tension that was building up in this room... "Sure, Elliot. and again, my name is ... =sigh= oh forget it you're going to screw it up again."
-------------------------------------------------

Elliot took the same spot he always did, in the middle of the lawn, carefully checking the ribbon in his hair was still tightly done up. It was practice, he didn't need to wear anything fancier than the shorts and shirt he always wore in the spring warmth. Assuming the position as Van'iia had taught him to... and...

Elliot started bounding around the grass, bare feet sending up an occasional burst of green, as he closed his eyes, focusing entirely on the Y'tole variant he'd been taught to the sounds of the Gdanzeland monsoons.And of the fish that refused to believe that it could not climb a tree...
--------------------------------------------------

Elliot crashed out yet again. This was, what, the 87th time? He began to regret even imagining he could have the same grace as the boys and their sister. Always that same shift of the feet, causing him to keep falling.

Elliot winced a little on the wooden floor as he looked up. The boys had all decided to take a nap in their bunks, sprawled out in a wild assortment of positions. Two of them were even sharing one, to the regret of one of them, as a foot kept being shoved into his face in mid sleep. Elliot was still the only one dancing in this room.

No, that wasn't true. Van'iia had danced along with him, showing him the steps and then having him try it, one more step after the other. It was just that this particular step he wanted to emulate had been... frustrating.

Van'iia sat down next to Elliot, sweating profusely from the damp air and exertion. "Right, let's... just rest a little, okay? you've done pretty well for Mr Clumsy, haven't you?"

Elliot nodded slowly, sitting up. "Clumsy. Managing. Fear. Limit reached." He looked away, as if ashamed of telling Van'iia that he was about to give up.

Van'iia frowned a little... "... Elliot, could you go out to the window and tell me what you hear?" She motioned to the window.

Elliot nodded and tiredly walked over to the table, where the mangoes still sat. He strained his ears a little... some sort of tiny pigs grunting away... "Weird... Tiny pigs?"

Van'iia laughed. "No, body, those are mudskippers... they're a type of fish... you'll find them in the trees sometimes."

Elliot nodded as if this was a matter of fact... then paused. "But fish can't climb trees!"

Van'iia walked over and looked out, carefully wrapping herself behind Elliot. The scent was back again, stronger than ever. The softness was a new sensation though - almost like mama, but younger... "Oh, there's one?" She pointed at a mudskipper, its weird face puffing a little and letting a grunt out.

Elliot yelped. "several floors up. How? Fish can't climb trees!"

Van'iia deadpanned. "And who said that?"

Elliot thought about a lot of people... "Teachers. mama. papa. friends at school. even janitor once laughed when I said fish could climb trees."

Van'iia giggled. "And look who said 'watch me'. That titchy little fella grunting in victory..."

She pointed at the midskipper as it hopped away to accost a potential mate. "I want you to be that mudskipper. don't ever let anyone tell you you can't do something you've set yourself to doing. You've proven yourself more agile than you thought yourself to be. Finishing all 100 basic steps should be an easy thing... just keep practicing... and maybe..."

Van'iia let go of Elliot and backed away. "Maybe you can do this too. Call it homework, maybe?" And with that, she began twirling with beauty again.
----------------------

Elliot sweated a little. This was the step he'd screwed up over and over... foot lifted slightly in the air and -

he put it down right where it was supposed to. imperceptibly. like two keyframes stuck back to back, with nothing in between.

Elliot whooped a little. This was a small victory... now he just had to -OOF-

Elliot wound up staring at the blue spring sky, panting. Oh yes, he'd managed the 87th step, but the other 12 were going to take some more time clearly. He blinked slowly, then aimed a finger gun at the sky and shot it, as if performing a rifle salute. "Vanilla. Getting better. Happy. Can see?"

==Chapter 3 - Final Curtain Call==
"So, hit us with it. Good news, bad news." Aymee Ichigo leaned back in her sofa and watched Seamus Arendt with feigned disinterest.

Seamus scratched his head. "Something's jamming the internal locator in Elliot, so we haven't been able to do more than combing the streets and showing his photo to random folks." He paused... "But whoever they're hanging with seems to be doing an AMAZING job. Three days so far without a blackout." He fished out his communicator and showed a screen, still pinging Elliot's vitals including his blackout episodes. Not a single one had occurred in the three days he'd been missing.

The only point of concern showing was how Elliot was down to his last 24 hours of charge. They would have to locate him soon or there would be hell to pay. He briefly wondered if he could just fab a new Elliot unit and pass it off to Marcus, then shook his head. He'd notice alright. and then he'd ask questions. and then there'd be hell to pay.

"I'd love to ask how they managed that without even knowing his circumstances. Even I can't go longer than a day between his episodes." Aymee sighed. "... goddamn rainstorm. Thank God it's ending in the morning."
-----------------------------

Elliot woke up, unable to sleep. Perhaps it was the mudskippers. They had been nice as an object lesson in something, but once you were done you were left with a lot of noisy bastards on the trees. Elliot sat up a little and looked around. It was simply adorable how Van'iia's little brothers were so excited for the morning's performance, they'd even fallen asleep in their dance costumes.

"... but where does it end, G'in?" Van'iia's voice came from behind the separate room. Elliot blinked a little and walked over to peek through the keyhole. Van'iia was standing still, totally stark naked, as she kept talking. "We take one of them out, and another bastard just fills the gap. it's like a terrible game of whack-a-mole..."

Gin walked over to Van'iia and did some adjustments of some sort. "Well, my dear, we'll just have to kill them down to the last one. Just like I promised you all those years ago."

Van'iia sputtered. "That wasn't me you promised. You need to get it out of your head... I'm not your wife, G'in... I'm just your little revenge playtool."

G'in blinked and stood back. "God, I wish this detonator design wasn't so slow burning... having to have an argument everytime we do this is killing me, Van'iia... Look, I promise you, just a few more stunts like this and I'll let the rest of the people fight this war. We'll return to my home and you won't ever have to do this again..."

Van'iia paused as she considered this. "With fewer children, please, You know how having all these guys running around underfoot drives me a little... crazy."

G'in nodded quickly. "Just you and me, dear. You won't ever have another rugrat running wild."

Elliot blinked a little as he backed away from the door. Adults had peculiar discussions. Children were best seen and not heard, and certainly not seen hearing them surreptitiously. He went back to sleep.


Elliot was the last to wake up in the morning. It really helped that the music was sudden and that it was very loud. He yelped as he fell out of bed, then looked around as the boys were taking turns to wipe down their faces. "Oh yes.... it's finally happening, isn't it? The performance, I mean"

Van'iia nodded. She was dressed in her own dancer costume as well, no sign of exhaustion from the previous night's nocturnal activities on her face. "Yes, we're going to put on an unforgettable show, something nobody will forget!"

Elliot looked up in awe... then deadpanned as soon as Van'iia opened her mouth. "Really, Vanilla?"

Van'iia clapped a hand to her jewelled forehead, wincing. "Oh no, it's happening, isn't it? being around an idiot makes one stupid."

The booming laugh of Old Man G'in sounded in response. "No, you're just beginning to like him!" He smiled as he walked over to the two of them, clearly having time in between every bit of final prep to sass them.

Van'iia scowled a little, but there was a slight fondness in that tweak of one corner of her lips. "DO NOT."

Elliot took a deep breath again. That sweet scent again. coupled with the picture of beauty in front of him... Perhaps he was still too young to know anything about love but... "I like you, Vanilla. Can I come along and watch your performance?"

Old Man G'in shifted himself slowly behind Elliot, shaking his head as he looked at Van'iia. Van'iia shook her head. "Oh no, honey, you can't come along. not where we're going... but you can be with us in spirit" She glanced up at her headdress... one ornament less wouldn't be noticed.

One hand went up in the ornate decorations and fished in it.... a pale blue ribbon came out, and Van'iia carefully tied it to Elliot's hair. "Keep practicing. do the homework I gave you. One day I'll be back to check on it."

Elliot nodded. "I will. wow, this ribbon really looks-"


Seamus blinked and tapped his communicator. "Huh, that's funny. the jamming's gone."

Aymee grinned as she drove the rental jeep via manual control with her own hands. "That's good news."

"Aand he's gotten a blackout. a manually induced blackout."

Aymee didn't say a word for a while... "You know, once. JUST ONCE. I'd like my good news to come without any bad news! Anyway, where's that kid? I need to chew him out for making us worry for so long.

Bellamy raised a portable charger.in one hand. "You can do it after we deal with his lack of power, your Highness."

The jeep paused as a truck rumbled past them, gaily decorated in letters that read "J'nn Y'tolo Dancers - State Sanctioned - Trust You Can Rely Upon". They didn't think much of such a truck.


It didn't take long for them to find Elliot with the jamming gone.

"really looks nice. Erm... oh. hey. Uncle Seamy? Uncle Belly? Aunt Aymee?" Elliot finally finished a sentence he'd been shut down in the middle of. He looked around once. blinked. Looked down at the portable induction pad that had been glued to his bare back. "'sup?"

Aymee Ichigo cracked her knuckles. "Now can I punch this annoying little brat for making us worry about him all these days?"

Bellamy looked up from the charger he'd brought along. "Can you hold off for about ten minutes? He won't fully understand the pain till he's had more juice in him."

Aymee groaned, but withdrew her fist. "So... what have you been up to these past few days, little man?"

Elliot thought a little. "Well. I-" He did not get to even start summarizing his dance education when Seamus calmly pushed his tablet against his chest and tapped a few buttons, causing him to fall silent again.

Aymee glared at Seamus. "Seamussss.... reading the fucking room much lately?"

Seamus sat back down. "Oh, relax, you dunhead. it's just a two minute procedure and he wpn't feel or remember a thing. I just need records of his past 120 hours of activity, that's all."
Aymee yelled. "Stop treating the kid like he's machinery, goddammit. Some days, your psychopathy feels like it's only gotten worse rather than better! You could have just put up with his yammering like an ordinary kid."

Seamus looked up. "I prefer precision in my reports, Aymee. You know that's always been one of my worst habits since we joined together as a group. besides, no amount of talking can replicate actual blackbox footage..."

Elliot snapped back to life. "Well, I ran into nice girl. marketplace. she stole two mangoes-"

Aymee wept. "Oh my god, he's become a delinquent!"

Elliot continued as if Aymee hadn't commented. "couldn't find you. stayed with her troupe. learnt some dancing. now you're here. Nothing in between."

Seamus sighed a little. "See what I mean? I'm going to review the recordings while we get back to the hotel. Then we'lre going to pack up and catch our flight out like nothing bad happened to us this trip-"

The room whited out.

==Chapter 4 - Life In A Bubble==
As decapitation strikes go, it was extremely unexpected - and effective. Someone apparently worked out how to smuggle in enough ordnance to wipe out half the Gdanzeland junta. What had been simulatenously a celebration of the opening of a new cheap market for its people and a herald to the return of the old ways after the shock results of the previous election turned into a white-hot bloodbath. A huge char mark was visible from space via satellite, and clearly nobody could have survived the carnage... In theory at least

Seamus was the first to recover from the shock, rubbing his head. His hand rested on something whitish and squeaky... He blinked and looked around. It was some sort of balloon. It had somehow formed around everyone in the entourage. it was slightly warm to the touch, and disconcerting in so many ways... "Sound off, guys?"

"Aymee here."

"Papa, I wanna go home, these crazy people keep getting me into strange situations everytime we go somewhere on holiday.'

"Bellamy. You okay there. bro?"

"Wolfe. And may I say, congratulations on your exoneration." The last remark came not by sound, but by whatever tech the Kindred had foisted onto Seamus as part of his 'investigative parole'.

Seamus sighed. "Thank god. all accounted for." At the same time, he texted a silent reply to Wolfe... "Explain."

The gruff tones of Wolfe came back after a few seconds the same way it had first arrived. "Initial analysis from satellite suggests the same kind of occurence that we accused you of. However, you literally lucked into the effective radius of the explosion. This is not the act of a man guilty of setting bombs. We are in fact amazed as to how you survived. Please enquire further..."

Seamus did exactly that. "So... exactly why are we in a white balloon instead of, you know, dead?"

Aymee groaned a little. "All hail the Emperor, great is his wisdom... I really wasn't going to bring this doodad, but my hubs insisted. this thing here will withstand an unreasonable amount of kinetics and heat the moment it senses that shit coming in to make life miserable for a royal of the Chinajapese empire..."

Wolfe had a pondering tone in his voice. "Interesting, we shall have to pay closer attention to this newcomer than we thought if they could come up with such unique protective technology. Making a note..."

Elliot had gone quiet after his initial whining, as if he'd realised something... "She's dead, isn't she? Big kaboom. Only us in bubble."

Seamus opened his mouth as if to say something, then realised that anything he said would be pointless. Elliot fingered at the ribbon that had been tied into her hair. It was all that he had left of her...

The entire balloon fell slient as death... Then Seamus blinked as his communicator rang. "Hey, Marcus, yeah... I think you've heard about that huge bang that just happened in Gdanzeland. I just want you to know we're all okay. no need to panic. No injuries.... no damage-"

Elliot suddenly started bawling like a child several years younger than his apparent age.

Seamus blinked hard. "Oh, absolutely nothing happened to your son. No hardware or software damage that didn't exist before the trip. honest. I'll even give him a look over when we get back to the office if that worries you... That? I think that might be emotional damage... I know, it's amazing how delicate they can be. Even I'm amazed at Bellamy's work sometimes... I'll call you again when I get a better signal that can run video."

Seamus closed his communicator.... then his eyes. If it hadn't been a matter of his own life and death he wouldn't have gotten anywhere near this accursed place. It was on him that he'd dinged a dent into Elliot.

Elliot sniffled. "We can find her, can't we? You can fix her like you fixed me?"

Seamus sighed. He was hoping his first "Talk" with Elliot would be about the birds and the bees, not... death. Best to rip the bandage off right now. "Oh, Elliot... I'm not a doctor, and this kind of overpressure pulps people. Hell, it'd pulp you too. Sometimes, people just... go away. I know it sounds cruel, but it just means you should treasure the time you have with folks you love more. Can you do that in future?"

Elliot nodded slowly and tried to stop sniffling. "Yes, Uncle Seamus."

Bellamy cheered. "One small win there. Go on, Elliot, call me Uncle Bellamy!"

Elliot giggled a little. "Uncle Belly?"

Bellamy frowned. "Oh come on. is this based off respect or something? Do you not respect me?"

Aymee hrms as she briefly tests the balloon. "Hrm, still too risky. it's still filtering in oxygen but it's still hot enough not to crumble... And for what it's worth, he's always called me Aunt Aymee.

The entire balloon erupted in a swamp of laughter. Everyone joined in except...

Bellamy yelled in the dim glow of the balloon walls. "I am feeling so neglected and disrespected here."

==Chapter 5 - Diamond In The Rough==
'Shows promise, but not good enough for full training yet."
"Terrible. has the agility of a rock leaving someone's hand."
"Who let this clown audition?"

Another child burst into tears as they fled the gymnasium. The spite levelled at them came from a wizened old woman perched slightly on a cane. "Mother Ammi, please... these are just young children. You shouldn't be so hard on them." One of her minders pleaded as another ego was shattered.

"When I was their age, I wasn't scarfing burgers. I was weaving through the grasslands and the woods with the goats and the sheep and the... " Ammi tossed her hand up. "They have some basics, but it will be a very long time before we have anything like suitable material to train into a Y'tole dancer of any kind. Figure... ten years?"

Paul North looked away. "I... I'm sorry, Ammi, I tried my best to get you good students."

Ammi still looked cross, but there was a different tone in her voice. "You're a good man, Paul. I know what you're up to here.... but that doesn't mean I can just slack off and demand less like it was some sort of ... State-Sanctioned Y'tole class. We'll put in some classes to help them brush up their flexibility and speed, but as I said... I can't find anyone worth the effort of setting up here.

Paul frowned and looked as Ammi pointed at another child and issued a blunt silent "get out" sign. "And how many children like that would you need?"

Ammi raised a single finger.

"One hundred? but that's kind of unreasonable!"

"Not one hundred. Just... one child. that can make all the difference between us teaching just basic callisthenics and us bringing the entire curricula of the Academy to bear on this place.

Paul North sighed limply. "Well, before you go back into your usual place of exile... I don't suppose I could interest you in a tour of the local area, maybe raise more plus points for a Academy here?"

Ammi frowned. "I'm not likely to change my mind. but I've heard Little Sanctuary has this most delectable ice cream that no other place in the world has... Not that it would change my mind. don't think you can use it as a bribe."

Paul quickly walked away. "I'll get a car, I know just who makes the best in Little Sanctuary. and no, it's not a business."
=====================

Six months. Sink or Swim.

Elliot smiled a little as he opened the drawers of his cupboard. Finding the materials had been a pain, as had trying to get someone to sew him a properly specified Y'tole Emma dress... There was only one person he was going to impress today, and she wasn't even here anymore... He calmly donned the dress, swishing it slightly, possibly inviting jeers about his orientation if anyone walked in.

He didn't care. he wasn't the first male to take the role of an Emma in an Y'tole dance. he didn't know what his dad would say, but he had always supported him in so many endeavours. His mom had hugged him and told him to go for it on the lawn. "I'm making Rocky Road for dessert today. Whether you come back with your nose held high or crying a mess into your dress... We're having Rocky Road after dinner."

Elliot walked out onto the lawn, pausing to check that his feet had been properly wrapped. Shoes hadn't worked, in the end - he needed to feel the ground beneath him every step. To be loved by the soil, much as he had been loved by so many people around him. He closed his eyes. He didn't need them.

Mouth the words, assume the position... for a second he could fool them all into believing he truly belonged to this art.

And then another second, and another...

======================
Marcus Manners and Julie Manners had every right to be concerned. Their good friends had done all the checks and he was undamaged. That was hardware wise. Software wise... it didn't look good. He was curled up in his bed, refusing to engage in anything remotely resembling social interaction. "I should talk to him." Marcus offered...

Julie cut him off. "Honey, I love you, but I think this is one of those times where I have to do the job." She took a deep breath and walked over, sitting down next to Elliot. "Hey.... did you have fun in Gdanzeland? do you want to talk about it?"

Elliot didn't want to talk about it.... until he sniffed. "Did you bake something, mama?"

Julie nodded and gave Elliot a hug. "It was a welcome home gift. I learnt so much about baking while I was down at Bueno Vegas I wanted to share the love with you."

Elliot buried his head in Julie's apron. "She smelt like this. She was beautiful. She taught me how to dance a little..."

Julie gave a look of interest. A first girlfriend for this little boy? He was growing up so fast... "And you exchanged addresses? got Pen-pally?"

Elliot looked up, a clear feeling of total lousiness on his face. "Well, she blew up, across an entire city block.don't know how to address letter anymore. for her hand to hold? or her eye to see? spread out a lot..." There was an attempt at humor, but Julie could see a tear form on Elliot's face.

Marcus started cussing. "SON OF A-"

Julie quickly shot Marcus a look. It spoke of dire consequences should Elliot learn how to cuss in that certain way. Marcus excused himself, yelling as he went down the corridor to make a private phone call. "THEY SHOULD HAVE LED WITH THAT. IDIOTS."

Julie frowned. "I guess the Vanilla buns are out of the question?"

===============
They had not been out of the question. in fact, Elliot had started finding himself drawn to a million things that smelled of vanillin. It didn't even have to be the fancy real stuff that came out of an actual pod... His mom took a dim view of people who insisted on the real thing, saying "What I'm saying is, once you push the reactions that happen in an oven onto vanilla, it all looks the same.... would you like one now?"

Marcus calmly sat down and chewed on a vanilla bun. He appreciated that it wasn't easy to make them every other day, but his mom had insisted. She had also insisted that he 'do his homework', just as he had promised Van'iia. When he had shown her examples of the dress he would need to wear for a full performance, she had only briefly had a double take. Boys didn't wear dresses, supposedly.

When they were playing the part of an Emma in a Y'tole dance, apparently it was normal. Marcus tried to express some concern about letting Elliot get even more effeminate, but Julie had shot him another one of those rare looks. The ones that said "Marcus, I love you, but if you stop this thing from happening, I can become little Elly's mama bear..." She had leaned in closer, as if to silently say "and you don't want mama bear to be angry."

Marcus didn't mind after a while. in fact, the assertiveness she had displayed, the mental acuity she ran with after her spa trip aka full rebuild was refreshing. He'd been busy keeping Little Sanctuary afloat more than usual, but he was really looking forward to having all of that turned on him one day.

And so the days had become a little weird - Julie playing the role of devoted housewife, Marcus being the defacto mayor of the town, and Elliot quietly putting scraps together into what eventually took Julie's breath away. "Are you sure, that you're not a girl, Elly?"

Elliot shook his head furiously. This was a homage to someone he missed, not a cross-dress party costume.
==============
Elliot clapped his hands clean of vanilla dust, breathing it slowly as if it was some forbidden drug that would empower him to do what he would do next. He couldn't possibly keep asking his mama to make vanilla buns as a tribute to someone she'd never even met, it just didn't feel right.

He got up again and walked to the centre of the lawn. Closed his eyes again, assumed the position and... grass sprayed into the sky as he bounded wildly in seemingly impossible ways.

This was a love song for the broken hearted, and he was singing it as softly and as fast as his feet could carry him
==============

Paul North rolled his eyes as he slowly drove his jalopy. He briefly cursed his decision to switch out his luxurious little slice of heaven for this... thing... but people would have raised questions if he'd driven his favorite car in this guise. Everything in Little Sanctuary was the perfection they had carefully charted, built, and rolled out for the benefit of every Arendtcore employee who could move in here... The sun shone through the trees as he glanced behind himself at Mother Ammi and her guards on either side of her. It seemed a shame that she could not find peace anywhere, not even here... Perhaps the Rocky Road the Manners made would-

"Stop the car." Mother Ammi had noticed something.

"But we're almost there..."

Mother Ammi wasn't repeating herself. She opened the door, causing the overly-rententive safety system to kick in and halt the car. Somewhere deep inside Paul North, a psychopath was cursing loudly about idiots opening doors in mid trip. Paul just held a soft 'oof' and smiled. "Something got your eye?"

Mother Ammi had parked herself at the fencing of the Manners house. She was watching intently at a ... young girl? in a festive dress? dancing some sort of Y'tole dance, but it had a grace that none of the children at Special Little Sparks had managed... He peered a little... the psychopath in him idly commented. "Wow, that's not how I expected it to go. our little wooden puppet has become a real live girl?"

Paul North did not appreciate the intrusive thoughts, but that was quickly drowned out by what came next.

Mother Ammi suddenly dropped her cane, displaying an alarming amount of agility as she hopped the fencing. She kept watching Elliot dance, then did the time honored greeting that she used to say so much...

"Ah, a emma. are you looking for an lemme to dance through this moment with?"

Not in English of course, but the native tongue "Ytole came with...

Elliot froze and almost fell over. He knew what he had to say, but he was a little surprised that the person playing the part of the lemme was a old woman, rather than some noble man. Then again, the ship HAD sailed when he decided to dance like an emma, didn't it?

"Yes, let us dance through this moment like .... uhm... every fish matters..." He flubbed it a bit but Mother Ammi was... impressed by his command of the old dance ettiquette. As if powered by a combination of springs and explosives, Ammi suddenly started dancing along, but it was not any of the lemme dance he had seen in Gdanzeland.

Mother Ammi winked. As if to tell Elliot "Go on, challenge me. show me it's not just a rote and blind replay... Surprise me."

===========

Paul calmly walked over to the fence to watch Elliot dance with Mother Ammi. He had had very mixed feelings about the whole show... He was showing Mother Ammi something she wanted to see, but he had based his love for the art on a total lie.

"We should tell him." "Weshouldweshouldweshould." "Delight in ruining a young boy."
Paul shakily reached for his pocket and scarfed some new anti-psychopathy medication his contacts had offered, claiming it was more effective... the voices faded, leaving him to enjoy the odd view of his nephew in a dress dancing with an old woman even as her guards panicked... something about her infirmity.

He was Paul North. Paul North was not someone who would ruin someone's fun randomly.

============

Eventually, the dance ended, leaving Mother Ammi sitting on the grass next to Elliot. She panted weakly. "I haven't had such fun since... my wedding night..."

Elliot blinked slowly... "You danced for him?"

Mother Ammi gently corrected the child. "WITH him. you're not the first male emma I've danced with ever."

Elliot understood the code. "Ah... still enjoying company?"

Ammi stopped breathing for a moment, as if she couldn't bear to let something out. "first thing the junta said was, let's kill all the Y'tole dancers. He apologised and ran off to fight. That... went rather badly." Mother Ammi noticed the ribbon on Elliot's hair. "In fact, he used to wear a ribbon just like THAT. right down to the frill edges."

Elliot seemed suddenly wiser than the youth he looked like. "things to mourn. we have plenty."

Ammi sat up a bit more. 'Oh do grow up a little. the essence of Y'tole dance as a peaceful endeavor is that it's a celebration. Perhaps focus on that, young man? By the way, may I know your name?"

Elliot sat up slowly, little strips of grass covering his dress. "Elliot Manners."

"What a fitting name. And where do you study?"

"Special Little Sparks. Small school. fitted to different children's skills."

Ammi thought about this for a moment... "I take it this was the place you wanted to bring me for Rocky Road ice cream?"

Elliot looked away apologetically. "Mom makes it. But alcoholic. Okay with that?"

Ammi chuckled. "Wow. the same brazen confidence as the son... Paul... when we're done with ice cream here, we're going to have words about how you should have led with this child. Remember how I said I only needed just one child to make the Academy worthwhile?"

Paul sheepishly watched as Mother Ammi's guards rushed to stabilise her and give her back her cane, even though moments ago she had looked like she never needed any of it."Yes, ma'am... perfectly clear as rain everytime you told me."

Mother Ammi reached out a hand to help Elliot get up from the grass. "I think I found the child in question. Now... about that ice cream..."

==Chapter 6 - Kitchen-table issues==
Marcus Manners scratched hs head tiredly as he let his trusty jalopy navigate the long distance between Minnesota's Town Hall. It had been kind of bizarre watching the disjoint between the lovely gated community they had spent so long building up, and the horrendous mess that had been created in the world outside.

The first indignity had occurred just outside as the jalopy acted up slowly while trying to do a parallel park with considerably fewer points of reference. In Little Sanctuary, there were so many things you could latch onto as a reference before you used satnav.... out here, it was a desert. stars on the ground, satnav in the sky. What would have taken two minutes at home now took ten. In fact, he had taken advantage of the limited smarts of the AI and hopped out, before letting it continue struggling.

Marcus had experienced another sort of indignity as he walked into the Conference. There was a lot of opprobium amongst the delegates, and most of it was centred on a whimpering mousy lady. "We are Minnesotans. if we don't stand for independence within our union, we are nothing." "Integration with our enemy? how dare you suggest that. Corporate takeover scum!"

"I... I just thought of all the positive indicators I saw about them and I thought my people would want some of it." the mousy lady peeked out from behind the placard with her name and locale. Mayor Chablis Brissom, of Okachunee District? It was one of the biggest districts in Minnesota after the Despotic Years had screwed up so many things...

Marcus matter of factly walked over, located the seat right next to Mayor Chablis, and sat down. There was a certain advantage in arranging the seats based roughly on the positioning of the districts in Minnesota. This was one of them. A reassuring big hand came down on Chablis' shoulder. She blinked, then looked up. "I wasn't planning on doing lunch out here, but I changed my mind... Lunch?"

Mayor Chablis Brissom whimpered,teared.... then suddenly bawled.

Marcus looked away. "Keep it together, there's potential in this merger." he thought. but loooking at Mayor Chablis virtually turn into a chubby crying mouse was awkward...

=========================

Marcus walked back to the park bench after selecting from the hot dog stand least likely to have actual dog in its hot dogs and sat down next to Brissom. The dimunitive dwarf was clapping her hands a little. "Eat up. I'm sorry it's not crab and oysters."

Chablis laughed a little. "Don't be, I've had crab and oysters all the time for ages!" She bit down on the hotdog and slowly chewed it. "... .... hmm... Greater Minnesotan rat."

Marcus calmly put his own hotdog away and brought out his workbag, his tablet was great for a lot of things, but when it came to governance nothing spoke of power like a leather suitcase. This one was from his own father, a veteran of the pre-Despotic Years where people went whereever they wanted all the time. He fished out a map of the Minnesota Union and his smart tablet. "As you can see, Okachunee District is considerably bigger than Little Sanctuary by a factor of 10. Significantly higher rates of human infant mortality and crime per capita..." He watched Chablis pale and look away slowly. This was a deal that offered nothing to Arendtcore and Little Sanctuary, and in fact saddled them with a whole new bundle of problems. And then there was the biggest deal-killer of them all.

"Little Sanctuary is a Corporate Town. That means everyone in this town works at Arendtcore or one of its subsidiaries or local contractors. No strangers allowed. I know, it feels like some sort of Malt-Eisner setup..."

Mayor Chablis whimpered and looked down. Marcus watched her... good. I want you to fight for it. I want you to prove you deserve to be part of us just as much as you want to be... Show me.

Oh god, was he becoming one of the Arendts? Time to look into psychopathy medication?

The fearful mousiness suddenly broke into a look of determination. "Phase it in. We break Okachunee into five or six smaller districts, and gradually bring them into the fold. I know some of my people are anti-corporate, but it is as they said... judge me not by my name... but by the fruits of my labour."

Marcus fished out his worn copy of The Knowledge. a few flips brought up the exact words that Mayor Chablis had said.

Marcus smiled and extended his hand over to the pint sized brave. "I'll bring your proposal over to the others in my team. let's do a proper lunch and iron out the details to bring Okachunhee into Little Sanctuary."

Mayor Chablis nodded, almost squeaking as her little frame almost bounced while trying to shake Marcus' hand... "Listen... can I have that hotdog if you're not going to eat it? Greater MInnesotan Rat is DELICIOUS."
==============

Marcus idly crossed the Southern gate of the Little Sanctuary Limits as a vandal almost torched his car. The security systems in the fencing worked out this wasn't okay and proceeded to light him up with a few dozen rounds of pain and knockout... he would live, but perhaps he wouldn't be as open to accosting another member of the community. The trip from the gate to his house would take longer from here, but he could use the time to relax.

A giant bipedal black and white cat in an anorak jogged past his car, accompanied by a lanky and clearly tired young man. That man was clearly focused on her ass. Marcus blinked a little, then shrugged. With all the experiments Seamus - ... sorry, Paul North was doing, everything was a possibility.

His car suddenly stopped just shy of the garage of his house. As he looked out, he saw the cause:

A group of people had camped themselves on the lawn, slightly impinging into the same lane space the old AI of the Jalopy had marked for itself virtually. it was not going to take a risk on running them down. He signed and got out.

He started recognizing some folks... There was the African delegation for a school that he had briefly met two days ago. Just three of them actually. Paul North was sitting next to them, half drunk. An empty bowl was in each of their laps, having previously held alcoholic Rocky Road ice cream and.... Well, Elliot was being Elliot, sitting next to an elderly lady in the delegation and somehow prying into her with choice short sentences and syllable words. He was also kind of dressed in an intricate Y'tole Emma dancer's dress... in fact, if you didn't know his swing you'd swear he was indeed a girl

He decided to do the obvious thing you'd do for a girl, walking over and giving Elliot a smooch. "Ohh.... hey, paaapaaa...." The simulated effects of alcohol had been encoded into the "full simulation package" Bellamy had worked on over the years, and right now, it was a perfect mess.... A slurred, half drunken case of child endangerment.

Marcus decided he would have to speak with Julie one day about making non-alcoholic versions of ice cream. Having this happen everytime they had an ice-cream moment in the house was probably grounds for a Child Protectors raid.

"Hey Elliot," Marcus asked, "Where's your mama?"

Elliot smiled."In kitchen. making canapes. sudden dinner party for seven."

Marcus glared over at Paul North. He would be having a major hangover in the morning, but it would be nothing compared to the flaming he was going to give him for commandeering random residents' homes for a celebration, even if said resident worked at the same level as him.

Marcus walked into the house and.... saw Julie sitting down on the sofa, looking extremely tired. "Honey, you okay there?"

Julie looked up and smiled wanly. He rushed over and checked her ear studs - dull brown. just a few inches from shutting down. "They were all having so much fun,,, I stopped looking after myself a bit and... well.... I am feeling t-tired now. Such a ditzzzz,,,,: Julie slurred and stuttered weakly as Marcus scooped her up. "I think I made more than enough for you too... tooo..."

Marcus shushed her. "You're tired, you should rest up." "did I doooo goood?" Marcus smiled.... "Yes dear. yes you did."

Marcus carefully tucked Julie into bed and made sure the induction pad was contacting properly before he stepped back out, pausing at the kitchen to get some thin breads, a few thin slices of something fried in a way that somehow didn't leave it very oily, and a small bowl of Rocky Road.... he stared at the ice cream... at some point, Julie had become more than a basic housework and fucking droid. She kept ducking out occasionally to learn new recipes, and regularly gossiped on the Housewives' channel for tips on housework... He had grown to love her not just for being a wonderful ride in bed, but also someone who held the house up high.

He sighed and walked out. His plans for 'stress relief' tonight were going to have to be cancelled. at least the Rocky Road would get him drunk.
==================
Mother Ammi was leaning on the safety fencing, indulging in some sort of herbal cigarette while slowly eating her bowl of ice-cream. the party had pretty much crashed out, with people strewn all over the grass. Marcus noted with a odd mix of disturbance and curiosity that a bipedal brown and white cat in an anorak - the same one he had passed going home - was now parked on the porch roof,drunk and happy on the overrichness of the house speciality.

He was really going to have to ask Paul North about that as well.

Marcus parked himself next to Mother Ammi and started eating the same way he always did when Julie's Rocky Road was on the menu: ice-cream first."Did you have a good day in Little Sanctuary?"

Ammi took a drag and sighed... it sounded almost post-coital. "The best. I found a dancer with promise - that kid over there..." She motioned to Elliot, who had parked himself ass up in the sky with even less grace than normal. "I had the best ice cream ever.... and I suspect that very soon Paul North will have one more thing to brag about."
Marcus made a mental note to tuck Elliot into bed as well... as for the rest of these dotards, they could damn well get off his lawn in the morning. anyways...

"You seem to be thinking of something." Ammi observed.

"I was thinking.... is it wrong of me to want this better life for everyone?" Marcus asked.

Ammi thought carefully about this, there were so many contexts this could be interpreted through... "Wanting a better life for everyone is a noble cause.... just please be careful about making sure you have enough cloth for the curtains...."

Marcus understood the code and nodded. He rolled a piece of crackling in ohe of the flatbreads and chewed on it, the salty and crispy fat melting as he chewed on it. "God, Julie makes the best crackling."

Ammi nodded. "Yeah, I've heard great things about Greater Minnesotan Rat. it's amazing what you folks can turn it into."

Marcus abruptly crashed out on hearing those words. More precisely, he had a reverie, and it was not a gentle one, as he sat himself down against the fencing before he totally blacked out.
=================

The warm scent of beef. Chicken Drumsticks. Pasta with actual describable meat sauce. Meatloaf. Carnivore's pizza. milkshakes made with actual cow's milk, not some... soy-based sham....

Things he had once eaten as a child and even a teen, before the Despotic Years ruined farming and took chicken and beef stuffs off the menu. He'd heard about families in Little Sanctuary who still occasionally had such meat on hand, but it was a pleasant occasional luxury now, and everyone was eating... rat. True, Arendtcore Foods had stood as a barrier against the potential disease issues such a diet might cause, and they had plenty of ideas on how to turn it into various things, but in the end it was all just... rat

The reverie he was getting this time as a side effect of his premium rejuvenation therapy seemed oddly targeted and intended to hurt him.

"... Mr Manners, are you okay there?" Ammi worried face blurred into view as Marcus woke back up. "You looked like you had a blackout..."

"... we had a better life." Marcus murmured... "we had a better life once." He snapped. "WHERE IS THAT LIFE, AND WHY CAN'T EVERYONE HAVE IT!?" And with that, a perfectly grown up old man started crying like a child.


Mother Ammi frowned, glancing at her drunkard guards and Marcus. "This is going to be a loooong night, isn't it?"
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