Dastun's lead turned out to be interesting. When I followed up with Big Ear, he informed me that the Paradigm Utility Board had announced that they were replacing the power lines in the city and to expect periodic blackouts or brownouts. Apparently, renovations and repairs had finally paid off. But whatever it was that was going deep underground, it was massive when I compared the dimensions. I have a feeling that what the Governor told me about the PUB coming out and surveying the area and what Angel and Dastun saw is connected. But until I see it for myself, all I have is a hunch and nothing more. And with the way security was before, the lot that Dastun and Angel discovered has probably doubled it. So, investigating on my own would be too dangerous without more information.
With these developments, Dorothy and I explored the underground, only to find the access shaft in which I had used to descend below the tunnels I use to transport Big O, didn't exist anymore. It was a solid concrete column. We explored more of the tunnel and did find some other access points, but because of the Event, many had caved in, or the ladders were sketchy at best. For the time being, we've put explorations on hold, until Norman can make contact with one of his associates who have mapped out the subway tunnels.
December finally settled in, hitting us with a brutal cold. Sleeping in on cold days would be nice, but Dorothy has been playing her annoying tune to wake me up more often than usual to keep me in a routine. Norman made sure the generators were tuned up and ready to go, on top of maintaining Big O. He also took more trips to the market to secure food and other supplies for the mansion, while Dorothy and I busied ourselves with cases, or the lack thereof. It turns out this was my least busiest December and I had more free time on my hands. The mansion had seemed to fallen back into a routine that we were all familiar with and grateful for as well.
Dorothy was progressing with her self-defense lessons and learning what worked for her. She may not had the strength to completely subdue opponents, but she transposed her quick thinking from her negotiating skills into her own form of combat, which was effective and caught me and Norman off-guard many times. After lessons, she kept trying to complete a pull up. She's almost there. She's hoping by the end of the year, she can make at least one pull up, though she's shooting for two. To help her out, I began a strength training regimen with her to go along with her running and self-defense lessons. I hope one day she'll never have to use what I teach her, but better safe than sorry. Even though she's a great runner, you can't always outrun your threats, so it's always best to have a diverse set of skills.
If Dorothy wasn't training with me, she was busy with her pet project at the clinic. It turns out the children apparently loved "The Marriage of the Two Lovers" from Robin Hood and instead of doing an art project, they wanted to act it out. So in between the few cases we did receive, Dorothy was spending most nights at the clinic, writing a script, researching music they had in storage, even calling R. Instro to help with any music that may fit the play, as well as rummaging around for art supplies. It seems Dorothy found key pieces of music to use and finished writing the screen play. She wrote out the lines to be more modern speaking English, keeping some key lines in the old English for effect. The play is set for December 22nd, which is three days away. I can tell she has made progress, but is a little stressed with the deadline.
Despite working late on her project, I would wait for her to come home and eat with her. The first few times I decided to eat without her, I found myself playing with my food. Having no one to talk to about the day made dinner uneventful. I think Dorothy felt the same way as me. When I stopped eating by myself, she was surprised to find me waiting for her one night. That night, we talked for hours, I guess catching on lost time for the nights we had missed together. I guess absence does make the heart grow fonder.
With Heaven's Day approaching, and not wanting to be caught off guard again, like I had for the past two years, I went shopping early this year, looking for gifts for the household. What does one get for the woman you appreciate in your life that says just the perfect amount of my feelings have grown for you and you want to take things to the next step? More importantly, what does one get for a butler who listens to you as you tried to figure out what gift to get your girlfriend? In any case, I found myself fretting over two weeks trying to find the perfect gift for Dorothy and Norman. I can negotiate a hostage crisis. Finding a gift for the two people I care about more than anything, I need a negotiator of my own to help me.
On top of stressing over gifts, former Lt. Davidson's statement had open old wounds. Even now, I sit here looking out the window, the statement, now questions, has finally had time to take root and fester. Who am I and why am I a Negotiator? Is it a part assigned to me? Is it something I chose of my own free will? And above all, am I truly the dominus of Big O?
Roger sighed, sipping his drink. It was an early afternoon. Roger, wearing his shirt, tie, and suspenders was staring outside through the French doors, not that he could see much. The temperature had frosted the glass. He leaned back, thinking over the existential questions he asked himself, many times over, but still had no answer.
It was true, they had no control over their lives completely. Not at least until the threat Angel had mentioned during that fateful meeting had been dealt with. But, if that were come to pass, what would happen? Would he still be a Negotiator? Would he still be the pilot of Big O?
27 years old and I can't figure this out. I'm pathetic.
Lt. Davidson's words began to replay in his mind.
"Let me make it clear. The circumstances in which I resigned from the MP are my own and none of your business. My previous history with the MP has nothing to do with the current situation."
"Oh, but it does. It explains why you are who you are and why you are a Negotiator."
"You're deep in thought."
Dorothy had walked into the room, carrying a box of brightly colored paints she had bought at the market. Roger continued staring out the window.
"Hello, Dorothy. It's nothing much. I'll be fine."
Dorothy stared at him as Roger continued looking out the French doors.
"Roger?"
"Mmm?"
"This is not like you. Come, sit with me. I have a moment."
Roger turned to look at her, Dorothy making her way to the couch, setting her supplies down. He closed his eyes, smiling, and accepted her invitation. Dorothy sat on the couch first, followed by him. She wrapped her arm gently around his chest and pulled him down, so that his head rested on her lap. Roger set his drink on the table, closing his eyes as he enjoyed Dorothy massaging his temple.
"You're my therapist now, Dorothy?"
Dorothy gave him a kind smile. "The only time I've seen you this mopey is when you're thinking about who you are."
Roger opened one eye. "I don't act mopey," he said, defensively.
"Okay then, you're withdrawn. It's also 2:00 in the afternoon and you normally don't drink until the evening."
"Touché, you got me."
Roger closed his eye, enjoying the attention Dorothy was giving him. He felt himself feel more at ease. He loosened his tie and unbuttoned his collar to free his neck. Dorothy felt his weight on her lap, indicating he was starting to relax. She began running her fingers through her hair, a sensation he had come to enjoy during their evenings together after dinner, although, as of late, it had been a rare occurrence.
"So, what's been bothering you?"
"Former Lt. Davidson's statement to me."
"About what?"
"How my history with the MP influenced me to be a Negotiator. I'm just wondering how much of that was my decision though."
"Why do you think that?"
"Because we're on a stage, Dorothy. I saw it, with my own two eyes. Before you saved me from drowning…"
Dorothy could tell he was a bit exasperated explaining himself. She continued stroking his hair.
"Even though it may be a stage, Angel feels this enemy is the one that created it, using us as an experiment to create a perfect world order. We still have a choice in this, whether you believe that or not. Who's to say, maybe the stage will disappear, and life will resume as normal. The sun will come out, we'll have trees and other plants will grow, animals may come back…"
"You're optimistic."
"I have reason to be optimistic now. It's a choice I made for myself, Roger. To cope with what has happened to me. Otherwise, how can I come to terms with what happened? I have to believe that something better lies beyond the curse we have in our lives now. At some point, it will get better. Otherwise, what would be the point of living, if I didn't have some say over my life, if I didn't believe that it wouldn't get better?"
Roger opened his eyes, looking at Dorothy's.
"You have that much faith in me?" he asked softly. He was more amazed than shock at Dorothy's words.
"I always have and I always will. You ARE a Negotiator. Whether you were created for the role or someone appointed you to it, at the end of the day, you made the choice to BE a Negotiator. You have the ability see the moral grays where others refuse to, and bring people together to find a solution. I don't know what happened when you were an MP, but I've never seen anyone try as hard as you do to fight for those who are taken advantage of, who need help, who need someone to represent them, who are despondent. You stand for something more. Deep down, I believe you saw something unfair or something that didn't sit right with you. You began planning your out and found a situation in which you could use as a reason for your resignation."
Roger took a deep breath and released it slowly, his eyes now moving to the ceiling.
"More or less. I couldn't stand the orders from the home office at times, especially when it came to outside the domes. There's just times I feel like I was brainwashed into being a Negotiator, if that makes any sense."
Roger had a brief flashback of Gordon Rosewater and the "tomato" experiments. He quickly put it out of his mind.
"I've been brainwashed and at some point, your will, takes over. Remember when Beck tried to get me to hug you death?"
"Yeah, I do. That was not a fun day, carrying you away from that gaudy robot of his."
Dorothy pinched Roger playfully, who laughed while squirming as it tickled him. "Very funny. But do you remember what you told me?"
"That you short circuited the disk that was controlling you?"
"Beck may have 'brainwashed' me into killing you, but I made the decision in the end to not be controlled. Even if you feel like you were brainwashed, Roger, you're a natural with negotiating. Stick with what you know. But, I'm getting off topic. Where was I before?"
"You were talking about my time as an MP."
"Oh, right. So then, after you quit the MP, you found an occupation in which you live with yourself, knowing if you did your best every day, you would be satisfied. A job in which you have your own rules, your own terms, your own lines that could not be crossed, no matter what."
"I guess that's my issue then. I keep asking myself did something tell me to play that role or was it picked for me?"
"How did you feel before you started questioning yourself?"
"I was 100% confident that I made the choice to be a Negotiator."
"And did you believe it?"
"Yes, until…"
"Then that's all that matters."
Roger sat up, turning to look at Dorothy. "It's not that simple, Dorothy."
"You can choose how complex it can be, Roger. Deep down, you're a good person, and you want to help others. You wouldn't had joined the MP otherwise until the wool was lifted over your eyes and you saw the corruption within the MP. You forged your own route, your own path. I don't think anyone assigned you a role. Maybe divine intervention played a part to guide you to where you are now, but you still had a choice in the end to end up where you are now."
Roger took his drink and downed a large sip. He was starting to feel better, understanding Dorothy's point of view. But he still had one question left, nagging at him.
"I see where you're coming from Dorothy and I guess I can accept that answer. The one question I can't answer is why everyone calls me the dominus of Big O. There's just something about that word… it's irritating."
Roger leaned back on the couch, looking at the ceiling once more. Dorothy took this opportunity to snuggle close next to him. Roger absentmindedly wrapped his arm around her, which she took as a good sign. She looked at him, even though his mind was lost on viewing the ceiling.
"Why does it bother you?"
"Because I'm NOT his master. I send the call, and he fights alongside me. Heck, there has been times where he has called me to action. I'm not his dominus nor is he mine. We've always been a team, helping each other and others, in this crazy, messed-up world."
"So… if you're not his dominus, then you're his friend. Which I think is better than being a dominus. You complement each other with your strengths and weaknesses, which makes you the best pilot for him. Thus, that makes you a team."
Roger looked down at Dorothy. "Big O? My friend?"
"Well, in public, you do call him your 'Big friend,' so why not?"
Roger chuckled. Even if it was slightly annoying, she had a way of simplifying a problem, making it less complex. Perhaps she was right. Maybe he was just overthinking things. He kissed her on the forehead and Dorothy smiled at him.
"I take it that I helped you?"
"Mmm-hmm. You did. I feel a lot better now. Thank you, Dorothy."
"Stop doubting yourself, Roger. Have faith in yourself and have faith things will get better."
"You sound like Norman now. I'll try. And I guess if I get out of control with my overthinking, you can put me in my place."
"I'll just play your favorite tune on the piano until you stop overthinking."
"No, anything but that." He laughed, feeling a weight lifted off his chest.
She got up from the couch, pausing to kiss him on the lips, before grabbing her supplies.
"Well, I need to finish this play. I'll probably be home late. Unless… Wait, you can help me."
Roger shook his head. "Did you not see the picture of Big O I painted that one time? I understand it was watercolors, but he turned out into a blob. Your project is much safer when I'm not around it."
"I see. So what you're telling me is, you can take on giant robots, hostage takers, and murderers, but you can't take on arts and crafts?"
Roger felt a ping of annoyance. "No, I just don't want to ruin your play for the kids."
Dorothy nodded slowly. "Okay then, so it's an issue of confidence in your art skills."
"No, it's not!"
Roger grumbled. She goes from helping me out to annoying me. What gives?
"I tell you what, let's settle this with a chess match. If you lose, you agree to help me with the play tonight. If I lose, no annoying piano playing for a month. Deal?"
"You've been very comfortable playing that annoying tune of yours lately…" said Roger, rubbing his chin, "Fine, you got a deal."
They made their way over to the chess set. Dorothy set her things down, taking a seat. Roger sat on the opposite side of her.
"White or black?" he asked.
"Hmm… give me white this time."
Roger spun the board around. Dorothy made the first move, and they began to play.
********************************************
"DOROTHY WAYNERIGHT!"
Norman had stepped off the lift, wearing his maintenance gear. He had just finished completing Big O's maintenance, and wanted to see what items he needed in the kitchenette for tonight's dinner when he heard Roger yell. He quietly made his way over to the living room area, and saw Roger, flustered. He was looking over the chess board, looking for a move get out of checkmate. But Dorothy had won the game using a Scholar's Mate maneuver with the queen as her primary piece of offense.
"It's no use, Roger. I won fair and square."
Roger muttered mutinously. "No fair! You used a quick maneuver. You know I don't like those!"
"You didn't make that stipulation when we made our wager."
Roger got even more frustrated. "You set me up…"
"I believe the term is called 'baiting.' And you fell for it."
"HMPH!"
Roger crossed his arms defensively, looking away from her. Dorothy gave a small giggle, stood up, and gathered her art supplies once more. "I believe you're tagging along with me to go to the clinic?"
Roger grabbed his suit jacket that was hanging on the coat rack, and put it on, still grumbling over the loss. He jammed his hands into his pockets, still muttering. Roger and Dorothy walked past Norman to the lift. Dorothy stepped in and Roger shut the gate.
"We'll be back late, Norman, so you have some time before preparing dinner to rest," she called to Norman.
The lift began to descend, Roger still scowling at Dorothy, as the lift disappeared from sight.
"Well, what an interesting development!" Norman observed cheerfully as he went over to the kitchenette to reassess options for dinner.