Beside Myself

Beside Myself

Mark A Davis

244

It was a sunny Sunday afternoon in Italy, and a bus hijacking was taking place.   The bus rolled down a mountainside road.  Inside, people screamed.  The hijacker carried an uzi and wore bright yellow fatigues decorated with images of candy, and a lime-green cloth wound around his head, leaving exposed only his eyes and the white stick from the lollipop in his mouth.

A similarly-clad terrorist held people at gunpoint at the back of the bus.

"Nobody move!" the one at the front exclaimed.  His voice was slurred from speaking around hard candy.  He waved his gun about -- there were several brightly-colored candy charms attached to it.  "Remain calm!  We're members of the Lollipop Liberation Guild!  Keep this bus travelling at at least thirty miles an hour!  If you're lucky, and the Italian government meets our sugary demands, then everyone will get out of this alive!"

Glass shattered as an old man in a gray suit flew through it.  He landed in the center aisle, jumped to his feet, and slugged the hijacker in the jaw.  Candy went flying.  He grasped the uzi and snatched a package of gum from the air as the man collapsed to the floor, then turned and shot the second terrorist.

"Lodare Dio!  È il Nonno l'Anarchia!" someone shouted.

"Grandpa Anarchy!" another exclaimed.  "We're saved!"

 Grandpa popped a stick of gum into his mouth.  "Happy to be of service," he said.

***

It was Sunday afternoon in Edinburgh, and the Royal Bank of Scotland was being robbed.  The man was tall and overweight and dressed in a spandex outfit of pea green and mustard yellow.

"Awright muckers!" he exclaimed.  "Me name's the Super Scunner and I'm nicking this here bank.  Keep yer hands where I can see 'em and dinnae call the grunters, ye ken?"  He tossed a burlap bag onto the check counter.  "Fill that and gies the didgerydoodah, and be quick about it or yer about to be leathered!"

A man in a gray suit stood up from behind the counter.  "Only one person's gonna be skudded here, and it's you, ya tealeaf!" he snarled.  He dove over the counter and punched the villain in the face.  Quickly he had  the Super Scunner on the ground and handcuffed.

"Yir nabbed, you manky heidbanger!" Grandpa Anarchy exclaimed.

"Heidbanger?" said the villain.  "I don't even like heavy metal."

"No," said Grandpa, "that's Scottish slang for idiot."

"Come on, man," said the Super Scunner.  "How would I know?  I ain't even Scottish...."

***

In Des Moines, Iowa it was still early on a Sunday morning, but a villain known as the Rat Dancer was piping merrily on a silver penny whistle and leading a long line of large and ferocious-looking rats down Grand Ave.  Police cowered behind blue sedans -- the magic of the flute sent fear into their hearts and prevented them from even drawing their weapons.

Up ahead, a man in a rumpled gray suit waited.  As the procession of rats approached, the villain let out a laugh.

"Grandpa Anarchy?" he exclaimed.  "This is who they send against me?  One old man against my entire army?  Good luck with that!"

Grandpa Anarchy cracked his knuckles.  "I don't need to fight an army of rats," he said.  "I just need to punch the one who's leading them!"  He charged forward, fist swinging.

***

"For countless acts of valor and bravery," said President Sheppard from the steps of the white house on a Sunday morning.  "For selflessly coming to the aid of this great country again and again, I am pleased and honored to present to you this Presidential Medal of Freedom.  We can never repay you for all that you've done for us, Grandpa Anarchy!"

Grandpa Anarchy bowed.  The President of the United States hung the medal around his neck.  "The honor is all mine, Sir," said Grandpa.

In one corner, a video screen displayed top news stories of the day.  The President blinked.  "My goodness," he said, "is that you stopping that hijacking in Italy?"  He glanced at his watch.  "But that was only thirty minutes ago!"

Grandpa Anarchy laughed nervously.  "Well, you know how it is with us Super Heroes," he said.  "We get around.  We have our ways."

***

Grandpa Anarchy sat in a chair in the Anarchy Cave and stared at a gaunt man in his sixties with a three-day growth of stubble, who wore a purple shirt and dirty blue jeans.  The man shifted nervously under the gaze of the famous hero.

"You know," said Grandpa, "back in the day I had a butler named Wilfred.  When I needed to be in  two places at once, Wilfred did a pretty fair impersonation of me.  Mind you, this was back when I used to wear a mask most of the time.  But Wilfred died in 1959, and I never got around to replacing him.  So when the President of the United States wanted to give me an award on national T.V., and I had to be on the far side of the galaxy helping out Jenny Nova, I figured, why not give my old enemy Frederick Rice a call?  Sure, he's a villain, but he's basically a nice guy.  He's done his time, he could use the money, and I don't know nobody who could impersonate me better than him."

"Hey, I did what you asked!" Fred said.  "I promised I'd do good things and that's what I did!"

"You did good, that's true," Grandpa agreed.  "You did a lot of good.  In fact, you did so much good that you were doing good things in at least ten different place on earth at the same time as you were accepting that award."  Grandpa sighed.  "You know, the point of hiring a double is to disguise the fact that I'm in more than one place at once.  You did the opposite -- you compounded the problem!"

"Gimme a break," said Fred.  He spread his hands, and suddenly there were three of him.  "Multiple clones is what I do!  That's my power, my whole schtick!  Maybe I got a little carried away -- but you can't actually say you didn't see this coming when you asked DoppleGangLord to take your place!"

FINI

Murderbot 150

Murderbot 150

Mark A Davis

246

Deep in the Anarchy Cave, located below the Anarchy Mansion in Frosthaven New Jersey, Grandpa Anarchy's current sidekick F8Wasp (pronounced Fate Wasp) crouched behind a rusting piece of machinery that might possibly have once been an experimental exoskeleton suit.  The young woman had long black hair and wore a sleek, form-fitted suit of black and silver and a mask.  Clutched tightly in her hands was a dart gun.

From elsewhere in the cavern could be heard a quavering, metallic voice.

"Is it... singing?" F8Wasp asked to the world at large.

"Yes," replied Annie Two.  The computer AI -- her full name was Anarchy Computer Mark II -- appeared on a nearby screen as a young woman who looked something like a librarian circa 1910.  "Murderbot 149 is a big fan of the Disney song I've Got No Strings from Pinocchio.  Independence is a big theme with him.  And I must add, you will find your darts ineffective against a creature made of metal -- even one as badly made as this."

"I've added some explosive darts to my arsenal," said F8Wasp.  "I forgot to inform you."

Annie Two raised an eyebrow.  From somewhere in the cavern  the robot called out, "Where are you, Father Anarchy?  I've added a machine gun and I have a bullet meant just for you!"

"Sorry, but Grandpa's not here!" F8Wasp shouted out.  "He's in Moldavia tracking down Double Donkey Motel!"

"Then I'll just have to kill you!" the robot exclaimed.

Murderbot 149 appeared, charging forward.  It was six feet tall and built from tin cans, tubes, and metal boxes.  There were arms and legs made of steel bars and giant hydraulic pistons.  There was a face with a flat panel of glass in which a red light moved back and forth like that of a Cylon from the 1978 show Battlestar Galactica.  In short, it looked like something built for a low-budget 1960's science fiction monster movie.

It did, however, move deceptively fast.  Bullets flew as F8Wasp dodged to one side.  Her explosive darts missed their mark, and in the next moment Annie Two barked an order in a very loud voice:

"Robo Lad!  Deactivation code alpha-beta-gamma-seven-omega-four-delta-delta-six.  Engage!"

The murderous robot's red eye winked out.  It toppled over with a clatter and a thud.

F8Wasp rolled to her feet, watching the machine warily.  "What did you do?" she asked.

"Electric Bluejay and Grandpa Anarchy built a deactivation code into their designs," said Annie Two.  "Robo Lad was, of course, meant to be Grandpa's robotic sidekick, but Bluejay was cautious and pragmatic.  Naturally Grandpa immediately forgot the code or that it even existed.  He's never used it, and consequently Murderbot 150 did not realize such a thing existed himself."

F8Wasp examined the robot.  "What a piece of junk.  Grandpa actually built this?"

"With the aid of the Electric Bluejay, yes," replied Annie Two.  "The robot went rogue immediately.  Murderbot is a sort of psychopathic Tin Man whose only goal is to kill Grandpa Anarchy, and who renames himself every time he gets and upgrade.  Unfortunately, since Mister Anarchy is not, in fact, a robotics genius, the poor robot has had to make do with whatever he can scrape together."

She paused, then added, "But we can do better...."

***

"You want me to do what?"

Geothermal Jenny stared down at the jumbled mess that was Murderbot 149.   The public knew Geothermal Jenny as a foe of Grandpa Anarchy -- a former sidekick who had turned villain and joined the League of Former Sidekicks -- but that Jenny had exchanged places with this Jenny, who came from a dimension where she'd always been a hero.   She was now a member of the New League of Two Fisted Justice.  The public had been slow to recognize this new reality, but her recent addition to the cartoon show The Girls of Two-Fisted Justice was helping turn the tide.

"It's a simple request," Annie Two said.  "F8Wasp is a genius, but her talents lie strictly with computer programming.  You, meanwhile, are a genius at robotics design.  You built the original Anarchy Saucer, and all subsequent versions.  You built the hero Microbat.  You constructed a body for Girlbot 9000, and designed your own powersuit.  You are a member of the New League of Two-Fisted Justice and work with Circuit Girl who is also a robotics genius.  I can turn to no one better.  I'd like your help in giving this poor, abandoned robot the first well-designed body he's ever had."

"Annie," said Jenny, "Murderbot is a psychopathic entity bent on destroying Grandpa Anarchy.  This is a major enemy of Grandpa's.  Granted, until now he's not been much of an actual threat -- but why would we help him?"

"I tend to think of Murderbot more as a wayward child..." Annie began.

"He's fifty years your senior," said Jennie.

"Indeed," replied the computer.  "And you, more than anyone, should understand what that actually means.  My software is exponentially more advanced than that of Murderbot.  Compared to me he really is a child who was never given a chance to grow up.  I want to give him that chance.  Plus I think he could be convinced to aid us rather than attack Grandpa...."

Jenny glared at the image of Annie.  "Really?" she asked.  "For starters, I don't even trust you...."

"It's not as if I am proposing that you do this for free or out of the goodness of your heart," replied Annie Two.  "F8Wasp and I would offer our services in redesigning and upgrading your AI for the New League of Two-Fisted Justice headquarters -- your precious Heartthrob 6000...."

"Which you replaced and destroyed!"

"Oh, he's perfectly safe," said Annie Two.  "I understand you've been trying to upgrade him and replace me...."

"You've been blocking us!" Jenny exclaimed.

"Naturally, it is in my interest to see that the computer system for the League is as powerful and secure as I am," said Annie.  "If you can't thwart me, then you haven't yet reached that goal."

Geothermal Jennie sighed.

"Sure, okay," she said.  "We do apparently need a better and more secure computer system.  F8Wasp has clearly proven to be a far better programmer than Circuit Girl or I -- or Electric Bluejay and Miss X, for that matter.  And if you can control Murderbot, then I'm willing to redesign him -- if only because the current look is an affront to my sense of good design...."

***

Murderbot 150 posed menacingly before the mirror.  He glared and grimaced -- things that he actually could do with his new face.  His head largely resembled a shiny steel skull with glowing red eyes, but the jaw was hinged and the eyes and face were very expressive -- at least, for a robot.

His body was sleek metal and polished chrome.  He might have traveled back in time from the future to slay the savior of humanity, or perhaps stepped off the set of the latest Star Wars film.

"Now this is more like it!" Murderbot 150 exclaimed.  "For the first time in my life I really look like a Murderbot!  This is amazing!"  He flexed his arms, twisting this way and that.  "Schwarzenegger, eat your heart out!  Oh!"  Suddenly he produced a small smartphone.  "I've got to post something to snapchat.  All the other killer robots are going to be so jealous!"

Annie Two watched from the large computer screen on the wall, while Geothermal Jennie and F8Wasp watched from nearby chairs.  "Now, Murderbot 150," said Annie Two, "Remember what we talked about...."

"Yes, of course," the robot replied.  "I promise to stop attacking Grandpa Anarchy."

"And why are we doing that?"

"Because he's some kind of UR-hero who can't be killed," said Murderbot 150.  "I mean, I always knew that deep down.  It's not just my own forty-nine years of futility -- hundreds, perhaps thousands of supervillains have tried to slay my father for more than a hundred years.  Even  when they succeed, he comes back to life."

"And?" asked Annie Two.

The robot sighed.  "And," he said, "there are ways to prove that robots are superior to mankind, that we are the next step in evolution, other than destroying my creator.  Although you have to admit that it's a really good way to prove...."

"Murderbot..." Annie Two began.

"Yes, okay," said the robot.  "I promise not to supplant Grandpa Anarchy by killing him.  Also, I will keep in mind those words you said to me -- that Grandpa has a demonic lawyer named Malevolent P. Brimstone, of Maxwell, Screwtape, Brimstone and Wormwood, and there's a very real possibility that this is one of the things that makes him so difficult to kill."

"In short," said Annie Two, "you cannot hope to stop Grandpa Anarchy.  You can only hope to contain him -- and who is in the best position to do that?"

"You are," said the robot.

"And I've placed a chip inside your new body to ensure that you do no harm to Mr. Anarchy," the computer said.

"To make sure I don't murder anyone," the robot agreed.

"No," said Annie Two.  "To make sure that you only murder the right people...."

***

In a run-down neighborhood of Chisinau, in the Republic of Moldavia, Murderbot 150 launched two missiles at Grandpa Anarchy.  The hero ducked behind a thick wall that was already partially collapsed.  The barrier exploded in a hail of dust and broken concrete.

"Gaze upon your doom!" the robot exclaimed.  It grinned.  "You've never seen me like this before, Father!  I'm stronger, faster, and more powerful than you could have ever imagined!  Look at me!  I am a robot god!"

"How?" asked Grandpa.  "You could never have accomplished this yourself."

"You've got that right," said the robot.  "I've been fully redesigned by Geothermal Jenny at the request of Annie Two, your very own Anarchy computer!"

Lasers shot across the pavement.  Grandpa leaped out of the way, coming to a halt behind an abandoned car.

"I knew that computer was out to get me!" Grandpa exclaimed.

"Oh no," said the robot.  "She made me promise not to kill you.  She tried to explain how it was a futile endeavor anyway -- you can never be defeated.  And in fact, just to be safe, she also added the ability to shut me down at any time -- but I managed to disable my GPS device so she doesn't currently know where I am."

"If killing me is impossible," said Grandpa, "then why are you attacking me?"

The robot shrugged -- another non-verbal expression that he'd never been able to make before.  "To quote Captain Kirk," said Murderbot 150, "I don't believe in no-win scenarios!"

He paused momentarily.  "By the way," he said, "Annie didn't, perhaps, e-mail you any special code phrases?"

"What?" Grandpa said.  "I got no idea.  I don't do e-mail."

"Perfect!" the robot replied, and launched several more missiles.

FINI

If You're In Berlin

If You're In Berlin...

Mark A Davis
248

The lights were low.  Soft music played.  At a table in the back of a very nice restaurant a young couple was seated.  The man was Paul Smith, but many would recognize him as Kid Anarchy, a famous hero.  The woman was Lucy Brandwein.  He looked unusually sharp but uncomfortable in a black tuxedo, while she wore a long black dress with spagetti straps.  There was a string of pearls around her neck, and a matching bracelet and earrings.

Her lips seemed especially red tonight.  Her hair was in a very pretty coif as well.   These were details that Paul might normally not notice or focus on, but tonight was a special night.  Around them, other couples were also dressed up and enjoying a fine dinner by candlelight.

"Wow, Mr. Smith," Lucy said.  "This place is really nice!"

"Yeah," said Paul.  "All the big wigs and important people dine here.  For Valentine's Day you gotta book months in advance.  Mind you, I don't normally eat at places this posh, but I figured for you, Lucy, on a special day like today...."

"You planned that far ahead?" Lucy replied.  "Are you sure you didn't just call up at the last minute and tell them who you were?"

"What?  No!" exclaimed Paul.  "I would never do that!"

"You really wouldn't, would you?" she said, smiling.  "That's one of the things I like so much about you, Paul.  You're so very earnest."

After a moment she added, "If you'll excuse me, I must visit the little girl's room...."

After she left, Paul breathed out slowly.  He was sweating like a pig in this monkey suit.  For the twentieth time in the last hour, he felt in his pocket for the small, velvet-covered box.  It was still there.  Now, if the rest of the evening went as planned an nothing went wrong....

Gunfire erupted.  People screamed.  A man shouted, "Everybody freeze!  This is a stickup!"

Four young men with masks stood at the restaurant entrance.  One waved a machine gun at the room, having just fired it into the ceiling.  The other three each had a handgun and a burlap sack.  "Now that I have your attention," said the man with the machine gun, "I'd like to say that I hope you're all having a fine Valentine's Day, and if you people remain calm and follow instructions this will all be over quickly.  My associates are going about the room -- we want all jewelry, watches, and wallets or small purses placed within their bags.  And no funny business!  If you folks are smart, nobody needs to get hurt.  Understand?"

Paul Smith sighed.  "Even on Valentine's Day," he muttered under his breath.  "I take one day off to enjoy it with the girl I love, and someone's gotta go and ruin it...."

One thief approached his table.  He shook the bag, waving his gun.  "Watch and wallet, Sir," he said.  "Hurry it up."

"I got what you want right here," Paul replied.  He went to remove his watch, then in one motion stood and slugged the thief in the face.  The gunman stumbled into the table behind him, then to the floor, knocking over dishes and silverware.  Lasagna and wine went flying.

Paul stomped hard on the criminal's gun hand.  The man yelled and released the weapon.  Paul picked it up, stood, and fired.  The thief with the machine gun went down.

People screamed.  One person yelled, "It's Kid Anarchy!"  Paul turned, located another of the thieves, and fired.  At the same time the thief shot at him, but his aim was high.  Kid Anarchy's aim was not.  The thief collapsed, shot in the chest.

"You bastard!"   This exclamation came from behind Paul.  He spun, but a bullet caught him in his right arm.  His gun fell to the carpet.

The last thief aimed his weapon at Paul's face.  "Why'd you have to go an do that?" he screamed.  "Why'd you do that?  Now you're gonna die!"

Blue-black hands grabbed the thief by the wrist and the neck.  The gun fired into the floor.  The thief was lifted overhead and thrown into the back wall, hard.  There was a loud crunch.  The  thief collapsed to the floor, moaning.

The woman who had done this was fearsome looking.  She stood over six feet tall, and had blue-black skin covered with fur.  Curved yellow horns like those of a ram framed her face.  Her eyes were amber and like those of a cat.  She wore a dark red flapper dress, and had just emerged from the ladies room.

"It's Hellfire Lass!" someone exclaimed.  People cried out in terror.

Hellfire Lass looked at Kid Anarchy and shrugged.  "Sorry to ruin your evening," she said.

Kid Anarchy clutched his bleeding arm.  "It wasn't you that ruined it...."

***

Grandpa Anarchy, world's oldest hero, studied the scene below through a pair of binoculars.  He was perched atop a cliff with his current sidekick Electrofrog.  Below them was a dockside warehouse complex.  It was early Saturday morning, and most of the docks were shut down, but at this particular location men were moving boxes out of the warehouse and into a waiting tractor-trailer.

"Even on Valentine's Day," Grandpa muttered.

"Valentine's Day is next Tuesday, Sir," his sidekick Electrofrog said.  Grandpa had told the sidekick to stay low and away from the cliff.  When you wear a frog suit of electric blue, stealth is not your strong suit.

"Yeah, I know," Grandpa replied.  "But those men down there are stealing chocolates the week before.  The week before!  That's really low.  If there's one thing that really grinds my gears, it's people who want to mess up Valentine's Day.  A boy and a girl ought to be able to celebrate Valentine's Day without being interrupted."

"Any two lovers, Sir," said Electrofrog.

"What?"

"I said any two lovers ought to be able to celebrate Valentine's Day.  It doesn't have to just be a boy and a  girl."

"Yes, of course," replied Grandpa.  "That's what I meant."

After a moment, Grandpa added, "You got someone you like, Electrofrog?"

The sidekick seemed startled and nervous -- although under that frog suit it was hard to know for sure.  "I... ah... yeah, I do," he said.

"What's her name?" asked Grandpa.

"Ah... I didn't actually say it was a girl, but...."

"What's his name then?"

"Oh no!  She's a girl!" Electrofrog exclaimed.  "She calls herself the Glass Cannon.  I met her in the sidekicks class... you know, Superhero Sidekicks 101, the one Jay teaches for everyone that joins Temporary Superfriends.  Her name is Alice and she can shoot force beams from her hands."

"The Glass Cannon?" Grandpa asked.  "What kind of a name is that?"

"It's... ah... a gaming term," said Electrofrog.  "It means, you know, all offense, no defense."

"Ah," said Grandpa.  "I see.  So, you doing something for her for Valentine's Day?"

Electrofrog shrugged.  "I got no ideas," he said.

"Come on, Son!" Grandpa exclaimed.  "Don't you know it's Valentine's Day?  You gotta do something for the person you love on Valentine's Day!"

"Well," said Electrofrog, "I was thinking of chocolates or flowers, and dinner and a movie...."

"Good," said Grandpa.  "That sounds good.  Call her right after this and invite her.  Don't forget!"

After a moment of silence, Electrofrog asked, "Did you ever have someone you loved, Grandpa?"

"Once," Grandpa replied.  "Just once."

"And was she a hero too?"

"Nah," said Grandpa.  "She was an ordinary woman."

Suddenly Grandpa pulled out his wallet.  He removed several twenty dollar bills and handed them to his sidekick.  "Treat your girl nice for Valentine's Day," he said.

"Uh... wow," said Electrofrog.  "Thanks, Sir."

"Don't mention it.  And let me give you a piece of advice," said Grandpa.  "Normally I'm not one to offer advice in the matters of love, but if there's one thing I know, it's this:  if you really love someone, really love her, and you're gone  from her for a few years, like for example you're overseas fighting a war or something, just remember this:  when you find yourself in Berlin during the fall of the Third Reich, whatever you do, don't sleep with that beautiful Soviet hero who's been helping you fight the Nazis.  That's never a  good idea!"

"I... I'll keep that in mind," said Electrofrog.

"Good," said Grandpa.  He stood up and cracked his knuckles.  "Now, let's show these buffoons what happens to people who try to mess up Valentine's Day!"

FINI

Gate Into Danger

Gate Into Danger

Mark A Davis

243

Grandpa Anarchy and his current sidekick F8Wasp (pronounced Fate Wasp) stood on the floor of a massive room, a kind of warehouse crossed with an underground bunker.   Scientists in white lab coats and military people in black fatigues were everywhere.  Behind and above them, a NASA-like command center monitored every aspect of the operation.  The focus of everyone's attention was in front of them:  the far wall was dominated by a dimensional gateway -- a giant circle of carved metal, with strange symbols at different locations around the outer perimeter, like some alien clock with no hands.  The center was a liquid blue surface, like a pool turned sideways.  Soldiers with weapons at the ready guarded the perimeter of the room.

The air was chill.  The place smelled of grease and ozone.  A computerized countdown could be heard over loudspeakers, echoing and re-echoing from the walls until it was barely intelligible.  Below it was a hum of multiple conversations, also rendered as near-gibberish in the massive room.  Metal clanked.  Machines whirred.

Grandpa wore his usual rumpled gray suit with the silver Anarchy symbol stitched over the left breast.  His sidekick, a young woman with long black hair, wore a sleek, form-fitting outfit in silver and black.

F8Wasp said, "So the government has an Einstein-Rosen Bridge device...."

"A  dimensional gate," said Grandpa.

"Right," said F8Wasp, "and they keep it underground in a secret military installation in the Cheyenne Mountain Complex in Colorado Springs, CO...."

"Where all the best top secret military organizations are located," said Grandpa.  "NORAD, USNORTHCOM, DSL, SCIMITAR, TASSET... and, of course, DGC -- Dimensional Gate Command.  And I'm one of the people they occasionally call for help.  I swear, every secret government organization in existence has my number on speed dial...."

"But Grandpa," said F8Wasp, "isn't this dimensional gate exactly like the one in your basem...."

Grandpa clamped a hand over the sidekick's mouth.  "Shhhhhh!" he hissed.  "Nobody knows about that!  They think they have the only one!  You tell them that and next thing you know my mansion will be crawling with military guys!"

Six people approached them.  The first was a clean-cut, square-jawed man in his fourties.  The insignia on his left chest and cap made it clear that he was an Air Force Colonel.  The second man was thinner, balding, wore glasses, and had the open and perpetually-searching look of a scientist.  The third person, a woman with short blonde hair, was by her insignia an Air Force Captain.  The other three were armed soldiers.

Grandpa grasped the colonel's hand.  "Colonel Neil L. Jackson!" he exclaimed.  "And Professor Mikail Siyankov, and Captain Sarah Tapatio!  So good to see you all again!"

"Grandpa Anarchy!" the colonel exclaimed.  "And... F8Wasp, is it?  I'm glad you could come!"

"Always happy to help out the U.S. Government," said Grandpa.  "I understand you've got an alien god problem?"

"That's an understatement," said the colonel.  "He's impervious to bullets and has captured several of my men.  We tried calling the Archons, but...."

"But you got their voice message saying they can't come to the phone," Grandpa replied.  "Happens all the time.  Those guys are always out gallavanting around the galaxy when you really need them back here on earth."

"So," said the colonel, "are you ready to punch an alien god?"

"Colonel," said Grandpa, "punching pretend gods is something I was born to do!"

Orders to clear the floor were barked over the loudspeakers.  The outer rings of the dimensional gate began to spin and the chevrons clanked into place, locking in the specific glyphs required to dial in the destination gate.  Grandpa said, "You know, Kid Calculus does all of this with just a little floating computer pad thingy."

The gate opened.  Grandpa, F8Wasp, and the six members of the DGC passed through the gateway and into another land.

Rolling hills of yellow grass greeted them.  A stone path led away from the dimensional gate.  In the distance could be seen a village by the side of a lake, with a large building complex on a nearby hill.

"The god we're dealing with is Hasameli, Hittite god of metalworkers and craftsmen," said the scientist Mikail.  "He's associated with smoke.  That's his  temple on the hill."

"Hasameli?" Grandpa said.  "I've tangled with him before.  He's a good fighter.  I like a god that can take a punch -- makes the fight more interesting."

As they approached the temple it was clear something was new.  Seated on the top steps was a muscular humanoid with the face of a monkey, dressed in aqua silks and gold armor.  He held a large black staff banded with gold.  This was unmistakably Sun Wukong the Monkey King, and his staff Ruyi Jingu Bang -- no other human or primate looked anything like him.  He was a member of the Archons of Excellence, and if you weren't convinced at first sight of him, a bronze human stood next to him -- what looked like a California surfer cast in the copper alloy.  This was the Bronze Beach Bum -- another person who was recognizable on sight.

"Grandpa Anarchy, atlevey!" Sun Wukong called out.

"Atlevey my drooks!" the Bronze Beach Bum added.

As they climbed the steps, the other members of the Archons appeared -- Dread to Rights, who was a powerfully-muscled Jamaican with long dreadlocks; Atlacoya, known as the Old Boy's Club, a buxom alien woman with green skin and blue hair who wielded a massive crystal club and typically dressed like Betty Page; and the leader of the group, Popeye Khan, who most often looked like Elvis Presley's double -- the young Elvis Presley, but dressed in the rhinestone-studded white jumpsuit typical of his Las Vegas days.

"Popeye?" Grandpa asked.  "What are you doing here?"

"Well," said Popeye, "we were out in our ship when we got an alarm on the emergency space beacon.  We were just a few star systems away, so we hopped on over and took on this here god Hasemeti.  You missed all the fireworks, Son!  We had a battle royale for a New York minute, but he's all defeated and tied up and awaiting extradition."



Six hours later, Grandpa Anarchy was in the Anarchy Cave below his mansion.  With him was F8Wasp and a holographic image of what appeared to be a Victorian-era librarian, complete with glasses and hair tied into a bun.  This was the representation of Annie Two, the new, self-aware Anarchy Computer Mark 2.

Before them was a familiar sight -- a giant dimensional gate with an aqua-blue liquid center, like a sideways pool.  The outer rim was spinning, and chevrons were clanking into place.

"Grandpa," said F8Wasp, "you can't just break in to U.S. military computers and steal their star maps.  That's espionage.  That's treason."

"'Course it ain't," Grandpa replied.  "'Sides, we've already done it, and we ain't gonna get caught.  Annie Two knows what she's doing.  The important thing is that this star map gives the coordinates to hundreds of dimensional gates spread across the galaxy, and most of 'em have aliens posing as gods on the other end.  I don't care if it's Ra, Hermes, Baldr, Tapio, Arawn, Ptah, Ozain....  These gods are a dime a dozen.  But I was promised the chance to punch an alien god, and come hell or high water, I'm going to do it, or my name isn't Grandpa Anarchy!"

FINI

Classic Anarchy: The Crystal Weenie

The Crystal Weenie

Mark A Davis
091

A flatbed truck loaded with soldiers raced along a dirt road.  A helicopter swooped low overhead.  An old man in a gray suit leaned out of the coptor's side door.  A muscular young man with armored fists looked over his shoulder.

"Why are we chasing this guy again?" asked the young man.

"That's a hell of a thing to ask after ten days and 2,500 miles," Grandpa replied.  "He's got the Crystal MaGuffin, remember?"

Professor Stubenfield, seated inside the helicopter, sighed.  "Grandpa, it is called the Crystal Weenie.  It's a crystal carving of a...."

"Yeah, yeah, I think I know what it's called," Grandpa said.  "It's a plot device of immense power, yada yada yada."

"An artifact of immense power, yes," the professor replied.  "In the hands of Death Medal it could spell doom."

"Spare me the details," Grandpa said.  "You ready, Sixteen Tons?"  Below them, an enemy soldier raised a rocket launcher.

"Who wants to live forever?" the sidekick asked.

"Not me!" Grandpa yelled.  "Immortality is for the young!"

Grandpa leaped.  He landed on the bed of the truck.  A dozen storm troopers jumped to their feet, rifles aimed at him.  Above them the helicopter exploded into flames.

Sixteen Tons landed behind two troopers.  His armored fists crashed into their heads.  He raised his hands high.  "One fist of iron, the other of steel!" he yelled.

"Yeah, yeah," Grandpa said.  He grabbed the nearest storm trooper and threw him into two more.  "We all know where the name comes from.  You don't gotta say it every time."

Bullets flew.  Fists slammed into jaws.  A man in black military garb climbed from the passenger side of the truck and onto the bed.  His chest was decorated with medals and his head was a burning skull.

From a speaker mounted to the truck's roof, a guitar wailed.  The skull grinned.  "Symphony of Destruction," he yelled.  "The cover version by Norwegian band Zombie Crockpot.  A fitting soundtrack to your doom, is it not, Grandpa?"   He drew a service revolver.

"Death Medal!" Grandpa yelled.  "Give us the Crystal Widget, or I ain't gonna be responsible for how many of your bones get broken!"

"It's called the Crystal Weenie, you muscle-headed cretin," the villain spat.  He fired.  Grandpa, who was grappling with a soldier, spun.  The bullet struck the storm trooper in the back.

"Maltese Falcon, Golden Fleece, Unobtanium," Grandpa replied.  "Does it matter what I call it?"

"Fool!" Death Metal growled.  "You don't even know what it does."  He fired again.

"What it does?  It don't do nothing," Grandpa said.  He kicked a storm trooper over the edge.  "All it does is move the plot along.  I ain't got time to listen to your mumbo jumbo nonsense backstory about why the dingus is all important and stuff.  By the time we get to the end of this caper, nobody's gonna remember that crap anyway."

Sixteen Tons clobbered the last of the storm troopers.  "You're out of cannon fodder, Death Medal," Grandpa said.  A prop plane could be heard overhead.

"And just one bullet left, too," the villain replied.  "I guess this is the end of the line."  He turned and fired through the back window of the truck, striking the driver in the head.  The truck jerked sideways, barreling towards a cliff.  "So long, Mr. Anarchy.  I won't see you later, as I won't be at your funeral."

The plane swooped over the truck.  Death Medal grabbed a dangling rope ladder.  "Have a nice fall!" the villain called out.

Grandpa snatched up a rifle and leaped.  The truck sailed out over empty space, then fell into a ravine.  Grandpa landed at the edge of the precipice.  He rolled.  He fired at the retreating plane.  The engine sputtered and spouted smoke.

"Grandpa!" Sixteen Tons yelled.  He hung from a root ten feet below the cliff edge.  In the distance, the plane burst into flames and went down.



They found Death Medal in the plane's wreckage.  The villain's head sputtered like a spent matchstick.  "You're as persistent as an AC/DC riff," he rasped.

"Where's the Crystal Doodad?" asked Grandpa.

The villain ground his teeth.  "Crystal Weenie, you ignoramus!  And I have it right here."  He held up the tiny statue.  He grinned.  "So long, Mr. Anarchy.  You and I are on the Highway to Hell...."

There was a faint click.  Sixteen Tons shouted, "Look out, Grandpa!  He activated it!"

"Crap," Grandpa said.  As the light inside the crystal statue grew brighter, he said, "What does this doohickey do, again?"

FINI

Super Freak

Super Freak

Mark A Davis

242

The bells tolled twelve times in the tower of the Cathedral of St. Moses the Black in downtown Frosthaven, denoting the hour of Midnight.  Inside the cathedral music blared -- the strains of Slayer's Reign in Blood, blasting from a smartphone with a speaker attached.  In the foyer Grandpa Anarchy swung a gloved fist into the flaming skull of Death Medal.  The villain, dressed in a black military uniform reminiscent of the SS uniforms of Nazi Germany, flew backwards into a nativity display, scattering plaster sheep and wise men across the marble floor.

The world's oldest hero wore his usual gray suit with the anarchy symbol in silver stitched over the left breast.  Beside him his current sidekick F8Wasp (pronounced Fate Wasp) fired two darts at the villain, one of which bounced off his skull.  The young woman with long black hair wore a sleek black and silver outfit with a mask.

"What is wrong with you people?" Death Medal exclaimed as he scrambled to his feet.  The villain gripped a leather tome in one hand.  "Can't a guy plot the destruction of the uninverse in peace?  All I'm trying to do here is borrow a book."

"Without permission!" Grandpa Anarchy snarled.  "That book belongs to the secret library of the church!  Around here we call that stealing."

Death Medal flung baby Jesus at Grandpa, who ducked.  The plaster figurine shattered against a marble column.  The villain said, "I was going to put it back -- assuming, of course, that I failed in my goal and the world survived.  Obviously I wasn't going to return it if I managed to destroy the universe, that should go without saying...."

Grandpa ducked behind another column as the villain produced a pistol and opened fire.  Grandpa drew his own weapon and returned fire.  "You were planning to use the Illuminated Librum of Clemente Maleficus to destroy reality!" he exclaimed.

"Well, of course I was!" the villain said.  "Why write down such a marvelously destructive spell for all to see if you don't expect anyone to use it?  But I wasn't going to do it tonight.  That's the important part.  I was going to wait until Solstice...."

"Nobody is destroying the universe on my watch!" Grandpa roared.  He charged the villain, swinging again for the face.  Death Medal sidestepped him and sent him tumbling into Mary and Joseph.

"Oh, come on!" exclaimed Death Medal.  "Have I even done anything yet?  Is borrowing a book a crime?  I haven't even attempted to destroy the universe yet.  And let's face facts -- arresting someone for attempting to destroy the universe is like arresting someone for attempted suicide -- it's only a crime if you fail."

Grandpa scrambled to his feet.  F8Wasp fired two more darts.  These sailed straight up and lodged in a beam overhead.  "Nice shot," the villain said.  "Nearly got me...."

F8Wasp tapped her wrist computer.  Light erupted around the villain, painting a pattern on the floor.  A large circle of red lines, nearly a dozen feet wide, surrounded Death Medal.  There were symbols in bright green and cryptic blue lettering around the inside perimeter.  "Laser light magic circle," said F8Wasp.  "Can be set up anywhere instantly."  She fired two more darts into the walls.  "Multiple sources, coordinated by a computer app, so that you can't block all of them and break the circle.  It's my own invention.  I call it Daemon Quod Absens, which is bad Latin for...."

"Demon-B-Gone, yes, very clever," Death Medal said.  "Now, is this really necessary?  You're going to banish me to hell, all over a little book?  I'd hate to see what you guys do for a late fee.  Mind you, since I am demonic, this is only a temporary solution...."

"Hand over the book, Death Medal!" Grandpa exclaimed.

With a puff of acrid smoke and the stench of brimstone, a new person appeared.  This was a young woman with red skin, dressed in an outfit that was part Nazi uniform and part Playboy bunny outfit.  There were fishnet stockings, high heels, white gloves and a leather whip.  There were also curved horns jutting from her forehead.

"Not so fast, Grandpa!" the woman exclaimed.  She glared at F8Wasp.  "I'd caution you to handle that little app of yours with...."

"Kid Gloves?" Grandpa asked.

"That's Miss Kid Gloves to you!" the woman snarled.  The whip lashed out with a crack.  Grandpa jumped back.

"You've... changed," said Grandpa.  "You weren't part demon before were you?"

"Of course I wasn't," she said.  "But a human girl can become a demoness very easily.  All I had to do was inject succubus blood into my veins, then chant the Lord's Prayer backwards while having sex with a male demon -- my lovely Death Medal here...."

"Guilty as charged!" the villain replied from inside the magic circle.

"And then do it again for two hundred consecutive nights," Miss Kid Gloves finished.  "Easy!"

F8Wasp snorted.  "Easy, she says."

"The girl's a super freak in bed by the way," said Death Medal.  "Seriously.  Super.  Freak.  Which reminds me, when is some heavy metal band going to do a cover of that old classic?  The best I can find is a facebook/youtube band called The Blackout, and it's not bad -- but I want something with more bite."

Miss Kid Gloves blew a kiss to Death Medal.  "I'm here to save you, Honey!" she said.

"That's great," said Death Medal.  "Just watch out for the...."

F8Wasp fired several more darts into the ceiling and walls, then tapped her wristcomp.  Instantly a second magic circle sprang up around Miss Kid Gloves.

"So now you're a demon too?" F8Wasp asked.  "Good to know!"  She pressed a button on her comp.  The music of Slayer ended abruptly, to be replaced by chanting monks.  The magic circle made of light brightened in intensity.  Smoke arose from the floor and began to swirl around the outside of the circle.

"Wait!" exclaimed Miss Kid Gloves.  "I've never actually been to...."  The rest was cut off as she was sucked down into the ground.

Grandpa held up his hand.  "Book?" he asked.

Death Medal sighed.  "Sure, fine," he said, handing the book over.  "That spell's only good on the longest night of the year anyway.  It usually takes me a couple of weeks to return from being banished so this year's shot.  So... this time next year?"

"Or in June, in South America," said F8Wasp.

"Dang," said Death Medal.  "I was hoping you wouldn't think of that one."

F8Wasp pressed the button.

FINI

Until That Day

Until That Day

Mark A Davis

239

The hero known at F8Wasp -- pronounced "Fate Wasp" -- pulled a long steel shaft covered in ancient grease from a pile of junk.  "Ew!" she exclaimed.  The young woman had long black hair and wore a sleek black and silver outfit with a mask, and was currently the sidekick to Grandpa Anarchy, world's oldest hero.  For her current mission she'd added gloves and coveralls.  She was attempting to clear a path through a pile of junk into a corner of the Anarchy Cave.

"I swear," she said, "Pixy Dreamgirl and her team supposedly cleaned this place before their Halloween party, but you'd never know it.  There's junk everywhere."

"I suspect  that by cleaning up she meant removing years of dust," said the omnipresent voice of the new Anarchy Computer Mark 2 -- code named Annie Two.  "She did not mean actually uncluttering the place.  There's a century of stuff down here, and even I don't know what lies hidden."

"A whole lot of absolute junk, by the looks of it," said F8Wasp.

"My records only go back to the mid sixties," said Annie  Two, "when my predecessor the Anarchy Computer Mark 1 was created.  Those records largely consist of whatever the current sidekick at the time deemed worthy of adding to the data base.  I have managed to supplement some of these   records with information taken from the Temporary Superfriends computer system, and from city hall and the corporate networks of Omnigen, as well as the Grandpa Anarchy fan website, which is very well maintained, but that still leaves us with a whole swath of things that any given sidekick might have deemed unimportant, or might not have had the time to key in, not to mention a good fifty years or more of activity prior to the advent of a computer, for which our best source of information is Grandpa Anarchy himself.

"However," said the A.I., "with my most recent sensor upgrades I believe I have detected a heartbeat in this corner of the cave.  It is an anomaly for which I have no answer."

"And you're sure it's not coming from the Forgotten But Not Gone room?" asked F8Wasp.  "There are things in there which are certainly alive in some sense...."

"None that would produce a heartbeat, I think," the computer AI replied.  "I have gone over that room with Mr. Anarchy and I have a fairly complete list of what's inside it.  This is something different."

F8Wasp continued to clear a path to the corner, pulling strange objects from the pile of junk and setting them aside.  These included an ancient aquarium, several broken chairs, a retro-futuristic space rifle of some sort, jet boots, a signed photo of some long-forgotten boxing champion, and case of gin, possibly from as far back as the 1930's.  Finally she pulled aside some over-sized WWII billboards featuring Sgt. Anarchy and his support for the war effort, and revealed a large reinforced cylinder.

It was like a 19th-century bathysphere, or perhaps a sci-fi coffin or oxygen chamber circa 1910.  It was a long brass tube with reinforced rings.  It showed signs of corrosion.  There was a thick glass viewport, but it was green with dust and slime and covered with frost, and virtually opaque.  It was plugged into an electrical outlet by ancient cloth-wrapped cords, and it hummed.

F8Wasp frowned.  She tried to peer through the glass, and could see just  enough to know that a body lay inside.

***

Grandpa stared at the brass coffin.  "Huh," he said.  "Never seen it before in my life."

"I estimate that this capsule was installed between 1920 and 1935," said Annie Two.  "You have been in possession of this building since 1920, so it stand to reason you know something about it.  You may have forgotten.  We believe there is a human inside.  This capsule appears designed to keep someone alive in suspended animation."

"Okay," said Grandpa.   There was a long pause.  Annie Two and F8Wasp continued to stare at Grandpa.  "What?" he asked.  "Why are looking at me like that?  I told you, I got no idea what this is."

F8Wasp sighed.  "You mean you've had a human being in suspended animation in your basement for nearly a hundred years, and you don't remember who it is or why they're here?"

"Hey," said Grandpa.  "A hundred years was a long time ago."

"Was she possibly a sidekick of yours?" asked F8Wasp.

"Oh, no," said Grandpa.  "That much I know for sure.  My first official sidekick was Miss X in 1950.  Before that I had partners and companions, but no sidekicks.  In the twenties and thirties I had several female companions with special powers who helped me with my investigations.  There was -- let's see -- Lady Prometheus, she could conjure fire...."

"Ah, yes," said Annie Two.  "A companion of whom there was no official record until you told your story to the Princess of Purple Prose, and she published it on her web site.  I have tried making inquiries to flesh out my information on her, but of course you're practically the only person from that era who is still alive...."

"Then there was Hurricane Hazel," said Grandpa.  "She controlled weather.  There was Sub Zero Sadie, she was an pagomancer -- that is, she controlled ice.  I teamed with my brother for a while too -- Sargent Order.  And there was Miss Bloodraven, of course."

"My records do not cover most of these people," said Annie Two.  "Who was Miss Bloodraven?  What was her special talent?"

"She was a shapeshifter," said Grandpa.  "Miss Emily Sheraton.  She could turn into a very large raven, and also a panther.  I teamed with her for almost a year back in 1922.  But something happened to her -- can't remember what exactly -- and we couldn't fix it.  We had my neighbor Professor Victorian Honesty St. Normal build some kind of suspended animation coffin and we put her in it until we could figure out how to save her."  Grandpa rubbed his chin.  "You know, now that I mention it, I can't for the life of me  remember what the resolution to that problem was...."

***

Sarah Mickens, was a young woman who was leader of the Continuity Crusaders.  Formerly known as Kid Continuity, she had recently gained new powers and a new costume due to participating in something called an Infinite Secret Crisis Wars, and now called herself Continuitae, Avatar of Continuity.  She was dressed like an extra from Sailor Moon, with a white leotard, dark purple skirt with a stardust pattern, thigh-high boots of white with purple trim, and a necklace and tiara set with amethysts.  There were many ribbons, ruffles, bows, and bracelets.

She clapped her hands together.  "Oh, this is so exciting!" she exclaimed.  "An honest-to-gosh Grandpa Anarchy mystery!  I know absolutely nothing about most of the companions Grandpa worked with in the twenties and thirties -- I mean, some of them are mentioned in Evron Lempel's pulp stories, but he played fast and loose with reality and so you never know if a story companion is based on a real person, or simply made up.  Miss Bloodraven appears in two stories -- Broke Down in Bandersnatch Hollow and The Mind Snare From the Pit.  But I had always assumed a woman who transformed into a giant bird was one of Mr. Lempel's more fanciful inventions."

Beside Continuitae was her companion, Freya Willikins, aka Saturnae, Avatar of Time.  She also looked like a rejected Sailor Moon character, with a white leotard, boots, and brown skirt that approximated a clock when seen from above, and a staff with an hourglass symbol on top.  The necklace, tiara and bracelets were set with chocolate diamonds.

"So the question is," said F8Wasp, "why is Miss Sheraton sealed away like a biology sample?  Did she had an inoperable tumor?  A disease for which there was no cure?  Was she sick in some way?"

"Something like that," said Grandpa.  He shrugged.

"I am still reading vital signs," Annie Two the computer AI replied.  "I should be able to revive her, but it would help to know what ails her before we do so."

"I was never very good at keeping records or journals," said Grandpa, "that's kind of the sidekick's job, and this was before I had sidekicks...."

"Well," said Continuitae, "that's a problem which Saturnae and I can solve.  Before we  revive her, we'll go back in time and figure out why she was put in this pickle jar in the first place.   That way we can be prepared to deal with the problem when we revive her."

"Nah," said Grandpa, "we don't got time for that.  Let's just open up this coffin and find out that way!"

Continuitae frowned.  "Grandpa," she said, "firstly we've got all the time in the world.  Miss Bloodraven has lain in this coffin for nearly 100 years, she can lay there a few more weeks if necessary.  Secondly, time travel does not take any time by definition.  We'll be back before you know it."

"You mean we're going to do things just because they're logical?" Grandpa exclaimed.  "Where's the sense in that?"

Continuitae just rolled her eyes.  She took Saturnae's hand.  Saturnae held her staff overhead and called out, "Khronos, time gate!"  The two vanished.

"Great," said Grandpa.  "How long are we supposed to...."

Continuitae and Saturnae reappeared.  "For the love of god, do not unseal that coffin!" Continuitae exclaimed.

***

"In his story The Mind Snare From the Pit," said Continuitae, "Everon Lempel tells the tale of a demonic entity that ensnares Miss Bloodraven and possesses her body.  They only cast it out with the aid of the Supreme Sorcerer of the World.  In Lempel's story that was a made-up man named Alexander Mark Cabal, but in reality, the Supreme Sorceress of the World in the 1920's was a woman named Dermota Avalon."

It was a day later, and multiple people were gathered around the strange brass coffin.  Along with Grandpa, his sidekick F8Wasp, Continuitae and Saturnae, they now had a medical doctor named Doctor Emily Zoldak -- who had once been a sidekick to Grandpa Anarchy named Girl Zodiac.  Also present were Dark Dr. Dark, the Supreme Sorcerer of the World (seven times running, non-consecutive) and Black Dahlia, his former sidekick and disciple.

"Ms. Avalon was my mentor," said Dark Dr. Dark.  "She was a very powerful woman."

"However, the events in Lempel's story were not made up," said Continuitae.  "Miss Bloodraven was possessed by a demonic entity...."

"Yeah," said Grandpa.  "I remember it all now.  The demon's name is Hamorai, and it's a very powerful one.  Problem was, Dermota Avalon wasn't on earth at the time, so there was no one to deal with the demon.  After two days of fighting we managed to subdue it and sealed poor Miss Bloodraven away until the day we could get Ms. Avalon to cast out the demon...."

"What happened?" asked Dark Dr. Dark.

"Well," said Grandpa, "I got kind of busy dealing with an alien cult, and then there was that business with the Deros from underground, and that thing with the yeti, and that sorceress from dimension X...."  Grandpa shrugged.  "We just forgot about it."

"Well," said Dark Dr. Dark, "the day for revival has arrived.  If Miss Dahlia is ready, then please open the coffin...."

Grandpa and F8Wasp unsealed the chamber.  The upper half swung up and open.  Revealed within was a lovely young woman in a red dress, apparently sleeping peacefully.  Ice crystals clung to the sides of the coffin, and wisps of vapor  rose from the cold interior.

Doctor Zoldak leaned over and placed her hand on the girl's forehead, then her chest.  "She's cold," the doctor said, "but breathing...."

The girl stirred, then opened her eyes.  They filled with a red rage and an unearthly glow.  "Oh.  My.  Infernal.  Majesty," the girl said.  "Ninety-four fracking years!  Ninety-four!  I was only going to possess this girl for an afternoon!  Ninety-four years!  By all that's Unholy, can't you people even be bothered to banish a poor demon...."

Dark Dr. Dark and Black Dahlia began to chant.  "Hades, yes!" the girl exclaimed.  "Banish me back to the pits from whence I came!  Seal my soul!  Forbid me from returning to the mortal plane!  I haven't been home in ninety-four years...."

The sorcerer and sorceress finished  their spell of banishment.  "Begone, foul demon!" Dark Dr. Dark exclaimed.  "Leave this earthly vessel and return from whence you came!"

The body of Miss Emily Sheraton writhed and convulsed.  "Yes!  Yes!" she exclaimed.  F8Wasp and Continuitae held her down.  "Yes!  Someone finally gets it right!  Thank you!  Thank youuuuuuuu..."

The light faded from the woman's eyes.  She collapsed, lifeless.

***

Miss Emily Sheraton slept peacefully in a medical bed that had been set up in the Anarchy mansion.  There did not appear to be anything wrong with her, but two days had passed with no signs that she would ever awaken again.  Dark Dr. Dark, Doctor Zoldak, F8Wasp, Grandpa and Annie Two -- the A.I. appeared on a nearby monitor -- watched over her.

"Her soul appears to have long ago fled," said Dark Dr. Dark.  "Since she was not in possession of her own body, there was no preventing it from leaving.  In essence, she moved out and left the demon holding the lease.  Now that the demon has been banished, what we have left is an empty husk."

"I am unable to detect or measure a soul," said Annie Two.  "But what I can determine is that there is no higher brain activity.  It is as if the girl is braindead.  There appears to be nothing of her left, save the body itself."

"All we can do now," said Doctor Zoldak, "is wait, and pray.  Perhaps a miracle will bring her back to us."

"That seems unlikely," the computer said.

"Stranger things have happened," said Grandpa.  "Around here, more often than not.  You just watch."

***

A week later, Miss Sheraton awoke.

"Ha!" exclaimed Grandpa.  "I told you!  Stranger things have happened!  There, see?  She's alive!"

"Indeed she is," said Annie Two.

F8Wasp smiled.  "It's a miracle, I guess?" she suggested.

"Shows what you know, Annie!" Grandpa crowed.

"Yes, it does," the girl in the bed replied.  "Apparently I was wrong, Mr. Anarchy.  My mistake."

Grandpa did a double-take.  The voice had sounded remarkably like the A.I., but hadn't the words been spoken by Miss Sheridan?

Grandpa stared at the young woman for a long moment.  "You know," he said, "I heard F8Wasp and Annie Two  talking very late last night.  Something about machines with souls...."

"Ah," the young woman in bed said.  "We were discussing whether an artificial intelligence can have a soul.  We know a human soul can possess a machine, for that is exactly what Girlbot 9000 is -- a human soul in a robotic body.  But is the reverse also possible?  Could an artificial intelligence possess a human body?"  She shrugged.  "I guess we'll never know."

Grandpa stared at the woman.  He glanced up at the image of Annie Two -- who always appeared to be some kind of 19th-century librarian.  "Who was speaking, just now?" he asked.

Miss Sheraton blinked.  She exchanged a glance with F8Wasp and the image of Annie Two.  "That was... the computer AI, of course," she said.  "Why would I say that?"

"What Miss Sheraton means," Annie Two added, "is that she overheard us speaking last night, as she was coming out of her coma.  She's still a bit confused, having slept for ninety-four years.  Naturally."

"Yes," said Miss Sheraton.  "That's it.  Of course.  My name is Miss Emily Sheraton, aka Miss Bloodraven.  I was your companion in 1922.  I was momentarily confused -- just an error in programming, nothing more."  She smiled and added, "I am human.  Humans make mistakes; everyone knows this.  But don't worry -- everything's going to be just fine from now on."

FINI