By David C. Daoust
While it was true that Gordon Hitch was getting older- it hardly showed. The challenges in his life were few and far between, each overcome with a grace and style any onlooker, he was sure, would find impressive. Not only had he been top of his class, in every class, he was also incredibly hansom. Even to him, this was a highly suspect aspect of how he saw himself– an aspect worth studying. After a series of controlled experimentation, and a long list of women, –the research was in! Gordon Hitch had no reason to doubt– not only was he as incredibly hansom as he thought, he was also unreasonably vain.
Gordon always had a good head on his shoulders, such a thing can take you pretty far. Throughout his studies, throughout his work and interests, making that head better had been foremost on his mind. When he got around 32-33 years of age, however, suddenly he realized his head was actually getting bigger… yet, not necessarily better. This was thanks to the sudden evacuation of hair follicles! The little traitors!
Truth be told his interests had already shifted to studying solid-light lattices- and their construction.
Truth be told, he really wasn’t any better at it than anyone else in the field.
Stumped– all of ‘em.
Solid-light engineering, to many, had found its limits. Any kind of functionality would stunt the size of the lattices; the more complex, the smaller the construct would have to be.
It was not until Gordon tried to figure out how to make all those thousands of strands, to look and move naturally, that he gained the insight that allowed him to break through that limit. In fact, shattered the barrier that stopped all his colleagues from successfully building constructs larger than small animals.
Royal Alliance Universities had a way of expecting your research to belong to them- to the state, to the people. Hitch never agreed to such a thing. Of course, the solid-light toupees were one thing, but once he had technology that would surely change the entirety of the Onion, it was paramount for him to protect this proprietary technology.
Luckily, one Bernard Vice, also had a slight problem with hair follicle abandonment, which meant, put simply, the friends were there. Once again Gordon managed to use his head, this time, to make an inordinate amount of money.
The groundbreaking Solid-light Engineer, left the Royal Alliance far behind when he moved to Halfhul.
Notably, on his way out of his old life, he decided to liberate a pair of data-spheres. Low caliber data-spheres, maybe. In fact, ‘Sunny’ and ‘Rex’ had the intelligence levels of domesticated dogs- which would be the simulation that their programs began with in the Hub. These particular spheres had been used for the past couple hundred years to help teach University students Advanced Robotics. They were forced into various bodies of varying ‘quality’. One particular student had plugged them into robotic spiders! Gordon could not imagine they enjoyed that! To think –dogs– in the bodies of –spiders-. He felt like the poor pups had been tortured enough. Gordon took it upon himself to, maybe, give them a turn at a life a bit more consistent. Of course, it did not hurt to have subjects for his experimentation on larger and larger lattices- thus the solid-light Shadowhounds that have faithfully followed him around since their construction.
Working with the Organization proved lucrative, allowed Gordon to take his research to its apex. The Solid-light human form was a prize-winning feat. One that could never be publicized, less it lose its very purpose. Hitch was okay with that truth, quickly found himself returning to his other lifelong experimentation. The man lost night after night to dance clubs, alcohol, and an inordinate number of women– but mostly, alcohol. Hitch never found out why, exactly, there were so many women on Halfhul- he liked his odds, though.
And so, the lives of a solid-light engineer and a pair of Shadowhounds would continue on. That is, until all the changes that started to pop-up in and around the Crucible, Halfhul. He was not alone, many of those that considered Halfhul their home, were wise to the changes as well. The nurse, Deloris, among them.
A nurse whose worried pacing was suddenly interrupted as Gordon led Colin Vice into the upper quarters of Halfhul- the pair of hounds close on his heels.
The sight of which was an obvious relief to the woman. A woman who had been anxiously waiting for their return within the small living space afforded her, for her work within the station. It was a warm room; furnished comfortably, and neatly kept.
“You made it!” the nurse declared.
“I did indeed,” Hitch answered despite the fact the woman was clearly talking to, a rather tired looking, Colin.
“Did you explain the plan?” Deloris, shifting her attention to Hitch, asked urgently.
“Not yet, No,” Hitch answered as he patted down his pant pockets. His hands starting at the front and working his way to the back, they came up empty as he pondered a moment, before explaining, “We were a bit busy with all the escaping…”
The urgency was lost on the pair of dogs— they found a rather plush couch to lounge upon. One stretched and yawned languishingly, pressing his paws into the other. The second just, abashedly, accepted the limbs pressing his head further into the cushions. Those that knew the pair, knew there was now a clock ticking away on how long, exactly, such an acceptance would last before it, suddenly, turned into an all-out brawl.
“We need to get these things moving,” the nurse pushed, “The longer it’s still behind the shield— the higher the chance they find a way back in!”
“I know that…” Hitch said searching through his coat. Then asked, as though the thought was ludicrous, “You think I don’t know that?”
“I know you knew it! You’re looking a bit unsteady at the moment!” she accused just as Gordon finally found the very thing he was rummaging around for within all his many pockets. A small flask, notably, of Whiskey.
‘More whiskey should help with that very thing,’ he thought as he threw a swig to the back of his throat.
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