CHAPTER TWO
August 31, 2000, 10:15 a.m.
Pierce residence, Washington, D.C.
Brilliant sunshine poured in Pierce's windows, the stifling heat of a summer in Washington palpable even through air conditioning. Brivari had spent a good deal of time in this humid sweat box these last few months posing as this or that human as he and Jaddo worked together to bring the Unit to its knees, a job which had proven more difficult than expected. For all that the FBI's director was eager to get rid of Pierce, he was considerably less eager to allow others to poke their respective noses into what he considered his business. Their goal being the destruction of not just Pierce, but the Unit itself, it had taken some determined wrangling on both their parts to ensure the upcoming congressional hearings on the future of the Unit actually took place, which made the notion of Jaddo putting them in jeopardy especially unappealing.
"You expect Vanessa to deal the Unit's death blow," Brivari said. "And why would she do that? She obviously cosied up to Pierce because she wanted to know what the Unit knew. Why would she undermine it?"
"She won't be doing it willingly," Jaddo said. "I gave her information about the 'unidentified element' found in the bodies of those we've executed so she'd use it as justification for keeping the Unit alive."
"And...?"
"And when she does, I'll say we made it up. She'll look like a total fool, and so will anyone else she's been lobbying to support the Unit. Nice, eh?"
Brivari resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "Our purpose here was to bring down the Unit," he said patiently. "The
Unit, not the Argilians. We already brought them down back in 1950, remember? We destroyed their next crop of husks? Commandeered their ship? Sent it back home with a love note from Zan that made Khivar so angry, he spanked Nicholas across the galaxy? This ringing any bells?"
"A church tower full," Jaddo answered cheerfully. "So what? What's a little more humiliation among enemies? Why not kill two birds with one stone?"
"Because we're trying to kill
one bird," Brivari reminded him. "One big ass bird.
One. When you try to kill two, you frequently wind up killing neither. We can't afford to take that chance."
"What 'chance'?" Jaddo said. "There's no 'chance' about it. She'll bring it to the committee. I know she will. And when she does—"
"She'll realize that she's been had," Brivari finished. "And then what?"
"And then...what?" Jaddo shrugged. "You don't really expect me to go all fuzzy wuzzy about her feelings, do you?"
"I expect you to keep your eye on the prize," Brivari said pointedly. "The Unit is our chief enemy at the moment, not Nicholas. At this point he's just a washed up former First with a paltry collection of soldiers blundering around the globe."
"Oh, of course," Jaddo said dryly. "Which is why you installed an Argilian rebel in Roswell to warn us at the first sign of his arrival following the hybrids stupidly using that communicator. No, of course Nicholas is nothing. We can just ignore him."
"I'm not suggesting we ignore him, and I'm not ignoring him," Brivari said, "which is why said rebel is currently bussing tables at the Crashdown. I would simply prefer not to fight on two fronts simultaneously. Take the Unit down first, and then we'll be free to turn our full attention to Nicholas if and when that becomes necessary."
" 'If and when'? What, you think he's going to ignore that signal?"
"He has so far," Brivari noted. "And I'd like to keep it that way as long as possible."
"Your point?"
"Is that...put some clothes on, would you?" Brivari finished crossly. "Better yet, shift. I'm getting tired of looking at the man who almost killed my Ward."
"Sensitive, aren't we?" Jaddo said dryly, nevertheless plopping into a nearby chair wearing a new shape and clothing. "I believe you were mid-point?"
Brivari paused, both hands clasped in front of him. "I haven't brought this up because I was hoping I wouldn't have to—"
"Here it comes," Jaddo muttered.
"—and because I know how much you like it here," Brivari continued, ignoring him. "I haven't seen you this happy in ages."
"Indeed," Jaddo agreed, "and why not? They may pride themselves on their 'democracy', but this city is every bit as full of scandal and intrigue as any palace in any monarchy. The wheeling and dealing, the back-stabbing, the constantly changing alliances...democracy, my foot."
"It's politics," Brivari shrugged. "Monarchies and democracies are merely systems of government, and government, any government, is merely a framework for politics. The framework may change, but the politics don't."
"Call it what you like, I love it!" Jaddo said with relish. "And I'm good at it. And I sense you're now about to rain on my parade."
"I know you love it, and I agree you're good at it," Brivari said. "I can do it, but I don't enjoy it the way you do. Parade all you want."
"Then what?" Jaddo said. "Or perhaps I should say, what now?"
"You're already taking a huge risk by posing as Pierce for this long," Brivari said. "You're taking an even bigger risk by posing as a lover, and a bigger risk still by posing as a lover to Nicholas's lover. She's not stupid."
"Didn't say she was. And it's worth noting that neither am I. I'm very careful."
"I'm sure you are, but it wouldn't be any one thing," Brivari said. "It would be a long list of small things which, by themselves, wouldn't trip any alarms. You can fool his underlings, but fooling a lover is something else entirely."
"Well, thanks so much for telling me that!" Jaddo said with mock gratitude. "I would never have guessed! Honestly, what would I do without you around to point out the screamingly obvious?"
"Jaddo—"
"Do you seriously believe I didn't think of this?" Jaddo demanded, reverting to his more familiar fury. "Do you seriously think I don't know how to do this? How do you think I've lasted this long? Sheer luck?"
"Partly," Brivari admitted. "And—"
"Bullshit!" Jaddo declared. "Pierce held Vanessa at arm's length—hate to say it, but he wasn't entirely stupid—so I was careful to keep her at arm's length and ignore her pleas for information until just now because doing so earlier would have been a departure from his usual behavior. Avoiding his underlings has been easy; Pierce is a sinking ship, and no one wants to get too close lest they go down with it. The man had no friends to speak of save that Brian creature, and I maneuvered Congressional hearings on the Unit despite Freeh paddling as fast as he could in the opposite direction."
"Actually,
we maneuvered Congressional hearings, but whatever," Brivari noted. "And I didn't say you didn't know what you're doing—"
"Then pray tell what
are you saying?"
Brivari fixed him with a level stare. "I'm saying you know exactly what you're doing. This isn't just about bringing the Unit down any more. This is a personal vendetta."
Jaddo's expression darkened. "And what if it is?"
Brivari sighed heavily. "Shit. I was hoping I was wrong."
"Why?" Jaddo demanded. "Nicholas killed my Ward. He killed
your Ward and our king, and now he's ensconced in a seat of power. So what if I want to punish him for the first and neutralize the second? So what if the opportunity to do so unexpectedly dropped into my lap?"
"So the one thing Nicholas hates most of all is humiliation," Brivari said, "and Vanessa is no different. You may think you've fooled her, but believe me, you haven't. She's amassed a list of oddities which she just hasn't had a good reason to pay close attention to. What you're proposing will give her that reason."
"Great," Jaddo said savagely. "First you dismiss me from Roswell because my performance wasn't up to par, and now you take issue with my performance here? I may not be tuned in to adolescent angst, but I'm completely tuned in to every single thing that goes on in this nest of vipers, and contrary to your assessment, I know exactly what I'm doing, Brivari—I always have."
"If that's the case, then you know she's likely going to figure you out," Brivari said.
"She won't get the chance," Jaddo retorted. "As soon as she serves my purpose, she's dead."
Brivari raised an eyebrow. "You're going to execute Vanessa?"
"Yes. And when she disappears, he'll come running to Washington. And then I'll execute him."
"I see," Brivari sighed. "You've got it all planned out, have you?"
"Of course I do.
This is what I know.
This is what I do. So you run along back to Roswell and get all touchy feely with Zan's psychiatrist, or whoever those human parents of his have him seeing now. That's what
you do."
"Indeed," Brivari murmured. "And something else I 'do' is predict how people will behave, a skill you noticeably lack. You're assuming you know how all the various players in your drama will behave...but that's not what you do, Jaddo. It never has been."
"So, what, now I'm supposed to leave Washington too?" Jaddo demanded. "Are you going to banish me from yet another venue?"
Brivari shook his head. "Wouldn't help. Just promise me this—when the time comes, kill her quickly. Before she kills you."
*****************************************************
Crashdown Cafe, Roswell
"So what'cha got planned for the rest of this fine summer day?"
Michael looked up from his locker. "Nothing special."
"I remember summers when I was your age," Mr. Parker said, leaning against a nearby locker. "Two months of total freedom. God, I miss that. Guess yours ended a little earlier than most, but at least you don't have school in the summer." He paused. "We're glad to have you here, Michael, but how's the job working out for you? I know it was hard working and going to school."
"Cost of doing business," Michael shrugged.
"You sure? Because we could cut your hours this fall if we needed to—"
"No," Michael said quickly. "It's all good, Mr. P. And I'm really grateful you gave me the chance to support myself."
"Well, you let me know if you need some breathing room," Mr. Parker said. "And enjoy these last few days of summer."
As if I could, Michael thought wearily as Mr. Parker left. Summer used to mean freedom, long stretches of time while Hank was at the plant and no homework. Then he got emancipated, and summer meant more work, but no homework. And then all hell broke loose last May, and summer meant more work and feverishly preparing for an ambush that could strike at any moment and take any form. Oh, for those lazy days of summer and his good friend, ignorance.
Set off those orbs, and you have no idea who you may be leading straight to us.
He'd wanted to know. Tess had certainly wanted to know, and in a surprising twist, even Max had wanted to know. Only Isabel had been a holdout. None of that, however, excused the fact that he had ploughed ahead in the face of Nasedo's direct warning and sent out a clarion call to their enemies. At first, in the initial flush of knowledge, he'd ignored that, considering it well worth the risk to finally get some information about their origins. But then Tess had come back with the answer to a question she'd asked Nasedo during one of those rare visits to Roswell where he communed only with her and which the rest of them only learned of after the fact. What, he'd wanted to know, did "second in command" mean, exactly? How could one be "second in command" to a king? What did that make him, a Vice King? Junior King? Assistant King? None of those things, as it turned out.
You were the head of Max's armies, Tess reported.
Kind of like our world's version of General MacArthur.
He'd spent an entire night on his couch staring into space, digesting that one. Having not expected any answer, he was startled to not only receive one, but to discover that his former profession appealed to him. A military man. A protector. A commander of armies. Somewhere deep inside him, that felt right and proper and true. But that made his lapse in judgment all the more unforgivable; how was it that their protector had turned them into a huge blinking target? It's not like he hadn't been warned. Not a day had gone by when he didn't ask himself if he'd do it again, if he'd activate those orbs knowing what he knew now. Part of him said that if enemies were out there, they were likely to show up anyway, so wasn't it better to choose the time and place of their meeting? The other part of him said that none of them were ready, that they'd barely survived the scrape with enemies from this world, never mind another. Both could be right...or wrong. But what was done was done, so the only thing left was to prepare. If disaster struck, it would be on his head because he knew that even if everyone else had voted down activating the orbs, he would have returned to the pod chamber alone and done it himself.
"Hey."
"Oh...hey," Michael said as Maria hovered nearby.
"So...what do you have planned for the rest of the day?"
"Nothing much," Michael said evasively. "Gotta run."
"Have you gotten any of my messages?" Maria asked, stepping in front of him as he tried to move around her.
"Yes, Maria, I've gotten every single one of your 1,452 messages," Michael answered. "And it doesn't matter. I don't have time for this now. I've got more important things on my mind."
"Like what?" Maria demanded. "Nothing's happened. There are no spaceships hovering over Roswell except the kitschy kind, no one-eyed lizards, no Stay Puft Marshmallow Man storming through the streets."
"Thank you for trivializing my very existence," Michael deadpanned. "Excuse me."
"I just meant that destroying us, what we had together, doesn't serve any useful purpose," Maria said desperately. "It's not doing anyone any good."
"You mean it's not doing
you any good," Michael translated. "It's doing me plenty of good. I need to keep my focus and keep practicing."
" 'Practicing'?" Maria said. "Practicing for what, exactly? Is this why you're never home after work?"
"What, now you're stalking me?" Michael demanded. "Nice one, Maria. Move."
"Not until you tell me what you're doing!" Maria said stubbornly. "I can help you, you know."
"No, you really can't," Michael said.
"Yes, I can! I—"
Maria stopped as Tess came in the back door. "Hey, Michael," Tess called. "Ready?"
"So ready," Michael answered. "Let's go."
" 'Go'?" Maria echoed incredulously. "With her? Where in the world are you going with her?"
" 'Her' has a name," Tess said pointedly, "one I know you're familiar with and would appreciate you using."
"So you and her...you and her are..." Maria stopped with a look of horror on her face, unable to complete that sentence.
"No, we're not dating," Tess said. "I'm helping Michael learn to use his powers so we'll all be ready."
"Ready for what?" Maria demanded.
"For anything," Michael answered. "For everything. And don't tell me 'nothing's happened'," he went on, cutting her off mid-sentence. "What you mean is, 'Nothing's happened
yet'."
"And may not," Maria said stubbornly.
"But probably will," Michael corrected. "Nasedo may be a dick, but he's right about most things."
"Exactly," Tess agreed. "If Nasedo says we have enemies, we have enemies. If he's worried those communicators tipped them off to where we are, we should be worried too."
"And that includes you," Michael said. "I'm doing this for you too, you know."
"For me?" Maria repeated. "For
me. Oh, that's rich.
I never asked you to do this.
I never—"
"You don't get it, do you?" Michael said in exasperation. "Everything isn't always about
you. This isn't just about you, or me, or Max, or anyone. This is about a planet. An entire world.
My world."
"Our world," Tess amended.
"If I'm not ready, I'm not just letting everyone here down," Michael went on, "I'm letting everyone on an entire planet down. We're responsible for them. We're supposed to go back and save them, and I don't have the first idea how to do that. So this is my way of getting a first idea about how to do that."
"But...you live
here," Maria protested. "You don't even remember them."
"I did," Michael said quietly. "After the sweat. I know I did."
"And if our enemies come for us, they'll come for anyone who helps us," Tess added. "They'll come for you, Maria, and Liz, and Alex, and the sheriff. This is for you, too, for all of you."
"So if we're all in trouble, shouldn't we all stick together?" Maria argued.
"Have you mentioned that to Liz?" Michael asked. "Because I'm pretty sure high-tailing it to Florida isn't 'sticking together'. And no, I don't need another lecture about how 'hurt' she was, and how wounded, and how whatever," he went on as Tess's eyes dropped. "I'm just sayin'. And now I'm saying goodbye. There's Courtney—why don't you go pick on her. That seems to be your main form of entertainment these days."
*****************************************************
"Everything okay?"
"Yeah, just peachy," Maria muttered. "Freakin' wonderful."
So I see, Courtney thought, watching Rath and Ava leave through the back door as Maria scowled. "Good," she said lightly. "Can you cover me?"
"What, again?" Maria demanded. "That's the second time in an hour!"
"You can count," Courtney observed. "I like that in a woman. Or a man."
Maria gave her the evil eye. "What are you doing in there, anyway? The backstroke?"
Courtney raised an eyebrow. "You want details?"
"You want me to throw up? Go," Maria said irritably. "Make it snappy."
Escaping into the bathroom, Courtney stared into the mirror. Her husk was getting worse, noticeably worse than it had been in Seattle's cooler climate. The good news was that Nicholas and company would be suffering a similar decline in the heat of Copper Summit, at least as hot, if not hotter, than Roswell. The bad news was that she was too. She went through a bottle of moisturizer a day, but that had only slightly stemmed the tide of decaying skin cells which peeled off like a reptile's skin. She'd come to recognize the symptoms, the tight feeling at her hairline, around her upper arm, or inside her leg, followed by a tab of skin coming loose, followed by a blizzard of flakes. Fortunately her shedding skin could pass for human skin most of the time, but she knew what it meant; when humans shed, the old skin cells were making way for the new, but when her skin shed, it was dying. No new cells for her. What she had was all she had, and when it was gone, it was gone for good.
The tightness this time was in her neck. Digging her fingernails beneath her jaw line, Courtney found the tab she was looking for and began to pull. She'd learned that she could stem the tide of flaking by preemptively peeling off a sheet of skin while it still held together, and she did so now, carefully removing a sheet roughly the size and shape of the front half of her neck.
I'm like one of those zip-open boxes, she thought, holding it up for inspection,
only my rip strips keep moving. The sheet shimmered in the fluorescent bathroom light, semi-transparent, seemingly substantial...and then abruptly disintegrated, showering flakes all over her arm, the sink, the floor. Cursing, she wet a paper towel and began mopping up. Usually she got the sheet into the toilet and flushed it before it went all flaky on her, but of course this time she had to lose herself in introspection and make a mess.
That disappearing sheet of cells could be a metaphor for her presence here, a presence which had seemed so necessary three months ago but now seemed anti-climactic because precisely nothing had happened. Nicholas had not appeared as feared, probably assuming the Royal Four had moved on, which they should have, of course. Zan had not fallen to pieces after his capture. The Special Unit was circling the drain courtesy of the Warders. No one had figured out that the Daniel Pierce currently in Washington wasn't really Daniel Pierce. No one had figured out that she wasn't human. After taking Brivari's advice to be a less efficient waitress, Maria had cut back on the hounding, settling instead for a kind of weary disgust which was amusing when it wasn't annoying. None of the expected bogeymen had come home to roost, good news, certainly, but also bad news in that she had nothing to do but wait tables, and fret, and piss off Maria by repeatedly going to the bathroom to peel off sheets of skin.
Everyone needs a hobby, she thought as she left the bathroom, or so the humans said.
"You okay?"
It was a genuinely concerned looking Mr. Parker, with a genuinely annoyed looking Maria behind him. "Yeah. Everything's good," Courtney assured him.
Mr. Parker hesitated. "Maria says you've been...um..."
"Going to the bathroom a lot?" Courtney finished. "Yeah, that happens when you have your period."
Mr. Parker promptly displayed the typical male human response when confronted with the reality of a female's monthly reproductive cycle—he backed up so far, he was practically on Antar. "Oh...oh God," he stammered, flushing. "I didn't know. I'm so sorry."
"Don't be," Courtney answered. "It's not your fault."
"No, I don't...I didn't mean...look, why don't you take the rest of the day off?" Mr. Parker said, still squirming.
"Why?" Maria demanded.
"Yeah, why?" Courtney agreed. "I don't have cancer, I just have my period. It's not a tragedy; it's just a nuisance."
But a second mention of the "P" word sent Mr. Parker over the edge. "I insist," he insisted, putting an arm around Courtney's shoulders and steering her toward the lockers. "Go rest. Go lie down. Go..."
"Go do whatever we do when we have our periods?" Courtney suggested as he winced once again at the "P" word. "Actually, we pretty much just get on with it. Kinda have to."
"But if you're in the bathroom so much, that must mean it's...it's...look, the workload is light today, so it's okay," Mr. Parker babbled, backing hastily out of the corner he'd just backed himself into. "You can take Agnes' shift tomorrow and make up the hours. She just called in sick."
"Does she have her period?" Courtney asked.
"No, she's too old for...no," Mr. Parker finished, turning beet red. "Hope you feel better. Gotta run."
And run he did, practically sprinting away before even worse words than "period" were spoken, like "flow" and "cramps" and "menopause".
Men, Courtney thought with amusement. They were the same everywhere. Antarian females didn't have periods they way humans did, but they certainly had reproductive cycles which were every bit as terrifying to males. Funny how some things stayed the same even while lots of other things were different.
"Happy?" Maria demanded. "He's probably scarred for life."
"The guy's got a wife and a daughter," Courtney said. "If he's scarred, I'm not the one who scarred him. Besides, I think it's all just about men being terrified of childbirth or anything even vaguely connected with childbirth. If the propagation of the species were up to men, we'd all die."
"You can say that again," Maria chuckled. "Wimps, all of them. 'Weaker sex', my ass—wait," she added warily. "Are we bonding?"
"Beats me," Courtney shrugged. "Are we?"
"Absolutely not," Maria said firmly. "Because I'm not buying this."
"Guess we're not bonding then," Courtney said. "Bummer."
"Great," Maria said sourly. "Sarcasm."
"Mmm," Courtney agreed. "You'd know all about that, wouldn't you?"
Maria's eyes flared. "Honey, this is the oldest trick in the book," she said crossly. "It gets us out of gym class, chores, homework, and now
work work. Everyone knows men hide under the couch if we even mention our periods, but don't expect me to hide with him."
Courtney pulled her purse out of her locker. "Do I look like I'm expecting that? I offered you details, and you declined. Offer's still open—would you like to check? We can go in the bathroom, and I'll drop my drawers, and you can...whoa! Where are you going? Say, does this qualify as 'hiding under the couch'?"
Maria uttered something not entirely comprehensible, but probably unprintable as she threw both hands in the air and rapidly retreated. Just as well, really, as she certainly had nothing to show her; for all that husks admirably simulated human systems including the act of mating, the illusion ended there. She probably shouldn't bait her, but Maria was just so easy to bait; sarcastic and suspicious, always ready with a pithy remark or retort—in short, just the kind of friend the Royal Four needed. Of their human friends, Maria was the only one she'd seen enough to evaluate, with Zan's girlfriend being gone all summer, the tall one—Alex?—off at a computer camp for weeks, and the sheriff's son at some kind of sports camp. Perhaps she should think of these confrontations as keeping Maria in good fighting shape during this down time, because for all that nothing was happening now, something surely would, and then they'd need every bit of that sass to get them through it.
The sun was high in the sky as Courtney walked home, regretting having been dismissed. Having nothing to do just gave her more time to fret, with no shortage of things to fret about despite the relative calm in Roswell. She fretted about her failing husk, a daily reminder that the clock was running out. She fretted about the fate of Antar, whose people were pinning their hopes on a king who did little else besides pine for his human girlfriend, a princess who was becoming borderline paranoid, and a queen who was already borderline marginalized. For while Zan's expected breakdown had not occurred, the fact remained that he was moody and withdrawn beyond the usual described to her by both Dee and Brivari, more interested in Liz's absence than the fate of his planet or the possible arrival of enemies. Vilandra, by contrast, seemed to think of nothing else, jumping at the slightest thing, always with a wild look in her eye as though she were trying to stop herself from screaming. Ava, on the other hand, was calm, cool, almost detached...and unwelcome. Not officially, of course, as the Four hung together often, but when they did, she could tell—there was the three of them, and Ava. If this bothered Ava, she didn't show it, and that itself was unnerving, as was the fact that she'd been virtually raised by Jaddo. Covari were only barely tolerable on a good day, so to have one as a "parent" was too awful a notion to even contemplate. What kind of "child" would result from such an experiment?
The key turned in the lock, and Courtney opened the front door of the house Brivari had provided her. She was a kept woman, no doubt about it, and no argument either; here, at the end of her life, she would just as well not have to deal with things like food and shelter. Tossing her purse on the table, she opened the doors on the cabinet in the living room and feasted her eyes on the one thing Antar still had going for it—Rath. Alone among the Four, Rath appeared to have been steadied by the events last spring. While Zan was distracted, he was focused. While Vilandra was frightened, he was resolute. While Ava was left out, he still had the ear of both the king and his sister. Rath knew his priorities and had his eyes on home, so much so that Maria had pursued him all summer without success. "He says he can't get involved with me again!" she'd sobbed to Liz via phone one summer evening. "He says he can't get distracted!"
You go, boy, Courtney had thought approvingly...and sadly. That promise her father had made all those years ago to Jaddo, the one she'd been loathe to fulfill, was now looking like an excellent idea. Trouble was she wouldn't live to fulfill it, and she reached out to brush her finger over a photograph, wondering if there was any way...
"Hello?"
Courtney hastily closed the cabinet doors. "Saw the door open, so I just let myself in," Dee said. "Is that a new cabinet?"
She didn't see, Courtney thought, relieved. "Yep; brand new," she said out loud. "Gotta love being on the crown's tab."
"He might have gotten you a bigger house," Dee said.
"That would have looked even weirder than this one on a waitress's salary," Courtney noted. "It's a sweet deal. Basically I just buy stuff, and Brivari pays for it. I don't know if he's being magnanimous, or if he's planning on having a giant garage sale after I'm gone."
"Then he'll have to hold off on pasting all the little price stickers," Dee said dryly. "You're not gone yet."
"But I will be," Courtney answered.
"But you're not yet," Dee insisted. "It's never over 'till it's over, and it's not over."
"The oracle hath spoken," Courtney chuckled. "You're wasting your time, but I gotta tell you, it tickles me to know you'll defy fate right up to the moment the fat lady sings or my husk explodes. Whichever comes first."
"Up to
and including," Dee said firmly. "I don't believe in fate. And I don't give up easy."
"Don't I know it," Courtney said fondly.
"Good," Dee said. "So you'll know better than to dodge me when I ask you why your shiny new cabinet is chock full of pictures of Michael."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I'll post Chapter 3 on
Sunday, March 30.
I’m just borrowing these wonderful characters to amuse myself. And hopefully you.
Phillip does mention that Isabel is also going by the time Meet The Dupes arrives, "would you consider a joint session?" Boy, that would be something:
:
