Part 1 - Chatter 11

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Alistair rose early, dressed quickly and headed up to his workbench to tinker and stay out of the way of his grandfather. Stepping out on the rooftop, it was freezing cold and the rain had been replaced with twirls of snow. His teeth chattered but the first snow gave him a flush of excitement; he pulled down his beanie and tightened up his red and green scarf, then proceeded to scoop up and pack a snowball before tossing it light heartedly at his chum. Balderick squawked in protest, his talons curling up in the cold.

"Cold? It's not that cold! Would you like some anti-freeze?" Alistair joked to his mate, who responded by swooping over to the workbench and puffing up his plumage to keep warm. Alistair rubbed his hands together and slipped on a pair of black woollen fingerless gloves then tugged back the tarp off his workbench. Using his sleeves, he brushed away virginal snow and made himself comfortable, sketching with a HB pencil.

Opening two jars and a large tub, he rummaged, withdrawing the bibs and bobs that suited his needs as well as a curved piece of thick Perspex, left over from a previous failed invention. Alistair positioned it over his chest and stomach, wrapping the plastic with his knuckles, drumming out a rap-a-tap-tap. It was the perfect size and he set himself the task of shaping the edges, the perfect idea ready to be created. That's when Archie cleared his throat and startled him.

"Whoa," Alistair said, spinning around and checking his watch. "I'm not late for breakfast," he confessed as he placed the Perspex board down on the bench. "I haven't done anything, I swear," Alistair pleaded. "And if Delilah has said anything, she's misinformed."

"You're not in trouble Alistair, you just won't be going to school for the remainder of the week. I've got other lessons for you to learn."

Archie handed Alistair a slimline, circular device, the size of a crumpet.

"What's this?"

"Life doesn't come with an instruction book, but a few hints from an expert could help," Archie said, and when Alistair didn't understand, Archie conceded. "I'm not the best person to help you with your problems," he admitted, pointing to the device in Alistair's hands. "But that can."

"What is it?"

"One suggestion: Be prepared."

"Be prepared for what?"

"Everything."

"Everything?"

"You make me sound like a fortune cookie. Oh, and don't make him mad," Archie advised as he shuffled back towards the stairwell.

"Don't make him mad?" Alistair called back. "Who?"

Archie chuckled then closed the door behind him. Turning to Balderick, Alistair posed a question to his friend.

"What in earth could that possibly mean? Be prepared for what?"

The circular device fit in his palm; it was smooth and silver and there was a discrete, flat red button on the rim whilst in the epicentre of the top, there was a tiny, glassy lump about five millimetres in width. Alistair tried to make head or tale of it then placed his finger over the red button, went to press it, and hesitated.
Alistair took several steps then turned around, seeking reassurance from his friend.

"What's the worse it could do?" he asked, summoning the nerve to push the red button. With a pop, the device surged to life and Alistair's eyes widened, as a three-dimensional, holographic image materialise in front of him. Alistair's jaw dropped as the digidots coagulated and a military man about forty-five years of age stood before him. He was dressed in a dark, olive green jumper and black pants; a red beret with a gold coat of arms of a Viper coiled around a dagger sat on his head at a squared off angle. The man squatted, stretched and Alistair noticed his polished, thick-soled army boots, the steel shoelaces gleaming. The military man tensed his shoulders and rotated his head from side to side before shaping his big, bushy brown moustache with his thumb and finger.

"Ah, Master Raven," the military man smiled with discomforting familiarity. "Shall we begin where we left off?"

Alistair was stunned.

"Wh-wh-who are you?" he chattered, in cold and trepidation.

The military man grasped Alistair by the shoulders and yanked him off the ground; he hoisted Alistair eyeball to eyeball. The man's bloodshot eyes completed a status scan and satisfied, he quickly recalibrated before responding.

"A Raven; yes. But not Andrew Raven," he conceded, rolling the tip of his tongue around the inside of his lower lip. Baffled, Alistair went to answer but the hologram plonked him back on his feet; the program dipped his chin, paused, re-set its self then looked down at the boy with a ferocious glare. Alistair went to speak, but the military man came to attention and cut him off brusquely.

"Program: Initiate. Simulation One: Installed. Parameter: Beginner."

The hologram shuddered for a microsecond, pixels realigning. He looked at his new pupil.

"Fresh meat for the grinder, eh?" he asked rhetorically then squared up the boy. "Lesson one: Be Prepared."

"Be Prepared?" Alistair again asked. "Be prepared for what?"

Without notice, the man delivered him a stinging slap.

"Be prepared for that," he snorted.

"What was that for?" Alistair moaned, rubbing his cheek.

"Lesson Two: Silence!"

"Pardon?" Alistair replied and this time managed to turn a millisecond after the back of the man's hand had slapped his cheek for a second time.

"Your reflexes are horrendous, your breathing and heartbeat over extended," the program munched; each of his actions a deliberate act of data collection for a base line. "You fear me?"

Alistair was dumbstruck.

"Excellent. Ground rules: you will only speak when I order you to speak. You will call me 'sir' at all times. Do I make myself clear?"

"Ummm," Alistair erred.

"Yes SIR!" the man shouted back at Alistair, egging him to respond in kind.

"Ye-ye-yes sir," Alistair stammered.

"No lad. If I said to stammer like a constipated mule, I would have ordered so. Repeat after me: YES SIR!"

"Yes SIR!" Alistair piped up.

"YES SIR!!!" the man steamed, grasping Alistair's shoulders, straightening the boy's back.

"YES SIR!!!" Alistair yelled.

"Excellent. A strong voice does not lead to misunderstandings."

From the pixels, a wooden pace stick appeared in the man's hand, and once fully formed, he swiftly tucked it under his left armpit with a rigid hold. His left breast was covered in pips, medals and decorations. Raising his right hand, he stroked his thick moustache.

"There will be many lessons to learn m'boy," he continued, pacing around Alistair in a determined circle. "I will teach you, and as the Lord is my witness, you shall learn. Am I clear, lad?"

"YES SIR!" Alistair replied, having learnt his lesson.

"I don't give a tinker's cuss who you are, however, it is only fair that I introduce myself. I am The Brigadier Version 2.0, a fully integrated and interactive Loyalist Armed Forces guide for your specialist-training program. I am a Musion Eyeliner System with Intelligence Protocol, or MES-IP for short. I may be a three-dimensional, fully rendered, multi-articulated, AI hologram but for all intents and purposes, I am as real as any flesh British drill instructor."

"And I am here to kick your arse."

"We have much to learn. Discipline is paramount. Do not be confused: I am not your friend."

"You may call me the Brigadier Version 2.0. I prefer Sir. Is that clear?"

Alistair nodded. Disapproving, the Brigadier V2.0 stuck the stump under his chin and cupped his ear.

"Pardon?"

"Yes Sir," Alistair remembered.

"And Lesson One?"

"Be prepared," Alistair responded.

"Excellent. You are a quick learner. Lesson One: Be Prepared. Your life depends on it."

And as if to demonstrate the point again, The Brigadier V2.0 slapped Alistair across the face with the back of his hand. Alistair recoiled with the sting of the whack on his cold cheeks and the Brigadier V2.0 used the stump to push Alistair's hand away from rubbing the sting. Alistair suddenly had a sinking feeling in his stomach he wasn't going to enjoy his day. The Brigadier V2.0 halted and leaned in, face to face with Alistair.

"Did I say quick learner? I may have been a touch hasty in my summation," the Brigadier V2.0 sighed. The hologram eyeballed Alistair, and then stepped back.

"Fair enough, I shan't be impolite; tell me lad, who are you?"

Alistair gulped, replying skittishly.

"I am Alistair Raven," he announced.

The Brigadier V2.0 threw his head back and laughed.

"Archie...Andrew...Alistair...what is it with your family?" the Brigadier V2.0 laughed. "I assume you are Andy Raven's son? My internal clock says it has been some time; I take it your father is well?"

"No sir," he replied sadly. "My father died when I was a toddler. He and my mother were killed accidentally in a food riot."

"I am very sorry to hear that Alistair Raven. Your father was a very good pupil of mine. He was strong of character; a touch impetuous, at times his compassion got the better of him. Nonetheless he was a good, strong lad. It is perhaps something you should remember as we embark upon our lessons together."

"It would also be remiss of me not to ask of Archie Raven, how the devil is the old bounder?"

"He is fine," Alistair confessed. "If you know him, you should know nothing can keep him down."

"Really?" the Brigadier V2.0 chuckled. "I seem to remember he often recovered poorly from the whiskey."

"Oh he still likes his whiskey," Alistair said.

The Brigadier V2.0 regained his starchy tone ending Alistair's edge towards familiarity.

"Did Archie suggest anything before he left?" the Brigadier V2.0 enquired.

"Actually, before he left me with you he said to be prepared. Oh and not to make you mad," Alistair relayed before hastily adding a "Sir."

The Brigadier V2.0 pursed his lips, and as was his tic, once again smoothed down his moustache. His eyes twinkled as he grinned at Alistair.

"Did he lad?" he chuckled knowingly with a touch too much menace. "Did he just?"

"Do you know what he meant?" Alistair asked.

The Brigadier V2.0 winked.

"Because you are a Raven, I'll repeat this lesson for your benefit," the Brigadier V2.0 conceded, then leaned in to face Alistair almost nose-to-nose.

"Lesson One: Be Prepared."

Suddenly, the Brigadier V2.0 stood bolt upright.

"ATTENTION!!!" he bellowed, and again Alistair straightened. Then in a rapid roar he issued instructions. "Feet apart. Shoulders straight. Eyes on me. Hands at the ready."

Alistair clumsily did as he was ordered, and could tell from his instructor's stare he wasn't responding 100 per cent to his satisfaction.

"Boy, I've seen sturdier new born gazelles. NOW... FEET APART, EYES ON ME!!! Move it...MOVE IT! For Gawd's sake," he bawled. "I've never seen anyone worse than you!"

**********************

For the remainder of the week, the Brigadier V2.0 criticised, cajoled and crafted Alistair in to some semblance of preparedness. Exercises were repeated, orders barked, failure reprimanded. The hologram gave no quarter, intolerant to failure or exhaustion. Alistair suffered from ham-fisted naivety and each completed tutorial was a pyrrhic victory. Lactic acid burnt his jellied limbs; if he managed to a catch breath, the Brigadier V2.0 assumed he hadn't pushed his charge hard enough.

Now, they were practising hand-eye co-ordination; another move where the Brigadier V2.0 brought Alistair to his knees, ending the scenario with a stiff karate chop halting millimetres away from the back of his pupil's neck. Balderick watched on, cawing in laughter as Alistair groaned in exasperation.

"You try this," Alistair spat, agitated as sweaty hair dangled over his face. "We'll see how long you last." Balderick bobbed about, wings flapping and continued mocking.

Dragging the boy to his feet, the Brigadier V2.0 spoke.

"Lad, the idea is NOT to end up on your knees, am I clear?"

Alistair nodded.

"Pardon?"

"YES SIR!" Alistair remembered.

"Don't let your mind wander either. It's too small to be out on its own. Ready? Begin!"

Again and again, the mentor reset the manoeuvre and each time it resulted in Alistair losing out. Reset, repeat, reset. Determined not to fail again, Alistair rose, placing his feet at the correct angles. Gritting his teeth, he used his forearm to push the hair off his forehead.

Righto he thought. This time...

Duelling, Alistair focussed squarely on The Brigadier V2.0, who made a lunge then took a quick jab and Alistair swivelled to his left to miss the circling blow. However, the Brigadier V2.0 countered, and raised his forearm in a pre-emptive move but Alistair shifted his weight, and rolled his hand in to a fist like he had been shown. Now with the Brigadier V2.0 vulnerable, he spotted his opportunity and threw a punch. Nimble enough to jump back, the Brigadier V2.0 missed with his backhanded slap.

"Aha," Alistair rejoiced triumphantly. "Missed me!"

The Brigadier V2.0 straightened his shoulders. "Missed you?" Dematerialising, Alistair began jigging about like he'd gone 12 rounds with Lennox Lewis.

"You heard me...missed me."

"Really?" the Brigadier V2.0 asked, reappearing in front of his student.

"Yes siree!" Alistair said smartly.

The Brigadier V2.0 threw a punch that knocked Alistair's socks off. Left cradling his chin, Alistair began counting stars.

"I never miss," the Brigadier V2.0confirmed. "Here endeth thelesson."

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