Wapsi Square Forum

An hour later at the ringing of the kitchen bell the assemblage was summoned to dinner.

Daisy was surprised. “Was that Ebbie’s bell?”

At that, Greg and Glytch began to laugh, followed slightly ruefully by Al. “Yes, it is. Your husband made us, MADE us, mind you, go and get the bell and put it up in the kitchen before he would sit down and relax. He insisted that where the Alexanders were, the bell needed to be.”

Taken aback, Daisy looked at her husband. “You really did that?”

Al, still slightly abashed, said “Yes, love. It needed to be here. I know its history…and it told me so. It needs you all…as much as I do.”

Daisy stopped, and wrapped her husband in her arms. They stood, rocking slightly in the way people hugging deeply do, then broke, still staring into each other’s eyes. Magic was in the air – and none present were going to question it.

With that, and still holding Daisy to his side, Al announced, “Dinner is served. Folks, please find your name cards at the table.” The party, drinks in hand as suited them, filed into the dining room – to a scene of wonder.

The table had been elegantly set – Rosalita and her staff had pulled out all of the stops to make dinner a success. Candles burned in table candlesticks, and the small vases also adorned the table. The plates, silverware and linens were arranged flawlessly, and the glassware sparkled.

Daisy assumed her rightful position at the head of the table, and Al at the foot. Greg and Annie sat to Daisy’s right as honored guests, with Buck’s family opposite them. Al had Sterling to his right in the honored-guest position, and Glytch next to her. Jet and Monica were in the “family” slots to the left, next to Rowdy and Cinnamon.

Salads were produced, and the assemblage set to their meal. Conversation flowed and ebbed at the table with the two groups catching each other up on events of the day.

Al said little, sipping at his tea and nibbling his salad, and watching the people in his life make merry. Tired and sore he might be from the exertions of the day., but seeing the important people in his life gathered at table brought a contentment to his soul few people would ever know.

Jet and Monica, chatting with Rowdy, and pressing knees under the table. Sterling, a bastion of calm and contentment, next to the irrepressable Glytch. Next to Glytch Atsali, sharing conversation with both.

Katherine and Buck, tending to an excited Castela. On the other side, sitting together Greg and Annie, interacting with others but in a world of their own emotionally.

Al lifted his teacup to the love of his life, anchoring the other end of the table. She lifted her wineglass...and his heart, with the expression she shared with him.

---

"So, you're saying not much has gone on over the last year for you all?" I commented dryly.

Sarah smacked me in the side.

"Daisy, dear?"

"Yes, Al?"

"Remind me to have a talk with Nudge about Joe's access.... I think there's a spot or two in the jungles of Borneo he hasn't visited yet - and he'd love it there."

"Yes, dear."

"I heard that."

In indescribable distance away, a slow grin spread across Nudge's face.

"You know... If Glytch is a VORP admin, why aren't I?"
Phix gave Nudge a sharp look. "Because, despite that human's amazing propensity to cause trouble, you'd be infinitely worse."
"Spoilsport."
"Indeed. But at least the trains run on time."
"Hmph."

"Just remember, Nudgy - I've got the recipe book."

Sarah just rolled her eyes at me.

AN: DInky's been at the dialogue again....

“So, how did your “Spa day” turn out?” Al said to Sterling, a trifle sarcastically. “I send you off with a perfectly acceptable dam, my best friend’s wife, my daughter-in-law and my stepdaughter, and you come back with a carload of supermodels in a limousine that is a pink obscenity down to the tires.”

Sterling, expecting this exact question, answered “You tell me, luv. I saw tired, stressed, frustrated ladies, and now I see confident, relaxed, extraordinary, exotic women ready to face whatever challenges thrown at them. I think we knocked it clean out of the park...a home-run. And the limousine was NOT my idea, but I made it work passably fair."

Al sipped his tea, and answered quite seriously. “I concur. Daisy looks FANTASTIC, and as relaxed as I have seen her in months. Katherine Annie, Cinnamon, yourself…all as glamorous as they come. I sincerely thank you for your fantastic work.”

“What about US, there Al? Forget us, did we?” Monica, not really nettled, mock-pouted in her chair, much to the amusement of Jet.

“Oh, you’re here? Sorry, hadn’t noticed. Too many gorgeous women here today.” Al answered, loftily. Monica’s lower lip protruded, and the quiver was almost believable. Jet started to laugh, seeing her partner trying to work a completely unresponsive audience.

“And as for you, young lady," glancing at Jet, "– I don’t know how to thank you. I sense the hand of a supermodel in the dresses and accessories I see here – that was certainly not the outfit that my dear dam left the house in this afternoon.”

“You sense correctly, dear sir.”

“DON’T CALL ME…oh, whatever. “ Al sputtered to a stop as his dinner partners laughed at him.

“More seriously, do tell me about what happened. First off, never having seen the inside of a spa it is more foreign to me than the wilds of Katmandu – and whatever you did to revive her spirits I plan on sending her for again – and again. She looks FANTASTIC.”

Smiling archly, Jet changed the subject, which would bore most men to tears, “If you think she looks fantastic IN that dress, wait till you see her OUT of it.”

“Ohhhh?” Suddenly, Al was all attention – and Glytch was wishing he were anywhere else than hearing about Daisy in her lingerie. With a quick “ ‘Scuse me” he disappeared for the kitchen, causing Sterling, Jet and Monica to burst out laughing.

The laughter attracted Cindy’s attention, and she got up and sidled in between Monica and Jet. “What’s so funny?” They told her, and she started laughing heartily as well, with an occasional neigh in the stream of giggles.

“Al, I hope your heart’s up to it – Momma is dressed to KILL. She had a Victoria‘s Secret fitting team working on her and Annie, wrapping them in more lace and sparkles than you can imagine. I called ‘em high-priced, and I meant it.”

“Indeed. I knew this was going to be an interesting evening, and it seems I was right. Could you excuse me for just a second?”

Al got up, walked up the table, and tapped Greg on the shoulder, beckon him to come along. They stepped into the hall, and approximately thirty seconds later Greg’s voice was heard to say “WHAT?” Soon after both men returned.

Greg walked around behind Annie, bent over, and endowed her with a big hug from behind. At the same time he slipped a finger into her décolletage (invisibly or so he thought) and lifted outward for a half-inch.

His eyes grew very big and round. He gave Annie another squeeze, then proceeded to return to his seat.

This attention did not go unnoticed on Annie’s part. She leaned over to him and whispered into his ear for thirty seconds or so – at which point his eyes grew big and round again – and he blushed.

Sitting at the other end of the table, Al was infinitely amused – and anticipatory. He could wait. Dinner first.

As the entree was served, Daisy just sat and absorbed the scene - and marveled. She never would have thought, two years ago, that sitting at table with supermodels, mages, warrriors and the varied cast of characters of Club Alexander would have ever happened. Now - it was almost routine.

Almost. Seeing all of them here still brought a frisson, a thrill, a "what am I doing here?" to her every time it happened.

She loved it.

Course served, like a good hostess she engaged her guests in conversation while they ate. Greg, to her right, was the first, as she'd spent the afternoon with Miss Annie. Buck, on the "family" side, was so busy devouring Katherine with his eyes that consuming dinner was on autopilot - and Katherine obviously felt the same - and neither of them could be expected to hold up a conversation.

"So, I am told I have you and Glytch to thank for this miracle. When I left earlier today I thought we were a week away from being moved in. Al tells me we're essentialy there - both here and the Tower."

Greg sipped his water, chuckled quietly and spoke. " Wasn't just us in any way - the Sergeant-Major divided the gang into three parts and fired them at different sections. He assigned squad leaders and gave them full authority to make decisions - he knew this would be needed.

First gang was the Tower - he put that under Edward - and called him "Mini-Me #1". He got to put together what he knew better than anyone - the Tower and Old Alexander. No one would do it better - so it was fire-and-forget.

Second was Rosalita and her staff, with Glytch and others as needed. Rosalita was "Mini-Me #2". They got the kitchen, food spaces and belowstairs as he calls it. She knew what she wanted, and went for it. No thought needed on that one - she knows her onions.

Third was the move into New Alexander. Before I showed up, Al was running that team himself. We had a bump or two transferring that to me - his notes were only really useful to himself without a key - but after that it all went smoothly."

"Impressive. Divide and conquer. So what was the old coot doing while all of you were working - drinking coffee and eating cookies?"

"Not hardly. He was roaming between the three groups, handling things as they came up. He probably put in ten miles on his feet today between the two houses, not to mention up and down stairs, moving things himself and so on. Coffee and biscuits were all that kept him running - I don't think he took a break the entire time the move was going on.

Even after the move was done there was no stopping - the whole thing with the bell, and getting that moved. He didn't stop till it was all over, though he made sure everyone else took breaks, got water and snacks and so on." With that, Greg stopped to consume a forkful of tender beef.

Daisy nodded - she'd seen the command sergeant-major before. "That's typical - he takes care of his troops, as you know. That never changes."

The poor dear, Daisy thought. He'll be overtired - there'll be nightmares tonight. He always has nightmares when he's overdoes it. Daisy had no idea why - she assumed it was something to do with his time in the service and being in a place where he couldn't sleep. He wouldn't talk about it, of course.

"So, anything else happen? Everything seems to have gone smoothly, all in all."

"Surprisingly, yes, everything went smoothly and there were no major problems. For once Murphy and O'Toole stayed far away and things just worked. The level of detail put into the prep - thanks to you - is what made it smooth. There were no real questions - we just followed the plan laid down and did just fine."

From across the table, Buck roused from his entranced contemplation of Katherine and asked, " I know who Murphy is - but who's O'Toole?"

Greg's face took on a serious expression - and he asked, "You've never heard of the Prophet O'Toole? He is the Chosen One of Murphy."

Falling for it - deliberately - Buck asked, "And what does he preach?"

"That Murphy was an optimist." Greg broke out laughing, as did all of the folks at that end of the table.

Castela piped up, between her parents at the end of the table. "Daddy, wh-wh-who is Murphy?"

Buck smiled, and answered, "He was an engineer like Grandpa. He taught us important things - but sometimes we forget them - and when we do we talk about Mr. Murphy."

"Do you have to use bad words? I heard Grampa call him a useless mutant...."

"NO...sweetie. Sometimes Grampa forgets when little people are around..." Katherine said, looking daggers down the table at a certain sergeant-major...who was going to be talked to about his language...again.

With jokes, stories and bright conversation dinner continued. The steaks were perfect, baked potatoes, glazed carrots, creamed spinach and all - a classic steakhouse meal, brilliantly executed.

Glytch took one look into the kitchen and prudently decided to wander elsewhere. Rosalita and the rest were moving so fast with so many hot or sharp things that the kitchen was a death trap for anyone who didn't belong.
Eventually, he found his way outside. Leaning up against a wall, Glytch silently watched the progress of the insubstantial clouds as they scudded across the starry sky.
I hope it doesn't snow. The Pontiac gets a little squirrelly in slick conditions... Glytch lowered his gaze toward Old Castle Alexander. With a smile, he remembered his first conversation with Atsali on the rooftop.
Glytch's stomach grumbled. "Alright, fine. Let's hope they've finished talking about... That stuff..." He shook his head. "How would they feel if people were talking about an aunt's lingerie? Ugh."

Thankfully, the conversation had turned to various other topics when Glytch returned. After a few moments of silent listening, Glytch joined in, deliberately ignoring the occasional smirks from Monica, Jet, Cinnamon and Daisy.
"So, how have things been going with you?" Glytch asked Atsali as the steaks were being brought out.
"Pretty good. I found this new book series called the Heir Chronicles. I'm liking it a lot so far."
"I read a few of those books a few years ago, but I lost track and forgot during finals or something. I really oughta finish that series."
Atsali nodded. "I'd say so too. What about you? How's MIB treating you?"
Glytch broke out in a mildly dangerous grin. "You remember the Puke Ray I slapped together for the Battle?"
Atsali nodded, and both Al and Greg turned and played close attention to Glytch, both having heard Glytch's voice and seen his grin.
"Well, my team and I had a really cool idea. The Puke Ray assaults sight, right? What happens if you assault more senses at the same time? Attacking sight not only messes up vision, but also balance and orientation... So I added a Long Range Acoustic Device and then we microwave Active Denial System."
"Gor blimey..." Al was grimacing and rolling his eyes.
Greg ran a hand over his face before getting back to his steak, which took precedence over almost everything else. "God help us all..."
"It not only attacks sight, but also hearing and pain receptors!" Glytch chuckled. "One of the effects of exposure is a sense of impending doom, like with anaphylactic shock. It's called the Discombobulator."
Atsali shook her head slowly. "Please tell me it's not lethal."
"Oh, no, of course not! It's just really... really... Unpleasant." Glytch smiled. "You'd be surprised how much effort it takes to make a Dubstep song specifically designed to incapacitate people. It's a really interesting experience!"
"I guess if it's non-lethal... I mean, the world has enough ways to kill without you adding to that list."
Glytch nodded. "Unfortunately, it wouldn't be hard to alter the Discombobulator to be lethal, but it makes a terrible weapon in that respect. And Sterling and Jet's little project got me thinking on body armor, so I started looking into materials science. I found out MIB has an amorphous metals lab! I've got some experiments regarding amorphous titanium scheduled for February. That's gonna be exciting... Not just for armor, but vehicles, space flight, structural engineering..."
Atsali leaned forward in her chair, mirroring Glytch's enthusiasm. "I wonder if you can strengthen amorphous titanium with carbon nanotubes. Damascus steel was really strong because it was laced with carbon nanotubes. Nobody really knows how they did it back then, but it might make for some really strong stuff."
Glytch's eyes widened and his hand and steak-laden fork stopped mid-way between the plate and his mouth. "Atsali, that's ingenious! Like rebar in concrete!" He pulled his phone out and typed in a note. "I absolutely need to test that..."

---

"The girl is going to be the end of civilization as we know it - if our new president doesn't wreck it first..." I mumbled under my breath as I munched on another forkful of the steak.

jwhouk wrote:---

"The girl is going to be the end of civilization as we know it - if our new president doesn't wreck it first..." I mumbled under my breath as I munched on another forkful of the steak.

To err is human. To really bugger things up requires a committee!

GlytchMeister wrote: " Damascus steel was really strong because it was laced with carbon nanotubes. Nobody really knows how they did it back then, but it might make for some really strong stuff."

.. it actually isn't that hard. I had to make a straightedge razor out of the stuff and shave with it to make journeyman. I have made about thirty rifle barels out of Damascus over the years... black powder only, but they shot true. There's about sixty of us at last count who actually make/made the stuff, the big trick is welding as cold as you dare

"Pillsbury +1 year" just doesn't roll off the tongue.

I'm thinking as a title for this: "Return to Club Alexander."

Sgt. Howard wrote:

GlytchMeister wrote: " Damascus steel was really strong because it was laced with carbon nanotubes. Nobody really knows how they did it back then, but it might make for some really strong stuff."

.. it actually isn't that hard. I had to make a straightedge razor out of the stuff and shave with it to make journeyman. I have made about thirty rifle barels out of Damascus over the years... black powder only, but they shot true. There's about sixty of us at last count who actually make/made the stuff, the big trick is welding as cold as you dare

Wikipedia wrote:The original method of producing Damascus steel is not known. Modern attempts to duplicate the metal have not been entirely successful due to differences in raw materials and manufacturing techniques. Several individuals in modern times have claimed that they have rediscovered the methods by which the original Damascus steel was produced.

The reputation and history of Damascus steel has given rise to many legends, such as the ability to cut through a rifle barrel or to cut a hair falling across the blade. A research team in Germany published a report in 2006 revealing nanowires and carbon nanotubes in a blade forged from Damascus steel. This finding was covered by National Geographic and the New York Times. Although certain types of modern steel outperform these swords, chemical reactions in the production process made the blades extraordinary for their time, as Damascus steel was superplastic and very hard at the same time. During the smelting process to obtain Wootz steel ingots, woody biomass and leaves are known to have been used as carburizing additives along with certain specific types of iron rich in microalloying elements. These ingots would then be further forged and worked into Damascus steel blades, and research now shows that carbon nanotubes can be derived from plant fibers, suggesting how the nanotubes were formed in the steel. Some experts expect to discover such nanotubes in more relics as they are analyzed more closely.

Perhaps what I forged was not what archeologists or historians refer to as Damascus... but I assure you, it was some tough material. I once hammered one of my blades through a buck knife, going edge to edge. Put a small nick in the blade on mine

jwhouk wrote:---

"The girl is going to be the end of civilization as we know it - if our new president doesn't wreck it first..." I mumbled under my breath as I munched on another forkful of the steak.

Who, Atsali? And Glytch is what, chopped liver? She's just a geek/nerd. Glytch is the mad scientist. *chuckle*

Sgt. Howard wrote:Perhaps what I forged was not what archeologists or historians refer to as Damascus... but I assure you, it was some tough material. I once hammered one of my blades through a buck knife, going edge to edge. Put a small nick in the blade on mine

I dunno what the hell you're making, but I want some. No money to pay right now, but when I can... Hmm...

GlytchMeister wrote: And Glytch is what, chopped liver? She's just a geek/nerd. Glytch is the mad scientist. *chuckle*

Chopped liver... hmmm... whutcha think, Al?

GlytchMeister wrote:

Sgt. Howard wrote:Perhaps what I forged was not what archeologists or historians refer to as Damascus... but I assure you, it was some tough material. I once hammered one of my blades through a buck knife, going edge to edge. Put a small nick in the blade on mine

I dunno what the hell you're making, but I want some. No money to pay right now, but when I can... Hmm...

Already need a replacement for that Kukri?