Monday, October 14, 2013

“A human doctor isn’t going to know jack about how Werewolves do blood transfusions,”

  (Small Fry Chapter 2)


Declan continued, “From January onwards, I don’t want her doing more than one lecture a month.  Then from June, she’s not going to do any for at least six months.”

“Excuse me?!”  I exhorted in surprise. 

“Maternity leave, B.”  He glared my way.

Oh, maternity leave…now why didn’t I think of that?  I had just been planning my schedule for months in advance and it had never crossed my mind!  It made it worse when Declan was the one who was anti-pregnancy.

“Yeah, you’d better take note of that, Aneet.”  I glared back.

“Would you like me to book you into seeing an obstetrician at the Hodge Endeavor Hospital in Anchorage?” She offered.

Aneet didn't know I was a Circulator or what that meant.  However from her confidentiality training, she knew that her boss was 'different' and my medical requirements had to be kept from the public eye.  But since I was also a Werewolf, I was hardly ever ill and if I were injured; the blood of my Werewolf kin could revive me.  I also had the tribe's Medicine Man whom was another Werewolf to treat me, or even the Medical Lab at Circulate HQ, which was run by the Circulate Mainframe.  The computer also oversaw Hodge Endeavor's Hospitals and the Legal Department, providing my mate and I with falsified birth or death certificates, to hide our real ages.

Abruptly, Declan darted forwards to cover the speaker with his hand, so she couldn’t hear.

“No, we do this with Ki.”  He frowned.   “A human doctor isn’t going to know jack about how Werewolves do blood transfusions, which is going to be a guarantee when you have this.”

I snatched my phone out from underneath his hand to say, “Thanks Aneet, but it won’t be necessary.  We have our own medical staff.”

Declan wasn't put off by my rudeness or glares.  Instead, he sat on the side of the bed to look on my schedule.  To stop him, I slammed shut my laptop.

“However, I will notify the Board of this news.”  She organized.  “Would you like me to contact your English relatives, the Worthall’s?”

“Um,” I thought on this, “I don’t think it’s necessary.  When Jarrod Worthall - the Engineer in ISF I told you about - calls next, I’ll let him know myself.”

“Very well.”  She acquiesced.  “Is there anything else I can help you with, Dr. Baker?”

“No thanks Aneet, I think that’s it.”  I signed off.


Saturday, October 5, 2013

My face flushed when two of my past identities were read out.

(Small Fry Chapter 2)


“You’ve been invited to a lunch at Cambridge University on 1st February next year."  Aneet continued.  "In attendance, will be several speakers on Ancient History in the Mediterranean.” 

“Ancient History in the Mediterranean?” I echoed.  “I don’t teach that topic.”

“It’s not a topic, it’s a field."  She said.  "With all your papers on Rome, Greece, Egypt, Mesopotamia and Babylon, you do fall into that category.”

“Oh, I see your point.”  I conceded.  “But who else is going to be at this shindig?”

“Dr. Fielding, Dr. Golding, Dr. Jordan, Dr. Thewak and Dr. Humphries are just some of the many…” she prattled off, “…I think this is going to be some kind of symposium to honour past historians.”

This made me pause, "Which past historians?”

“I think they’re going to be honouring archaeologists and professors such as Dr. Jasmine Aviv, Dr. Jason Garret, Dr. Bianca Sabre, Dr. Bianca Wisetail and Dr. Ash Marzuq.”  She read out.  “That’s what it says on the invitation, anyways.”

My face flushed when two of my past identities were read out.

“Um, can we please put the 1st February on the back burner?”

“Instead of clicking ‘accept’ or ‘decline’, would you like me to hit ‘tentative’?” She asked.

“Yep.” I agreed.  “Now, what’s next?”

“Aside from your papers, there’s not much else.  It's quite a few lunches in the next six months, but not many symposiums.”  She speculated.

“I’m not really interested in lunches.” I sighed reluctantly.  “All it is, is a bunch of academics who are normally bitchy to each other; hide their knives to stab you in the back with, to be friendly face to face.”

“Would you like to decline the academic lunches and charity dinners and just stick to the lectures, Dr. Baker?”  She offered, using my latest pseudonym.

“Yeah that'd be a good idea, Aneet.”  I decided.  “So how are we looking so far, one lecture per month?”

“Yes except for March, when you have two lectures."  She reported.  "You have the one at the University of Technology Sydney and the other at Columbia.” 

Suddenly Declan’s voice interrupted, which gave me a fright.


My head turned sharply, to find my husband standing in the doorway, listening in.  Then he came into the room to talk directly to my mobile phone. 

“Sorry Aneet, in March Dr. Baker will be five months pregnant, which means she’ll tire easily.  I don’t want her travelling around to do two lectures a month.”  He ordered.

She sounded surprised to hear his voice. “Oh er, Mr. Baker?” 

“No, it’s Mr. Sabre.”  He corrected sharply.

“Yes Mr. Sabre.”  She fumbled out.  But he made her so nervous, she mispronounced his surname.  Instead of saying Sar-bra it sounded like she said, Say-ber.  “Er, did you just say that Dr. Baker would be pregnant? I mean um, is pregnant?”

I could hear the shock in my secretary’s voice, as clear as a bell.  She had been my Personal Assistant for the past thirty years, and through two pseudonyms.  Although Aneet worked for me, she would also act as my liaison with the multinational company Hodge Endeavor, which was under Circulate control.  This meant they would also hear of this.  On my first day of being pregnant, the news of my 'happy condition' was being broadcasted.

The Circulate Mainframe, all the way at Circulate Headquarters on Taurus Six, monitored mine and humanities' timeline.  It sent instructions via email and text messages, to myself or the Board of Hodge Endeavour.  All I had to do, was turn up at the odd Board Meeting when an important decision was required. It ensured the company invested wisely and that I retained control for financial security.  The powerful company's political connections, were also ideal in protecting the Circulate's and the Lokoti's anonymity.