Amy's Hero: Tales of the Ragoon, #3

By Stan Morris

Amy's parents have a problem. Their daughter is withdrawing from life. The Ragoon have a solution. Sort of. What happens when a fearful young woman is suddenly made the subject of a rehabilitation project run by alien psychologists? And who is that guy she is forced to interact with? Will Amy find happiness?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Stan Morris
• Release date: Feb 20, 2013
• ISBN: 9798223845492

Stan Morris

Stan Morris was born during the Truman Adminstration in Linwood, California.  He lived in South Gate, Lakewood, and Norwalk before his family moved to Concord, California in 1964.  He was educated at a variety of community colleges before receiving a degree from Eastern New Mexico University.  He has a wonderful wife, two grown gainfully employed children, and a thirst for reading, writing, watching sports, gardening, and international travel.

Book preview

Tales of the Ragoon,

Amy's Hero

By Stan Morris

Copyright, 2010, 2012

Contents

Chapter One  Amy, The Exile

Chapter Two  Amy, The Custodian

Chapter Three  Amy, The Librarian

Chapter Four  Amy, The Displaced

Chapter Five  Amy, The Lost

Chapter Six  Amy, The Dishwasher

Chapter Seven  Amy, The Waitress

Chapter Eight  Amy, The Woman

Chapter One  Amy, The Exile

They sat at the kitchen table, heads bowed, worried about the same thing, or rather the same person.  Papa stared blankly at the newspaper.  He had read the same paragraph several times without seeing the page.  Mama was trying to finish the Sudoku puzzle.  Twice, she had made an obvious mistake.  Occasionally, one of them would sigh.  At some point, Papa looked up.

We have to do something, he stated firmly.

Mama sighed again.  But what can we do? she asked dejectedly.

It's been three weeks, this time.

I know.  It wasn't so bad at first.  A couple of days.  A week at the most.  But now.  Three weeks!  She only comes out to use the bathroom.  I don't think she has even taken a shower in that time.

I've been thinking of something, he began.

What? she asked, dreading his answer.

He took a breath before he spoke.  I think we should go to the Ragoon.

Oh, no, no, she's our daughter!  What about the rumors?

He moved his hand in an impatient gesture.  Yes, yes, I've heard all the rumors.  But what about that man over in Livingston?  What about those rumors?  They say he ran a Ragoon off the road.  And he was not killed because of it.  In fact, the paper did a story about the show he put on at the high school.

We weren't there.  We don't know what the truth is.  The papers will print anything!

Yes, well, the movie star certainly wasn't barbecued, he muttered, and what about their treatments for Alzheimer's disease?  Alzheimer's has almost been eliminated.  Mrs. Robinson from down the street is back here in Riverbank, living with Mr. Robinson again.

Yes, and now the Robinson's are broke!  You know what they do to people who owe them money and can’t pay.  She's our daughter, she reminded him reproachfully.

He looked up.  Don't you see?  I'm considering the Ragoon, because I'm afraid of what has happened to her.  What will happen to her in the future?  Don't tell me you are not frightened for her too.

They fell into an unhappy silence.

A few days later, Jane Laurence listened in a bemused silence as the man standing before them suggested a hypothetical problem to the District Supervisor.

What if your neighbor had a daughter that would not come out of her room?  What if she was twenty five, had never held a job, had not gone to college, didn't socialize, and seemed to be withdrawing from life?  He had heard that the Ragoon had very advanced psychological techniques to help people like his daughter.  That is, like his neighbor's daughter.  What could be done to help his neighbor?  What would it cost?

For this problem, the cost will be very little.  Bring her here, or we can bring her here, the District Supervisor said through its translator.

The man hesitated.  What will you do to her? he asked, wringing his hands.

No harm will come to her, I promise you, the alien replied. Our purpose is to provide profit for our conglomerate.  Humans who are psychologically damaged do not add to our bottom line.  We will try to improve her life.

The man bowed his head.  Very well, he whispered, and shortly after, he left.

What are you going to do with this girl? Jane asked. Do you have some kind of happy drug, or maybe a brain probe or something?

As you are so fond of saying, Jane, beat's me.  I will think of something.  I will talk to our specialist in human psychology, and have him suggest a program.  The woman can pay for the treatment after she has recovered.

The next morning, Papa and Mama heard a knock at the door.  When Papa opened it, three of the pseudo-lizards were waiting.  They pushed aside the trembling man and woman and demanded to know where Amy was.  Weeping, the man led them to his daughter's room.

It said you wouldn't harm her! the man cried out.

We are not here to harm her, the pseudo-lizard's mechanical voice replied. We are here to procure her.

The pseudo-lizard banged on the door with its massive pad.  The sound was loud enough that even with her headphones on, Amy heard the hammering.

Go away, she yelled.  I'm busy now.

She had finally located someone to chat with who did not block her shortly after they connected.  Lately, she was having trouble getting people to chat for more than a few minutes.  All of her buddies and friends seemed to have vanished.  And people had filed complaints about her to the system administrators at Facebook, Google Plus, and CoolPeople.  The banging on her door got louder.  My parents don't understand, she thought resentfully.  The only time she felt good about herself, was when she was on the computer, or when she was watching TV, or when she was reading, and that had to be in her room.  She didn't have time to interact with live people.  She didn't know how to do so.

She liked her room.  It was right across the hall from the bathroom.  Her room had lots of old fashioned paper books, and if she needed more, she could always connect with the online booksellers.  Lately, she had found it harder and harder to order hardcopy, because an ebook was the only format available.  That wasn't so bad.  Sometimes, she preferred reading on her comcell, because it gave her an excuse to avoid speaking to people who called.  Her parents were the only people she had to see, now and then.  Her mother brought her food and left the plate on the floor outside her door.  She usually waited until she heard her mother leave, before she cautiously opened the door, peeked out to make sure her parents were not there, and retrieved her plate.  Her parents retired to their bedroom every night about ten o'clock, so after that she was able to use the bathroom undisturbed.

The hammering got even louder.  Papa must really want to talk to me.  She wished that her father would stop worrying about her.  He didn't understand.  He had almost been born before the Net was created.  She shuddered from just thinking about it.  The knocking continued, and she winced at a particularly hard blow.  He's not going to go away.  Sighing, she pulled off her headphones.  B rgt bak, she typed, and then she went to open the door.  She turned the doorknob, and then was flung backwards as someone or something entered.  She caught a whiff of cheap perfume overlaying an unearthly odor.

Her heart fluttered in shock and terror, and she would have screamed if her voice had worked.  It's a monster!  Confused, she realized that it must be one of the aliens.  The Ragoon, the talking heads on the Al Jazeera news videos called them.  Her heart started pounding when one of them grasped her arm.  It pulled her to the door and then out of her room.  Another alien was there, and she didn't even have enough presence of mind to cry out as it grasped her other arm.  She was pulled down the hallway and then through the living room.  Her mother was crying and her father was pleading with them to be gentle with her; that she was their only daughter, and that this was a mistake, and that he should never have gone to the Ragoon.

Somehow, she realized that her parents were responsible for this intrusion and invasion into her life, and feelings of betrayal threatened to overwhelm her fear.  She refused to answer her parents when they called to her as she was pushed through the entrance to her house and across the yard to a large van waiting at the curb.  Neighbors on both sides of the street had gathered to watch the proceedings, curious to see what was happening, relieved that the pseudo-lizards were not at their houses.  One of the aliens was hissing through something covering his snout, and she realized that it was using some kind of device to communicate in English with her parents.  Her father was crying now, but her mother seemed to have collected herself and was reverting to her practical nature.  She was saying something about a suitcase, clothes, and other stuff, but the alien was shaking its massive head.

The aliens got into the van, and it started.  Her parents called to her again, but she could not bring herself to look at them as the van drove away.  A woman in the front passenger seat said something to her, but she ignored the lady.  She was numb.  She hoped that this was a mistake, and in a moment they would take her back, and allow her to return to the safety of her room.  She vowed that if they did, she would lock and bar her door.  No more food from her mother; she would order take-out.  She worried that the person with whom she had been chatting would not wait for her to return, and she almost panicked when she realized how many programs were still open on her computer screen.  How will I log out?  She was barely aware when they left Riverbank.  Somehow, somewhere on the road, her mental voice refused to discuss anything with her anymore, and she either passed out or fell asleep.

Amy felt the drowsiness of waking, first and then an uneasines, as if something was wrong, but she could not tell just exactly what.  She opened her eyes, and after a moment, she realized that she was not in her room.  She sat up with a start as her memories began to return.  I was abducted by aliens with help from my parents.  The thought seemed ludicrous, and she was tempted to laugh.  This is what comes from not going away to college.  Your parents resort to using aliens to get rid of you.  She looked down, and saw that she was wearing a thin white t-shirt and a pair of white cotton shorts.

She examined the small room, noting that the walls and the ceiling were painted eggshell, and that there was a window in the wall to her right.  Through the window, she could see the grey cold February sky and buildings beyond.  I'm on the second floor.  The only piece of furniture in the room was the twin bed on which she was sitting.  The bed was flush against a wall, and on the opposite wall Amy saw a large rectangular mirror.  To her left, she saw a doorway with brass hinges but which was missing the door; it appeared to open onto a hallway.  Occasionally, a pseudo-lizard or a human passed by.  Next to the window were a sink, a toilet, and a shower.  She could not see into the shower, because the glass panels were frosted.  Amy stood up, crossed to the shower, and looked inside.  There was a washcloth and a fresh unused bar of soap on a plastic shelf.  A large towel hung on the exterior rack attached to the frosted door.  Amy’s nose caught a whiff of disinfectant as if the room had recently been cleaned.

Where am I?  Why am I here?  She went to the door and peered into the hallway.  She could hear alien hissings down the hallway, and a human was speaking in another room.  Hastily Amy stepped back toward the center of the room and scanned it for something to place in the doorway, but she saw nothing she could use to keep the aliens and the other