Board Queen – Part 5
Part four of Board Queen was a wonderful opportunity to dig into the world of Speedway. I had the chance to flesh out the woman who would become something so important in Diz’s, plus it’s just neat to dig into the nitty gritty of the world Diz has been hired into. I love how Carl treats his employees, the way he instinctively mixes good treatment with high expectations. It creates a real sense of belonging, of fellowship with the company and the man who runs it. How Diz relates to Carl and her own driving need to deserve merit from Carl shapes how she relates to the world, and it’s simply a character trait of Carl’s which has such an enormous domino effect on all the characters around him. That’s addictive.
At this stage, I’m thinking that what I want to do with this piece is work all the way up to about 9500 words for this particular story. Each leg of the journey is around 1500 words apiece, with the preface chewing up the first five hundred or so words of each day’s labor. I wanted to get into more future aspects of Diz’s adventures, but I honestly have been enjoying her backstory so very much that I haven’t wanted to stop. I truly and deeply believe that I’m only scratching the surface with the Ring which Diz calls home, and it’s a series aborning, which makes me insanely proud. I’d love nothing more than to craft Diz’s adventures and give a group of young minds a healthy and positive role model.
One of the most important things to remember with any great work of science fiction is that the genre itself begs for philosophical debate. Think Isaac Asimov or Philip K Dick. Both of those amazing Sci-Fi authors had common themes in their work; posing not only a scientific ‘what-if’, but using that as a vehicle to have a very deep discussion on human behavior. Especially with the short stories of Philip, each one posed such wonderful and thoughtful questions that you’re never the same person after you read one of his works. It changes you in subtle ways, showing you things about yourself you could never have found out any other way. I want that for my own writing. I want to pose deep questions about the nature of humanities relationship with power, and how a man or a woman would react to suddenly finding themselves in possession of great amounts of it. Do they remain a good person? Does it truly corrupt them, as we are so often told it will? Or are there some extraordinary individuals who never sought power, but when they have it thrust upon them, are capable of remaining themselves in the face of their newfound strength? I often ponder questions like these, and I feel that I will be a success as an author if I can make you ponder them as well.
And now, for your reading pleasure…
Board Queen – Part 5
“Horace!” Pony shouted for what had to be the tenth time that day “Why do you keep putting your weight on your back foot when you hit the accelerator? If you do that while in traffic, you’ll accelerate upwards right into an air-car!” Horace disentangled himself sheepishly from the safety netting along the wall of the training course, and hastily added “Of course Mrs. Ridley, I will do better next time.” Pony let loose a long suffering sigh, and muttered under her breath so that only Diz could hear as she walked by “That’s what you said the last eight times.” Diz smiled. She liked Horace, he was a very honest man, but he couldn’t stay on his board to save his soul. She had no doubt that when next weeks cuts were announced, Horace would be let go. He would be compensated for the entire six months of training, but that was simply because Carl refused to burn bridges he didn’t have to.
Diz put her mind back on the course that Pony had her riding today. After her laughably easy first day, Pony had used every trick at her disposal to make sure that Diz never had it that easy again. She wasn’t playing around either, Diz had realized shortly into the second day. The practice satchel she had been given to wear around the course specially designed for her made everything different. All of her natural ability and practice was needed just to keep her upright with an extra twenty pounds strapped across her back. After four hours of boarding through her training course, she had been so exhausted that she had simply crashed on one of the couches in the lounge after eating a hearty dinner in the cafeteria. Pony walked in the next day to find her snoring in a little ball on the couch, and had woken her up with her usual unrepentant laughter and a steaming hot mug of nutricaf. At first, Diz had thought Pony acted this way with all the recruits. As the days turned to weeks however, no one else ever got to call her Pony. She was polite and friendly with everyone, but never seemed to spend any time with any of the other trainees after lessons. Diz soon realized that Pony genuinely enjoyed her company, and that pleased Diz to no end.
Diz soon learned that there was more to delivery work than zipping from A to B as fast as she could. She had to sign a bunch of non-disclosure agreements stating she would not open any of the packages she delivered. In addition, she had the added burden of getting her citizenship paperwork in order. Carl had pulled a few strings, and she was going to be allowed to obtain brand new documentation. Carl wanted to make sure everything about her hiring and education remained legal. Pony helped her tremendously on that front, and even though Diz never asked for any help, Pony seemed to turn up whenever she needed help. The final, and most important, part of being a courier was the self-defense course. The reason that Horace hadn’t wiped out after almost a full month was his amazing aptitude with self-defense. You see, Pony’s grav pistols weren’t for show. They were a vital part of making sure the packages were delivered safely. The second week of training, when self-defense courses began, she showed everyone exactly how devastating she was with them. When all the trainees were lined up, Pony had whipped towards the firing range without warning, drawn her grav pistol in one smooth motion, and without so much as blinking blasted all ten targets through the middle. She popped out the spent charge pack, slapped home a fresh one, and holstered the pistol while everyone clapped and cheered.
Diz soon realized she wouldn’t be working with the shooting range anytime soon. Grav pistols required registration and licensing, and to register you had to be an adult. She wouldn’t be considered an adult until she turned nineteen. Knowing this, Pony had hired one of the Unified Martial Arts trainers which always did steady business on the Ring helping those who wanted safety outside of a grav gun. A squat, slightly wizened man greeted her across the training mat when she walked in, yet he moved with feline grace as he walked over and shook Diz’s hand. “Welcome to the hardest training of your life, little warrior. Mrs. Ridley here has made it abundantly clear that Carl wants you to be able to protect yourself. Five hours each evening, six days a week, you are to meet me in this sparring room. I will make sure that you aren’t injured, but you will grow quite the collection of bruises.” He stated this without any sense of malice, merely stating a fact. “If you have questions, please do not hesitate to ask them. The mind is every bit as important to train as the body, little warrior.” Diz gulped her apprehension down, and nodded at her new sensei. Pony, looking very satisfied with this arrangement, proceeded to inform Diz that she would still need to continue with her training on the obstacle course. Diz threw her a look of disgust, which made Pony smile as she walked out.
Diz’s life to that point had not included an idyllic childhood. She had grown up on the streets, fighting for every scrap of bread and every moment of rest. She knew her way around a brawl, having had them almost daily. Zhang, her instructor, made it readily apparent that she still had a very long way to go. She was soon sweating freely and breathing in gasps as Zhang taught her how to control her body, how to carry her weight correctly as she moved, and how to maintain her balance with every action she took so that she was never caught flat footed. This last aspect of her training made Zhang cry out with delight. “Very good little warrior!” he cried with glee as he was unable to disrupt her balance after trying to catch her off guard. “This is the biggest stumbling block to effective defensive skills, and you are simply a natural with it.” Diz grinned. Her skill on the hoverboard also flowed from her exceptional balance. It was surely an offspring of her short stature. She never really minded being so small, but she secretly nursed a desire to grow up tall and beautiful like Pony.
As the weeks continued, Zhang eventually called her fit enough to start learning martial arts. Diz had long ago swallowed any hint of complaining about the wait. Zhang always listened patiently to her if she got impatient. However, her sessions always turned into complete misery after she had voiced such complains. With never a mean word, and without pushing her past her limits, Zhang made his displeasure clear. Diz dropped like a rock after those sessions, usually right on the couch. It didn’t take her long to admit defeat and not question the pace Zhang was setting. The afternoon Zhang did finally clear her to take a swing at him, she did so with no small amount of pent up aggression. She might as well have tried to punch a spaceship from a seat in the cafeteria; she missed by a mile. Zhang didn’t even look like he’d moved to dodge it. The next fifteen minutes were basically the same three seconds played out with minor variations. Punch, miss. Kick, miss. Grab, miss. Wiping sweat off her forehead, Diz threw up her right hand with her rightmost three fingers extended in the sign of surrender used on the streets. Zhang laughed, recognizing the sign at once. “You’ve done well, little warrior. I’ve had close to one hundred and thirty years to learn my craft. Students who have worked for years with me don’t come as close as you, and always put themselves off balance in the process. We’ll make a warrior of you yet, mark my words.”
That became Diz’s world. She worked three days a week, went to school three days a week, and spent each of those evenings in training with Zhang. Diz had no idea how, but before she had realized it two full months had elapsed since training began. The lessons began tiring her far less than they had. Zhang and Pony both were exceedingly pleased with her progress. It hardly seemed real to her, how wonderful everything in her life had become. She should have known that it was too good to last, but the way her tiny bubble of safety was destroyed would change everything about her new existence.
To be continued…
Zhangfully,
Justin
