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With This Ring (Young Justice SI) (Thread Fourteen)
- Thread starter Mr Zoat
- Start date
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- self insert young justice
CrazyNoVa
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So, what exactly is Kara's deal, anyway? She's got this whole "manic pixie dream girl" thing going on and she reminds me a lot of Bart Allen/Impulse from the comics, but I'm not a die-hard Supergirl fan, so I'm not sure if this is normal for her or if there's something off about her.
Mr Zoat
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About as well as can be expected.
No, and he won't. It would be too cold blooded for him.
BR549
This is filth! FILTH!!
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She's from an Earth that, from the standpoint of comics, never went past the Silver Age. Thus, her behavior is entirely in line with Silver Age norms.
It's when compared to the 'modern' viewpoint of almost everyone else that she comes across as hyperactively off.
Ardy
I trust you know where the happy button is?
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Since Amalek knows about this and is expecting him… I wonder what Amalek will do
Steelplaza
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I'm not sure I agree. What you're saying is what the story tried to get us to believe at first, but Zoat has been carefully showing us increasing oddities in her behavior. I think it's on purpose, and there's something more going on that he's slowly feeding us clues about.
We don't really know anything about this Supergirl or how she got here. She just showed up in the middle of a bunch of other Supergirls whose story we do know... like they were providing camouflage for her, almost. How exactly did "Silver Age Supergirl" get here? Why hasn't she expressed more concerns about going home? Questions that no one is asking very hard.
Ardy
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To be fair, a lot happened around then and supergirl is arguably the physically strongest superhero on the planet. Would you want to interrogate the unstable planet-crusher about the death of everyone she know and loves when you've got better things to do?
Coast to Coast (part 12)
Mr Zoat
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7th December 2282
09:32 GMT
"…as 'Your Majesty' the first time, but subsequently she should be addressed as 'ma'am'. Similarly, as you have been acknowledged as the New California Republic's ambassador, she will refer to you as 'Your Excellency' during the initial introduction, and as 'Mister Kr-'."
The Personal Secretary giving me the remedial etiquette lecture pauses in his rote spiel.
"I apologise if this is a personal question, but is 'Krono' really your name? I can well understand an agent-at-large using a nom de guerre, but this is an official meeting."
I find myself looking around the room. The palace itself is in fairly good repair, paper and paint replaced or being replaced where age had damaged it. The upholstery is worn in places but I can see where furniture had been added recently too. Some things… Well, we don't have any native natural cotton or silk production, but wool is plentiful and nylon shouldn't be that hard to put back into production. And if you can't keep the palace looking nice then your civilisation is in big trouble.
I return my attention to the Personal Secretary. "It's-. I had it legally changed. My original name was different, but I…" I waggle my right hand vaguely at the side of my head. "I can't say it anymore. Does Her Majesty read comics?"
"I do not believe so, but your meeting will be recorded for obvious reasons, and some of those who watch it will." He give me a look such as an indulgent dog owner might give an incontinent puppy. "Why on Earth did you select that for your new name?"
"I was trying to integrate into a tribal group and I didn't know their naming customs. I asked a small child what he thought was a good name, and… Here I am."
His brows raise by about half a centimetre. "My word."
I bow my head slightly. "Quite."
"Well. The Gentry won't mind and the citizenry most likely won't remember. So I think that's everything-. Ah. Except the dogs."
"Dogs? Oh, Queen Elizabeth the Second had a pack of corgis. Does Queen Elizabeth the Third maintain the tradition?"
"Yes, the Queen's dogs have been her companions for a… Long time. They also underwent the… Change, you understand?"
Ghoul corgis? Huh. I suppose… Really, it's more strange that there aren't ghouls of other species than that there are.
"Canis familiaris ardens?"
"Just so."
I nod. "Are there any behavioural quirks I should be aware of, or should I just treat them like normal dogs?"
"Without… Fur, they don't respond quite so well to being stroked, but they'll still sniff you and otherwise engage in typical dog behaviours."
"Alright." I nod. "I think I'm up to speed. Please let Her Majesty know that I await her pleasure."
He hesitates for a moment, reviewing me.
"I suppose it works for a trial run. We're a little out of practice at receiving foreign dignitaries."
He takes a deep breath, sighs, then turns and walks out of the room. I can track him telepathically if I have to, but I think it's best to let things play out without exotic effort. Instead, I turn to Peter.
"So, you're a sergeant."
He looks at me as if I just said something stupid. "Yes?"
"I was wondering how promotions work in the Life Guard, given that you're all two hundred year veterans. I mean, Lieutenant Roper is a lieutenant, and I assume that he's got the same level of experience that you do."
"Promotions fill gaps only. Honestly, at this point most of us could do the job of junior officers. And junior officers could probably do the work of senior officers. When we work with the Tommies-. With the regular army, you know, we get attached to headquarters so some child with a tenth of our experience at best doesn't try giving us orders."
"And recruitment?"
He shrugs. "We've had other Simons join up. People who weren't in the military before the Resource Wars. At the point there's not much difference. And a few who turned later. We weren't sure about them, but they did alright."
"Thanks, Sarge."
"Quiet in the ranks." He shakes his head. "But really, you've either got two hundred years of life experience or you haven't. I've been in charge of 'young people' before, but we just don't gel."
"Would you consider recruiting American Simons?"
"Why?" He frowns. "Don't they have better things to do?"
"Some do, but others… Have trouble dealing with their situation, mentally. And… In a lot of places they're not well regarded."
"Why?" He thinks for a moment. "Oh. Because America had more survivors. They don't need Simons for the pre-War skills like Britain does."
"Partially that, and partially because a far greater proportion have mental breakdowns. And I haven't seen a glowing one since I arrived, so I assume that you don't have those."
"What's that, then?"
"A glowing one is a Simon who's absorbed enough radioactive material that they glow green and irradiate anyone near them. It acts as a bit of a pick-me-up for other Simons but is pretty dangerous for everyone else."
He stares at me in puzzlement. "They glow.. green..? What-?"
The double doors at the end of the room open, and-.
"Ruff."
The first thing I see is the swarm of ghoul dogs trotting into the room. They're small animals and normally I wouldn't see them as threatening, but the lack of fur, peeling skin and the odd look of their ghoulified eyes makes them more disturbing than I thought they'd be. With human ghouls, you can usually tell from their behaviour whether they're compos mentis or not. But with animals?
My eyes pass over the two Life Guard leading the Queen's party. If she's the one keeping the realm together it makes sense that she'd need an escort at all times. I'm not sure how commonly available guns are here compared to back home, but that's only sensible. Then the Personal Secretary, holding out his right hand to indicate me to-.
A short ghoul woman, slightly stooped, wearing a blue jacket over a cream dress. Permed white hair sticks out slightly from underneath a blue hat. Her skin looks relatively healthy for a ghoul, missing nose notwithstanding, and there's a bit more of a spark in her eyes than in most ghouls I've seen. And those eyes narrow a little as Queen Elizabeth III takes me in in return.
I bow as I was instructed as she and her Personal Secretary approach.
"This is Ambassador Krono, ma'am. From California."
"A pleasure, Your Majesty."
"The pleasure is all mine, You Excellency."
Oh. I take her hand for a moment as protocol directs, but-.
"Is something the miss, young man?"
"No ma'am. Ah, for a moment I was-. Surprised, by how greatly you resemble your namesake, Queen Elizabeth the Second. You even sound like her."
She smiles, not an inherently pleasant visual display in a ghoul, but a psychologically reassuring one as it indicates that there's still a sense of self in there.
"I think that I shall take that as a great compliment." I can feel the corgiswarm pressing noses into my legs, but it's such a dog thing to do that it's reassuring as well. "I'm an admirer of my great grandmother."
I nod. "She was a great woman. I-. I mean no offence, but I honestly struggle to imagine the country without her."
"Oh? Did you know her well?"
"No, not at all. But I do know a few stories, if you're interested?"
09:32 GMT
"…as 'Your Majesty' the first time, but subsequently she should be addressed as 'ma'am'. Similarly, as you have been acknowledged as the New California Republic's ambassador, she will refer to you as 'Your Excellency' during the initial introduction, and as 'Mister Kr-'."
The Personal Secretary giving me the remedial etiquette lecture pauses in his rote spiel.
"I apologise if this is a personal question, but is 'Krono' really your name? I can well understand an agent-at-large using a nom de guerre, but this is an official meeting."
I find myself looking around the room. The palace itself is in fairly good repair, paper and paint replaced or being replaced where age had damaged it. The upholstery is worn in places but I can see where furniture had been added recently too. Some things… Well, we don't have any native natural cotton or silk production, but wool is plentiful and nylon shouldn't be that hard to put back into production. And if you can't keep the palace looking nice then your civilisation is in big trouble.
I return my attention to the Personal Secretary. "It's-. I had it legally changed. My original name was different, but I…" I waggle my right hand vaguely at the side of my head. "I can't say it anymore. Does Her Majesty read comics?"
"I do not believe so, but your meeting will be recorded for obvious reasons, and some of those who watch it will." He give me a look such as an indulgent dog owner might give an incontinent puppy. "Why on Earth did you select that for your new name?"
"I was trying to integrate into a tribal group and I didn't know their naming customs. I asked a small child what he thought was a good name, and… Here I am."
His brows raise by about half a centimetre. "My word."
I bow my head slightly. "Quite."
"Well. The Gentry won't mind and the citizenry most likely won't remember. So I think that's everything-. Ah. Except the dogs."
"Dogs? Oh, Queen Elizabeth the Second had a pack of corgis. Does Queen Elizabeth the Third maintain the tradition?"
"Yes, the Queen's dogs have been her companions for a… Long time. They also underwent the… Change, you understand?"
Ghoul corgis? Huh. I suppose… Really, it's more strange that there aren't ghouls of other species than that there are.
"Canis familiaris ardens?"
"Just so."
I nod. "Are there any behavioural quirks I should be aware of, or should I just treat them like normal dogs?"
"Without… Fur, they don't respond quite so well to being stroked, but they'll still sniff you and otherwise engage in typical dog behaviours."
"Alright." I nod. "I think I'm up to speed. Please let Her Majesty know that I await her pleasure."
He hesitates for a moment, reviewing me.
"I suppose it works for a trial run. We're a little out of practice at receiving foreign dignitaries."
He takes a deep breath, sighs, then turns and walks out of the room. I can track him telepathically if I have to, but I think it's best to let things play out without exotic effort. Instead, I turn to Peter.
"So, you're a sergeant."
He looks at me as if I just said something stupid. "Yes?"
"I was wondering how promotions work in the Life Guard, given that you're all two hundred year veterans. I mean, Lieutenant Roper is a lieutenant, and I assume that he's got the same level of experience that you do."
"Promotions fill gaps only. Honestly, at this point most of us could do the job of junior officers. And junior officers could probably do the work of senior officers. When we work with the Tommies-. With the regular army, you know, we get attached to headquarters so some child with a tenth of our experience at best doesn't try giving us orders."
"And recruitment?"
He shrugs. "We've had other Simons join up. People who weren't in the military before the Resource Wars. At the point there's not much difference. And a few who turned later. We weren't sure about them, but they did alright."
"Thanks, Sarge."
"Quiet in the ranks." He shakes his head. "But really, you've either got two hundred years of life experience or you haven't. I've been in charge of 'young people' before, but we just don't gel."
"Would you consider recruiting American Simons?"
"Why?" He frowns. "Don't they have better things to do?"
"Some do, but others… Have trouble dealing with their situation, mentally. And… In a lot of places they're not well regarded."
"Why?" He thinks for a moment. "Oh. Because America had more survivors. They don't need Simons for the pre-War skills like Britain does."
"Partially that, and partially because a far greater proportion have mental breakdowns. And I haven't seen a glowing one since I arrived, so I assume that you don't have those."
"What's that, then?"
"A glowing one is a Simon who's absorbed enough radioactive material that they glow green and irradiate anyone near them. It acts as a bit of a pick-me-up for other Simons but is pretty dangerous for everyone else."
He stares at me in puzzlement. "They glow.. green..? What-?"
The double doors at the end of the room open, and-.
"Ruff."
The first thing I see is the swarm of ghoul dogs trotting into the room. They're small animals and normally I wouldn't see them as threatening, but the lack of fur, peeling skin and the odd look of their ghoulified eyes makes them more disturbing than I thought they'd be. With human ghouls, you can usually tell from their behaviour whether they're compos mentis or not. But with animals?
My eyes pass over the two Life Guard leading the Queen's party. If she's the one keeping the realm together it makes sense that she'd need an escort at all times. I'm not sure how commonly available guns are here compared to back home, but that's only sensible. Then the Personal Secretary, holding out his right hand to indicate me to-.
A short ghoul woman, slightly stooped, wearing a blue jacket over a cream dress. Permed white hair sticks out slightly from underneath a blue hat. Her skin looks relatively healthy for a ghoul, missing nose notwithstanding, and there's a bit more of a spark in her eyes than in most ghouls I've seen. And those eyes narrow a little as Queen Elizabeth III takes me in in return.
I bow as I was instructed as she and her Personal Secretary approach.
"This is Ambassador Krono, ma'am. From California."
"A pleasure, Your Majesty."
"The pleasure is all mine, You Excellency."
Oh. I take her hand for a moment as protocol directs, but-.
"Is something the miss, young man?"
"No ma'am. Ah, for a moment I was-. Surprised, by how greatly you resemble your namesake, Queen Elizabeth the Second. You even sound like her."
She smiles, not an inherently pleasant visual display in a ghoul, but a psychologically reassuring one as it indicates that there's still a sense of self in there.
"I think that I shall take that as a great compliment." I can feel the corgiswarm pressing noses into my legs, but it's such a dog thing to do that it's reassuring as well. "I'm an admirer of my great grandmother."
I nod. "She was a great woman. I-. I mean no offence, but I honestly struggle to imagine the country without her."
"Oh? Did you know her well?"
"No, not at all. But I do know a few stories, if you're interested?"
Last edited:
Darko
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"but is"
I'm thinking that they look like Scamp from the Venture Bros pilot.
"greatly resemble"
"smiles, not an"
"her well"
Mr Zoat
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Thank you, corrected.
Lord Ernest
At the End...
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I wish the main SI spent more time in Great Britain. I love this british humorous moments but unfortunately they only happen when the Illustres hangs around Cornwall Boy or Squire, which doesn't happen often (or more like, not at all for years).
Interesting concept, that Ghouls might want to migrate because they could be more appreciated in the UK than in the US.
Chojin Patriarch
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Heh. His chosen alias ending up being a bit of a penalty in certain circles, eh? Especially if the fictional Krono was a bit of a villain or anti-hero. No doubt some of them are wondering if he's going to have an outbreak of face-punching at any moment...
Just a bit of natural wear and tear, mostly, then. No doubt all the old artwork and decorations got cleaned out back during the wars to keep it all safe.
And with a description like that, I can picture the disdain projected in his face...
'Out of the mouths of babes' and all that. Honestly, he's lucky the kid named a superhero and not some popular kiddy hero...
Because the English monarchy love their pets.
They didn't mutate into Deathclaws or something, did they?
...And now I'm picturing the hulk dogs from that Hulk movie.
Let's hope they aren't prone to nibbling on people.
Wonder if their intelligence improved any. That might be an interesting angle to see...
I'm not surprised, especially if your closest neighbour hates your guts.
Kind of impressive after this long. But I suppose he might prefer to be the 'I actually work for a living' kind of soldier...
After all, rank may have its privileges, but it also has responsibilities he might not care to take up.
Unsurprising. You know some right rupert would try it just to put 'the lads' in their place.
By his lofty standards, that's high praise indeed.
Of course not, what with their 'music with rocks in' and their silly dancing and their dodgy haircuts...
Talk about a generation gap...Would be interesting to see the results. Get some proper British discipline into the Yankees.
Very quick on the uptake, isn't he? Joy of that 200 years of experience.
...Yeah, that sounds like a troublesome thing.
Honestly, the whole 'radioactive stuff glows yellow-green' is a strange trope. If anything, it should be blue.
Probably as odd to see as a Sphynx cat. Except a little chubbier...
Ah, yes, the protocols of meeting a reigning monarch. Probably needing to be a little more cautious, especially if the lady isn't stable. Don't want her snapping at an offered hand or something like that.
Heh. He's being weighed and judged. Probably summed up as 'Poor lad's gone native, hasn't he? Bloody Americans.'
Would have been amusing if she'd responded with 'What, the comic book character? Bloody 'ell.'
Well, at least she's all there for the moment.
A bit reluctant to do the 'bow and kiss the hand' thing, Krono? Understandable.
Yes, all those rather sharp teeth on display... Most people would likely be sweating a little right now.
Honestly, she stepped up after her father's passing. And set a few records in the process.
Say what you will about her, but the Queen did her job well...
Well, that went well. I shudder to imagine what the corgis could do if she didn't like someone. Like a pack of cute, cuddle pirahnas. Fortunately, she's not playing the mad queen. And sharing stories of an ancestor is a smart way to get on her good side, by the looks of it. Now, to broach the subject of a medical and psychological examination...
Coast to Coast (part 13)
Mr Zoat
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7th December 2282
09:39 GMT
"…ashen-faced minister frantically apologises. Then the Queen leans forwards and says… 'I do hope it wasn't anyone important, dear'."
In front of me, her great granddaughter starts giggling. And I really hope that she's sufficiently entertained because I don't have that many Queen Elizabeth II stories and I've already done the tourist photography one and the photobomb one.
I take the opportunity to have a quick look inside her head, but… Great War era ghouls are never entirely mentally healthy-. Even compared to normal wastelanders. The human brain is simply designed to work within the confines of a small tight-knit hunter gatherer community, and taking it outside of that results in problems. Two hundred years of being in charge of a badly broken country following the violent deaths of her parents, aunt, uncle and cousins… That does damage. Similarly, the obvious damage to her face -particularly her nose- that comes with being a ghoul greets her in the mirror every morning. The human brain knows what a healthy face looks like.
"However did you find out?"
"Years later, after the minister in question left office, she told the world about it in an interview. She was still embarrassed, but she was grateful that the Queen had just made a joke of it."
And then there's the fact that she's been doing the same sort of thing for two hundred years. I'm not completely convinced that changing jobs every decade or so is the trick to remaining sane, but some range of stimuli would certainly be helpful. But that's not.. really something that I can help with. I'd be happy to set up a state visit to Texas or California, but she is actually needed here, overseeing the upper levels of the British government. She's a good deal more hands on than her great grandmother, but… She has to be. It's not a titular head of state usurping power from an elected body, it's the lynchpin using the power that's hers usually in theory to keep the nation functioning.
She glances at her Personal Secretary, who gives a small shrug.
"You wouldn't have any more stories about her, would you? I barely knew her, and I could only learn so much from my Uncle William's stories."
"Only one, really. One of the official duties of the royal family was entertaining foreign dignitaries. Queen Elizabeth the Second was particularly good at charming foreign heads of state, so the foreign office sometimes asked her to step in when they were out of ideas. So on one occasion they ended up with her, Prince Philip and a group of foreign aristocrats at Balmoral, and the Queen… Who must have been in her sixties or seventies at that point… She asks one of the younger members of their group if he'd like to go for a drive around the estate. Well, naturally he's honoured, so he says 'yes', assuming that she'll call over a chauffeur and conduct the tour herself."
"But she doesn't. Instead, she walks over to a Land Rover and gets into the driver's seat. He's a bit surprised by that, and looks around to see if anyone else is reacting to it, but no one is, so… Not wanting to look like a total bore, he gets into the passenger seat. She's the Queen, in her country on her estate. If she wants to drive herself, she can drive herself."
"At which point the Queen slams her foot on the accelerator and hares off down the road like a bat out of hell, and his face is like,-"
I grimace, eyes staring widely in front of me.
"-and she starts conducting the tour while looking at him and speaking in a calm and conversational tone while driving around at top speed because she learned to drive on those roads and has been driving on them for fifty years. She doesn't need to watch where she's going because she's memorised the whole thing, but he doesn't know that and so he's squeezing the armrests as tightly as he can, clearly terrified, but he can't quite bring himself to ask her to slow down. He endures the whole thing, not able to focus on anything she's saying, and when they get back to the manor he's left there, sitting in the seat and-"
I take the pose again, this time adding frantic panting.
"-trying to recover."
Queen Elizabeth III starts chuckling again. "And what did she say to him?"
I shake my head. "I'm afraid that I don't know. If I had to guess, she would probably have noticed that he was in a bit of a state and suggested that everyone give him a moment to pull himself together."
I can feel it as something stirs deep in her memories. It's a positive association, but so fleeting that I can't get a good look at it. I could dive in after it, but I'm not good at splitting my attention to do things like that while keeping up my end of a conversation.
"What country was he from?"
"Saudi Arabia, I think. The Queen got on well with their royal family due to their shared love of horses. That was the other reason he was surprised she was driving; in their country-"
Something's… Wrong. Their minds-. I don't know what-.
"-women weren't allowed to.. drive."
"Llleeeeeeeehhhhhh!"
The Queen's whole posture changes, hunching over, mouth distended and teeth bared! A woman who was chuckling merrily a moment ago has now-. Ghouls don't go feral that quickly! That's not how it works!
"EEEEeeeeeeeeee!" / "Rauw!" / "Har-rauw!"
And the corgis are looking decidedly less friendly, teeth bared and prepared to charge!
"Ah?"
I make momentary eye contact with the Personal Secretary as he shepherds the Life Guards out of the room and closes the.. doors.
Okay, my body armour isn't good enough to protect me from frenzied ghoul bites indefinitely. My inertia suppression field will help, but biting and dragging tends to drain the battery. And using it will show that I have it. Plus I don't.. seem to have triggered whatever it is that would make the Queen attack yet and the corgis are following her lead.
I reach out mentally for the Personal Secretary-.
"…mentioned the Saudis. I know. We might be able to reach them on long wave radio. … Well, we'll have to. This isn't an uppity newsagent. If the Californians can make aircraft-."
And I get the thought associated with the words. The events concerning the start of the Resource War traumatised the Queen, and when someone brings them up-. She's killed people before, and they cover it up for the good of the nation. The mental images-. She blanks the whole thing after it happens.
Okay, but those doors aren't that thick. I should be able to break through with telekinesis and brute FEV-augmented strength. She'll pursue me, and… What happens when they restrain-? They've lost guards doing that before, and it takes a long time for her to come around. Workable for me, but hardly ideal.
Right. Scan the corgis-. The corgis are just picking up the stress from their mistress. That, and they've learned that when this happens they're supposed to attack. The Queen is still waiting for the pounce trigger. I could grab her telekinetically, but that would probably trigger her to attack and the corgis will almost certainly notice. The Queen isn't feral, she's traumatised, which means that her current mental state isn't normal. Telepathic intrusion doesn't have the best success rate for curing mental illness but I should be able to switch her from one mental state to another, especially knowing what the trigger is. Reach out…
Agh, it's like she's having some sort of seizure! My own pulse and respiration rates start to increase in sympathy, and-. No, no, stop those pulses because something is detecting what I'm doing and sending attack signals. Quieten that part down because it seems to be where they're coming-.
Turn it back on because that nearly caused a stroke!
Ah…
Okay, that positive feeling I felt earlier, where is..? There, but forcing it is probably going to cause another stroke, so… Ah, auditory cortex connection is there…
"Of course, your great grandfather had a substantially cruder sense of humour." Attack impulse suppressed, keep trying to connect via the auditory cortex. "Once, when visiting some British students in China, he warned them that if they stayed too long they'd end up with slitty eyes."
A tiny pulse of recognition in the auditory cortex, connecting to memories and emotions-. There! Grab it, connect the positive feeling and push down on the feral impulses..!
"Oh." The Queen blinks, straightening up as the corgis look around in confusion. "I'm sorry, I seem to have lost-." She looks around. "Where have all the guards wandered off to?"
"I think they ate something that didn't agree with them. Probably be a queue for the toilets a mile long, poor chaps. So, um, look, I'd love to reminisce more about your great grandmother, but I am supposed to be on the job."
"Hm?" She hasn't quite come fully out of it, but… Mental nudge there. "Oh. Oh yes, I quite understand. It's all go, sometimes."
I nod. "I'll be happy to report to the President that Britain is recovering, but I imagine that he's going to be interested in trade: exchanges of technology or resources. So I'm going to need a list of things that Britain wants, and what if can offer in exchange."
"To be honest, we need all manner of things. As to what we can offer…" She frowns for a moment, then nods to herself. "Tell me, young man: do you know what a 'transistor' is?"
09:39 GMT
"…ashen-faced minister frantically apologises. Then the Queen leans forwards and says… 'I do hope it wasn't anyone important, dear'."
In front of me, her great granddaughter starts giggling. And I really hope that she's sufficiently entertained because I don't have that many Queen Elizabeth II stories and I've already done the tourist photography one and the photobomb one.
I take the opportunity to have a quick look inside her head, but… Great War era ghouls are never entirely mentally healthy-. Even compared to normal wastelanders. The human brain is simply designed to work within the confines of a small tight-knit hunter gatherer community, and taking it outside of that results in problems. Two hundred years of being in charge of a badly broken country following the violent deaths of her parents, aunt, uncle and cousins… That does damage. Similarly, the obvious damage to her face -particularly her nose- that comes with being a ghoul greets her in the mirror every morning. The human brain knows what a healthy face looks like.
"However did you find out?"
"Years later, after the minister in question left office, she told the world about it in an interview. She was still embarrassed, but she was grateful that the Queen had just made a joke of it."
And then there's the fact that she's been doing the same sort of thing for two hundred years. I'm not completely convinced that changing jobs every decade or so is the trick to remaining sane, but some range of stimuli would certainly be helpful. But that's not.. really something that I can help with. I'd be happy to set up a state visit to Texas or California, but she is actually needed here, overseeing the upper levels of the British government. She's a good deal more hands on than her great grandmother, but… She has to be. It's not a titular head of state usurping power from an elected body, it's the lynchpin using the power that's hers usually in theory to keep the nation functioning.
She glances at her Personal Secretary, who gives a small shrug.
"You wouldn't have any more stories about her, would you? I barely knew her, and I could only learn so much from my Uncle William's stories."
"Only one, really. One of the official duties of the royal family was entertaining foreign dignitaries. Queen Elizabeth the Second was particularly good at charming foreign heads of state, so the foreign office sometimes asked her to step in when they were out of ideas. So on one occasion they ended up with her, Prince Philip and a group of foreign aristocrats at Balmoral, and the Queen… Who must have been in her sixties or seventies at that point… She asks one of the younger members of their group if he'd like to go for a drive around the estate. Well, naturally he's honoured, so he says 'yes', assuming that she'll call over a chauffeur and conduct the tour herself."
"But she doesn't. Instead, she walks over to a Land Rover and gets into the driver's seat. He's a bit surprised by that, and looks around to see if anyone else is reacting to it, but no one is, so… Not wanting to look like a total bore, he gets into the passenger seat. She's the Queen, in her country on her estate. If she wants to drive herself, she can drive herself."
"At which point the Queen slams her foot on the accelerator and hares off down the road like a bat out of hell, and his face is like,-"
I grimace, eyes staring widely in front of me.
"-and she starts conducting the tour while looking at him and speaking in a calm and conversational tone while driving around at top speed because she learned to drive on those roads and has been driving on them for fifty years. She doesn't need to watch where she's going because she's memorised the whole thing, but he doesn't know that and so he's squeezing the armrests as tightly as he can, clearly terrified, but he can't quite bring himself to ask her to slow down. He endures the whole thing, not able to focus on anything she's saying, and when they get back to the manor he's left there, sitting in the seat and-"
I take the pose again, this time adding frantic panting.
"-trying to recover."
Queen Elizabeth III starts chuckling again. "And what did she say to him?"
I shake my head. "I'm afraid that I don't know. If I had to guess, she would probably have noticed that he was in a bit of a state and suggested that everyone give him a moment to pull himself together."
I can feel it as something stirs deep in her memories. It's a positive association, but so fleeting that I can't get a good look at it. I could dive in after it, but I'm not good at splitting my attention to do things like that while keeping up my end of a conversation.
"What country was he from?"
"Saudi Arabia, I think. The Queen got on well with their royal family due to their shared love of horses. That was the other reason he was surprised she was driving; in their country-"
Something's… Wrong. Their minds-. I don't know what-.
"-women weren't allowed to.. drive."
"Llleeeeeeeehhhhhh!"
The Queen's whole posture changes, hunching over, mouth distended and teeth bared! A woman who was chuckling merrily a moment ago has now-. Ghouls don't go feral that quickly! That's not how it works!
"EEEEeeeeeeeeee!" / "Rauw!" / "Har-rauw!"
And the corgis are looking decidedly less friendly, teeth bared and prepared to charge!
"Ah?"
I make momentary eye contact with the Personal Secretary as he shepherds the Life Guards out of the room and closes the.. doors.
Okay, my body armour isn't good enough to protect me from frenzied ghoul bites indefinitely. My inertia suppression field will help, but biting and dragging tends to drain the battery. And using it will show that I have it. Plus I don't.. seem to have triggered whatever it is that would make the Queen attack yet and the corgis are following her lead.
I reach out mentally for the Personal Secretary-.
"…mentioned the Saudis. I know. We might be able to reach them on long wave radio. … Well, we'll have to. This isn't an uppity newsagent. If the Californians can make aircraft-."
And I get the thought associated with the words. The events concerning the start of the Resource War traumatised the Queen, and when someone brings them up-. She's killed people before, and they cover it up for the good of the nation. The mental images-. She blanks the whole thing after it happens.
Okay, but those doors aren't that thick. I should be able to break through with telekinesis and brute FEV-augmented strength. She'll pursue me, and… What happens when they restrain-? They've lost guards doing that before, and it takes a long time for her to come around. Workable for me, but hardly ideal.
Right. Scan the corgis-. The corgis are just picking up the stress from their mistress. That, and they've learned that when this happens they're supposed to attack. The Queen is still waiting for the pounce trigger. I could grab her telekinetically, but that would probably trigger her to attack and the corgis will almost certainly notice. The Queen isn't feral, she's traumatised, which means that her current mental state isn't normal. Telepathic intrusion doesn't have the best success rate for curing mental illness but I should be able to switch her from one mental state to another, especially knowing what the trigger is. Reach out…
Agh, it's like she's having some sort of seizure! My own pulse and respiration rates start to increase in sympathy, and-. No, no, stop those pulses because something is detecting what I'm doing and sending attack signals. Quieten that part down because it seems to be where they're coming-.
Turn it back on because that nearly caused a stroke!
Ah…
Okay, that positive feeling I felt earlier, where is..? There, but forcing it is probably going to cause another stroke, so… Ah, auditory cortex connection is there…
"Of course, your great grandfather had a substantially cruder sense of humour." Attack impulse suppressed, keep trying to connect via the auditory cortex. "Once, when visiting some British students in China, he warned them that if they stayed too long they'd end up with slitty eyes."
A tiny pulse of recognition in the auditory cortex, connecting to memories and emotions-. There! Grab it, connect the positive feeling and push down on the feral impulses..!
"Oh." The Queen blinks, straightening up as the corgis look around in confusion. "I'm sorry, I seem to have lost-." She looks around. "Where have all the guards wandered off to?"
"I think they ate something that didn't agree with them. Probably be a queue for the toilets a mile long, poor chaps. So, um, look, I'd love to reminisce more about your great grandmother, but I am supposed to be on the job."
"Hm?" She hasn't quite come fully out of it, but… Mental nudge there. "Oh. Oh yes, I quite understand. It's all go, sometimes."
I nod. "I'll be happy to report to the President that Britain is recovering, but I imagine that he's going to be interested in trade: exchanges of technology or resources. So I'm going to need a list of things that Britain wants, and what if can offer in exchange."
"To be honest, we need all manner of things. As to what we can offer…" She frowns for a moment, then nods to herself. "Tell me, young man: do you know what a 'transistor' is?"
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Whenever Possible
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Oof, that's a particularly bad response to Paul's story telling.
Darko
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Mr Zoat
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Thank you, corrected.
KaiKolo
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That's one way of making sure that Paul doesn't try to poke too deeply into things.
I really liked this sudden trauma induced aggression. It really helps to show that centuries of hardship and the Ghoulification process left a heavy toll on people like the Queen.
Now I'm curious if the British government intended to keep the Queen out of the loop if they were to receive communications from the Middle East.
Yog
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This is particularly interesting, because Fallout Universe diverges from ours by never developing semiconductor transistors until just before the Great War. This is nuclear weapons grade tech deal here.
Chojin Patriarch
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That fallible human memory again. Still, if you've got her giggling like a schoolgirl, I think you're in her good graces. Still, sooner or later, you're going to have to get down to business and broach the issue of her stability. Even a light surface scan.
Quite a bit of stress. Honestly, her willpower is quite impressive if she's still mostly functional after all that.
And people didn't really expect her to be impish or pixieish that way, given her very British public persona.
That's what happens when the engine of government collapses due to being nuked, I suppose. America got around it by simply shattering into manageable bits. England probably doesn't have that option, given its size.
Heh. Tempted to compare her to the real-life princesses, but this is a different universe, and the entire history of the line could be very different,
Oh, ho... Little did they know she was trained as a driver in the Auxiliary Territorial Service, equivalent of the National Guard or Australia's Army Reserves...
And quite likely did every once in a while. Just to keep her hand in, you know.
Ah, yes, the face of a man feeling the hand of the Goddess of Acceleration pressing upon him.
...Wishing he had a change of trousers? I can't imagine playing passenger for an impromptu rally session would be anything less than terrifying.
I can just imagine.
Probably covering it with a polite comment about 'recovering from his lovely close-up view of the countryside,'
Honestly, would have been nice to have a second person doing the mental probing. Pity he went off on his own on this.
Ah... If I remember the history dump he gave, the Saudi's were partly responsible for some of the European conflicts, yes?
Ooh, anyone else would probably need a lozenge after that kind of throat-clearing...
...Don't tell me, the dogs have some low-level link to her and if she's agitated...
...They're agitated. And likely to be aggressive. And don't be fooled, Corgi's can be just as aggressive as bigger dogs when pushed.
And if worst comes to worst, you could maybe levitate up to the ceiling? I doubt she'd be that powerful enough to leap up that high, given the quite high ceilings in the palace.
Ah, they're worried they might have to explain to the Americans that their Ambassador got eaten by the Queen and her dogs? Not that they'd frame it so directly...
Well, kind of a blessing that she doesn't remember the details. Though I bet she has suspicions about what happened to whoever triggered an event.
Besides, that may upset them a little.
Let's not go for a literal cooldown hug, but a soothing mental wavelength might manage it?
Some very defined survival instincts, it seems.
Very well-defined.
...Yes, Prince Phillip was a bit of an upper-class Twit. But the British knew that and forgave him for his occasional gaffe.
Probably the first time she's come out of one of these without a group of guards around... Plus that lovely short-term amnesia.
Sadly, they can't natter all day about her long-lost family.
Well, now. That is quite the game-changer. Even if they're only at eighties-tier level of complexity, that's still quite an increase in processing power, even with American micro-tube or simple transistor computers. And if they've progressed as far as 16-bit?
Watch out!Crisis, grievous bodily harm and international incident neatly averted, Krono. Well done. Let's just remember not to mention the Saudis again. It'll be interesting to see if the British transistor technology has advanced any compared to the American. Just imagine what they both could do with better infrastructure for development and manufacturing...
NightmareWarden
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I retract my previous idea for the Queen. This chapter was… it made me feel useless. It made me believe that if I could call upon any doctors and medicines in our world, they still wouldn't be able to help with her tragic state.
Bloody hell, I suppose is the thing to say.
On a lighter note, I think the opportunity to use his homeland's surviving Britishisms with people that GET them has helped this Paul. A break from Americans, a chance to assuage his years-long fears that the U.K. survived in an even more mangled state than the U.S.
Bloody hell, I suppose is the thing to say.
On a lighter note, I think the opportunity to use his homeland's surviving Britishisms with people that GET them has helped this Paul. A break from Americans, a chance to assuage his years-long fears that the U.K. survived in an even more mangled state than the U.S.
KharnTheBrotrayer
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I wonder if Paul regaled her with the fact the Queen didn't have a licence because of some quirk of the legal code.
Vaermina
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Yup, and it was high level US only government stuff.
Do the only way she should know about it is of she's connected to the Enclave.
Rebu
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The quirk: licenses are issued in the name of the monarch.
Similarly, Charles doesn't need one, as king.
I do wonder if he had one before, and they just tore it up. Or asked him to return it.
Also, he doesn't need a license plate or passport, for exactly the same reason.
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Mr Zoat
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'Forgave'? No, he was great. It was like having a real-life comedy character as prince-consort!
Neruz
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This is immensely pervasive and wrong fanon, likely because it was on the wiki for a long time before people noticed that there was no actual source for this nonsense.
If you check the wiki page for Computer now, you will note that it no longer makes this claim and now has the properly sourced claim that transistors and microchips were developed and in use in consumer household goods for some time before the Great War.
Furthermore, we know transistors and microchips were developed and in use because EMP disables robots: If Fallout robots were purely vacuum tubes, they would not be affected by EMP.
And finally, since Fallout 4 we know that transistors were invented before 2023, because they are mentioned in a terminal entry that year by Jack Cabot.
tl;dr - no transistors are not super advanced government technology, they're perfectly normal civilian technology, just for whatever reason the people of the Fallout-verse were not interested in investing money and development into miniaturization and as such transistors remained a relatively niche technology outside of robotics.
e: And if you need more, several of the devs have confirmed this, and the wiki page on Transistors has sources for these statements in the Behind the Scenes part. The original idea pitched to Tim Cain during development of Fallout 1 was "the transistor was invented, but microelectronics did not catch on" not "the transistor was not invented."
The Queen isn't asking Paul if he knows about transistors because they're some kind of secret hyper advanced technology, she's asking about them because they're a relatively niche technology that saw fairly little use outside of certain specialized fields, and so she has a reasonable expectation that Paul may not have any real familiarity with them nor any understanding of why they are useful.
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Lord Ernest
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Wait, but don't you need to present your passport when arriving in another country?
I mean, obviously everyone would know if the monarch is coming or going somewhere, besides the obvious detail of being surround by a bunch of British people dedicated to their wellbeing. But do the airports just let the monarch pass through with no check?
Neruz
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A British passport is literally a statement from the government in the monarch's name that the person with this document is who they say they is and are allowed to leave the country.
So the monarch does not need to present a passport because them saying "yo it me" is a passport.
Lord Ernest
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Yeah, but hypothetically speaking the airport security could just say "And why would I believe you?" It's not like everyone, in any airport, could recognize the monarch at a glance and they're not showing any officially recognizable document to confirm their identity, are they?
I know I'm being flippant with it, because with a monarch's entourage and the diplomatic overtures needed for them to travel it would be practically impossible for such a situation to happen; but imagine they travel alone, get to security and when asked for a passport they just say "I'm the british monarch, I don't need nor use a passport". "Yeah, right buddy and I'm the Pope" would be my response. I don't think it weird if security doesn't recognize them and take them to a small room to know what the hell they're smoking or trying to sneak in.
ForeverShogo
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Neruz beat me to the punch, but I'm still going to post about Fallout electronics.
===
In the original Fallout games you can find desktop computers that would be right at home in the 90s. They even had a knockoff of Microsoft and Windows. (Macrosoft and Wyndoze.)
Microchips are a thing. Transistors are also a thing. Fallout 4 and 76 make reference to transistor radios, and there's a terminal entry by Cabot mentioning them.
In 2015 someone who worked on the early Fallout games talked about how their society focused on robotics and atomics while neglecting miniaturization. Not to say miniaturization never happened, just that it wasn't considered a priority in tech development.
An example he gave was that some of the cameras you can buy for like 15 dollars in a Best Buy actually could exist in Pre-War America, but actually doing such a thing would be considered so exotic and extravagant that it would cost you something like 15 million dollars.
Essentially, miniaturization is treated as one of those crazy and unnecessary things that only disgustingly rich people would actually splurge on. The equivalent of doing something like capping all your teeth with diamonds or eating a cake that uses gold leafing as frosting or something.
This same dev said one of the things that bugs him the most is when people act like technology stopped advancing in the 50s. Technology still developed, and the crazy super science is proof of just how advanced Fallout America was. The technology just looks different because their priorities when developing it were different.
People just insist on confusing aesthetic with function.
===
In the original Fallout games you can find desktop computers that would be right at home in the 90s. They even had a knockoff of Microsoft and Windows. (Macrosoft and Wyndoze.)
Microchips are a thing. Transistors are also a thing. Fallout 4 and 76 make reference to transistor radios, and there's a terminal entry by Cabot mentioning them.
In 2015 someone who worked on the early Fallout games talked about how their society focused on robotics and atomics while neglecting miniaturization. Not to say miniaturization never happened, just that it wasn't considered a priority in tech development.
An example he gave was that some of the cameras you can buy for like 15 dollars in a Best Buy actually could exist in Pre-War America, but actually doing such a thing would be considered so exotic and extravagant that it would cost you something like 15 million dollars.
Essentially, miniaturization is treated as one of those crazy and unnecessary things that only disgustingly rich people would actually splurge on. The equivalent of doing something like capping all your teeth with diamonds or eating a cake that uses gold leafing as frosting or something.
This same dev said one of the things that bugs him the most is when people act like technology stopped advancing in the 50s. Technology still developed, and the crazy super science is proof of just how advanced Fallout America was. The technology just looks different because their priorities when developing it were different.
People just insist on confusing aesthetic with function.
Neruz
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I'll be honest, I literally cannot imagine a situation where that would happen without the monarch also traveling under an assumed identity, in which case they would have a passport for the false identity.
If they're traveling as themselves then they are always going to have an entourage.