Lordy lordy some late nights lately

So, the thing about trying to wrangle applications is that they're frequently, well, recalcitrant. And they frequently need important, unavoidable things like upgrades... that need to be done outside of business hours. This is true even -- hear me out -- even when when what you're upgrading is actually just a test environment, or one set aside for training people where they can't break your business if they make a mistake. 

You might think that those environments should be available for much more casual upgrades, since they don't affect the actual business that goes on in you production environment, and can be refreshed from Production if anything goes wrong. And in an ideal world, you'd be right about that. In actual practice, well, I had a couple of inconveniently late nights last week while trying to get an incredibly recalcitrant training environment to to fully upgrade so that we can start User Acceptance Testing over there before we just upgrade the production environment and commit our fate to the merciless hands of the Computer Gods. 

This would be a great opportunity for overtime, but here at the new job I'm on salary. Which is fine, and maybe even better, because not only am I getting paid more in general, if I have to (hypothetically) put in four hours on a failed upgrade Thursday Night and another four hours on a partially-successful upgrade Friday night, I can bloody well sleep in on Friday morning and again on, say, the following Monday. I need to inform my co-workers so they know what to expect in terms of when I'm actually conscious, but otherwise nobody cares. (And in fact -- kudos to the new job -- they encourage it.) 

I would love to be responsible for a piece of software that was well-documented, well-maintained, and properly tested for quality. This one is... not that, but that's part of the reason it's worth paying me this much to maintain it. 

On a possibly-related note, I woke up Saturday morning after a dream in which Vincent Price -- that bastard -- was in a wheelchair and trying to break open the bathroom door while I was getting into the shower, so that he could feed me to the marsh people. The marsh people had apparently lived here years ago, and been subject to cruel and horrible experiments; the one I was avoiding introduced itself as having been made from six other marsh people, and looked like a cross between a starfish and a stingray. So if I ever see Vincent Price in a wheelchair again, I'm going to murder him on the spot in self-defense. 

BUT THAT ASIDE, life is pretty good. I keep forgetting that Firstborn is no longer living with us, which is weird but otherwise fine; we've put Secondborn into some math tutoring because apparently middle school has taught him that it's both terrible and useless; the dog has very strong opinions about where we should go when we do walkies; and I'm running three different D&D games which I'm enjoying the hell out of in three different ways. 

If I get my sleep schedule back under control, I'll be unstoppable. 

Here's to you, my friends, being -- or becoming -- unstoppable too.

Stone Walls, Iron Doors, part one

Caracas fell when the guard shoved him over the edge. It was a good distance down, a fall to break bones; no doubt most prisoners made the descent with the help of a ladder, or at least a rope. These guards were looking to punish him well beyond the sentence he'd been given, and no wonder. He'd broken three of them, and they wanted to see him broken in turn. 

But the floor, when he landed, was stone; and stone would never harm him. His feet touched it and he rolled to the side, fetched up gently against the wall, and lay there. The chamber around him was shaped roughly like a vase, wider here at the bottom but narrowing as it curved up to the hole he'd been cast in through.

Two of the guards laughed when he didn't move, and Caracas marked their voices, matching them in his mind with their scents, the feel of their steps on the stone of the courtyard, the warmth of their bodies and minds. Down here in the dark, they couldn't see that he was looking back at them. After a minute or so, they swung the heavy iron gate shut over the entrance and slid the lock into place. 

When they finally moved away, Caracas considered his new environment. The walls were smooth, offering no grips for climbing, the entrance too high up for an ordinary man to reach. A shapechanger might manage it, but iron was widely known to imprison all manner of supernatural beings: beasts and spirits and sorcerers alike. 

So this is the Archon's justice. The judge, mistaking Caracas' reticent curiosity for weakness or at least humility, had declared himself merciful in sentencing the ignorant foreigner to be forgotten for a year and a day for his assault upon the guards, conveniently ignoring the fact that Caracas had been defending himself from them and not the other way around. It had been smoothly managed, too: Caracas had spoken his initial defense to the court, and then the guards had spun their story of his attack on them, and after that everyone had spoken of it as if he had attacked the guards.

After that he had held his tongue. There was little point in arguing with it, and even less in pointing out that he'd acted to prevent a rape and had had no idea that the perpetrators were members of the guard. More importantly, he didn't want to draw the attention of his cousin Jakar in his own demesne; he wasn't prepared to take on the gods. 

So: a year and a day in this oubliette, which was one of several along this side of the courtyard: close enough to daily life to hear it, but still easy to ignore even if he begged or screamed, and fully exposed if he somehow tried to escape through the grate. A land of laws, a domain of justice and mercy, would see him regularly fed and watered, even as it forgot him. Jakar's Imperium? He'd give it a week or so, just to see.

Caracas settled back comfortably against the stone.

Decisions, part seven

Antoinette opened the door and Chris went out, Elyssa following with the doll-child. He felt off-balance, distracted, out of control; he didn't like it. He wanted to grab the doll and race it to the rendezvous, to get this over with as quickly as possible, but he couldn't do that without revealing his full speed -- and Elyssa was making a real effort to cover for him. He wanted to tear apart their enemies, but their enemies were actually their co-workers; this was just a training exercise. 

He was trying to hold to that knowledge, but the image of a child tied to a chair... 

He shook his head, forced himself to focus, and wasn't sure if he'd succeeded. Thorin was nowhere in sight, which was simultaneously the worst possible scenario and exactly what he'd expected. "That way," said Antoinette, pointing. 

Elyssa started out, and Chris leapt up to an awning, and then across to a window sill on the far side of the street. If Thorin was tracking them, he'd take to the rooftops; Chris would have to make his way there more slowly. More likely, the great cat was off alerting the other two opposition teams, but it still wouldn't hurt to have eyes up at rooftop level. 

Half a block down, the rooftop was empty. Thorin was nowhere to be seen. So it's a question of who gets into position first. If Thorin and the others could set up an ambush, they could still lure the target in using the doll-child. If Antoinette and Elyssa got the child to the head of the house first, the House could withdraw and they would have effectively won. If everybody reached the rendezvous all at once, it would be a fight and the outcome could be anything. 

Chris shaped a tiny bit of Grey and whispered to Antoinette and Elyssa: "Move."

Decisions, part six

 They didn't just drive in here anyway, even knowing it was a trap. Surely they didn't... He could see it though: whoever had planned out this exercise understood the arrogance of the Old Houses. The head of the house wouldn't leave without the child; but at least they'd agreed to wait and let his team bring the "child" to them. 

Would the two other enemy teams realize? Would Thorin tell them? Probably. He's impressed with himself, but not enough to try to take on all three of us alone, and his magus is down. 

How fast could he get to them? "Give me the child," said Elyssa. "I'll carry her." She looked at Chris. "You run interference, but be careful." She turned her eyes to Antoinette. "Do you have enough Grey left to keep up with us?"

Antoinette said, "I'll do what I can." 

"All right," said Elyssa, and they started down the stairs.

Monday, again?

Seriously, why do Mondays keep happening to me?

Though honestly, now that I'm settling in at the new job I dread The Coming Of Monday a lot less than I have in years; I should have changed jobs years ago, probably right around the time that they tripled my responsibilities but left me at the same job title and paycheck. 

Fridays are usually relatively quiet, and I spent a chunk of last Friday going through old service desk tickets from people who are no longer here, then emailing people to find out what the current status on the issue happened to be. I was able to close some of them; the others got added to my To Do list, along with whatever supplemental information I'd been given about them. Top of the list for this morning is a support call to figure out why the command to refresh the information in the Training environment from the Production environment doesn't seem to be working. 

I had a nice, quiet weekend, which was good because last week was -- despite my best efforts -- somewhat fraught. I keep hoping that things will settle out into some kind of regular pattern, and things keep stubbornly resisting me on this. I've also started a new book, which I'm enjoying; I might add a review of it once I get a little further along. 

Ah, well. Onwards and upwards! Here's hoping, as always, for things to get better.

Passage of Faith, part two

Redrick huddled behind the locked door of his cabin and knelt to pray. "Beloved Xandria," he began. "I have done as you willed, and taken the amulet. It was my intent to keep it secret, but with everyone on the ship in danger I chose to place my trust in them instead. Please watch over the crew and the other passengers; the crew is trying to help, and the danger to my fellow-travelers is unjust. Please pay particular mind to the Aarakocra who claims to have taken me under his wing; I do not know whether you placed him here to be a guardian for me or whether the fates jest at my expense, but despite his manners he has more than proven his value."

There was a faint stirring in the back of his mind, and then a momentary image of a robed, winged figure with a palimpset and a pen: the celestial Ernost, Balancer of the Scales. "Ah, Redrick Gleamalong. I hadn't scheduled... well, here you are, so I suppose it was arranged for us." They glanced at the palimset, frowned, and continued: "I will do what I can on your behalf, for you serve honorably and well."

Redrick swallowed. He hadn't expected anything more than a very general message; a chance to ask questions was not to be wasted. "Will we be attacked again, Holy Balancer?"

Ernost nodded. "Yes. A rat may be devoured by a serpent, but it may also create openings for them to use. Until you are rid of this vermin, you will continue to be attacked... and after, if they find you again."

"Can I trust the crew of this ship?"

"They have no part in this yet, and no love for your enemies. You have done well with them."

"If I may... what exactly is this amulet?" 

Ernost hesitated. "This must be your final question, for I cannot answer it. It is a tool of the enemy, more of a danger than it seems, and a warning of greater dangers yet. More than this, I may not say and have not been told."

Redrick swallowed. "I see. I am grateful for the answers you have given, and will continue to undertake the charge that I was given."

"The charge given to you is a burden and a curse, and you are blessed for having undertaken it. Once the amulet reaches the Archive, more may be revealed." They began to fade.

"I will see it done," said Redrick, and opened his eyes to find that he was talking to himself.

Another One Gone

My mom's older sister has died. I'll be attending the funeral, which is going to make for a very long day since it's up in Oklahoma and I'd rather not stay the night unless I have to.

I don't know exactly what to say about this, because I didn't know her all that well; we mostly saw her on holidays. Still, I'm going to show up, in part because I don't think my own mother would ever have forgiven me if I didn't and in part because I haven't seen that side of the family in quite some time -- and I may not have that many more chances. 

She was very sweet, a dancer, and devoted to her family and her sisters. I once made a mixed tape for her to use for her dance lessons; it probably wasn't much help, since I was in my teens and most of what I had on tap was metal rather than dance music. And for all that I failed to keep in touch, she will assuredly be missed.

The rest of the world doesn't stop for anyone's death, of course; I'm fortunate that, at least for a single day, I can.

Decisions, part five

The impact was no more than he'd expected; the wards here were for warning, not protection, and he didn't intend to give them time for their warning to make a difference. The room he crashed into was barren, furnished only with a table, a few chairs, and a battered couch; he caught up one of the chairs and flung it at Sherri, who was sitting on her couch and looking at her phone. 

The chair smashed into an unseen protection, and fell to the floor; Sherri immediately rose to her feet, then glanced at her phone in confusion. To his right, the Thorin Tanelorn of the great cats was standing beside a chair with a hostage in it. 

The hostage was supposed to be a doll! It was a doll -- it had no scent -- but the magi had put a seeming on it for this exercise, and it looked like a human child bound to the chair. For a moment he was back at Pettibone, seeing another face in another chair, and he hesitated for the barest moment as Thorin dodged around the hostage and charged him, impossibly fast over this short distance. 

He felt the impact before he could refocus, before he could bring his arms up or get his body moving again, and caught Thorin's wrist for a brief moment, pulling the cat back and to the floor alongside him. Thorin broke the hold immediately, caught him under the shoulders, and hurled them both back out the shattered window just as Antoinette shimmered into place in the room and Elyssa smashed in through the no-longer-warded door. 

Thorin released him as soon as they were past the window, and they both began to fall; Chris landed hard, and Thorin landed softly and silently on his feet, still human-formed and completely unmussed.

"Sorry," said Thorin, "but that's how it goes." 

Chris shot a hand out, caught the cat by his ankle, and yanked him down. He came to his feet, dragging Thorin up after him, and flung him into a building. He was overreacting, he knew it, and showing too much of his strength. The trouble was that he couldn't stop it. Some part him was still seeing a frightened child tied to a chair, again, and that part had taken control of his actions. He sprang up, caught a ledge around the building, sank his claws in, and launched himself further. There was a lintel above the next row of windows, and he caught himself on it and pushed himself further up. 

He was just below the upper row of windows when Thorin caught his ankle and nearly pulled him off the side of the building; if Chris hadn't been sinking his claws into the stone, the cat would have succeeded. Instead, Chris thrashed and kicked down, raking claws across the cat's face and then his arm; Thorin dropped like a rock, landed easily on his feet, and started straight up the side of the building again. 

By then, though, Chris had found the broken window and rolled inside it, ignoring the broken glass on the floor. Thorin didn't follow him; the cat leapt past the window and up to the roof. 

Sherri was on the ground, thrashing around but otherwise immobile; Antoinette was speaking into her cell phone. "We've got the kid. Pull back. You don't need to make this meet, we'll bring her to you."

Elyssa asked, "Chris? Are you okay?"

"With this?" he gestured towards the doll that had been tied to the chair and was now held firmly in Elyssa's arms. "No. Not at all. I was about to--" He made himself stop. 

"Chris," said Elyssa firmly. "Take a deep breath." 

He took a deep breath. 

"Say it with me: it's just an exercise."

"It's just an exercise." He wasn't sure he believed it, but he was calming back down, starting to refocus. "It's just an exercise."

"It's just an exercise," Elyssa repeated.

Antoinette put her phone away. "We're going to take the kid out to her House," she said quietly. "What are we looking at?"

Chris shrugged. "The cat is still active, and there are two other magi and two other outsiders he might call in. We go now, quickly, and hope to be gone before he returns with help."