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Title:The Beginning
Characters:Riley Poole, Ben Gates, Ian Howe
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: These Characters aren't mine, (they belong to Disney) I'm just borrowing them for my own entertainment.
Riley liked to say, “I work for the government.”
The way he said it made him sound almost dangerous. He also liked to say, “I work for the Smithsonian,” because it made him sound intelligent. Not that Riley Poole wasn’t both dangerous and intelligent . . . in his own way.
Riley was dangerous because he could have your entire life on his computer screen in 30 seconds. He was intelligent because, well, he really was a genuinely smart guy. He knew computers, cameras, natural science, and the occasional bit of useless trivia. Riley worked at the Smithsonian’s National Air and Space Museum in Washington, D.C., but the only thing Riley truly enjoyed about the job was that when he told people he worked for the Smithsonian, they thought it sounded interesting, exciting, and far more stimulating than their office cubicle jobs. Riley usually omitted the fact that he worked in a windowless cubicle as well.
His job didn’t include interviewing astronauts, tracking down pieces of WWII planes, or handling letters from long dead presidents. Riley sat at a computer and updated files on the museum’s exhibits. Each day Riley entered insurance information, security codes and systems, and other various technical information he didn’t think anyone would ever really need.
He also did tech work on the side. If someone’s home computer crashed, they’d call Riley because they knew someone that knew someone that he’d fixed a computer for. But when things really got too boring, he would always fall back on his favorite past-time, hacking.
Whenever Riley needed a bit of excitement, he’d hack; which, (conveniently) is where Benjamin Gates found Riley that Wednesday afternoon.
* * * * *
Riley sat at his desk in his gray walled cubicle, fingers poised over the keyboard. He was nervous, hot and sweaty. Just one more key stroke and -
"YES!"
Riley jumped up, so relieved, so excited, . . . so getting fired if he was caught.
He glanced around at the curious inhabitants of neighboring cubicles. "Umm, I, uh . . . killed a virus." Riley cocked his head and painfully smiled. His closest cubicle neighbor, a fat, balding man named "Stephen, NOT Steven," (as he reminded everyone several times a day) looked down his small round glasses at Riley. After a few moments, feeling a drastic move was needed, Riley sat down and said, "Sorry to bother you...Steeve-o." While Stephen's face flushed, becoming a splotchy indignant rouge, Riley began humming the tune to Wonderwall, leaving Stephen nothing else to do but sit down as well and write in his blog about the annoying guy one cubicle over.
“Nice.” Riley looked up and adjusted his black rimmed glasses, focusing on a lean figure with a guarded look in his eyes. “Hey Riley, it’s me, Benjamin, . . . Benjamin Gates.” As if Riley needed help remembering Ben Gates, the only man Riley had met in a long time who he’d instantly knew was far more intelligent than himself. Riley had helped Ben modify a new program to simulate a ship’s course over decades of time. Riley had found the project intriguing and had spoken for a long time with Ben about their interests. Riley discovered Ben had an adventurous past. He’d even been in the Navy. Ben was smart, kind, and a bit eccentric. Besides that, he had a passion for something. Riley didn’t know what it was that gave Ben the fire he had, but he wanted to find out.
“Heyyy, Ben,” Riley said in his drawn out, what-are-you-doing-here kind of way, swiveling his chair over to face his visitor.
Ben just gave Riley an excited smile and asked, “do you have time for lunch? I’d like you to meet someone.”
Riley and Ben walked to the nearest metro station and took the train across town to a small café. Ben led Riley to a table where a blonde man in a black coat was tenatively sipping coffee from a white, stained mug. Black gloves were carefully laid out on the smooth, worn, green and white formica table top (circa 1964 Riley guesstimated).
Ben motioned for Riley to take a seat, nodding at the man across from him. “This is Ian Howe.” Ian looked Riley over and turned to Ben, obviously displeased. He looked very uncomfortable and out of place in this mom and pop café, and he apparently wanted to get back to his BMW and mocha latte...very quickly.
Ian raised his eyebrow at Ben. “This is your genius?” Ben draped his arm around Riley’s shoulders and motioned excitedly.
“I’m telling you, this is the guy we need. He knows science, he knows computers, he knows calculations, he can help us.” Riley had the distinct feeling that he was an object being discussed which had no voice in the conversation, and he still knew nothing about why he was sitting with a man who unquestionably didn’t think him fit for whatever it was he needed.
Ian looked Riley over again and cast a look of serious doubt at Ben. “I really think you should leave these decisions up to me, Benjamin. I can find the best in the field.” Ben, standing behind Riley, moved protectively close to him, gripping both of Riley's shoulders.
“Ian, I mean it. I wouldn’t bring him into this if I wasn’t positive we needed him.” Ben searched Ian’s face. Not finding the guarantee he needed, Ben threw out the bait he’d already hooked in his mind. “Riley works with the national archives and could probably be of great use in many ways whether it’s on the Charlotte or not.” Ian thought for a moment and then stood.
“Fine Ben, if you are absolutely certain that it is necessary. I’d like a definite co-ordinance by the end of the month. I’ll check in with you Monday.” Ian looked Riley over again. It was as if Riley had the same taste and effect as the black coffee Ian had been nursing. “Welcome to the team.” Ian slid his hands in0 his black gloves and tossed a few bills on the table, leaving Ben to deal with bringing his new recruit up to speed. “This better be the right man,” Ian mumbled as the bell above the door jingled.
Characters:Riley Poole, Ben Gates, Ian Howe
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: These Characters aren't mine, (they belong to Disney) I'm just borrowing them for my own entertainment.
Riley liked to say, “I work for the government.”
The way he said it made him sound almost dangerous. He also liked to say, “I work for the Smithsonian,” because it made him sound intelligent. Not that Riley Poole wasn’t both dangerous and intelligent . . . in his own way.
Riley was dangerous because he could have your entire life on his computer screen in 30 seconds. He was intelligent because, well, he really was a genuinely smart guy. He knew computers, cameras, natural science, and the occasional bit of useless trivia. Riley worked at the Smithsonian’s National Air and Space Museum in Washington, D.C., but the only thing Riley truly enjoyed about the job was that when he told people he worked for the Smithsonian, they thought it sounded interesting, exciting, and far more stimulating than their office cubicle jobs. Riley usually omitted the fact that he worked in a windowless cubicle as well.
His job didn’t include interviewing astronauts, tracking down pieces of WWII planes, or handling letters from long dead presidents. Riley sat at a computer and updated files on the museum’s exhibits. Each day Riley entered insurance information, security codes and systems, and other various technical information he didn’t think anyone would ever really need.
He also did tech work on the side. If someone’s home computer crashed, they’d call Riley because they knew someone that knew someone that he’d fixed a computer for. But when things really got too boring, he would always fall back on his favorite past-time, hacking.
Whenever Riley needed a bit of excitement, he’d hack; which, (conveniently) is where Benjamin Gates found Riley that Wednesday afternoon.
* * * * *
Riley sat at his desk in his gray walled cubicle, fingers poised over the keyboard. He was nervous, hot and sweaty. Just one more key stroke and -
"YES!"
Riley jumped up, so relieved, so excited, . . . so getting fired if he was caught.
He glanced around at the curious inhabitants of neighboring cubicles. "Umm, I, uh . . . killed a virus." Riley cocked his head and painfully smiled. His closest cubicle neighbor, a fat, balding man named "Stephen, NOT Steven," (as he reminded everyone several times a day) looked down his small round glasses at Riley. After a few moments, feeling a drastic move was needed, Riley sat down and said, "Sorry to bother you...Steeve-o." While Stephen's face flushed, becoming a splotchy indignant rouge, Riley began humming the tune to Wonderwall, leaving Stephen nothing else to do but sit down as well and write in his blog about the annoying guy one cubicle over.
“Nice.” Riley looked up and adjusted his black rimmed glasses, focusing on a lean figure with a guarded look in his eyes. “Hey Riley, it’s me, Benjamin, . . . Benjamin Gates.” As if Riley needed help remembering Ben Gates, the only man Riley had met in a long time who he’d instantly knew was far more intelligent than himself. Riley had helped Ben modify a new program to simulate a ship’s course over decades of time. Riley had found the project intriguing and had spoken for a long time with Ben about their interests. Riley discovered Ben had an adventurous past. He’d even been in the Navy. Ben was smart, kind, and a bit eccentric. Besides that, he had a passion for something. Riley didn’t know what it was that gave Ben the fire he had, but he wanted to find out.
“Heyyy, Ben,” Riley said in his drawn out, what-are-you-doing-here kind of way, swiveling his chair over to face his visitor.
Ben just gave Riley an excited smile and asked, “do you have time for lunch? I’d like you to meet someone.”
Riley and Ben walked to the nearest metro station and took the train across town to a small café. Ben led Riley to a table where a blonde man in a black coat was tenatively sipping coffee from a white, stained mug. Black gloves were carefully laid out on the smooth, worn, green and white formica table top (circa 1964 Riley guesstimated).
Ben motioned for Riley to take a seat, nodding at the man across from him. “This is Ian Howe.” Ian looked Riley over and turned to Ben, obviously displeased. He looked very uncomfortable and out of place in this mom and pop café, and he apparently wanted to get back to his BMW and mocha latte...very quickly.
Ian raised his eyebrow at Ben. “This is your genius?” Ben draped his arm around Riley’s shoulders and motioned excitedly.
“I’m telling you, this is the guy we need. He knows science, he knows computers, he knows calculations, he can help us.” Riley had the distinct feeling that he was an object being discussed which had no voice in the conversation, and he still knew nothing about why he was sitting with a man who unquestionably didn’t think him fit for whatever it was he needed.
Ian looked Riley over again and cast a look of serious doubt at Ben. “I really think you should leave these decisions up to me, Benjamin. I can find the best in the field.” Ben, standing behind Riley, moved protectively close to him, gripping both of Riley's shoulders.
“Ian, I mean it. I wouldn’t bring him into this if I wasn’t positive we needed him.” Ben searched Ian’s face. Not finding the guarantee he needed, Ben threw out the bait he’d already hooked in his mind. “Riley works with the national archives and could probably be of great use in many ways whether it’s on the Charlotte or not.” Ian thought for a moment and then stood.
“Fine Ben, if you are absolutely certain that it is necessary. I’d like a definite co-ordinance by the end of the month. I’ll check in with you Monday.” Ian looked Riley over again. It was as if Riley had the same taste and effect as the black coffee Ian had been nursing. “Welcome to the team.” Ian slid his hands in0 his black gloves and tossed a few bills on the table, leaving Ben to deal with bringing his new recruit up to speed. “This better be the right man,” Ian mumbled as the bell above the door jingled.
no subject
Date: 2005-07-04 05:20 pm (UTC)that`s pretty cool. Sums up the bit before the actual story begins. Really cool.
Was Riley really working for the Smithsonian?!? Didn`t know that bit.
no subject
Date: 2005-07-05 06:12 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-07-05 01:54 pm (UTC)I hadn`t really thought about that. nice...