Steven woke in a cold sweat. It took him a moment to realise the incursion sirens from his dream had followed him to the waking world. He was out of bed throwing on clothing before he’d finished waking. The other side of the bed being empty caused him a moment of panic, before he remembered Paige was with the boys in the city, it was just him and the little terror named Olive.
He smiled a bitter sweet smile as he grabbed his emergency bag and ran for Olive’s room. She’d been a bit of a whoops, coming 10 years after he and Paige had thought they were done having kids, and she was more of a handful at 5 years old than her three older brothers combined, but that might be because the whole family treated her like a princess. Steven wished she’d gone to visit Paige’s parents with her mom and the boys, but she was a daddy’s girl, and had insisted he would need her help here at home.
Putting what if’s aside he opened her bedroom door, Olive stood sleepily by her bed, still in her pj’s one hand clutching the strap of her own Grasshopper themed emergency bag. The Samurai, not the insect, Olive loved Grasshoppers educational media.
“Good job little one, you were almost faster than daddy. Are you awake enough to get down the stairs, or would you like up?”
Olive's only response was to stare groggily up at her father and raise her arms. Steven stepped forward and scooped the tired girl into his arms. He hurried down the stairs to the main floor, down through the basement and into the never before used bunker his mother had installed in the house when he was a child.
He sealed the big metal door behind them, and deposited his sleepy daughter onto the large bed in the corner. Before he could join her for the snuggles her wiggling arms desired, he checked and double checked that everything they would need to hopefully keep them alive was as functional as it could be.
Steven stopped himself from checking a third time, it was only anxiety keeping him going, and even if something was wrong, it was too late to do much now. He crawled in beside his now slumbering daughter and did his best to drift off as well.
***
The clock on the wall said it was past dawn, they had been underground for just over 6 hours, most of which they’d both managed to sleep through. Father and daughter had just finished a breakfast of sugary cereal with shelf stable milk. The sweetness of the cereal had hidden the odd aftertaste from the unspoilable “dairy” product.
Olive was in the small curtained off bathroom, brushing her teeth and changing out of her pj’s.
“Olive sweety, are you ok in there? That’s an awful lot of banging.”
“Yup! I got it! I’m a big girl! I clean my teefs super best!”
Steve had changed out of his own while his daughter hogged the small bathroom, he sat and waited at the small table, looking over the bunkers control tablet. The curtain being abruptly pulled aside had him looking quickly up toward his daughter.
“Olive, what are you wearing? Those are entirely too many socks.” Steven laughed as he looked at his 5 year old. She wore a well loved T-shirt with a cereal mascot raising a spoon emblazoned across it’s front, and a pair of comfy blue sweatpants. The rest of her ensemble however caused Steve to raise his eyebrows. Olive was wearing at least two pairs of socks on her hands, and he could identify at least 5 different bands of colour around her poofy feet.
“I’m Sock Girl! I’m a super hero!” Olive stated proudly, putting hands on her hips and striking a pose.
“Oh is that so? And what powers does Sock Girl have?”
“Sock Powers!” She declared with equal pride. “And dance powers!” She struck another pose.
Steven grinned from ear to ear. Even hiding underground with who knows what crawling above their heads Olive was indomitable. He snapped a photo with his augs and sent it off to the rest of their family.
Paige responded quickly. The incursion wasn’t close to the city, but it might come their way, so the government was moving the elderly and at risk into the shelters just in case. She, the three boys and her parents were already in line. They were all glad that he and Olive were safe, and apparently having fun. They would try to keep in touch as long as they could.
“Mom and the boys are having fun with grandma and grandpa, they think Sock Girl is the best hero ever, but she’s lacking in snuggles!” Steven ran towards Olive, hands out grasping, as he finished speaking, scooping a now giggling toddler into a tickle fight. The Antithesis might be overhead, but he’d be damned if Olive would think this was anything but a special camping adventure for the two of them.
***
The day had been blessedly quiet, no proximity warnings had gone off, but the local incursion warnings were still telling people to stay put and stay safe for now. Steven had allowed himself brief glimpses of the satellite map of the area during the moments Olive was distracted with one activity or another. The Samurai were doing their best, but it was slow going, there weren’t many that stuck around to protect rural areas like this, and outside help was still “on its way”. Much of the countryside was still awash with the red dots of models 1 through 10.
“Finish up your smashed taters Olive honey, then after we wash up, we can have story time before bed.”
Olive was still wearing far too many socks, but had at least bowed to her fathers wisdom and removed the ones from her hands while eating. “A Sock Girl Story!”
“Hmmm, I don’t know any Sock Girl stories, maybe we can make up our own together!”
“Yay! Sock Girl Story!” Olive was halfway off her chair before Steve could remind her she had to finish her potatoes.
Not long after, Steven and Olive were snuggled up cosy in the bunker's big bed.
“So my little pickled princess, where do we find Sock Girl today? Fighting the evils of static cling?”
“Nooo, we have to start at the big inning!”
“Hmmm alright, we’ll start at the start.”
As her father spoke Olive's mind drifted, and the world of Sock Girl shimmered into place in her imagination.
***
It was a warmer than usual August afternoon, August 12 2094 to be exact. A normal day for many, but for budding young hopeful hero’s to be, in western mega city 18, it was a very special day. Today they would get their chance to show off in front of three seasoned heroes, and if they managed to impress them, maybe get recruited to be trained to be heroes themselves.
Three judges sat in folding metal chairs behind a plastic folding table in a dirt floored arena with concrete walls. They weren't wearing their showy super suits, but rather loose fitting coveralls and masks designed to hide their identities. Several years ago the judges had started wearing the incognito uniform, after a few too many disgruntled hopefuls had lashed out at those judges who had rejected them.
The judge closest to the door waved at the staff member to let the next applicant in. “Another year, another long day of duds. If I hear one more comment about who they think they would make a great sidekick for, I might launch them into orbit.”
The middle judge opened their mouth to reply, but stopped as their next potential recruit stepped into the room.
The child looked too small to be of manifestation age, she stood barely past 4 feet tall. She shuffled in, shoulders slouched, her eyes, the only part of her visible, flicked everywhere but at the judges. She was covered from head to toe in an array of fabrics with weaves and patterns of great variety. Upon a closer inspection it became evident to each of the judges that she was covered in layers upon layers of socks.
Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.
***
Olive stopped her father. “What kind of socks Daddy? Does she have Grasshopper socks like me?” She wiggled her fingers from inside her somewhat holey Grasshopper socks.
“I dunno sweety, Grasshopper is a Samurai here in our world, is she a Super hero there too?”
“Of course! She teaches all the young heroes how to best hero!”
“If she’s that amazing, Sock Girl must have several pairs of Grasshopper socks, but she keeps them close, right against her t-shirt, because they are so special. She also has so many other kinds of socks, like…”
***
…Tube socks, ankle socks, boring white socks, everyday black socks, stripe topped sport socks, socks with unicorns, socks with socks sewn on them, every kind of sock imaginable wrapped around her like a cosy mostly cotton cocoon.
“Please step up to the white line in front of us and tell us the hero name you have chosen, and a bit about your power.” The middle judge stated while gesturing at the aforementioned line in front of the table.
The girl covered in socks shuffled over and stood hesitantly, her sock covered hands twisting nervously in front of her. “I, um, my name is, I'm um, Sock Girl. I, um, control socks.”
“You control socks? Can you elaborate for us?” Asked the centre judge, pen poised over paper.
“Um, it's, I, I control socks.” She repeated, a bit quieter this time, shrinking slightly in on herself.
“Perhaps a demonstration might work better.” The judge that had yet to speak said gently. “Send in some opponents please”
A door behind the judges opened, and five staff members wearing protective padding, and wielding padded batons jogged out to stand in a line to the judges right.
“Now, the staff are going to try and tap you with their batons, they are designed not to hurt you even if accidentally swung too hard. Use this time to show us what you can do please.”
With a nod from the judges the 5 staffers stepped forward.
Sock girl stepped to the left. So did the five surprised staffers.
She took a step back, so too did the staffers stumble backwards. One almost falling on their face, as they became unbalanced.
The five staffers paused, glancing at one another, communicating silently. The three in the middle stayed back, the two wings stepping forward.
The girl covered in socks spun herself about and landed with her back to the staffers. The staffers struggled to stay upright as their own feet twisted them about to match her movements, landing them all facing toward the judges and away from the young girl.
Sock girl, and the five, tapped their right foot to the ground, starting up a beat.
One.
Two.
One, two, three, four.
***
Steven and Olive tapped their feet in time as the story continued, giggling all the while.
***
Sock girl struck a pose and proceeded to prance about the room, spinning circles around the five staff in padding. Some of the steps she took, they were forced to mimic, others they were not. Sometimes all together in unison, sometimes in pairs, or alone.
As Sock Girl moved gracefully about the room, the staffers stumbled, tripped, and wobbled about in her wake. They fell down to the ground, and upon each other, only to climb back to their feet and do their best to reach the young girl with their batons. Each of their faces obscured behind their plexi-glass shields twisted through an array of emotions, from outrage to barely holding back laughter.
The largest of the five, their face reddening with rage or perhaps embarrassment after a topsy turvy tumble, decided to finally use their head. He reached down for his shoes, hoping that getting his socks off would free him from his torment.
***
“Nooo! He can’t take his socks off! Then Sock Girl will be powerless against him!” Olive cried in mock horror.
“Have no fear sweet Olive! Sock Girl always has a plan!”
***
He barely had one shoe undone before Sock girl was gliding past him, shaking a sock covered hand as if scolding him.
A mismatched pair of argyle socks, one pink and green, the other orange and violet, slithered out from between layers of her socks, and slipped through the air, right onto his hands, snugging tightly so as not to fall off, and pulled his hands up and away from shoes and laces.
Sock Girls dance resumed, it increased in cadence and gained in complexity. More and more of her absurdly eclectic collection of socks slipped out from her outfit. Baby socks, with cute little bows, thick woollen warm winter socks, and socks with happy frogs on them, flitted effortlessly through the air to cover hands, wrap around limbs, and support necks. In mere minutes where there was once a girl and five assailants, there were now 6 people wrapped in socks, dancing in unison to a song only one of them could hear.
In singles and in pairs they elegantly traipsed from one side of the arena to the other. Graceful ballroom footwork, lifts, and dips, were followed by centuries old moves from the classic age of disco, which flowed seamlessly into moves from the latest pop video sensation, and on and on to other forms, all mixing together into a bizarre, yet captivating performance.
A judge cleared their throat loudly, perhaps not for the first time.
Sock Girl paused, remembering with shock, where she was. The socks wrapped around the staff members went limp and slipped to the ground. All but one of the five staff lost their balance and followed the socks down.
The socks slithered meekly back to the young girl, slipping back into their place. She, the moving mass of cottony comfort, turned toward the judges table, head hanging in embarrassment; she whispered. “I'm Sock girl, I control socks” and slipped from the room as fast as her socks could carry her.
Three judges shared glances, and subtle nods.
Three hands reached for three pairs of stamps, beside three stacks of paper.
Three stamp handles were grasped lightly, and three stamps were lifted.
Three arms stamped firmly down onto three pages topped with the name Sock Girl.
Three stamps were lifted from their pages, revealing the bright blocky letters left behind.
“Approved.”
Three sheets were placed into three folders, and the next applicant was beckoned inside.
***
Steven looked down at his daughter's softly sleeping face, he wondered when she had fallen asleep. He’d gotten so caught up in telling the story of her current favourite hero, he hadn’t even noticed.
He tucked her in gently, and got up to get himself a glass of water before heading back to rest his own head. On the way he stopped to check the map of the incursion. He stared at it for a long moment. He whispered in the dim lights of the bunker. “How did Olive turn the map into a crayon drawing?”
Crawling back into bed, he puzzled to himself about the sticker of a clown riding a bike that had been stuck to the centre of the tablet screen.
***
The smell and sound of sizzling bacon woke Steven from his slumber. Olive was not in bed. Olive was in the kitchen! Where did she get bacon! Steven bolted upright and out of bed for the second time in two days, pushing past the curtain, and nearly ending up wrapped in it, he stumbled into the main bunker to an odd sight.
Olive was walking on the ceiling, holding the hands of a stranger below her, both of them were absolutely covered in socks.
“Daddy!” Olive cried, upside down. “It’s the real Sock Girl! She came to camp with us!”
The stranger responded. “Nah, you’re the real Sock Girl, I’m Cassy the Clown, playing dress up as Sock Girl!”
“The Greatest Super Hero Ever!” The girls shouted in unison.
Steven peaked around the giggling duo into the kitchen, a pair of Argyle socks, with googly eyes fitted firmly to them, were wielding spatula and fork, tossing french toast and bacon onto three plates.
Steven took stock as best he could of the room around him, noting the light by the main door had switched to green for “all clear to exit”. “Well, you may be a super hero Sock Girl, but I’m still your father, so socks off of hands, and get washed up, it seems we will be having breakfast with a Samurai.”
“Clown” Olive replied deadpan, as Cassy lowered her to the ground.
As she headed to the washroom she looked back at her father with a giggle, “Clowns are better than Samurai, any day.”
“But?” Steven started, his grin growing.
“Nobody is better than Sock Girl!” The three finished, almost in unison.
A ping appeared in Steven’s augs, the rest of his family were safe and heading home.
A spatula slipped out from under a piece of french toast, an argyle sock fell backwards into a half full sink of soapy water, an old, only used once, bunker, filled with laughter.