Season 1, Episode 5 - The Boxtops XXXIV - "Isaac vs Mackenzie"
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“You gotta check this out,” Dan Turner explained. He knelt in front of the VHS player in his apartment, somewhere in northeast Elizabeth Pond - no, the Pond, that’s what the locals called it, and Isaac increasingly considered himself a local. “It’s going to be life-changing.”
Isaac saw brown-colored leaves falling outside Dan’s window. He then looked at Dan and wondered why he brought Isaac over to his place. The semester had lasted for a few weeks now - Dan, speaking in that slightly sarcastic, always amused tone of his, had been working with Isaac on a physics project, then invited him over after school.
When Isaac tried to get to know Dan a little better, he said he was from Connecticut, and that was that. That’s all that needed to be said. Connecticut was home to the worst fighting in the First American War. Isaac’s own father died there. He didn’t want to press Dan about it.
Dan himself seemed to display no signs of distress about his upbringing in a place devastated by warfare. Instead, he just slid the VHS cover back to Isaac so he could get a better look at it.
Isaac eyed the cover. It had some sort of cartoon drawing on it, depicting a suave looking spaceman with a pistol in his hands. His eyes seemed just a little too big compared to the cartoons Isaac saw in movie theater reels before the main picture started.
Isaac rubbed his head as he read the words on the cover. “What the hell is a Japanimation?”
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Through the windows of the Tertiary Building of the Academy, Isaac could see the winter snow drifting to the ground. A cold spell had hit Narragansett, and Isaac felt sorry for all those poor souls in Fore River, the site of a recent blackout (and unfortunately, it was an unexpected one, not one of the many rolling blackouts that struck other parts of the city).
Fortunately, Elizabeth Pond had a special deal for energy from the Presidential Administration; Isaac wouldn’t have enjoyed blackouts. He had television to watch, he had streetlights to run under. Streetlights! Those things turned on by themselves, not needing a worker to light the lamp as in Patuxet. Seeing the gaslamps in the back-alleys behind the Cabot Shopping Center while hunting for a good ramen diner with Audrey briefly reminded him of home, but even those gaslamps could turn on by themselves.
Home. What an odd word. For all the wisdom crammed into that fun-loving head of hers, Audrey seemed to struggle about what “home” actually meant when Isaac asked her. Isaac was finding himself seeing a new definition of it. Home was where he spent his days with his mother, training with his brother, the laps around town.
But maybe this could be home too. The people were nice, the city was great, the faster-paced lifestyle so interesting. Maybe this was how his brother felt, coming home from his first semester away at school. Wiser, yet wearier. Wiser, because moving to a new environment forces the brain to work overtime - when the views around you shift, you can no longer take the usual world for granted.
Wearier, because try as he might, he still couldn't use the Rddhi. He and his brother had a reality to overthrow, after all, yet Isaac was severely lacking in his department of the project. And worse still, he found the mathematics of the Support Department beyond his understanding, despite his best efforts.
That left janitorial duty. But it was still a duty, a way to make himself useful to the Academy.
Isaac caught himself. There’s a subtle difference. I don’t want to be useful to them, I want them to find me useful.
Isaac resumed mopping the hallway with a renewed vigor, imaging the red sparks of Rddhi firing out of his fingertips, making the mop explode or something just as cool.
How can I change the world if I can’t even make a mop explode?
Isaac then heard footsteps. He looked back and saw one of the school’s history teachers, Mr. Shokahu, walking by.
Mr. Shokahu looked at Isaac, looked at the broom, then back at Isaac, his face calm and mellow the whole time.
“Keep it up,” he encouraged in that neutral tone of his, then carried on.
It was a simple thing - just five seconds of interaction. But hearing that was enough to get Isaac to finish the whole floor in record time.
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Birds chirped across the Pond, signifying the onset of spring. The technical date for the start of spring was March 21, but the real date is that first time it’s over fifty degrees and stays that way. Coming out of winter, fifty degrees is t-shirt weather, hang around outside more than inside kind of weather. In Japan, you get cherry blossoms; in Narragansett, you get the first green leaves appearing on the trees that line the sidewalks.
The second semester also carried with it great news - Audrey had successfully transferred into the Academy. She made a great big deal about being able to walk both to and from school with Isaac; she would have to stay late for remedial classes, and Isaac, school janitor extraordinaire, would be working until the same time.
Except for today. Assigned to provide extra manpower for janitoring at the Voc, Isaac left school right as the bell rang. Since spring was in the air, he decided to take the scenic route, heading through back-alleys and suburban style homes in the southern half of the district.
And out here, seeing laundry lines hanging above him, white clouds in the sky, he happened upon a somewhat familiar girl.
Reed whistled a merry tune, her hand moving up and down, painting a picket fence that ran between the Elizabeth Pond Public Library and other apartment buildings. She moved the brush daintily, as if painting something out of the Renaissance. Each brush stroke was a small masterpiece.
And she wasn’t talking. A few weeks ago, Reed came by to Audrey’s claiming to need help with her geometry homework. One visit later, Audrey’s cabinets were emptied of their food, and she and Isaac had a new companion with them on the morning walk to school.
Reed always had something to say. She wasn’t particularly endearing to Isaac, but Audrey kept her around, always happy to add another car to her friendship train.
But the whole time Isaac walked by, watching her paint, Reed hadn’t said a word. So engrossed in her fence, she hadn’t even noticed him.
Isaac found himself stopping, wanting a closer look at the scene in front of him.
Reed then noticed him. She tilted her head back, as if unable to step away from her work. “Ah, how’s it going…buddy?”
Isaac frowned, because that’s exactly what he would say when he didn’t remember someone’s name.
And to think I remember both of hers!
“Hey, Reed,” Isaac greeted, surliness rising in his voice.
Reed must’ve realized he was walking in the direction of the Voc. “Mopping duty?”
“Always,” Isaac said. He eyed the fence. “Painting duty?”
“Of course,” she answered. “And you know what? It ain’t all that bad, buddy. Just gotta move this brush up and down. It’s a bit like your mopping, even. Of course…you’re just pushing water around. Painting a fence requires intelligence. Precise strokes and all that.”
Isaac stepped next to her, taking a better look at the fence. “It can’t be that hard.”
Reed smirked. “You’d be surprised. I’ve painted countless fences. It requires finesse.”
Isaac frowned. “I have plenty of finesse.” He held his hand out. “Let me see that. I can show you how it’s done.”
Reed shrugged. “I don’t know. I don’t want you messing up the paint job.”
“I can paint a fence just as good as you can.”
After taking a moment to look at the brush, then at the fence, Reed dramatically extended her hand, giving him the brush. She stepped aside, giving Isaac access to the white paint can on the ground.
Isaac grinned, ready to show this freeloading moocher just how much skill he had.
While Isaac went to work, Reed yawned and took a seat on the ground. “It’s a swell world, ain’t it?”
With graceful strokes, Isaac painted the fence. “You know it,” he answered.
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A swell world. Because that’s really what it was, wasn’t it? As the months went by, as Isaac remained in the city, away from his brother, away from Patuxet, he found himself falling more and more into this line of thinking.
But this was how he felt all along, wasn’t it? It was his mother’s death that put him into that funk, into that let’s destroy the world phase, but things change over time. His mother said to let go, after all. Isaac could let go because he could walk to school with Audrey, he could bicker with Reed, he could throw the football around with Dan.
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His outline continued to shift, as outlines always will. While he still wasn’t a huge fan of math or science, the creative writing classes the Academy offered (Isaac couldn’t have even imagined a class like that existed back when he attended the one-room Patuxet schoolhouse) thrilled him. His outline moved in that direction - the journals, his growing knowledge of popular culture. Wasn’t always the best outline, but it was an outline that connected him with his growing set of friends.
The drive was still there. He wanted to improve, so he kept in shape, kept working on improving himself. But the desire to destroy the world shifted. The world was a great place. It was the people themselves that were responsible for what went wrong inside of it.
And when people are responsible, the goalposts shift. How could Isaac ever want to harm Audrey? Mr. Shokahu? Or even Reed, the feeling of throttling her once he realized she exploited him for free fence-painting labor not counting? They were his friends, they were his people - New England and the New Englanders. It was his country and countrymen.
Maybe the ever present propaganda that came from living in the capital also had something to do with that change in drive.
But whatever the case, Isaac no longer had a desire to destroy the world. The world was fine. It was the people. Certain people should be protected - his people. Other people would need to be destroyed to save them - if New York was destroyed, and its people taught and administered along New England lines, then that’s where peace came in. Same thing for every other country in the former United States, if not the rest of the planet.
It’s a complicated thing, the mind of an adolescent. But thanks to moving out of his old environment - Patuxet - into the new one - Narragansett - that Isaac made some grand realizations about the world. He still supported his brother, but that whole “just us and us alone thing” didn’t hold up to the new reality Isaac found himself in. He loved his lifestyle, he loved friends, he loved his city, he loved his people, he loved his country. He and his brother's plot was just a momentary breach of faith, and Isaac thought less and less of it as time went on.
It would take until he moved into a new environment - the world of the Rddhi and the subsequent missions involved with it - for Isaac to make some further grand realizations in the new reality he found himself waking up to.
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Waking up?
Why does that sound important right now?
Wait…why am I having a sudden flood of memories about the past?
Is it because…I’m asleep?
But why am I asleep?
The answer was obvious.
Because I was put to sleep!
“Like hell I’d just go to sleep!” Isaac roared, opening his eyes. All at once, everything flooded in - the sight of the autumn forest around him, Mackenzie standing above him, her eyes wide in shock, the nearby trace of the Team Blue Rddhi flag.
Isaac wasn’t sure how much time had passed, but that wasn’t important. He wasn’t out of commission, in Ms. Mogami’s medical tent, so he still must be in the game. That meant he a had a job to do.
Before Mackenzie could even blink, Isaac’s fist slammed into her jaw with enough force to send her into the air. A line of Rddhi shot out of Isaac’s hand, coalescing into a clone right above her at the peak of her arc. The clone smashed another fist into her face, sending her right back into the dirt, cracks in the ground appearing around her point of impact.
While his clone landed and started wailing on her, Isaac looked at his arms in surprise. Rddhi ran down both arms, golden currents flaring in each of them.
Class 2, Isaac realized with a grin. I’m a Class 2 now.
He could immediately feel the difference. Each breath he took felt more pure, as if each exhale removed the impurities within himself. The world seemed to move slower around him, or perhaps he could just process things faster. Everything had more shine and luster to it - birds flying overhead, insects resting on tree branches, the way it all came together.
And, of course, the power. When Mackenzie disintegrated the clone off of her using her radar sphere, Isaac jumped towards her, intent on driving her further into the ground. Mackenzie rolled out of the way just in time; Isaac’s punch struck the earth with enough force to make the ground shake, bits of earth flying into the air.
Mackenzie hurried to her feet and released another sphere around her. Isaac tried to punch his way through it, but he only succeeded in keeping the sphere from blowing him away.
That’s right. Even though I’m a Class 2, she’s still a Class 3. I can’t just brute force my way through this.
The answer presented itself immediately. When the sphere subsided, Isaac sent in a clone after her. Mackenzie had maneuvered herself far enough away to give herself space until the cooldown period ended - her next sphere emerged right before the clone could hit her. The clone remained in place, though, shielding itself with two powerful arms.
And so did the clones Isaac created right in front of him. Three of them, all using their fists to block the waves, creating an opening for Isaac to the smart move - grab the flag! His clones could block Mackenzie’s sphere while Isaac himself sprinted off with his prize.
And, now having two completely-powered fists, Isaac could take on anyone who crossed him.
The clones doing their jobs, Isaac turned around to grab the flag, only for his eyes to widen.
Instead of him moving to the flag, the flag moved to him. Ripped off of the pole, it smacked Isaac across the face, then remained there. You figure a flag wouldn’t be that hard to deal with, but it wrapped itself around his face in a way only plastic bags and newspapers carried by a strong gust of wind can. By the time Isaac removed it from his face – less than a second, of course – he was in his second surprise over the day.
While Isaac struggled with the flag, Mackenzie bypassed the clone closest to her and approached the other three clones. Before they could charge, Mackenzie kept them suppressed with another spherical blast, moving around them while the blast kept them at bay.
“You didn’t think I revealed everything to you, did I?” Mackenzie asked, blood trailing from her eyes and nose from the exertion. “I can move around when I’m sending off waves. And waves bounce back, Isaac. That’s the whole point of radar. They bring back information with them. And in this case, information in the form of a flag.”
Isaac gripped the flag tightly in his hand. “But my clones should’ve blocked the paths of your waves. How’d you get the flag, which was behind us, to hit me?”
That answer also presented itself immediately. When the sphere subsided, the three clones advanced on Mackenzie. She stood her ground, though only in a metaphoric sense; she jumped straight into the air, higher than Isaac expected - he knew he shouldn’t have discounted the rumors that Mackenzie was an elite high jumper on the Pennacook Middle School track team.
Just as the clones reached her, Mackenzie leaned over and sent out another sphere. Since it was emitted in mid-air, above the clones, it simply sailed over their heads. And since she leaned over, the sphere was directed at a downwards angle - right over the clones, right at Isaac.
Isaac raised a fist to defend himself, knowing he only needed to protect himself under the cooldown ended - except this time, it didn’t end. The waves kept coming and coming, breaking Isaac’s defenses.
Mackenzie landed back on the ground, still emitting powerful waves. The three clones disintegrated, and Isaac felt the waves slipping past his fist, hitting his hippopotamus or whatever the sleep-control area was.
When the waves subsided, Isaac fell to a single knee.
Mackenzie collapsed face-down on the ground. She managed to raise her head.
“You didn’t think I always needed a cooldown, did you? I didn’t need one at the start of the match, remember? The cooldown is only there to protect myself.”
Isaac’s vision was blurry, but he realized hers must’ve been worse - her eyes were a dark red, blood vessels bursting inside them.
As Isaac rose to his feet, Mackenzie rose to her knees. Isaac sent out a Rddhi line right as Mackenzie sent out another sphere, smacking the line away. Isaac blocked it with his fist, but he suddenly stumbled.
Shoot, this is just like when I unlocked my powers for the first time! I feel like I’m going to pass out!
Isaac ignored the growing urge to collapse and shambled forward. Mackenzie stood and sent another sphere - Isaac blocked most of it with his fists, but some of it still struck his brain. He stumbled back, closing his eyes just for a moment.
Then he opened them and moved forward. The third and final surprise arrived - Mackenzie was now herself shambling towards him. She looked almost dead, blood vessels all over her face having burst, giving her an odd reddish-purplish appearance. Her blonde hair was matted and dark from the dirt and dust; so was her uniform.
The two fighters, both on the verge of collapsing, neared each other. The sight of her advancing surprised Isaac enough to make him miss his chance of attacking during the cooldown period. He resisted another sphere, all the while she moved closer to him.
When the sphere subsided, the battered and tired Isaac made his move, Mackenzie closing in on him. He punched the air, a line extending out of his fist, but then the actual final surprise struck him - Mackenzie dove toward his legs. The line moved harmlessly above her, and she tackled both of his ankles, her face bouncing off a shin.
She tripped Isaac, who fell right on top of him. Isaac squirmed, but Mackenzie emitted a blast at point-blank range, forcing him to shield himself with his arms.
It’s like I’m not even fighting someone conscious, Isaac realized, himself on the verge of falling unconscious. I’m just fighting the force of will inside her.
Mackenzie crawled up Isaac’s body while her sphere kept him pinned to the ground. When it subsided, Mackenzie pinned both of his arms to the ground before Isaac could react. Grimacing at the sight of this zombified-looking Mackenize on top of him, Isaac realized that, while he couldn’t punch, he still had options.
A line shot out of his fist, coalescing into a clone that stood over them. The clone yanked Mackenzie off of him and bear-hugged her from behind, trapping her. While she struggled, Isaac scrambled to his feet and readied a final punch, intent on ending things.
Another sphere. The clone behind her disintegrated, while Isaac had to shield himself. Before the sphere subsided, Mackenzie grabbed both of his arms and Isaac could tell her waves felt slightly different when it struck them.
When the sphere subsided, Mackenzie’s grip was firm, preventing Isaac from punching her. He went to perform the same strategy of my arms are pinned, I can just make another clone to outmaneuver her, but when he went to create a new clone, nothing happened.
“The fluids and tendons and nerves in your arm move in a certain way when you’re about to make a clone,” Mackenzie explained, her grip on his arms tight as steel. “I used my waves to interrupt all of that. I told you I can get creative with them.”
Isaac realized he needed to do something fast.
I can’t free my arms! She’s about to strike at my brain at point-blank range with nothing protecting it!
I need to strike at her brain first!
With no options, Isaac roared and went for the headbutt. Mackenzie expected this, for she did the same.
Treetops swayed. The blimp passed by overhead, moving silently.
Mackenzie had radar waves cushioning Isaac’s blow and her own. Isaac had neither.
Blood dripped out of their heads, dropping to the ground beneath them. The two heads separated, and Isaac fell to his back, onto the dirt.
Mackenzie stumbled around, wiping the blood off her forehead. She groaned and managed to kneel next to Isaac, this time intent on making sure he stayed asleep until the match was over. She saw the angry look on his face, twisted from a fitful sleep; she placed a bloody yet gentle palm, covered in bruises and cuts from muscles tearing and cuts opening, onto his forehead.
Soothing waves lapped at his hypothalamus, and the twisted look on his face soon turned peaceful.
And that was that.