A Comedy of Errors
Sep. 29th, 2025 06:18 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
muchtooarrogantLJI Week 11: Tiger Team
The following story is a continuation of an entry I wrote during LJ Idol's last mini season, Future's Gambit. I wrote this entry to hopefully stand alone, but also decided to provide the link here in case you're interested.
388873: Your next assignment will be in Austin, TX at the Curtain Theatre on October 25.
Jesse Baker: Interesting, will I be in the audience or somewhere else?
388873: In the audience on the ground level.
JB: And the mission?
388873: The theater is located on private property, and the owner, Richard Garriott, is selling the land. October 25 is the theater's last performance date, Garriott will be there, and a deranged individual will attempt to kill him to prevent the sale.
JB: How do I stop them?
388873: For this mission, you will be partnered with another operative, and they will provide you with additional information once you arrive. Do you agree to this assignment?
JB: Yes, I agree. Who's the operative, and where/when do we meet?
388873: The theater ticket, travel, and lodging information will be sent to your e-mail address. Seating starts at 7:30 PM, but you should arrive at the venue by 6:45 PM to allow sufficient time for your briefing. The other operative assigned to this mission will meet you when you arrive.
JB: How mysterious. That's cutting things pretty close, isn't it?
388873: Chances of personal injury to you related to this event are less than 5%.
JB: Nice to know.
JB: And, that's all you're going to tell me?
The road Jesse was driving down had just ended in a paved turnaround, and he had begun searching for the dirt road he was supposed to follow the rest of the way down the hill when his phone rang. The flight had been delayed, he had been late picking up the rental car, and consequently hadn't bothered pairing his cell to the car's Bluetooth, instead tossing it in the passenger seat. Could the person calling be the mystery operative he was supposed to be meeting?
"Shit!"
Steering with his left hand and fumbling for the phone with his right, he felt its smooth glass under his fingertips, grabbed for it, almost dropped it, and finally succeeded in lifting it to his face. Behind him, a horn blasted, and the car that'd been following him down the hill flashed its lights. Had he been swerving that much? Hurriedly, he pulled to the side of the turnaround, and without seeing the name, stabbed at his phone's screen to accept the call.
"Hello!"
"Jesse? Are you okay?"
He laughed, it wasn't the mystery operative.
"Hi Leanne, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to yell. I'm fine, just trying not to drive off the side of the road."
"Good."
Ordinarily, she would've teased him about being more careful, or ragged on him for not using hands-free, but instead she only said the one word.
"Are you okay?" he echoed back at her.
"I'm ... no ... I think maybe Greg's breaking up with me."
For the past FIVE years he had willingly accepted missions from someone or something that claimed it could predict the future, and dispatched him all over the world to counter certain events. Leanne had always been his friend, and for a while in college had been more than that, but the constant travel and necessity to keep what he did secret had forced them apart. There had been a time, about a year after he started receiving messages from the future alerts number, when he seriously considered stopping what he was doing and trying to start a relationship with her again, but then she had started dating Greg.
"Leanne, I'm so sorry. You said maybe, does that mean ..."
"He's been dropping little hints for weeks, and today sent me a text over lunch saying he wants to meet and talk things over tonight."
"Um, talking can be good," Jesse temporized, glancing at his watch. It was 6:55 PM, he was already ten minutes late. "You know, let you both get things out in the open and hash them out. If he's been dropping hints, maybe something's been eating at him and he just needs to get it off his chest?"
She sniffled. "I think he's seeing someone else."
And, she was probably right. In his admittedly limited experience, most women seemed to have a pretty accurate instinct where infidelity was concerned.
"But, you don't know that for sure," he said, wondering whether he should resume driving down the hill. He had observed several other cars turning down the dirt road his directions had referred to, and if he didn't get moving soon, he might not be able to meet with his contact before the play started.
"I just ... I'd like to have someone to call if he does break up with me. Can I call you later?"
"Yeah. I'm out of town for a work event though," he explained, feeling guilty, "so I might not be able to answer right away."
"You're always out of town lately," she said, sounding resigned.
"Sorry!"
"Okay, I'm almost home," she said in a rush, and he wondered if she just wanted to end the call so she could cry without him hearing. "I'll call you later."
"Okay," he agreed, pulling out from the spot where he had parked and driving towards the dirt road. He was fishing for something else to say, something that would let her know he cared without sounding trite and useless, but she hung up before he could think of any words.
The dirt road was a narrow two-lane affair, and by the time he had worked his way to the end and been directed to a parking area, it was close to 7:15 PM. At least the mysterious operative wouldn't be hard to find, when Jesse exited the car, he recognized the gray-haired older man walking towards him.
"I'm sorry for being late," Jesse apologized, grasping the hand John Amos had extended in greeting.
Four years ago, Jesse had successfully prevented a woman from falling down a staircase to her death, and immediately afterward had met John. Similar to this mission, he had only been told beforehand that he would be meeting another operative, without any other identifying information. The encounter had been useful in confirming he wasn't alone, but frustrating because most of his questions had remained unanswered.
John chuckled. "You should remember you're working for a machine that knows the future. This is exactly when and where it said you'd arrive."
Given the stress of the past couple of hours, Jesse felt like cursing, but held back. Seeing the older man again and the way he projected calm assurance made Jesse feel like a rank amateur.
"Yeah, I guess so."
As they left the parking area, John led him off the path a short distance until they were standing under one of the many pecan trees growing in a grove around the theater.
"I had a chance to walk around a bit before you got here," John said, "and this place is actually pretty interesting."
"From what I read online, it's supposed to be a replica of Shakespeare's Globe Theatre, right?"
"Yes," John agreed, "Garriott built it almost twenty years ago for his acting friends. There's only one private box in the theater, center stage on the second level, and that's where he'll be sitting tonight."
"And, someone's going to try and kill him with what, a gun?"
John nodded. "An audience member will notice a person heading for the box holding a gun, and will shout an alarm. At that point, I'll step in and disarm him."
Jesse's eyebrows went up. "Just like that?"
"Just like that," John grinned. "I've had some training in hand-to-hand combat, and again, remember who we work for."
"Which leaves me doing what?" Jesse asked. "It doesn't sound like I'll be backing you up."
"All I've been told is that you have a ground level ticket, and that you should try and sit as close to the front as possible. That won't be as hard as you might think. They're using what's called a thrust stage here, which means the stage extends into the seating area, and the audience sits around all three sides. No matter where you sit, you're never that far from the actors."
"That's it?" Jesse goggled at the older man. "No instructions, no person to watch for, I just sit?"
John laid a calming hand on his shoulder. "Just think of it as an opportunity to relax and watch a good play."
The last play Jesse had attended was in high school, but judging by what he had seen thus far, that performance from his past would have very little similarity at all to tonight's experience. As John had indicated, the stage took up a significant portion of the ground level where he now sat.
One of the volunteers assisting audience members had gleefully informed him, "You're in the groundlings section."
"The what?"
"The groundlings section," the lady crowed. She leaned in as though conveying top secret information and murmured, "It's where all the poorest audience members stood in Shakespeare's time."
"Stood?" Jesse had asked, probably looking like a deer caught in headlights.
"Well," she laughed, gesturing around her to the crowd of people setting up chairs, spreading out blankets, and sitting on cushions, "obviously not anymore. Didn't you bring a chair?"
"I, um, just got off a plane," Jesse explained, feeling more and more like an idiot. "A friend told me I should try and come since tonight's the last performance."
"Well," she said, taking pity on him, "we do have some extra cushions, give me a sec and I'll grab one for you."
Cushion in hand, he had managed to secure a spot close to the front, and now watched as the first group of actors came out on stage. There were torches with actual fire providing the lighting, and he guessed that this too was traditional to the Elizabethan style.
The program he was holding read, Much Ado About Nothing
Other than the fact that it was Shakespeare, Jesse had a vague idea that it was some sort of romantic comedy, but had no idea beyond that.
The cell phone in Jesse's pants pocket vibrated. He had muted the sound and turned down the screen brightness, but figured he should leave it on in case John or the future alerts number that sent him mission instructions needed to communicate something. Withdrawing the phone and shielding the screen with his hand, he saw that the message was from Leanne.
She had written, "I was right!"
Shit! What should he say?
Tapping letters carefully in the dim light, Jesse responded, "I'm so sorry!" It was the same thing he had said when she called earlier, and the words looked just as inadequate now as they had sounded then.
"Can you call me?"
He was right in the middle of a mission, and yet, what sort of mission was it? He was outside, sitting on a cushion on the ground, with no instructions, no idea what he was supposed to be doing, and almost no understanding of the play he was watching. John had the real mission, preventing a murder from happening.
"I'll try," he texted back.
He was right in front, just as ordered, but if he moved quickly he wouldn't block people's view for very long. He could move to the side, far enough away to be out of hearing, call Leanne for a few minutes, and try and offer some comfort. After being a mostly absent friend for five years, he owed her that much at least. Didn't he?
Screwing up his courage, Jesse stood up, and had barely started moving when someone else crashed into him from behind. With a strangled cry, Jesse and the stranger tumbled groundward. He had been holding on to his phone with one hand, but the collision knocked it free, and the stranger lost something as well. As Jesse watched, a glass bottle hit the ground next to his cell phone and shattered.
There was a rising cacophony of sound all around him, but the one thing that caught and riveted Jesse's attention was the smell. Gasoline! The person who had crashed into him had been trying to start a fire.
Struggling upright, he spotted the would be arson who was still lying on the ground and appeared to be stunned. Scooping up his phone, he noticed with a part of his mind that it was remarkably undamaged, and called 911. Then he moved so that he was standing over the prone figure.
Over the babble of voices all around him, Jesse heard a faint shout from the upper gallery. "Hey, that man! That man has a gun!"
"Good luck, John!"
Author's Note
This week, I decided to use a local news item as the basis of my story. The Curtain Theatre in Austin is quite real, although unfortunately, as alluded to here, October 25 will be the date of the last performance there. I have no idea whether Richard Garriott will attend any of the Curtain Theatre's performances in October, but if he does, I obviously wish him nothing but the best.
My quotes from Much Ado About Nothing were taken from this online resource.
If you enjoyed this entry, I hope you'll consider voting for it here: The Ballot
There were several other great entries this week, and I encourage you to read and vote for your favorites there as well.
Dan
The following story is a continuation of an entry I wrote during LJ Idol's last mini season, Future's Gambit. I wrote this entry to hopefully stand alone, but also decided to provide the link here in case you're interested.
388873: Your next assignment will be in Austin, TX at the Curtain Theatre on October 25.
Jesse Baker: Interesting, will I be in the audience or somewhere else?
388873: In the audience on the ground level.
JB: And the mission?
388873: The theater is located on private property, and the owner, Richard Garriott, is selling the land. October 25 is the theater's last performance date, Garriott will be there, and a deranged individual will attempt to kill him to prevent the sale.
JB: How do I stop them?
388873: For this mission, you will be partnered with another operative, and they will provide you with additional information once you arrive. Do you agree to this assignment?
JB: Yes, I agree. Who's the operative, and where/when do we meet?
388873: The theater ticket, travel, and lodging information will be sent to your e-mail address. Seating starts at 7:30 PM, but you should arrive at the venue by 6:45 PM to allow sufficient time for your briefing. The other operative assigned to this mission will meet you when you arrive.
JB: How mysterious. That's cutting things pretty close, isn't it?
388873: Chances of personal injury to you related to this event are less than 5%.
JB: Nice to know.
JB: And, that's all you're going to tell me?
The road Jesse was driving down had just ended in a paved turnaround, and he had begun searching for the dirt road he was supposed to follow the rest of the way down the hill when his phone rang. The flight had been delayed, he had been late picking up the rental car, and consequently hadn't bothered pairing his cell to the car's Bluetooth, instead tossing it in the passenger seat. Could the person calling be the mystery operative he was supposed to be meeting?
"Shit!"
Steering with his left hand and fumbling for the phone with his right, he felt its smooth glass under his fingertips, grabbed for it, almost dropped it, and finally succeeded in lifting it to his face. Behind him, a horn blasted, and the car that'd been following him down the hill flashed its lights. Had he been swerving that much? Hurriedly, he pulled to the side of the turnaround, and without seeing the name, stabbed at his phone's screen to accept the call.
"Hello!"
"Jesse? Are you okay?"
He laughed, it wasn't the mystery operative.
"Hi Leanne, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to yell. I'm fine, just trying not to drive off the side of the road."
"Good."
Ordinarily, she would've teased him about being more careful, or ragged on him for not using hands-free, but instead she only said the one word.
"Are you okay?" he echoed back at her.
"I'm ... no ... I think maybe Greg's breaking up with me."
For the past FIVE years he had willingly accepted missions from someone or something that claimed it could predict the future, and dispatched him all over the world to counter certain events. Leanne had always been his friend, and for a while in college had been more than that, but the constant travel and necessity to keep what he did secret had forced them apart. There had been a time, about a year after he started receiving messages from the future alerts number, when he seriously considered stopping what he was doing and trying to start a relationship with her again, but then she had started dating Greg.
"Leanne, I'm so sorry. You said maybe, does that mean ..."
"He's been dropping little hints for weeks, and today sent me a text over lunch saying he wants to meet and talk things over tonight."
"Um, talking can be good," Jesse temporized, glancing at his watch. It was 6:55 PM, he was already ten minutes late. "You know, let you both get things out in the open and hash them out. If he's been dropping hints, maybe something's been eating at him and he just needs to get it off his chest?"
She sniffled. "I think he's seeing someone else."
And, she was probably right. In his admittedly limited experience, most women seemed to have a pretty accurate instinct where infidelity was concerned.
"But, you don't know that for sure," he said, wondering whether he should resume driving down the hill. He had observed several other cars turning down the dirt road his directions had referred to, and if he didn't get moving soon, he might not be able to meet with his contact before the play started.
"I just ... I'd like to have someone to call if he does break up with me. Can I call you later?"
"Yeah. I'm out of town for a work event though," he explained, feeling guilty, "so I might not be able to answer right away."
"You're always out of town lately," she said, sounding resigned.
"Sorry!"
"Okay, I'm almost home," she said in a rush, and he wondered if she just wanted to end the call so she could cry without him hearing. "I'll call you later."
"Okay," he agreed, pulling out from the spot where he had parked and driving towards the dirt road. He was fishing for something else to say, something that would let her know he cared without sounding trite and useless, but she hung up before he could think of any words.
The dirt road was a narrow two-lane affair, and by the time he had worked his way to the end and been directed to a parking area, it was close to 7:15 PM. At least the mysterious operative wouldn't be hard to find, when Jesse exited the car, he recognized the gray-haired older man walking towards him.
"I'm sorry for being late," Jesse apologized, grasping the hand John Amos had extended in greeting.
Four years ago, Jesse had successfully prevented a woman from falling down a staircase to her death, and immediately afterward had met John. Similar to this mission, he had only been told beforehand that he would be meeting another operative, without any other identifying information. The encounter had been useful in confirming he wasn't alone, but frustrating because most of his questions had remained unanswered.
John chuckled. "You should remember you're working for a machine that knows the future. This is exactly when and where it said you'd arrive."
Given the stress of the past couple of hours, Jesse felt like cursing, but held back. Seeing the older man again and the way he projected calm assurance made Jesse feel like a rank amateur.
"Yeah, I guess so."
As they left the parking area, John led him off the path a short distance until they were standing under one of the many pecan trees growing in a grove around the theater.
"I had a chance to walk around a bit before you got here," John said, "and this place is actually pretty interesting."
"From what I read online, it's supposed to be a replica of Shakespeare's Globe Theatre, right?"
"Yes," John agreed, "Garriott built it almost twenty years ago for his acting friends. There's only one private box in the theater, center stage on the second level, and that's where he'll be sitting tonight."
"And, someone's going to try and kill him with what, a gun?"
John nodded. "An audience member will notice a person heading for the box holding a gun, and will shout an alarm. At that point, I'll step in and disarm him."
Jesse's eyebrows went up. "Just like that?"
"Just like that," John grinned. "I've had some training in hand-to-hand combat, and again, remember who we work for."
"Which leaves me doing what?" Jesse asked. "It doesn't sound like I'll be backing you up."
"All I've been told is that you have a ground level ticket, and that you should try and sit as close to the front as possible. That won't be as hard as you might think. They're using what's called a thrust stage here, which means the stage extends into the seating area, and the audience sits around all three sides. No matter where you sit, you're never that far from the actors."
"That's it?" Jesse goggled at the older man. "No instructions, no person to watch for, I just sit?"
John laid a calming hand on his shoulder. "Just think of it as an opportunity to relax and watch a good play."
The last play Jesse had attended was in high school, but judging by what he had seen thus far, that performance from his past would have very little similarity at all to tonight's experience. As John had indicated, the stage took up a significant portion of the ground level where he now sat.
One of the volunteers assisting audience members had gleefully informed him, "You're in the groundlings section."
"The what?"
"The groundlings section," the lady crowed. She leaned in as though conveying top secret information and murmured, "It's where all the poorest audience members stood in Shakespeare's time."
"Stood?" Jesse had asked, probably looking like a deer caught in headlights.
"Well," she laughed, gesturing around her to the crowd of people setting up chairs, spreading out blankets, and sitting on cushions, "obviously not anymore. Didn't you bring a chair?"
"I, um, just got off a plane," Jesse explained, feeling more and more like an idiot. "A friend told me I should try and come since tonight's the last performance."
"Well," she said, taking pity on him, "we do have some extra cushions, give me a sec and I'll grab one for you."
Cushion in hand, he had managed to secure a spot close to the front, and now watched as the first group of actors came out on stage. There were torches with actual fire providing the lighting, and he guessed that this too was traditional to the Elizabethan style.
The program he was holding read, Much Ado About Nothing
Other than the fact that it was Shakespeare, Jesse had a vague idea that it was some sort of romantic comedy, but had no idea beyond that.
LEONATO I learn in this letter that Don
Pedro of Aragon comes this night to Messina.
The cell phone in Jesse's pants pocket vibrated. He had muted the sound and turned down the screen brightness, but figured he should leave it on in case John or the future alerts number that sent him mission instructions needed to communicate something. Withdrawing the phone and shielding the screen with his hand, he saw that the message was from Leanne.
She had written, "I was right!"
Shit! What should he say?
MESSENGER I have already delivered him letters, and
there appears much joy in him, even so much that
joy could not show itself modest enough without a
badge of bitterness.
Tapping letters carefully in the dim light, Jesse responded, "I'm so sorry!" It was the same thing he had said when she called earlier, and the words looked just as inadequate now as they had sounded then.
"Can you call me?"
He was right in the middle of a mission, and yet, what sort of mission was it? He was outside, sitting on a cushion on the ground, with no instructions, no idea what he was supposed to be doing, and almost no understanding of the play he was watching. John had the real mission, preventing a murder from happening.
LEONATO What is he that you ask for, niece?
"I'll try," he texted back.
He was right in front, just as ordered, but if he moved quickly he wouldn't block people's view for very long. He could move to the side, far enough away to be out of hearing, call Leanne for a few minutes, and try and offer some comfort. After being a mostly absent friend for five years, he owed her that much at least. Didn't he?
Screwing up his courage, Jesse stood up, and had barely started moving when someone else crashed into him from behind. With a strangled cry, Jesse and the stranger tumbled groundward. He had been holding on to his phone with one hand, but the collision knocked it free, and the stranger lost something as well. As Jesse watched, a glass bottle hit the ground next to his cell phone and shattered.
There was a rising cacophony of sound all around him, but the one thing that caught and riveted Jesse's attention was the smell. Gasoline! The person who had crashed into him had been trying to start a fire.
Struggling upright, he spotted the would be arson who was still lying on the ground and appeared to be stunned. Scooping up his phone, he noticed with a part of his mind that it was remarkably undamaged, and called 911. Then he moved so that he was standing over the prone figure.
Over the babble of voices all around him, Jesse heard a faint shout from the upper gallery. "Hey, that man! That man has a gun!"
"Good luck, John!"
Author's Note
This week, I decided to use a local news item as the basis of my story. The Curtain Theatre in Austin is quite real, although unfortunately, as alluded to here, October 25 will be the date of the last performance there. I have no idea whether Richard Garriott will attend any of the Curtain Theatre's performances in October, but if he does, I obviously wish him nothing but the best.
My quotes from Much Ado About Nothing were taken from this online resource.
If you enjoyed this entry, I hope you'll consider voting for it here: The Ballot
There were several other great entries this week, and I encourage you to read and vote for your favorites there as well.
Dan
no subject
Date: 2025-09-30 03:12 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2025-09-30 03:23 pm (UTC)Dan
no subject
Date: 2025-10-01 01:55 am (UTC)"You should remember you're working for a machine that knows the future. This is exactly when and where it said you'd arrive."
:D So Jesse was the only one who didn't know that!
The arsonist was a surprise! But maybe Jesse's whole purpose was to get in his way and slow him down.
no subject
Date: 2025-10-01 02:26 am (UTC)I'm not sure whether you mean the bolded interchanges at the beginning, or the bits with play extracts at the end? The beginning part was easy, although that's mostly because I'm a weirdo who doesn't mind writing in HTML codes by hand as I write. The play extracts were easy as well, I just used blockquote tags to enclose them.
So Jesse was the only one who didn't know that!
Well, I mean he obviously did at some level, he'd been working for the thing for five years at this point, but I'm sure you've had one of those crappy days where nothing seems to be going your way. Are you going to stop and think in the middle of that stress, "Hey, I need to just quit worrying about being late. This thing knows the future, so it must've known I'd be late as well."
The arsonist was a surprise! But maybe Jesse's whole purpose was to get in his way and slow him down.
Exactly right. Poor Jesse's only reason for being there was to stand up at precisely the right time to trip up the arsonist. Not particularly flattering, and again it's not something the future alerts machine can tell him either. "You're going to be agonizing over whether or not to call your ex-girlfriend in order to comfort her during a breakup." Knowing that Leanne's breakup would happen, that she would call him, twice, and that standing up in the middle of the play was actually his mission would almost certainly throw off both his responses and his timing.
LOL Yeah, I had fun writing this one.
Thanks!
Dan
no subject
Date: 2025-10-01 02:45 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2025-10-01 03:55 pm (UTC)Thanks for reading.
Dan
no subject
Date: 2025-10-01 07:58 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2025-10-01 08:10 pm (UTC)Dan
no subject
Date: 2025-10-02 06:56 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2025-10-02 07:57 pm (UTC)Thank you for saying that. I don't know whether it's a curse or a gift, but I often think up fairly complicated plots, and then have to decide if I have the space and the writing chops to pull it off. LOL I really enjoyed writing this entry, but it kept sending me down so many rabbit holes. How to describe the Curtain/Globe Theatre, what the land around it was like, directions that Jesse would follow to get there, Elizabethan plays, and even Richard Garriott himself. Of course, only about a tenth of what I read got into the story, but hopefully it made the final product original. Anyway, I'm glad you enjoyed this.
Totally off topic, but I thought of another good book related to acting, if you're still seeking those. I really enjoyed By Any Other Name by Jodi Picoult.
Dan
no subject
Date: 2025-10-03 02:26 pm (UTC)Oooh! Thanks, Dan! Just put it in my cart. I really did love If We Were Villains!
no subject
Date: 2025-10-07 03:55 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2025-10-07 10:58 pm (UTC)Dan
no subject
Date: 2025-10-07 05:38 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2025-10-07 11:01 pm (UTC)Dan
no subject
Date: 2025-10-07 09:32 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2025-10-07 11:06 pm (UTC)Dan