Date: Sat, 10 Dec 1994 01:37:40 -0500 Reply-To: Highlander TV show stories Sender: Highlander TV show stories From: Laura Michaels Subject: Duncan MacLeod on the Internet For those of you on the Highlander mailing list who want definitive answers, from a known source, to some of the most talked about questions on the list, here it is. ..I said they were 'definitive', that's all I claimed. Read on at your own risk.... LM Duncan MacLeod on the Internet routed by Laura Michaels (lauram3017@aol.com) The year is 3293. Duncan and his girl friend, Ariel, currently reside on a space station in the asteroid belt between Jupiter and Mars. "Duncan," Ariel called to her boy friend. "You'll never guess what I found when I was digging through some of the old records in the mail database." "My missing credit for ten thousand from Amanda?" Duncan asked, hopefully. "You're dreaming, right?" Duncan sighed. "What'd you find?" "I found some files that look like they're in the format of that old computer network on Earth, Arpanet, I think. It's weird," Ariel said. "I wonder how all that old stuff got out there," Duncan said. It's probably just a lot of outdated junk mail." "That's just it, Duncan. It's in the old format, but we're receiving the information now. It's coming in in TCP/IP protocol." "That can't be, Ariel. No one uses that old protocol. I don't even know how the mail system could be receiving something that outdated." "I told you not to buy that antique mail computer, didn't I?" was Ariel's retort. "The information seems to be about you. That's why the mail system routed it here. You know, you left it on global search to access anything in the mail that mentioned your name." "I know, Ariel. I still remember how much you complained, about the cost for an automatic search of other people's mail, when you were trying to balance the budget. It's not like I really should have to worry about staying within a budget. After all, I can afford it." "I only complained because you got upset when we ran short of funds for your liquor reserve that month." "I forgot about that. I'm sorry I yelled at you then. But I really would have preferred it if you had let me know we were short. I could have rearranged the budget and paid for the liquor instead." "The mail search was a more important investment than a few extra crates of alcohol. You wouldn't want some government or law enforcement official discovering anything unusual about you. And if one did, it's better to have advance notice, so we can come up with some sort of reasonable explanation." "Actually, if I remember properly, at the time I set it up, I was trying to find out if Connor was giving away any hints about my sword techniques to Fitzcairn. We were supposed to have a practice session that month." Duncan decided to change the subject before Ariel could give him another lecture on the budget and wasting money. "So what kind of messages are we receiving, honey?" "The messages all appear to be about you, in some way." "About me?" What would a bunch of scientists and researchers on Arpanet be saying about me?" Ariel gave Duncan an incredulous look, knowing full well they'd have a lot to discuss if they could get themselves an Immortal to volunteer to play guinea pig. "Well what are they saying about me?" "There seems to be several topics. They're discussing and debating subjects like the Quickenings, buzzes, historical dates, sword fighting techniques." Duncan began to worry. Scientists in the 20th century shouldn't know about Immortals. They didn't even tell all that many scientists in the 33rd century and most of those were Immortals anyway. "There's even something here about TV ratings and production bloopers." "What?" The light finally dawned on Duncan. "That's not Arpanet, Ariel. That's Internet. It comes after Arpanet." "How can you tell?" "They're discussing TV shows aren't they?" asked Duncan. "Don't scientists discuss TV shows?" Ariel wanted to know. "Not when their bosses are looking over their shoulders...or into their e-mail viewers." "Oh," said Ariel. "I wonder why they would be talking about me on Internet in the 20th century? Hey, maybe it's a parallel universe or something." "I'll bet that's it." Duncan was surprised that Ariel agreed with him. "That's why we're getting a live feed from the 20th century when its the 33rd century," said Ariel. Actually, from some of these comments, it seems to be taking place somewhere in the 1990s." "1990s, huh? I remember that time. I was there, you know." "I know, Duncan," Ariel replied. "There's an awfully large volume of mail coming in." "Are you sure it's all about me? Maybe there's another Duncan MacLeod." "I believe it's you they're talking about, Duncan. There's something in here about 'Duncan's closest friends'.... They mention your kinsman, Connor, and Richie.... Did I meet Richie?" "Yeah." "Which one was he?" "He's that rich kid, thirteen hundred and nine year old kid, actually. Owns that large spread in Europa." "The one with the thousand and twenty-four room mansion and the low-grav pool?" Ariel asked. "Yeah, he also owns most of the pubs...so they can't card him anymore." "Card him?" "They used to ask to see your age before they'd sell you a drink. You had to be twenty-one or older," Duncan explained. "Oh. I read about that. They don't do that anymore. Haven't for years." "Well, old habits die hard. Besides, I think he enjoys getting revenge on some of the local lawmakers. They're private pubs, and if Richie says he wants to see someone's ID before he'll give them a drink, they have to show ID to get a drink. I remember he got the idea from some silly conversation with Dawson. ...That really brings back memories." Ariel interrupted before Duncan could go into a flashback about life in the 20th century. "Who's Dawson?" "A watcher." He noticed Ariel's puzzled look. "I'll explain it some other time. What else is in that mailing list?" "Here's something about Dawson. There are several letters discussing why he made all that fuss about having to go to the bathroom during a stakeout. Says 'he's been on stakeouts before'--" "Never could understand that either. I think I told him to go use a tree or cup or something. Skip that and get back to the stuff about me, will you, sweetheart." "I'll see what I can find. It's hard to sort through all this." Ariel scanned the information further. "There's a discussion about 'in the end, there can be only one. Who do you think it will be?' They're discussing the Gathering currently occurring and trying to figure out which Immortal is best with a sword, assuming that Immortal will be the last." "No, they have it all wrong. Can we send mail to their list? Set them straight?" "If we're receiving, I don't see why we can't send as well." "Good. Ariel, take a message.... Tell them...they have it all wrong. The Gathering isn't occurring yet. Sure we have some social gatherings, take a few heads every so often, but THE Gathering isn't here yet. 'In the end there can be only one'? They actually said that?" "They mentioned it quite a lot," Ariel replied. "Well, tell them the key is the 'in the end' part. We're talking about end, like...what was that PBS show back in the 20th century, honey? The one with the guide book and the thing about knowing where your towel is?" "Restaurant at the End of the Universe." "That's it. Thanks, sweetheart. When the universe ends, we all get together, have the biggest party ever and take everyone's heads. After all, if the universe isn't there anymore, how can we go on. And of course, someone has to be left last to make sure the others' heads roll properly." Ariel transcribed what Duncan said to the mail database. "You should also mention them, there's no question about who's best with a sword. I am." "That's not what Connor says," Ariel replied. "What does Connor know?" Ariel knew better than to argue with her boy friend. He could subject her to years of flashbacks worth of history to prove whatever point he wanted. She changed the subject. "Here's an interesting topic. There's a message that gives a theory why Immortal's don't fight on holy ground and discusses how that relates to all Immortals being orphans." "Okay, this I'd like to hear." "It mentions holy areas being marked by lay lines--" "What are lay lines?" "Theoretical magnetic fields that crisscrossed the Earth and were believed to have mystical properties," Ariel said. "No, I don't buy that. They're no lay lines in space." "Why don't you fight on holy ground then, Duncan?" "It's one of those...chivalrous customs--" "Yes, but some of these messages say that if something didn't force Immortals to not fight on holy ground...uh, how'd they phrase it, 'all the bad immies of the week would fight there to gain an advantage'." "'Bad immies of the week'?" "I guess they're talking about the other Immortals that you fight." "They're the bad guys, huh?" Duncan asked. Ariel nodded. "I like that idea. Well, all Immortals like to be considered chivalrous, even the uh 'bad guys.' It's an image thing. Besides if we didn't want to act chivalrous, we'd all be running around taking heads with blasters instead of old swords. Then we wouldn't need to worry about things like holy ground at all." "So none of you ever fight on holy ground, because you all just kind of agreed it was the thing to do?" "Well...yeah." Duncan hedged. The pause didn't escape Ariel. "What aren't you telling me this time, Duncan?" "Well, actually, it's not like we never fight on holy ground. It's more like we almost never fight on holy ground. Not that I would have wanted this to get back to Darius or Constantine or Connor, especially not Connor but...I may have had a few fights or rolled a few heads on holy ground." Duncan thought about it. "Like maybe Kern or Cahill or...." "Do you want me to transcribe this part?" "No!" Duncan calmed down, then continued. "You see the problem is with all the cultures involved. It can get pretty hard to tell what's considered holy ground. There could be an open, grassy field and you'd have no way of knowing it's an ancient Indian burial ground, unless the Indians told you. Or say there's some old Egyptian tomb covered over by mountains of sand. It can be really hard to figure out where these places are." "So why did they include so many types of holy ground in the agreement?" "Well, it's kind of like the...let me think.... In the 20th century, you can compare it to the U.N. If you leave out one culture, pretty soon no one will agree on anything. We included everyone's definition of holy ground...and I mean everyone's...just so we could get a consensus." "Okay, on to the next one," said Ariel. "Here's a message where they're discussing how you explain to mortals about your messed up home after a Quickening goes off. If they think that's bad, they should see this place after you and your friends have one of your all night drinking gatherings. That's a lot messier than a Quickening and no one's ever asked us about that. Maybe the neighbors have complained a few times...." "Don't worry about the complaints, sweetheart. After the last party, Connor and I paid a visit to some of the neighbors. They understood completely. There won't be any more complaints." "You didn't happen to have a couple of swords highly visible at the time, did you?" Duncan smiled and shrugged in reply. He might have. "So what do you want to tell them about the messes in your home after the Quickenings?" asked Ariel. "I don't have that problem anymore. That's why I moved to a space station. It's the instant equivalent of holy ground. After all, what Immortal would be dumb enough to fight on a space station? He could end up destroying vital parts of the station. Okay, he'd get his Quickening, but he'd be floating out in the middle of space in some sort of stasis for who knows how long. You can compare it to the STAR TREK movies. The people on the mailing list must have seen those by now. There was the time when Spock was floating in space 'til he landed on the Genesis planet. It would be similar to that. Most Immortals wouldn't waste their time with a stunt like that. If we want to fight, we take our spaceships, head toward the nearest planetary body and have it out. Makes a good vacation three or four times a year." "Next message," Ariel said. "It says something here about...'Why does Duncan risk getting new girl friends and having new relationships with girls like Anne....' Who's Anne?" "I don't know, sweetheart. Could be anyone." "You don't know?" Ariel asked, incredulous. "She's probably some old girl friend from a long time ago. She means nothing to me, honest. I barely even remember her." Duncan sidestepped the topic. "What else does it say?" "'Why does Duncan risk getting new girl friends and having new relationships with girls?'" Ariel intentionally left out the 'like Anne' part this time. "'Wouldn't he get too depressed to keep forming meaningful relationships when he knows everyone he loves will die while he just keeps living?'" "Tell them.... No, I wouldn't get too depressed to form a deep, personal relationship. And about that part about me having to watch all my loves die, that's why I switched to having an android for a girl friend. She can hang around as long as I can." "Is that why you like me? Because I can live a long time. I thought you liked me for my personality." Ariel started to cry. "If I live to be four thousand, I'll never understand women," Duncan muttered to himself. He put his arm around Ariel. "I didn't mean it like that, sweetheart. I do love you for your personality. I didn't even know you were an android when we met." "Really?" "Really." He decided not to mention the part about his being stone drunk at the time. "Now can you finish transcribing this, honey?" "Sure, Duncan. It's transcribed." "Oh, you might want to tell them how it's very convenient the way you can handle all those electronic gadgets in the household just by thinking about them. And you can tell them that androids are good in bed, too." "Duncan!" Ariel was embarrassed. "...Changing the av channel." Duncan fumbled for a more G-rated explanation if only for Ariel's sake. "You're very good at changing the av channels when we're in the bedroom. You don't even have to get out of bed to do it. You can tell them that, can't you?" Ariel enjoyed the compliment about her abilities. "Thank you, Duncan, but do you really want to tell them so much about our personal life?" "People like to discuss subjects like bedrooms on these types of lists." "All right, Duncan," Ariel said. She included the information, but thought the whole thing sounded a little strange. "The message goes on to say 'And why would he take the risk after that gypsy curse....' What gypsy curse, Duncan?" "Oh that, I'm sure it doesn't apply to androids." "What doesn't apply?" Ariel asked. "There was this gypsy back in 1842, I think. She read my palm and said I'd never get married or bad things would befall my intended or something like that." "Let me see your palm." "You know how to read palms?" Duncan asked. After the palm readings he'd had, he never wanted another one again. "Of course I know how to read palms. I have access to the equivalent of 21,296 books on the subject. Let me see.... Uh-huh." "What?" Duncan asked, worried. "Just as I suspected. You have a very long life line and...." "And?" asked Duncan. "I don't see anything here about a problem with marriage. Are you sure there's really a gypsy curse? Or maybe you just wanted an excuse to stay a bachelor." Duncan had discussed marriage with women before. There was Tess and Little Deer and a few others. They were all dead, but then almost all of his girl friends were dead by now. Let's see, of all the women who died after I proposed marriage, there's about a handful of them; that's over a seventeen century range. "Yes, I think it could be considered a curse," Duncan rationalized. "And you're absolutely certain this gypsy knew what she was doing?" "Well, to tell the truth.... It was a little dark, and we were camped out in the middle of the woods, maybe I got my hands smudged. But she seemed so sure." "Well I don't see it. There's nothing here about marriage or curses," Ariel told him. Duncan felt relieved Ariel didn't see any more bad luck coming his way, or maybe it was the fact she said she didn't see anything about marriage coming his way, or so he hoped. "Oh, Duncan, here's another one." Ariel decided to change the subject. Her senses had detected Duncan was just a little uncomfortable talking about palm reading. "It says here something about 'Will Duncan ever get married?'. Will we, Duncan?" "Sure, Ariel. We'll get married just as soon as it becomes legal for androids and humans to marry." "I'll answer that as a yes," Ariel told him firmly. "Next message," Duncan said. "There are some messages here asking 'Where do Immortal's keep their swords when people can't see them?. How do Immortals get them on public airlines or past customs?' Those sorts of questions. A few of them go on to make suggestions about something they call a magic pocket." "A magic pocket? Everyone knows Immortals keep swords in their TARDISs." He looked at Ariel to see how seriously she was taking him. "I'm a DOCTOR WHO fan, you know." "I know, Duncan, honey," Ariel replied, remembering the line from STAR WARS. "Seriously, we smuggle swords the same way everyone else smuggles items past customs in the 33rd century. People smuggle things on luxury liner ships or past airlocks all the time. Do you think they'd understand it if we tried to explain the personal em fields people use today?" "No. I don't think so. Besides, even if we send them the schematics for an em field, most of the quantum electronic parts that are needed to build one weren't invented then. Maybe we should skip that question." "No. Just tell them it's similar to the concept of a compact Romulan cloaking device." "Okay." Ariel continued sorting through the mail. "This one asks for clarification about the range of the buzz when following another Immortal." "That's easy to answer." "I thought you said the pesky thing was always changing range so you never knew how far off someone could be. Remember that one time, you said it was a very clear night, and you picked up that buzz all the way from Earth." "Oh yeah, that. Actually, what really happened was someone left the radio on a heavy metal station after a party and I had gotten drunk and fallen asleep. I woke up to some boring earth news broadcast and had a terrible hangover." "But, you said...." "Well, it sounded good at the time and besides Connor was going on about when he picked up that car that tried to run over one of his girl friends." "You mean you lied?" Ariel asked, dismayed Duncan would do such a thing. "I didn't lie. I may have exaggerated it just a little. My head really was buzzing the next morning." Ariel shook her head. "You know, I think it was Richie who left the radio on. I'll have to return the favor and leave him an av disk of some bagpipe music next holiday. Some loudly recorded bagpipe music...very loud. Remind me, will you, Ariel?" "What about the question regarding the buzz, Duncan?" "We really don't use the buzz that much nowadays, especially when following an Immortal. We use electronic sensors. They have a lot better range. You can pick up a visitor well before the spaceship comes near the station, not just after it's docked." "Duncan, here's an interesting message. They want to know what a Quickening is." "It's a hell of a way to get a GREAT hangover. What else do they want to know?" "Why do so many Immortals have names that begin with the letters K or C?" "A lot of us are big Klingon fans. This is getting easy," Duncan commented. "What's next?" Just then that pesky buzz entered Duncan's head. He looked up and around as if to locate where it was coming from. Duncan's antique doorbell chimed. "Oops," said Ariel. "I forgot to tell you; Connor said he'd stop by for dinner tonight." Duncan looked disappointed. He was really getting into this mail stuff. "I guess we'll have to take up where we left off tomorrow." "Maybe we'll have some replies by then," Ariel suggested. Duncan decided he was looking forward to that. * * * "Do we have mail yet, sweetheart?" "Yes, Duncan. Lots of it." "Did they say anything about my comments yesterday?" "Let's see. Here's something. Someone liked your comments about the bedroom. She goes on to say, she has a king size bed and a remote cable box switcher and.... I think we should move on to another letter." "Ariel. It was just getting interesting." "This may be interesting," she said hopefully. "This guy says, 'Okay, read your theory about the swords, but where do they hide the TARDISs. Wouldn't someone notice a guy walking around with a large phone booth?'" Ariel and Duncan looked at each other and shook their heads. "Not interesting," she said. "Not interesting," he agreed. "All right. How about this one? Someone said they brought a hard copy of some of your comments to the Highlander convention--" "We have a convention in that universe?" "It would seem so," said Ariel. "Gotta tell Connor about this." Ariel continued. "The person said she showed the comments to Adrian Paul--" "Funny, Paul doesn't sound like a Scottish name." "...And Adrian Paul said they were way off base." "He said what? Who is this Adrian Paul, anyway?" asked Duncan. "Damned if I know. Here's another remark about your comments. This person said 'if Adrian Paul said your comments weren't accurate, they weren't accurate. AP would know.'" "Who does this Adrian Paul think he is? Duncan MacLeod?" "Uh-oh." "Now what?" "There are some notes here talking about whether or not they should flame you, Duncan." "That's no big deal. I'm an Immortal. I've been hung, stabbed, buried. I'm still fine. I've been burned before, Ariel." "Duncan, flaming is an old-style Internet slang term for bombarding your electronic mail address with angry letters." "Can they do that?" Ariel nodded. "It wouldn't be a big deal, would it?" asked Duncan. "After all, we're over a thousand years more advanced than these people, technologically." "Well...if they send enough mail, it'll get hard to locate your bills in all this data, so I can't make sure they get paid on time." "That would be bad," Duncan agreed. "I'll tell you what. Can you digitize one of those 3D av disks into a format that can be sent through the network?" "Of course, Duncan. We'll need to include a playback program too." "All right. Why don't you take a copy of the disk we made last Halloween, the really scary one, where I show off some beheading moves with Connor's old katana. Digitize and send it through the Internet to anyone who tries to send flame mail. When they check their mail, they'll be able to see exactly who they're dealing with." "Okay, Duncan, honey." "After all, as far as opinions go.... How'd they say it? 'There can be only one'.... And that's Duncan MacLeod's." =========================================================================