Part 1 of an answer to the 'sunlight' word challenge
By Gumnut
10-12 Jul 2004
A thousand tinkling orbs of silver, sprayed out against the purple of the sky. Thunder in his ears, a whistling of wind passing over the heat of his skin. Glare as his face was forced heavenward, sunlight etching into his retinas, blinding him.
Trembling weightlessness.
A sudden indrawn breath of disbelieving astonishment.
And he fell.
xxxxxx
Snapshot.
A flicker, a slither of time, a moment stolen from continuity and frozen forever.
Electricity powers everything. Human and AI minds alike, yet the circuits of the artificial intelligence have a permanency the human mind neglects. Memory set in stone.
He caught it and would forever remember it.
xxxxxx
A lone car on the highway.
"It was all your fault, you know."
"My fault? I do seem to recall warning you."
"When?"
"Before we stopped."
"Before you put the top down."
"What?"
"Before you opened the book."
"C'mon-"
"Before you fell asleep."
"I did not fall asleep!"
"So all that snoring was purely generated for my benefit, then?"
"What snoring?"
Immediately Kitt's voice was replaced by a recording of some animal noises.
"What!"
"Don't blame me, I'm just the playback tool."
Michael glared at the dashboard. "When did you become such a smart alec?"
"Approximately two point six seconds after I realised it was you I would have to work with."
"Oh, ha-ha. That still doesn't explain why you didn't wake me up."
"Michael, there have been times where a twenty gun salute has not been able to wake you up."
"What makes you say that?"
"Because I've tried it!"
"Oh." Pause. "Well, you still could've put the top back up."
"Fine. Which limb did you prefer to be removed first?"
"What?"
"Michael, can we say 'sprawl'? You had various body parts sticking out at various angles. Closing the top would have removed at least one of your arms, if not a couple of legs."
Michael didn't answer that one. The mental picture was enough.
"Okay, Kitt. But regardless, it was still your idea."
"My idea? I do not recall mentioning anything involving ritual solar bombardment."
"'A dose of sun and surf', I think was your phrasing."
"Yes, a nice little trip to the beach, Michael, an activity that has proven relaxing for you in the past. I was simply thinking of your welfare. It is not my fault you don't think of it yourself."
There was no answer to that one.
Silence.
So, okay, maybe it had been his fault, but you'd think with all this wizbang gadgetry, he would have been able to avoid a simple case of sunburn.
Damn, he felt awful. Kitt had the air conditioning blasting , attempting to cool him down, but it was having limited success.
"Kitt, how far do we have left to go?"
There was a pause, and Michael wondered briefly if he had managed to annoy the AI that little bit too much.
"Another forty-five minutes." The tone was curt and precise. Damn.
"Listen, Kitt, I'm sorry."
Silence.
"Kitt, it was my fault, I admit it, okay?"
More silence.
"For crying out loud, Kitt, I'm the one paying for it."
There was a beep, and Michael's vital signs popped up on the monitor. "Yes, Michael, I would say you are." The data was suddenly replaced by a Kitt's eye view of Michael's face.
Oh. My. God.
His hands left the steering wheel and Kitt switched to Auto Cruise as Michael grabbed the rearview mirror and examined himself.
"My god, Kitt, I can't go around looking like this."
"I don't think you have a choice, Michael."
"But I look...I look ridiculous!"
"A simple matter of opinion."
He glanced at the dashboard again. "What?"
"Any resemblance to a raccoon is purely coincidental."
"Kitt!"
"Yes, Michael?"
Strangulation, yes, strangulation. If only he had a neck.
"Michael, are you quite alright? Your blood pressure just jumped alarmingly."
"I'm just fine, Kitt, just fine." Gritted teeth. "But I am not going to the Foundation Charity Dinner looking like this."
"I'm afraid, Michael, that due to the fact that you were wearing your sunglasses when you fell asleep this afternoon, you do not have a choice."
"Yes, I do. I'm simply not going."
"Bonnie will be disappointed."
"Bonnie will survive."
"She won't like it."
"Fine. Then you go with her."
"I had intended to in any case. However, you were also requested to attend."
"I am not going to the Dinner looking like a red and white raccoon."
"Unfortunately, Michael, this time you will have to."
"Wh-?" And then it struck him. Devon's presentation. Damn!
Damn.
Damn, he felt hot.
"Kitt, could you up the air conditioning."
"I already have, Michael. Any colder and my upholstery will start to freeze."
"Exaggeration doesn't become you, Kitt."
"Who said I was exaggerating?"
xxxxxx
Frozen time. Split seconds. Decision calculated and made.
Power rerouted.
Systems engaged.
Body deployed.
The black car took on a life of its own, asphalt, turf, and fencing, no obstacle. It shot forward like a projectile, guests scattering, people screaming.
The edge came up fast and the earth disappeared beneath him.
And Kitt flew.
xxxxxx
God, he hated these things.
He could feel Bonnie staring at him again as he hid behind his sunglasses, and his tie was still trying to strangle him, in between attempts to rub his sunburnt skin raw.
"Michael, are you sure you're up to this?"
"He is."
Michael glared at the dash for the fiftieth time since they'd left the mansion. "I can speak for myself, you know."
"Yes, but each time you do, it involves some reason not to attend this gathering, and since you can not avoid Devon's presentation, your statements are redundant."
"Did you wake up on the wrong side of the garage this morning, Kitt?"
"Are you attempting to imply something, Michael?"
"Not attempting, Kitt. Determinedly succeeding."
"It is all your fault."
"My fault? What have I done now? I thought we'd already discussed the sunburn situation." He glanced at Bonnie, trying his best to ignore the grin on her face.
"Not the sunburn. While you were inside dressing yourself in that penguin suit you so revile, I did a systems check. I have sand in places most undignified, and I noticed that you failed to notice the little deposit left by the local wildlife. You look all dressed up, while I'm driving around with some animal's faeces as a hood ornament."
Okay, Kitt was totally miffed. He peered through the windshield. Sure enough, just over the curve of the shaped shell, a large blob of white seagull leftovers was dried to the ebony paintwork.
"Okay, okay, Kitt. Plot yourself to the nearest car wash."
"We will be late."
"No great loss, trust me."
He ignored the suspiciously amused sounds coming from the direction of the passenger seat.
xxxxx
The world spun.
Liquid fell with him, glistening drops catching the sunlight and refracting it in thousands of sparkling directions.
Wind tore the breath from his lungs.
This was what infinity was like.
This was what his last moments were like.
This was the end.
xxxxx
They made it almost on time. Kitt's body shining in the late afternoon sun, water beading on the paintwork, they pulled into the long driveway of the seaside mansion. Devon did pick the places.
People were milling about the entrance to the rather intimidating structure, formal wear sparkling.
"We need to park on the other side of this building."
"What gives you that idea, Kitt?"
"Devon. He is waving us in that direction."
Michael glanced to the right, and sure enough there stood his boss, obviously attempting to gain his attention, rather vehemently pointing in the direction of a side road around the mansion. Instead of immediately obeying, Michael pulled the Trans Am up next to the immaculately dressed Englishman.
"Yo, Devon."
He received a glare in return. "You're late. What ha-" Devon frowned and leaned further in the window. "Michael, are you quite alright?"
Michael grimaced. "I'm fine."
Devon glanced at Bonnie, who smiled innocently back at him, before turning to the dashboard of the car. "Kitt?"
"He's fine." Was that amusement in Kitt's voice?
Michael, still hiding behind his sunglasses, interrupted Devon before he could inquire further. "Kitt says you want us to park somewhere specific."
Devon blinked, obviously considering whether to interrogate the driver or not. "Yes, KITT is part of the display tonight."
"Aww, c'mon, Devon, you know how he hates that."
"I know how much you hate it." Devon was almost smiling at him.
"I think Michael can be excused in this case, Mr Miles." Devon's eyebrows shot up at Kitt's interjection. "He is not well."
"But you just said-"
"I was mistaken."
Devon stared at the dashboard before turning a shocked gaze at Michael who immediately feigned innocence. "What?"
"Bonnie, will you please tell me what is going on between these two."
Michael was rather miffed at the grin plastered all over her face. "Michael had a little accident this afternoon." She reached up and gently removed his glasses.
Devon's jaw dropped. "Oh, my."
Michael could almost count it down in his head. Three, two, one...
"Of all the irresponsible...Michael, do you know how important this event is!" He backed up and threw up his hands. "This is not the time for the ridiculous!"
"Hey! It was an accident."
His boss ignored him, and addressed Kitt. "Couldn't you have prevented this?"
"Hey! This is not his fault! I made a mistake, I have to live with it."
Devon glared at him. "You're not the only one."
"Mr Miles, Michael will be wearing his sunglasses and his...appearance...will be hardly noticeable. I just think that perhaps keeping him out of the spotlight tonight would be sensible." Pause. "For both his dignity... and mine."
Devon looked as if he was about to spit something out, but eventually swallowed and settled for a glare in Michael's direction. "Drive around the back of the building. You will see where you need to park."
With that he turned and stalked off.
Okay, mentally adding Devon to the list of people he had ticked off today, Michael drove off in the direction he had been told.
Bonnie wasn't laughing, but she still had a suspicious smile on her face. "You're enjoying this, aren't you?"
"Would I do that?"
He ignored her, and projected annoyance through the windshield.
xxxxx
It took timing.
It took precision.
It took everything he had.
Super Pursuit Mode had never been designed for this.
The wind rushed past his sensors as he shifted his centre of gravity, rotating the car's position in mid flight, lowering the T-top at an impossible speed, altering the focus of his mass, shutting SPM vents and fins erratically, levelling out his body parallel to the inevitable impact point.
The scream of firing turbo boosters.
He fell.
Fast.
But he got into position.
He had to.
xxxxx
"Oh, look dear, it's a Trans Am!"
The over dressed, obviously over fed, woman came hurrying over to him, champagne glass in one hand, some cream coated concoction in the other. It took two microseconds for Kitt to calculate the probability of a dollop of that cream smearing his paintwork. It only took one for it to actually happen.
"Oh, oops, silly me. Honey, hand me your handkerchief." The rather short man at her side complied as the woman downed the last of her delicacy, and Kitt had the pleasure of having said dollop of cream smeared even further, complete with greasy fingerprints.
Oil. He hadn't used it in a while, but he still had the capability to shoot it out of various outlets. Hmm, a couple of nice black smears might actually improve that outfit she was wearing.
"Knight Industries Two Thousand. Hmph. Looks like a Trans Am to me. Wonder what makes it so special?" She continued to rub his fender.
I could show you if you like. Anaharmonic synthesizer or a simple turbo boost into the table decorations? He amused himself with the resultant probability scenarios.
The champagne glass was deposited on his hood.
Kitt reached for his ignition.
"Ah, Mrs Humplestein, let me help you with that." Michael appeared from nowhere and rescued him.
"Oh, young man, that is so kind of you."
His driver grabbed the glass, a meaningful glance in Kitt's direction, his only communication. "Ma'am, have you seen the view from the balcony? I hear that it is spectacular at sunset." The woman reacted as predicted. Most women responded well to Michael's charm, and she was no exception. She fawned over him, and Kitt suddenly received the impression that even Michael might have dug himself in too deep.
Backing off slightly, Kitt's driver turned to her partner. "Sir, you must take her up there."
"Yes, Roger, we must." She suddenly peered up at Michael. "Young man, are you quite alright?"
Michael swallowed.
Kitt didn't hesitate. In fact, he didn't know why he hadn't thought of it earlier. He bounced the sound off the mansion itself, causing the voice to seem to be coming from the centre of the milling throng nearby. "Mrs Humplestein! Oh, Mrs Humplestein, you look fabulous this evening."
The woman's ears perked up in the direction of the crowd. "Oh, please excuse us. Society calls." Thankfully she wandered off in search of her admirer, her husband tagging along behind her.
Michael slumped wearily against Kitt's fender. "Thanks for that buddy."
"I think I owe you a thankyou, Michael. That woman..."
"I know, I know. Go to your happy place, Kitt."
"Hmph. How much longer?"
"Devon's presentation is just before sunset, you know that. We can't possibly leave before then."
"We could always hope for a distraction."
"I'm with you on that one." Michael stood up. "Pop the trunk, pal, I'll get this cleaned up for you."
With considerable relief, Kitt did so, and Michael fossicked around for the cleaning solution and cloth he habitually kept in there for situations such as these. Though usually it was something less exotic than cream.
Kitt appreciated his driver. Michael was a bit rough around the edges, but all in all he meant well, and when push came to shove, his heart was in the right place.
And nothing showed it more to Kitt than the care he was currently taking of him.
The soft cloth was wiped over his fender, the solution removing all trace of that vile woman's attentions.
Michael hated these events as much as Kitt did, though usually for different reasons. Kitt didn't mind being the centre of attention, but only if that attention was knowledgeable and informed. The blatant disregard for his intelligence, that gatherings such as these usually provided, became almost alarming to him at times, reminding him of the reality of being a lone AI in a world of ignorant humans.
It told him that his safety and respect lay only with those few he called family.
Thoughts like that wandered off into maudlin. He quickly shut down that train of thought and filed it away for later perusal.
"Thankyou, Michael."
"Anytime, buddy." His driver patted the paintwork. "Anytime."
xxxxx
It came suddenly.
A roar of compressed air, the familiar sing of turbines, and suddenly he was surrounded by upholstery.
Kitt?
Oh, god, no!
"Kitt! Noooooooooo!"
His voice was stolen from him by the wind.
xxxxx
Devon was walking up to the podium when Kitt contacted him urgently via the comlink. "Michael, there is an armed man approaching behind the hedge to the left of the crowd."
"What! Alert security!"
Michael had the advantage of his height as he peered out over the people surrounding him. The hedge was only a short one, bordering the property and meeting up with the concrete railing that lined the edge of the cliff that gave the grounds such a spectacular view of the ocean.
There was no sign of activity, but he made his way in that direction anyway, his eyes tracking the location of Devon, Bonnie, and other notables in the massing group of people.
The sun was heading towards a brilliant set in the background, the calm sea a beautiful backdrop to the ceremonies, the warm air fragrant with midsummer scents.
"Michael, he is readying his weapon. He's...Devon!" He didn't ask for clarification, he didn't need it. He hurried forward, dodging between guests.
"Ladies and gentlemen, I would like to welcome you to the fifth Annual Foundation Charity Dinner to be held here on these grand grounds, sponsored by Mr and Mrs Hammond." Applause erupted all around at Devon's announcement as the honoured hosts rose and bowed politely.
"Kitt, I'm going to need a distraction."
Almost immediately he heard his partner's engine roar into life, much to the surprise of those people standing next to him.
"Other honoured guests we have here this evening include the Mayor John Coltrane and his wife, Elizabeth." Applause. "Senators Robbins and Sinclair, and Mrs Jane Clementine, Chairperson of the Foundation's Educational Services." More applause. "I would also like to take this opportunity to introduce to you all the flagship team of the Foundation for Law and Government. Michael Knight and his partner, the Knight Industries Two Thousand."
Michael made it to the hedge.
And suddenly every eye in the vicinity was on him.
He glanced up at Devon.
That moment of inattention was all it took.
"Too slow, Knight." The voice was a hiss. And familiar.
A man rose from behind the hedge, stepping over it, and Michael found himself staring down the barrel of a gun. Who?
The face was also familiar, but elusive. "Step back. I have business with your boss."
There was no way he was going to let...
"No."
"Michael..." Devon's voice echoed in the sudden silence behind him.
"No."
Michael placed himself in the sniper's direct line of sight, in front of the more distant Devon. He could hear a woman sobbing.
The eyes peering above the barrel taunted his memory. Who? They flickered.
"Fine. If I can't go around you, I'll go through you." Michael moved. The gun went off. Someone screamed.
Shock. Surprise. It was a fundraiser, for crying out loud!
Pain.
His legs began to fold.
The gun aimed again. Where the hell was security?
Aimed at Devon.
No.
He flung himself forward, shoving at the man, hands clawing at his jacket. "No!" Too fast, too fast.
The rumble of a surging engine.
He desperately attempted to use his body mass to pull the man down as his strength left him, but the assassin was far from weak, a solid man, as equal to Michael in weight if not height.
How the hell had he gotten in here?
The man swore as he pushed Michael aside, bringing his weapon up again.
Michael dug his heels in and spun him around. Where was security!
They almost went down together, limbs tangled, but the other man caught himself, and flung Michael towards the railing.
Oh shit!
He sideswiped an elegantly arranged tower of champagne glasses. It rained sparkling wine.
The concrete balcony came up against the back of his legs, but he was too tall.
"Michael!"
The world disappeared beneath him.
xxxxx
Kitt angled himself and his body between Michael and the fast approaching waves, rocks, and certain death. He had both ejector seats fully extended, suspension primed, tyres rigged to deflate, anything to reduce the impact on his driver.
Michael was screaming his name.
Sandstone cliff flew past.
He fired all boosters.
The sea hissed.
And then the world came up and hit him.
xxxxx
End Part 1