“...I was ten, in July of 1999, like I told you. I had been raised on two things: Lord of the Rings and Star Trek. My mother had skipped the whole ‘young child picture book’ stage, and had read to me from a large illustrated edition of The Hobbit, and then had moved on to the Lord of the Rings trilogy. I read the Silmarillion when I was eight, on my own. My father had, since I was around three, sat me in front of a television and showed me taped episodes of The Original Series and The Next Generation. He taught me about technobabble, and pretty much everything Star Trek. By the time I was ten, I had been to several Star Trek conventions, could pronounce nearly anything in elvish, and had memorized a lot of absolutely useless information in both fandoms. Well, it would have been useless if I had stayed in the real world. I soon found out that my two obsessions would be extremely useful.
“When I was ten, I was also very into the internet. I could spend hours just randomly searching on Lycos for something, or reading book excerpts from Amazon. And then, one day, I was extremely bored. So, on that fateful day, I did a search for ‘“Star Trek” +stories.’
“The listings came up, and one in particular caught my eye. It stated that the story was about Geordi, my favorite character. I clicked on the link, and waited for the page to load. The page was entitled ‘Lt. Ashley’s personal log: het archive,’ and had a black background with hot pink text. These days, and even a month or so after, I would have been on my guard. However, as I was young and naïve, it didn’t bother me in the slightest. Although I have blocked out the name of the story, the plot still sticks in my memory. It was a romance. Geordi and some Trill chick named Annie. Well, first of all, the Trill’s name pissed me off, because no Trill would be named Annie. The grammar was horrible, the plot destroyed all of the characters, caused the most improbable of things to happen, and utterly disgusted me. How could anyone do this to the characters I so loved?
“That night, before I went to sleep, I wished, wished with all my heart, that I could stop that sort of sacrilege from spreading. Maybe that’s how they found me, because I wished so hard. The PPC was noticeably smaller at the time, and they were still looking to staff several different departments. I went to sleep, and I think that I dreamed of falling through a portal, one that was pale pink. I don’t know why, but that color has stuck with me since then.
“I woke up in an office, and saw a daisy in a pinstriped suit gazing back at me. I was still fairly groggy, and in my pajama pants and oversized T-shirt, so I thought that I was dreaming. That is, until he started talking.
“ ‘A little young, aren’t you,’ he commented. That finally woke me up.
“ ‘I’m ten. I’m not young,’ I muttered through clenched teeth. Did I mention that I always acted far older than I was? Well, I did. It pissed me off immensely when people assumed that since I was young, I was stupid. ‘Who are you?’ I asked.
“ ‘I am the Marquis de Sod. Director of Personnel at the Protectors of the Plot Continuum,’ he replied. ‘Well. Not threatening to murder me? No cursing muttered under your breath?’ he asked, after a pause, sounding vaguely surprised. ‘Well, you are only ten.’
“ ‘So? And what’s the Protectors of the Plot Continuum?’ I asked. I distinctly remember delighting in the fact that I could say and spell ‘continuum.’ It was another benefit of watching enough Star Trek, that you saw and heard enough about the Q continuum.
“ ‘An organization. I’ll explain in due time. Now, let me look at your information sheet,’ he replied, picking up a piece of computer printout from his desk. ‘Name: Ella Darcy. Age: ten earth years. Species: Human. Gender (if applicable): Female. Continuum(s) of expertise: Star Trek and general Tolkien,’ he read. I looked about the office as he read my file. ‘Now, what experience brought you up on our computers?’ he asked.
“ ‘Oh... um, I found this awful story about Geordi online. It was so stupid, I could barely read it. I wanted to copy-paste the stupid thing into my hard drive, and fix the grammar, or go into the actual story, and hurt her,’ I replied. I then looked up. ‘That’s not good, is it,’ I half asked, half stated.
“ ‘It’s quite good. You’ll fit right in here,’ he replied. ‘But, since you’re so young, we can’t give you any field work. How does a part-time desk job sound?’
“ ‘A what? I’m ten! I shouldn’t have a job!’ I exclaimed. ‘And what is this place?’
“ ‘I told you, the Protectors of the Plot Continuum. We are an organization to restore canon in different fandoms. We are organized into different departments, depending on what is needed. You are quite rare, as most of the people your age and a bit older are the culprits of such stories. We have assassins, desk workers, filter workers, and exorcisers.’ I must have looked confused then, because he clarified. ‘Exorcisers are experts in exorcising the demons of bad slash. You’ll find out about that later. No need to drive you insane before you’ve even read any slash. And what’s this about being ten? Weren’t you just saying how you aren’t a child? Here, fill out this application,’ he responded. He then handed me a stack of paper and a pen.
“I skimmed the application briefly. I remember thinking about how insane this was; that I wasn’t even a teenager and I had a job offer. ‘Umm... Marquis?’ I asked quietly. ‘If you accept me, what will I have to do?’
“ ‘As you will have a desk job, your responsibilities will center around the alert system. You will also undergo weapons training, because you will eventually become an assassin capable of working in several fandoms. But right now, you will be scanning the internet for stories that other agents may need to go into. You will be looking at these stories, or ‘fan fics,’ and deciding if there is enough canon destruction to warrant such measures. You will be allowed to keep a remote activator with you at all times, so you can portal yourself home at the end of your shift, and portal yourself back the next day,’ the Marquis de Sod explained.
“ ‘Okay,’ I replied, and began to fill out the form.
“ ‘Here, sir,’ I said. I placed the stack on his desk, because I wasn’t entirely sure if he had hands, or something similar.
“ ‘Good. Now, I’ll call Makes-Things in here to get you a Remote Activator. It should only take about twenty minutes to get the Activator programmed,’ he replied, before pressing a button on the desk with his leaves. I supposed that was the flower equivalent of hands and arms.
“Twenty minutes later, someone knocked on the door.
“ ‘Come in, Makes-Things,’ the Marquis called. ‘She’s not that bad. Quite sane, actually.’
“A package, wrapped in brown paper, was thrust through a cat-flap. I was extremely confused. Who was this ‘Makes-Things’?
“ ‘Very well. Thank you, Makes-Things,’ he replied. He looked at me expectantly. ‘Well. Pick it up. It’s yours.’
“ I cautiously retrieved the package and unwrapped it. Inside was my first remote activator. Not the one I use now, by any means, because it burned out in my first Star Trek BadSlash mission. Couldn’t decide whether the character was Deanna Troi or Lwaxanna Troi, as she was referred to only as ‘Troi.’ Although, neither of them were the actual slash victims. I still have it, though. Somewhere. ‘Um... how does it work?’ I asked.
“ ‘All you need to know right now is how to go from your home to here and back. Makes-Things will have wired it for you to input a target address. Just input yours, and then press the _____ button. You’ll go home. You will be e-mailed of your acceptance and specifics, such as what time to portal here,’ he commanded.
“I did so, and pushed said button. A portal opened in front of me, and I stepped through. I was back in my bedroom. I looked at the clock on my bed. 7:00. Great. I had to go to camp in two hours.
“ ‘Ella! Get up! Time to get ready for camp!’ My mom sang out, walking into my room and opening the blinds on my windows to let some light in.
“ ‘Mom... I had the weirdest...’ I paused, and looked at the remote activator in my hand. ‘It wasn’t a dream. Mom, I’m going to work for the Protectors of the Plot Continuum!’ I cried.
“ ‘The what?’ she asked. ‘Ella, what are you talking about?’
“ ‘Okay. I found this really bad story online, and I woke up in some office, and there was a talking daisy called the Marquis de Sod, and he said that I could work for the Protectors of the Plot Continuum!’
“ ‘Ella, please explain more clearly. What exactly is the Protectors of the Plot Continuum?’ she asked again.
“ ‘It’s an organization to restore original canon from bad stories. They think that I could be an agent!’ I squealed. I was so excited that I couldn’t speak coherently.
“ ‘All right, El. Just... don’t tell anyone at camp about this, ‘kay?’ she warned.
“ ‘Yes, Mom. They’re gonna e-mail me tonight about when I need to be at my job. I get to use this portal thing to go to and from the office!’ I told her; holding up my remote activator.
“ ‘Oh,’ she replied, in a tone of voice that clearly meant that this conversation was over. ‘Get ready, and I’ll make you french toast for breakfast,’ she stated and walked out of my room.
“ I placed my Remote Activator in my most secret of hiding places. Just underneath the first layer of the deep, dark, evil, sock drawer.
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