Week 2: Press One for Inconvinence

Harper had a phone number. She had important intel. Also a hangover. Quietly, the teenager wondered if drinking gasoline had actually been the good idea it seemed like at the time. She could still taste it. Sheltered from the sun beneath her duvet, Harper fumbled for her phone. It took a few moments. Fortunately she'd already saved Brock's no. as a contact, so she didn't have to punch in every one of the tiny numbers. Harper began to drift back to sleep as she waited on the PI to pick up.

Sam Brockton was surprised as his phone rang. Well, rang wasn't the right word. It was more of a bouncy pop tune. He grabbed it, not expecting any calls, and the number was unfamiliar. He paused what he was watching on his computer and flipped his ancient flip phone open.

"Brockton. What's the case?" He had so many cases going on now. Maybe two? Wow. Well, one was on his own. Either way, he waited for a response.

"Agh!" Harper groaned in response to Brock's voice, "Its the case of how you got so damn loud Samantha," the teen replied quietly. She felt that level of sass ought to be enough to identify herself to the sleuth, since her voice was a little hoarse right now. "That aside I'm calling to..." Uh, why was she calling him?

After a moment's silence Harper spoke again, "Oh right! Ow," Excitement had made her loud and rekindled her headache. More quietly she continued, "Got an update for you, although I'm not really sure it's anything to do with Amber. You should still know tho." Harper nodded to herself, face still swaddled in blankets.

Two could play at sass. He covered up the phone and spoke, so that he would be muffled but still hopefully audible. "Harper. Is that quiet enough? Are you hungover?"

He sighed. Kids today. He uncovered the phone but spoke at slightly below normal volume. "What's the scoop, then?" He poured a mug of chicken ramen.

Harper frowned into her pillow, "I think we've got a bad line Brock. I can't make out everything you're saying. Lemme know if you miss anything." The teenager yawned, covering her mouth for a moment, " 'cuse me. Okay so I'mna say some stuff right now that'll rock your worldview so, just try and bear with me. Where to start?" Harper wondered aloud.

"Alright so, portals yeah? They're real and lead to other worlds. And its like, uh, like catching a plane for the people who use 'em." This was less than 100% accurate description but whatever. "I, uh, don't really think 'we' can open them? Anyway," Harper gestured vaguely, indicating everything but to no one and nothing, beneath her sheets.

"And like money's not the, uh, um... The currency of this big city on the other side of the portal. Oh right, so theres like a hub city which sort of connects to everything through these portals. It doesn't exactly have a name? So yeah, the uh, mone- the currency isn't anything like... Money. Its memories. Which can be shared, like on twitter or facebook."

Belatedly Harper realised Sam probably didn't know what those were but she forged ahead anyway. "Or exchanged. And then you can't remember them. Pro tip? Pro tip; don't exchange a share. Everybody hates that. With me so far?" The teen asked, showing an unusual amount of consideration.

Sam pinched the bridge of his nose as Harper wondered and wandered and dumped a whole lot of strange information on him in a small amount of time. It was... what time was it? Way too early for this kid to be tripping. "Harper. Are you high? Where are you?" Where were her parents? This was ridiculous.

Portals. Hub city. Memory currency. "I know what all the words you are saying mean on their own, but I gotta say. Exchange your share is eluding me in terms of what that could possibly mean, Harpo. Are you okay?"

"Um," Harper's tone was entirely incredulous, what kind of question was that? "I'm in my room because I'm a teenager and I don't want my parents thinking I'm any crazy than they already do, okay?!" She asked, defensive but strategically neglecting to mention how she was hiding from the sun beneath her bed sheets. Harper continued, exactly as quiet and irate as before. "Aside from the aforementioned headache? I'm annoyed, now. Thanks for that Samantha," The teen replied, too hung over to come up with some new sass.

"Alright so," Harper said, before the PI could reply, "Sharing memories is like, um, downloading a podcast. You can let any number of people have a copy and still keep the original." She saw an(other) opportunity for sass. "Sorry I know you didn't quite get that, its like CC'ing someone in an email. But if you then exchange the memory you shared," Harper continued, slowly and patronisingly. "You and everyone you shared it with loses access to it. You pinched the money you paid Paul, right out of his pocket, to pay Penelope so now Paul's pissed. Yeah? Or right out of his mind, I suppose."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Who sends email anymore, Radio Disney?" He was going to sass too, apparently. He took a sip of ramen broth. "Okay. This weird thing that may or may not be real makes logical sense now." Assuming Harper isn't tripping off a bag of shrooms or laced weed or whatever kids are doing these days. Was huffing still in?

"So... no new evidence or anything? Or did you get paid in memories that can tell me something new about Amber? It's not like I'm sitting around doing nothing. I'm a busy guy." His laptop screen shut off from inactivity. He hoped it wasn't sleeping. The video would probably have to load again.

"Uh, everyone?" Harper replied, her tone subtly suggesting this was the most obvious thing in the world. It was the teenager's turn to sigh. "I didn't but, oh I'm so sorry, was a huge break in every single missing person's [persons'?] case ever not enough of a hot, hot hint for you?" Harper enquired with exaggerated sarcasm. But the teenager was smiling, she had seen an opportunity.

"Whats keeping you busy Brock? Do you have a complete case file to file?" Apparently she'd inherited a penchant for poor puns from someone. That or Harper was still hung over. "Maybe a clandestine rondevu awaits? Ohhh," The teen crooned, having lined up all her ducks in a row, "Do you need to get ready for a hot date?" Harper didn't think much of dating in general and relished any chance to mock people for caring about it, especially her own parents.

"Gonna go powder your nose?" Roasted, Harper thought, all restraint gone in the haze of her hangover. And bereft of vital context which was Sam's actual.... life. "Are you thinking of them as another femme fetale, so your hopes don't reach the Mesosphere?" Harper had to stifle a giggle, oblivious to her own nerdery.

"No. No one uses email. Email is a dead medium. It's the new phone call. Maybe you email your mom." Sam should probably email his mom. There were about 15 cop jokes and 10 pdfs of cat pictures in his inbox. "And oh, yeah. This is a real groundbreaking hint here. I'm not fully convinced you're not huffing spraypaint right now, Harper Montana." That was a reach. That was bad sass. Sam winced.

"I have a lot of cases going on right now." He looked at a missing pet flier... "And no I don't have a date. Why are you being so weird about dates? Are you still in that cooties age? I think that holistic medicine place gives cootie shots if you haven't been there yet, Nicktoons." Sam woke his laptop up again. "You have this weird habit of constantly insulting people who have offered to help you. For free, as a reminder. Maybe you should see if you can get something done about that in group, in between acid trips to the Astral Plane. Just a suggestion, kiddo."

"We're having a phone call right now Sam," Harper replied, nonplussed. "And I do email my mom sometimes. But usually its just a link to a video or something we've talked about. I mean I see her everyday." Harper wasn't sure why Brock was digging his heels in here, he was pretty patently wrong. "Sammy why would I huff spray paint? Why would anyone?" The teen asked, betraying her inexperience with illicit/ill-advised highs.

"Wait, hollistic?" Harper jumed to a conclusion and shot up in bed, instantly regretting it. Urgh, the dreaded daystar. "Oooow," The teen groaned as she collapsed back into the bed. "Oh my god Sam, you're not dating Dr. Sayer are you? No, no way," she quickly reassured herself. "She's way too nice for you," Harper stated this as a self evident fact, rather than a sick burn at Brock. Harper considered Sam's advise. "Nah, I think its just you Brock." She chuckled quietly into her phone. "You know thats how teens show friendship right?" Harper wasn't even kidding about this, seemingly unfazed by Sam's scepticism.

"Don't be so quick to discount the Astral plane Sam," she continued barely suppressing a snicker, "After all the truth is out there."

"Yeah, we are, but as proven, you are a weird kid. Also emailing your mom doesn't count. Moms definitely email." Why was Sam being do adamant? Most of his business came from phone calls. But... that was clearly different. "Do kids not do the D.A.R.E. program anymore?"

"Wow, Tiger Beat, I'm not dating Dr. Sayer. I don't even know Dr. Sayer's first name. I went in there once." Sam's self-esteem was tanking. "Hey, since you're clearly my number one source for local info, and info on other alleged dimensions, any rumors on the playground about what's with the missing pets around town? 1980s D&D-playing Satanic cult? Lady in a dalmatian fur coat? Anything?"

Mom's definitely emailed, Harper had to agree and murmured soft noises indicating such into her smart phone. "DARE?" The teen asked, puzzled. This was the sort of thing she usually looked up instantly on her phone but well. "I don't have a clue what that is Sam." Harper let Tiger Beat slide, she didn't want to admit ignorance twice in as many seconds.

Harper considered her stock of info. The PI's sarcasm wasn't lost on her but she totally was his informant on weird shit, whether he liked it or not. "Well, I think animals probably end up in the spirit world too. And they probably look different there too." Harper had no reason to tell Sam either of the things which made her think this. They were much too important to her. What else had he asked her?

"I don't know about any satan worshipping but I've actually been looking through a few D&D books. I have a theory that since people can't talk openly about the spirit world and such, they might have squirrelled away some nuggets of info in plain sight." This was the second time this conversation Harper had told Sam something she'd never told anyone else. Honestly the PI could take a little ribbing. "Wait, dalma..... " Brock could feel Harper pout through the phone. " Dammit Borck, you're making fun of me, you jerk."

"You don't? Good. It was a trash government program. One of those more harm than good situations." Sam had big feelings on drug education, apparently. How did they manage to get off topic so much?

Sam looked over at a shelf thoughtfully, looking over a few books. "You're probably onto something with the nuggets of truth in plain sight. I've certainly made use of... unorthodox reference materials a few times."

He winced at that pout. "Not making fun of you, kid. I'm just joking. Dunno if you've noticed, but I'd be shocked if you hadn't. Pets are missing. That's a real thing. Thought you might have heard something, since you seem the type to hear things. The rest was me making some relevant pop culture jokes. I need to be hip with the youth, Harper." Sarcasm was coating that last sentence.

Even the sugary sarcasm coating wasn't enough to make that super sour sentence palatable. Harper actually gagged a little, not because of how hideously dated the word 'hip' is but just that that notion exists and could be stated with sincerity. She had had other things to say, maybe a quip about more harm than good but everything else fled from that last line.

"Please don't ever say that again Sam. Even ironically, that phrase is a...." Harper searched for the term, "...." The teen tried again, "Its, a, uh..." Harper sighed at her own ineloquence. "Just... Don't. Trust me on this one."