Another BigCloset TopShelf story.

Joanie perfects her time-travel power and only causes one tiny oops in the timeline. She devises a scheme to secure her furture financially and checks in with Administration at Whateley.

Andy Warhol said,"In the future, everyone will be famous for 15 minutes." What if your 15 minutes came late in life, and fame decided to never let you go? Could you survive the circus your life would become?

Timeout-Stop/Playback/Rewind: A Whateley Academy Fan fiction

This is fan fiction for the Whateley Academy series. It may or may not match the timeline, characters, and continuity, but since it's fan fiction, who cares? To see the canon Whateley Stories, check out either Sapphire's Place,

(http://www.sapphireplace.com/stories/whateley.html) or the Big Closet (http://bigclosetr.us/topshelf/taxonomy/term/117)."

This is my first attempt a TG/sci-fi piece. Constructive criticism and advice is welcome. This for pure fun and in appreciation of the wonderful Whateley Universe. Take it in that spirit. Any violations of copyright or use of real people or incidents is for purposes of humor or parody, which saves my poor ass - oops, sorry. I love the fair use doctrine. All rights reserved in perpetuity, John from Wauwatosa WI, 2005-2006. See my agents Bill & Ted of San Dimas CA. They lost the last five chapters I sent for proof reading, most heinous.

Timeout

By John from Wauwatosa

Chapter 14-The Plan or How I got to Whateley on Budget

Madison WI — November 12, 2006 — December 13, 2006

December 13, 2006 between Dunwich, New Hampshire and Whateley Academy, 10:45am EST

Stopped off the side of the road to compose myself, I thought a bite or two of a Pearson’s Salted Nut Roll, a sip from my water bottle and a quick entry in my diary/journal/whatever would calm me. Thinking of a code name got me thinking how I’m likely to outlive everyone I’ll ever know. I guess that’s why I cried, not a good thing while riding down a narrow, winding road at 55 mph. It doesn’t pay to linger on it; maybe Whateley will help me get perspective. As to this code name idea, I understand in concept, but somehow it’s not me. Maybe I can use it to keep my pubic persona of Joanie separate from the student/staffer Timeout? Nah, I’ll stay Joanie, but Timeout can be useful when I need anonymity. Maybe it can be my security call sign or web nickname. Joan may even work.

Such a nice day for a ride, but I have a destination to reach, and Sara said the cafeteria is very good, just to be careful what you pick up as they cater to extremes of diet. The truly unusual stuff is not in the normal food lines, but sometimes they screw up.

~Let’s check the map again, I turn left at New Hampshire Hwy ... then four miles to ... got it, the route’s a piece of cake from here.~

I think I’ll call Mr. Karaoke Man and tell him no dice on a second album, at least for now. Like I need more money or publicity -- ghod he’ll probably want me on some big TV network late night talk show, not a chance in hell. The odds of me agreeing to that are about as good as my giving birth to twins in the Whitehouse, and I have yet to have sex with a man. I haven’t even found one I like enough to date, let alone you know. Get yourself established at Whateley, Joanie, then when you’re comfortable with it, you can think about guys or girls or guys and girls.

It never fails, tell a teenager not to do something, and they do the opposite, now how am I going to stop my teenaged libido from thinking about sex? Think of accounting, that’s safe, think about double entry.... Now that was a mistake; time to pack it up and say hello to Whateley.

* * * *

Cue music: Magical Mystery Tour, The Beatles; Who Are the Brain Police? and Lets Make the Water Turn Black , Frank Zappa and the Mothers of Invention; 1712 Overture, P.D.Q Bach - AKA Peter Shickele

The period from mid November 2006 to early December was one of intense preparation for my intended goal of Whateley Academy. I spent long days digging through microfilms of old newspapers, magazines, trade papers and annual reports. I compiled a list of stocks, land sales, business mergers and the like, concentrating on well known, long lived, stable corporations for the most part. I found several hundred good risks and noted when the stocks made big moves. This was critical to the success of my investment scheme.

Dear diary/journal/whatever readers, you’re saying why not just time travel to do the research, invest in a few huge companies just before they made it big, and make a killing the easy way? I know, buy a ton of HP, IBM, Microsoft, Sony and such at their inception, sit back and relax. Wrong, wrong, wrong wrong, wrong, to paraphrase Monty Python. One: time travel despite any, um personal rewards, was and is dangerous; the less I did, the less risk of mucking up the time line. I needed to be selective and discreet. Two: I needed to amass a sizable fortune to insure my long term protection, and remember I may live a very long time. I had to spread my investments widely so not to unduly affect the future economy and the time line. Duh? If I got too greedy in any one investment, it could change the future, plus draw attention to my actions. Millions or billions spread across the whole of the US economy or even just the Standards and Poor’s were drops in the ocean, in a handful of stocks, a Tsunami. And I needed sums that large, sad to say.

I continued working on my self defense and warper training. The self defense came courtesy of the Wisconsin National Guard and MSG. I was fortunate that the male members — pun not intended, but it was true - were not the least adverse to sparing with me, in fact when it came to breaking out of a persons hold, they nearly all volunteered. I learned later of the few whom didn’t --three had jealous wives or girlfriends, and for the other they said, don’t ask don’t tell. The grab-her-from-behind-across-the-chest moves seemed particularly popular. Mind you, I found it unintentionally, ah ... energizing as well. Cold showers worked for all of us — giggle - though they did exacerbate my ‘headlight’ problem. No, I didn’t shower with the guys, though they offered.

My time-stop got easier and more precise, and my ‘research’ trips, as the Gang of Four called them, got better too. Not to say there weren’t a few, ah mishaps and a lot of soaked panty liners. Nothing real serious went wrong, honest. Okay. I admit the Canadian invasion of Japan caught me off guard — just joking. Nixon winning in 1960, that I agree was a serious blunder but then Kennedy must share the blame. Served him right too, what a letch. I never should have attended that rally prior to the Wisconsin Primary. Fortunately I remembered what happened, and with Gin’s magic, we got things back on track. You’d think having a famous man make a pass at you wouldn’t cause much trouble; of course my slapping his face in that never to be famous photo didn’t help. Hey, this girl is not some cheap political groupie, the nerve of him! Anyways, he had a bad back, he’d never have kept up with me, giggle. - I just giggled in my diary again, oh dear — The press photographer was a problem but Gin had a spell to fog photographic film and saved our collective bacon.

With Sara’s and Dairy Maid’s connections, I put together quite a file on Whateley and its current head Ms Carson or should I say Miss Champion and others over the decades. This research plus Sara’s and Dairy Maid’s endorsement of the school convinced me to attend Whateley, but how and as what? I could pass for 15 or 16 with ease, but did I want to go through high school again and what after graduation? I needed something long term or at least indefinite in length.

“Whateley sounds perfect, but how do I get in?” I asked Sara, Carrie and Dairy Maid.

“We could write you a letter of recommendation, as alumna Dari — Dairy Maid’s real first name — and I have some influence.”

“I don’t know if you’d want her endorsement. “ Dari said grinning. The girl could light up a city when she smiled. “I graduated Whateley in 2000, that’s deca …” Sara looked at Dari with a “don’t go there, Girl,“ expression. “That was a number of years later, and our Sara here still had a reputation as a mistress of the practical joke, at least one of which the school head, Ms Carson, fell victim of.”

“It wasn’t anything the students at MIT wouldn’t do if they had access to a gravity inverter,” Sara said then laughed until she cried.

“You okay Sara?” I asked.

“Fine, just remembering the fun I had, you’ll love it there, Joanie. Sorry, as to getting in, I can get Dr. Otto to endorse you; he knows who you are now. Even he follows the news eventually,” Sara said.

“The problem remains, as what? I can’t be a student forever, and please, no jokes about my years in grad school,” I added.

Carrie made a comment that gave us the key. “Pity you can’t get in the way my Mom did for you.”

“What, Carrie?” I asked.

“As a visiting scholar, research assistant, staff worker, something like that.”

“You’ve got something there, Carrie, now how to make it work. It must be ironclad and reasonably permanent,” I said, Dari gave me the final piece.

“It’s unfortunate you’re not rich, or you could do like many retired politicians do and buy a chair at some university.”

“What, bribe my way in?” I said with disgust.

“Joanie, Dari means you could endow a chair at Whateley. With your gifts, the history department‘s a natural, but it takes a lot of money.”

“Why do you think I’ve done all that historic research into securities, land sales and businesses?” It hit me, Eureka! “I knew I’d need money down the line, now I know what for.”

* * * *

From late November 2006 until a week before I left for Whateley, I worked long hours implementing The Plan. Regrettably that meant no holiday ski trip but The Gang with Sara, oh my, promises to come to New England in February and party. Sara claims she’s really coming to see Dr Otto about me but that’s just for a day or two so why book a New Hampshire ski lodge for a week? The girls and I spent considerable time, whipped cream and maple syrup consoling each other over the loss of the winter road trip; I miss them already.

I researched respectable law firms and brokerages that survived and prospered over the span of my investment plan. My investments had to be done with a minimum of direct interaction on my part and sufficiently diffuse to prevent disturbing the time line by distorting the flow of capital. Calls to my dear friend Babs and Senator Joe got me a wealth of legal and business advice and gave me another excuse to talk with her wonderful children. I had to be fair and talk with Eric too. I’ve gotten to know him better, and he’s really quite a nice young man. He’ll have the pick of the girls soon. Mel, well Mel’s, Mel; how else can I describe her? I’ll miss them all, but I may chance flying out for holidays to see them and MSG. My investments should pay for private charters, much safer.

The last three weeks were a whirlwind of activity. If it wasn’t for my mutant constitution, I don’t know how I could have pulled it off -- some days I barely slept. I made many investment trips and in 1902 established The Meridian Trust, a very reputable and stable group of law, brokerage and accounting firms running it, according to a series of detailed letters I “sent” them. I was, of course, the sole owner, but that was kept deep under wraps. The multiple firms served both the diffusion goal and to keep each other honest, i.e. watch dogs to watch the watch dogs. I acquired a sizable collection of vintage clothes and accessories to facilitate my “research and investment” trips, Gin playing an invaluable role. She both assisted me on my ”trips” and as a skilled seamstress, was able to tailor the period clothes to fit us to perfection.

My various aunts, great aunts and great great aunts represented the “face” of Meridian to my proxies. Great Great Aunts Jane and Jenny followed by Great Aunts Jill, Josie and Jessie kept an occasional eye on Meridian from it’s inception through well into the 1950’s. Aunts June, Janet and Jillian brought my scheme up to the present. Odd how all the girls in the family were tall, long-haired strawberry blonds and had names beginning with “J.”

Jillian negotiated with Whateley, proposing the Meridian Chair and the fine print mandating my hiring and acceptance as part-time student. She signed the agreement a week prior to my departure for Whateley. If Ms. Carson saw through my disguise, at the Boston meeting with our lawyers, she didn’t let on. Ms. Carson was upset by the requirement that Jillian’s niece be the first holder of the Meridian Chair, but when she saw a sample of Joan’s “research” into Whateley’s and “Ms. Carson’s” past, she was impressed. It was not blackmail, just a demonstration of Jillian’s niece’s qualifications. I planned on earning my place, but it never hurts to have a fallback. As of the day before my departure, the last time I checked, my personal earnings as Joanie approached two million dollars. Meridian was worth in excess of 17 billion dollars, not bad for a month’s work.

* * * *

I considered stopping myself from meeting my Mom in the 1957, but that was pointless, the time travel paradox again. Even warning her to get a cancer checkup was out; I might never have been in Poniatowski to be mutated in the first place. I might never have saved Mel’s life, as Bill and Ted would say, bogus. Any thing that directly affected me or my past was out, the investment scheme worked because it was so indirect. Thus the irony of time travel power, it was useful to everyone except me.

I did risk one personal perk, I made several carefully prepared “research trips” and learned to whom, when and where my grandfather sold his 1915 Harley. My Great Great Aunt Jenny purchased it from the man he sold it to, “a present for my husband,” she said. Jenny rode it to a remote site “we” knew had not changed over the years, and time traveled it to the present. No sense tempting fate and crossing my own grandfather’s timeline; Mom might never be born. I wanted a tangible reminder of my heritage, and the bike did go well with my leathers. Image is important.

With practice the, um side effect of my time travel could be delayed, which made all this possible, though not eliminated or reduced in intensity. If anything delaying it made it worse, and thank Ghod for that, I’d miss it. — Why are you looking at me like that diary/journal/whatever reader? This girl just wants to have fun. Don’t groan, you knew that one was inevitable. —

* * * *
December 13, 2006 Whateley Academy, 11:05am EDT

I made it, dear diary/journal/whatever readers. I write this from my temporary room in Poe Hall, these quarters are only until they can find something elsewhere as there’s a shortage of space for transgendered students. The girls on my floor say it was a storage room a few days ago. I arrived late morning, parked my grandfather’s Harley and walked into administration, panniers in hand. A few students and staff between classes noticed my arrival but soon ignored me; guess they see a lot a strange stuff at Whateley. I walked up to one of the staff, an attractive, well dressed woman sporting a Greek alpha pin. She had her hair up in a severe bun; it detracted from what could have been an elegant look and made her, well, bitchy. I noticed the nameplate on her desk said A. Hartford.

~Joanie, shame on you, you know better than to trust first impressions. ~

“I’m here to see Ms. Carson.” The woman glanced up from her pc, looking at me dismissively. The eclectic biker gear didn’t help her perception of me a bit.

“Do you have an appointment?” she asked suffering, like I was seriously wasting her time.

“No but I am expected. Hi, my name is Joan Brown.” I put my hand out in friendship, she ignored it.

“If you’re here to interview for admission, I need to see your paperwork first.” I tried to straighten her out.

“I don’t have any paperwork thought I do have a letter for Ms. Carson. I’m not here as a student; I’m here as a new hire,” I said politely.

“You’re awfully young for a staff position; what are you, a cook’s assistant or housekeeper?” My first impression was proving sadly accurate. This woman was not getting on my Christmas card list, but I stayed patient for now.

“I’m sorry if I confused you. I’m Joan Brown, and I’m here as a student, instructor and researcher in the history department, among other duties.” I smiled sweetly.

“I don’t see a hiring memo for you, Ms Brown,” she said with some impatience and …

~Was that a touch of smug self-satisfaction? ~

“I’m a special hire direct through Ms. Carson, you may have to ask her. It was arraigned at the last minute, sorry,” I said apologetically.

“This is most irregular, I’ll see Ms. Carson, but you’d better not be lying, young lady,” She said briskly.

~Oh, young lady? I do not like her tone at all. ~

“Pompous bitc ... “I muttered.

~Whoops, almost said a bad word. ~

While Miss Priss was gone, one staffer asked, “What did you mean by ‘among other duties’?” She asked nicely, so I responded in kind.

“I’m here on a trial basis, Ms. Carson agreed to try and see where I’ll fit in. I’m also here as a student, as I’m a recent mutant, and my doctor recommended I continue my training here. She’s an alumna.”

“You look and sound familiar, but I can’t place you. What did you say your name is?” the staffer asked.

“Joan Brown, lately of Madison, Wisconsin, but you can call me Joanie.” The light bulbs over their heads flashed brightly.

“Joanie, as in the singer Joanie?” a younger staffer asked.

“Yes but don’t tell anyone; it will spoil the fun.” I smiled and giggled.

~These people are alright. ~ I giggled some more. ~Oh dear. ~

“Ms. Hartford will have kittens; she hates celebrities,” said the first staffer to speak.

“I’m hardly a celebrity, more a flavor of the month.”

“I wouldn’t call someone with two or more songs continuously in the top twenty-five for the last month and a half, a flavor of the month,” said the young staffer. They’d released some of the CD as singles, and they’d done okay.

“I’ve had some success, but it’s luck and all that accidental publicity,” I said, trying to remain modest.

I’m not comfortable with my success at all. We could hear bits of Ms. Carson’s and the pri ..., tight as ... not nice person’s conversation, and it was not a happy one.

“Joanie, that was talent that got you were you are. As to the publicity, saving that girl did the mutant community proud. You did from love and a sense of duty; I could see it in the images,” a secretary said.

“You’re one of us now, and we’re glad to have you. I’m a mutant, and I hate it when the press badmouths us. You put them in their place; I loved how you handled the press after your kidnapping. Great outfit by the way,” a cute young brunette said. Her Latino heritage was obvious.

~They must have seen me in the news and remembered it, ouch! ~

“The crinkly orange and silver Mylar wrap around or my birthday suit?” I asked.

~This is interesting. ~

“Decisions, decisions: they were both hot. Seeing anyone currently, hon?” the cute brunette licked her lips alarmingly. It was a stunning effect.

“I’ve said it before, I’ll say it again; what’s with mutants and lesbianism? Not that I’m complaining. If we’re talking boyfriends, no one currently, if we’re talking a girlfriend, that’s debatable.” I thought fondly of the rest of the Gang of Four.

“So your social calendar is open?” the Latino brunette asked.

“Possibly, I’m not certain, I just got here.” Ms. A mealworm ... Ms. Harp ... Hard ... that fu ... the imperious lady came out of Ms. Carson’s office and motioned me in.

“She’ll see you now,” then muttered something under her breath.

“Thank you, Ms. Hartford,” I said very sweetly.

I looked back as I entered the office she indicated. The staff tried not to stare and laugh but did not succeed.

~Oh, she is not gonna like me, her loss. ~

* * * *

“So you’re the mysterious Joan Brown your Aunt Jillian requested I hire.”

She was a handsome woman of indeterminate age and exuded a sense of business like authority and confidence. As we stood and shook hands I couldn’t help but think how much she reminded me of the actress from that old Wonder Woman series, Linda Carter was it?

“Have a seat, please.” I sat to the side of her desk, less formal that way. Her face lit up as I spoke.

“Thank you, Ms. Carson. I’m Joan Brown, but all my friends call me Joanie.”

“Not so mysterious as I was lead to believe. I see my staff has figured you out, Joanie.” She smiled.

“Sorry about Ms. Hartford; made a bad first impression, I guess.”

“That’s the way she is -- she’s very good at what she does but has an unfortunate attitude. Please understand she went though a harrowing experience some time ago, and it didn’t help matters any,” she said with considerable sadness.

“I’ll try not to be trouble, Ms. Carson,” I said, and smiled angelically, I thought.

She broke out in a most glorious laugh. She quickly composed herself but smiled warmly.

“Oh, I suspect you’ll be a handful. I know who and what you were and who and what you are, Joanie, everything. Dr. Sara and I had a very long phone conversation; I believe she was checking up on her younger daughter,” she said still smiling.

“Daughter?”

~What is this? ~

“A condition of your being here, I decided you needed a sponsor and emergency contact, and she volunteered. She said she often felt like your mom.”

“Sara and her daughter Carrie were very helpful to me during and since my recovery. I like the idea of her as my foster mom.”

“Mind you Ms. Babs was upset when she found she’d been beaten out but she agreed to be Sara’s backup.”

“You talked with Babs, I mean Ms. Johnson-Williams, uh Williams-Johnson too?” she had me rattled. At this rate I’d likely get Ms. Carson’s name wrong and call her Ms. Carter. I am not good at interviews.

“And her daughter Melissa, she insisted I talk with her. That girl worships you, Joanie. Ghods I wish I had her energy.” She said and laughed. I relaxed.

“I like her too, she a sweet girl.” Something clicked in my mind.

“What do you mean by everything?”

“I know your general life history, the nature of your mutation from middle aged man to young woman and your concerns for your safety. And they are justified given your kidnapping and assault. We’ll go into duties and other details tomorrow. Let’s get you settled in and familiar with the campus for now. Temporarily you’re assigned a single in Poe Hall; with your security needs off campus housing is problematic. We’re working on several on campus alternatives. As you’ve offered to be a security auxiliary, we may persuade Sam Everheart to share.”

“You’re thinking of housing me with a man?” This was a surprise.

~Ooooh, a man; settle down libido, I know the trip was hard on y ... now you’ve done it, Joanie. ~

She must have noticed the lust flash in my eyes.

“Sam is short for Samantha, and you have much in common.”

~Did Ms. Carson suppress a chuckle, hum? ~

“You’ll learn it time. I’ve called for someone to give you the quick campus tour, then escort you to your room. My staff will get you ID, so you can use the cafeteria in Crystal Hall. Welcome aboard, Miss Brown.” She stood to shake my hand again.

~Damn but she looks like Linda Carter. ~

“Oh and thank you ‘Jillian’ for the Meridian endowment and say hello to your other ‘aunts’ for me.”

“You know that? I’m impressed, Sara was right to recommend you and Whateley. I hope I’ll fit in.”

“You’ll do fine; there are others here with similar backgrounds, surprisingly. It’s our duty to insure our students acquire the skills to make it in life as a person and mutant.”

“That’s a major reason I’m here, Ms. Carson. I hope I’ll prove a good student and a useful asset on staff.”

“From what Sara said I doubt you’ll be good, but I’m sure you’ll do well.” She held in a laugh. “Babs had nothing but praise but said you have a strange sense of humor. They both told me to watch out for you, I’m not sure which way they meant it.” Now I nearly broke up.

“Thanks, Ms. Carson.”

“Thank you again for the Meridian endowment. When Ms. Hartford hears how much was donated and who the first chair is, she’ll have a whole basket full of kittens. That alone is worth having you here.” She struggled to control her laughter. “Now get out and be a girl, Joanie.”

~Now this is a woman I could like. ~

* * * *

To be continued in,

Timeout-Pause/Record/Fast-forward

Revised 09/04/2006
Special thanks to my evil blonde sister for proofing assistance.