"Those who have the ability to take action, have the responsibility to take action."

I would like to thank my dear friends,
Angel O’Hare, Karen Page, Joni W., Annette MacGregor and Holly H Heart
for their kindness, help, support, and input.

Education in the Hills
Chapter 33

By Penny Reed Cardon

Thursday, January 13, 2005

The week went by quickly, with only a couple of things that were out of the ordinary. The first was, with everyone reading through the news articles that Aaron's program had been flagging, the short morning meetings weren't so short anymore; and someone nicknamed them the 'Pilot's Briefing'. That sort of seemed appropriate, we were called the Black Sheep and they were the pilots. The pre-flight briefing where they discussed their plan of attack was called pilot's briefing and we were planning an attack, of sorts. So I guess it sort of made sense, in a strange roundabout way.

The other big event that week, occurred during the Thursday morning briefing. Mostly the reports from the previous day’s news article readings were pretty much the same. With Aaron calling through each of our names, the replies went something like this:

"Jenny?"

"I read twenty articles, I have nothing to report."

"George?"

"Eighteen, Sorry, nothing."

"Sue?"

"I read twenty-five, with one possible match."

The article would then be read out loud and discussed to see if it was truly what, or rather who we were looking for.

So far we had been unsuccessful. Aaron's program had flagged over two-thousand articles that matched the search parameters. So far, as a group, we'd read and reported on something over fifteen-hundred.

Then, rather unexpectedly, on Thursday morning, when Aaron called for Hope's report:

"I read twenty-five articles, and I have one that's kind of a match; but I'm not sure. It's for a family from Chicago, the Santino's.

'Police were called to the estate of Mr. and Mrs. Walter Santino Wednesday morning when their private security company called for assistance. When the police arrived, the main floor of the two-story, Victorian mansion, appeared to have been ransacked, although numerous works of art were still hanging and there were a number of gold and silver statues left untouched.

Missing are; June Santino, brunette hair, hazel eyes, twenty-eight, one hundred ten pounds, and stands five foot three inches. Walter Santino, bald, stands six foot seven inches tall and weighs four hundred pounds."

"Gees, I wouldn't want him mad at me," Misa interrupted. Several others made similar comments, agreeing with Misa’s sentiment.

Hope continued reading the article, "They have a son, also named Walter, age nine, black hair, brown eyes, and a mole about an inch below his right ear. Police are treating this as a triple abduction. However, we have an unconfirmed report that would indicate the police have little hope of finding the Santino family."

"There was an article in the same paper, several days later, that went on to say that Mr. Santino was under investigation for dealing in drugs, prostitution, child pornography, and several other assorted charges. The investigation was dropped when the family disappeared, it was speculated that they were eliminated by a rival mob family."

"They disappeared in March of 2000. There is a picture of the family with the first article; however it's not a very good one." Hope came over and handed the article to me, as she continued. "Everything fits except the age of the son; he was nine when they disappeared."

"That explains a lot of things, like why he was so much bigger than everyone else," I commented when I saw the picture. "And, that's the same place that Bart has a mole."

Mary Beth gasped slightly and added, "I've never met Bart's dad, and now I wouldn't want to."

"I only saw him once, just after they'd finished terrorizing Principle Purcell, when we were in first grade. I thought Bart's dad looked like a very big football player."

"You mean?" Aaron asked.

"Everyone, allow me to introduce the terror of Whittier Elementary School, Bartholomew Roberts and his horrible parents," I proclaimed as I turned the picture for everyone to see.

"My friends we've done it, we're smarter than the US Marshal's," Howard proudly proclaimed. "Now that we know more than they do, what do we do with it?"

"Well, RJ is supposed to be setting up a meeting for me, with . . . somebody. I'll be explaining to them about the changed information, basically give them a rundown on everything I've found, including this new information. I guess the plan is that they will do something about Bart and his family. Well, I guess that's really Walter and his family."

I should have been excited with the discovery of Bart's real identity, but I had been having a hard time getting excited about anything in the last week or so. Topping off everything else, Ellen had scheduled an extra section with just me, Friday morning, and I had a hunch I knew what she wanted to talk about.

Friday, January 14, 2005

"Come in," Ellen called out, after I'd knocked on her office door. I really didn't want to, but it seemed like I didn't have a choice. After all, it wasn't like I could really hide anywhere. The snow maze would have been good, but with the locator system it seemed pointless.

"Good morning Matilda. Why don't you have a seat on one of the couches, I’ll be with you in a moment."

I didn't really respond to Ellen's greeting. I nodded an acknowledgement and went to the couch that was farthest from Ellen's chair. As time went by, I was building a very profound dislike for quiet rooms. Anytime I moved the crinkle noise, from my pull-ups, echoed off the walls, at least that's how it sounded to me.

I had just crinkled my way to a seated position ,when Ellen got up and disappeared into the closest, off to one side of her office. When she re-emerged, a few moments later, she was carrying a strange assortment of items; a fresh box of tissues, two glasses, a package of Oreo's, a half gallon of milk, two hand towels, and a small box. What was more surprising was that she arranged everything on the coffee table, in front of me. Then Ellen joined me on the couch, instead of sitting in her usual chair.

When Ellen was seated, she opened the milk and filled both glasses. Next she opened the Oreo's. After spreading one of the hand towels across my lap, "Just in case," she commented, she handed me a glass of milk and a stack of cookies.

We spent the next forty-five minutes dunking Oreo's and discussing a wide variety of subjects. After which, I reluctantly had to admit to Ellen, and myself, that I'd had my fill of milk and cookies. I gently worked my way off the couch, placing the glass and hand towel on the table.

Before I had a chance to get back onto the couch, and before I realized what was happening; Ellen had suddenly scooped me up and I found myself in a seated position on her lap. I gasped at the sudden motion. Before I could say anything, Ellen was brushing some stray hairs out of my eyes and gently talking, "Now then, my little Munchkin, stuffing you with milk and cookies hasn't caused any hidden secrets to spill out. So I guess I'll have to be more direct, why don't you tell me what's bothering you?"

I was so shocked by Ellen picking me up, setting me on her lap, gently stroking my hair, and calling me by my nickname; which was something that Ellen never did, that I completely missed that she'd called me little.

"I don't know what you're talking about, I'm fine," I mumbled, trying to bluff my way out.

"Oh, you don't know what I'm talking about? Let me see if I can explain myself, so there won't be any misunderstanding. I've been getting reports from your teachers that you don't participate in class discussions, that you mope around most of the time, that you have been trying to isolate yourself from the rest of your year by sitting as far away from the others as possible, and I've even been told that you were gruff with Mary Beth. So, I want to know what's making everyone’s favorite Munchkin so unhappy."

"Mary Beth said I was gruff?" I asked in surprise.

"No, Mary Beth hasn't said anything about you being gruff. When I visited with her, she said you seemed to be a lot more quiet than normal and wouldn't talk with her about what was bothering you. She seemed to be hurt by your silence, and was wondering if you were keeping secrets from her again. The report about you appearing to be gruff came from someone else."

"I guess saying that ‘I don't want to talk about it’, isn't going work?"

"Not a chance, especially not after stuffing you with my favorite cookies and milk."

"Thank you, they were yummy."

"You're welcome, and don't try changing the subject. Let's start with a simple question, are you keeping secrets from Mary Beth?"

"No, no secrets."

"But you haven't told her why you've gone from happy and bubbly, to sad, mopey, and depressed, in just a few short weeks."

"Well, not directly. I mean, she's with me almost all the time, I just figured she knew."

"Well, I'm not with you all the time. So, why don't you tell me why you're so depressed?"

I was looking into Ellen's eyes as she asked me to tell her why I felt so depressed. I mean, there I was, sitting on her lap, crinkling any time either of us moved, and she didn't know why I was sad and depressed. I hung my head in shame. I couldn't bear to look at her as I mumbled, "I can't control my bladder, so I can't get out of these lousy diapers." It was then that I started crying. Not only was I incapable of controlling a few tiny muscles, I was forced into the humiliating situation of talking about it.

I hadn't looked up, so I didn't know what Ellen's initial reaction was. At least her clock was ticking, so the room wasn't completely silent.

"Is there anything else that's troubling you?" Ellen finally asked, as my crying started to subside.

"Isn't that enough?" I said, between sniffles, almost getting angry.

"Matilda, forgive me if I sound insensitive, but you're not the only person at this school who has trouble holding their water."

That one statement caught me by surprise, " I - I'm not?"

"No Matilda, you're not. Let me approach this a little differently, you have trouble with your ears, in that you don't hear tones correctly. Do you consider that condition a nuisance or a handicap?"

I thought about it for a moment, as I blew my nose, "I guess I'd say that it's a nuisance. I mean, I can hear pretty well, it's just mixed up a little."

"A very good answer. I assume that you'd consider it a handicap if you couldn't hear, is that correct?" I nodded in reply. "Would you be able to play the glockenspiel if you were deaf?"

"I don't think so," I timidly replied, while wondering if that was a trick question.

"Why not, you've admitted that what you do is just a matter of timing and hitting the correct key?"

I didn't really have an answer for that one.

Ellen set me on my feet and invited me to join her at her desk.

"I'd like to show you something," she said, moving her mouse to wake up her computer. She had a video queued up and pressed play. What I saw was an incredible performance by a young lady on a xylophone.

"I can see you are impressed by Evelyn Glennie. Would you be surprised if I told you that she is deaf?"

I could tell that my eyes had grown to about twice their normal size. "She's deaf?" I stuttered.

Ellen pressed play again. The camera zoomed out to reveal Evelyn's feet; stockings, but no shoes.

"Yes Matilda, Evelyn is deaf. She feels the music with her feet."

I was somewhat stunned as Ellen led me back over to sit on the couch, separately.

"So, perhaps you could answer some questions. Does the fact that you currently have a little problem holding your water prevent you from walking, or talking, or interacting with others?"

"No."

"Has your problem prevented you from going swimming each Saturday morning, with your classmates?"

"No."

"Does your problem directly interfere with your classes, or your ability to learn new things?"

"No."

"Are you capable of giving more than single word answers?"

"No - I mean, yes. You tricked me with that one."

"Possibly, but you seemed to be stuck in a rut. So then, when all is said and done, is the fact that you're having trouble holding your water a nuisance or a handicap?"

"It's just a nuisance." I reluctantly replied, realizing how self-centered I'd been.

"So answer this question, does something that is only a nuisance warrant being so depressed?"

"No Ellen, it doesn't. I guess I've been acting stupidly."

"I wouldn't say you've been acting stupidly. Overly sensitive about your condition and with a personal revulsion towards a particular form of protection perhaps, but I wouldn't say stupidly."

I didn't have a reply, so Ellen continued, "Now that we established that your problem is only a nuisance, let's talk a little about your problem. I told you before; I consider it a medical problem and would leave it between you and Dr. Harris. However, your depression has told me it's time for us to talk about it. For me to understand the situation better, I'll need to ask some personal questions and I need you to answer honestly. Are you ready?"

I knew this was going to be embarrassing, but I nodded my consent.

"So tell me, about how many pull-ups do you use a day?"

"Usually only one, occasionally two," I sheepishly replied.

"Really, one and occasionally two? Most people would consider that quite an accomplishment. How often do you know that you've accidentally released urine?"

"Three times a day, sometimes five or six. It depends on what's going on and how far away from a restroom I am."

"Three to six times a day, but you're only changing one to two times a day. I must ask, how much is released each time?"

"I don't really know how much, enough that I'd have to go change, if I were wearing panties."

"I see. Tell me; since you came back from Quebec, have you completely soaked the pull-up, like when you were in Sally mode?"

"Only a couple of times," I shamefully replied. "Each time I'd been distracted and I didn't get to the bathroom, especially the first thing after getting out of bed." I really didn't want to admit Mary Beth had been the distracting influence.

"So tell me, what's worse, changing your clothes several times a day, along with the embarrassment of having wet yourself, or wearing something to protect your clothing, thereby saving you from some embarrassment?"

"The embarrassment of having wet clothes would be worse."

"I would agree. Now then, having a medical problem, that requires the wearing of something to protect your clothes and prevent embarrassment, is a nuisance and not a handicap, correct?"

"That's correct. As much as I dislike the pull-ups, they are just a nuisance and I'm being over sensitive."

"And being depressed about something that's merely a nuisance is?"

"It’s unproductive and childish. Which is not to be confused with committing a childish prank."

"Very good Matilda, on all three points. So, you're not going to be depressed about wearing some form of protection?"

"No. No more depressed Munchkin."

"And you're not going to separate yourself from your classmates?"

"No."

"And you're going to be cheerful and participate in class?"

"Yes."

"And you're not going to be gruff with Mary Beth?"

"But I wasn't . . . okay, no being gruff with Mary Beth."

"Excellent, from everything you've told me, I think it's time for you to graduate,"

"Graduate, from what?"

"Graduate from wearing protection against complete loss of bladder control, to protection against minor loss of bladder control."

I looked at Ellen, shaking my head, in complete confusion, as she picked up the small box, which she'd placed on the coffee table.

Ellen sat back and smiled, holding the box in her lap, "Matilda, it used to be that when a girl reached the age of about ten, her mother would have a talk with her and explain to her about the changes her body would soon be undertaking. More recently, the public school systems are taking on the role of educating girls about their bodily functions and the different sanitary products that are available. Do you have any idea what I'm talking about?"

My answer was simple; I shook my head.

"I can see you're not going to make this easy on me," Ellen bemoaned. "I'm not going to go into all the details right now, you'll learn those in the first of your Life Skills classes in the spring. For now, all you need to know is, there are a number of products used by women, and girls, to protect their clothing. Likewise, there are a number of products used by people with bladder problems, to protect their clothing."

Ellen opened the box and handed me a small - - something.

"This is the smallest pad available. I'm guessing it will still be a bit large for you, but it should be more discreet and more in line with your current needs."

"What is it," I timidly asked.

"Technically speaking, it's an incontinence pad. I like to think of it as more like a panty liner. Just tear open the paper cover and take out the pad."

Hesitantly, I did as instructed, as Ellen continued, "Okay, now unfold it. That's right. Now, smooth it out a bit to take out the crease and folds; that's right, just like that. Now, you see the paper on the one side? That's right; pull the paper off. The sticky stuff is what holds the pad in place, in the gusset of your panties. Any questions so far?"

"So, with these pads, I don't have to wear the pull-ups anymore, I can go back to wearing panties?" I gleefully asked.

"That is correct, Matilda, you don't have to wear pull-ups anymore. You know, for being as smart as you are, you're sure are slow sometimes."

"It’s not that, I'm just a little confused. First we talked about wearing the pull-ups as being a good thing and I shouldn't be depressed about wearing them. So, in my mind I was trying to convince myself that it was going to be a long term requirement and instead of being sad, I should forget about them and make the most out of life. Then you do a one-eighty on me and show me an alternative that I never knew existed. It may seem silly, but I'm wondering if there is another one-eighty coming at me, just around the corner."

"Well, you can never tell about tomorrow, it's usually full of surprises. As for today, why don't you take this box down the hall to the restroom and make a little change," Ellen said. With a smile she handed me the box.

Looking in the box, I discovered a couple more pads and at least one pair of panties. Putting the lid on the box, I happily hopped off the couch and started towards the door. I almost didn't notice the crinkle, as I moved.

"Matilda, I have one more item to discuss before you leave. That school rule you discovered, a few months ago, that caused you and Mary Beth so much grief."

I froze in my tracks as Ellen started speaking, slowly turning to face her, again. "I remember."

"There was some misinterpretation on our part. It appears there was no reason for us to attempt to prevent you from seeing your mother."

My eyes grew three sizes and my heart started racing, "You mean that, that horrible rule has been rescinded?"

"No, not rescinded, just clarified. It takes effect after the students graduate. The rule is normally explained to the other students at the conclusion of their Year D. The need for secrecy is clearly explained to everyone and without exception everyone, up until now, has agreed to maintain the secrecy of the school, for the good of everyone concerned."

"So, I still have secrets to keep," I complained.

"That is true, but not from Mary Beth."

"I guess that's some consolation. Anything else?"

"From my experience, it takes a little pressure for the adhesive to stick; one hand inside and one outside usually does the trick."

Nodding, I left Ellen's office. I put the thoughts of the 'No contact' rule out of my head, for the time being, as I almost ran down the hall and burst through the restroom door. I already had my hands under my skirt, as I scanned for other occupants. After I'd confirmed I was alone, I ripped apart the sides of the pull-ups. As they fell away I heaved a sigh of relief as the cool air swept under my skirt, chilling my hot clammy skin. For a time, I was tempted by the thought of slipping outside with nothing on under my skirt. However, owing to a strong sense of modesty, instilled by my mother's teaching, and not wanting to hear Ellen's lecture on the subject if I were discovered, I decided to refrain from such a reckless course of action. Instead I stepped into a stall and gently fanned my skirt back and forth until the accumulated perspiration was gone and my skin had returned to its normal temperature.

'How long was I tempted to run outside with nothing on under my skirt, I heard one of you ask? 0.625 seconds . . . almost an eternity.'

Following Ellen's recommendations, after using the facilities, I gently slid the panties up my legs, unwrapped one of the pads, stuck the pad in place, and then proceeded with the ritual Miss Adams taught me. All in all I felt pretty good about the whole thing. The pad was far less bulky between my legs and with very little effort I could almost completely ignore their presence. The pads were kind of long, covering more of my panties than I thought was necessary. Then again, the pad didn't crinkle and it did a much better job of holding things in place, than the pull-ups did.

I was a bit giddy, as I left the restroom. It was at that moment I realized I'd forgotten something important. I turned around and skipped down the hall. Stopping at Ellen's office, and without hesitation, I once again knocked on the door.

"One moment please," came the response.

Cheerfully, I bounced around the in hall, waiting.

A few moments later I heard the familiar, "Come in."

I didn't know if Ellen was alone or not, so I slowly inched the door open, cautiously peaking in as the gap widened. Eventually I spotted Ellen, sitting in her chair by the couches, her back towards the door. Not seeing anyone else in the room, I slipped inside and skipped towards Ellen. As I rounded the corner of her chair I discovered that Ellen wasn't alone, Kimberley was sitting in just the right position that she was completely hidden by Ellen. It didn't matter to me that Kimberly was in the room, I was already committed on a course of action and I just went with the flow. I leaned in across the arm off the chair, threw my arms around Ellen's neck, and planted a kiss squarely on her cheek.

"What was that for?" Ellen asked, as I was backing away.

"I forgot to say thank you," I sheepishly replied.

"Well, I haven't had anyone say thank you like that for a long time. You're welcome, Matilda."

Smiling, I turned to leave.

"What was that all about?" Kimberley asked.

"Let's just say that Sally has finally gone home and we have our Munchkin back." I heard Ellen reply, as I pulled the door shut.

After leaving Ellen's office, I headed back to the Year A lounge. I made a quick detour up to my room to put away the rest of the pads Ellen had given me. To my surprise there was already a full package of pads in my closet, next to the partial bag of pull-ups.

'My goodness these people are efficient, scary, but efficient.'

I sat close to Mary Beth when I arrived in the lounge, perhaps a little too close.

"What's up?" she whispered.

"What do you mean?"

"Don't give me your innocent, 'What do you mean?' look. Something's changed. What?"

I learned in, and whispered in Mary Beth's ear, "I'll explain everything later." Before I sat back, and before she could react, I quickly planted a tiny kiss on her cheek.

"Now, now, no smooching in the lounge," Hope proclaimed light heartedly.

"Eeewww," was Howard's comment.

"Get a room," added George.

Being that Mary Beth was blushing, I replied to our professional hecklers in a very adult manner. I made a silly face as I stuck out my tongue.

I turned to Mary Beth and apologized for kissing her in public. Then I moved a little, putting more space between us.

It wasn't until just before going to bed that Mary Beth and I had some private time to talk. We had both changed into our chosen nightwear and had finished reading our scriptures when she asked, "So, what's up? And don't try telling me it's nothing, because you've been acting differently since your appointment with Ellen."

"Really, I've been acting differently? Different how?"

"Don't you start that with me, I know you too well. Now, if you don't tell me what's going on, and I mean right now, I'll pull you across my lap and pretend your padded bottom is a set of bongos."

Quickly, I hopped off the couch and skirted around so the coffee table was between us. "Easy now, let's not get excited. There's no need to get physical."

I didn't waste any time as I undid the sash of my robe, showing Mary Beth the pink satin, baby doll, nightie I was wearing, of course with the matching panties.

Mary Beth seemed to be shocked by my sudden exhibition. However, it only took her a moment to recover, "Matilda, I thought you weren't going to wear a short nightie as long as you had to wear . . . Hey, you're not wearing the pull-ups. Yesterday you were moaning about never getting out of them. What gives?"

Secure in the feeling that my bottom was no longer in danger of being bongoed, I rejoined Mary Beth on the couch. It didn't take long to go over everything that Ellen and I had talked about. I even handed Mary Beth one of my new pads so she could see I wasn't keeping any secrets from her.

Mary Beth seemed a little sad as she asked, "So, this means you won't be using the pull-ups anymore?"

"It means, that I don't have to wear anything I don't want to wear. However, I did tell Ellen that there have been a few mornings where I didn't get to the bathroom quite fast enough and was glad I had them on. So, the pull-ups will still be in my closest, available if I think I might need them. Of course, I didn't tell her it was you that was distracting me, keeping me from the bathroom."

"Me? But, I never -"

I quickly interrupted, "Yes, you! When you wake up before I do and we start talking, first thing."

'Or when I pretend to be sleeping, while you were gently stroking my back and diapered bottom.’ I thought to myself, smiling.

"Fine, I'll never talk to you in the morning again," she professed, with just a little bit of 'I'm hurt' in her voice.

Moving closer, I took her hand in mine. Smiling, I replied, "Yes you will; sometimes I'll have a problem, sometimes I won't, and that's okay. Because Ellen is right, being sad and depressed because I've got a few weak muscles is silly. What's worse is sharing that depression with you and everyone around me. So no more Miss Sourpuss for me, it's more fun being happy. On top of everything else, you have to admit one thing, I may not like the fact that I'm a short 46 pound weakling, and a few muscles may be weaker than the rest, but at least I'm a smart 46 pound weakling."

It took Mary Beth a few moments to control her laughing so she could reply, "Well, I'll admit that sometimes you're a smart-alec."

"Alec? I don't know anyone named Alec. Has someone adopted a new name?"

"Now don't start that, it's late and I'm too tired to start playing your silly games." she said with a smile. "Now, off to the bathroom with you, then into bed."

Agreeing with Mary Beth's request, I hopped off the couch and then turned to offer her a hand, to help her up. Leaving her to deal with the bed and blankets, I skipped into the bathroom to take care of my last minute needs.

Leaving my robe on the back of the bathroom door, I went to join Mary Beth in bed. 'It feels really good to be wearing baby doll pajamas again. I'm not sure why I refused to wear them while I was wearing the pull-ups, the matching panty would provide enough coverage. I guess it was just that silly depressed state I was in that stopped me. Well no more depression and I'll only wear long nightgowns in the winter, when it's cold, or if we're having a sleepover in the lounge. I wonder how shocked, or pleased, Mary Beth would be if I wore a baby doll with a pull-up, but without the matching panty? I may try it sometime just to see her reaction.'

Saturday, January 15, 2005

RJ and I had spent most of Saturday morning going over my presentation. He taught me what information would impress people, who were less computer literate, and what information would fly so far over their heads they couldn't reach it if they stood on their chairs. After all was said and done, we'd cut what would have been a two hour technical presentation down to a twenty minute Power Point slideshow, but RJ assured me they would understand everything.

"Are you ready for this?" RJ asked.

"I suppose so. I mean, I'm not really sure why I have to be here. You can show them the information, the holes in the data, and that the files from the US Attorney General's office aren't the same as the US Marshal's office," I nervously replied.

"Yes, I can show them the information. But, you're here to answer any questions they may have."

"Answer questions? Are you saying that you wouldn't be able to answer their questions?"

"I'm sure I could answer most of their questions. Although, the question of why we started looking at the data has more of an emotional answer, don't you think?"

"I suppose you're right about that. If I weren't trying to help my friends, get rid of a monster, nobody would have any reason to have dug into those files as deeply as I did."

"That's right. So you're here to convince them that getting involved is the right thing to do."

"Okay," I sighed heavily. "Bring ‘em on."

"That's my girl."

At ten minutes before two, RJ took me to the auditorium. In the middle of the stage was a table with what appeared to be a new laptop computer, with two spotlights shining out of the overhead beam ports. RJ instructed me to wait there and he'd return in ten minutes. Well, well, ten minutes alone with an unknown computer, what did he expect me to do? Of course, I did what comes naturally, I started exploring.

I was surprised; I'd never seen a naked, barebones, system before. There was nothing installed but an operating system and MS Office. 'That explains why RJ had me save all the documents we decided to use as jpeg's and why we created the PowerPoint slideshow.'

Interestingly, there was also a wireless network running, and it was linked to twelve other devices. I thought it strange that I didn't recognize the network name. With PDA in hand I scanned for available networks, sure enough it showed up on the list. The network was shown as locked which wasn't surprising. None of RJ’s regular network passwords worked. I started my usual technique for cracking the code when I realized I'd set off a mine. RJ now knew what I had been trying to do. Knowing I was busted, I backed out so I could start afresh.

I had about five minutes before RJ would return when I noticed that the Bluetooth on my PDA detected another device. A few keystrokes here and a few keystrokes there, and I'd linked my PDA to the computer. I realized that it isn't always necessary to go in via the front door, especially if the back door is standing wide open. A couple of dozen keystrokes on the computer’s keyboard and my surprises were ready.

I had been sitting quietly, with my hands in my lap, for all of about thirty seconds when I heard a door open. A rectangle of light appeared at the back of the auditorium and I counted thirteen silhouettes as they passed through the backlit portal. The door closed and the back of the auditorium was once again completely dark. Moments later I saw a soft glow of light appear, then another, and another, until there were twelve glowing lights scattered in the darkness. They reminded me of fireflies on a moonless night, only these lights weren't flittering around. Of course, it wasn't a moonless night and they weren't fireflies, but at the time the imagery was surprisingly comforting.

Slowly I reached for the keyboard; tapped in a six-character command code, pressed enter, and closed the command prompt window. I smiled to myself, knowing that the microphones on the twelve PDA's were being activated and even the faintest whispers were being recorded, so I could study the voices and conversations later.

It was about two minutes later that RJ emerged from the darkness and came up on stage. "Won't you join me, Matilda," RJ said, as he walked in front of the table. I got up and walked around the table to stand beside RJ.

"Ladies and gentlemen," RJ started. "Allow me to introduce, Matilda."

"Hey RJ, are you joking with us again? That LITTLE girl can't be more than five years-old," someone called out.

RJ quickly moved out of range, as I growled.

Trying to defuse the situation RJ quickly continued, "I assure you, Matilda is ten years-old. I would also ask that you not refer to her using that word, she does take offense, at being referred to in that manner. She may be small, but she has a big heart and will go out of her way to help someone in need."

As RJ was talking, I went back to the computer and checked the PDA recordings. Finding out which PDA recorded the snide comment about my size was an easy matter, so was sending a reboot command. I looked up and smiled as I saw one of the firefly lights go out.

The same voice started to complain, "RJ, This PDA just died, what kind of shoddy equipment did you give us? Wait a second, its coming back on, like it just rebooted itself or something."

RJ scowled at me. I smiled innocently and sat back in my chair.

"The battery must be loose in that unit," RJ answered the complainant. "I'll have to take a look at it later. For right now, Matilda came to me with some unusual information, and I thought it best if she presented it to you. Matilda, any time you're ready."

As Robin Williams said once, 'It's show time.' "Thank you, RJ. As some of you may not be aware, I came to Immigration Manor from a school that was being bullied and terrorized by one boy and his equally horrific parents. No one seemed to be able, or willing, to put a stop to their reign of terror. It almost appeared that they were being protected by some authority, higher than the local or state law enforcement. My first day here, my younger sister was brutally attacked and almost killed by the same bully. She is still confined to a bed in this school’s hospital. In an attempt to see that justice is done, and to protect the other school children in the area where I grew up, I started doing some research concerning the bully of Whittier Elementary School and his family. What I discovered, I feel, is rather alarming."

At that point I started into the presentation that RJ and I had prepared. When I concluded, I politely inquired if anyone had questions that they would like to ask.

"That is rather a lot to absorb in one sitting. RJ, have you verified all of the data that Miss Matilda has just presented?" One person asked.

"Yes I have, both the material she has just presented and the rest of the supporting data. All of which is completely accurate," RJ replied simply.

"There was more data? Why wasn't it presented?" A different person wanted to know.

"The rest of the data consisted of the technical details, exactly which systems, what information found, what files were used for comparison. If we had included all of the data, the presentation would have exceeded two hours," RJ explained.

"That's quite all right dear boy. I found the presentation to have been more than adequately detailed. I don't know about the others, but I'm quite convinced that you ‘Yanks’ have a serious problem brewing, a very serious problem indeed," commented a third person, with a very British accent.

"Yes. Quite enough detail," yet another person replied. "RJ do you really expect us to believe that this little - um, young lady actually came up with all of this on her own?"

I spoke up before RJ could reply, "Would everyone who does not believe I can do what I said I have done, please raise your hand." I paused for a moment. "Oh I'm sorry, I forgot about the lights being off."

I stood up and moved away from the table and the laptop. "Computer, house lights at ninety percent please," I commanded.

Instantly, all the lights in the hall came on. There was quite a bit of commotion, complaints, and grumbling, when everyone's eyes were suddenly stabbed with an unexpected amount light.

I took a quick scan and indeed saw twelve individuals, scattered along the last row of seats. For my own reference I numbered them one through twelve, from left to right.

"That's better, now back to the question; who doesn’t believe I can do what I said I have done?"

"Matilda, what do you think you're doing?" RJ demanded.

"I'm answering the question with a question, and an example," I calmly replied.

"RJ, get these lights off!" Number 5 demanded.

RJ took a seat behind the computer and started searching for something. A few moments later he asked, "Matilda, where did you put the light control routine?"

"It's not on that computer. I didn't have enough time to break your new network encryption. The only programming there is MS Office, nothing that will control the theaters lighting. There is also the links to the twelve PDA's."

"RJ, what kind of place are you running here?" Number Seven asked.

"So, where is the lighting being controlled?" RJ asked.

"It's on the main school server, where it's always been."

"This computer doesn't have access to the main server."

"That's what I discovered."

"So how did you turn on the lights from here?"

"I didn't. I programmed the lights to come on yesterday, with a voice recognition program. I activated the overhead mics and the programming while you were out."

"So, give the command that will instruct the computer to turn the lights off."

"Oh, I can't do that."

"AND WHY NOT?"

"Because I programmed the system to recognize someone else's voice to turn the lights off."

"So, just who has to give the command?"

I turned away from RJ, to face the almost empty audience. "Is Mr. Black out there someplace?"

I heard a distinctive chuckle, then number Ten stood up. "I'm here Matilda."

"Mr. Black, thank you for coming."

"My pleasure, Matilda. I heard you were putting on a show and I figured it would be . . . interesting."

"I try, Mr. Black, I try. Apparently, like you, most of your associates like to hide in the shadows. Would you be so kind as to ask the computer to turn off the houselights?"

"Working in the shadows goes with the job, Matilda. Computer, please turn off the houselights."

Once again, my immediate world was plunged into darkness, save for the two spot lights shining on the table at center stage.

Sounding a little agitated, RJ asked the question, "I think we can now all agree that Matilda is extremely talented when it comes to computer systems, and is quite capable of getting into the systems indicated. Getting back to the matter before us; given the evidence presented I think we can agree that the Witness Protection program has been compromised. The question before us is what do we do about it?"

"The only thing that Matilda's little demonstration proved was that she knows her way around the school’s systems. I haven't seen anything that would convince me that she can get off campus, let alone get into the US Marshal's systems," a slightly angry voice bellowed.

Using my PDA, I checked the recordings that I was sending to Joshua. Once I knew which PDA the recording came through I sent a message to his screen only.

Dear Sir.
What would it take to convince you?
I now have a copy of your voice. It is running
through a voice recognition routine at this
moment. Very soon I will know who you are,
where you live, where you bank, the names of
your wife and children, assuming you have any,
every detail of your life will be open for review.

My question to you is, what would you like me
to do with that information?

Sincerely
The Evil Munchkin

P.S. My choice, would be to do nothing with the
aforementioned information, but the choice is
yours. :-)

After I sent the message I waited ten seconds, then I sent a clear screen command followed by a restart command. No sense leaving any evidence or fingerprints, someone might think I was threatening a member of the S.P.A. and we wouldn’t want that.

I set my PDA down as firefly number Seven went out.

While I'd been momentarily occupied, RJ had been discussing some of the evidence we'd presented, clarifying certain points that would validate its origin. It seems that the majority didn't want to believe that I was capable of doing what I claimed. Sadly I decided it was time to unleash my next demonstration.

Interrupting the discussion I asked, "RJ, when did you set up this computer and the wireless network?"

RJ stopped and looked at me before he answered. I'm sure he was wondering where I was headed. "I set up the system this morning, before you and I got together. Why?"

"And you left me alone with this system for how long?"

"I left you here while I went to get everyone else, ten minutes, maybe eleven."

"And there's no way I can access anything outside of this, closed, network?"

"No. There isn't a link to any outside system."

"I'm sorry to say this, but you're wrong. If everyone would pay close attention to your screens."

Using the laptop's keyboard, so everyone could see what I was doing, I opened a command window and accessed drive D, which was my flash drive. I entered the command LINKTOJ and pressed enter. Many lines of code quickly scrolled up through the command window, then the window cleared and the message LINK ESTABLISHED was displayed. A moment later the speakers on the laptop and all of the linked PDA's echoed the next line of text to appear on the screen, "Greetings Matilda."

"Matilda, what are you doing?" RJ quietly asked.

Equally as quiet I replied, "I'm teaching."

Via the keyboard I entered 'Hello Joshua.' Followed by - 'Voice only'.

"Understood, Matilda. Would you like to play a game?" came from the speakers while nothing appeared on the screen.

I replied verbally, "Thank you, Joshua, not right now. Is video one ready?"

"Yes, Matilda. Shall I run video one?"

"Yes, please."

The big screen that the school showed movies on started to come down as the LCD projector, which is always set up in the mid of the audience seating, came on and started warming up.

"RJ, what is going on?" Someone demanded.

"I'm not quite sure. Apparently Matilda has some kind of demonstration planned. I'm assuming this will demonstrate her abilities relative to computers off campus. Right now I'm more interested in how she linked to Joshua from that laptop. I know that there weren't any links outside the network I setup."

I had finished with the laptop, so I removed my USB flash drive, put it in my pocket, sat back, and waited for the show to begin. A few moments later the lights went off, leaving the auditorium in complete darkness, and the sound of violins started coming from the laptop's speakers, all the PDA's speakers, and the auditorium overhead speakers. The violins were followed by the rest of an orchestra and all of the screens displaying pictures set to music.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9ttDUGM-1mU

When the video had ended the stage lights came back on.

"Matilda, what was the point of that little demonstration?" someone asked from the darkness.

"The purpose was twofold; first, to demonstrate that I am able to extract data from computers outside of the schools networks. The 'Jazz Singer' is not in the school’s library of available movies. I found it on a private server in Maine. Most of the pictures came from the servers for Immigration Services in New York.

"Second, the people in the pictures came to America in a search for freedom, of one form or another. The people of Salt Lake have had their freedom brutally taken from them; not by an oppressive government but rather by a gangster who is being mistakenly protected by those who should be protecting the people. The people as a group don't know why their freedom has been taken; they only know that it has been taken. The only people who know why are in this school, and the only people who have the resources and means to correct this problem, to free the people of Salt Lake from the gangster’s oppression, are in this room."

"That was a very moving presentation, Matilda," came a voice from the darkness. "Unfortunately, under the rules and bylaws of our organization we are prohibited from taking direct action in this matter. The only course of action open to us is to turn this information over to our contact in the US Marshal's office, and let them conduct their own investigation into these allegations."

"Exactly what does that mean?" I asked.

"As I indicated, this information would be turned over to our contact within the US Marshal's office. They would then pass the information to their Internal Affairs division who would conduct an investigation. Those guilty would then be tried for their crimes."

"And what about the Santino family?"

"It would be the Marshal's responsibility to deal with them."

"And if word of an investigation leaks out the Santino's will take their money and disappear, laughing in the face of justice," I expounded.

"There is that risk, but that is the only course of action open to us. What money are you talking about?"

"The last time I added up the total of all the bank accounts, local, national, and international, under their various names, it was a staggering number. At last count they controlled and had ready access to approximately $23,675,982 plus change."

"I agree, that is a staggering amount. Unfortunately, there isn't anything else we can do."

Sadly, I looked at the floor of the stage for several seconds, shaking my head. The silence was almost deafening.

Slowly I lifted my head, speaking clearly I answered, "I'd hoped that things would have turned out differently." A moment later I called out loudly, "Joshua, video two please."

A moment later the stage lights went off. Two seconds after that all the different screens went black for a moment. When the screens came back on they displayed two men in the National Archives museum, standing before and looking down at the Declaration of Independence.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DPiXax0S3vY

When video two concluded, I opened a command window on the laptop and typed in the command 'Purge LJM'.

"Matilda, what are you doing?" RJ asked, while a question came from the darkness, "What was the significance of that video, Matilda?"

Turning to RJ, I replied, "Making sure I’m not leaving any fingerprints behind." Turning to face the darkness, I replied, "Gentlemen, the last line spoken made my point very clearly. Those who have the ability to take action have the responsibility to take action. Being that this body isn't able to take the necessary action to see that justice is done, someone else will have to take on that responsibility. Therefore, short of compromising the security of this school and the safety of her students, I will take whatever action is necessary to insure that the Santino's are brought to justice." After making that statement I turned and started off stage.

As cries of alarm echoed off the walls, one voice reached the stage with absolute clarity. "What are you planning to do, Matilda."

Just at the edge of the pool of light I stopped and turned back to the audience. "My plan is relatively simple, Mr. Black. I know someone, who knows someone in the Salt Lake County, Attorney General’s office. I'm pretty sure they would be interested in this information. Bart and his family will be behind bars before the US Marshal's office knows what is going on. Then the Salt Lake Attorney General's office can then pass on this information to the US Marshal's office. My question to you is, where should I transfer their money?"

"What do you mean, transfer their money?" someone asked.

"Well, if the Santino's have access to their money, they'll hire some unscrupulous lawyer who will buy an equally unscrupulous judge and they would be out on bail within an hour of their arrest. Once released from custody they will take their money and disappear. They will again assume new identities and start their reign of terror all over again. So, while the police are doing their job, I will transfer the money out of their accounts, close the accounts, in essence make it appear that they never existed. I just need to know where to send the money."

Everything was quiet for several seconds, so I concluded by saying, "Gentlemen, thank you for coming. Good day."

With that said, I made a polite curtsey and headed for the stage right, backstage, door. Nobody called my name or came after me, so I kept walking. Once outside the stage door, I leaned against a wall and took a deep breath.

'Did I really do and say all of those things, and to the people who run and control the school. I must be out of my mind. Heck, they're probably the top people in the S.P.A. at least as far as the US organization. I know you can't be expelled from Immigration Manor; they wouldn't want anyone talking about how they operate. I wonder if I should start sleeping with one eye open. One thing is for sure, Mary Beth is going to freak out when I tell her what I've done.'

* * * To Be Continued * * *

Comments are gratefully appreciated, either left below or sent to me at
[email protected]

Authors note
You Tube didn't go online until mid February of 2005. And you will note that this chapter takes place a month before that date. Therefore, Matilda would have searched the internet and put together the two videos from what she found. Being that I'm not as skilled as Matilda, I cheated by using the You Tube links. I hope you have enjoyed our little presentation.