A Timeline of Human Evolution, Exemplified by the Case Study of Dylan Gould

Chapter 4

With a promise that the world was going to be caught up in a terrible war within the decade, Dylan supposed that something like collecting cars was more than a little pointless. But he kept on -- and somehow each acquisition still felt satisfying, each completed restoration made him proud, even if he wasn't doing the work himself.

He wondered if that was how any of the others felt. Then he wondered if they even knew. They certainly carried on as if they didn't, exquisitely calm and showing every sign of continued enjoyment and pleasure in the finer things in life. He supposed he couldn't judge them for that, though; he must come off in the same way, and it was surprisingly easy to just keep living life normally. Run the business, network with people, eat, drink, sleep, and if he was going to be doing all these things anyway, why not have good food and fine wines? He'd been taught to know the value of things, and to take good care of them; if he was going to have a bed, and a couch, and a desk, why not have beautiful, good quality, comfortable ones, and keep them in good condition?

He was fastidious with his things, if not with himself; he started entering his cars into shows, and a few even into races, and he wasn't afraid personally to get dirty -- if he was dressed for it, he didn't like ruining his good suits. But what was wrong with that?

It would be too easy to get fatalistic about things. War was coming in a handful of years, but why should they act like it was here now? There was no point in letting things slide. The United States wasn't exactly a war torn country just yet, and besides, he had an image to uphold. He was young, rich, successful, "cool." He was, like his father had been before him, everything the Decepticons had wanted other humans to see, a grand and charismatic example of what one could gain from such a partnership.

The Decepticons themselves, however, remained no-shows. Dylan was hardly even surprised anymore. While they had been a shadow-presence in his life for over twenty years, their impact on him and his family's loyalty to them clearly felt even when they were tens of millions of miles away at least, they had very rarely actually been around on Earth.

At least, he reminded himself, that he knew of. There was a lot they weren't telling him, certainly. Scalpel had been in Germany for a while, at least, and he wouldn't have known about that if the little doctor hadn't told him so.

But they had only been present, around him, for maybe a half-dozen days of his life. All of their help, advice, and financial support had been from a vast distance, and even with Scalpel's other promise, that Soundwave would be checking in "very soon," Dylan had kind of just started assuming that it would always be that way. Which was more than a little disappointing, despite his highly apprehensive feelings about the war. Part of him actually wondered if Soundwave would bother checking in in person at all.

Then, not quite five years after his meeting with Scalpel, near the end of 2006, Dylan noticed a Cadillac LeMans in his garage that he'd never seen before.

This wasn't just a car he didn't remember; however many cars he owned now, a '53 LeMans would definitely not slip his mind. And while he let a few others use his garage to do repairs and restorations on their own cars, they always asked his permission, and he knew he hadn't cleared anyone for this.

He closed up shop early, even though it was barely afternoon yet; he apologized to his mechanics, sincerely, assured them that they'd all be paid for a full day's work, and sent them home with his regards. Once the garage was empty, its doors shut, he turned back to the offending car.

"All right," he said, placing his hands together, and folding them, fingers entwined. "I'm listening."

Noise came before words, of course, the familiar sound of transformation filling the garage as the car's flawless surface sprouted cracks and rearranged itself into a familiar form. Soundwave was courteous enough not to damage any of Dylan's cars, even transforming in a confined space with them like this, and Dylan felt... strangely calm, as he looked up and met red eyes.

"You could have called ahead," he pointed out impulsively, and Soundwave stared at him for a moment. Long enough that he regretted the words, wondering if he'd offended him, but then the Decepticon chuckled.

"You've done well for yourself." It didn't sound like a compliment so much as just a blunt comment, and Dylan wondered if he was being tested somehow, for some reason.

"You knew I would," he pointed out, not sure if he was handling this right. "I have the Decepticons to thank for it. I owe you..." he shrugged, spreading his hands as if to encompass everything, "basically my entire life. Right?" Them and his father; he wouldn't be here if not for that bastard. Time had helped with mourning.

It was hard to tell, because Soundwave's mouth was strange and fanged, but it looked like he might have smiled slightly. "Not yet."

That was unnerving. Dylan was beginning to realize exactly how little he knew this alien, and he tried not to shift uncomfortably, like a little kid caught doing something they weren't supposed to. "So," he changed tracks a little, turning to pace a little, rather than approaching or retreating. "The doctor said you'd be coming to check in. I take it there's something you need me to do?"

Funny, now that the time had come to meet with them and help them in person again, it felt almost like a business meeting. His heart was pounding, he wasn't calm, but he was clear-headed and his hands and voice didn't shake. He could fake calm.

"We need you available," Soundwave said simply, and Dylan turned in surprise, mouth opening. Soundwave continued as if he hadn't reacted at all, "And informed," and he closed his mouth again, staggered. "We need to accomplish our goals more quickly."

"What goals?" The question was immediate, and Dylan added weakly, "I'm not going to be much help in a war."

"No," Soundwave agreed, and there was that flash of amusement again. "You're no soldier. You won't be fighting." Dylan felt a surge of relief at that; he hadn't even realized how worried he'd been until he was left feeling lightheaded.

"What do I need to be informed about?" he finally asked, and Soundwave wordlessly transformed again, settling back into the smooth shape of the LeMans and opening the driver's side door.

The invitation was clear, as was the fact that he wouldn't be getting any of his questions answered at least until they were driving, and possibly not until they'd reached whatever destination Soundwave had in mind. Dylan wavered only a moment, then stepped forward, walking crisply to the car and slipping into the driver's seat, but courteously leaving his hands off the steering wheel.

"I have a lot of car lovers working in my garage, you know," he informed Soundwave, as the car closed his own door after him and its engine came to life. "They'll notice if a LeMans keeps appearing and disappearing."

"I will stay there for now." It was strange to hear Soundwave speaking -- sourced from nowhere in the car that Dylan could pinpoint -- without a mouth, even though Dylan had wondered if he might be able to. "When I leave, you can replace it."

"No, you're right, I probably can. I'll have to start looking for one." And that was a pleasant thought; no reason to turn down an excuse to buy a real '53 LeMans. It was an absolutely gorgeous car.

Dylan buckled up, belatedly, just in case any cops saw them, and slowly moved his hands to the steering wheel, just to rest there. He was hesitant to do it, but Soundwave didn't seem offended, and he didn't grip too tightly or turn the wheel at all. It was probably fine, then. The silence was starting to get to him, though, and in lieu of pressing his luck and turning on the radio, he said, "Thank you for sending your doctor, by the way."

"You have been useful to us," Soundwave said, by way of explanation. Dylan nodded. He'd figured out as much, that they'd wanted him to keep being useful for as long as possible. It was almost comforting; it felt like it made his position, and his life, more secure. He had solid proof that they considered him more useful to them alive than dead, after all.

"And the way you said you needed me to be available to you." He spoke a bit more carefully, there, not wanting to press for information, but practiced by this point at getting information and agreements without needing to press. "You do mean more available than usual? I hope I've always shown you that I'm dedicated to your needs as clients."

He almost winced at himself even as he spoke; that sounded embarrassingly weasel-wordy even to him. He sounded, in fact, like his father, or at least he reminded himself of him. But Soundwave made an amused huffing sound, almost a laugh.

"Yes. You're our most dedicated follower."

He'd suspected that would be the case, since everyone else he knew who also worked for the Decepticons seemed to see them as a means to an end, but it was strangely uplifting to actually hear it from Soundwave. "Well, thank you."

"We need you able to perform fast, informed actions," Soundwave continued. "In the coming conflict, we will not always be available to give you orders. When we do, we will need you to follow them with immediate understanding."

At least he'd already been assured he wouldn't be anywhere near the front lines. Dylan resisted the urge to drum his fingers on the steering wheel nervously; he felt it turn slightly in his hands, and let them move with the motion, as Soundwave took a corner. "That makes sense," he agreed. "So you need me to know what you're actually trying to do?"

"Some of it." They were heading towards his apartment, Dylan realized. "Your telescope has spotted Autobots."

For a moment, that didn't make sense to Dylan, and then it clicked, and he felt a chill. The Hubble telescope. "Coming to Earth?"

"Not yet. Soon." That was only a slight relief. Soundwave continued, "We must find two things before they arrive. Megatron and the All Spark." He paused. Dylan didn't want to interrupt, and knew he couldn't ask any intelligent questions yet anyway, so he stayed quiet, and Soundwave rewarded him by continuing to explain: "Our leader and the source of our life."

"The source of your life?" That seemed more important than asking about Megatron, though Dylan had to wonder exactly how long their leader had been missing, and if -- and why -- they thought he was on Earth.

"Without it, we can reproduce, but the hatchlings die." 'Hatchlings', Dylan noticed, and mouthed to himself, but he didn't ask after that either. This was not a Cybertronian biology lesson, as mind-boggling as the idea of these robot beings... what, laying eggs? was.

"And you think this All Spark, and your leader, are somewhere on Earth?

"We're sure of it. Another of our own disappeared on your planet almost a century ago, when it came to search."

Dylan wasn't sure how one of these gigantic alien robots could possibly just disappear on Earth unless they were actively hiding, but he wasn't arrogant enough to say so, instead casting about mentally for a possible answer. "Earth is about seventy percent water," he said slowly. "Do you think it could have landed in the ocean?"

"Possible," Soundwave acknowledged. "But that wouldn't interfere with its communications."

Dylan nodded. This wasn't what Soundwave had said was important, anyway; he hadn't even come close to implying that what he wanted was for Dylan to try to solve the mystery of where his companion had disappeared to. "But you can't just want my help finding them," he noted. "Or you could have asked me to try a long time ago."

"No. You need to know what we need, and why." Another pause, and then an unexpected clarification, "I hate to under-inform."

Dylan could have almost laughed. Soundwave, sounding almost like he was justifying himself? To him? He did smile, almost a grin, briefly. "All right. Makes sense."

"There was a project," Soundwave continued. "With luck, it will still go smoothly. Your people discovered it, and your father and his... colleagues have covered it up for us since."

Dylan's expression switched to a frown quickly. "I didn't know about this."

"Your father spoke of it when we met. There are people on your payroll still following our request."

Dylan racked his brain trying to remember. When they'd first met! That was decades ago; he was thirty-eight now. He'd been a child. He remembered that he'd been paying attention, even when he'd been distracted by Ravage; he'd been fascinated by the fact that his dad had been working with these aliens--

They'd been covering it up since. I've known about it, I just never knew what it was all about, that's all...

"We've been making sure they never get another man up on the moon," he realized. "Since the first launch." He would have stared at Soundwave, but he didn't know where to stare: Steering wheel? Rearview mirror? Middle of his dashboard? He stared at his hands, instead, relaxing the grip he'd taken on the wheel at some point. "Did they find something up there?"

"Something they cannot know about," Soundwave agreed. "And the Autobots cannot know about, until the right moment."

"A weapon?"

"It can be a source of weapons." But Soundwave didn't seem the type, Dylan was noticing, to keep quiet about something just for the mystery of it, or to tease. "A ship. And a Prime. And hundreds of space bridge pillars. Transportation devices, advanced beyond your understanding."

Dylan wasn't offended; that was fair enough, he wasn't even a scientist or technological genius by human standards. There were good odds that Soundwave had meant 'human' when he'd said 'your' there, anyway. He'd made the pillars clear enough even with such little detail, so what Dylan asked about was, "A Prime?"

"An Autobot," Soundwave explained patiently. "A particular kind. Deified among our people -- formerly. He alone recognized: Our war would destroy us. He will help us restore our world."

Dylan nodded again, as if he understood better than he did. They were pulling down his driveway now. "So until then, he's hiding on the moon."

Soundwave chuckled, as if he'd said something funny. "Close."

"All right, so you're searching Earth for Megatron, and the All Spark, and you know exactly where this Prime and a few hundred transportation pillars are. I'm following you so far." I think. "Oh, and the Autobots will be coming soon. I can't forget that. What are they waiting for?"

"A sign," Soundwave said. Dylan's family estate was not empty, but the people in his employ were those who were in on the secret, and after opening his door to let Dylan out, Soundwave transformed right in his driveway, Ravage beside him this time -- where did he keep her? -- peering down at him with red eyes. "They suspect the All Spark is on Earth. They suspect that we know. But they aren't certain."

"So... Keep things subtle." Dylan clapped his hands together once, quietly, and rubbed them, the hopefully universal sign of being ready to get to work. "Got it. Speaking of subtle, you're not going to drive yourself back to the garage, are you?"

"No," Soundwave agreed. "I'll stay here overnight. You will drive me in the morning."

Dylan was already thinking of ways to explain that, deciding quickly on the story that he'd gotten this car reportedly 'in perfect condition' and had driven it home to test it, when Ravage padded over to him. She didn't knock him over this time, or even jump up on him, and he lowered his hands, smiling down at her, and she wound around his legs. Or something like that; she came up higher than his waist. "Hey, long time no see."

"Ravage," Soundwave continued, "will stay in your home for now. She'll relay information to me." So she was... kind of a security camera that Soundwave would have constant access to, staying close to Dylan, in his home. Somehow, he didn't feel too bothered by that.

"I guess that makes sense," Dylan agreed, trying to catch her behind the ears as she circled him, then almost stumbled as she rubbed up against his knees, rubbing at her shoulders instead almost as much to fend her off as anything. "Whoa -- I know I'm taller now, but you forget I'm still small, Ravage. And I bet I weigh a hundred pounds less than you do. At least."

Ravage gave a growling purr of pleased agreement, and padded away from him again, slinking towards the house.

Dylan lingered, hesitating even as Soundwave transformed back, settling into car form halfway up his driveway. He didn't bother driving the rest of the way up, at least not yet... Waiting? He was silent, patient as the grave, and Dylan felt an odd surge of frustration. He'd been patient, too; he'd waited most of his life for the Decepticons to come back into it in any solid way, and had almost come to terms with the idea that they might not. Just words on a screen, and maybe the occasional visit to startle the hell out of him, lasting, what, a few days at most?

And now they were just... inserting themselves. Fine. Fine, that was fine. He'd been prepared for this, even if they'd thrown him off. Take that frustration, tamp it down; this was more like what he'd been dreaming of back when he was a kid, right?

"If you need anything, just let me know and I'll have it brought out to you," Dylan settled on, and turned away from Soundwave, walking up the drive towards his house.

Ravage stuck close to him those first few days, but it was hard to chalk that up to her simply keeping an eye on him. He'd always owned dogs but he'd always liked cats, too, maybe in part because of her influence on him, and he recognized the way she got underfoot as affectionate. When he finally gave in and sat down, he chose the couch, instead of one of the armchairs, and as expected she jumped up and flopped across his lap like the world's heaviest seatbelt.

"Please don't knead on my furniture," he told her. It had all been expensive, and he'd kept it in spotless condition. "...Or on me. I'm not made of metal like you are."

Her eye flashed a brighter red, and then she lowered her head down onto her big paws, engine rumbling contentedly. Just like the first time they'd met, and just like then, this was nice, it felt comfortable and okay, and while it didn't feel normal, the fact that it wasn't normal felt like something great. It felt like something he could get used to, if he was just given the time to.

"You'll make me wish you were going to stick around, being all affectionate like this." He stroked a hand up and down her back, then she raised her head to let him scritch under her chin, careful of her teeth and the odd prongs she had up under there. "But I'm guessing you and Soundwave will need to leave in a few days. I just hope you won't take so long to come visit me again," he joked.

She purred a little louder, and wriggled around to flop onto her side and present her belly, and of course she didn't answer, and Dylan was suitably distracted by the standard conundrum of whether a cat actually wanted him to pet her belly, or if falling for the little act would result in him losing a hand -- maybe literally, in this case.

He went ahead and petted her. She didn't attack him even once, as if remembering what he'd been saying about his own human fragility.