The Fanfiction Academic Institute of Langley
By GreenCat3/Chatvert with assistance from Mlles. Sara, Christine, and Stephanie...as well as a Markoff.
Credit for the original OFU idea goes to the incomparable Miss Cam, aka Camilla Sandman. Go read OFUM, it's awesome.
Chapter 1: Recruitment
The girl picked up the half-empty can of Red Bull by her computer and drank, the chemical taste helping to clear her head. How long had she been up? She glanced at the clock in her computer's system tray. 2:37. She rubbed her eyes sleepily. As much as she wanted to sleep, she couldn't. Not now. Not while she was so close to the breakthrough.
Aly Haskell stared blearily at what was displayed on her monitor, reading over her fanfic one last time. Yes! Haha! Almost immediately the weariness shook itself off from her head. She was done. She was done! She resisted the urge to get up and do a little happy dance, though she was sure that urge was just the Red Bull and Sour Patch Kids talking.
Aly took another sip of the disgusting energy drink, feeling the caffeine and taurine and other assorted vile things that ended in 'ine' flooding through her body. All right, she was pumped now. She could do this. She was so close, so close. Once this was up on the web, she could stumble into bed and sleep for a week. For two months she'd been struggling to get this written. It had taken blood, sweat, tears, and a general drop in her math grade (who needs math anyway? she had told herself as she wrote during class), but it was finished. She beamed happily at the Microsoft Word document staring at her from her glowing monitor.
With speed born of a desire to get to bed, her fingers flew along the keys, guiding her to her favorite fanfiction site. Once she had logged in, she went to the section to add a new story. In a trice, she had uploaded the document, filled out all of the necessary information, including the customary summary with the plaintive 'please review!' tacked onto the end.
All that was left was to press the final 'Submit' button. And she did.
The page began to load…and stopped. Aly stared at the error message that had popped up. It was unlike any she had ever seen, particularly from this site:Error 041571:
User has attempted illegal function call; fanfic frozen.
Aly kept on staring at her monitor. 'Fanfic frozen'? She clicked on the 'More…' button, hoping to discover more about the strange and frankly unnerving error.
User has attempted to post unauthorized fanfic.
The girl picked up her can of Red Bull and took another sip from it, scowling at her screen. 'Unauthorized'? What the hell does that mean?
"It means," said a calm and pleasant voice from behind her, "that you're in big trouble."
Aly choked on her mouthful of energy drink, nearly spitting it out all over the monitor. With great effort, she managed to swallow the increasingly intolerable chemical-warfare-in-a-can and slowly swivel around in her chair. Nothing could have prepared her for what she was about to see.
How did they get in my room? was her first thought, for there were two impeccably-suited men standing right in the middle of her room, as though they had always been there. But her computer was practically facing the door, and all the windows were closed…
Oh. That's right, she thought with a sidelong glance at her can of Red Bull, her fourth of the evening. It's all a sugar hallucination. I just need to go to sleep.
One of the suits smiled, but it didn't quite reach his eyes – not that she could tell, because both of them were wearing dark, eye-obscuring shades. That didn't seem to hinder them one bit, though, because the second one began to speak almost as soon as she had turned around.
"Miss Alyssa Marie Haskell?" he asked, consulting a clipboard.
"Yes?" Aly asked, thoroughly confused.
The other suit cleared his throat and began to speak. Both of them, Aly noted, had identical crew cuts. Very governmental. "Miss Haskell, it has come to our attention that you have been writing fanfiction."
"Uh, yeah." Aly was nonplussed. "What of it? What, is fanfiction illegal now? Are you guys, like, the RIAA or something? 'Cause, okay, I've downloaded a little bit of music, you know, a few gigs, like ten or so, but I was going to give it back, honest…"
The suits didn't bother to correct her. The one with the clipboard merely produced a stack of papers in a manila folder – from just where, Aly couldn't tell – and held it out to her. Bewildered, she accepted it. "This contains your application for the Fanfiction Academic Institute of Langley," he said.
"Also known as FAIL," the other suit added helpfully, taking great care to enunciate each letter of the acronym.
"Fail?" Aly asked.
Again, she was ignored by the businesslike government men. The clipboarded one spoke again. "It has been requested that you attend, and is indeed in your best interests to do so."
"What if I don't?" Aly shot back. Lack of sleep had made her cranky, and this hallucination wasn't fun anymore.
"Then you will no longer be allowed to write fanfiction." The G-man tapped the folder, which was stamped 'Confidential'. "We await your response." In an eyeblink, the two of them were gone, leaving a very confused and irritated Aly behind.
"What in God's name was that all about?" she wondered aloud. She looked down. The folder was still in her hands. Figuring that she may as well milk the hallucination for all it was worth, she flipped through its contents. There was what looked to be a fairly standard college application, mercifully free of financial aid information and writing samples (which was how she knew it wasn't real), and a listing of courses. Curiously, she skimmed the course catalog.
'Secondary Characters and You. Lecturers: Alexander Conklin, Dr. Morris Panov.' 'Bookverse vs. Movieverse. Lecturers: Marie St. Jacques-Webb, Marie Kreutz.' 'Survival Skills 101. Lecturer: Jason Bourne.'
Aly's eyes went wide. If Jason Bourne – Matt Damon himself! – was going to be teaching a course, this might not be such a bad hallucination after all. What was the harm in filling out the applications? It wasn't like they were real, after all. And she'd filled out enough of them to be able to do them in her sleep – which she quite suspected she was doing anyway. Proof positive that she'd really been too focused on the whole college thing, if she was dreaming about it…
Some of the questions were a bit odd, though. 'Proficiency with firearms, Y/N? If 'Y', specify.' What the hell? Aly found herself thinking that phrase with disturbing regularity, and circled 'N'. All weirdness aside, though, she dutifully filled the entire form out and placed it on her desk next to her computer. She told the machine to hibernate and stumbled off to bed. Curiously enough, the error message had disappeared from her screen, but she was too tired to notice. Her sugar rush seemed to have hit the wall. By the time she had wriggled under the covers, the manila folder with her application in it had vanished from her desk – not that Aly would have noticed, because she was already fast asleep.
If she had known what would happen to her when she awoke, she would have likely chugged six more cans of Red Bull and never slept again.
Enrolment for FAIL is now open! Since the Staff would really appreciate not getting the Hand of God waved at them, applications submitted through the site (in reviews) will not be accepted. Please copy and paste the following form, fill it out, and email it to us at bourneofu(at)gmail(dot)com.
Have you read the books?:
--Even the recent, non-Ludlum sequels?:
Have you seen the movies?:
Have you seen the 1988 miniseries?:
Is your lusting obvious?:
Hated characters(s)? Why?:
Hated pairing(s)? Why?:
Slash? (circle one): Y / N
Have you read OFUM?:
Proficiency with firearms, Y / N ? (circle one).
--If Y, specify:
Fear of the following (mark all that apply): Jackals / Heavy Books / Heights / Military Training / CIA Agents / Canes / Treadstone and/or Blackbriar / Prosthetic Limbs / The U.S. Government / Russians / Psychoanalysis / Alcoholics / Old Men / Clergy / The Mafia / Interrogation
Chosen affiliation (circle one): CIA / KGB / Carlos the Jackal / Bourne
Do not worry about providing a writing sample. We already have more than enough.
Welcome to FAIL.
Miss Alex, Miss Sara, Miss Christine, Miss Stephanie, and Markoff