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144: Interlude : Sphek     145: Angel Ascending     146: Embrace Me, Wirewitch
147: The Blood That Binds     148: Sib/Riv     149: The Dying (iii)

Post: 07.28.2006
Date: 10.26.2196
Time: Morning

Interlude : Sphek

I’ve been here before, in the middle of the gad (rin), surrounded by seven pedestals and seven thrones. A circle of light shines down on me, preventing me from seeing into the darkness behind the thrones. Doesn’t prevent me from seeing that only five of the thrones are occupied. Two are emptier than they should be. Last time there was just that one.

Can’t think about that now though. Gotta focus on the matter in front of me. For (3)ela's sake.

I’m on my own here, and the aloneness isn’t a good feeling. The coven, shea(3)va, van(9)nis, cyn(7)dar, and Kiiziiziixii are all outside. Nobody that isn’t the Sphek or myself is allowed in today. Even the guards were sent out. So now it’s just me against the Sphek.

I’m in full Driftling garb for this special occasion. Cloak, cov (rin), sever-whip, and boots. My hood is down. Hiding your face in the presence of the Sphek is perceived as sign of cowardice. A coward I may be, but I’m not going to be obvious about it, and it wouldn’t get me what I want. Have to be strong here. Weakness brings failure.

I’m waiting quietly at the moment. They’re talking amongst themselves, not having even acknowledged my presence yet. Protocol demands that I don’t speak until addressed. Technically, they could adjourn without ever saying anything to me. They lead; it’s their right. If that happens, I’ll be upset. They won’t like seeing me upset, I guarantee it. Hoping to avoid a confrontation though—well, a confrontation like that at least. What I’m here for has confrontation written all over it.

They’re talking about important things—the repair of the city, the mourning ceremonies, the removal of debris, the housing of the homeless, the feeding of the remaining population—but all I can think of is that they’re ignoring me. Really, they aren’t I suppose. Doesn’t matter. (3)ela is out there somewhere, in the clutches of the Zomboids, alive and waiting for her mother to find and rescue her. Every minute counts. Every minute passed in a minute wasted. (3)ela is waiting for me. And what am I doing? I’m standing docile, head bowed, waiting impatiently for the politicians to give me permission to leave. I resist the rising urge to tap my foot.

     (do what you have to, angel)

I am, and I will.

Waiting.

Waiting.

Waiting!

Glitch this—

“Who is this Atharan standing before us? Identify yourself.” The voice—it’s shar(8)ra’s. Natural. Logical. She ascended with em(0)’s death, just like shea(3)va said she would. Curious, I’m feeling a bit of anger here, though it’s vague and directionless, without a clear focal point..

“My name is (2)syl, native daughter of Athara for twenty years.”

“And why, my daughter, have you wandered into the gad (rin) today?”

Wandered? What the glitch does she mean by that? I’m here for a specific purpose, she glitched well knows it. She used that word on purpose!

Now I have focus to my anger, but it won’t serve me here…yet. I maintain control of my vocal inflections, unwilling to betray my growing temper. “My daughter, (3)ela was taken in the recent Zomboid attack. I have a request to make on her behalf. Will you allow me to enter?”

Can’t see since my head is still bowed, but this is where there’s a moment of silence while they all look back and forth to make sure nobody has an objection to me being here.

“Time is short lately,” shar(8)ra says, “but you may tell us your request.”

Here goes. Keeping it short, simple, and clear. Raising my head so I can look the remaining Sphek members in their eyes, let them see the duty of a mother there, let them see why I must be allowed to leave. “I need to leave Athara and find my daughter. The wirewitches will go with me for protection. My blod (sis) shea(3)va and her blod (mat) van(9)nis are intending to go with me too. My intent is to rescue my daughter from the Zomboids and return her to Athara where we both belong. I’m here to ask for city security forces to accompany us.”

               (oh, you?)

          (belong here?)

     (now, angel?)

Nobody says anything. Seeing facial expressions is difficult in this light, but shar(8)ra’s face is emotionless. None of the others are radiating the cold she is.

“You belong here, with your people,” shar(8)ra says.

“And my daughter belongs with me,” I say. That’s when I notice she’s not sitting in the throne she usually does, but in the one that belonged to em(0). My mother’s throne remains empty. Still, shouldn’t she be sitting in her own? Pretty sure that’s how it works. I guess times are changing.

I hear (2)amlela’s voice speak next. “Athara is in ruins, and you come to us, asking for security forces to accompany you on a personal quest. Already, there are too few of them to defend the city.”

“I only ask for a few. Our chances of success are greater if some of them are allowed to go with us.”

“It is likely, syl, that your daughter is no longer alive,” (6)flayle says. It’s a hard statement, but there was such compassion in his voice, that I realize why he’s saying it. He doesn’t want me crushed. Well, it’s too late for that.

“If that’s true, then I will bring her body back.” I choke at the end of that. Please don’t let that be true, please, please, please. No tears, and eyes burning, I want to be anywhere but here right now. Can’t break down yet. Just got here. Besides, this is the way of the Sphek. You must fight, or even the most benign request will be denied.

“You put yourself and others at risk for a dead body,” (2)amlela says.

“Nobody saw her die. And even if she is...she’s not just a dead body to me—she’s my daughter. I have a right to bury her.”

“But not to put others at risk.”

“I have not forced. I have asked.”

“You are in no condition to begin this quest,” dal(4)fin says, a touch of concern carried on her voice. Even in the dark I can see the braids in her hair.

“The Nanzag poison isn’t a concern anymore,” I say.

“Do not lie to us,” shar(8)ra says.

“I am not lying. I am not concerned about the poison anymore.”

“We hear that you require regular injections of…wirewitch plasma in order to fight off the effects of the poison,” (6)flayle says, again with that soft tone of his. “Is this true?”

“Yes.”

“So how is this not a concern?”

“It’s not a concern to me. What I’m concerned with is bringing my daughter back to Athara.”

“Well, your health is a concern to us.”

“And to the rest of Athara,” dal(4)fin adds.

“Your lif (pah) winds tighter and tighter with these wirewitches as each day passes,” ikki(5) says. Her hair’s so long, it streams over the sides of her throne. “That is of some concern to us also.”

“They are my friends,” I say. “The wirewitches aren’t the problem here. I would be dead if it weren’t for them.”

ikki(5) snorts. “Yes, now your life is tied to them. Your situation is quite dire, and you would be wise to not walk as if that wasn’t the case.”

“I know exactly what my situation is. Dire or not, I intend to survive it.”

“Pursing the Nanzag is not a sign of somebody who wants to survive, but to commit suicide.”

“I just want my daughter back. Surely you understand that.” My irritation is increasing. Not good at justifying myself to others. If I’m not careful, my voice is gonna betray me. Who knows, my eyes may be doing that already. Keeping my face blank is near impossible. I think I’ve done it so far, but I’m losing the battle for restraint.

“Athara-Meeatora is too important,” (6)flayle says, actually standing up. “You cannot endanger your life like this.”

“I am Atharan. Nothing can endanger my life more than that one, simple fact.”

“Many of us believe that you are unique among us, that you have some special purpose you were born for. There is a great deal of hope placed in who you are and what you will accomplish. That hope faltered when you left us the first time. Now that you have come back, I have seen hope again in the faces of our people. I am not eager to have you leave us again, perhaps never to return.”

He speaks eloquently, even for how young he is—maybe only a few years older than I am. Too bad he’s not masking any of the hope he talks about from showing on his own face. “Your faith in me is misguided. I may be Athara-Meeatora, but that’s just a name for somebody you don’t understand and who can’t understand herself.”

“You have obligations,” (6)flayle says, taking a step off the pedestal.

shar(8)ra’s voice cuts through the room. “You forget yourself, flayle!”

The solitary male Sphek member turns toward her. “I have forgotten nothing. I know what I’m doing. I know my place. As should we all.”

Now it’s shar(8)ra’s turn to stand. She opens her mouth, but then, realizing that she’s standing, adjusts her cov (rin) and sits back down. Turning back to me, she says, “None of the city’s security forces will accompany you. They are needed here.”

I duck my head to prevent them from seeing me lose control. Inside, a surge of anger boils up. Nails are digging into my palms, and one hand creeps toward my hip. No no no, that’s not gonna work. Glitch. I was hoping this would go better.

Through clenched teeth, I manage, “Thank you for considering my request. We will survive without them.” Survive. Yeah. It’s what I do best. Tracking and infiltrating the Zomboids is gonna be more challenging now. Still, shea(3)va and van(9)nis both agreed that my request would be denied.

“Survive?” shar(8)ra asks. “You sound as if you are planning to go ahead with your quest.”

“That’s exactly what I’m gonna do.” Oops, let a little anger show in my tone there. Oh well, they’ll have to cope as best they can.

“No,” shar(8)ra says, her voice deep and flat.

shea(3)va and van(9)nis predicted that’s what she’d say.

“No?” I echo.

“No, you are not permitted to leave Athara. Your place is here, with your people. You are an important figurehead that many of them look up to. You are needed here to—as flayle said—give them hope. Right now, they all need as much hope as they can get.”

“I am leaving to find my daughter. I will do it with or without the consent of the Sphek.”

“You will not defy our ruling!” shar(8)ra shouts.

Head still bowed, I raise it just enough so that I can stare directly at her. I see her, framed on either side by walls of blue. Didn’t feel like having the my hair confined today. I am wearing my lobeclips and my necklace and my bracelet though. shar(8)ra is clawing the arms of her throne. “You can’t stop me if I want to go. You couldn’t before, and you can’t now. I will do what I must to find (3)ela and bring her back.”

She leans forward, hands still locked tight onto her throne. “You will obey all directives from the Sphek!”

“Or what?”

“Or I will have you confined and guarded.”

There’s disquiet among the other Sphek members. They’re separated by too much space, so they can’t actually talk to each other without me hearing. I don’t pick up any words, so they’re mostly emitting grunts and sounds of displeasure.

“Come into the light,” I say. “I want to see your face when you tell me that.”

shar(8)ra’s voice goes even colder. “You’re finished here, child. You may go.”

Impressive. I’ve been dismissed. Too bad I’m not in a dismissed mood.

More disquiet, but none of the others are saying anything. (6)flayle even sat back down. Guess they’re all just going to watch and wait. Well, fine, there’s gonna be a show here. Just a couple seconds more.

“Come into the light,” I repeat. “I petition you.” shea(3)va told me to say that if things got to this point. It’s shar(8)ra’s last chance out of this.

She’s not moving. She’s not responding.

Bad move, sharra, you just glitched yourself.

I throw back my cloak. Even before it falls to the floor, I’m charging forward, not quite at a run, but fast enough that nobody’s going to be able to move in time to intercept me. It works. I’m out of the light and stepping up on the pedestal of her throne before anybody can say anything. I have my hands over hers and my face in hers the next second.

She’s flinches back, her hands sliding back along the arms of the throne, but I slide right with her.

“Then I’ll come into the dark,” I growl.

“Step away, unless you are making some attempt at a challenge,” she says. For her part, her voice is only slightly wavering. She’s not afraid, at least not much. She’s got a sever-whip, but I’m assuming she won’t use it against me, just like I won’t use mine on her. Activating a sever-whip inside the gad (rin) is not permitted. Though that didn’t stop cyn(7)dar from doing it.

“Tell me again that you’ll have me confined,” I say.

“You cannot leave, child. Do not try, or you will be restrained and guarded.”

Her long, pink hair falls over one shoulder. Want to grab it with both hands and yank as hard as I can, no matter how pretty it looks.

“I am Athara-Meeatora. You will do no such thing.”

“That fact doesn’t exempt you from the will of the Sphek.”

“Actually, it does. The thing is, you created me. You made me out to be your savior. By doing that, you gave me more power than even the Sphek can wield. Now, like it or not, you can’t control me, so don’t even try.”

“Step back, or I will call the guards.”

I look to either side, to see if any of the other Sphek members are doing anything. They’re all seated. Watching intently to be sure, but none of them are showing any signs that they’re going to intervene.

“Give me permission to leave and find my daughter.”

“We cannot.”

“No, you will not. You definitely can. You lead the Sphek.”

“We have spoken.”

Cosmic glitch. She’s forcing my hand.

“Last chance to reconsider,” I say, coming close enough that I could kiss her. Even in the dark, I can see the pink of her eyes shimmering reflected light from the center of the room. I think, in those few seconds that we’re like that, she gets a hint of what’s about to come. She knows, but she can’t resign herself. She has to fight it. In that way, I guess we’re alike. We both go down fighting.

This time, however, she's the only one going down..

“No,” she says, merely whispering in the face of the impending apocalypse.

I release her, pushing back, but not stepping off the pedestal.

“Oops, wrong answer,” I say, smiling, taking more pleasure than I should from what I say next. “As daughter of ni(1)na, I claim my right to lead the Sphek. Thanks for keeping it warm, but get the glitch out of my chair.”

Post: 07.28.2006
Date: 10.26.2196
Time: Midday

Angel Ascending

The gad (rin) is full now. Not just me surrounded by the Sphek. When the call went out across the city, it didn’t take long for them to fill this place. All eyes are on me. I’m uncomfortable with that. Nothing I can do about it, so no complaining.

This is not what I wanted, but it is what I asked for.

I’m kneeling in the center of the room, the other five Sphek members standing around me. We’re all cloaked and quiet, meditative. There’s five minutes of silence during the beginning of the ceremony in honor of fallen Sphek members.

As it turns out, when a valid claim to a position on the Sphek is made, there is no debate. Each of the Sphek members knew that I had a legitimate claim for leadership. shar(8)ra deflated right in front of me, immediately bowing her head and saying, “I apologize, syl. You are, of course, entitled to this seat.” She moved without a sound to her proper throne. The others quickly stopped me from sitting down, which I was about to do—partly out of defiance, and party out of ignorance. Even though there’s no debate, there’s still ceremony. More minutes wasted, but there’s only so much I can do to hurry things along and still hope to maintain good relationships with everybody around me. Athara-Meeatora can defy the rules, but it doesn't mean she should.

Hands on my shoulders and head. Quiet time is over apparently. I wasn’t told the exact steps in this ceremony—there wasn’t time. I’m guided to my feet. The five Sphek members line up in front of me.

shar(8)ra speaks first. “You stand before us, (2)syl, daughter of nia(1)na and (4)akel, to claim your position as leader of the Sphek. By what right do you make this claim?”

“The position is mine by birth, as daughter of nia(1)na, who is lost to us, and as the adopted daughter of em(0), who fell in combat.”

“Your claim is valid, and I accept it,” shar(8)ra says.

“Your claim is valid, and I accept it,” dal(4)fin says.

“Your claim is valid, and I accept it,” (2)amlela says.

“Your claim is valid, and I accept it,” ikki(5) says.

“Your claim is valid, and I accept it,” (6)flayle says.

“As leader of the Sphek, the future of Athara is in your hands,” shar(8)ra says. “No one can tell you how to lead—that is something you must discover for yourself. However, you do not lead alone. We are with you. We accept your weaknesses. We accept your strengths. You come to us just as your are, and we accept you as you are.”

“Thank you.”

shar(8)ra continues. “Will you commit yourself to Athara?”

“I will.”

“Then I welcome you as an equal, but also as my leader,” shar(8)ra says. Then she steps forward, grabs my shoulders and kisses me on the lips. I almost flinch, but only because I wasn’t expecting it. “Your vow becomes mine.”

shar(8)ra moves aside, and dal(4)fin steps in front of me. “Will you lower yourself so that Athara may rise?” she asks.

“I will.”

“Then you are my leader,” she says, moving her lips quickly to mine. She’s blushing when she says, “Your vow becomes mine.”

“When you act, will you only act in the interests of Athara?” ikki(5) asks.

“I will do my best.”

“That is all that is asked of any of us. I welcome you as my leader.” She kisses me, hard, then steps away. I wipe my mouth, saliva streaking on the back of my wrist.

“Will you sacrifice yourself for the good of Athara?” (6)flayle asks.

“I will do what I have to in all situations,” I say. Was that really answering the question? Not sure. Regardless, he accepts it.

“Then you are my equal and my leader,” he says, smiling. Kissing him is way better than kissing the women. After it’s over, I realized that I closed my eyes, and I’m breathing a little heavier. What the glitch is wrong with me?!?

(2)amlela is next. “Will you die for Athara?”

“If Athara calls for me to die, I will answer,” I say.

(2)amlela’s face shows no emotion, or maybe it’s radiating cold. Whichever it is, she says, “Then I welcome you, and I will follow your lead.” Her cold lips are only on mine for only a fraction of a second, and I’m glad, fighting down the urge to shiver.

All of them gather closer around me, laying their hands on my head, my neck, and my shoulders.

“It is finished,” shar(8)ra calls out loudly. “(2)syl, daughter of Athara, Take your rightful place on the throne of your mother.”

The others walk to their thrones and sit down. I move toward the two empty thrones, but select em(0)’s vacant throne instead. Haven’t sat in one before, but it looks comfortable enough. It’s a high-backed chair, made up of grey fabric stretched across a solid understructure. The fabric is stitched with designs and symbols that I haven’t learned yet, the biggest symbol across the back—something akin to the lesh (writ), but with more structure. Thick, tube-like legs reach out from under the taut material to connect with the pedestal beneath. The armrests are bowed outward, giving the throne an inviting look. I take the invitation, turning around and lowering myself to the throne, perhaps even in a regal manner. I’m not regal by any means, but my new position requires some measure of respect from me.

I only wait a moment before explaining. “My mother’s throne will remain empty until she returns to Athara, or until her dead body is returned, or until proof of her death is discovered. On that day, I will either step down in deference to her, or I will take my mother’s throne as her successor, but not before.”

The other Sphek members nod in assent. They’re waiting for me to say more. Wonderful. Can’t you take leadership of the ruling body of your people without them expecting you to give a speech anymore?

I look out, beyond the perimeter of light that beams down in the center of the gad (rin), through the shadows in which I now sit. I look past those that don’t really belong—the wirewitches and Kiiziiziixii—and I see my people. Atharans. Driftlings. Mine.

Mine, but not mine. Really, I am theirs.

Such a glitched situation I’ve put myself in here. I’m doing this for my daughter. They wouldn’t let me leave, so I gave myself the authority to let myself leave. Could’ve snuck out of the city. Maybe that would’ve been easier. Maybe that would’ve been the quicker way. But if I had done that, gone against the Sphek, I…I may not have been able to return. Not because of any ruling, but because of what I wouldn’t let myself come back to. They would’ve had to take me back—there are too few of us alive for them not to accept any of us—but the damage would’ve been difficult, if not impossible, to repair. It would’ve been perceived as a challenge to the authority of the Sphek if Athara-Meeatora disobeyed their decree. Like it or not, nin(9) was right—I hold power. I don’t like it, but I’m stuck with it. Nobody will let me deny it. Nobody will let me give it back. I am Athara-Meeatora, and even those who hate me and what I am won’t let me be anything else. Defying the Sphek would mean that I denied their authority, put myself above them. shea(3)va and van(9)nis agreed that none of us were comfortable with that. As my blod (sis), shea(3)va was willing to follow me no matter what, even if it meant helping me defy the Sphek. van(9)nis definitely came along with that deal if it was to reach that point. Good thing it didn’t. We all agree that if I left without the Sphek’s blessing, I could never return. None of us wanted that. Unfortunately, none of us could come up with another way out of this. It was either defy the Sphek, or begin to control them.

So here I am, controlling them. There was no other way. ela, I’m doing this for you. I’ll do anything to hold you in my arms again. Anything. God, please don’t let me be too late to save her. I know she’s not dead, she can’t be dead, I hardly had a chance to get to know her for that to be all there is. I need more. Didn’t think I could love somebody this fiercely this fast. Maybe it’s a love that only mothers can know. Whatever it is, it’s strong, and I have a hard time thinking about anything else.

Surrounding me: my people. They are mine and I’m theirs. Too much glitched responsibility, only this time I have nobody to blame but myself for my situation. I made my choice. I’ll live with it.

“Bring the rest of the lights up, please,” I say, not knowing if it’s even possible, just assuming it is. That sets whispers throughout the crowd. I avoid looking at any of the other Sphek members because I’m scared of what they’re thinking of me right now. Just when I’m about to ask somebody whether there actually are other lights to turn up, the entire gad (rin) is illuminated with soft light. People blink as their eyes adjust.

“That’s better,” I say, breathing a little easier now that I can see everybody. I’m a little more intimidated, but at least I know who I’m dealing with now.

Standing, I slip out of my cloak, just like shea(3)va and I discussed yesterday, then walk to the center of the room, also just like we planned. I probably already have everybody’s attention, but I need to make sure that I hold it. What I'm going to do next ought to do just that.

I raise one arm, bending it so it’s accessible to my other hand. I dig at my wrist, undoing the clip that holds the end of the cov (rin) strip there. When it comes free, I start to unravel it, slowly and methodically uncovering my arm. My markings there still scare me every time I look at them, but right now, I can’t let any of that show. I’ve embraced what I am. Can’t show any fear or hesitation now. When my arm is free to my shoulder, I drop the end of the material and do the same with the other arm. What I do next, I have to do fast, or I won’t get away with it. Also have to be careful, or it’s gonna hurt. With a conscious effort, I let the automatic me take over. Dropping the end of the second strip, I reach for my hip, feeling cool metal. I’m swinging my arm, even as the plasma wire shoots into existence. Mind registers gasps from the crowd, even louder ones from the Sphek members. Can’t help but smile at that. Good. Heat against left my shoulder as the plasma wire severs the hanging strip of material there, then curling around behind me, touches the strip of material at my right shoulder. The hanging strips flutter to the floor while I bend my elbow over my head, plasma wire retracting. The sever-whip is back in its holster before the two strips of material have settled. A little showy, but it’s just what they want, what they need. I do a slow spin, my palms held out in front of me. They need to see me as nothing more than what I am.

“All I am, is one of you,” I say, and my voice hardly trembles. “Nothing more. You call me Athara-Meeatora, but all that means is that you don’t understand me. I was born without manifesting the lesh (writ), and without the deformities that plague our kind. As you can see, my markings have appeared. Whatever held them back has been removed from me. It would be a mistake to think that I’m different than you simply because my body isn’t afflicted with physical deformities. Lack of affliction doesn’t mean anything other than my body functions a little differently. It definitely doesn’t mean I can do things that you can’t. If anything, all of you are stronger than I am, because you have overcome the affliction that is natural to our race. Really, I am the weakest among us. Do not elevate me above what I truly am—what you know me to be: one of you. I am not here to save you. I am but one of Athara’s daughters, and the future of Athara does not lie just in my hands, but in the hands of all of us.

“As a people, we are in danger. The Zomboids have attacked us.” I use the informal name for the Nanzag because, well, that’s what I normally say. Don’t think the other Sphek members approve. Oh well. “Again and again they have assaulted us. Their reasons—if they truly have them—are irrelevant. Quite simply, it seems that they are gonna attack us until we are extinct. Yes, extinct. I use that word, because we, as a people, are on the verge of it. We are ill-equipped to handle another attack like the last one. If they attacked us today, we might never recover. Even now, our survival is in question. We cannot continue like this—this waiting for death.

“A friend and I have an agreement between us. We’ve told each other that we are glitching the future. Crude as it is, it is a philosophy of necessity. It means that we’re not going to stand around and wait for the future to run us down. Instead, we’re running to meet the future. This is the way to survive.

“I do not want to see my people dying. I do not want to see you suffering. I want to see you surviving. I want to see you prospering. But these are things I can’t do for you. I can only encourage you to do whatever is necessary to ensure that you survive and prosper. I once thought that surviving was the only option. Now I know that surviving is just a start. We must also work to guarantee the survival of our children. We must prosper. We must thrive. So that our sons and daughters can do the same, long after our bodies are cold in the ground.” I manage to keep my voice from choking when I mention children. Somehow, I manage. I’m not supposed to die after my daughter does. Not the way it’s supposed to be. That’s why she has to be alive. We had a deal.  “I have only two things left to say, and then the Sphek will adjourn for the day. First, my primary goal, as leader of the Sphek, will be to determine a course of action for Athara. Our survival as a people is in question, and that is something I cannot live with. We will formulate a plan and implement it. I intend for us to survive. Second, my daughter (3)ela was taken in the recent Zomboid attack. I don’t know if she is alive or dead. All I know is that she was seen being carried off, and that her body hasn’t been found.” They all know this already, but I feel better telling them myself. “I will be leaving you for a short while to find her. I will return as soon as I can. This is something I must do, as a mother, but also as a Driftling. I hope that you will understand. In my place, shar(8)ra will lead the Sphek. That’s it. I’m done.”

I leave the strips of cov (rin) material on the ground as I turn to retake my throne, blowing out a deep breath as I go.

“That was…unique,” (6)flayle says. He’s watching the murmuring crowd beginning to dissipate.

ikki(5) twirls strands of long hair around her finger, which has several small bones sticking out of it. “Some of it was well said though. Some of it wasn’t.”

“I said what I thought I should,” I say. “I told the truth.”

Something about that must be funny because shar(8)ra and (2)amlela laugh. Not bad or hateful laughs, at least I don’t think so, but laughs nonetheless.

“You had the lights turned on,” (2)amlela says.

“Did I do something wrong?” I ask.

“No, but I think your mother was the last one to do that."

Heart’s beating stronger than normal. Only now, after I’m done, do I realize that my hands and legs are shaking, adrenaline surging through my body.

As the last of the crowd exits, the wirewitches, shea(3)va, van(9)nis, and Kiiziiziixii have lagged behind. Actually, they’re gathered near the exit—they just aren’t showing any signs that they’re going to leave. Didn’t see cyn(7)dar. I wonder if he was here.

Not knowing if there’s any formal adjournment ritual for the Sphek, I simply stand and step down off the pedestal, crossing the center of the room with the word-spiral pattern, moving towards my friends. Nobody makes a move or says anything to stop me. Guess I can leave whenever I want.

“Let’s walk,” I say. “We have planning to do.”

I cast what’s hopefully a casual glance at 2-85. Been awhile since I’ve seen him. Concern for him and his wounds pours into me, pushing aside thoughts of (3)ela for the moment. He’s on the other side of JACK, so I don’t get a good look. For the most part, he seems to moving well, maybe a slight limp in his step. I take a second glance—this time anything but casual—catching sight of his hairstalk. Oh God, it’s true, so terribly true. It’s shorter, falling only to the back of his knee. And it’s never gonna grow back.

     (good going, angel look)

          (what you did)

I look away, look down, can’t be looking over there at him. What if he sees me?

No, can’t act like this, like I’m afraid of him, or what happened to him. It’s disrespectful, of him and the sacrifices he’s made for me. I need to be thankful, need to talk to him.

Like I promised him I would, but never did. Okay, now I feel really bad.

Exiting the gad (rin), I feel suddenly tired, as if all that adrenaline that was pumping through me earlier just drained out of me all at once.

“Hungry or tired?” shea(3)va asks.

“I’m both, thanks for asking,” van(9)nis says.

shea(3)va grabs her husband by the neck and squeezes.

“Ahhh!” van(9)nis exclaims. “Careful!”

“I’m both too,” I say, laughing.

The coven fans out, surrounding us. Kiiziiziixii is quiet, though her hair talons clink together as they sway. She walks out in front of us.

I try not to concentrate too much on the state of the city. It’s bad, all of it. Gotta do something about that, just not sure what yet. I’ll figure something out. The Sphek will come up with something. We have to.

Back at the dome we’re staying in, Kiiziiziixii moves away from us without a word, headed in the direction of the Haven. It’s still intact. The Zomboids spared it any major damage. In fact, the damage it did take was incidental—the result of nearby explosions or battles.

“vannis and I will get some food for everybody,” shea(3)va says, moving through the entryway to the dome with her husband’s neck still in her hand, though I see now that her other arm is around his waist, and her hand is wandering along his thigh, creeping down…

JACK cuts in front of me, blocking my view. 7-07, PIIX, and 2-85 follow me inside. JACK moves ahead as I slow. The entry hall is just wide enough to walk two people side-by-side. I stop at the door to my room, letting 7-07 and PIIX pass. 2-85 stops in front of me when I grab his arm.

“I’m ready now,” I say.

Those deep blue eyes whirl at my words.

His hairstalk undulates.

And my pulse, glitch it to the pit of Eiech, quickens.

Post: 07.28.2006
Date: 10.26.2196
Time: Midday

We need to be alone for this, so I take him into my bedroom. JACK’s in the common room, so we should have a few minutes of privacy. Maybe he wants more time than that. Maybe I do too. Guess we’ll find out when we run out.

Adrenaline gone, I’m crashing. Hopefully shea(3)va isn’t too long with that food she promised. The bed looks so inviting, I want to collapse onto it, sleep for a few hours, try to forget what I just did, what I just became. That’s not gonna happen, so I banish the thought as well as I can. The covers on the bed are thrown back, just like I left them this morning, all ready for me to dive back under them, snuggle up. But no, middle of the day, and so much to do, just can’t do any of that. There’s only time for others now. None for myself. Way it has to be until my daughter is found.

Glitch, hope 2-85 understands about the mess of the bed, and the general disarray of my bedroom. Do wirewitches even care about such things? I sit on the bed, self-conscious suddenly of my appearance. I stand back up and make some effort to straighten the bed sheets, put the pillows at the head of the bed. My hand makes a swish as I smooth the top sheet, then sit down, pulling my feet up on the bed, leaning my back against the wall. Maybe looking like a cornered child isn’t the best way to go about this, but I always do feel a little intimidated around 2-85. He’s taller than me, he’s male, he’s strong, he’s a dangerous wirewitch, and that hairstalk writhes like it has a purpose. Just the two of us, alone in this small of a room reminds me of the Haven back on the island, where he gave me my second witchkiss. I’m confident that he’ll never do that again, but it doesn’t mean he won’t try something else.

Frightening warlock beast falls in love with scared little girl beauty. That’s how the story goes, right?

     (yeah

          it’s a tragedy, angel)

2-85 closes the door, still there in front of it though, his form actually larger than the frame. All the witches were wearing their cloaks during the ceremony. 2-85 sheds his. It slides from his shoulders. He lets it pool at his feet. The shirt he’s wearing is grey and thin, but form-fitting, stretching across his muscular chest quite nicely, I can’t help but notice. He’s wearing matching pants, but they only come down to just above his knees. Material around his waist and legs is a little looser than his shirt. No belt holding it all together, just friction. A predator—that’s what he is. Doesn’t need a weapon, on account of him being one. Why do I even let him near me? He stands there as if nothing is wrong with him, as if the wounds he suffered while protecting me aren’t there anymore. As if his hairstalk hasn’t been permanently shortened.

“Took you long enough to get ready,” 2-85 says. His voice is casual, but vibrating with an undercurrent of fervor that I can’t quite describe.

Glitch, pulse is still quickened, and I’m a little breathless. Either I’m nervous, or my heart is giving out. Could be both.

“Get used to waiting,” I retort.

2-85 smiles, takes a step forward.

I can’t wait any longer. I have to see. “Come here, let me look at you,” I whisper, looking over my cov (rin)-bound knees.

Moving toward the bed, or rather, toward me, 2-85 locks eyes with me, body moving with the grace of a serpent, the predatory gait of a carnivore. Even harder to breathe now, all that power bearing down on me. In these moments, I’m just a trembling youngling in his shadow. He stops beside the bed. For seconds, I’m frozen, looking up at him, with what is surely an uncontrolled expression of awe.

There’s a warlock, almost in my bed.

Banishing that thought, along with some others, I scoot to the edge of the bed, dangling my feet off. 2-85 grabs my hand as I do, and I let him take it. Metaskin ridges glide pleasantly against my palm. Not sure when I stopped being repulsed by this type of contact. Being close to JACK is a big part of it I suspect. Guess I’m changing. Or, if shea(3)va’s right, I’m just becoming more like I was before. Whatever the case, my hand in his is more good than it is bad. His skin is warm and rough—so unlike mine.

“syl,” he says.

“Shh, let me  look,” I whisper, a little more throatily than I’d intended. That tone of voice isn’t appropriate for this situation. If I was smart, I’d leave the room right now, or at least go get a chaperone. If I was smart. Not fair to 2-85 to do that, since I promised him we’d talk. Anyway, I can keep this under control, I know I can. I’m grateful for what he did, and I can’t deny my attraction—inexplicable as it is! How the glitch can I feel anything for a wirewitch?!? Here in my bedroom, I can control it.

Glitch me twice, that probably the most idiotic thing my mind has ever vomited out at me.

I stand up beside 2-85, pulling him around to face me. I let him continue to hold my hand while I examine the wounds on his arms. There’s hundreds of cuts, all closed up and healing well, not much more than ridges that look out of place on the circuitry patterns that paint his skin. I run a finger down a bare bicep and forearm, marveling at the solid cords of muscle that move beneath his alien skin. To my finger, most of the cuts are indistinguishable from the normal texture of metaskin. Still, some are deeper. Down at his palm I see a worse wound, one that will take even longer to heal—even though it’s already started to do just that. The middle finger on his right hand is gone right after the first knuckle.

“Oh, 2-85!” I say, wriggling free of his grasp and taking his wounded hand in both of mine, going to my knees because they’re suddenly weak. Holding his hand up close to my face—have to see it for what it is—I can see that the end of the severed digit is crusted over with folds of metaskin that seal off what would be an open wound otherwise. Can’t bear to look at the wound for long. He got this protecting me! I look up at him. All I see in his face is tenderness. How can that be? How can that face be that soft? He’s a living, breathing weapon! I bring his hand to my lips, laying a gentle kiss just above the wound. Bending down closer to the ground, I feel the backs of his calves, fingers searching for and finding what I expected to find there. The tips of my forefingers sink into wide grooves. Can’t feel the circuitpaths in those grooves. Don’t seem to have flowed back in, the wounds still needing more time to heal. There are other cuts back there too, but none as bad as these two. One on each calf, most likely from the same attack—the wide swing of a glitched Zomboid blade. I press my head to the side of his calf, kissing him there just because I need to do something. Down there, his hairstalk comes into view, and that’s what really stabs the knife home. There’s the burning in my eyes, my body letting me know that it wants to cry, but that something’s still damming up the water. I grab the end of his hairstalk as I stand up, pulling it up with me, careful to not hold it too close to the end. It jerks in my hand, almost slipping away, but I tighten my grip and shoot him a warning glance. Actually, I’m not convinced that wirewitches consciously control their hairstalks at all times, so he probably wasn’t trying to work against me. Then again, maybe he was. The expression on his face is one of…what?…embarrassment?…shame? The edge of his hairstalk is a mess of uneven wires. The ends of the wires aren't sharp, but it’s not a clean cut. Makes me think that the end of it wasn’t severed off, but torn away.

“I’m so sorry,” I say, bringing the bundle of wires to my lips, one last kiss.

“Don’t be,” 2-85 says, taking my hands in his and gently prying them away. The hairstalk drops, swinging against my leg before being pulled around behind him. It would’ve almost hit the floor at its previous length. And now…

2-85 takes my hand again. Again, I let him. What am I gonna do? Pull away from the man who made a permanent sacrifice in order to prevent me from getting torn apart?

“Thank you,” I say. “For everything you did for me. For protecting me. For…getting hurt for me. I don’t deserve the sacrifices you’ve made—I can barely fathom that you made them for me. I’m overwhelmed and sad all at the same time.”

“My body will heal itself. ”

“Your hairstalk will not grow back to what it was.”

“It is just one part of me. What’s important is that we both survived.”

“But it’s not just that,” I say, putting my free hand under his elbow, pushing it up, then moving my hand around to the topside of his arm. There, in the vein at the bend of his arm, where that bulging bicep meets up with his forearm, I can see a small wound that’s been open, closed, reopened, again and repeatedly. “It’s not that you kept me alive—it’s that you’re keeping me alive right now. You haven’t stopped sacrificing for me ever since the attack. I don’t think there’s enough thanks in the world for that.”

“I do love you, syl,” he says. His voice is plain, but his eyes are slow tornadoes. This close, he’s leaning over me, almost towering actually. Just how glitched tall is he anyway? This close, he’s practically a giant! Is it hot in here? Clothes feel tight suddenly. Maybe I wrapped the cov (rin) too tight this morning.

     (control, angel)

“Why couldn’t you just say, ‘you're welcome’ instead of complicating this whole situation by saying something like that,” I ask.

He’s squeezing my hand. “I protected you because of who you are and what you mean to me. I told you before—you affect all of us. I remember and feel things that I shouldn’t remember or feel as a wirewitch, and I’m very grateful to you for that. Even though we don’t understand why you affect us, it doesn’t change the fact that you do. You restored something to me that would’ve been lost forever. I can’t ever forget that.”

The burning in my eyes is fading, no longer needing/wanting to cry. Being replaced by something else though. Really, is it hot in here?

“W-What do you want from me?” I ask. Glitch, I stuttered! I hate it when I do that. Makes me seem like a timid little girl.

               (why oh why)

          (did you ask)

     (that?)

I know it’s a mistake, glitch it, as soon as the words are out of my mouth. Now he’s leaning closer. I retreat an inch or two. Some part of me wants to run, run for the hills, call for help. Another part—the part that’s keeping me here—wants…well, actually, it doesn’t know what it wants since it’s so confused. I’m stuck.

          (be not afraid)

     (angel)

          (be afraid)

“You know exactly what I want,” 2-85 accuses, grabbing my other hand. I let him do that too, because really, honestly, I’ve wanted to hold his hand for some time now, just been suppressing the desire. “And I think you want the same thing. But maybe I want to hear you say it with those pretty lips of yours before I’ll let myself do anything about it.”

My mind shoots me images of that alley back on the island—where I first met him, before he got witchkissed—and what he looked like back then, his mouth covered by a breathing unit and tubes. Back then, I had to rely on his eyes to read his facial expressions. Now, I have more to look at. Even though he’s wrapped in metaskin now, his face is the same, strong and ultimately kind. There’s a fierceness to him that wasn’t there when we first met, an undeniable ferocity that’s a product of the technosite infestation. More than human, less than human—he’s both. Part of me still sees him as Q’and’q. Don’t know if I’ll ever shake that, but if I can come to accept myself for what I am, then maybe I can also come to accept him for what he is. Because, he is wirewitch, and nothing will ever change that. Some fraction of me has accepted him for what he is. I say I hate what he’s become, but I have to ask myself whether my heart is even in that anymore. How can it be when my own daughter is infected too? If I can love her—and I do—then perhaps allowing myself to care for a full-blown wirewitch isn’t too much of an emotional stretch.

               (yes)

          (it)

     (is)

Okay, so I’m confused. I’ve felt all these things in such a short period of time. My memories don’t even span a year, yet I find myself dealing with feelings surrounding 2-85, Phoenix, and cyn(7)dar. Any one of them would be more than enough for a couple years worth of relationship turmoil. I’m so glitched up inside, letting my emotions and my…oh God, my libido roam free inside me. If my dream wasn’t a dream—like I think it wasn’t—then cyn(7)dar and I made a big mistake. I was so sad because of…something I can’t quite remember. Some sort of betrayal. Let myself be shoved back into cyn(7)dar’s arms. Knew it was the wrong thing to do, even as I pulled him to me. Then I left him again, well, sort of. Cyberspace fell, and I dropped off the scanners. Q’and’q came next. Just one of those instant physical attraction things, with no time to see where it would’ve led. He got himself witched before I had a chance to even talk to him. Then came my glitched g’ekk j’aa-eating con artist. Practically threw myself at Phoenix. That crashed and exploded, just like I knew it would, hoped it wouldn’t. At least my attraction to him was natural, considering the level of glitch the two of us experienced. We survived together. Neither of us would be alive if it weren’t for the other. Guess that means something, or could have meant something if he hadn’t been so glitched stubborn.

I would’ve had him writhing.

But he wouldn’t stop me from leaving. His loss.

     (no. yours.)

Now, here in my bedroom, I have 2-85 confronting me about my precise feelings for him. Yeah, as if there is ever going to be anything precise about my feelings for anybody. My life is never going to be that simple.

cyn(7)dar might be the father of my child. Does that mean anything here? Should it guide my feelings? My obligations?

I really, really don’t know, and that makes me really, really confused.

Those eyes of his are burning into me. I’m whispering, even though I don’t want to be. “I’m not sure what I should say.”

“Is it that?” 2-85 asks. “Or are you just afraid to say what you need to?”

That could be it, actually, glitch you, warlock. “I’m not afraid of you.”

2-85, believe it or not, moves closer at that, pulling my arms wide. This close, I’m having to crane my head backwards, look directly up at him. “Then why are you trembling?”

I am shaking, glitch it. “I’m cold,” I say, trying to crack a smile, maybe lighten the mood. I fail, unable to summon the smile. Too busy breathing and being…overheated.

2-85’s response to my claims about my temperature is to enfold me in his arms and pull me against him. Can feel his hairstalk coil around my waist, squeezing me even tighter. After a second or two of hesitation where I decide whether I’m going to pull away or accept this, I lean into him, put my arms around his solid abdomen, hug him back. His heart beats in my ear.

“Oh, I like you,” I whisper, more than a little shocked to hear myself say that much. It’s more than a little like, but I think I’ll stop right there.

“Is this better?” 2-85 asks.

“Yeah.”

“Getting warmer?”

Definitely. Was too warm before. Now that I’m squished up against 2-85, it feels like I’m running a fever. I don’t answer him except to snuggle up against him. This feels good, way better than it has any right to. I shouldn’t feel good in the arms of a wirewitch. Shouldn’t feel safe here either. Both feelings are surging through me now.

Is this just another one of my stupid-little-girl moments? Am I going to regret this later—this small comfort between us? Is this what I really want, or are my hormones controlling me? What am I allowing to start here? Confusion and questions reign in and around me, but all I’m really thinking is that I’ve wanted to do this for a long time. Wanted to hold his hand. Wanted to hug him, to be this close. To feel skin and metaskin—his metaskin—against each other. No static to cloud my judgment this time. Touching him never took it all away like touching cyn(7)dar did, but it came close. Now, there’s no static to take away, so I’m a lot clearer on what I’m feeling, and for the first time, what I’m feeling doesn’t feel tainted.

This is more than attraction.

This is me acting on attraction.

That’s scary.

“We can’t do this, can we?” I ask.

“What do you mean?” 2-85 is stroking a hand through my hair, combing it down to my shoulders. It’s really nice, so I’m not going to move, or he might stop.

“Wirewitches are forbidden to…be with humans, aren’t they?” There, I said it. Not in so many words, but I’m sure he knows what I mean. God, I’m glitched up. I’m actually okay with this. It feels wrong and right at the same time. What does that mean?

The hand in my hair stops momentarily, then starts up again. “You’re correct,” he says. His gravelly voice carries through his chest and into the side of my head. The vibrations tickle my nose. “It is not allowed.”

“You don’t sound concerned.”

“I’m not.”

“Shouldn’t you be?” I know I am. I think of JACK and how she’s going to react. Sure, she's teased me about him before, but teasing is all it was. I’m assuming she doesn’t know anything yet, or if she does, at least believes that nothing’s happened. She would’ve said something if anything was bothering her. I think.

“You’re thinking about JACK, aren’t you?”

He'd better not be able to read my thoughts, or this just isn’t going to work. “Yeah, I’m thinking about JACK. If you and I…I mean, what we…um, have…isn’t allowed, then I’m very concerned about her reaction. She does lead the coven. Plus, she’s my friend. I don’t want any friction between us.”

“JACK will understand if you and I explain it to her. Especially you, since you’re the closest to her. You’re her only real friend, and the two of you have been through so much together in a relatively short amount of time. Also, the effect you have on us wirewitches is strongest with her. Trust me, she’ll listen to you.”

Another thing I haven’t talked with somebody about. Adding it to the growing lists of things I need to do, but haven’t.

“This isn’t going to be easy,” I say.

“Nothing worth anything ever is.”

So that’s the question, isn’t it? What price am I willing to pay for this? How much pain am I willing to go through? There’s a limit to how much suffering I can take, but for 2-85, I might be able to go through a little. “I’m still a little confused,” I say, reaching up and putting my arms around his neck. Doesn’t actually work that well since his hairstalk’s in the way. I settle for taking his head between my hands. “So let’s go slow, and let’s keep this a secret from the others for awhile. Give me time to…adjust. Give me time to come up with a way to tell JACK about this.”

2-85’s eyes have slowed, the designs there flowing lazily, hypnotically. “Tell me that you care about me, syl.”

“I care for you, 2-85,” I say, knowing in my heart that it’s true, every damning word. I’ve known it for a long time, denied it even longer. Told myself I hated him for what he was, for what he’d become. Was probably true, maybe still is, but it’s overshadowed by a stronger feeling now: that I don’t give a glitch that he’s wirewitch anymore. Couldn’t get over that before. I let it entangle me, but no longer.

I’ve stepped off a precarious cliff here.

2-85 smiles at my words, teeth gleaming. His eyes become torrents. “We’ll go slow. We’ll keep it a secret.”

“Thank you.”

“But not too slow.”

I laugh, tugging on his hairstalk. “We’ll see.”

His smile fades. “I’m sorry to distract you from your daughter. Finding her is more important than any of this.”

“I…think I needed a distraction. Yours was nice.”

Footsteps in the hall.

I back away from 2-85, his hairstalk rippling down my side as it comes away from behind me. Still glitched hot in here. At least away from 2-85’s body heat, my own can vent. The cov (rin) is good for wicking away sweat. Good thing too, with how hot it is in here.

Door swings inward. It’s JACK. Of course it is. I’m fiddling with my hair and smoothing my cov (rin), not meeting JACK’s eyes when she comes in—several of the most obvious things I could do to look guilty.

I see it: Her eyes flick between us.

Nope, nothing going on here, JACK. I wasn’t hugging your warlock, no, not me, I hate wirewitches, don’t you remember? Never mind that wirewitches are my best friends and my own daughter has metaskin.

“sheava has some food ready in the common room,” JACK says. “You still hungry?”

“Very,” I say.

I follow 2-85 out. Passing by JACK, she grabs my arm. As 2-85 heads down the hall, JACK asks, “What were you two talking about?”

I look her straight in the eye and tell her the truth when I say, “ela.”

“Oh,” JACK says. “I thought you might be thanking him for saving your life and keeping you alive with his own blood.”

I take hold of her shoulder, guiding her out the door along with me. “Okay, yeah, I did that too.”

“Thanking him took that long?”

Too many questions, JACK, now don’t get all suspicious. “Had to thank him for each time he saved me. Took awhile.”

“You’re funny, syl.”

“No, just slow.”

She follows me into the common room, where the others are waiting. I can only pray that I’m a better actress than I think I am. I’d rather when she find out that it be on my terms. Better for it to be planned, than for it to be a shock. Nobody I know reacts well to surprises.

And when the person reacting to a surprise is classified as a living weapon, it’s best not to be the one surprising them. 

* * *

Later, in the evening, while I have everybody planning and gathering supplies, I realize that I left my cloak back in the gad (rin). 2-85 offers to get it for me, but I want to walk, so I decline. Might actually be nice to walk with him, now that I’ve got all honest with myself, but I don’t want to raise JACK’s suspicions too much in one day. JACK tasks 7-07 to accompany me.

I leave 7-07 outside the gad (rin) entryway. It’s the only way into the dome, so it’s the best place for him to guard. At night, the gad (rin) is sealed with pulse shielding. There’s a biometric reader strip hidden within the construction of the double doors. All I have to do is touch the doors, and the pulse shielding deactivates so I can get in. Neat.

“I’ll be right back,” I say.

7-07 doesn’t say anything, just continues to scan the area for any threats.

The light in the central chamber is kept on at night. Don’t know why, haven’t asked, just is. Staying in the shadows, I skirt the perimeter of the light. My cloak is right where I left it—draped on my throne. My throne. Now those are a few words I could not have imagined ever using before. I slip into the cloak, loving the feel of it, the comfort of it. It’s not armor by any means, but sometimes it feels like it. At the very least, the cloak is something I can hide in. It covers me, hides my gender, hides my markings, my hair, my face. Inside it, I’m just another nameless entity wearing a cloak.

Um.

Hmm.

Something’s out of place here.

Only takes me a second to locate it. Haven’t had a good chance to explore the full layout of the gad (rin), but there are side rooms and hallways off this main room. And right over there, I can see that one of the doors to one of those side rooms is ajar. I can see dim light, and I can hear movement. Somebody’s in there.

I put my hood up, hiding my face. Easing my sever-whip from its holster, I move toward that door. I slow my movements as I get closer. Turning my back to the wall, but not touching it, I inch my head toward the thin slit of light between the door and the wall. The door opens outward, into the big room, so my angle isn’t as good as I’d like it to be.

Can’t see much, but I think it’s a storage room of some sort. Not big. No more than five meters square. Mostly shelves in there, all filled with containers of various bright colors. Can see a row of rods sticking out of the far wall. Changing my angle, I can see that a long red container has been pulled off one of the shelves. The lid to the container rests crookedly on the floor. Can’t identify what’s in the container. Lots of black neoplastic and multicolored wires. Also, there’s a pair of feet and legs there, because somebody’s kneeling next to the container. The feet and legs are wearing black boots, so I can’t see any other details. Going to have to poke my head in, because my restricted field of viewing doesn’t let me see anything else.

Laying my fingers gently against the door, I slowly pull it open. Thankfully, it’s a silent maneuver. When the door is open wide enough that I can stick my head through, I do just that, thumb ready to activate my sever-whip if need be.

It’s nin(9), kneeling there next to that container, her back to me. And those are matrix interface units in that container. I know this, because nin(9) has got one strapped to her forehead. Her body is erect, but hunched and limp.

Oh yeah, she’s definitely jacked in.

Post: 07.28.2006
Date: 10.26.2196
Time: Night

The Blood That Binds

Pulling the door all the way open, I step into the doorway, putting the sever-whip back in its holster, letting my cloak flap back down, hiding my body and my weapon.

What, oh what are you doing, nin? Jacked up, jacked in…but to what? Cyberspace is flatlined, in case you didn’t get the transmission. Nothing there to jack into. Not a good idea to be playing with an MIU like that. A D-jack is always a possibility when the only thing on the other end of the connection is a black void. Opening your mind to an influx of emptiness is a good way to get yourself mindblanked.

She’s kneeling there, head bowed, the dark band of the MIU wrapping around the back of her head, getting lost in the messy black and red of her hair. A thin yellow cord runs from the right side of the MIU to a small device clipped to the top ridge of her ear. She’s wearing a black, short-sleeved shirt, stretched tight over her bent form. At the base of her neck, her markings peek out from under the flat collar of her shirt. The skirt she’s wearing is gray, all crumpled in the back where she’s sitting on it, and fanning out across her knees in the front. Her arms are limp, but close to her body, one hand hidden from me, but obviously in her lap. The other hand is resting palm up on the floor, as if it wasn’t necessary anymore, as if she’s discarded it.

Oh no! She’s not jacked in…she’s…

I’m rushing to her, heedless of the alarms going off in my head. If she’s D-jacked, then…then there’s nothing I can do. Jumping over the open container beside I crouch down in front of her. Reaching out to touch her, but think better of it. Her eyes are closed, but I can see her chest expanding and contracting with her breathing. Good, so she’s not dead. Doesn’t mean her mind’s still intact though.

Not getting away that easy, nin. I’ve got questions. You owe me some answers. You better not have hurt yourself so that you won’t be able to answer them. Got enough unanswered questions in my life. You're not helping.

I should probably go get somebody. Or get 7-07 to call for the new gur (dan). Though, there may not be enough time. Need to make the right choice here or I could make things worse.

Leaning closer, using my hands to raise her head, using my thumbs to push her eyelids up. Only see whites, her eyeballs rolled back. Nothing surprising there—it’s normal when jacked in. I finger the device at her ear. It’s curvy, silver, and shiny, its surface completely smooth except for where the yellow cord connects to it. There’s a small logo and a laser inscription below if that reads: 

TAKIYOMACOROPORATIONCYBERDEMONESS999

No controls on either part of the MIU. No way to jack her out by simply turning it off.

     (decision, angel)

          (right or wrong)

               (make one!)

Got two options here. Go get help or pull the yellow cord. If she’s D-jacked, then it doesn’t matter—I can’t do any more damage than what she’s already done to herself. If cyberspace has gone back online, and she’s in it, or if she’s somehow connected to a local node, then yanking the cord will, at worst, knock her unconscious. Glitch, easy choice.

I grab the yellow cord and pull.

nin(9)’s whole body jerks, then tilts sideways. She slumps to the floor. I don’t make a move to cushion her when she goes. A dark part of me is quite satisfied that she lands with a thud. Her breathing is deeper than it was before, but regular.

Yeah, okay, so she was actually jacked into something there. And now she’s sleeping. Couldn’t have been cyberspace. The wirewitches would’ve known. So, if it wasn’t cyberspace, then what was it? Nobody’s said anything about the local Atharan node being online. Surely most of them were burned out. When the cyberspace giant fell, it took all the little networks with it. No way they have a local node active here. I would know if they did. Somebody would’ve told me.

Glitch, her nose is bleeding. There’s a thin stream of blood dripping onto the floor. Must’ve bumped it on the way down. It’s unexpected, but I’m suddenly hit with a jolt of compassion and sadness. Seeing her unconscious there, so peaceful, and then to see blood—it’s an unsettling image. The real problem is that she still manages to look altogether pretty, even though she's just laying there leaking red from her nostrils.

I have a small square of white cloth in one of the pockets on the inside of my cloak. I pull the square out and fold it over twice, then use it to dab at nin(9)’s nose. The cloth eagerly absorbs the blood, quickly turning the corner of it dark red. Holding the cloth to her nose, putting just a little pressure, I use my other hand to slip the MIU from her head and from her ear, tossing both parts into the red container.

After several minutes, the bleeding has stopped. Now that I’m pretty sure she’s not D-jacked, it’s probably a good idea to go get 7-07. Have him summon the gur (dan). Best to make sure she’s okay, have her examined by a Driftling who knows what they’re looking for.

I’ll deal with the question of why she’s in here and how exactly she got in for later. Maybe much later since finding my daughter is a glitch of a lot more important than dealing with nin(9).

My knees creak when I get up. Glitch, I’m too young for parts of me to be giving out already.

I’m to the doorway when I hear a soft, static-injected moan. She’s awake.

     (run if you do it now she’ll never know you were here) (run!)

Almost run away, can’t bring myself to do it though. All I can think of is that I have questions that need answered, and that now is as good a time as any—I have a semi-captive audience.

I stop and turn around to face her.

She’s up on one arm, holding her head with the other, back still to me, now up off that one arm, hand to her nose, seeing blood-flecked fingers. Then she does what anybody would do after waking up on the floor with a headache and a bloody nose.

She turns around to see who might have done this to her.

Hi. I’m (2)syl. I bet that you’re convicting me with circumstantial evidence right about now.

“You look like you’ve been jacked,” I say.

nin(9) looks at the red container, then touches her ear. Her expressions changes when she realizes that the MIU is no longer there.

“Since this room is not open to anybody but Sphek members, would you mind telling me what you’re doing here?”

“Why are you here?” nin(9) asks. “Can’t you hear your daughter calling to you?”

“Always. Now, I asked you a question. Answer it.”

nin(9) laughs harshly, rotating onto her knees, facing me fully. “I’m using the MIUs. I think that’s glitched obvious, syl.”

“Why?”

“Why don’t you ask the wirewitches?”

“Why don’t you just tell me?” And what did you mean by that, nin?

“Because I don’t have to.” She’s up on her feet now, and she looks confident, steady. Getting forcibly ejected from whatever it was she was jacked into doesn’t appear to have affected her for long. Her nose is still bleeding though, a thin, red trickle reaching down to her upper lip. My eyes go to her hip, where her sever-whip rests and her hand hovers. Can’t tell if she’s doing that on purpose, or if it’s simply her warrior’s reflex.

Hmm, my hand’s doing the same thing. If it came to it, she’d have me beat since I’d have to move my cloak aside to get to my weapon. Surely nothing here is going to require us to use them.

“Actually, you do have to tell me,” I say.

Her face hardens, alluringly so. It’s not right that she should have so much beauty allocated to her that she’s pretty even she should be ugly. The rest of us are ugly when we’re angry. Why not her? It’s not fair. “Ah, of course, you lead the Sphek now,” she says. “Sure didn’t take you long to throw your new position in somebody’s face, did it? You know what, syl? You’re disgusting. I saw this coming, but part of me wanted to believe you’d rise above yourself.”

I sigh. “I understand you’re mad at me, but glitch it, nin, I don’t really know what you’re talking about when you say things like that.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“What? You don’t believe I lost my memory? You think I’m lying? Great, if that’s true, then there isn’t anything I’ll be able to say to convince you. You’re going to go on being angry at me and saying things based on a history I can’t remember!”

I’m breathing heavy now, upset about a great many things. Don’t need the stink of this j’aa in my life. I should be out there, tracking down those Zomboid glitchheads and rescuing my daughter, not standing here debating whether or not nin(9) is going to pull her sever-whip on me.

Most of me wants to turn around and walk away from this, let her get away with whatever the glitch she’s doing for now, think about what to do about her later. Cyberspace is still down, so how much trouble could she really cause? Anyway, the Sphek as a whole could deal with her better than I can by myself.

Unfortunately, a small part of me is as stubborn as glitch and wants to have this out here and now, and glitch everything else, because I’m sick of her. Haven’t even talked to her that much, yet I’m sick of her. I’m not going to take her j’aa anymore. I’m getting answers out of her tonight, one way or another.

I move my hand back to my side. It had crept all the way to the front and was pulling my cloak open, going for my sever-whip presumably. Something tells me that’s not the way to get information out of her. She’s a hardened woman. She’s a warrior. She understands violence too well for it to affect her in the way I’d need it to. She noticed—I can see that in her face—but it doesn’t affect her stance. Her body appears completely relaxed, as if this whole situation were boring her.

“I just think it’s glitched convenient,” she says. “You go away. Just like you said you would. You come back, claiming to have lost your memory. Then you start doing things. Just like you said you wouldn’t. It’s a little too opportunistic for my taste. You lose your memory, and suddenly nobody holds you to the promises you made. You get to break rules that even Athara-Meeatora has no right to break.”

“I can’t change anything. My memory is gone—I don’t even have a year’s worth. There’s nothing I can do about you not believing me outside of repeating myself over and over, but your actions and your words are upsetting. You say I have power, and that’s true, but so do you. You’re raising up followers of your own—converts to your cause. The difference between the power you have and the power I have is that I don’t want mine. I’d be content with giving up my leadership of the Sphek and getting rid of this glitched Athara-Meeatora j’aa if I could. But you—you need followers, because without them you don’t have any power.”

nin(9) laughs. “I don’t want power.”

“Oh really? Then what do you want, nin? You want everybody to hate me, so whatever it is, you must feel strongly about it. What the glitch did I do to you? What do you want from me? You want me to leave? You want me to die?”

“Several of those sound good,” she says, her voice a low growl.

I can’t keep the shock from my face. “Do you really mean that?”

“You lied to me. You broke your promise. Not even Athara-Meeatora should be able to do that and get away with doing that. You should be punished. You should be hated. If everybody only knew what you’d done, then they’d despise you too.”

“People already hate me. You’ve seen to that.”

nin(9) shakes her head, then wipes at her nose, smearing the stream of blood there. “Most of them are just sheep. They don’t know the truth about you. They’ll hate anybody they think is getting special treatment.”

“I never asked for any of this,” I say. Now my fists are clenched, fingernails digging into my palms. Maybe I should trim those. “If you knew me when I was younger, then you should know that. Being Athara-Meeatora isn’t all you make it out to be. It wasn’t then, and I can assure you that it isn’t now. I wish I’d never heard the name. I’d give it up in a heartbeat, but nobody seems to want to listen to me. It’s a curse as far as I’m concerned. You don’t know what it’s like to be branded.”

“You know glitched well that isn’t true!” nin(9) yells.

“No,” I say. “No I don’t. Memory’s gone, remember?”

Her thumb is resting on the handle of her sever-whip. She’s actually considering pulling it on me! How can she hate me that much? Was I really that terrible to her? shea(3)va would’ve said something if the blood was that bad between us. Guess that doesn’t change the fact that the blood is bad between us. Whatever happened between us was obviously concealed from everybody else—even my blod (sis). How could I have kept this hidden from the one person I shouldn’t have been keeping secrets from. And yet, there something more to all of this, some data hidden beneath the surface. She’s keeping it inside intentionally, not revealing it because she thinks I already know. She’s trying to goad me into blurting it out. Hah, the joke is on her, since I can’t remember a single second of my old life here in Athara.

“Fine,” I say, blowing the word out like a child who’s upset at a parent. “You said I broke my promise. I don’t remember what it was, so maybe you can refresh my memory. Tell me what promise I broke.”

nin(9) sneers, not answering right away. She appears to be considering whether or not to maintain her position that I’m lying about my memory.

“I don’t know what to do if you won’t tell me,” I say. “Is there anybody else I can ask?”

“Nobody else knows unless you told them. This is between me and you.”

“Then tell me. Please.”

Her eyes flash. She’s angrier than ever and getting angrier by the minute. I’m not calming her down at all, but I don’t know what else to do. She hates me and I don’t understand the reason for her hate. Don’t know why, but part of me cares. Really, who wants to be hated? I’m no different. But I can’t do anything to remedy this situation unless I know what’s going on.

Then nin(9) turns her back on me.

Hold it, what’s this? Is she crying?

     (jealous, angel? she can do something)

          (you can’t!)

When she turns back around, there are tears in her eyes. Her striking fury shines through them though. “You promised…that you’d never come back.”

I’m sure there’s a proper response to her words, can’t come up with one unfortunately.

“But you did,” she finishes, spitting the words out.

The room feels a little too warm suddenly. I wonder if 7-07 is going to decide that I’ve been in here too long and come running in. “I’m sorry,” I say, finding that my frustration is rising steadily, creeping into my voice. How can she hold me to a promise like that? And if it’s true, what the glitch was I thinking when I made a promise like that? “But that doesn’t make any sense. This is my home. Why the glitch would I have promised that?”

“Is it really that difficult to believe? You hated it here.”

“I can’t deny any of this, because I don’t remember any of it, but why would I have made that promise to you?”

“Because, syl, in addition to being your blod (sis), I’m also your sister.”

Post: 07.28.2006
Date: 10.26.2196
Time: Night

Sib/Riv

“(4)akel is my father too,” nin(9) says.

Knees go weak.

He’s her…

She’s my…

I’m her…

No!

“You’re lying,” I whisper, but without much force. I have no evidence that she’s not telling the truth. She sure doesn’t look like she’s lying.

“I have never lied to my blod (sis). Something I wish I could say about you.”

“How…?” If there’s an end to my question, it’s gone before my mind can grasp it.

nin(9) raises her nose and sniffs. She’s not wiping her tears away. She’s not denying them, but embracing them, almost as if she’s proud of them. I can almost let myself believe that she’s gloating at me, daring me to think of her as weaker because she’s crying. Well, she’s a glitch of a lot stronger than I am. No doubt about that. Apparently, she’s resigned herself to explaining things to me. Her voice, scratchy as it is, carries the low hum of sadness with it. “(4)akel got my mother pregnant with me, but he never went through the blod (mat) ceremony. As was her right, my mother never revealed his identity though. Only a few months after I was born, our father impregnated your mother with you. Your mother had kept your father’s identity a secret, just like my mother did. But soon after you were born, (4)akel stepped forward. Since it was the truth, your mother didn’t deny it. Before long they became blod (mat) to each other. It’s ironic. I’m the bastard daughter, but you’re the one who deserves that label, not me. He should’ve been joined with my mother, not yours.”

“I’m sorry,” I say. Didn’t I just say that a minute ago? Repeating myself, glitch it. And why am I apologizing? It’s not like I could have influenced any aspect of the situation.

There’s a pain in her eyes that I want to wipe away. I shouldn’t be feeling any compassion for her at this point, but it’s there anyway. “For once,” nin(9) says, “something wasn’t your fault.”

Sister! I have a sister!

“This still doesn’t make any sense,” I say, holding both hands to my forehead. “If you’re my sister, then why would I have promised to never come back? Why would you even want me to make that promise?”

nin(9) advances on me, her anger unabated—can see that unveiled in her eyes—even though her voice is measured and bored again. “You have no idea how difficult it is to be the sister of Athara-Meeatora and to not be able to tell anybody about it. You have no idea what it’s like to drown in the shadows while your sister dances in the sunlight. You said you understood, but you never did—not one glitched bit. Even in the end, when you finally convinced me that you did—by promising me that you were never coming back—you were just telling me what I wanted to hear. You lied. And here you are, back and breaking your promise.”

I’m still missing something. This isn’t adding up to anything that makes sense. Taking a step back, I ask, “How did I find out about this—I mean, the first time?”

nin(9) is still taking slow steps toward me. “Simple. I told you. I was six years of age, and you were five. If I had it to do over, I wouldn’t have told you glitch, but I was young and stupid.”

“And…we were blod (sis)…” Can barely bring myself to say that. Don’t know why—it just doesn’t feel right. Meant it to be a question. Didn’t come out like that. Tone of voice was all wrong.

“Not were. Are.”

I sigh. “Yes, but…why? I already had a blod (sis) didn’t I? Can you have more than one?” This wasn’t something em(0) or shea(3)va ever covered. I should’ve asked more questions.

nin(9) is getting closer still. A few more steps and she’ll be able to touch me. Maybe I should step back. “We were friends,” she says. “Good friends, just in secret. That’s the way it had to be. If my mother wouldn’t reveal my father, then I was bound by her decision.”

“But you told me.”

That pulls her up short. Instead of advancing on me, she’s now eyeing me, looking angrier than ever. “I supposed on some level, you deserved to know. Me, I just wanted my sister to know about me. Is that too much to ask?”

“No. Not at all.”

“And no, you can’t have more than one blod (sis), but that’s just another reason why the ceremony between us was done in private. It was just you and I. Nobody else knows, even to this day.”

“And why did I let myself have a second blod (sis)?”

Her eyebrows crease. Her frustration with me is growing. Can’t change that; I have too many questions. “Why do you think? We were sisters!”

That last word comes out with such force that it turns sisters into a bad thing—a something that should be avoided at all costs. A curse.

“And nobody else knows?” I ask. “I didn’t tell anybody? Not even sheava?”

“I didn’t tell anybody. Did you?”

“Sorry, don’t remember. Stop making me repeat myself. Though I think sheava would’ve mentioned it. I guess I kept that one secret from her.”

“Probably wasn’t the only one. Rules and tradition bend at Athara-Meeatora’s whim.”

If she makes me any angrier, I’m going to do something about it. The static’s not with me anymore, but if it were, it’d be spiking out at painful, I guarantee it. “What irritates me about you, nin, is that you’re so glitched angry that you haven’t stopped to think that maybe I’m telling you the truth. Maybe you’re one hundred percent wrong about me. Maybe I really did lose my memory. Maybe I don’t remember a glitched thing about you—about you being my sister, about you being my second blod (sis), about some promise I made to you. Haven’t you considered that? If you’re wrong, then your anger at me doesn’t make any sense. But you want to know what really doesn’t make sense? If I’m your sister and your blod (sis), then why the glitch would I leave and promise to never come back?”

“Because you are my sister, and you are my blod (sis),” she says, her hand on her sever-whip now. She’s not going to use it though. That would make even less sense than everything else today that didn’t make sense. “Being those things means you’ll do anything for the other person.”

“Even promise them that you’re never going to see them again.”

“Yes, even that.”

I’ve come to a conclusion. “You’re insane, nin.”

“Insane?” she asks, the expression on her face one that leads me to believe she’s actually considering the possibility.

“I don’t think you understand what a sister and a blod (sis) are. Not if you think that’s how they act toward each other.”

“I’m not insane,” nin(9) says. “No, I don’t think so. Not even a little bit. What I am is very very angry that you broke your promise.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Sorry isn’t enough. I want what a violation of the blod (sis) relationship demands.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I want blood,” nin(9) blasts, and suddenly her sever-whip is in her hands, the glowing plasma wire shooting into existence.

I’m spinning and running out the door before she can get any closer to me. This may not be the best course of action, but she leads the security forces in the city, and she’s a master of sever-whip combat. Going weapon-to-weapon in here with her is not something I should be doing. Not today. Not ever.

I burst into the center chamber of the gad (rin) at a full run. Sorta hurts. Actually, hurts quite a bit. The incision down there has mostly healed, but that doesn’t mean I should be putting my body though this type of exertion.

nin(9)’s calm, gravelly voice calls out behind me. “You can’t get out. I just locked the pulse shielding. A glance over my shoulder tells me that she’s not really giving chase, but is casually walking in the same direction I’m running. She won’t catch me.

Unless she’s telling the truth.

I run around the edge of the circle of light. Haven’t drawn my own weapon yet. Easier to run with it in its holster. Plus, I’d still like to avoid sever-whip combat if at all possible. Drawing my weapon is a sure way to not do that.

     (fight her)

          (all sisters fight)

I’m at the entryway doors, put my hand on one of them, and nothing happens. Double glitch. She wasn’t lying.

Well, blod (sis) aren’t supposed to lie to each other I suppose.

I turn around to face nin(9), who staying out of the light in the center of the chamber too, coming around the right side. The darkness is only broken by the sweeping line of her sever-whip.

Of course, we aren’t supposed to try to hurt each other either.

Guess neither of us are any good at this blod (sis) thing. Maybe we can get a divorce or something.

“You’re not going to use that on me,” I call out to her.

“Oh, I intend to do just that,” she says, and her tone lends credibility to her statement. She is going to try to hurt me.

“That won’t solve anything. You might want to reconsider before you go too far. You’re about to jump off a cliff, and you won’t be able to climb back up it.” Meaningless words, probably—things have already gone too far, already off the cliff. There’s too much history between us…apparently.

“I don’t care.”

Glitch, that’s it. She’s through talking.

Guess I am too. My cloak comes off, slides to the ground. My sever-whip appears in my hand, though I barely remember drawing it. The control surfaces conform to the curve of my palm, like the weapon has come home after a long absence. It feels so right there, maybe too right, as if the weapon wants to be used. Or maybe it’s me that wants to use it. Semantics I suppose. Who cares who or what wants to fight? What’s important is that a fight is about to take place—one that involves me. One that I’m not sure I can win.

     (ela ela ela ela ela ela ela ela ela ela ela ela ela)

Thoughts of my daughter force all other considerations from my mind. I will do whatever I have to in order to find her and rescue her. If that means winning a fight I’m not supposed to be able to win, then that’s exactly what I’m going to do. I glitched swear it.

“Stop right where you are,” I tell nin(9), because I’ve let my own body stop, refusing to back up anymore. If we’re going to do this, then I’m going all in. Also, I see a glint of metal on her belt. I didn’t notice anything there before when we were in that side room. She’s attached something that she didn’t have earlier. I’m guessing it’s the device she used to lock the pulse shielding.

I didn’t expect her to, but nin(9) doesn’t stop. “You look scared, syl.”

I am scared, but she can’t see my face well enough to know that. “I am, but not for me. For you and the damage you’re doing to yourself.”

“Damage?” nin(9) asks. “The only damage I’d worry about is the amount of your blood that’ll be running out onto the floor when I’m done with you!”

She goes from walking to charging in an instant, sever-whip flashing over her head.

Reflexively, I back up, my own sever-whip flaring to life, amazed when I actually manage to dodge her initial attack. The air centimeters from my right calf seems to explode with heat and sparks. The chamber flashes with lightning, crackles with thunder.

The automatic me takes over.

And it probably saves my life.

nin(9) is moving to my right, but I see that the end of her plasma wire is doing the opposite, heading toward me. I jump straight up, higher than I knew I could. Pain in my stomach because my knees are up tight against me, but I avoid having my legs swiped. While I’m still in the air, I lash out with my own weapon. The end of the plasma wire snaps in nin(9)’s face, showering us both with sparks and a concussion wave stronger than I’ve ever felt from a sever-whip. Coming down now, the end of nin(9)’s sever-whip glows in a line below me. I land with my legs spread, straddling that glowing wire. I’m hopping back, just as that glowing line streaks upward, then I’m falling backwards, on purpose, narrowly avoiding a very painful wound at the juncture of my thighs. I’m face up, back on my butt and elbows. The sever-whip is still activated, sparking and hissing against the floor, where it lies in a variety of smooth curves.

Get up now. I have to, or this fight will be too short, and not in my favor.

nin(9) is pressing her attack, coming at me from the side. I flip the switch, rolling away from her, even as the plasma wire is still retracting. Somehow I avoid burning myself. Can hear the snapping and popping of nin(9)’s sever-whip close behind me. As I roll, when I’m facing her, I get glimpses of her weapon, streaking at me, but always missing, just barely. Then I catch her rearing back. I use the opportunity to roll to my knees, then to my feet, reactivating the sever-whip.

“You dodge well,” nin(9) says, “but it’s not something you can do forever.”

I force a laugh. “I won’t be doing it forever.”

“You’re not better than me. You never were, and your lack of training over the past few years shows. Only the dedicated can become a master with a sever-whip. I tried to teach you, but you never really listened. You were good, but you never wanted to reach for your true potential. blod (eth) was never that important to you. Not back then, and certainly not now.”

Keep talking, nin. When you do it, you’re less focused on your fight with me. Your anger has a strong grip on you, around your neck in fact; it’s strangling you. I intend to take advantage of the situation when you make a mistake. So keep telling me how bad a Driftling I am. I already know exactly how bad I am at all sorts of things. You telling me isn’t gonna change a thing. Keep talking and make the mistake I know you’re going to make. I’m waiting.

“Are you going to kill me?” I ask, making sure my eyes don’t accidentally flicker to that device on her belt. Don’t want to let her in on the classified data of what I’m going to do as soon as I can figure out how to do it.

nin(9)’s voice is filled with razors when she laughs. “Kill? No. Maim? Yes.”

“Maim. Never liked that word much. I’ve seen other people maimed, and I don’t think I’d like it. How about I opt out of this whole maiming business?” Glitch, angel, you sound like…that con artist.

     (the one who didn't want you)

“But maim is such a poetic word.”

“Yeah, well, right now, I can’t think of anything that rhyme’s with it, so glitch off.”

nin(9) grins in the darkness, her perfect teeth reflecting the glow of her sever-whip. “Wit? From the Athara-Meeatora? Where is all this coming from? Who were you hanging out with when you were away?”

“Nobody worth mentioning,” I say. Well, according to her, I’ve already lied to her. What’s one more untruth between blod (sis)? “Just the usual. You know: con artists, Technomancers, modies, wirewitches, rivot bots.”

I’m attacking before I finish my list, plasma wire stiff and stabbing at her face. She ducks it easily. I follow her, swinging after her. She dodges to the side, unable to bring her own weapon back against me. I press her harder, retracting the plasma wire, then sending it back out again. It whistles as it goes, almost as if it’s trying to set the air on fire, coming out with such force that sparks fly from the end of the handle, just above my fist. She dodges again, only this time she stands her ground, coming at me with an attack of her own. This one’s so furious that I have to retreat, bringing my weapon in front of me to block. Don’t really think it’ll work—using a whip to block a whip—but it does, mostly. Most of the momentum of her plasma wire is absorbed by the middle of mine, but the force is still enough to bring both plasma wires tracking down my hip. Heat sears into me, and my cov (rin) is scarred with a wide, black streak where the material is scorched.

Control surfaces under my palm, I’m able to straighten the plasma wire and force nin(9) back. Retreating I find that I’ve stepped into the center of the chamber and the circle of light there. Momentarily, I’m blinded.

And naturally, that’s when nin(9) attacks.

She’s blindingly fast, and her maneuver has every right to poke a burning hole right through my shoulder, the end of her plasma wire leaping at me like some wild animal attempting to maul its prey. Almost blind, I barely see her. Only have time to do the first thing that comes to mind, the first thing that I shouldn’t do, because it’s glitched stupid in this kind of combat, but the only thing I have left probably, since if this continues much longer, she’ll have me on my knees pleading for her not to maim me.

Instead of retreating again, I jump into her.

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. A white fire burns at my shoulder. Can’t tell if I have a new hole there or just a groove, because I’m shoving one fist into her stomach, and the other—the one holding the sever-whip—I’m doing something else with it, namely guiding the plasma wire into that device on her belt. Something like electricity flows through us then. There’s a mini explosion near my hand holding the sever-whip, so I’m assuming I hit what I was aiming for. My other hand sinks into her stomach. I punched her as hard as I could, and it feels glitched good to hear that whoosh of air as I force it out of her lungs. Hurts my fist, because glitch it, she has some strong abdominal muscles. Worth it though, because I got the results I wanted.

I step back fast, careful to avoid her weapon. nin(9) is down on one knee, vomiting onto the ground, her sever-whip scorching a pattern into the ground, where it writhes and wriggles like a serpent in the throes of death. Spittle stringy on her chin and lips, nin(9) looks up at me, her face beautiful even as it is wracked with the pain of what I just did to her. “…mistake.”

Risking a brief glance at my shoulder, I see a furrow in my skin, right there at the shoulder. She didn’t drill me, but that’s a permanent wound there. Too deep to heal nicely. My lesh (writ) is damaged forever there, now intersected by an oblong valley. The flesh there has been cauterized, but it’s as black as the rest of my markings, only less natural.

Never thought I’d get to the point where I considered my markings natural. Guess I’ve come a long way from where I started.

“Ouch,” I say. “I’m a little upset.”

nin(9) looks at her hip. There’s a blast pattern there. What’s left of the device she had there is an exploded, smoking ruin. “Well done, sis,” she says, her eyes full of fury and hate for me. “But nobody will get here in time to save you from your debt to me.”

She’s on her feet, as if I’d never touched her, plasma wire flashing a jagged trajectory toward my face. It’s all I can do to backtrack and ward off her attack with sweeping slashes of my own. I’m using my sever-whip in ways it was never meant to be used. It’s coiled up into a flat spiral perpendicular to the end of the handle. Holding my arm out in front of me, I wield it as a crude shield. The finger positions on the sever-whip handle necessary to shape the plasma wire like this are awkward and difficult to maintain. I won’t be able to hold it for long. nin(9)’s plasma wire slams into it and rebounds in a shower of sparks. My arm absorbs the shock well enough, but one finger slips and the shield unravels. nin(9) senses blood, then she’s moving even faster. Her attacks are so intense and coming so quick, a panic fills me. I’m going to lose. The thrones are a blur around me as I spin and twirl, desperately trying to avoid the darting of her plasma wire. The fire in my shoulder has transformed into a throbbing inferno. Moving that arm is painful now. Not gonna be of much use to me for the rest of this. Thing is, I need it for balance. Keeping myself upright isn’t the problem; spinning like a tornado while trying to stay on my feet is. As I spin, I bend down, throwing out my arm. The plasma wire elongates, whistling towards nin(9)’s legs. It misses them, like I figured it would, as nin(9) jumps. I reform my plasma wire shield just in time to fend off a stabbing offensive from above. That one would’ve poked a hole through my arm lengthwise, entering through my shoulder, exiting through my middle finger. Ouch.

Pulse shielding is down. Where the glitch is 7-07?!?

Heart drumming a rapid-fire beat in my ears, I gulp for breath. Panic’s still there. I can’t keep this up. The automatic me is glitched good, but nin(9) is clearly the master here. Still, in amidst that panic is a seething anger that’s keeping me going. She’s keeping me from my daughter! I’m fighting with every trick I can summon from the reservoir of knowledge of my past, and even some that I make up on the quick. None of it’s actually coming from conscious thought, but from reflex. I don’t remember any of this stuff. Good thing the automatic me does.

Going back to fully upright, I stab forward, turning my plasma wire shield into a spiral cone that lengthens, yearning to reach out and burn a hole in some flesh, any flesh, hopefully nin(9)’s. It misses. And leaves me wide open. I see a wide swath of light flash between the two of us. Heat and smoke. Running backward now, scared that she got me in my stomach, just below my breasts. She did, glitch I made a mistake with that move. The cov (rin) there is cut open, edges peeling back already, edges black. Pale skin of my belly on display now. She missed though, didn’t draw any blood.

I find that I’m madder than ever now. At least the wound in my shoulder will be hidden by my markings. If she had got me in the stomach, which is still blessedly unmarred, the wound would’ve been…noticeable.

That is, assuming she was only trying to graze me and not disembowel me. Quite an assumption that is, despite her statements that she doesn’t intend to kill me. Considering that she’s currently doing her best to set me up a personal meeting with her sever-whip, how much I can trust what she says is certainly up for some debate.

nin(9) laughs, momentarily halting her advance. She stands there, legs wide, bent and ready to pounce, her sever-whip behind her, hissing against the floor. Her chest rises and falls slowly. She’s not even out of breath. Can’t say the same for me. I’m struggling for each mouthful of air. My wounded shoulder has that arm pressing close, cradled over the tear in my clothing. I’m trying not to move it because of the pain, but that’s going to get me hurt some more. I need to find a way to end this. As in now.

Letting go of a sever-whip causes it to deactivate. To activate one, your hand has to be pressed against a sensor, and a switch has to be flipped. Once activated, if the sensor is uncovered for more than a second or two, the plasma wire will retract. It’s a safety feature that’s built into every one.

Except for mine and shea(3)va’s.

Truthfully, the safety feature was there at one time, but shea(3)va and I modified ours when we were younger. Modifying our sever-whips like that was strictly against the rules, but from what they tell me, rules never stopped Athara-Meeatora and her friends from doing what they wanted. If anybody found out, we’d be in some sort of trouble, though I’m not sure how much trouble the leader of the Sphek and her blod (sis) could actually be in—especially considering the state of Athara at the moment. Illegal modifications to sever-whips probably aren't high on our list of punishable offenses right now. This isn’t my original sever-whip—have no clue where that thing is—but shea(3)va showed me how to modify this one a couple months ago. Made some other modifications too. shea(3)va wanted our weapons to be mirror images of each other, like they were before. We have them almost there, with only a few more changes to be made.

All I have to do is slide a finger across the right control surface and the plasma wire will stay out regardless of whether my hand is gripping the sever-whip’s handle.

That, along with one other modification shea(3)va and I made is going to turn the tide of this battle in my favor. I sure hope.

“You actually think you’re going to win this!” nin(9) exclaims, shaking her head. “I can see it in your face. Incredible! Why don’t you put your wen (pon) down and take the wound I’m going to inflict on you? It’ll hurt like glitch, but at least you’ll be facing your debt to blod (eth) like you should. Your lif (pah) will veer closer to the narrow path, and I think we’ll all be a lot happier. You’re only delaying the inevitable with all this dancing.”

“I can’t dance.”

“No glitch. I’ve seen younglings wield a sever-whip with more competence.”

“You like fighting children?” I ask. “Or just those you know you can beat?”

nin(9)’s face goes quiet. I got to her with that one. Sure hope I know what I’m doing. If this doesn’t work out like I plan, she’s going to take more than just blod (eth)’s debt out of me.

“I’m your sister!” I say, one last effort that’s not going to work, but I have to try. “Please don’t do this to me! I’m sorry, nin, for everything. Let’s stop this and see if we can work this out between us. I don’t know what I can do, but I’ll try to make up to you. Somehow, I’ll find a way. I need to find my daughter first, but after that, I’ll…I’ll do whatever I can.”

nin(9) looks away, though I have no doubt she’s still watching me in her peripheral vision. There’s movement at her hand. The plasma wire retracts, her hand and weapon limp at her side. Now, her chest is rising and falling faster. Something drops from her cheek. A tear perhaps. When she looks back at me, her eyes sparkle. Her lower lip is trembling. She looks sad and angry all at the same time, with the sadness outshining the anger in a heartbreaking way. I want to run to her and comfort her. It’s a good thing I don’t because her next word is, “No.”

Glitch, well so much for that.

“No?” I ask. “But I meant everything I said.”

“Lies,” she says. Her sever-whip activates, that fiery wire spooling into existence. Then, she’s charging.

I reversed my grip on my sever-whip while she wasn’t looking, so when I throw the weapon at her, the plasma wire streams out behind it in a rigid line, like the tail of a comet. My action actually gets a look of surprise from nin(9), though she dodges my sever-whip with ease. The handle and plasma wire miss her thigh by only a few centimeters, hitting the floor just behind her and coming to a rest. The plasma wire, still activated sparks and burns the floor, smoke venting into the air. The smell of it is a toxic thing, as if I’ve somehow wronged the sanctity of this place. I have. Glitch, both of us have. But her first.

nin(9) pulls her charge up short, because suddenly I’m unarmed. Keeping one eye on me, she looks down at my weapon, its plasma wire smoking next to her feet. The end of the plasma wire landed and went loose, curling around her foot, scorching a J in the floor there.

“Interesting, syl,” nin(9) says. “I see that you’ve been fiddling with your wen (pon).”

“Yeah, well it’s the only thing that vibrates around here,” I say. “But I think you already know all about that sorta thing.”

nin(9) doesn’t laugh, but she comes close.

Then my sever-whip deactivates.

nin(9) looks back up at me, her outstretched sever-whip hand relaxing. And smiles. “I gave you too much credit.”

Now I’m smiling. “No you didn’t.”

There’s that unmistakable sound as my sever-whip reactivates according to the command sequence I programmed into it before I tossed it away. The plasma wire shoots straight out for about half a meter, then takes a turn toward the ceiling, rushing upward at an angle

And right through the wrist of nin(9)’s sever-whip hand.

There’s nothing she can do, but scream and let go of her sever-whip, deactivating in midair, smoking and venting smoke like an erupting volcano, wires trailing like loose intestines, clanging to the floor. Following that, my sever-whip deactivates, yanking its plasma wire out of nin(9)’s wrist with a final sequence of sparks and the char of burnt flesh flakes.

I hear other noises around me—things my mind is wanting me to pay attention to—but I’m already moving at nin(9), got to get to her before she has a chance to recover. Little chance of that; I can see the agony reflected in her face. It’s not just the pain from the wound though. It goes deeper than that.

She’ll never use that hand to hold anything of consequence ever again, and that includes a sever-whip.

Sounds around us. Whispers? Shouts? Maybe it’s all in my mind. Don’t really know or care right now. Only care about making sure nin(9)’s no longer a threat. She’s cradling her wrist with her other hand, not even looking at me anymore, so when I slam my fist into her jaw, she crumples, deadweight. I bend down, grabbing both sever-whips, giving totally in to the automatic me, letting her have total control, not caring where she’s taking me or what she’s going to use my body for. Flash of light. Plasma wire spools into existence one again and final. Voices around me—that’s definitely what they are. People yelling. Shouting at me. Can’t understand what they’re saying. Doesn’t matter what they’re saying. To me, right now, all they are is unwanted background noise, simple static designed to confuse and distract me from my purpose. I ignore them. A thin rope of light encircles nin(9)’s neck, then begins to constrict. She feels the heat and immediately goes still. The plasma wire, somehow wrapped around her three times, constricts until it’s mere centimeters from her neck. nin(9) is looking up at me now, raw fright in her eyes, along with hatred and sadness. How can all those emotions exist in one expression? How can she look so beautiful right now? She’s balanced on a monofilament edge, and she still manages to radiate sensuality.

My palm and fingers flex against the control surfaces. I’m barely keeping myself from moving them in the way that will tell the plasma wire to retract without unraveling. It would tear her head off if I let it do that.

In my other hand is nin(9)’s sever-whip. The bottom of the handle is exploded. I think the end of my plasma wire must’ve hit it when it poked through nin(9)’s wrist. Interesting. I bring the end of it to nin(9)’s temple. From there, just a flick of my thumb and it’s all over.

Around me, the voices stop.

“Don’t…”nin(9) says. Her tone isn’t pleading, but her eyes are. Doubt she wants me to see that in them, but they’re betraying her.

“I didn’t start this,” I say. “But I think I should be the one to finish it instead of you.”

“syl,” comes a voice from behind me. It’s shea(3)va. “Not sure what’s going on here, but don’t do anything you’re gonna regret.”

I look up and around. shea(3)va’s there, just inside the circle of light. JACK is next to her. Don’t see any of the other wirewitches immediately, but oh, there they are, on the other side. They’re flanking some black-cloaked gad (rin) guards. shar(8)ra and the other Sphek members are there too. Off by herself is m(3)gan. In the shadows beyond are other shapes, moving, circling. The gad (rin)’s suddenly a popular place.

“What is going on here?” shar(8)ra demands, stepping into the light off to my left.

m(3)gan is moving in on my right. She has a sever-whip in her hand, but it’s not activated yet.

“JACK, help me,” I say.

She knows exactly what I mean because in an instant she’s next to m(3)gan. Not actively threatening her, but ready to do so if necessary. I hear maneuvering. The rest of the coven is interspersed amongst the black-cloaked guards.

“Don’t activate that!” I shout at m(3)gan. A flicker of conflict washes across her face. She’s deciding what to do. “You can’t get to me fast enough anyway.”

“I’m sorry, nin,” m(3)gan says.

“Don’t worry about me,” nin(9) responds.

“syl, what are you doing?” shar(8)ra asks. “Let my daughter go.”

“Can’t do that. She attacked me.”

“Attacked you? Why would she do that?”

“What the glitch does it matter?” I say, struggling to control my anger from creeping into my tone. “The important thing here is that it happened at all.”

“nin, is this true?” shar(8)ra asks.

nin(9) doesn’t answer, but she has courage enough to hold her mother’s eyes.

shea(3)va takes a step toward us. Wonder if she’s thinking of intervening. I can’t act against her, so if she does anything, I’ll let it happen, let her take the decision from me.

nin(9) turns back to me. “I hate you,” she says. “Do it.”

“You tried to prevent me from getting to my daughter,” I say. “I don’t think I hate you for that, but you definitely sicken me.”

“Do it,” nin(9) says, her eyes frozen with hate and sadness. The fear is gone. “I’ll kill you if you let me go.”

My world dissolves to pure anger. Who the glitch does she think she is?!? She’s between me and my daughter!

“syl, she’s goading you,” shea(3)va shouts. “She’s not telling you that—”

But it’s too late, my finger just flipped the switch.

Post: 07.28.2006
Date: 10.26.2196
Time: Night

The Dying (ii)

nin(9)’s eyes widen. There’s that fear that was missing only a few seconds ago. In the end, she couldn’t keep herself from being afraid of death.

Unfortunately, today isn’t her day to die.

Her sever-whip doesn’t do anything. My thumb is still on the switch, holding it in the ON position. But nothing’s happening. No plasma wire. No glowing. No heat.

No death.

Oh glitch.

Oh glitch.

Oh glitch.

What did I just do?

I didn’t mean to do it.

It just happened.

It was the automatic me.

No it wasn’t. Wasn’t that at all.

That would’ve killed her.

And not in self-defense.

But in cold-blood.

A final piece of me just died there.

I stood by while it expired.

nin(9)’s expression goes from fright back to anger in a flash.

“Coward,” she spits.

“No, I’m not a coward,” I say. “I’m so much worse than that.”

“There’s nothing worse.”

“Yes there is—I just don’t have a word for it right now.” I unravel the plasma wire from around her neck, letting it uncoil like a constrictor serpent releasing it’s prey. Once it’s clear, I flip the switch, and the plasma wire retracts. nin(9) bends her head to the floor, grabbing her forearm, just below the hole in her wrist. The whispering and voices start back up around me. I think my knees might give out. m(3)gan rushes past me, bending down to help her friend.

“She needs medical attention,” I say. “There’s a sever-whip wound through her wrist.”

shea(3)va has her arm around me suddenly, supporting me. I let my body lean on her as she guides me back out of the circle of light, letting me sit at the base of one of the thrones. “syl, you’re hurt,” she says.

I’m surrounded by wirewitches then. I catch 2-85’s eyes, seeing that he wants to bend down and attend to me. I warn him off with me eyes. Can’t have him showing too much concern yet.

“I don’t think it’s too bad,” I say, “though it does hurt like glitch.”

“What the glitch is going on between the two of them?” JACK asks, clearly directing the question at shea(3)va. Why doesn’t she just ask me?

     (because angel you)

     (don’t know glitch)

shea(3)va shakes her head. “I knew nin didn’t like syl all that much, but I never thought it would come to this.”

Through a gap in my protectors, I can see shar(8)ra kneeling beside nin(9). Her face looks angry, and she’s gesturing wildly. nin(9), obviously still in a great deal of pain, is spitting out responses through gritted teeth. m(3)gan is cradling nin(9)’s head in her arms, running one hand through nin(9)’s hair, kissing her head. Black-cloaked guards surround the three of them. Interesting. She has her protectors, and I have mine.

Guess we have more in common than just the blood in our veins.

shar(8)ra rises, her cloak billowing around her legs. Then she’s headed straight toward me. My protectors part to give her room to approach.

“You have a lot of explaining to do, syl,” shar(8)ra says.

“Don’t we all,” I mutter.

“Oh, I’m sure the truth is a lot more complicated than any of us want.”

“We’re not calling a formal meeting of the Sphek until I get my daughter back,” I say, ultimately tired and just wanting sleep right now. I’m still shaking from all the adrenaline and trying to avoid going into shock here.

“There’s no need for a formal assembly. Just tell me the truth right now. I’ll tell the others.”

shea(3)va breaks in. “Maybe now isn’t the time. Maybe tomorrow—”

“This can’t wait,” shar(8)ra interrupts, her voice firm and unwavering. “They were involved in sever-whip combat inside the gad (rin)! They will have to explain their actions—sooner rather than later.”

“It’s fine, shea,” I say, then facing shar(8)ra. “It’s simple.”

     (is it angel is it really) (nothing) (is ever simple with you involved)

“Tell me then,” shar(8)ra says. Looking at her, I know she’ll lead the Sphek one day, and she’ll do a glitched good job of it too.

I sigh. I’m tired, but I guess I can get through this. I tell them the story, starting a when I came back for my cloak and ending with where everybody got to see me try to execute nin(9). Gripping story actually.

"nin wasn't jacked," shar(8)ra says when I'm done. "Not that it matters, and not that you've explained why you were engaged in a wen (pon) fight with my daughter!” shar(8)ra says.

I narrow my eyes. Not really in the mood to be yelled at right now. “Watch your tone with me, sharra, and I’ll watch mine with you.”

Her mouth opens to respond, but she shuts it just as quickly. Her nose raises, looking down at me now. “Of course, syl. Remember, I’m a little upset to see you and nin behaving like that—in the gad (rin) of all places! You and her never seemed to get along when you were growing up, but I had no idea it would ever get this bad!” I believe her. She’s just concerned—for her daughter, but maybe a little for me too.

“I’m upset about it myself,” I say through a blown-out breath.

“Why would she attack you?” shar(8)ra asks. That she's even asking means that she believes it's something that nin(9)'s capable of.

“Ask her.”

“Don’t you know?”

“I know. She told me.”

“But you’re not going to tell me?”

“I’m not going to tell anyone,” I say, unable to keep myself from looking at shea(3)va. “Not unless nin talks about it first.”

“This is unacceptable, syl, not to mention immature,” shar(8)ra says.

“I know. I’m both. But it’s not up to me. You’re gonna have to talk to your daughter if you want to know much more. I have my reasons for not saying anything else, and you’ll just have to trust me as leader of the Sphek as to my reasons.”

“You ruined her wrist.”

“syl also spared her life,” shea(3)va says.

     (only by accident)

“I’m aware of that!” shar(8)ra snaps. “Whatever’s gone on here tonight—no matter what—nin will perform her debt to blod (eth) as she should.”

“I didn’t…want to hurt her,” I whisper, putting my head in my hands. “She didn’t leave me many options. She was going to hurt me. She wanted blood.” I wince toward my shoulder. “She’s better than I am with a sever-whip.”

“Unlikely,” shea(3)va mutters, but low enough that I think I’m the only one that hears her.

“I’m sorry for what I did to her,” I say.

shar(8)ra stares at me. She’s deciding whether she believes me. She’s deciding whether she thinks I really am sorry or not. Probably doesn’t matter. I wounded her daughter, and that makes me the bad girl—no matter what my position is, who I was before, or who I am now. I am the bad girl. “nin owes you a debt now. That will hurt her far worse than any physical wound.”

“What are you talking about?” I ask. I scan between shar(8)ra and shea(3)va.

shea(3)va runs a hand through her hair, mussing those orange strands. Some of them are still sticking up when she lets her hand droop back down. “You showed her mercy at the end of a wen (pon) duel.”

“So, I didn’t want her dead.”

               (oh, is that)

          (the truth)

     (?)

“She owes you her life now.”

“No she doesn’t.”

“She does,” shea(3)va insists.

“Okay, so what does that mean?” Not sure I like the sound of where this is going. I can’t have a person like nin(9) owing me a debt. My life is too complicated already without something like this thrown into the equation.

“Blod (eth) demands that, because you spared her when you had bested her in a fair fight, that her life be tied to yours," shea(3)va says. "Your life is as important to her as her own is, or, that’s the way it’s supposed to be.”

“That is the way it will be,” shar(8)ra says. “nin knows her obligations to blod (eth), and she takes them very seriously.”

“syl, looks like you have a new bodyguard,” shea(3)va says.

I sputter a, “Well…glitch.”

I’m sure there’s a lot more to say after that. None of us appears willing to say it though, because we all lapse into an uneasy period of quiet. Over there, m(3)gan is still comforting nin(9). I can see tears in both their eyes. m(3)gan is still kissing the side of nin(9)’s head and rubbing her cheek with one hand. It’s like a mouse comforting a dragon. Beyond them, I see the new gur (dan)—dath(2)—approaching. He’ll get her fixed up. Give her something for the pain. Me too, hopefully.

“What now?” JACK asks. She’s looking around, as if she’s impatient for something else to happen. That can’t be it though. Maybe she just wants to get me out of here and back home, where we all feel more secure. This should’ve been one of the safest places in the city, but it definitely wasn’t.

“We have many things to talk about, syl,” shar(8)ra says. “The Sphek has much to consider.”

Reluctantly, I nod. So much for not having a formal session until I get my daughter back. “Yes, we’ll convene first thing in the morning.”

“I think the circumstances call for an emergency session—”

“In the morning,” I say, cutting her off, eyes letting her know that I’m not in the mood for more debate on the subject. “Unless you really want me to moderate a discussion of your daughter’s unauthorized use of a MIU, where exactly she got an override for the pulse shielding, and her initiation of a sever-whip duel inside the gad (rin)—all without the benefit of a night’s sleep!”

I’m threatening her, I know, but I’m also irritated, in pain, worried, panicked, and tired. Not a good combination under any circumstance.

shar(8)ra smoothes a wrinkle in her cov (rin). “Of course, you’re right, syl. We’ll be able to think more clearly in the morning.”

“Thanks,” I say, and I mean it. Wasn’t looking forward to more confrontation tonight, and that’s exactly what a convening of the Sphek would be. Let me get a few hours of sleep and some pain medication in me before we go into all that j’aa.

“I will inspect the MIU chamber before I leave,” shar(8)ra says.

“Fine,” I say. I can feel the coven’s eyes on me—especially JACK’s. Stop looking at me; I know what I’m doing. “But your daughter needs you too.”

shar(8)ra looks over her shoulder. Remains wordless. “She has everything she wants.” Then she's moving through the ring of wirewitches, heading toward the MIU room.

In the center of the room, nin(9) is giving me a look of unadulterated loathing and pain. I feel sorry for her, as much as I can right now. One arm around m(3)gan’s shoulder, she turns away and walks out, following dath(2). The black-cloaked guards follow, clearing the gad (rin) of everybody, including those who wandered in to see what all the commotion was about. It only takes a few minutes. When it’s done, they exit through the main doors, leaving me alone with shea(3)va and the coven. shar(8)ra walks out shortly after that, only sparing us a brief glance.

“Nobody told the gur (dan) you were hurt,” JACK says, fingering the skin near my wound. Not near enough to cause me any pain. I can feel her metaskin idly tracing my markings. Guess I still have feeling around the wound. That’s good.

I grimace when she gets too close to the wound. “I’ll live. I just need something to take the edge off the pain.”

“Let’s get you over there and let dath be the judge of whether you’ll live or not,” shea(3)va says.

“Fine,” I say, standing with JACK’s help. “I just have one thing to do first.”

2-85 begins, “Shouldn’t you just—” I push through him and 7-07, managing to squeeze 2-85’s shoulder and give him a quick smile—the I love you, but I’m going to do what I want smile—that nobody else sees. I’m headed straight for the room with the MIUs. Everybody else can only follow me.

shea(3)va hurries beside me, grabbing my bicep. “Wait, syl.”

I keep walking, but look at her. “What?” We’re almost to the room now.

“What are you gonna do in there?” she asks.

As we go through the doorway, I say, “Look around.”

“And try a MIU on to see how it looks?" shea(3)va asks. "To see if it works?”

Not that it took much deduction for her to reach that conclusion, but she does know me so well. “Something like that.”

“Exactly like that,” JACK says, stepping through the room.

“That’s not a good idea,” shea(3)va says. “It’s dangerous. If there’s nothing on the other side, then you could end up brainfried. You know that!”

shar(8)ra put everything back in its place, but I see that same red container over there on one of the shelves. “nin did it. She lived. I’ll be fine.”

“Why are you doing this?” shea(3)va asks.

“I need to know what nin was jacked into.”

“Let one of us try,” JACK says.

I shake my head, blue strands flinging into my vision. “Absolutely not. I’m probably breaking some Driftling law just by letting the rest of you in here. There’s no way I’m letting one of you jack in. I can do this for myself with fewer repercussions.”

“Oh, so now you’re Athara-Meeatora,” shea(3)va says, the disapproval clear in her voice. But there’s something else in there too: resignation.

“Always have been. Always will be.”

“Glitch,” shea(3)va sighs.

“It’s not dangerous. nin was jacked into something. I need to know what.”

I’m staring both shea(3)va and JACK down. Not going to be the one to break first. Hope they can see that.

“Don’t do it, syl,” 2-85 says, his eyes communicating something along the lines of: Don’t do it because it’s dangerous and I could lose you.

“I have to know,” I say simply. Not a good enough reason, not really, but it’s all I have.

Shoving 2-85’s plea from my mind, I pull the red container from the shelf it’s on, setting it on the floor. Removing the lid, I briefly wonder which unit I should choose. Are they all the same? One isn’t wrapped as neatly as the others, isn’t resting as straight. Might be the one nin(9) was using. I pick that one up. It’s light. Feels easily breakable. The yellow cord has been plugged back into the silver device, and now runs crookedly to the headband.

I pull the yellow cord from the silver device, let it dangle between my fingers.

“Better sit down,” shea(3)va says.

“Good idea,” I say, doing so, right in the middle of the floor. 7-07 and PIIX are near the doorway, but everybody else is kneeling around me. I pull the headband on, fitting it to my forehead. It’s a five-centimeter-wide, flexible band of metal and neoplastic. Its black surface is warm against my skin. I have trouble getting the silver device clipped to my ear properly, so shea(3)va helps me.

Cross-legged on the floor, shea(3)va and JACK take my hands. “Let me do it,” shea(3)va says, taking the end of the yellow cord from me. “Just relax. Don’t open yourself fully to the connection at first. If there’s something there, it’ll pull you in. If there isn’t, and if you don’t try to force it, then you should be fine. If you force it, you’ll D-jack for sure.”

“We’d know if cyberspace was online,” 2-85 says. It’s his last ditch effort to stop me. Looking up at him, I can tell he’s nanoseconds away from leaping toward me and ripping the MIU off my head and ear. But he won’t. Because it’s me.

I close my eyes. Seem to remember that the transition is easier this way. “Do it.”

Feel a pressure at my ear, then I hear a click as the plug on the end of the yellow wire slides into place. I’m holding my breath because there’s only blackness. Nothing’s happening. Nothing going to happen. Because there’s nothing there.

Then I’m inhaling as deep as I can, taking it as much as I can because there’s about a billion rays of color streaming at me. My eyes are still closed—don’t think I could ever operate in cyberspace and realspace at the same time, and now isn’t the time to learn—so what I’m seeing is virtual. There’s something here! I’m connected! I’m jacked!

Colors vanish, as if the power’s been pulled. There’s a pain in my temples, where the receptors/transmitters woven into the headband portion of the MIU are located.

The lights are back now, streaming at me, but only for a second, because this time they don’t vanish, instead they

                                                  (STOP)

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