Drifting Away

029: The Obliteration     030: Aran And Company     031: Tale Of The Right
032: Tale Of The Left     033: Blue-Haired Girl     034: Man Of Many Names

Post: 03.09.2002
Date: 01.02.2196
Time: Morning

The Obliteration

Frantic movement.

“Let me out!”

“Wha—what’s going on?” Phoenix asked, disoriented from his slumber.

(2)syl thrashed about in his arms as she tried to free herself.  He stared at her blankly, his eyes adjusting to the morning light.

“Hurry up, I think I’m gonna be sick.”

“Glitch!”  Phoenix suddenly sprung into action, but the emergency blanket was proving to be quite awkward.  The untangling was taking too long.  Finally, syl freed herself and stumbled towards the side of the boat. 

Too late.  (2)syl’s body convulsed.  She coughed loudly once, and then vomited on the deck.

“Glitch!”  He quickly helped her the rest of the way to the side, where syl continued her ordeal.  He awkwardly tried to support her as best he could.

Finally she stopped coughing, and her body stopped writhing.  He handed her a packet of water.

“Here.  Use one of these to wash your mouth out.”

(2)syl did as instructed, and then, exhausted, slumped backwards into his arms, where he held her for the time being.

“I told you that food substitute j’aa wasn’t fit for human consumption,” he chided.

Given the lack of response to his latest comment, Phoenix guessed that syl wasn’t in the talking mood.  This being the case, he remained silent and spent some time in thought.

This is the second day.  The second day on this boat floating out in the middle of nowhere.  The second day alone with this girl.  The second day since that terrible obliteration. 

Firehawk: gone.  Lady Luck: gone.  Could be worse.  Could be badly injured.  Could be dead.  The actual Lady Luck is playing games with me again.  She saved me, but also stranded me out here.  How am I going to get out of this one?

And what the glitch happened to the island?  Dissolved by something called the Bleed?  Mechanical creatures that dissolve matter and then reproduce within a matter of moments, just to swarm and destroy everything at hand.  At least, that’s what syl said they were.  I’ve never heard of such a thing.  What horror of a technology is that? 

And then the blast at the end.  The blast that shook us all.  Might have been nuclear.  Does the Bleed explode when it grows to a certain number of members, or after they’ve consumed enough?  Maybe they just accidentally took too large of a bite out of the island’s power reactor.  Of course, there’s always the possibility that it was simply the Nation of Utopia’s Standard Containment Protocol Level 7: Perfect Sanitization.

Well, in any case, everyone that lived on the island is now dead, except for the lucky few that were able to make it off in time.  All those people gone.  Between the blast, the Bleed, and the riots, I wonder how many died.

All that death, destruction, and chaos, and in the midst of it all…Jazon.

Jazon, why did you have to get yourself killed?  I have too many questions now.  You waltz right into my life, tell me things I never knew about my father, hand me a message that I can’t read, and then die.  I only knew you for a short time, but you were the only living connection I had to my father. 

Why does it have to happen this way?  Why do I always lose everyone I ever care about?  Dad, Jazon, Maia.  Glitch, I only cared about K’Thos a tiny little bit, and now he’s gone too.  In fact, anyone that I might have cared for on that island is now also gone.  I guess that’s why it’s better not to care about anyone in the first place.

And, as Lady Luck would have it, the one who claims responsibility for the destruction of the island is right here in my arms.  The blue-haired girl.  This small, helpless, more or less naked woman, who has an equally difficult time remembering her past and holding down last night’s meal, yes, this girl would have me believe that she caused it all to happen.

You say it’s all your fault, syl?  Well, don’t worry; I’ll get my revenge.  You see, I’ve already started caring about you.  We’ll see how long you can last.

“Phoenix?” syl broke the silence in a weak, raspy voice.


“Yesterday you said that we’re going to live through this.”

“I did?  I mean…I did.”

“Then we’d better start working on Plan D.”

Phoenix smiled. 

“Yes, ma’am.”

  Post: 04.26.2002
Date: 01.02.2196
Time: Morning

Aran And Company

“Is not.”

“Is too.”

“Is not.”

“Is too.”

“Is not.”

“Listen, syl, he is too, and you know it.  He’s a no-good piece of coretrash.”

“No, he isn’t!  He’s not this horrible jerk of a…” syl faltered, “person.”

“Ah, but is he really?  A person, I mean.  He’s a Technomancer.  Can there be any shred of humanity left, or is he all machine?”

“Well, he has a human heart at least!” syl exclaimed.

“Wait just a second here.  What’s this?  You’re not in love with him, are you?”



Phoenix fiddled with a few more wires inside the boat’s open control panel.  Amazingly, despite its horrible charred appearance, the innards seemed to be largely intact.  Of course this didn’t necessarily help, since neither of them knew what they were doing. 

They had been taking turns poking and prodding at the strange electrical components housed beneath the control panel, and then flipping the broken leftovers of the starter switch.  No success yet.

“Okay, let’s try it again.”

He flipped the switch.  No response.

“I’ll bet Aran would’ve fixed this boat by now.”

“Cheap.  Oh, and by the way, you’re welcome for the wonderful job I did of cleaning off the deck while you were still recovering from dirtying it.”

“I already said thanks, you just didn’t hear me.”

“Ah.  Well, anyway, I’m glad you’re feeling better now.”

“Me too.  Although it is starting to get a bit warm.”

“It is.  Let’s take a break.”

The sun was slowly climbing in the sky, and by now, the glare from the water was almost blinding.  Phoenix wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead.  He was starting to get hungry.  He grabbed one of the silver packages of food substitute and sat down.  He toyed with the idea of eating it. 

He flipped it over and over several times without opening it.  Emblazoned in large red letters across the packet was a single word: “Saga.”  What, exactly, does “Saga” mean?  Is that the company that manufactures this j’aa, or the name of the j’aa, itself? 

He envisioned the warm, colored slime inside, and thought about how disgusting it would be to force it down his throat.  He glanced at syl’s vomit stains on her, or rather his, trench coat.  His nose could still detect its putrid scent.  Suddenly, he wasn’t hungry anymore and tossed the packet back into its container.

He glanced back at the wires protruding from the open control panel. 

“Of course Aran could fix the boat, especially with the help of all his techie friends.  And boy, are they helpful, indeed!  Let’s see here.  How many of Aran’s friends does it take to fix a boat?  Well, for starters, there’s Ta-Kyn.  He’s really good at fixing a boat, as long as he can steal parts from someone else’s—like mine.   I guess he doesn’t really ever fix anything; he just transfers disrepair from one object to another.” 

“Then there’s Greasy and his gang—The Pure, or whatever.  They tell you that they need some special part to do the job, and then, while you’re out getting it, they just up and disappear.  And finally, we have K’Thos.  He continued to work on it, but he still didn’t fix it.  Plus, if it wasn’t for K’Thos, I wouldn’t have had boat problems in the first place, because I would have been able to fly out of there, and we wouldn’t even be stuck out here having this conversation.”

“So, anyway, where were we?  K’Thos, Ta-Kyn, Greasy and crew?  Let’s see…  That makes like, what—eight or so?  So, it takes eight of Aran’s friends to fix a boat—and then, not even that well.  What a bunch of losers!  And where’s Aran throughout all of this?  Did he come over and help, or even stop by to see how things were going?  No!  He probably just sat around all day while all his buddies did his work for him.  He assured me that my boat would get fixed or he’d personally carry it across the ocean.  Boy, that was a load of j’aa.  I don’t see him anywhere out here, do you?”

“Well, at least he sent people to help you.”

“Yeah, whatever.  Some help.”

He paused to catch his breath before continuing.

“Okay, and then what about Tyillion?”

“What about her?”

“Well, under Aran’s direction, she hid you on my boat, right?”


“Well, she could have at last asked me first.  But no, she just had to slip you in there when I wasn’t looking.  I’m still not quite sure when that occurred.  Must have been when K’Thos and I went out looking for supplies or something.  And she did this to get you to off the island safely, right?”


“Well, she sure did a lousy job.  I mean, she should have picked a vessel that hadn’t been sabotaged.  I mean, Aran should have at least informed her of that, but then again, we’re talking about Aran, here.”

“Listen, Aran is not the horrible evil person you’re making him out to be.  Sure, he’s all gruff and everything on the outside, but once you get to know him--”

“He saved your life once.  That’s all.  Do you know him?  I mean really know him?”

(2)syl thought for a moment, and then slowly shook her head. 

“No, I…I don’t suppose I do, really.”

“Well, then maybe he isn’t as wonderful as you think.”

“But you don’t know him either, so maybe he isn’t as terrible as you think.”

“Okay, fine.  I guess I don’t actually know Aran.  I guess I’m just assuming that he’s an incompetent g’ekk because those are what all his friends are.  I wish I’d never met him or any of his friends.”

(2)syl seemed was stunned into silence for a moment at this statement.

“Well, what about me, Phoenix?” she asked in an a low but angry voice.  “I’m Aran’s friend.  Does that make me an incompetent g’ekk?”


“No, I didn’t mean—”

“Oh, sure.  And you also wish you’d never have met me.”

Ah, glitch.

“No, syl—”

“I see.  I’m just a friend of Aran—a jerk, a troublesome g’ekk whose sole purpose is to make Phoenix’s life a living hell.  And, furthermore, I’m a woman, which makes me an untrustworthy sub-human.  Fortunately, you won’t have to worry about Aran and his friends anymore.  They’re probably all dead, except for me.  Maybe I should just jump overboard and finish it off.  There’s obviously not enough room on this boat for anything but your ego, anyway.  Ugh!”

(2)syl kicked the boat’s control panel in frustration.  Suddenly, with a few bangs and some whirring noises, the craft shuddered and finally came to life. 

He smiled.  “Well, I’ll be glitched!  I guess sometimes it only takes one of Aran’s friends to fix a boat!  Excellent work!” he said as he jumped to the controls.

The boat was moving forward slowly or at least it seemed to be.  Phoenix wasn’t quite sure, because he had no point of reference with which to monitor their progress. 

His hand was on the throttle.  “Let’s see what this piece of junk can do.”  He shoved it all the way forward.  The boat surged forward but also protested with loud banging and clanking.

“Careful!  We don’t want to kill it!” syl yelled, worriedly.

“Good point.”  He quickly reduced the throttle, and the noise level dropped exponentially. He glanced over at syl.  She was still scowling.

Oh yeah, the Aran thing.  Better fix that up.

“Listen, syl, about Aran…I—I’m sorry.  Ah glitch.  I—I didn’t mean to hurt you.  My mouth seems to have a mind of its own sometimes.  It’s obvious that you care about him.  Whatever your reason is, I’m sure it’s a good one.  Like I said, I don’t really know him.  I’m just annoyed with him and his friends right now—that’s all.  And I’m not annoyed with you.  In fact, I don’t even think of you as one of Aran’s friends.  Now, let’s figure out how to steer this thing.”

  Post: 05.01.2002
Date: 01.02.2196
Time: Morning

Tale Of The Right

The boat moved slowly forward through the waves.

“Well, slow is better then stopped, at least.  Now, let’s try steering this beast.”

He pushed the steering lever to the right, keeping his fingers safely away from the whirring propeller blades that were only inches away.  The boat kept going straight.  He pushed it to the left.  The boat kept going straight.

“Well, wherever we’re headed…that’s where we’re going.  Hmmm, let’s see what we can do about that.”

He moved to the back of the boat and leaned over to examine the steering mechanism.  The steering device was a simple rudder attached to the propeller with rods connected to it for controlling movement. 

“Here’s a problem,” he noted, “the little rod-thingys that move the rudder around are broken.  Hmmm.  I might be able to rig something together here.  I just need some material.”

“I think there’s a towel around here,” syl offered.

“Wait, I got a better idea.  Stand up for a second.”

(2)syl cautiously stood up.  Phoenix glanced down.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.”


“My trench coat’s way too big for you.  This will be perfect.”

He squatted down and reached for the bottom of the trench coat.  As he did, his omnidriver finger morphed into a rather sharp looking instrument.

“Just be careful.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t let my tool finger even touch you.”

“It’s not the finger I’m worried about; it’s the hands.”

“Listen, princess, I’m not going to do anything that’s going to risk our little relationship here.”

“Just be careful.”

Phoenix rolled his eyes. 

“Yes, dear.”

He started cutting.  Sometimes neatly, sometimes not so neatly, the fabric gave way to the omnidriver.  The process was somewhat awkward, as he had to squat down right next to (2)syl in the somewhat cramped space.  Every time either of them adjusted their weight, the boat would react by wobbling, and changing course.  This made maintaining balance difficult.

Phoenix was coming around the backside of the trench coat now, leaving a trail of tattered material behind him.  He made sure not to touch (2)syl’s legs with either of his hands.

“What’s that?” she asked looking down at Phoenix’s hands.

“My finger-mounted omnidriver can take many forms,” he answered.  “This particular one is a fabr—.”

“No,” she said, squatting down and gently grasping his right hand, “I mean what’s that?”  She stared at the back of his hand, which bore scars in the vague shape of a bird.

“Oh.”  He paused for a moment.  “That.  Sahris did that.”

(2)syl’s eyes grew, and she swallowed, uncomfortably.  “You met him before he came after us?”

“Well, not exactly,” he responded as he continued his work.  “Um…how do I explain this…”  He stopped for a moment to think and scratch his nose with his omnidriver finger.  “Actually, I don’t really understand it myself,” he said as he resumed cutting.  “I just sort of woke up, and he wasn’t there, but they were.  He left cuts in my hand in the shape of a bird, along with a rather dreadful message—written in my own blood.”  He suppressed a shiver, and wondered if (2)syl was doing the same.  “He was gone before I woke up, so technically, you and I both met him at the same time.”


“Actually, there was another time too—right after he killed someone I knew—only Sahris used his blood that time.”  Phoenix looked away for a moment.  Max, what did you get mixed up in?  What did you get me mixed up in?  Was it because of me that you had to die?  Why?  I don’t know.  Your death was meaningless.  I’m sorry.

“Sorry about your friend.”


“Friend?  Well, he wasn’t my friend, exactly.  I mean, I can’t really afford to have friends.  I never stay in one place for long.  Plus, friendship can be…dangerous.  Say, you don’t happen to know anything about this Sahris guy, would you?”

(2)syl shook her head.

“Hmmm.  That’s what I thought.  Well, he probably didn’t even make it off the island, so I doubt we’ll ever see him again.”

“I hope not.”

“Me too.  There,” he said, as the last inch of fabric was severed.  “How’s that?”

(2)syl looked down, and took an experimental step or two.

“Well, at least I can see my feet now, and I won’t trip all over myself.”

“Good.  You sure you don’t want it a little higher, like another couple feet or so?”

“Ankle length is just fine, thank you very much.”

  Post: 05.08.2002
Date: 01.02.2196
Time: Morning

Tale Of The Left

Phoenix leaned over the back of the boat, holding scraps of his former trench coat.  He started the task of creating a makeshift rudder control.  As he reached toward the rudder, the cloth and his fingers came dangerously close to the spinning propeller blade.


“What are you talking about?”

“You don’t want to get your fingers shredded by that prop, do you?”

“I’ll be fine.  Trust me.”

“And you don’t want to get the fabric all caught up in it either.”

“Thanks, mom, but it’ll be okay, really.”

“Maybe we should just shut it off for now.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Why not?”

“Well, how will we get it started again?”

“I don’t know.”

“Well, there you go.  Besides, this way is more exiting.”


Phoenix rolled up the sleeves of his midnight-blue jumpsuit.  It was still morning, but it was already starting to get uncomfortably warm.  His arms were pink from yesterday’s sun.

“So, what does ‘192A’ mean?”

“Hmmm?  Oh, that.”  This one is going to be even tougher to explain.  “I assume you’re referring to the tattoo on my left hand.”


“Well, normally I’d say it’s my favorite number, but I’m guessing you wouldn’t buy that.”

She shook her head.  Phoenix finished off a knot.

“Well, it’s kind of a long story, actually.”

“I think we’ve got the time.”

“Well, since you put it that way…”  He tied another knot.  “I’m a pretty slippery person, syl, even if I do say so, myself.  I can get out of a lot of really rotten situations fairly easily.  However, there have been a few occasions where (I’m ashamed to say) I’ve actually been captured.  That’s when being an escape artist comes in handy.  It’s like a permanent ‘Plan B.’  Anyway, the most recent time I was captured, they gave me this tattoo.  I guess it’s sort of a prisoner ID number or something.”

“Who captured you?”

“I think they’re all dead by now, so it’s probably safe to tell you this.  Now, don’t laugh--the BAT's.”


“Brainfried Anal Tinwits…also known as Brotherhood of Analytical Technomancers.  Idiots.  I still can’t believe that they, of all people, caught me.”

“Oh.  And just what did you do to piss them off?”

“Well, that’s where it gets interesting.  I’m not completely sure.  As best I can figure, they must have some connection with Takiyoma Research, which was the target of our ‘little operation.' ”


Glitch, she’s observant.

“My former partner and I.  Anyway, our ‘little operation’ was to steal the DIRGE prototype.”

“Really?”  (2)syl raised an eyebrow.

“You know what the DIRGE is?”

“Decashot Ionic Recoilless Gatling Energy cannon.  A powerful hand weapon designed for use by Technomancers, right?”

Now it was Phoenix’s turn to raise an eyebrow.  “Amazing.  Yet she knows nothing of herself,” he mumbled.


“I’m just surprised you know what the DIRGE is.  How do you know that?”

“I don’t know how I know.”

“Like I said,” he muttered quietly.  “Well, anyway, it was great.  We got in and out of the lab without a hitch.  They didn’t suspect a thing.  It was only after they found the DIRGE missing that things started to heat up.  They were scouring the island for us.  They even sent out cyberdemons and everything.”

“And that’s when they caught you?”

“Nope.  Things were just fine at that point.  I was having a blast!”

“So, what went wrong?”

“Well, things were getting a little too hot, so we thought it best to split up.  We were supposed to meet up the next day at a certain spot on the island.  Well, the next day came, and I went to the designated location.  However, instead of my partner, a bunch of glitching BAT's were there waiting for me.  They conked me on the head, and next thing I know, I’m BAT prisoner number 192A.”

“Your partner betrayed you?  How awful.”

“Yeah.  Turned me in to Takiyoma for a large sum of money, I suppose.  You see, syl, I made a mistake.  I broke Rule #1.  Never trust anyone.  I trusted someone, and I paid for it by wasting a few months or so in a rather unpleasant prison.  In fact, come to think of it, I almost paid for it with my life.”

Phoenix paused as he tightened another knot.

“Yeah.  I still can’t understand it.  It’s funny, up until that point I never once doubted her.”

“Your partner was a woman!?”

“I was referring to Lady Luck,” he said in an annoyed tone of voice.  “She never let me down before, and she didn’t then.  She just took her sweet time.”

Phoenix sat back up, apparently done with his work.  In each hand, he held a strip of cloth.

“Well, there you go, syl.  They say there’s a story behind every tattoo.  I wonder what yours is…as do you, I’m sure.  Here, let’s try these things out.”

He yanked on one of the cloth strips, and the boat veered to the right.  He relaxed that one and yanked on the other, and the boat turned the opposite direction.

“Not bad, huh?”

“Sure,” responded (2)syl in a semi-sarcastic tone of voice, “now we just need to find out where land is so we can point this thing in the right direction.  This is, of course, assuming that we have enough fuel to get there, and enough food and water to survive the journey.”

“Relax.  It’ll be fine.  This is where ‘Plan D’ comes in.  We don’t have to make it to land.  We just have to make it to a hypercurrent.”

“Oh, and I suppose you know just where one is?”

“Not right at this instant, but if my internal navigation system is still functioning, it shouldn’t be too hard to find one.  Besides, Lady Luck is watching over us.  She won’t let us down.  Trust me.”

  Post: 05.15.2002
Date: 01.02.2196
Time: Night

Blue-Haired Girl

Phoenix’s arms were wrapped around syl.  He could feel her making some adjustments to make herself less uncomfortable, presumably.  She even moved one of his arms, slightly.  This irritated him, but not enough for him to vocalize a snide remark.  The night was freezing again, and despite his annoyance at the sleeping arrangement, he was grateful for syl’s warmth.

He took a breath.  The chill of the air attacked his lungs.  Maybe if I get a little closer…  He gently nestled his face into her hair. 

He took a breath.  Well, it seems to be warmer, or is that just my imagination?  I hope she doesn’t flip out.

He took a breath.  Various odors assaulted his nostrils.  The ocean, syl’s hair, sweat (both his and syl’s), his own breath, and…blood?  He cringed slightly as he realized that some of the blood from the Dokk that (2)syl killed was probably still in her hair.

He was not as exhausted as last night, and therefore not as sleepy.  He tried to relax, but couldn’t.  Something about syl and her awkward proximity unsettled him. 

She bothers me.  Why?  Because she’s a woman.  Is that all?  She’s a woman, but look how I’ve been treating her.  Most women would have just annoyed me to death.  I would have had to constantly stop myself from tossing them overboard.  That’s not the case with syl.  She doesn’t annoy me.  Well, she does, but she doesn’t bother me.  So then, she bothers me because she doesn’t bother me.  Great, that makes tons of sense.

I wonder if she’s in love with Aran.  When I asked her about it, she seemed a bit defensive.  I think she was lying when she denied it.  They’re probably secret lovers and Aran’s gonna rip my spleen out through my nose when he finds out that syl and I are sharing a bed on a regular basis.  That’s just dandy.

A strange blue-haired girl with no past.  Well, I like talking to her, at least.  That’s a definite plus, considering there’s not much else to do out here.  The fact that she can’t remember much about herself makes for rather unique conversations.  It’s challenging, and I like a challenge.

A challenge?  She’s more than a challenge; she’s a living paradox.  She’s quite knowledgeable about many things, however she has no knowledge of herself.  She’s small and vulnerable, yet she killed a Dokk.  And the way she wielded that sever-whip—with such ease and such mastery.  She’s almost as good as…

He took a breath.  Something clicked in his mind. 

Maia.  That’s it!  It has to be it!  She reminds me of her.  But how can that be?  They don’t look the same at all.  But their personalities are similar.  The things I do that syl gets annoyed at.  The way syl acts.  The things she says.  Her attitude.  Yeah.  I guess it makes syl seem…I don’t know…comfortable, maybe.  I know how to act around her because…because I’ve had practice.  And I think that’s what really bothers me.

The first time I ran into syl—or rather, she ran into me, literally—there was something there too.  That’s when it all started. “I’m sorry,” she said.  “You are forgiven,” I said.  Two simple sentences.  Yet they had such an effect on me.  I felt such…relief.  Didn’t make sense then, but it makes perfect sense now.

Maia, if only it were you and I having that conversation, instead.  I may hate you, but I still miss you.

Phoenix held syl a little tighter and hoped that she wouldn’t notice a few more drops of salt water in her hair.

  Post: 05.23.2002
Date: 01.02.2196
Time: Night

Man Of Many Names

His eyes popped open.  Oh great.  Not now.  It’s too glitching cold!  He tried to ignore it, but couldn’t.  Well it’s not going to go away on it’s own, so I’d better just get it over with, I guess.

Slowly, gently he unwrapped his body from syl’s, trying not to disturb her.  Carefully, he slipped out of the emergency blanket and quietly made his way to the rear of the boat where the engine was softly whirring away.  Somehow syl managed to sleep through it all.

He stood at the back of the boat facing outward, shivering slightly.   He could see his breath, and the night air made his skin tingle.  He took one last peek over his shoulder to make sure (2)syl was still asleep.


He smiled as he thought back to midday--when it was syl’s turn. 

* * *

“Glitch it, would you just turn around?”

“What’s the big deal?  It’s not like I haven’t already seen you naked.”

(2)syl growled.  In the next instant he found himself face down, his hands bound behind his back with the business end of (2)syl’s sever-whip. 

“Umm…I think I’ll turn around now.”

* * *

He sighed.  Women.  Why does everything have to be more complicated with them?  Man, it’s fun to annoy her, though.

He checked the time.  A few minutes before  midnight.  Glitch, it’s cold.


He awkwardly made his way back to the makeshift sleeping bag.

Phoenix climbed back into the emergency blanket as fast as possible without waking syl.  Gently, he slipped one arm under her neck, and draped the other over the rest of her.  He pulled her close.   Ahh.  Warmth.  And softness too.  Maybe women are useful for something.

He tried to fall asleep again, but he still had not warmed up enough to be comfortable, and he didn’t feel that sleepy anyway.  He glanced past syl’s head at a single scratch mark carved into the side of the boat.  Glitch it, I forgot to make another scratch today.  I’m definitely not going out in the cold again.  I’ll just do an extra one tomorrow. 

We should reach the hypercurrent sometime tomorrow, but what if my internal navigation is off?  What if our fuel runs out before then?  Even if we make the hypercurrent, this piece of floating garbage will probably be ripped to shreds by its force.  Our chances are slim. 

But if we somehow make it, what then?  Back when I was about to be executed by the BAT's, I wished I could have done something different with my life.  That was a few weeks ago, and what have I done with my life since then?  Nothing. 

No, not quite nothing.  I’ve managed to lose most of what I have.  Almost every possession I cared about was on that island.  All of my money I had so carefully hidden away in the matrix is now gone, or at least completely inaccessible.  The small amounts of physical cash I had stored on the island have been destroyed too.  Firehawk, and Lady Luck both lying in ruins underwater.  Well, “don’t play the game unless you’re willing to lose it all,” dad always said.  Funny, I never thought I’d lose it all.  Then again, dad probably didn’t think he’d lose it all either.

Strangely, I feel no loss now that most of my stuff is gone.  Well, maybe just a little for Firehawk.  Come to think of it, I think I had a lot more fun playing with people’s minds than enjoying my stolen treasure--people’s minds are my ultimate toys.  If I do not miss my wealth, then what was its value?

“Why are you a con artist?” she asked.  “I just am. There’s no reason for it, really…I mean, what else would I be?”  I responded.

Dad.  Why am I the way I am?  I am what I am because I became like you.  I like what I do, but…what’s the point?  Now I have nothing to show for it.  I can’t even use my own name freely, as any normal person would.  What’s the price of a name?  Why did you do this to me, dad?

“He wouldn’t have taught me to be a con artist if it wasn’t the best thing for me.”  That’s what I told syl, at least.  But do I really believe it?  Am I so used to lying to people that I lie to myself now?  What was the real reason, dad?

He studied the side of the boat where yesterday’s scratch mark was.  Plenty of room for more scratches.  And, there’s always the other side too.  Okay, if I live though this, I am definitely changing my life.  I don’t know exactly how, but I just have to do it.


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