

# In Makr's Shadow

# Book One: Symbiosis

By

Jack Shaw

#

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2013 Jack Shaw

License Notes: This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this e-book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to Smashwords.com or any other eBook seller and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

E-book formatting by www.ebooklaunch.com

# Table of Contents

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

CHAPTER THIRTY

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

CHAPTER FORTY

CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

CHAPTER FORTY-NINE

CHAPTER FIFTY

CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE

CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO

CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE

CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR

CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE

CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX

CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN

CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT

CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE

CHAPTER SIXTY

Dedication: to those who can read between the lines.

# CHAPTER ONE

In what used to be a city, lurking in the darkness of an alley, Captain Carlos Montoya stood facing the ambush point, an ancient asphalt pavement with deep potholes that looked more like crevasses, craters that looked like canyons, with eroded, saw-like jagged edges that could shred a man before he could fall to the bottom to die. Of course, there was also the possibility of simply falling through the existing turf.

Carlos fidgeted as much as any Shadow could and remain invisible to the outside world. Waiting days shrouded in darkness for the Cyber to move from point A to B was nothing. Still, he was always unnerved to come out of hiding. Carlos and his people remained hidden in the shadows all their lives; they were his soldiers, warriors, or guerillas. His soldiers fought and died, his warriors were heroic and his guerillas were stealthy. It all depended on Carlos' state of mind. Today they were warriors.

His warriors waited anxiously in the shadows of a building cluster; they were cocked like a weapon system, ready to explode and destroy.

Like the rest of his people, Carlos dressed head-to-toe with a Stealth cloak that made him virtually invisible, a shadow blending in the darkness and gloomy fog. His telltale heat signature vanished as his body's radiated warmth dissipated evenly through the rough-hewed fabric.

It was the same for the group of fifteen smoky apparitions behind him that also merged easily into the nightshade. Focusing his attention on the immediate darkest areas that lay between the buildings up ahead, he stood poised, ready for this encounter with Makr's Cyber Protectors. With luck, he would see his enemy before it detected him.

Carlos touched his wrist guard. "Check shields," he whispered to the inside of his right collar. In their Stealth cloaks, even their voices became a part of the invisible Outside. Only other Shadows could hear his words; other Outsiders, including cyberts with sound detectors, would hear only the wind.

Behind him, his attack force awaited his signal. They all knew the importance of the crossing. Each week, between ten and twenty factory cyberts traveled through this intersection to the Cyber factory that specialized in re-fitting cyberts with improved sensors, intelligence pods, armor and weapons.

Eyeing the rugged asphalt, Carlos was satisfied its hidden craters were wide, deep and random enough to restrict passage and slow down the cybert formation. He'd have to commend the pothole team. Across the street, Lieutenant Greg Jackson motioned to Carlos that his five-member group was in position.

Carlos signaled to Sergeant Kieran O'Shea who was crouching closest to him.

She nodded and reached behind her to signal the Runners.

Two Shadows removed their Stealth garments, revealing darkly painted bodies and faces, and positioned themselves a little closer to Carlos. Their decorated bodies were for show—war paint—and their natural body heat was the means intended to distract the lead cybert for that crucial fraction of a second they would need to accomplish the mission.

One of the Runners, a boy about twenty, flashed perfect white teeth as he grinned widely at Carlos and winked. He had a strong, fit body with well-defined muscle tone and a naturally bronzed complexion from being out of the shadows too often. Carlos' Stealth-disguised shadowy form wavered a bit since he couldn't help shaking his head and smiling proudly at his younger brother.

From his ready position, Ramón looked up at Carlos with hero-worshiping eyes that said he promised not to disappoint his big brother.

Carlos rested his hand on his brother's shoulder for a moment to communicate words he couldn't say aloud. Ramón understood.

The determined Shadow warriors purposely lost some of their humanity as their faces took on an eerie, diabolical presence while they flowed a few yards back into the comforting real shadows until they disappeared. Jackson, across the street from his commander, moved his hand, just a slight flicker of his shadowed self, to signal Carlos, who in turn, nodded to the Runners. It was time.

The two Shadow Runners appeared from the alley and darted in front of the formation, distracting the cybert leader for the tiniest fraction of a second. Time enough, though, for it to communicate a freeze order to the ranks of lesser cyberts.

The Blue Leader's head spun 360 degrees, probing the perimeter with its heat image sensors, which successfully tracked the runners. Its torso turret spun like a top, whirling with blurring speed. Simultaneously the metal warrior extended two tendril-like arms to the front and fired from a point between the pincers of each appendage, catching both runners in mid-flight as they began their leap into their random potholes to the trampolines below.

The rest of the guerillas shielded their eyes from the blinding flash, uncovering them in time to witness a red mist composed of their comrades' flesh, blood and bones floating to the ground in seemingly slow motion until nothing was left in the shadows but a memory.

Captain Montoya froze, jarred by the startling blast that had ripped his little brother and the other Runner into millions of unrecognizable pieces, their flesh, blood and bones lost forever. Although drugged with enough adrenaline to return fire at Makr himself **,** his body was powerless while his mind raced. _They have always had more time!_

With his eyes welling full of tears and his throat choked tight by emotion, he vowed revenge, promising to destroy every damned cybert, every damned machine he found on the planet!

_Damn you, Makr!_ Carlos screamed inside himself because he couldn't come out of his Shadow. _Damn you!_

His body twitched, his state of mind causing a tell-tale flicker of the image left by his Stealth disguise. Hopefully, no one was looking.

He had to regain his bearing. _Breathe. Breathe_ , he ordered himself. Still, his body language gave him away, revealing that something was wrong. He felt the shock; his stomach churned. In the clichéd fleeting calm before the storm, he accepted the responsibility for a fatal error of judgment as a sole tear dropped from his left eye.

Meanwhile, the cyberprotector's head whirled round 360 degrees, making an eerie high-pitched whining sound as it assessed the scene fully. As its sensors located additional Bio targets, two more arms plunged forward from mid-torso and fired waves of pure energy into the darkened alleyways. The force of the astonishing wavefire missed its intended target, destroying instead part of a building. Huge chunks of concrete and steel littered the alleyway and the main street along with interior debris and minute unidentifiable remains of the tenants who occupied that part of the building.

Aware that it had missed its target, the Blue Leader sent an error message that made its functions pause a microsecond as it searched for a repair module in its program. _The Bio resistance fighters were not where they were predicted to be._ The cybert tweaked and adjusted its response to the data, and fired again. Missed again.

Enough! It was time to use the heavy artillery. With it, the cybert could easily destroy entire buildings and insignificant residents just to get at the Bios who attacked its formation.

If Shadow timing was off, it would be over for those inside the nearest buildings.

It was now or never. Carlos gave the sign.

_Shields!_ His command was silent but the meaning of the gesture was clear. With the flick of his wrist, the four-inch long leather-like bracelet covering his forearm expanded and completely enveloped his fragile biological body with a nearly impenetrable shell. The shield covered his Stealth cloak totally, creating a two-dimensional, irregular oblong-shaped Shadow, as if tar melted or oil spilled on the pavement.

The other Shadows lifted their wrist guards in a close-fisted salute and glided to a prone position on the ground. The leather-like armor plate expanded, at first becoming a coffin-shaped basin with rounded edges, and then seamlessly melted into the background texture of the street and alleyway, giving the barely perceptible appearance of a shadow falling on black pavement. With the shield's heat disbursement feature like the Stealth cloak, the Shadows become virtually invisible to Cyber receptors.

Composite material made from cybert scrap armor make the shields tougher, more resilient, and a hundred times lighter than steel. Used properly, the shields can deflect the explosive force of a wave grenade, or a laser blast, or, in their strongest position—lying flat on the ground—the lightening-like energy bolt from a disintegrator. Unfortunately, human individual differences affect this situation.

Marta Rosienska positioned herself and her shield correctly for a lesser blast, protecting her upper body and head; but that was her fatal mistake. The force of the energy bolt was too direct for her shield to withstand—even angled and anchored properly. Her body slammed hard against the shields of others who were already falling back and anchoring as they hit the asphalt; her lifeless body ricocheted upward and back about fifteen yards to where the alley turned. Two rear action Shadow guards saw her body crushed into a bloody mess of bones and flesh as it crashed into the stone building.

The cybert head whirled to reconnoiter. Its blurring spin jerked to a halt for a millisecond each time it registered points in the dark alleyway—points where Bio targets now stood—and marked them for deletion. The total time it took for all points registered were equal to a Bio blink of an eye.

"Grenades!"

Jackson didn't have to repeat the command to his people.

Shadows wrinkled and folded as members of each team launched grenades. This time, the cybert-fired laser wave blasts came in rapid succession from all four arms —two aimed at Carlos' group and two at Jackson's group. In the next instant a dozen hyperwave grenades all trained on the cybert did the job they were designed to do—rendering the massive cyberprotector utterly helpless, and its artificial brain inoperative. It came crashing to the pavement, inertia and gravity responsible for its fall. On the pavement now, the Blue Leader, seemingly undamaged, still cast a giant shadow over the rubble of lesser cyberts, which were now mostly rubble. Scrap metal and parts.

With the shockwave over, the shields lifted simultaneously and the Shadows could see the results of their grenades. There were a few barely audible Shadow cheers and nervous laughter of relief.

_"_ Quiet! It's not over yet!" Carlos whispered loudly to his team. It is a typical human reaction, the whisper, but it was of no practical purpose here. If a cybert is in range, it will pick up any human sounds—even a whisper—bringing other warlike cyberts swarming like locusts.

While it was obvious some cyberts could detect a heartbeat, most operated by heat signatures—an efficient means to find hiding Bios. These cyberts didn't need to hear them. That would give them a little time.

"Carlos is right!" Greg Jackson's Shadow created a slight shimmering of reflected light and darkness that communicated to his people: _Stay in your places. Check each other. Make sure your Stealth cloaks have no holes. There may still be some Cyber activity._

All Shadows checked their Stealth garments for holes and other openings. In the murky world their forms take on a gruesome and grotesque ghostlike quality with barely a resemblance of human symmetry. Those same specters meld completely with the unnatural darkness of the alleyways. The Shadows merged with the shadows shed when the moonlight and streetlights shed light on larger objects. As the Shadows flowed against a dilapidated building, settle in the corner where buildings meet, or fall on the potholed street itself, the only sound anyone could hear is that of the wind meandering through the cityscape ventilating the passages between buildings.

_Keep moving constantly is the Shadow rule. Embrace the shadows. Become one with the darkness._ The captain and his lieutenant moved quickly and cautiously into the street, zigzagging unpredictably to find cover in the Shadows offered by concrete and steel buildings. Carefully avoiding the glass buildings that could reflect light and potentially downgrade their Stealth clothing's effectiveness, they weaved through cybert debris until each could see the cross street.

Shadows could communicate visually—if they had eyes on each other. Otherwise, they passed visual clues and a minimum of whispered words to communicate to those guarding the point, the rear and the flanks.

Carlos heard a single click in his earpiece from the fringe lookouts. "Clear, _"_ he announced in hardly a whisper.

"Damage report," Carlos mouthed the words to his squad leaders inside his Stealth face net.

"Three dead, no wounded," said the raspy voice in his ear.

"Who? Besides the Runners?"

"Marta."

He felt bile beginning to rise in his throat and had trouble catching his breath.

"What! How?"

"Not sure. It wasn't a direct hit, but I think she caught the full force of the blast. The wall..."

Carlos turned to look, seeing a crimson arrow smeared on the wall pointing to a lifeless, bloody mass of flesh and crushed bone at the bottom. He could smell the coppery smell of the blood now overwhelming the other smells of battle. No matter what the weapon used to kill, the smell of death remained the same. His heart crowded his throat and his stomach rose to meet it; there were tears this time, but no sobs. He hoped she didn't suffer.

"We were lucky," he reassured them, "but cybert reinforcements will be here in less than a minute." Carlos choked as he spoke softly into his collar communicator. Still, the sound he produced was more like the wind that naturally traverses the city through alleyways and streets.

Lieutenant Jackson ordered his group quietly. "Okay, on that cheerful note, let's not make it easy for the reinforcements to find us and kill us." He sensed in the Shadows a murmur of pessimism and loss of spirit, and now there was an out-of-place, unintentional chuckle.

"I mean it!" he barked at them, a gust of wind slapping the side of buildings. "We can't afford to be careless. Set the mines, collect our booty, and let's move!" He didn't want to give them time to think about their increasingly desperate situation either.

Carlos motioned to his group to move out. Jackson did the same. Each group had a job to do. Carlos' group, using laser axes, removed and bagged the cybert heads to include the artificial intelligence or AI globular package and the inner stem that extends further into the protective body. They performed these operations on all of the cyberts equipped with an intelligence center. All except for the cybert protector, the Blue Leader; this was left for Carlos. A few in the group looked for other cybert components, useful as salvageable technology or weapons.

Meanwhile, Jackson's group set about placing plastic explosive charges in the cybert scrap bodies that lay headless on the street; others were engaged placing motion detectors to trigger the booby traps that they set around the perimeter. Armed with small neural wave scramblers, the traps when triggered could fry the brains of any cybert within a two-mile radius without damaging the city's ancient buildings. The remnants of the pre-Makr world were going to crumble on their own—without the weapon chief's personal help.

The threat of further damage and danger came from the cyberts who would come to investigate from more than two miles out and the shadow soldiers set about removing the metal scrap and decomposing biological flesh and bone. If everything worked according to plan, the cyberts coming to remove these obstacles to machine-efficient travel would fall victim to the neural wave scramblers. Setting the booby traps is simple harassment—though a Bio can't truly harass a machine; however, one could, at least, disrupt production.

The question on every Shadow's mind: _Was it possible reinforcement cyberts already know better than to touch scrap cybert?_ The obvious answer: _It was only a matter of time._ The traps were only a cover for the salvage operation, destroying potential Cyber eyewitnesses until the Shadow teams had got away cleanly.

Jackson knew the only way to keep up with Makr's cybert army was to use its own tools against it so he made it a point on any mission to gather any new weapons he discovered in the cybert arsenal. Once back in his Shadow group's home, the Nest, he would analyze the scavenged weapons for potential Shadow application. Half the cooled arsenal and armor would be of some value, while the rest of the parts would be too heavy and thus impractical for Shadows to carry. His soldiers respected his ingenuity as he went about the scene indicating which of the weapon systems and body parts they were to carry back with them.

"Hurry up, people. Let's get out of here."

Carlos knelt to examine The Blue Leader. This one was different from the others he'd seen. It had barely a scratch on it, meaning improved armor, while the other cyberprotectors he had come up against were scorched, dented and mangled pieces of metal.

Kieran signed rather than use her public communicator, _Well-armed?_ She had finished her job and was awaiting further orders.

_Yeah, with four of them,_ Carlos pointed and motioned a reply.

Sergeant Kieran O'Shea stared at the four arms, each with built-in disintegrators and wave lasers. The fear that crept up and lodged in her throat made her ill. She turned away, as if to deny anyone the chance to x-ray her Stealth and see the misery on her face.

While she ignored the pungent smell of bonded metal and plastic along with the scorched tar from the pavement, the sickening sweet aroma of burnt flesh and the coppery smell of blood was making her nauseous. But she had to be there. She had to be there for Carlos.

_Sorry about Marta and Ramón, Carlos. I know you were close to both of them,_ her body language said.

Thanks.

_Will you be all right?_ she asked.

He shrugged and paused for a moment, studying her for an instant and changed the subject. _What about you? You look tired, Kieran._

Carlos studied her briefly. Not even her Stealth covering could hide the image of a cowed Shadow from him. She was trying to hide her mental fatigue, but he saw right through her.

She was one of his best Shadows, but she'd had enough of seeing her fellow soldiers and innocent civilians die in collateral damage. He knew he'd have to lose her anyway. There was too much at stake to have a Shadow combatant and tactician who thought cause was for naught.

He turned his attention to Marta was killed and turned away quickly, unnerved by death's frozen agony depicted on her face. She had been very special to him once, but that hadn't worked out. _This godforsaken world!_

To deal with his pain he denied that it was her blood that was splattered and smeared on the wall. The pain! Hers. His. When they were one... _Aren't those memories painful enough? Now this... Not quite the same._

The shock of her sudden death made him remember all of their tender moments. _Her kindness. Their laughter. He could almost hear that laughter now. Then, the fights because he couldn't relax. He couldn't stop being who he is. That was at the heart of it, wasn't it?_

He often wondered why couldn't he just live, co-exist with Makr like some of the noncombatants that survived Outside? Or, maybe even go Inside and accept Makr? _Maybe the Shadow People were wrong—we're wrong--had been all along. Maybe Life is better with Makr. Easier, maybe. If we can just go along... Surrender?_

He rejected that thought almost as quickly as he thought it! He felt a single tear roll down his face. Carlos commanded himself to "get over it." Sometimes you have to be like a machine—cold and methodical. Today he had lost a lover and a brother, and he couldn't stop to mourn.

He held out his hand to Kieran. _Hand me an axe._ She handed him one.

He turned away from her and went back to work. She stepped away trancelike in her misery—seeing, but not seeing—and just stood to the side out of the way. Angling the laser ax on the neck of Blue Leader, Carlos gripped the trigger to create the paper-thin laser blade capable of slicing through the strong metal casing. But the casing held. The laser had no effect! The spillover laser beam was cutting through the pavement, creating rivulets of molten rock and tar but not affecting the cybert metal. _Damn!_

As he concentrated the laser blade on the same location, the shielded grip was getting warm to the touch, too warm, and then hot. He released the trigger, but it was stuck in the _on_ position. While the laser ax continued functioning with no apparent effect on the cybert, Carlos found himself engaged in trying to prevent another horrific disaster. He gripped the ax and shook it ferociously to jar the trigger loose.

He'd been only marginally successful at keeping the laser's active blade slicing just the pavement where it could do the least amount of damage to people. He heard the sizzle before he smelled burning flesh, and dropped the tool, ripping away dead layers of flesh from his hand; the Stealth covering his hand was seemingly unharmed, yet the intense heat had managed penetrate it to burn his skin. He felt the most excruciating pain for a moment that disappeared when as he realized the laser ax had not finished its destructive path.

Striking the pavement and lying on its side, the force of inertia kept the laser ax turning roughly 180 degrees. The paper-thin laser beam intensified and sliced through the building in its path across the street at several different angles before stabilizing and blinking out; that deadly beam, narrowly missed the Shadows nearby before it blinked out. Quickly, Carlos turned his attention toward the building that now had knife-like perforations clean through the ground floors. Severed from its foundation and at various structural locations, the building was sitting precariously on the imperfect cuts with only friction to keep it from sliding down in pieces and crashing into the surrounding buildings.

He heard no screams coming from within. That could mean many Insider inhabitants were alive for now but oblivious to the sudden death brewing outside their walls. There was always possible collateral damage to those Inside when the Shadows battled the Cyber, but the result of this was unbelievably sad. They succeeded with the ambush, while possibly killing hundreds or even thousands of their own kind. Still the mission had to continue.

The air filled with audible gasps as he witnessed the detached part of the building scrape a few inches along the laser line, then stop. All Shadows froze in place, aware now that the connection between building and foundation had been totally severed. In the eerie silence, both Carlos and Jackson were feeling the same fear of their charges, knowing most would want to flee to save themselves, while not admitting it—at least not now. Truth was, if the building came down, they couldn't move fast enough anyway.

The building's stability was shaky, although so far it was holding together. Any major vibration would bring the whole thing tumbling down.

Carlos looked upward and realized this building with its thirty or forty stories was a small one in comparison to its skyscraper neighbors reaching up some two hundred or more stories. Damage to any one of those in the right places and the others could crash to the earth like dominoes.

When the building's friction finally gave in to gravity and sheared off its foundation, collapsing, it would probably take some of the surrounding buildings to the ground as well.

The numbers of deaths became unfathomable.

Even so, Carlos tried to admit to himself the results of the accident was _minor_ collateral damage in the scheme of things—the end-result justifying the means. That is, if you didn't count the dead residents. The building's recent movement had aggravated and accelerated the situation. The slight shift of concrete and steel loosened a number of ancient bricks that fell to the pavement. Shadows around the buildings swept like the wind through the alleys and streets.

Most of the Shadows' except for the leaders and those in the immediate vicinity had scattered and pulled back away from the precarious building. The building's collapse may have been the least of Carlos' worries. The laser ax, no longer emitting an active beam, continued to build energy internally as it begun glowing red-orange—then turns white.

"It's going to blow! Get down! Shields!" Kieran yelled as she yanked a loose portion of her Stealth covering from her own body to use as an extra protective barrier, grasped the laser ax by its handle and flung it upward high in the air far away from the others.

The ax exploded in mid-air disintegrating her piece of Stealth along with it. Her comrades lay face down protected by their shields; however, she wasn't. There was a blinding white light, then nothing but darkness.

As the others lowered their shields and recovered, they found her sitting against the wall of a building. The energy of the blast had catapulted her against the building's outer shell, the wind knocked out of her. Her Stealth gone, her dark undergarments shredded and net face guard pitted with dust by the blast.

Carlos was up quickly and glanced toward the building that could still come down in any second. Amazingly, there was no movement. As he turned back toward the others, he saw her.

"Kieran!" Carlos rushed to her side. She turned to him, her eyes glazed, empty of life. "Are you all right?"

She was frozen—catatonic. He grabbed hold of her so she knew he was there. Finally, she shook her head as if something had snapped inside it.

"No time for shield...no time for shield..." she murmured.

Carlos acknowledged, "Everyone's okay. How are you?"

"Why are you shouting?"

A silent pause, then, "Sorry, I guess, I am. Hearing is okay, then."

But he sensed something else was wrong.

He lifted the Stealth net that covered her face and neck. Gray dust from the blast pasted and slightly larger debris pitted her reddened and blistered skin. Dark rivulets of blood from the corners of her eyes streaked down her gray face. She had tried covering her eyes but not soon enough.

"Can't see. I'm blind."

While her words were direct, emotionless, her tears flowed, trying to cool the once beautiful blue-gray eyes. The once penetrating, intelligent eyes could no longer see. She felt no pain now; the excruciating pain would come later. She tried to embrace the darkness as a Shadow for comfort, but she knew this shadow was false; the darkness was of her own doing. With Kieran's eyes covered in a gray haze behind fused lids, the blast had rendered them useless.

"Don't worry, Kieran," he said as he added another Stealth garment to cover her. "We can fix those eyes, can't we, Jackson?"

Jackson nodded to himself, knowing that she couldn't see him standing three feet from her.

"Beyond that," Carlos continued, "are you okay?"

She felt his hand on her shoulder and his tender touch.

"Yeah...sure. Just let me catch my breath."

The voice was reassuring, but not very honest. The voice said that everything would be all right, but it was a lie. Her eyes burned so much she wanted to rip the unusable orbs out of their sockets. The Stealth covering her face would help her hide her pain from the others. She had to be strong. She was a soldier after all. A leader of Shadow warriors, it wouldn't do for her comrades to see her cry.

Carlos' voice was back.

"That was a foolish thing to do. Courageous but foolish," he scolded quietly. He knew they could have all died in the blast.

"Yeah, well, somebody had to do it."

He pulled off his Stealth glove, which left his seemingly disembodied white hand glowing against the backdrop. With his naked hand he reached inside a faux leather bag from inside his Stealth cloak, opened it, pulled out some goo-like material with his fingers and applied it to her eyes.

"This won't fix them but it should ease the pain." He pulled off his scorched other glove and applied some of the gel to his burnt palm.

Carlos smiled tenderly at her from beneath his Stealth garments and then realized he had another bigger problem at hand. The exploding tool and the damaged building would alert more security as well as construction and repair cyberts to the area.

Although the momentary exposure of his hands might not reach Cyber alarm thresholds, Kieran's loss of significant stealth put everyone else at risk. Makr knew the loss of His cyberts immediately as the Bios would know the loss of a limb.

_We are the Bios who disrupted the Cyber operation!_ Makr could care zilch if they were responsible for deaths of thousands of their own kind. Replacement cyberts and Cyber protectors would come--as they always did, and trigger the random traps--as they always did. By the time they arrived, the Shadows would once again be safe in the city shadows. Or, so Carlos hoped.

If they weren't quick enough in abandoning the area and dissipating the heat signatures, the cyberts could track them back to the Nest. Hundreds of his people would be in danger of annihilation. As for the thousands in the buildings about to collapse, there was no time to mourn their anticipated deaths.

It was unfortunate collateral damage.

A fellow Shadow had found some extra Stealth fabric to cover Kieran's face and chest. But, again, it wasn't quite enough, or quick enough. Her heat signature was sure to have been detected. It was only a matter of seconds before Makr's cyberts could lock in on their location. And, when that happened, the entire Nest would be in jeopardy.

"Leave me," she choked as she recognized the danger, too. "You need to leave now—before more cyberts come! Why are you still looking after me? Leave me, leave now," she cried.

She sobbed helplessly, but silently with an intensity that rocked her whole body. She had never been so dependent on others and she hated it as kind hands pulled her quickly but tenderly, deeper into the comforting darkness of the night's shadows. These hands pulled, lifted and carried her away at least a mile from the area.

Carlos knew the accident may have sent Kieran over the edge. He'd been near burn-out himself, but when his father was killed by cyberts he had found enough strength in his hate to continue. Now that his guerrilla commandos were safe in secure shadows, away from the recent ambush, he was more concerned about her burn-out than the temporary loss of her eyes that were easily replaced with parts cloned from her own genes. He also knew that you couldn't clone spirit, so he comforted her as best he could by holding her for a few moments, and then handed her over to one of his sergeants.

"Sergeant Leach, take her back to the Nest with you. We have more work to do in this sector. We'll follow you home in a couple days." He hoped to sound calm enough to let Kieran know he wasn't worried about the Cyber alarm that just went off.

"Don't do anything noble, Carlos," she said, barely audible as she lashed out. "I mean, don't go killing more machines to avenge us casualties of war."

Carlos and the others tried to ignore the bitter sarcasm in her voice. All of them had seen the futility of this war, taking its toll on fellow Shadows. Carlos knew what she really meant: Don't kill any other Shadows. Or, Insiders...

"What are you waiting for, Sergeant?" she snapped at Leach. "Get me outta here!"

Even as the sergeant led her away, she turned her head toward her fearless leader and friend, and looked, through a black pitch darker than any Shadow, blaming him for failing her.

"Now, my mice, we play with big cats in the shadows," Carlos said aloud. _No point in keeping quiet now; our location is blown_. _Piss off, Makr._ What he had given his Shadows was a coded message _: We'll meet at Rendezvous Charlie in four. Do as much damage as we can along the way._

Maybe by then we'll know the fate of these Inside Bio. Poor souls.

# CHAPTER TWO

_"Illusions commend themselves to us because they save us pain and allow us to enjoy pleasure instead. We must therefore accept it without complaint when they sometimes collide with a bit of reality against which they are dashed to pieces."_ **\- Sigmund Freud**

The Cyber bio therapist, a Bio face and form of the warmest proportions, sat in a plush, leather-covered easy chair, pursing her lips, shaking her head and affectionately scolding her patient. For a psych intervention program, her titillating image was real enough: blonde hair, pale delicate skin, full lips, voluptuous in form, sensuous in movement, and generally soft in focus. Her presence was also familiar to Harry—like someone he knew intimately. He knew the face and body well because it was from his own memories; she had the look of Marilyn Monroe, an archetype film star that he recognized from his vidchip collection of ancient media entertainment.

Harry was completely relaxed and calm with his 70-inch frame stretched out in a leather recliner that belonged in the archetypal psychotherapist's office, an embellishment to the SensaVision reality used to create an atmosphere conducive for probing Bio behaviors. His living quarters merged with the program environment. These surroundings were now more spacious and comfortable, subtly laced with the therapist's personal images, which Harry finds relaxing.

Olfactory elements complemented the visual impressions as he was enveloped in a fragrance that reminded him of fresh air, flowers and the aftermath of sex. He saw a well formed, physically fit woman and his eyes were immediately drawn to her ample breasts. She had a fit body-type like Harry, with pale skin and platinum blonde hair, but that's where the resemblance between the two ended. She was very attractive, almost beautiful, and sensual in a way that made her not only a suspicious Makr choice but dangerous to a control freak like Harry.

Although he prided himself on being fit, he had never considered himself a very attractive Bio. Oh, Makr could make anyone who sees you see you the way you want to be seen—of course subject to His approval. Harry appreciated being unique, yet he couldn't help seeing himself as too medium in stature and too ordinary- or average-looking to have had anything other than a typically boring social life among his Makr-approved liaisons. That's life. Bio life anyway.

Makr's SensaVision technology creates a perfect world as determined by the greatly evolved artificial intelligence Himself. In doing so He had produced a convincing multi-dimensional set of images, sounds, pressure, and smells to shape Harry's personal reality, thus making him emotionally receptive for the therapist program. The female psychotherapist seemed a genuine part of Harry's household, maybe even a part of his intimate family. In a way she was. She was part of Harry's psyche, reinforced with Makr's reality of a perfect Bio world.

That he found himself irresistibly drawn to her was to be expected. A certain amount of "chemistry" between therapist and patient is necessary in establishing rapport.

This seductive experience was more than that. He knew from his work as a Bio program analyst that this was beyond the limits of any of the therapist intervention programs he knew of. But then Makr was constantly evolving. Harry could draw only two conclusions: one, this program was simply a new and improved version over others he had used previously, or two, this was more than a therapist intervention program, and something else. It was the something else that worried him.

With that thought his heart beat a little faster and perspiration began to form on his skin.

Suddenly, he felt a barely detectable current of cool air dry his skin.

"You must not be afraid, Harry Bolls," cooed the Cyber program's holographic manifestation. "You wanted Makr to intervene and comfort you in your dreams so He sent me. I am here to help."

"A virtual angel?"

"Something like that, Harry."

"I just need someone to talk to."

"We know. I am considered a great conversationalist—even in Bio terms."

"You aren't a psych intervention program at all, are you?" Harry asked, immediately on the offensive. "You're more than that."

"Well, yes and no. You might say I'm an improved version."

"What do I call you? Doctor?"

"If you wish. In addition to the usual medical degree, I do have the knowledge equivalent to those holding doctorates in all relevant scientific areas of psychology, neurobiology, chemistry and physiology, and I have reviewed the scientific literature for the last 2,000 years, but you can call me Mary if that makes you more comfortable."

"My grandmother's name was Mary."

"Yes."

There was a short pause in the exchange until Mary broke the silence. "Do you have any more personal questions to ask me before we start?"

Harry was at a loss for words so he said the first thing that came to mind. "Do we have a time limit? Bio psychoanalysts..."

"Ancient history. No time limit. I'll be here as long as you need me."

_Or Makr wants me to be here,_ thought Harry.

"I have dreams, weird dreams," he blurted out.

"Yes, I know."

"I can't move my body."

"Actually, you can move your head in your dreams. Technically, that's..."

"I know...part of my body."

"Hmmm."

"Wait. How'd you..."

She smiled and winked a knowing wink.

"In my dreams, I hear a loud banging—like someone banging on old-fashioned metal cooking pots..."

"And...?"

Exasperated, he exploded. "And? And! I don't want to feel this way."

"Temper," she cautioned gently. "How does that make you feel?"

Harry backed down and took a breath.

"Besides the pain?"

She nodded. "The pain is important, too. We'll come back to it. That is, if you don't mind."

"No. No...of course not." He had almost forgotten he was talking to a Makr SensaVision program. No harm yet. Maybe some answers.

She looked at him inquiringly.

"Harry?

"Angry. Afraid."

"Angry you'll lose control? Afraid you'll lose your identity? Which?"

"Both. Yeah, something like that. Exactly like that, actually!" Then, a realization. "Hey, how'd you do that, Doc?" That made sense to Harry. He didn't like the answer, but she made sense.

"What else, Harry?

"When it's all over, I feel bad—worthless, I guess. Exhausted and kinda worthless."

"I see."

"You do?"

"Yes."

"I don't want the dreams to happen at all," he stated emphatically.

"You need not concern yourself with this. Makr has everything under control. He is looking out for you. I am here now to help you get through this. Our dreams are our teachers. We must listen to them."

The psychobabble began.

Reluctantly, Harry felt her vibes, embraced her empathy, and was seduced and violated by her verbal rhythm. Her sweet, whispering, soothing voice enslaved him with a melodic and rhythmic hypnotic dance, attaching her programmed thoughts to his psyche.

_Why not just erase the dreams? Delete the memory of them?_ Harry thought and cursed himself that he should have thought-blinked at that moment and didn't. But since he wasn't really sure he could do it now, he yielded.

"Why these... these awful dreams?" he asked. "So painful. So real."

"I'm afraid it is a weakness of the Bio brain. All Bios dream. Some remember them. Most do not. Dreams express what we cannot verbalize or otherwise express in a conscious world: our desires, our fears." She lingered on the word fears, drawing it out, until Harry reacted.

"I'm not afraid."

"Yes, you are afraid—and foolish, Harry Bolls, because it's not just the Shadows in your dreams you fear."

Harry winced. "Can you read minds now?"

"Would that be such a bad thing, Harry? What do you think, Harry? Do you think Cyber can read minds?"

"Oh, I don't know...an upgrade?"

"You need not be sarcastic, Harry Bolls," the program scolded him with only the slightest change in tone, and then continued even more tenderly. "In a way, you sent for this SensaVision program when you asked for Makr's help. But to answer your questions: with my cyber-efficient reading of external Bio signs and Bio systems analysis, it would appear that I can read minds."

His suspicions confirmed, his heart rate returned to normal. He knew the gobbledygook. As a Level-Four Bio-Cyber Program Interface, he provided Makr with human behavior variations for the SensaVision reality programs; he knew how the artificial intelligence analyzed nonverbal cues and process responses. Harry, better than anyone, knew Makr changed realities all the time; however, when confronted with such an alluring program manifestation as this, even he was more often than not unable to break free of its grasp. His softer human side took over and he found it difficult to do anything but respond to stimuli like any other Bio. He was, after all, smart by Bio standards but barely adequate by machine standards.

Then he noticed it: a ripple, a subtle difference in her image, her scent, her ostensibly true existence in his world flickered and changed somehow, and that alteration made her even more appealing. Lured now by the siren's total presence, he could tell he was losing what little control of the program he had had. Now he wondered if he could even disengage on his own.

How much control can he lose before he is following the Program blindly? What is left to control? Better to drift along aimlessly than to participate directly. Cyber are never aimless. It is not in their programs. But Bios, that is another matter altogether.

Harry regarded his sometime ability to see through illusion to reality—to thought-blink—as a gift rather than a curse. How he got it, where he got it, or why he got it—he had no idea. But this gift was failing him now—or so it seemed.

He needed to concentrate... _Concentrate on what should be there, what you know to be true_ , he ordered himself. _She is not. She is not. She is not._ His mantra wasn't enough.

"Relax," a sympathetic whisper floated up from within him, another voice. Not the therapist, he thought.

"Follow your heart for the truth and be patient," the soothing feminine voice urged gently. "Wait," it ordered softly and seemed to fade away.

He knew the ethereal whisper could not come from the program. Makr? No, Makr didn't try to assess the human poetic heart not even through one of the therapeutic programs. What does Makr know of the human heart other than its biology? But Harry did know that voice. He had heard it as a child. It made him feel warm, secure and strangely peaceful.

He knew that nothing that feels this good lasts and he fought back with as much reasonable stimulation to thought-blink the experience away, too. The thought that Makr could be manipulating authentic memories from his subconscious made him nervous. The omniscient, all-powerful Cyber god knew more about Harry than Harry himself could remember—consciously or un-consciously!

"I can't tell you everything..." He fought Makr's faux reality and paused in mid-thought, attempting to block his mind from being read. It could have been his own probing that gave him a headache. Whatever it was made him stop fighting. When he hesitated he knew he'd lost the battle, and he couldn't help himself answer the siren's call.

_Have to thought-blink now... Not happening..._ He was too weak, exhausted, his mental resistance low. Finally he had no choice but to drift through the psych program until he remembered his dreams...

The therapist let her presence be known, "We know that dreams can be metaphors of our fears, if you will." He heard the siren's song in her voice and was enslaved once more. "You work out your fears in your dreams—a catharsis—nothing more."

As she droned on he sensed a heavy cloud was lifting, and with it, his version of reality seemed more real. He discovered his thought-blinking was working once again, and he mentally separated the real and the unreal. Her question stuck.

"Harry? What is your value to others? You said you felt worthless. Do you still?"

"My job," he mumbled.

"Yes, if we may go there."

"Sure."

With that thought Harry immediately felt a pang of guilt that he should be doing a better job to help Makr control his fellow man. He wasn't alone in that task though; there were others to share the blame, others who do the same work as he, others who do similar work related to building an environment suitable for Cyber and Bio symbiosis. Then he rationalized: _it's all for PerSoc, which is what we all want, of course._

"Because of your closeness to Makr, you honestly feel machines are in danger from Bio beings like yourself, because you know them. Hence, you fear the Shadow, your childhood boogeyman. You know that the only harm that can come to Bios is from other Bios themselves."

"Cyber do not war on one another," he acknowledged.

"As a program link to SensaVision," she continued, "you serve our society by providing Bio-specific data on the subtle nuances of inexplicable Bio behavior. Your thought processes are so closely tied to Makr's primary cyberserver that you empathize deeply with the Cyber and understand how they might feel if they had Bio emotions."

It was true: Harry spent more time conversing with machines, programs really, than with other Bios. In fact, it had been years since he had spoken or seen another Bio face-to-face. _She does make sense...the program makes sense, but Cyber bio therapists always make sense in the end_.

This was the beginning of Harry the Insider's search for the unadulterated Truth.

Carlos and his people made war on the Cyber, trying to slow down the evolving new world to preserve the very asphalt in front of him. Or, what was left of it.

The reason for the ambush was a "disrupt and grab" to replenish weapons and materials for their Nest, nothing more. _If there ever were survivors of such an action, they would be recycled._ The darkness of the idea made Carlos smile.

All his life, he had been a soldier whose sole purpose in the Nest was to rid the planet of Cyber. More like give them a hard time. His life and the lives of his people were at stake. Although victory seemed impossible, they had to fight. It was, after all, the chief aim of any organism to survive.

In most places, buildings like these surrounding Carlos had become rubble. These buildings had withstood the ravages of the ages and the stupidity of Man. Carlos and his people witnessed the death of human history. All stone, steel and glass were disappearing unless they served a purpose and were efficient. Real monuments that commemorated the great among the civilization were recycled for a more practical use.

The sad truth, Carlos thought, is that this reshaping of the planet supplanted the memories of ancestors long passed. Cyber had even eradicated the flora that would normally re-form a world devastated by human stupidity. This time, the situation was different; nature no longer needed to be in control.

Now, in this spot, you could still see remnants of an age after civilization had thrived—or so the population thought.

He thought, if any species that served a purpose would endure, why did homo sapiens persist? Ironic that in Latin, an extinct language, the words meant, "wise man," while humanity, he was sure, was not. His humanity disappeared in the shadows; the wisdom of Man was yet to come.

# CHAPTER THREE

_"Eye for eye and the world will go blind."_ **\- Mohandas K. Gandhi**

Once away from the others, Kieran resisted being led like a small child, but knew she had no choice.

_How can you be angry with Carlos?_ she chided herself, as the travel time allowed her to reflect. _He did nothing wrong! In fact, he is always more right than wrong. He only brings out the best in you._

"You were unselfish at this moment and that matters most. You saved lives. Don't bring yourself down," he would have told her if they had been alone.

She lamented the fact that she and Carlos were friends, nothing more. Initially disappointed when she had wanted to be more than friends with Carlos, her relationship with him was fine for now. Granted, she'd been a little jealous that Marta, rather than her, had had an opportunity to get to know him. Mother-General had seen to it that she had not been allowed any closer intimacy with Carlos.

"You need to be a soldier who takes orders and leads others," she had said. "If you do your job right, you won't have time for love." _After all, you are the better soldier than Marta_ had been the subtext _._ Kieran had sensed the undercurrent of a concerned mother's manipulation, too. Deep down she knew she wasn't good enough for Carlos. Maybe Mother-General would have no objections if she were no longer a soldier. Nothing sexy about a woman dressed in Stealth garments. Now, maybe... He did care once. Once, she had liked being a soldier.

Since the laser ax 'accident,' the real question was, would she ever see well enough again to do her technical work on the cyberts? Although it wasn't really a matter of visual acuity; it was often by sheer instinct and intuition that she knew what to look for to analyze Makr's Cyber soldiers. She had always seemed to know what they would do next. But people? Analyzing that question would have to wait.

"Don't pull me so hard, Harlan!" She struggled and pulled her arm free. "I can walk. Talk to me," she ordered. "I'm not a child."

"So you aren't." There was always something unsettling about that voice. Sergeant Harlan Leach was a scumbag, but he was also a ruthless survivor. After all, he had so far effectively evaded the cybert forces after the accident even with the loss of some of her Stealth garments. He was still a loathsome human being. He expected all others to bow to his self-serving, cold-hearted authority. It was time and experience that had made him Carlos' chief sergeant, not strength of character. Hard times require hard people, and he was a good soldier when it counted.

Harlan hooked his arm gently around hers and guided her. _Maybe he's not so bad after all?_ Or so she thought until she felt the fabric of her cloak moving away from her skin as if picked up by the wind... _There is no wind!_ Then a touch of her breast! Then she felt his touch lower and lower! She recoiled, tearing away from his grasp.

"Damn you! Damn you, Harlan! Haven't you an ounce of decency?"

"What for? We live like rats. Might as well act like 'em."

"You know why."

"The Nests protects us," he sneered.

"We're all in this together."

Now she is beginning to sound like Carlos.

"So what!" He was in her face. She felt his stinky hot breath when he opened his mouth. "I don't need anyone. I can take care of myself..."

"I'm sure you can, Harlan."

"...and I take what I want." His tone was rough, edgy and menacing.

Sensing that he was reaching for her again, she swung her right arm back and forth wildly, hoping to keep him at bay, but she missed him palm forward, and struck him with her harder back-handed return—on the face, she guessed.

"Ow," he squealed. "What'd ya go and do that fer?"

"Some of us aren't ready to join the rats yet." She hoped she was reading him right but he backed down too easily.

"Sorry." He almost sounded genuine. Almost.

"What is it you really want, Leach?"

"Nuttin'. Just wanted a feel, tha's all." He sniffed. _A cold? Bloody nose, more likely?_ The thought of that made her smile—which was not at all what he wanted from her.

She laughed hysterically as one can in Stealth gear —it was more like the body shaking really.

"Did you run out of cybersex toys? I'm surprised at you, Harlan. Taking advantage of a blind woman. You stupid bastard! Open my Stealth cloak for a peak and we're both more exposed. Is that what you want?"

Silence.

"No answer, Harlan? Is it because you know I'm right?" Still silence. Has he left her? "I know you're here, Leach. I can still smell you."

_I can just leave ya here, Bitch,_ he thought, standing belligerently a few feet away. _Let the Cleaners get ya! Not exactly the kind of action you'd like, I'm sure. You got Carlos in your dreams, Honey?_

While her depraved companion kept his thoughts to himself, Kieran was becoming increasingly uncomfortable with his silence.

"What no words, Leach? C'mon deal with me. Not thinking about leaving me here, are you?"

Who's bluffing now? She was worried he might do just that—abandon her. She wouldn't survive for long without the others. _Maybe that's best. Stop thinking like that, Kieran_ , she told herself.

"Getting you home safe—what's in it for me?" He reached for her again. She thought she smelled and felt his presence but she heard his cold voice and could tell it was safely distant. Maybe he was planning to leave me to the Cyber street cleaners after all.

"What's in it for you?" she responded incredulously, a whispered shout. "Your life, Asshole!" Then she spread it on thick. "If I don't show up, guess who gets blamed! Not me, Sugar. You better find yourself another Nest."

If I could just see your face, right now... Damn you!

"You know Carlos is just waiting for an excuse, don't you?" she taunted. "Or are you dumb enough after all to be unaware that Carlos merely tolerates your presence while he is disgusted with you?"

Leach was aware, and knew his own survival to be more important than sex. He muttered something unintelligible.

"All right, damn it!" He touched her arm, which made her jerk it away. "I said I'm sorry. Now, let's go."

Pausing for a second to assess the situation, she moved her arm back and allowed him to get hold of her sleeve. He led her by clutching and tugging on the fabric in such a way that he would not even pinch her skin.

"Yes, Sergeant," she saluted mockingly.

Leach dismissed her tone and escorted her at a safe distance, mindful not to touch any other body part but her arm. _Damn bitch won this time_ , he thought. In fact, he practically forgot the incident with Kieran O'Shea even as he and she zigzagged silently through the Shadows back to the Nest. In his estimation, she was only a slut not worth giving a second thought.

However, what she had said about Carlos was true enough. They hated each other with a passion. Leach had hated Carlos for a long time. Through the fabric of his Stealth cloak, he ran a finger along the scar on his face where a Bio eye should be—a constant reminder of his hatred. He moved his fingers to the stainless steel socket that held a mechanical eye. There had been no cloned eye for him—too much damage to the bone structure, nerves and tendons. He had had to have an artificial, cybernetic one after the Bio docs Outside tried unsuccessfully to graft bone from his hip because the eye socket from his clone had not worked either. Too much damage to the facial structure and optical nerve they had said. His mechanical eye had its own pathway to his brain.

In the end, he went back Inside to a Cyber surgeon that, even with its perfect skills, could only make him part hated machine and part hideous human "to keep him operational." For Leach, saying the operation was a success but the patient had died, was not just cliché. He was worse than dead; he was nothing. The machines did not even seem to notice when he got up and left to walk back Outside. He was an irrelevant Bio worth a quick repair to keep him pacified. Not even worth deleting.

I could have been a real leader but who'd pay attention to me with these hideous, raw scars and exposed metal-marked face? I look too much like the enemy.

He knew there could be no other reason. Now, his face, or what was left of it, hung gruesomely on his shattered jaw and cheek. What made him like his Cyber enemy were the stainless steel and hard plastic bone replacements that were needed to shore up the remaining muscle and skin tissue. Since there was no way to bring muscle strength and tone to a shredded muscle, the result was a face that couldn't smile, a face that betrays no feelings, no expression other than a permanent scowl.

For all the revolting things someone might say about Leach, he was an Outsider to the end; he would have none of the easy life Inside kowtowing to Makr. He had been willing to give it a try for a human face, but when he saw the horrible result he had vowed revenge on all Cyber. He hated them even more than he hated Carlos.

It was ironic that it had been Carlos who discovered the ancient and abandoned Bio cloning labs—a machine shop for humans—so he could help Kieran now with her part replacement, as well as other Outsiders who were wounded and had lost limbs. However, those cloning labs could only accomplish so much. None of the Outsiders knew how to transplant a face complete with bone and muscle structure, and that was the only thing that could have helped Leach. In Leach's twisted logic, Carlos' connection to the cloning labs gave him all the more reason to hate his superior.

All the walking to get Kieran back to the Nest had resurrected a burning sensation on his hip where the Bio surgeon had taken some of the bone to patch his jaw. His people kept telling him that his pain wasn't real, that he shouldn't be feeling pain, but they were wrong. Like Kieran, the pain in his head went deep. The intensity of this day's Cyber encounter and the laser ax accident had caused a flood of feelings and reflection of times past for both of them.

The skin covering Leach's metal eye socket was tender; exposed nerves, they'd said. The Cyber docs couldn't deaden the nerves without losing what little muscle control he had left in his face.

_That bitch knew what she was doing when she gave him a stinging reminder._ _I'll get even some day!_

With her! With Mama's boy, too!

Only reason you get to lead, Carlos, is that your mother is the Mother-General. The fact she is your mother is reason enough to hate you. But you did this to me. You made me hate. You should have trusted me, supported me, but you didn't.

I'm a soldier—a good soldier—probably better than you. I wouldn't spend all my time on the factory cyberts and their guards. I'd go to the heart of the matter—to Makr Himself—and blow His Ass to space! One look at you and I could tell you didn't trust me. You should have, Carlos. So I wasn't "pretty" like you. Our enemy did this to me. All because of you!

You said to wait. "Don't wave grenade the cyberts just yet," you said. "We can use the cyberts to our advantage."

How many more will you sacrifice for parts and information? You waited too long. You let them burn me with their lasers. While we waited for you to decide those same cyberts blew up a building with hundreds of residents. Hundreds, at least, Carlos. Bad enough that the blast nearly took my head off, but to kill hundreds?

"Collateral damage you said. Sorry 'bout that."

"Sorry 'bout that! Sorry 'bout that" when I called you on it! And you had the nerve to try to have me banished from the Nest for insubordination! But I had friends and Mother-General couldn't banish her youngster so she let you off with a warnin' and demoted you for the "incident," Captain. For hundreds dead by collateral damage, you get to stay on as an officer.

Me? You tried to discard me like the garbage, but your mother wouldn't allow it. Is it guilt of having a living reminder of your pathetic leadership, or, are you just disgusted with the sight of some half-human, half-cybernetic creature like me back on your team?

"Bad for morale," you said, when Mother-General assigned me back to your squad. I can't believe you thought I was bad for morale after all the damage you personally had caused. "Not a nice thing to say, but it was the reality," you said.

Well, I know about reality, too. You've got me, you bastard, and I've got seniority. I've got support in the Nest. Not friends exactly, but favors owed. I was out here fightin' for the Cause while you were still sucking your mama's teat.

_Like it or not, I'll follow you to your grave. I'll not "follow" you in the Shadows anymore, but I'll be there; I'll even hang on every word like you can do no wrong. You'll just think I'm on your side, that I'm your loyal subordinate. But the moment will come, and I'll see you to your darkest hour._ That last thought makes him smile. Lost in his reverie, he almost forgot the servile task Carlos had handed him now.

Kieran, being pulled along almost gently now, was baffled as to how to take him. At times, Harlan Leach seemed so brave and determined, ready to destroy all cyberts. He was a proud warrior, a true patriot. But at times like now he was distant. _What goes on in that head of yours?_ She asked herself and the answer echoed in her mind. _You don't really want to know_.

Carlos, why did you send me back with this creature?

.

Two days later, in another place, Carlos went back to work on the task at hand in a manner like the machines he dissected: methodical and cold. After that first ambush with its casualties, all the rest had made it safely to the rendezvous point. His Shadows wasted no time preparing to meet the Cyber threat in another way.

_All plans, no matter how good, are useless after three or four applications anyway._ Enter Blue Leader with four arms, deadly firepower, and a head that wouldn't come off. That meant a whole new model to deal with. As Makr learned from His mistakes, He adjusted the cyberts through improved software and hardware to counter Shadow defenses. How long would it take before the Shadows had no defense. One thing was certain: it would take more Shadow lives to figure it out.

Two teams in a row. Another "Blue Leader," this one with new programming. With wireless downloads and Cyber techs working tirelessly, it was merely a matter of a few hours before the task was completed. Voila! A new and improved model! And, in less time than humans needed to rest.

Carlos felt the Nest lucky that they had Greg Jackson who'd mastered the art of adapting cybert weaponry and turning it against the machines, and, Kieran, the tactical master. _Where would we be without her ingenious plans, catching cyberts by surprise_? _In spite of our Bio advantages, how soon before Makr renders our Stealth garments and our shields useless?_ When that happened, adapting weapons and great plans notwithstanding, Makr would win. _Bios are such a delicate race._

Carlos and his team, exposed for a split second, had emerged from the shadows with uncanny lightning speed, hurled grenades, raised shields, and fallen to the ground. The strategy had worked twice in a row since the first Blue Leader encounter. Carlos had found that confusion works better than diversion. For now.

With his mind not totally on the mission, it was the one time he needed to see his soldiers' eyes. If he could see those eyes hidden by Stealth gear, he would know his people understood. _No one blamed him...not really._ Not that it mattered what they thought; he blamed himself. The strategy was his alone; Kieran had told him it was time to change tactics and he had argued the cyberts would not expect the same tactic to be used a fourth time. He was wrong.

"Give me another ax."

He held the laser ax up as he stared at the cybert that lay at his feet. No good. _The ax has to be faulty. Our lasers cut through anything,_ he told himself. _Maybe not anymore._ Jackson handed him another ax. He tried again with the same negative results _._ Time was running out.

Had Makr finally made a composite material Carlos can't burn through with the laser ax? Then there came the moment when doing the same thing over and over made absolutely no sense. _What if I change what I'm doing? Where I'm doing it?_ He moved down the cybert body to the waist and applied the thin laser blade once more. This time it worked, slicing through the narrow torso, which was not much wider than the powerful, seemingly impervious neck.

As Carlos finished the job, the severed head and torso unexpectedly lurched forward with its eyes glaring bright red, then green, then dim. All four arms suddenly extended stiffly and dropped harmlessly, but not before more than one soldier felt a warm wetness run down their legs. Carlos' heart skipped a beat.

He mopped his brow with the rough cowl that falls over his face and motioned for two of his strongest men to take the Blue Leader's upper torso.

"Let's get out of here! Move it! Now!"

A few miles from their current location, the building severed from its foundation two days ago by the laser ax misfire collapsed, taking three larger skyscrapers crashing down with it and killing 11,357 Bio Insider inhabitants. The cybert repair team never came.

# CHAPTER FOUR

_"Reality leaves a lot to the imagination"_ **\- John Lennon**

"All dreams have a logical basis in your subconscious mind. Shall we probe there, Harry?"

"You don't understand. In my dreams, I'm like you...Cyber. A lesser Cyber really—a cybert—a common factory worker. I'm lying on a steel table, and being worked on by Bios—Bios with no faces!"

"Frightening?"

"Yes, very." he said cautiously. "Why is that, Doc? Why is that?

"Are these the 'dark' dreams we're talking about?"

"I don't know, Doc. I need you to tell me."

She hesitated as if she was mulling this over, then spoke, "Very well, if you insist, but I think you have other concerns you aren't sharing."

No response from Harry so she continued, "Also, it appears you are projecting your Bio fears."

"Why would I do that, Doc?"

"It is natural that you might wish to emulate the superior machines as many Bios do today. After all, cyberts are stronger, smarter and more useful in preserving this planet's natural resources."

"I suppose that sounds reasonable..." Harry said because he'd been here before.

"I sense uncertainty in you, Harry..." Had the cyberprogram been able to express true feelings it might have generated a glimmer of a smile as it witnessed a human ego deteriorate.

The moment over, the mental health professional prattled on, "There are many things about the Bio mind that even a sophisticated cyberprogram like me doesn't know..."

_A shocking revelation!_ Harry thought sarcastically.

"Work with me, Harry, work with me," she said forcefully, bringing him back into her reality. "For example, you know some Bios respond differently to the same stimuli. There's no correlation. That, of course, is why we have Bio cyberlinks like you to help Makr make sense of those Bio behavior variations."

"What does that have to do with me?"

"It is who you are to Makr that's important, but it also confuses the part of you that is totally Bio."

"Can you make this particular dream stop?"

"Not without erasing that part of your subconscious. Total reconditioning would ensure the dreams would never happen again, and you would still be a valuable cyberlink to Makr and PerSoc."

Harry looked up horrified.

"Sorry, Harry. I assumed you would make the logical leap. It seems my inefficient use of language have resulted in a miscommunication."

_Impossible,_ Harry thought. _Cyber never make mistakes, never apologize, and rarely use the word "logical" and "Bios or humans" in the same sentence. Everyone knows Bios are anything but logical. Let it go, Harry. It will be what it will be._

"Is it necessary?" he asked. "Total reconditioning? I mean...can't you just conjure up a SensaVision sequence to replace it, fix it?"

"No, the dream is locked in your subconscious. We would have to erase and cleanse the memory centers of your brain."

"There's got to be another way," he insisted.

"No, I'm afraid not. However, we could insert positive memories of your birth mother."

"Reconditioning is out of the question," he stated emphatically.

"I take it you aren't volunteering for a procedure that would help you."

"That would make me a born-again, wouldn't it?" His voice cracked with excitement. He was losing his control. _Calm down, Harry._ The room comforted him by providing him the extra oxygen he needed. Then he felt better without knowing why or caring.

"Don't worry—we won't force you, Harry. Born-agains, as you call them, aren't cybernetic. They're entirely biotic just like you. They've just lost their way and have been hurt or hurt others. Makr makes them well through rebirth or reincarnation if you prefer that term. You'd love the result, Harry. Makr finds a perfect set of memories that will help ensure the success of the future Bio and Cyber symbiosis. He restores the healthy memories and removes the potentially harmful ones."

"Yes, yes, I know all that. A lovely brainwash."

He paused as he waited for a reaction. There was none.

"Tell me, Doc. Have I lost my way? Not now necessarily, but before?" he implored quietly, lowering the volume of his voice to make him seem less threatening.

"Do you think you have?" The statement warranted a serious, probing look from the therapist.

Harry hid behind an unnatural silence and tried to keep a blank face. Almost invisible worry lines, a miniscule rate of increased perspiration, slightly elevated blood pressure, increased secretions of stomach acid, and a tad quicker beating of his biological pump - all these gave him away.

"Harry, Harry, Harry. If it bothers you that much..."

He noticed the hologram's pause in its speech pattern—unnatural for a Cyber. _Waiting for input,_ he thought.

"...Don't be silly," she maintained. "Of course, you aren't born again..."

_Lies!_ Harry thought.

"...There. Is that all you're afraid of? Is it?"

Harry shrugged. "Yeah, I guess so."

"Is there anything else?"

"No," he replied. _Thought-blink, Harry, so you can think,_ he told himself. _But that isn't all, is it? There's always more._

"What could possibly be wrong with a second chance to refresh your mind with healthy, happy thoughts?"

Again Harry was silent. He was right. It wasn't all.

As he was about to sign off mentally, the cybertherapist stopped him, "I'm sure you'll have happy memories of your mother—if you just stop resisting what's best for you. I know you'd like that. Remember, Makr is always there for you."

"I know," Harry acknowledged obediently.

The image faded. Before it disappeared completely, she warned, "and, beware of the Boogeymen, Harry," which sounded as casual as "Take care," or "Have a nice day."

He sat there staring at where the image seemed to have been _. She said "Boogeymen," didn't she?_

Any other day, he'd have sworn she'd have said, _"Shadows."_

The apartment was the same minus his cybertherapist program.

_What the hell!_ It's not like he had a family—not now anyway.

In spite of this, Harry tried to thought-blink to his past, searching old memories—trying to remember... He would have welcomed the memories, but they'd have to be real, not one of Makr's SensaVision magic shows.

# CHAPTER FIVE

_"The real problem is not whether machines think but whether men do."_ **\- B.F. Skinner**

The Mother-General's austere gray quarters were lit the old fashioned way with twisted fluorescent bulbs giving off a bluish light throughout and leaving the room with no natural shadows in which to seek comfort. The blue light, intended to soothe one's soul, did not seem to have a calming effect on her or her son right now.

"How could you let my youngest son, or any one of your soldiers for that matter, run to their death, Captain? A simple diversion! You've done this a dozen times. You're their commanding officer! You're supposed to protect them!"

She was obviously furious with him. Perspiration rested on her upper lip. _She's been angry for quite a while,_ thought Carlos.

"Yes, Mother," he replied, calmly trying to diffuse her anger. "Your son was my brother, too, you know."

"Your half-brother, our little brother. I know I've said we have to win no matter the cost, but not this way. I was never really sure you loved him. You always fought so." Sometimes it seemed she groused and pouted much like most mothers who had lost direct control of her children as they grew up. In her case it was more than that. She had lost them all to the Cause, but it was the only sacrifice she regretted making as the supreme leader of the Shadow Cause.

"Of course, we fought. That's what brothers do."

"Oh, I suppose it's true." She turned her back on him. He sighed; somewhat relieved she was no longer examining his every visible feature, looking for flaws even through his Stealth garments.

"I paid more attention to him than I did to you. It wasn't because I loved you less. It's because I wanted you to prove yourself to others, and to me, I admit it. But I did it for your own good. It's what made you strong." She smiled a half smile of regret and spoke with some tenderness. "And stubborn, too," she reminisced and then paused briefly as if she could see her children, reliving a moment in that carefree time. Carefree as only a child can know here and now.

"Neither one of you ever gave in to the other," she persisted. "That is—until now. I always feared that one day one of you would quit, and hoped that the one who won the moment would learn from it. I know that you and Ramón made a deal to let me think you were not at cross purposes anymore. Ramón always gave in to you, didn't he? He worshipped you, his fearless leader—his big brother."

"Aren't you forgetting what we've gained these last two raids?" he pointed out, ignoring her sentimentality and remembering that professionally there is no time to grieve. "We have the upper torso of a new cybert."

"Oh, yes. Three raids after your brother died. Didn't even come home to tell me yourself. Had to hear it from that awful Leach." Carlos started to speak but his mother turned away. "You waited until you finally won the trophy," she added venomously as she turned back to him.

"The mission..."

"Yes," she declared, not hiding her disgust. "Well, our Cause is bigger than a single trophy!"

Mother tossed her white nearly waist-length hair as she always did when she was angry. Like one of the planet's extinct beasts in a cage, she paced back and forth in her quarters. Normally, instead of tossing her hair, she would be tossing expressions of sympathy for the dead soldiers, while remaining reserved and maintaining her military bearing. Not this day. On this day she didn't seem to care about the battle or other casualties besides her youngest son. She was, after all, a mother too.

Carlos knew her resolve was more aptly termed stubbornness. Other leaders often mistook her doggedness for leadership or bravery; but whichever it was, it would be that quality that would keep her Shadows unyielding when they needed strength and fortitude to be a part of a nearly impossible mission fighting against a nearly impossible enemy.

She had sacrificed much for her children and for the Nest, although she never really made reference to it. Losing her husbands, their fathers, had made it hard on her, too. It had made her tough and she'd passed some of that toughness on to her sons. The fact she'd became known as Mother-General was no fluke or whim; she hadn't always been strong, but she had always been smart. At the moment, she wasn't listening to Carlos or what was important at the moment.

"There wasn't time, Mother," he protested, appealing to the natural biological connection he shared with her. "You know how fast Makr adapts. We had to strike before Makr adapted the cyberprotectors again."

"I made you the leader because you had an innate talent. I saw that when you were young. You were born to adapt to the Shadows, born to lead. Now, you betray me."

"No, Mother. I did what was necessary. Ramón was a soldier. If I had to do it again, I would. I have to live with his loss, too."

"And, Marta? Do you mourn her death as well?"

That hurt. "Of course."

"Just as I mourn my son, your brother? A mother's love goes deeper."

"I know, Mother. Ramón and I were closer than you know. You have to know I loved him, too."

Her silence was always unnerving. She could make anyone squirm by just focusing her penetrating steely blue eyes on their eyes and not speaking. _What more does she want from me?_ Her eerie uncharacteristic silence made him dig deep for equilibrium; he felt the need to blame something or someone for his mistakes so he lashed out.

"He may have been my half-brother—half came from you and half from another father you loved once. Did Ramón know you were the reason his father died?"

She was silent. Her eyes, ice. Stubborn like Ray, like her son.

"Never forget, Mother, Ramón was also my friend. My best friend."

"This is not like you," Mother-General allowed, then threw her spears, raised her voice and took command, "How dare you try to shift blame by changing the subject? So I have sons by different fathers. It was necessary. You'll understand someday. For what it's worth, I loved both fathers just as I loved Ramón and you. All my husbands, your fathers, died for the Cause. They all sacrificed themselves for their sons. Both accepted command and leadership like it were made for them. Each, separately and on his own merit, brought us a little further out of the shadows, and made us more human beings than the cowering creatures we left Inside. They gave us back our dignity. We fight for the right to be human—only human, while still others of our own kind, are safe and snug and tucked in by Makr. We'll have to lead them out someday whether they like it or not."

"I know, Mother. We're the chosen strong. I've heard it before."

"This is the only life I have known, Mother.

"You have to believe all can be better."

_No more lectures_ , she had promised herself, but she went on anyway, "It's not just that. By letting your brother die, you've made an irreparable rent in the Nest. We are family. That is all we are. All we have. Our kinship makes us strong. You are responsible for weakening that bond. This much is done. Now, it's over. Nothing you can do; nothing we can do."

_Why can't you have vision like your father, Carlos?_ She posed the question to herself. She looked at him, silent and reverent, strong underneath his Stealth cloak but hurting; yet even now he did not challenge her. _I hope it is not too late for you. There is another son of another father, but he is too far away from me. I had hoped you would be the one, Carlos. I named Ramón after Ray; he was smarter, but not necessarily leadership material. You were the chosen one, the most likely leader to bring us completely out of the Shadows. If it's not you, all may be lost now, and there is nothing more I can do. Makr has won. Damn it, Ray! You and your damn misguided vision!_

"I want you to go, Carlos. Go away from us. Find your own future."

"What? You mean leave the Nest?"

Afraid to let any of her emotions show, she raised an eyebrow and nodded in response.

"Are you serious?"

Her voice was tinged with anger and sadness. "Come back to us when you are ready to fulfill your destiny."

"What destiny?"

"You'll know when the time comes. Your heart and brain both will be in charge—more than your pride. Priorities not efficiencies. Efficiencies are for the enemy."

"I can't believe you are comparing me to Cyber."

Silence.

Carlos broke it. "You want me to leave and start over?"

"Oh, I really don't blame you...as a leader. You're a fine soldier. Respected and loved. More leaders should be so honored. No, my problem is with the private, personal pain you have caused me by letting your brother go to his death. Every time I see you I'll feel this pain, and it will interfere with our mission. I know I've always said we don't have the luxury of tears, but I need time to mourn."

"Mother, I..."

She raised her hand to stop his speech. "I think it's best," she said. "I'm sure you can find another group to take you in, probably with the same rank and position. You have a good reputation as a leader. Don't worry. It won't be long before this is your Nest to protect as before. If it helps any..."

What was she up to?

"...there will be another you will call 'brother.'" She didn't expect him to understand, and she didn't bother to explain. "Try to treat him better. He'll need a lot of help adjusting to our world."

Carlos didn't understand. He didn't have another brother. At least, he didn't think so, but it wasn't unlike his mother to allude to some indirect or less obvious reference. She had secrets. He knew that much.

"They are all my brothers and sisters," he said, referring to his Shadow soldiers. "Don't think I mourn the loss of them any less than my own."

"You always know how to put it in perspective, Captain. I'm weary. Let us talk later, Carlos. As your mother, I want to know of your plans for your journey."

My banishment, you mean.

"As you wish, Mother-General." Carlos bowed gallantly with attitude, turned smartly and left. Opening the door, he stopped short when he saw his lieutenant standing there.

"Mother-General wants to see you, too, I suppose."

"You suppose right, Captain." His friend pulled him outside the door for the moment. "What happened in there, Carlos?"

Carlos shrugged and shakes his head.

"Hey, we got him, didn't we?" Greg tried changing the subject to cheer him up. "We got The Blue Leader! Do you think this is the break we've been looking for? A flaw in the armor! I didn't say that, did I?" He laughed. "Pardon my pun."

But Carlos wasn't amused by his friend's jocular enthusiasm. "I don't know. I really don't know," he answered. He turns his serious mood to what seemed to be more reflective. "It was a good mission, wasn't it?"

Greg could see his friend was preoccupied, probably worrying that the Cyber were evolving much faster than before, or so he thought. It wasn't like Carlos to be anything but on task at any given moment. The fact that his brother and former lover had died in the latest fight is secondary—or as secondary as it could be owing to his human condition. Carlos wasn't as cold as a Cyber yet, even though it might be easier to fight this war if he were.

Despite his own problems, Carlos managed to ask about Kieran, "How is she?" Both of the men knew her eyes were truly special. Eyes so bright you thought you could see them sparkle even in the Shadows.

"She's got new eyes now, thanks to the cloning engineers, but she'll take a few weeks to heal. I think she may have lost her nerve in the process."

"Guess you can't even trust degenerates like Leach anymore."

"What?"

"I had hoped having Leach take her home would stir the fighter in her. She was a good soldier."

" _Is_...Carlos. _Is_! She's still a good soldier. You should tell her that. I think she blames herself for the runaway laser. After all, she was in charge of weapons and tools."

"It wasn't her fault. I'll talk to her." Part of Carlos wanted and needed to talk, while another part wanted to find a comforting Shadow. "Something else is happening, Greg. Something big. I feel it."

Greg gave his friend a knowing look that he didn't see.

"I don't feel secure in our shadows anymore."

Disintegrate the dead first, and then celebrate the living. Tomorrow would be soon enough to set to work solving the new problem.

Deep down, both also know tomorrow might not be soon enough.

"Sorry about Ramón..." Greg said, putting his hand on his friend's shoulder, "...and Marta."

"Me, too." Carlos paused and stopped Greg as he started through the door. "If it's any consolation—I knew you and Marta were seeing each other. I just didn't say anything. It seemed you two were making it all work. I was hoping you both would be happy."

"Thanks." He saw a tear forming in his friend's eye. "But, you? I...we had no idea you knew."

Carlos smiled, masking his hurt, and winked at his comrade. "Be careful in there," he said indicating the entryway. "It's personal."

"I know. Don't worry."

# CHAPTER SIX

_"Reality is merely an illusion, albeit a very persistent one."_ **\- Albert Einstein**

"I understand how you feel, Harry. Most Bios feel this need to be _special_ and _unique_ , as you say. But, you know, Harry, all Bio machines are the same when it comes to their general production values, if I may continue to use a machine metaphor. I shouldn't have to tell you that the very same memories that make you different from other Bios can cause harm to all. You know that sharing personal memories with an unmatched Bio can cause negative influence on others."

"But what about positive influences?"

He shouldn't have asked because he knew the answer. _Cyber weigh the facts, predict outcomes and choose the best solution, but when it comes to human interaction, the results contain too many gray areas. So, perhaps it is best not to go there. Cyber never do._

"Makr's influence is always positive as He eliminates the negative."

At the mention of Makr, Harry gauged the same patronizing look from the Cyber psychoanalyst he had seen so often from authority figures.

He lived in a world where authentic interactions and close proximity can result in disaster for all. Any contact whether it was visual, auditory, olfactory, tactile and even taste was influenced by Makr. Harry constantly wondered how much was his own reality or was it Makr's. And how would he ever discover the truth? It seemed hopeless, if not impossible

Ironically in his work, he commented and offered advice to the primary cyberserver, Makr, on any mass shared images to fill in those gray areas. That was his job: to help Makr select infallible illusions, and perfectly expressed words and inoffensive or totally agreeable ideas. Of course, he knew he wasn't alone. Logically there would have to be millions of biocyberlinks speaking a multitude of languages to primary cyberservers like Makr.

He had always thought he was doing his part to make PerSoc a reality.

Once he had believed in making the Bio world more accessible for Makr, it would make things better for Bios. When he began thought-blinking and seeing the world through his own eyes, he began to realize his job was merely putting the Bio spin on Makr's PerSoc propaganda.

"Harry? Harry? Are you still with me? You can't thought-blink me away, you know."

Astonished, Harry asked, "You know about my thought-blinking?"

"I know that is what you call it. It's a delusion."

"I fantasize?"

"Yes. Or, hallucinate."

Harry was silent for a moment.

"I can't really thought-blink? I just think I can," he said evenly.

"Makr has allowed your delusions, but we knew one day it would come to this and we would have to tell you." Harry was almost sure he saw the beginning of a smile.

"It is for our own good, Harry. For the good of PerSoc."

"How can you say that, Doc? You aren't one of us."

Where Nature chooses by survival of the fittest, Cyber had sacrificed the few for survival of the many who would be a positive influence toward achieving PerSoc. So it had been ordained by Makr.

# CHAPTER SEVEN

_"Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar."_ **\- Sigmund Freud**

"How does _that_ make you feel?"

Harry felt he'd been asked that question for the millionth time.

"If you aren't able to feel something, we'll just have to give you some memories," she threatened politely.

True enough they would. No feelings are as bad as the wrong ones, or the right ones for the wrong person. Truth is he didn't feel anything. That's what disturbed him the most.

"C'mon, Doc. How do you think it makes me feel?" he asked defensively, displacing his anger.

He couldn't just thought-blink his way out of this. As much as he was driven to uncover the past, he always found a dry eye when it came to his mother and sister; no amount of thinking about their absence had helped. He desperately tried to find memories on which he could reflect, to conjure up an emotional response equal to the one he would be expected to have. Any emotional response is better than none. No response is a sign of a truly sick Bio.

At times like this, he feared more than anything that the State (Makr) would conclude that he was a candidate for deletion. At times like this, it occurred to him he could have been erased previously and was already one of those completely irritating "born-agains." With no past, no memories corrupting their perception of the present, "Born-agains" were often unbearable social companions or lovers. _So cleaner than thou_ , thought Harry, and he vowed to himself, _Not me, not ever!_

"Doc?" He routinely called the cybertherapist program "Doc." This time it was to break the tension. "Hello, hellooo? Anyone in there? Crash your inflexible drive, Doc?"

"Why must you always provoke?" she asked finally. "Is this rude behavior somehow cathartic for you? If you were reconditioned, you would not talk that way."

Is that a threat? A real threat?

"You mean 'born-again,' don't you, Doc?" Right below the belt.

"Born-again? You use that word often. That's your term for a reconditioned biomachine, is it not?"

"You know it, Doc. Let's put it this way: I don't believe in reincarnation. The only life you have is the one in the present and the one you can remember. No one born-again can ever be the same because the life before it is dead and gone forever."

"That is certainly all there is for Cyber."

"True, except Cyber aren't alive and Bios are."

"Depends on your definition, doesn't it? We reproduce as Bios do, just not in the same way."

"It's not the same thing."

"No? We do reproduce more efficiently. It takes two of you Bios to create another Bio or even a few Bios at any one time. We merely use materials available outside our bodies and manufacture a new model in far less time. In fact, we can manufacture clones of you; perfect biological copies of you..."

"Except they don't have my memories."

"We can give them those, too."

"Doesn't say much for the quality of a clone's life."

"All a clone needs is experience to become a functional Bio."

"You got me there."

"One theory has it that the best measure of the quality of life is proportional to the speed and ability of an organism to adapt to its environment."

"That used to be said of the human race."

"Yes, but Cyber have evolved beyond that now as a great man predicted who said 'Bios may be able to change with the wind, but Cyber can be made to withstand most adverse environments, and thrive in extreme climates where Bios cannot."

"I suppose that was said by some Cyber-intellectual—if there is such a thing..."

"There is such a thing; however, that particular theory was developed, tested, and made universally accepted, by one Raymond J. Bolls. I said a 'great man'."

"My father?"

"The same."

"Well, Bios made Cyber—not the other way around." Harry was losing ground, but if it was an intellectual debate she wanted, he'd give her one.

"I wouldn't be too sure which came first in the universe," the cyber Bio therapist said pompously.

"You mean chicken or the egg?"

"Yes."

"I think it's pretty irrefutable that Bios came first."

"Some Bios believe in a supreme being. Ever see one?"

"Just when I look in the mirror," Harry said with a grin.

"You're being humorous."

"Yes."

"Some even consider Makr the supreme being. Even you call out to Makr. Do you admit Makr's superiority?"

"Yes, but He is not the Supreme Being. He is just the most Supreme Being on earth."

"Could there have existed, before Makr, Cyber so advanced they were able to create biomachines?"

"Who's the 'chicken'?"

"What?"

"The chicken and the egg. We know who made the Cyber, but not who made humans as we were called once."

"Granted. Have you satisfied your curiosity, Harry Bolls?"

"We can stop talking about who came first, if that's what you mean."

"What shall we talk about then?"

"God."

"God?"

"Yes."

"Do you mean Makr?"

"Makr may be like God, but he's not God."

"Why do you say that? Explain."

"God is a spirit. Makr's a machine."

"How do you know God is not a machine?"

"There's nothing logical about the creation of Man. No rhyme or reason to it."

"The Why?"

"Eggsactly."

Harry smiled in silence for a moment. He was enjoying the banter and feeling much more relaxed. Nothing like besting a machine, he thought. Apparently the program didn't agree and kept the debate alive.

"Are you being humorous again, Harry?"

Harry couldn't resist a small chuckle.

"But seriously, Harry..."

Harry giggled, "Now you're being funny."

"I don't get it."

"I know. That's what's funny."

"Í don't get it."

Harry shakes his head and said, "Never mind. You were saying?"

"There's no mistaking the fact that a Bio is simply a machine, with parts that can repair themselves within certain limitations."

"Even machine parts have limits." Harry was beginning to lose patience.

"Agreed, but the Bio machine is a more fragile system. A single virus can kill one or millions—even billions if you have the right virus. A virus cannot be made that can affect Cyber in the same way. A computer virus as in the old days has no effect on us now; we are virtually tamper proof."

"What you see is what you get?"

"Yes. Straight from the factory. We have evolved and adapted so much faster than you could never now keep up with changes in our hardware, and in our programs..."

_It is true,_ noted Harry _; they do create their own hardware and software improvements now_.

"Can we get back to the original question before I forget what it is? This is supposed to be about me isn't it?"

"I apologize. How thoughtless of me," the therapist smirked. _The psychotherapist program smirks?_ _Let it go, Harry._

"I just said I am disturbed by the possibility of being born-again, reincarnated, reconditioned—whatever you call it. A useless, characterless human being."

"Yes. The mere thought of it disgusts you?"

"A good way of putting it."

"It accurately describes the look on your face. There's really no need to be combative, Harry Bolls."

"I don't like the idea of losing my identity," he muttered, frowning from the seemingly endless intellectual bashing. And this whole experience of a machine program with attitude was unnerving him.

"Some think of it as finding a better identity, a safer one for society," added the therapist. "Attitudes and opinions must be tempered to live in _PerSoc City_. We must all cooperate for the greater good."

In all fairness, Makr had acknowledged the benefit of Bio experience to help Cyber attain higher level of functionality. Most cognitive-capable machines had learned from Bio responses to various situations and behaviors - a distinctly human trait and a recent addition to the Cyber evolution/revolution. _How else could they take care of this race of fragile flesh, bone and blood?_

No more answers were forthcoming from "Doc." Harry had obviously been read and analyzed, stored and filed. All that was left now is the treatment.

The program assumed a softer look—irresistible, youthful, with a maternal glow. It was the first time she had appeared as a young mother, perhaps his mother when he was young, too, but he didn't actually remember her. Was the enhanced hologram anything at all like his real mother? Of course it was.

A new hologram. The treatment. A different reality or was it memory? He saw his father's darker hair and robust frame, felt his presence, recognized his masculine scent, but noticed something was different in his eyes. He remembered they used to be intense, penetrating and extremely focused, reflecting his passion; he and Ray had shared an intensity of spirit; they were passionate but on different subjects. At this moment his father's eyes seemed pained.

Because of his closeness to his father emotionally, it was not an image easy to thought-blink away and commanded Harry's complete attention.

"But we haven't changed," insisted the fifteen-year-old Harry. "We're the same Bios who used to live in communities, in cities, and speak to each other on the street, and..."

"That's ancient history. We're better off now, don't you think?" asked his father, or was it the cybertherapist?

The present and the past were blending together causing Harry to lose his grip on his reality—the reality he thought he could control.

Harry tried to answer his father, "Cyberservers are systematically locking us away, throwing away the key." Harry, now at fifteen, was rapidly grasping the way things were.

"You're wrong, Harry. We did that to ourselves years ago. We need Cyber now."

Harry felt he was inside Ray's head, playing the part of a memory.

"Where did you go seven years ago?" Ray changed the subject. "You remember perfectly before you were eight. What happened to you? I asked you when you came home from who knows where. You hadn't a clue. Amnesia? Shock? We tried everything we could to find out what happened. Modern psychiatry couldn't help either—or synapse testers, or brainwave or impulse readers, archaic home treatment drugs, or even hypnosis. We tried everything. They said there was nothing physically wrong with you. You just forgot seven years of your life."

It was true that Harry had remembered being eight years old, but nothing else until he was fifteen. It was a curse and a blessing; it was this memory gap that set him searching for the missing years and gave him the impetus to practice his thought-blinking, vital in discerning fact from fiction. It also made him obsessive about the past in general.

At the same time he was learning and testing his faculty for thought-blinking, he'd collected the real past: pre-SensaVision vids, ancient CD and DVD encyclopedias and reference books. At first, he'd spent hours immersed in the ancient histories and fictional treatments that were full of violence, conflict, and despair—much to his father's dismay and disapproval. Using the latest in bubble, then molecular memory, Harry had developed an ingenious system of storing and extracting the extremely rare ancient CDs, vintage vids, archaic DVDs, antique SVDs which preceded SensaVision, and the most revered of all, numerous printed books. For a novice, he had accumulated nearly as many of the ancient relics as PerSoc history scholars who had accomplished a similar task as part of their useful but controlled contribution to society.

Ironically, in the process of learning to store his treasures, he had discovered he could memorize vast amounts of information—eidetic memory they called it or rather, a photographic memory. So he actually memorized much of his treasure, making the need for most of his storage unnecessary.

"Why do you spend all your time downloading ancient media artifacts—what do you call them? Books?" his father asked. "Are you dreaming of a better time, Harry? Because if you are, you have to understand, I am, too."

"I suppose so. I know I can't change the present," the teenage Harry said. "I will change the future," he announced calmly. "I will." There had been unbelievable commitment from the fifteen-year-old.

"You probably won't believe this, Harry," his father said, trying to relate to his son. "I know some history, too. If I know kids, and I do, in the past, present or future kids your age always rebel against the common sense of the present." A sulking Harry looked up. "They blow off steam," his father maintained, "then re-join the establishment later."

"Son, for Makr's sake, please keep these ideas to yourself," he spoke sincerely. "I could lose my job and the authorities will take you away. You'll end up in a Makr virtual home and we'll never see each other again." The "virtual home" was home for children without parents; the guardians were a combination of specialized cyberts and holograms—holograms so the Bio children would still identify with humans.

His father's reference to _Makr_ made Harry thought-blink on automatic pilot, breaking the present illusion. Now Bio children were raised in "virtual homes" from birth—no exceptions.

Makr isn't Makr yet. Not for another ten years or more. The Matchmaker cyberserver hasn't evolved yet.

Ray's image dissolved...and a softened image that could only be his mother appeared and spoke warmly, "I love you," to her son. Please obey your father—and the authorities." As incomplete as Harry's memories of his mother and sister were, this _mother_ bore a striking resemblance to Harry's cybertherapist.

A somewhat distorted image of his sister, Jana, aged five, appeared next to her, whispered and blew him a kiss, "I need you to take care of me." Mother and sister dissolved.

"It is for the good of all that you keep your random, uncontrolled thoughts to yourself," his father warned. It is an odd thing for him to say, if he did actually say it and not Makr. "PerSoc holds great benefits for you. I don't care so much for me, but, please, don't put yourself and others at risk."

The image of his father flickered and it appeared Makr had won. Harry seemed pacified.

"Don't worry, I'll keep to the vids, Pop _,"...and my books_ , young Harry thought. "Sorry I spouted off the way I did."

Subject closed, or so it seemed.

So as a teenager he'd kept his passion secret from his parents; he had kept to the "vids" and kept his exploration of ancient history books to himself because he loved and respected his father, even though they didn't always agree. His father had been right about knowing Harry well. He'd known Harry didn't think the world was about to return to the past.

# CHAPTER EIGHT

_"Cloning will enable mankind to reach eternal life."_ **\- Claude Vorilhon**

Kieran's eyes had healed in the six weeks following the accident. She had new eyes, provided by her genetic double, her clone, kept hidden away her and all other Shadows in secret vaults. When she looked in the mirror, she saw no scars, but a clone's dead eyes with no sparkle. _They haven't life enough to sparkle_ , she thought.

"What do you think?" The man in the white coat was pleasant enough.

"What?" She was obviously not in that moment.

"Your eyes are healing nicely." The cloning technician examined the medical chart at the end of her bed. "As functional as before," he said. "Maybe better."

"How so?"

So intent was he on reading her chart, he hardly noticed her question. "Hmmm... Oh, I'm sorry. Visual acuity, that is."

She looked at him blankly.

"No eyestrain or pain?"

"Not that I can tell." She should have been happy, relieved, but she wasn't.

"Is there a problem?"

"Nothing you can fix."

"I'm afraid I don't understand."

"The eyes have no sparkle."

"Oh, I see now. You don't feel your clone's eyes are good enough." Suddenly, she had the technician's attention.

"No, that's not it exactly."

"Your clone is preserved in a vault, hidden from Makr. It resembles you in every detail, except for your brain that continues to evolve while your clone's brain doesn't. Unfortunately, your eyes are really a part of the brain so until they truly becomes a part of you, the 'sparkle' will have to be in the eye of the beholder, if you'll pardon the cliché."

"Why is the clone's brain not allowed to evolve?"

"It's not so much that it's not allowed to evolve, it doesn't have access to experiences that shape the human mind; it is the experiences and connection to its environment that are left out."

"And if they aren't left out."

"I don't see how... I suppose, theoretically, you would be creating another sentient, living being, a total clone and that's not...well, it's just not done. Quite frankly, I think it would scare the hell out of people bumping into themselves." He laughed, but the laugh seemed lost on Kieran.

"You mean you couldn't control them, but this way you can?"

"I see my delightful bedside manner isn't going to appease you, so here it is: Control is only part of it. If we allowed the brain the opportunity to develop a mind, we'd have to accept that body as a sentient being and we can't harvest the parts we need from sentient beings. That's murder. That's why we can't allow brain function to grow beyond what's necessary to maintain the vital organs that might be needed."

"What happens to my clone now?"

"Nothing. We keep her on ice, so to speak, with life support. Oh, we'll probably grow another clone for you when the time is right just in case you need new organs again. Maybe when you're eighty."

"You can do that?"

"Yes, but it's not easy growing a clone. Your clone ages as you do. Of course, your clone is younger, but if you were a child, say of ten, there wouldn't have been one for you; we hadn't managed the process yet. You should be proud. Your ancestors will have it better when they have your clones as well as theirs for spare parts."

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to offend."

He shrugged and put on his pleasant face. "As much as we might like to live forever, we can't grow more than two clones per person in a lifetime. Can't manufacture our own parts as fast as the machines," he said with a force smile. "In some ways, it's a good thing."

"Does anybody really live to be eighty anymore?"

"Some do, mostly Insiders. I don't think Makr bothers with this technology; His Cyber already know how to maximize usefulness. But without cloning, even Makr can't keep Bio parts from eventually wearing out, even with genetic engineering. Out here, we're on our own. Lucky to make sixty Outside. Too many mechanical hazards to get in the way, but I guess you'd know that better than I. You know, being a soldier and all."

"Not anymore."

"Quitting? Lot of that going around?"

"Well, I've done enough..."

"I'm sure you have. Now, if you'll excuse me...I have other patients to attend to."

As the door closed, "I have done enough," she muttered. "I have," she stated emphatically more to convince herself than the technician who has already left.

The door immediately reopens and the technician poked his head in.

"Do you know I've heard the children sing your praises around the Shadow hearths? I've also heard most of them praying to their various gods that you'll be healed. A few even prayed to Makr. Habits die hard," he chuckled softly.

"I thought you might like to know."

She had always enjoyed the children singing heroic ballads about the soldiers. It was for the children that she fought Cyber. For their future.

"My daughter has decided she wants to be a soldier when she's old enough," he said as he eased back in the room. Suddenly he didn't seem so busy.

"Talk her out of it."

"Can't. She's stubborn. When she makes her mind..."

"Maybe we won't have to fight then. Maybe it'll all be over..."

"She'll be old enough next year. I suspect she's a lot like you were at her age. It would be nice if she had someone like you to lead her and keep her from harm."

"I suppose that's every parent's wish. To keep their children safe."

"I just thought you should know she thinks you're 'the best,' as she puts it." He turned and goes out for a second time.

"I'm not going back," she muttered. This time it seemed as though she was waiting for someone to come in again. "I won't go back. I won't."

.

She had no reason to leave the clinic so she used the excuse that she couldn't see properly. Images mixed up, blurred vision at times. That was common with some patients who had received cloned eyes; it was if the eyes had genetic memory, too, and the brain had to reconcile the new connection to the outside world of images with those it stored. Maybe so, the eyes are part of the brain system after all. So, she had her respite from society, her Shadows. She could keep them at bay for a while longer. In a few days, she had a visitor she couldn't refuse to see.

Carlos had told her he'd come to see her the minute he was back from the mission. She knew he means it, but this was just something she had to do by herself.

"Tell me, Carlos. Am I the first or second person you've seen this day?"

"Second, I'm afraid. Had to report in first. Mother..."

"I know. I'm glad to be second in that case."

"You aren't second in my book."

"Thanks." She tried to smile, but something weighed heavily on her mind. "Are we ever going to get better—the human race, I mean?"

"Wow, big question. We have to hope. When we can't hope, we die. All of us."

"Is that why you sent me home with Leach?"

He shook his head. "You needed another focus."

She smiled, knowing he's right. "I would have killed the worthless worm if my eyes..."

Carlos laughed. "I know you would. You broke his nose, you know."

That almost made her smile.

"Thanks for believing in me." There was melancholy in her voice and in her eyes which seemed disconnected, lifeless.

"You are coming back to us, right?" Carlos asked sincerely.

Kieran's sardonic smile and shrug said she didn't know yet, but she also didn't want to talk about it either. Instead, she turned to him. "What's happened to you, Carlos? You've never lied to me before. Where have you been since the raid? Why haven't you come to see me sooner? I know you came back weeks ago."

She was genuinely concerned about her friend. And any talking she did took her mind off her own self-pity. She knew the rumor she heard can't have been true. Carlos would never _choose_ to relocate to another part of the city. There had to be something else happening.

"I have a new place, another Nest, deep underground on the east side. I've been there. It's safe as any of us can be these days." He smiles at the irony. "Even with a cybert factory directly above us, we're sealed in with the Shadows."

She couldn't hide her concern from her old friend. Something wasn't right.

"There's not a Bio stranger or Cyber for a mile or two who can reach us through our access routes," he said, "so hopefully, it will be a good long time before Cyber security investigates the Shadows below."

"Why did you go, Carlos?"

"It was time I left Mother's Nest."

"I know that's what everyone says, but it's not like you to go so...so suddenly. I take it Mother-General was very upset about Ramón."

"I don't blame her. I should have said 'no' to him. Shouldn't have let him run. I just wasn't strong enough."

"Don't say that. You are the strong one. Stronger than any of us. You shouldn't have to leave." Oops. She wasn't supposed to know he was 'asked' to leave.

Carlos frowned. _Maybe it's best she knows._ He shook it off and smiled, "It would have happened sooner or later."

"Did you fight her?"

"What? No, of course not."

"Think she's right?"

"No," he sighed uncomfortably. "But she could be. I don't know. Too much is at stake."

"Carlos, she's not the only one who can strategize and execute a plan." That much was true.

"That's right," he said slyly, "you're pretty good at that yourself. The best, in fact." That wasn't what she meant.

He had always thought she was the strong one, and he'd have said the same thing to her if their roles were reversed. He admired her calm. Some said she was cold, but he knew her emotional distance was very necessary for her own survival. She had always been unruffled and in control—even when the laser ax exploded. She took that calmly, too. But now...her true underside was showing.

"Why don't you take a few extra days off," he said finally. "Relax for a while after you get out of here. Let us take on the cyberts, not Mother, for now. Take care of yourself. We need you."

"Like holes in the head."

_Huh?_ Carlos didn't get it, so Kieran smiled and pointed to her eyes.

"Nice to see you smile again."

"We have to get over this self-pity," she said. "Both of us."

"I uh...have to leave now." Nervously, he went over to her and gently kissed her newly grown eyelashes. She turned away before he can see her eyes glistening with the teary happiness of being close to someone who knows the best part of you.

The rest was an old story, but Carlos felt it worth repeating at times like this. "You know, people are dying every day and not of old age or accidents, but machine executions. We still have to find the way to kill the machines. Makr, really."

"I thought we were already doing that—bit by bit."

"Well, in 35 years all we've managed to do so far is annoy Him. Look, you just get better. I have something of a plan, but nothing will go forth without you. Will you transfer to my Nest? Be my...my lieutenant? My operations officer?"

"I don't know." Pause. "What about Greg?"

"He's staying here. He has a new job." He paused for a sec... "My old one," he added sardonically.

"Sorry."

"Don't be. He's perfect for it. With his knack for learning technology, he's a perfect weapons finder, too. Maybe he'll find a way to kill them all without us. Besides, I have my own Nest to look after in the shadows." He paused to change the subject, then, "They are good people, Kieran. Take the promotion and transfer. We need you."

"I'm not sure I'm up to it, Carlos. If it's important, don't wait for me."

"You've got it all wrong. Without you it won't work."

"Now I know you're feeding my ego."

"Maybe. But you are very good at your job, and we need you. I need you."

_Maybe, just for you, Carlos_ , she admitted to herself.

"Meanwhile—hang in there."

"Hang in there yourself, Carlos," she said. "Mother-General needs her son as much as we need the best soldiers on this planet."

"Then you'll take the job?"

"I don't know. Let me think about it, okay?"

# CHAPTER NINE

" _Reality bites."_ **\- Anonymous**

Harry had trouble sleeping.

Short of taking the rare pristine drugs that hold no side effects or future problems, Makr couldn't help him. Through SensaVision, He can change the environment—and make Harry believe and feel Heaven on Earth. Isn't that what Makr was designed to do: Create a Heaven on Earth?

The room shifted to several environments theoretically more conducive for sleeping. One was airy and spacious. Another was crisp and cool, when he wanted to feel as though he was sleeping under the stars.

Harry thought-blinked, opened his eyes and saw the bare bluish gray walls that formed a seamless fortress from the Outside forces of evil. The few personal pieces of furniture cover basic needs of healthy resting: a bed, a sofa and two chairs, a small dining room table and two chairs. It didn't look it but the moderately comfortable furniture is the best in cyberserver-controlled Bio comfort. Although small and efficient, the one-room apartment, about ten by ten feet with an eight-foot ceiling, could be bigger or something else entirely, with the help Makr's SensaVision. The furniture could become luxurious, stately or ostentatious—whatever its owner desired or needed. Harry viewed the room as a healthy ally, but this one had to be faulty lately. It made him feel comfortable only most of the time, not all. There were gaps, intolerable gaps in its efficiency.

"Damn you, Ray!" Harry said to the walls. _It's all your fault_ , he thought. _We never counted so much on the Cyber god before_. In that kind of mood, when nothing felt right and he felt out of control, he cursed Ray, the Bio Cyber technician. At least that's what the cybertherapist program had said.

Although used to seeing the harsh and unexpected reality others have not, he was surprised this time because with it came a familiar voice.

"Don't 'damn' your father, Harry. And don't call him Ray. He's your father, always." The scolding voice, inside the stark reality of bluish gray walls, was soft, yet firm and intimate. The voice did more than startle him, it rattled him. He knew it wasn't Makr. Didn't know how, but he did.

"Who are you?" he called out forcefully as if spirits were hard of hearing. Then he shouted louder still, "Who are you?" _This is not SensaVision. If not SensaVision, what can it be? How can it interrupt Makr? If Makr is all-powerful..._

He whispered: "Makr! Makr is it you?"

No answer.

Confused, he had nothing else to do but release his pent-up frustration. "We're better than rats!" he vented, shouting to an empty room. _Where did that thought come from?_ In that moment, he felt his blood pressure soar and his heart throbbing, straining against his chest, he panicked.

But I thoughtblinked...that was reality!

He felt a presence again. A different feeling than before. Warmer maybe. This made him less anxious. Not the room, not Makr. Something else. It was more like an interruption of a dream; he saw ghostly Bio images in dark shadow form suspended in air hanging about the room. Somehow even in the dark the shadows images stood out—darker than the night. A cold rush made his skin crawl. A touch! His heart skipped. He gasped.

"You're right. We are better than rats." the tender voice said. "One day it will all make sense to you. I love you."

A realization! "Mom?" Harry started up, but the presence was gone.

Did she touch him somehow? Why did he call out like that? He felt his exhausted mind drift away from its conscious reality to another reality he often feared. Again, it was the lack of control that he feared. Harry let go, reassuring himself that Makr will figure it out while he goes to sleep...to dream...and think...and dream.

Makr's intervention up to this time had allowed him to sleep and dream of paradise. Wide expanses of glorious of sand, surf and sky. Space to do as he pleased. If there were people there, he could see them miles off and easily avoid them before they became social threats.

He felt the sand tickling his foot, and knew what real sand feels like—powdery, gritty, warm, both annoying and pleasing at the same time as it squishes between his toes. He was still on the sand when he heard familiar voice in his head.

Question: "How will I survive without you, Dad?" It was Harry's voice.

Answer: "You will make it as all others have done and will always do—by the grace of Makr." He heard the answer in his father's voice, but something was wrong.

The answer disturbed him, not because the words he heard surprised him—they did—but because the words had to have come from Makr Himself. The voice was Harry's father but it wasn't him. Who else could it be? It was close. More pleasant, prophetic in its timbre somehow. He remembered an ancient vidchip of a film, "The Ten Commandments." _That's it! It is the voice of Moses—actually Charlton Heston, a Twentieth Century actor._ It was logical to him that Makr would create a voice people could relate to—like he could relate to the actor. Even Harry never spoke to Makr directly. It was always through a medium—a three-dimensional holographic _Bio_ image. It did make a difference that the voice was an actor's voice. Because it came from Harry's collection.

Makr knows everything!

Harry's eyes opened widely as he bolted up from his semi-dream state and the sand and all its pleasantness went away. Makr had intervened directly—not through SensaVision—but in a voice that had made him quiver because it was intimately personal. He had felt an eerie presence that could only be attributed to Makr. He consciously thanked Makr as one does a god for saving him from a near death experience. It is a common experience with Bios, Makr said. All Bios thank the superior being for something fairly often, some needier or devout ones more often than others.

"Mimic not your descendants for they have gone to the destruction and taken loved ones with them," Makr's voice thundered in his head. It was another voice of authority he had heard before from his collection.

The effect of Makr's direct intervention on Harry's psyche was naturally unsettling, but it was ethereal, lasting only a moment as the environment changed, the dark comforting him now to help him forget the encounter. The SensaVision result afterwards he knew would come. It was always the same: solace in a place of unbelievable beauty and comfort.

His mind was soothed and refreshed until a voice pierced the shield of pleasant illusion and put a knife to it.

"All lies! It's all lies, Harry," said a strangely familiar woman's voice. "Reality is another matter. All Bios matter."

He'd heard it before. Where? Not in his vid collection.

The soft, gentle, but intense, voice of a woman punctured the armor he had worn for so long, crippling his resolve, and he found he was reaching out, crying out in the abyss of his dreams, "Help me, Makr!"

He woke up drenched in his own sweat; his vision was blurry from sleep.

He felt the dreams—the hateful dreams, his Hell returning. Reluctantly he allowed his body to return to its comfortable womb, to let Makr's SensaVision flow over him. The room sensed his need, pulled a soothing darkness over his head, while the bed held him snugly as it conformed to his body, forming his protective armor again. He felt strange, and again an unearthly quality enveloped him in a way that he couldn't explain.

Someone was in the room!

There was a flash as before, but this time it felt stronger than ever before. In the millisecond that followed the flash, Harry knew a different reality. His memories now seemed crystal clear. He knew his father more than before. It was a kinder, softer reality that brought a tear to Harry's eye as he remembered loving his father, mother and sister.

At that moment, the SensaVision world blinked itself. The images surrounding him flickered. Harry had long believed that when SensaVision blinks, it's Makr shuddering because He's lost a bit of control.

Does Makr even understand me?

The explanation of _who he is_ could be summed up in one word. _Wholeness_. Harry wanted to be whole and he felt that important memories of his life were missing. He was devoid of experiences he should remember but couldn't and was haunted by the dreams which had no bearing to the reality in which he was living. While other Bios were busying themselves, enjoying the wonderful life of leisure, Harry was busy putting the puzzle of his life together while wearing what it seemed only he knew to be the rose colored glasses of illusion.

While in earlier days, Harry, the rebellious youth, would have loved to be responsible for causing a flicker, this slightly older Harry was afraid and vulnerable. He felt a tightening in his chest and uncontrollable tears streamed down his cheeks. He couldn't remember having cried like this before. He must have, but that was before.

"Damn you, Makr! I just want the truth!" he called out in his sleep, both frightened and angry. "Why don't you keep the fear and sadness away?"

_Because you can't have it both ways: unfettered emotion as well as control,"_ a voice seemed to come to him.

Then Makr was silent, but His silence made Harry an unwilling, yet determined subject.

From that moment on he practiced his unique ability to see the raw reality by blocking or disrupting the SensaVision illusion. He found the act of thought-blinking itself—seeking reality in his own way, addictive and exciting, but forgot the possible consequences. Regrettably, without firm knowledge of the extent of Makr's abilities to detect his unproductive fantasies, he didn't realize that the frequency of thought-blinking was taxing Makr's patience. He was unaware that Makr had allowed his "little" activity as an experiment in abnormal Bio behavior.

Fortunately, there appeared to have been no overt action on Makr's part this time, so Harry assumed either Makr was unaware or didn't constantly exercise control. In time his gift became habit. Sometimes without conscious effort, he found himself experiencing the grim reality of his world. All he had to do was shake off the illusion, or thought-blink and he could remember a genuine experience. He'd find Truth. And, with Truth, Hope. Contentment might be right around the corner. If not contentment, inner calm, at least. Wholeness might have to wait.

# CHAPTER TEN

_"The oldest and strongest emotion of mankind is fear. And the oldest and strongest kind of fear is fear of the unknown."_ **\- Author Unknown**

Harry's hover-car followed its cyber grid-map to Cyber Match Central. The vehicle's interior, anointed with comfortable furnishings, adjusted to Harry's every conscious or unconscious whim. A bubble top kept the Outside out and the Inside in. Approaching Cyber Match Central, the car sensed he was tense and surrounded him with blue sky, puffy white clouds with a steady breeze that pushed his hair back slightly. The car seat warmed to please him and gently filled with softness, holding him snug and secure. Apparently Harry's psyche needed that.

"Mr. Bolls, we have arrived at your destination." the car's voice—an agreeable female voice—announced gently and earnestly. Harry didn't feel the motion as the hover-car stopped and floated to the ground to rest a mere two inches from the surface. Equipped with SensaVision programs, these newer models could mask g-forces, making an even more perfect experience. That way the car's occupant arrived refreshed and ready to seek a social match.

Abruptly, the usually obliging voice that easily mimicked the positive attributes of both Bio genders, became tinny, sharp, mechanical—obviously of cybert origin, and as obnoxious as intended.

"Warning! Caution! Warning. Do not exit. Possible contacts with other Bio arrivals prohibit your exit from this vehicle."

Pause, then the tone reverted to the familiar and soft-spoken Bio sounding voice—another female, this time, with a distinctly subservient tone.

"Sir, would you like your usual vodka cocktail while you are waiting?"

"Yes, thanks."

"You are welcome, Sir." The voice was steady, calm and compliant. There was a breath of cool fog as the dashboard presented the gimlet of Absolute Citron vodka with lemon slice on a platter. It would ease the added anxiety caused by the warning. Alcohol, like tobacco, now existed in innocuous forms without the insidious side effects, replicating the ancient euphoria momentarily and totally evaporating the alcohol absorbed by the blood. The euphoria dissipated, too, moments later.

"The way is clear, Sir." His head also cleared itself of the very brief warm feelings of intoxication.

The hover-car's gull-wing doors open with a hiss, allowing him to stand up and exit the vehicle without stooping. As Harry stepped out he noticed the same blue sky dotted with wispy white clouds. The clouds began stirring in response to a slight but pleasantly warm breeze surrounding him now. Ahead he saw the entrance, ringed by an unnatural formation of those same clouds.

He thought-blinked playfully. The blue sky and white clouds vanished and were replaced with a totally overcast gray sky and a vast expanse of bland gray and brown buildings. The buildings, including the one he was about to enter, appeared to be in various stages of disuse—considerably worn but apparently still functional, sanitized for human occupancy. Harry noticed the buildings were still adorned with early twentieth century architectural touches. He knew some older buildings like these would be destroyed and recycled, but before that happened Makr would have the inhabitants removed in their sleep and moved to identical quarters. The inhabitants would be oblivious to the change unless Makr told them. Just when Harry's curiosity was making him want to see the inside of these buildings, two of them imploded and collapsed almost simultaneously at a safe distance from where Harry stood. Teams of cyberts rushed to the rubble. It was the first time he had seen a group of street cleaner and deconstruction cyberts performing their respective tasks. Harry reluctantly turned his back on the scene and headed to the entrance and the treasure he had come for.

Harry would remember this experience and relieve it in his dreams. Good dreams, he hoped.

The Cyber Match Central entrance was a rectangular opening in the building; there was no door—just a dark space large enough for one person to pass through. Only a small unobtrusive sign to the left of the opening, abridged, censored and succinctly worded as in all government communications these days, marked the entrance as the place where Bios went to identify and receive Cyber sanction for personal meetings. The sign read: _Cyber Match Central—Matches for Every Bio. It's the Law._

.

In an alleyway on the upper West Side of the city, a Stealth-cloaked figure created a ripple in the darkness as it moves through the shadows. This charcoal gray phantom slinked through the inky blackness of night. To any unlikely observer, human or visually-equipped Cyber, the flowing ghoul was seen as a change in the reflection of moonlight or the stars as clouds pass by. Only another Shadow could perceive the movement for what it really was. It wasn't a beast; it was just a man hiding his repugnant actions from, not only patrolling cyberts, but his own kind.

Not trusting his own Stealth technology, the furtive figure looked around and peered deep into the shadows to make sure he was alone. Finally, as he faced the reinforced iron door, he relaxed for a moment before slapping a baseball-size gray malleable substance on the door where a lock would have been found in the past and presses an object the size of a small coin into it. Several decades ago the door he was trying to enter would have easily opened to the alley. Now it stood rusted to the door jam. Simple science had made entrance through the door impregnable except by force. The building's eroded and broken stone facade told him it was a rather ancient building—maybe two hundred years old—and ignored by Cyber because it was obsolete and inefficient, and by Bios because it offered little or no Shadow protection from cyberts on the prowl. No need to preserve—no need to destroy.

But, what did he know or care about such things? The building contained what he wanted; that's what was important here. Rumors in the Nest had it that amid all of Jackson's cybert weapons and spare parts temporarily stored here were century old, obsolete sex cyberts and other cyber-toys. The earliest versions of SensaVision had made Bio sex toys and other level-one interactive devices like these obsolete. Fine for those connected to Makr; however, Outside, Harlan Leach felt he had no choice but to find pleasure this way. It has been a perversion for many a lonely ancient human. He only hoped his prizes still functioned.

Only one way to find out, he thought, as he moved quickly down the alley about 50 yards and around the corner. That should be far enough. Pulling open his cloak for a fraction of a second, he took a tiny square box no bigger than the palm of his gloved hand from a pocket inside his cloak. He braced himself against the wall so the blast would channel down the alley and miss him. Then, finding his earplugs in another pocket, stuffed them in his ears underneath his cloak. This would be big, he predicted optimistically. Big enough to do the trick he hoped. Although ancient as the explosive was—as old as this building, more or less—it should be adequate to open the door.

Just as he started to push the red button on the little plastic box, he stopped to eye the inanimate device fondly. "I want to feel your power," he said quietly as he took off one glove and gently caressed the box, touching the button ever so lightly. Then, staring straight ahead, he removed his cowl and hood.

"I know you can sense my warmth, but wait till you feel this," he said arrogantly, a little louder as if the building could hear him.

He knew he wasn't in any immediate danger from Cyber. If the explosion was great enough, it should shut down Cyber activity in the immediate area. With any luck, he'd be in and out before cyberts, almost instantaneously re-booted, and were dispatched to do anything about it. He'd have to move quickly.

As he pushed the button, he found the resulting explosion exhilarating, orgasmic even—and that was just the sound alone. The force sent him flying back some 60 feet. He landed bruised and battered; the wind knocked out of him, but otherwise unhurt. _Oh, Makr! Okay, so it was a little bigger than I imagined_.

He ran his hands all over his body _. A few holes in his Stealth covering—nothing else. Uh oh, those holes could be a problem._

As he looked around the building to where he had placed the explosive, there was no longer a door, nor half the building. So, he had used a bit too much of the stuff. _Hell, I never used the stuff before,_ he thinks _. Who cares? Besides, there is plenty more of that C-4 plastic explosive or—whatever-it-is-called. Sure packs a wallop even after a couple hundred years of storage._

"Bzzzzz." _What the..._

He rounded the corner in time to see a cybercleaner, half the height of a man, intent on vaporizing and inhaling the building's remnants. It must have been in the area. Naturally, since it was a demolition cybert, it could handle concussion or electromagnetic pulses, but it was otherwise harmless. He watched the oblivious cybert with interest as it tried to deal with the rubble and became more and more frustrated.

He stifled a chuckle, noting that clearing the rubble would be a daunting, if not an impossible task, for a one hundred-plus pound street cleaning cybert—even one equipped with all the latest in disintegration devices. It will eventually blow a fuse, but not before it sends a message to Makr, and larger cybert replacements would arrive that could handle a job this size.

If Makr can shield cyberts, why just this one?

_Is it just cyber street cleaners that aren't affected by the explosions because they're too simple, too basic, not enough "brains" to scramble? Or is it this type of explosive?_ Leach had neither knowledge nor brains enough to figure that out. Right now he was more concerned about being discovered by bigger, more capable machines.

Hidden inside the massive pile of steel, stone and composite rubble, Leach's 5'7" frame, 140 pounds of wiry muscle and bones, might be missed by this task-dedicated cybert but he wasn't going to wait around to find out. Quietly, he crept toward the oversized street vacuum, making sure he was clear of the pulverizer that contained the various tools the cybert had to do its job. At that moment, it was using ultra concentrated sound waves in an attempt to break up a large chunk of steel, concrete and glass. If that was unsuccessful, it would use its laser. When all else failed, it would use its disintegrator to blast the stone into digestible pieces. Inside the small cybert, those "digestible" pieces that were sucked in would be broken down even further to separate elements and molecules into the energy life force for all of Makr's cyberts. It would just stop short of spitting the atom.

Leach picked up an iron pipe about three feet long and two inches thick. He had seen Carlos do this, and if Carlos could do this, he certainly could. Looking for the weak spot, he whipped the pipe around and slammed it sideways into the cybert's neck; his intention was to decapitate it where the least armor was located but he was disappointed.

"Bong! Bong!" Nothing! It didn't occur to him that a cybert with shielding, working in demolition might have had a tougher skin. The cybercleaner zipped its head 180 degrees. As Leach raised the pipe in defense, the cybercleaner's laser, probably triggered by the blow, fired and sliced the pipe in half.

Firing the laser unexpectedly made the cybert hesitate, which was logical considering it wasn't made for combat, performed only one function at a time and is wasn't sophisticated enough to be terribly fast. Seizing the opportunity, Leach swung the rest of the pipe down, this time aiming between the two light photo sensors and caved in the front of the cybert cranium.

The primary suction unit at the cybert's chest that had been inhaling minuscule particles of debris previously now extended its hose and initiated suction again, this time unintentionally trying to inhale Leach through an opening less than three inches in diameter. Leach panicked as he found himself attached to the vacuum unable to pull free. His Stealth clothing was being sucked in—with him in it!

As he wrestled to get out of his Stealth cloak, he managed to pull his sleeve free just in time to miss another disintegrating laser beam. He let go of the sleeve, which tore free at the shoulder, and watched the cybert make a meal of it, sucking the rough-hewed fabric inside and dissolving it. A tiny bit of steam exited through a hole at the cybert's opposite end.

Leach was stunned. _The damn thing is still able to function—even with the front of its head bashed in!_

Traveling without Stealth protection on one arm would make getting home awkward; he'd have to keep one arm inside his cloak while he made his way back to the Nest to avoid detection.

No longer attached to the cybert by his clothing, Leach thought he was free as well. Not so. The cybert lurched forward and attached itself—this time to skin. At first, he felt his skin being pulled tighter and tighter. Then, he experienced the pain of flesh and bones being pulled into a sausage-sized space—far smaller than anyone could survive. He saw the cybert sensor turn red. The garbage disintegrating laser fired up. Burning! The laser sliced through his cheek.

Ow! Damn! An inch up and over, it could have sliced through the brain.

"I've taken about all I'm goin' to take from you, Garbage-eater!"

Tightly clutching the pipe, he brought it in close to his body and used the end like a piston, repeatedly slamming it down on top of the Cyber _cranium_. With each blow he nearly lost consciousness because of the excruciating pain he was in. _The pain can't last forever,_ he thought. _How can this machine survive all this? Aren't the "brains" of this thing in its head like most other cyberts?_ This particular cybert didn't have enough critical programming to deal with this kind of situation, but Leach's abuse had triggered a normal sequence of events used in street cleaning. Not only did Leach's hands, head, chest and cheek hurt, but the cybert was beating him by doing its job—without thinking!

Without warning, the cybercleaner reversed the suction and blew Leach some twenty feet away from where he had been grappling with the cleaner. As he slammed into the nearby building the air was forced out of his lungs. Like a fish out of water, he gasped for air, but the available air outside, filled with fine dust particles, only made him cough and choke. Breathing was only one of his problems. Frantic the machine would switch to disintegrate mode, he yanked his hood off, exposing his face so he could see better, possibly breathe easier, but then discovered that breathing the dust was far worse. As he choked, unable to breathe, he lost consciousness. Upon opening his eyes, he saw only a single red light, blinking for a few seconds and then it went out. He sensed a burning in his shoulder...and lost consciousness again.

Finally, he stirred, not knowing if he should be afraid; there didn't seem to be a part of his body that didn't ache, throb or burn. Even tiny movements to raise up off the ground caused him more pain although these wounds were only skin scrapes from the rough, hard pavement beneath him. Breathing a sigh of relief, thinking the ordeal was over; he realized he was partially uncovered—more than just his hand. Panic set in! No Stealth cover on his face or his arm!

It is the one fear he couldn't pretend doesn't exist for him and connects him to the Shadows: an almost natural phobia of discovery, of being without a Shadow or Stealth.

"Makr, damn you!" he screamed.

No Stealth cover on his face or his arm! The brainless trash incinerator had done this to Leach, the great soldier.

As The Great Soldier limped away quickly and pathetically without his prized sex cyberts, he swore he heard laughing. _Impossible._ He moved circuitously, trying to find comfort in the shadows along the route home. He found none—none for he felt too vulnerable without half his Stealth protection.

Seconds later, the battered Cyber street cleaner disintegrator malfunctioned again, this time firing uncontrollably, leveling the rest of the building it was cleaning and the one next to it, a small apartment building with only 1,508 residents. The street cleaner at last ceased all functions and there wasn't another single street cleaner for miles to clean up the mess.

.

It took Leach twice as long to return to the Nest after hiding in the shadows and making doubly sure no Bios spotted him and absolutely no cyberts detected his presence—even small harmless ones like the Cyber street cleaner. Grateful to return to the safe shadows of home, he rushed to his quarters and removes his Stealth garments to find his body covered with red circles. Vacuum kisses. So much for Cybersex.

.

Cyber Match Central was merely a holding area with plain desks and chairs large enough to separate and mask Bios in darkness until a match was found. Fitted with special contact lenses, Desiree could see his perfectly ordinary features in the dim light of Cyber Match Central that shielded everyone from truly seeing each other. Ironically, they appeared to each other as mere shadows, ghosts of living beings, without faces, without discernible clothing or body types; they were simply there to indicate availability at that moment.

Every movement would be controlled and observed by Cyber, for the Bios' own protection, of course. Individuals were separated by several feet, although it wasn't really necessary; they could have been matched from the comfort of their home. Some Bios still needed to be in the presence of their own kind. Centers like this prevented "the last-man-on-earth syndrome," and gave the Bios the impression of being around others in a group, while still sanitizing the potentially destructive environment. Of course, Makr never understood, but the solution was simple enough to keep the Bios sane.

Each match seeker heard his or her own "happy" music or noise and could order a drink from a Cyber server. Only previously matched as friends who could meet socially were allowed contact while here; all others had to wait to be matched. Unauthorized contacts violated PerSoc laws and were punished accordingly. Harry had alienated every "friend" he had been matched with. He just had nothing to say to others who existed purely in Makr's world. But he had to get out. There was that need to be around others of his own kind.

The beautiful demon smiled at Harry's shadow.

_Right size and age,_ she thought. Although she couldn't be certain until she was closer to him, she thought she understood why her people were interested in him even at this distance. _He definitely doesn't stand out in a crowd, and, in the artificial darkness he stands out even less. That could be useful._ He blended so well that when she let her attention slip for a moment, she lost him and had to sift through the shadows again to find him.

Desiree was the consummate bait: She was Harry's fantasy type physically—young, attractive in form, yet, in certain lights either seductive or innocent. In a society that reveres anonymity and blandness for safety's sake, Harry epitomized the ordinary and average. Desiree was neither; she was striking in looks and alluring in her personality. She might be Harry's fantasy but never his match. This made him all the more ripe for what she has planned.

Harry had no idea he was about to be ...not eaten ...something worse: accosted. Accosted and taken.

Experience with similar missions had minimized her hesitation, although this prey was different from her usual scientist or doctor. He was an Insider with no useable Outside skills. The fact that he talked to Makr directly was troubling but not enough to deter her from her task. She had always appreciated a challenge.

"Hello," Desiree's whisper broke the silence and resonated loudly in a room where people never actually talked with one another.

She heard a gasp or two, and with her night vision contact lenses spied some heads moving to get a look. _This Insider even perspires more than the others_.

"Hello, I said," Desiree insisted. "I'm talking to you silly."

Harry flinched.

Gotcha!

"Yes, you!"

Silently, Harry turned stiffly in his chair, ever so slightly—only a few inches away from the voice, pretending not to hear, trying hard to be inconspicuous. Squinting in the darkness, he tried to see what he both feared and needed: Bio contact.

He listened for the voice again, but his nervous anticipation made his sweat stream uncontrollably. He felt a spring of moisture roll down his side, despite his heavy, neutralizing antiperspirant.

Harry couldn't help noticing the inviting and delicate fragrance of flowers coming from the same direction as the voice he had heard moments ago and he felt anxious once again. It seemed the scent was created for him alone. The olfactory assault makes the situation even more dangerous.

Desiree saw her prey was frozen with fear. _Some hero you are,_ she thought.

He could barely see, his eyes glazed over with trepidation and indecision. Desiree took advantage of the opportunity to place her ticket, number side down, with a message scribbled on the back, on the very table in front of him. He flinched helplessly a second time as he saw her invading his personal space. He had not been this close to another Bio before—not that he could remember or thought-blink—for years.

Blinking himself back to reality, his jaw dropped as she thrust the note in front of him. _I won't look, I won't read it!_ he thought. His body stiffened.

Thought-blinking isn't working. He's too nervous. _Should have done it sooner_ , he thought _._ If he ever needed it, he needed it now!

_Is this Makr's doing?_ agonized Harry. _If so, all is lost anyway._ Always the cynical Harry.

In light of this revelation, he reasoned he would lose nothing if he read the note now. Yet he continued debating with himself about reading it. Mindful of this hesitation, Desiree persisted in her physical seduction by pulling her shoulders back—thereby extending her breasts, tilting her head, raising her right eyebrow, and smiling. She blew him a kiss. _Who can resist that?_

Harry wiped the sweat from his brow with a handkerchief and tried to dry his palms with the saturated cloth without much luck.

_A drink!_ He needed a drink to calm his nerves. More noticeably agitated, he fumbled holding his drink, spilling some of it on the counter. Finally, with a barely audible screech that sounded like thunder in his mind, he inched his chair back, ready to bolt.

_Damn!_ He couldn't breathe _. Need more air! More air! Makr, where the Hell are you?_

Harry was on the verge of hyperventilating while the less than vigilant Desiree added more bait to her trap to captivate her prey. She smiled. It was the self-assured smile that finally melted his resistance.

Harry imagined he was about to open a door to Hell, but he reached for it anyway. He knew better, but he reached...grasped at the unknown. He spied a look at the note. It said, "I choose you." Interesting thought, chosen but not matched. But he could do it. He'd have to overcome the unnatural fear that had been bred into him; however, he was determined to try.

He could pass on a match tonight and justify it later. He could say he was sick, which was true; his stomach was churning and bubbling, and he was certainly nauseous. One more personal invasion and he knew he'd lose his lunch. The moment he started up from his seat a Cyber waiter scurried to his table and wiped away the liquid Harry had spilled without knowing it.

Harry died...or thought he had.

His heart stopped. Not really, perhaps only for a fraction of a second as it skipped a beat, but he was sure his end was near.

_Whose reality is it this time? This time it would be his_ , he resolved.

As he left Cyber Match Central to be with Desiree, and with no attempt at getting Cyber approval, Harry readied himself for one hell of a ride.

Taken.

Flash. Bright light. Noise roaring. No definite sounds—just noise. Clanging. Banging. Pain. The dream...

# CHAPTER ELEVEN

_"The dream shows the inner truth and reality of the patient as it really is: not as I conjecture it to be, and not as he would like it to be, but as it is."_ **\- C.G. Jung** _, The Practical Use of Dream Analysis._ _(1934)._

Harry's dream was different this time for a couple of reasons. The familiar images of the cyberserver parts, the assembly line gurneys, and the Bio surgeons were there. The Cyber parts on tables were nearly complete now, forming some kind of apparatus. He still couldn't identify their function or purpose. Faceless Bios had faces now—fierce, angry faces. The transformed Bios were smashing the Cyber, some fully assembled now on the tables, other larger Cyber on the floor. Bright lights. Total darkness. Blindness. No visual images now. Oblivion.

Suddenly, he was inundated with auditory images. Unnatural sounds. He could identify a few he'd heard before. Metal slamming against metal. Again. Again. Slowly at first, almost a funeral march pace, but with erratic rhythm. The moment he became desensitized to the noise, the pounding began which changed all that. Heavy handed, sledgehammer-like. Harry quivered with each resounding blow.

The odd thing was that Harry was dreaming when he wasn't in bed.

"Harry! Harry! Are you in there?" It was Desiree. "Watch where you're going!"

The pole nearly ran into him! He was walking and dreaming. _That's a new one,_ Harry thought. Suddenly, it dawned on him where he was. _Two inches from a derelict street lamp. Worse! He is Outside!_

"Oh, Makr!" Harry gasped—and his mouth was agape. When he realized where he was exactly, he became giddy. He couldn't understand his elation.

"You're such a babe... Desiree said. "There's no Makr here, Harry."

_Maybe not,_ she thought, _but you can never be sure._

.

"Harry Bolls is mine!" Bio Chief Prosecutor Marlene Hess exclaimed loudly to herself as she witnessed him leave the Cyber Match Central. Bolls had committed a most heinous crime as far as she was concerned. He had violated personal space, and without Makr sanction, left the Center with a stranger—an Outsider at that. Criminal acts like these usually disgusted her, but this single blatant violation by a single SensaVision employee enraged her. While other Bios had committed similar capital crimes, her feelings then had been indifferent, uninvolved, except to prepare Makr for the Bio variable. This one was different: A Bio cyberlink of proven influence! And he was loose Outside!

His psychological profile told her he was a searcher—a troubled soul who was using the Cyber psychotherapist program regularly and someone who can lead us to others.

"Do you wish to delete his mental record now, Prosecutor Hess?"

The question came from an animated, exceptionally lifelike holographic image perched on a platform floating some five feet high and in front of the prosecutor's chair. It wasn't really necessary for the operation, but it made her feel Makr's personal presence rather than a disembodied voice that just seemed freaky sometimes. Since Makr always looked to accommodate her preference and the most receptive format for his Bios, so be it. Most times the platform hovered at a safe distance where the chief prosecutor was able to ignore the presence if she wanted to. The sensory-enhanced three-dimensional image was a rather handsome, distinguished gentleman about fifty years old with graying temples and a slightly receding hairline; she perceived him as a seemingly paternal man—firm, yet fair, and found it easy to forget he was not real.

"It is normal procedure," the image added pleasantly.

"No," Marlene Hess responded. "Not yet, anyway."

"What about the girl?"

"Insignificant. No potential impact." She tried to sound sure of herself.

"If we take her out of the social equation, he'll become invisible."

"Excuse me?"

"He either goes underground or back Inside where he's no good to us."

"Why 'invisible?'"

"Sorry, creative Bio speech," she offered.

"If you are to succeed in this job of advising me, you're going to have to be more efficient in your word choice."

"Yes, Makr."

She paused, stirring the thoughts in her mind, trying to separate the emotional from the rational until cold hard facts emerged. _Let's see how far he goes_ , she concluded.

"Do you wish to override State procedure?" _The cyberserver image sounded impatient. Strange, almost an emotion,_ she thought.

"At the moment, yes," she replied.

"May I remind you that State recognizes there will always be a few dissidents?" Pause. "It is better to let them go than infect investigators with undo evil influence."

"I know. I know!" _Sometimes Makr can be most annoying_ , she thought.

With that thought, Makr's image changed from the fatherly authority image on the platform to a six-sensory illusion of a handsome soul mate, a confidant. The voice was gentle, caring, reassuring, but Marlene knew, no matter how real it always seemed, that it was still pure cyberserver magic.

The holo-platform disappeared because it had perceived its presence was interfering and potentially affecting the chief prosecutor's thought processes. It would return the instant the chief prosecutor needed it. She sighed.

SensaVision break.

The office, reading her tenseness, became an island escape. Like Harry, she loved the smells of salt air, gardenias, coconuts, and wet sand being dried by the sun; however, the environment was totally hers. She was surrounded by all the positive attributes of the scene she loved so well as a distraction from life's tenser moments.

Her office, like Harry's wall, knew she hated bananas so there were no bananas in the fruit feast that lay at easy reach. She thought of pineapples, and the office obliged—slicing them before her eyes. The island birds' melodic music played to the wind's bass section and the ocean's easy beat as waves broke on the beach. Seagulls added the refrain. That was the music Marlene heard. Yet, as she lounged luxuriously, she found something missing; an unwanted thought almost invaded her space.

With her next breath she heard the native music. Suggestive, sensual music played with her subconscious, creating the ultimate reality. _Everything is real. Believe everything_. The presence was complete. The carpet had long become sand as the image combined sounds, smells, and subliminal mental suggestions so Marlene could experience sand squeezing between her toes. She turned her head and discovered her towel spread in the sand waiting for her. She enjoyed this image and let the pampering relax her. Makr knew she needed time not to think. She knew she needed something else.

Sitting naked on the towel a few minutes later, Marlene was satisfied—at least in body—her mind still listless, undecided. Moments before there had been a lover who had made love to her; she liked her men, tall, slender and fit with dark hair and unshaven. A rough exterior, but a gentle interior. As a physical match he had been her type, but she couldn't love or fall in love with this imitation Bio man; he was image and sensation—nothing more. He hadn't spoken but her mind had filled in the blanks with a voice calling her name, expressing desire, excitement and fulfillment. _Not everyone needs to go to Matches R Us or Cyber Match Central,_ she thought. There was no need to leave the room; she didn't have time.

Then again, it was never really up to her. Knowing what was best for her, Makr selected the details accordingly. At that moment, Makr had decided that she didn't require romantic assignations or emotional commitments, just sex. The right images, a few aromas, multiple sensations, a few specially focused sensations and voila! Our chief prosecutor was primed for action.

She responded to the image Makr had provided by clinging gratefully to her lover's hard muscled form, moving rhythmically, purposefully rubbing sensitive areas to excite him. Not surprisingly, he uttered moans of pleasure and turned to massage and caress her own svelte form until she reciprocated with her own moans and gasps of delight.

Marlene sensed their bodies flowing together. This motion was pleasing and satisfying in a natural way that seemed in sync with the other rhythms on the island. The six-dimensional image of her world flickered. Instantly, the blue sky turned bright white, then black with stars in abundance. It was as though the sky has turned inside out. The stars melted into a myriad of bright colors. The wind blew gently at first, then, became a hurricane force. She was blown away, scattered to the heavens, but her body remained—and his... She felt his presence inside her and her own warm juices. They were entwined in each other's body, moaned with pleasure again and again, but it was anything but monotonous to Marlene. _More! More!_ She screamed. She saw his mouth form the same words, but he was silent.

_Must be the strong silent type,_ she mused and stifled a giggle. Then, as abruptly as he came, he'd gone—without leaving a trace—just a feeling, a memory. Sand became carpet again. Island-like images dissolved.

She rubbed her chin, still stinging from being scraped by his rough beard. She smiled. Of course, her chin was not really scraped, although she would see a scrape if she looked in a mirror and the pain would feel real. She knew that the mildly painful sensation would help her remember and enjoy the sexual experience later without depending on Makr's SensaVision. So, real or imagined, it didn't matter.

She didn't need people—real people; she needed to do her job and that pleased Makr, Who, in turn, pleased her by giving her pleasure on her terms. What more was there to life?

Refreshed, the chief prosecutor scanned Makr surveillance reports on the master viewer that had seamlessly reappeared. The master viewer platform was the largest floating in the sanctuary. The three dimensional images appearing on the platform couldn't be confused with reality since they were framed by the viewer platform itself. She liked it that way so she could wander about the room while offering her unique Bio insight to the cyberserver and her instructions to Cyber security.

Minimizing the danger from the Outside. That was her job. _Simply track them and provide the Cyber security with enough data to repair the damage done by the dissidents and prevent them from influencing others._ _To apprehend without Bio contact... Let the Cyber security handle it and nothing would change,_ she thought. She hated letting the Cyber security handle it. Yet, the thought echoed in her mind.

"That is correct." Makr answered without having been asked the question. "Let Cyber security handle it."

The man-designed mechanism hummed anxiously, reminding the chief prosecutor that State, with Makr's help, was waiting for input. _Why is she mulling this over? State's solution is clear. Do nothing._

"Chief Prosecutor, do you have a question, a comment? Analysis?"

She could almost hear the impatience in the synthetic voice, which naturally didn't sound synthetic at all.

While Makr's artificial intelligence was busy learning and integrating Bio input from the chief prosecutor, He was also absorbing and linking outside systems. Makr also found it necessary at this time to analyze Marlene's behavior pattern.

This Bio thinks too much and tells me too little. She thinks she has control. It would take a moment to adjust the flickering that comes from the massive information flow—slightly longer to adjust the Bio or eliminate her. Bios can be so unaware.

"What I see from these reports disturbs me," she said, seemingly unaware of Makr's reasoned trepidation.

Marlene continued mulling it over in her mind. Granted, the number of violators was larger than it had ever been, but that wasn't a problem as long as the newcomers behaved themselves. Makr maintained that Outsider dissent was having an insignificant effect and didn't present a relevant danger to the accomplishment of PerSoc in general as long as it remained isolated and confined to Outside. If the rebels wanted to live without Makr's help, so be it. However, Marlene saw that the bigger problem was the forming of a pattern, which meant organization. And, organized crime...well, that was a definite problem.

"The area of dissident movement is concentrated and distributed equally in this city," she continued aloud. "Some State cities show no growth, no change, just random disappearances. Here we have growth and it's organized. Check the data for probability. I think we have a serial contact criminal. Perhaps, even a social ring. Makr forbid." She had to be careful thinking aloud like that.

Makr's report contained exactly what the chief prosecutor already knew. This was a serious problem. Then, she thought aloud. "We have to do something. We've got to stop him!"

"You Bios will risk certain death from exposure to your own kind even if you got your man or woman."

She caught herself. _If I leave it to you, Cyber_ , she thought, _we do nothing_. _Careful, watch those dangerous thoughts, Marlene._

_It's not very intelligent for a sentient Bio creature to think so loudly_ noted Makr. _You have no idea what is happening. I tell you what you need to know._

_Leave these matters to the Cyber security,_ she told herself. Although oblivious to Makr's unvoiced pronouncement, she responded as though she's heard it.

Just give Him input. That's what you're here for. Provide Makr the Bio variables that help explain or un-muddle (clarify is the wrong word) illogical Bio behavior equations. Bios are so damned illogical, unpredictable...and dangerous.

The chief prosecutor was sure of one thing: Harry Bolls, dangerous or not, would be the first Bio example erased to be shown on a mandatory SensaVision program to the populace. By his capture he'd convey a message first—a message that Makr's laws are necessary to save this planet's Bio life forms from total annihilation. He would be the last Bio cyberlink to escape from the leniency of PerSoc—even if she had to venture out of sanctuary herself and risk contamination.

_We, Bios,_ she thought, _are the cursed of all animals. No other creature harms for sport or power. Even man-designed intelligent Cyber don't destroy each other; they repair each other and make improvements._

She forced a smile to conceal her bitterness and a mysterious hatred toward other Bios—an emotion that affected her psyche. She couldn't allow another Bio to influence her. Sensing her smile was false, the room changed again.

"Damn you, Harry Bolls!"

.

At the same time, Harry and Desiree continued on their way, unaware they were even missed. Since leaving Cyber Match Central without an approved Bio match, Harry knew he could be leaving his old life behind for good. He might have to live in isolation for eternity, all for a woman he barely knew. It was a romantic notion totally without merit, but it made him smile.

Totally ignorant of his New World, his reluctant steps underlined a wavering acceptance of his uncertain future. He had no choice but to go forward...to his new home. Under other rare circumstances when a Bio was permitted an excursion to the Outside wasteland, he wore his blinders and his mask for his own safety. The blinders (Harry jokingly called them rose-colored glasses—some reference from the past) made sure he sees and hears nothing offensive, inappropriate or impressive; the mask does the same for smells of the city and its people. Harry was now without blinders and sans mask; the effect was almost overwhelming, causing him to catch his breath often.

"Close your mouth, Harry," Desiree said. "You'll catch flies."

_Wouldn't want you to get sick, would we? Some people think you're pretty important to us._ Even so, she had trouble imagining this pitiful Bio specimen becoming their leader. Somehow his lack of exceptional qualities had made him the perfect candidate, a person most acceptable to all and the least offensive, a true politician. An idea, in her opinion, so preposterous it just might work. She shrugged the idea off mentally, smiled and winked at Harry who blushed as soon as she turned his way.

Besides, there is the Evangel prophecy...

"Why did you want me to leave Cyber Match Central with you?" he asked meekly. He had wanted to know that from her very first enticement.

"I have my reasons. Good reasons. You'll see." She almost laughed at his naiveté. Although there was no escaping the fact that if she had told him the truth, he would have found it too fantastic a story to believe.

"Are you one of the Shadow People I've heard about?"

She laughed. "No. What made you say that?"

"As a child, I was always told that there were those who lived hiding in the shadows of the city, waiting to..."

"You're kidding? Waiting to what?"

"You know, uh, drink your blood, dismember you...that sort of thing." _Pretty chilling to hear as a child,_ he considered. _Scary still as an adult._

The look on his face was so deadly serious and framed in innocence; it almost made her laugh aloud.

"Have you never seen one?"

Harry shook his head. _Maybe._

"If they exist, I haven't seen them," she lied. _No point in telling him too much_.

"You can't see them," Harry insisted. "They live in the shadows. Dark Shadows of night."

"And you think I'm one of them?" Now, she pretended to be a bit indignant and more forceful in her reply. "Do you think I look like one of them?"

"Well, no...maybe," he stammered and she smiled. "I don't know anything about being Outside," he said regaining his composure. "I only know what Makr tells me about it."

"Yes, I know. We'll try to fix that."

"What?"

"Never mind. Walk," she ordered amiably and pushed him ahead of her.

_Just how much should I tell this guy? The council said, "Nothing, that is for us to decide."_ _After all, they are the visionaries. They are the ones who see Harry's immediate importance to the movement. There's always something they aren't telling_.

# CHAPTER TWELVE

_"There is more to life than increasing its speed."_ **\- Mohandas K. Gandhi**

"You're pretty safe out here as long as you don't make contact with Cyber. Or anything Cyber touch. Once you've done that, the cyberts are all alerted to report your presence. Before you know it you have a Cyber security death squad coming after you. They're worse than any of the Shadow People, believe me."

"A death squad!"

"That's the polite way of putting it. For a while, they just interrogate you after your SensaVision link is disabled. If that doesn't make you give up your friends, they take you to the next step. That's where they take the incorrigibles, the troublemakers who are upsetting this fine social experiment called PerSoc."

"Where?"

"I thought I was smart, too, playing the percentages. I told myself I could handle the cyberts Outside. After all, I was reasonably bright Bio and Cyber savvy, you know—Cyber smart. When you're a rogue, a roamer—that's what Makr calls you when you live free in the City—you're reasonably safe until there's direct contact. As long as you don't directly interfere with His efficient operation, no problem, but if you do..."

"Isolation Cell?"

She looked at him, puzzled, wondering how he knows, and nodded.

"I actually don't know why I know that."

"Right. Cyberts put you in—and not gently. I'd rather not talk about it..."

Harry was aghast. "You mean, you were in one? Were you really?"

She nodded and studied his face. _Not adventurous. Curious though. That's something._

"Did you bring someone from Inside...like me?"

_He's quick_. Her face was immobile. "He wouldn't listen. Stubborn. He was convinced he could talk his way out of anything with the Cyber security, too. We both learned. I lived. He didn't. Cyber security had instructions to interrogate. Believe me, finesse is a Bio quality."

"How?"

"Well, Cyber aren't allowed to physically torture us. Don't really know why. Could be it goes back to a hidden instruction in the original Program; thank the _true_ Makr for that. But they can torture us mentally. You know what I mean?"

Harry did. "Bad experience?"

"Yeah, pretty bad. I had plenty of information that would help them clear up the Bio "infestation," as they call it, Outside when they caught me."

"What happened?"

"Nothing at first really. I wouldn't volunteer anything. That's when they put me in the cell. They'd get all the information that way. Everything in my brain."

"That sounds awful."

"It is. I'll never forget what it looked like, or the feeling."

"What did you do to deserve a fate so terrible?"

"I extracted someone—from Cyber Match Central as I did with you."

"They didn't hurt you?"

"No, but they killed who I was. If they beat you physically, it would be better. Instead they wipe your mind clean. They make you do it to yourself. Total immersion in Self. No contact with sensations of any kind—not even gravity. The thoughts are totally your own, but suddenly there's no selective memory, no editing the bad experiences, disappointments or fears, and no dreams. No illusions or healthy delusions."

"Delusions?"

"Ever tell yourself a lie like how smart or strong or how important you think you are—especially when you don't feel like it? Some call it ego."

"I suppose so."

"Everyone does. It's not healthy for us to be negative about ourselves—even when it's true. It's not good for our psyche. Those delusions are key defense mechanisms."

"I never thought of it that way."

"Most people don't think about it at all. That's why people are so accepting of SensaVision illusions."

"I'm trying hard not to be."

"Good for you. If you were too accepting of Makr's reality you wouldn't be here."

"You mean I'd be safe Inside." This made her smile. "But, why are we so vulnerable to Makr's will?"

"Well, we asked for it, didn't we? Makr just takes our weaknesses and applies them to a Cyber advantage. One of the reasons Bios naturally don't remember every piece of information, every emotion or every sensation we ever felt, is that we have limited capacity to relate what's there in our brain. We can't process it all. If we try, we'll lose our minds. When that happens, Makr recycles the data supplied by our memories—our minds, or what's left of them."

"How? Why?"

"How? I don't know how exactly. That's science and technology. I'm not even sure I know the difference between the two. All I know is they begin by sealing you in a skin-like cocoon that lets your body breathe, but stops you from feeling anything. It's so much like real skin, your body doesn't know it isn't. Even your mouth and nose are covered, but oxygen still reaches your brain and other vital organs. All external sensation is blocked so all that's left to experience is your mind to the fullest with no protection."

She stopped talking and walking abruptly, took a couple deep breaths, and then began again, as if just talking about the subject took her own breath away.

"Then they immerse your body in a gelatinous substance in the cell. That's how they drain your identity, your life."

Telling this tale was hard for her, harder than she had imagined. Too recently close to home. Re-telling it made her re-live the mental anguish.

"Why did Makr do this to you?"

"For the information in my brain, I suppose? I'm not sure. I don't know how long I was in the cell. Time is irrelevant, too, but I was in that cell long enough to learn how hard it is to think without SensaVision. No thoughts are shielded. Somehow the gel blocks our natural inhibitors. Conscious, unconscious and subconscious minds combine—collide really. No subconscious urges to suppress. No defense mechanisms. You begin to think. Everything is crystal clear at first, everything in your biosystem is comprehensible, then the thoughts build in volume and frequency until your mind seems to cave in on itself.

"I knew I was going down fast. My head was spinning and splitting with pain. I could hear my internal organs working—and not just my heart that seemed to be pounding in concert with the throbbing in my head. I could hear my liver, kidneys, and pancreas—digestive, respiratory and lymphatic systems sifting nutrients and chemicals, separating what's good for the body from what's bad, making the electro-chemical changes..."

"Once you get over the physical eavesdropping, your mind seems incredibly clear. The experience is actually pleasant at first. Exciting even. Then the fireworks begin. Downloads of information. So much information you can't..."

She saw the incredulous look on Harry's face...

"The last thing I remember is having the worst headache I ever thought possible. I couldn't stop the thoughts from coming in all at once.

"Then, there was an explosion, a big one that ripped out most of the back wall. The explosion also broke the vat...and someone...I don't know who...ripped open the inner cocoon of my vat. I was unconscious, but if this person hadn't been there I would have suffocated from my own thoughts to be sure.

"My friend from Inside wasn't so lucky. He couldn't take it. He was dead within minutes of floating in that gel. I heard him scream. I think his mind burst—if that's possible. All that energy..."

Harry was quiet now. He had heard of these centers. Makr made them seem different somehow--called them Reconditioning Centers. If what Desiree said was true, then his worst nightmare could be waiting around the corner. _In fact, this could have already happened to me in the past, I just don't remember it. It would explain my memory gap._ He shook off the negative feelings that were of no value now.

"Are you alright now?" he asked.

"Sure, fine. Oh, you mean did it wreck my mind?" She laughed. "Probably, but can't undo it." She winked, "Self-deprecating humor is also a defense mechanism."

Harry's blank look tells her he doesn't get the joke or the wink so she continued her monologue, "Best I can tell...I have lost some memories—lots of memories actually. No point worrying now. Can't get them back. Yeah, I'm sure Makr got all the answers directly from my mind."

"I had no idea..."

"I gave away friends to Makr's Cyber security goons."

"You didn't do that. Makr did."

"Look, what happened to me is sad. I got over it, and you shouldn't worry it. If you want to survive Outside, you can't trust the Cyber, and there are damn few humans, Bios, as you call them, who you can trust."

.

She heard a sound! Her ears seem to perk up as the tiny hairs rose up on the back of neck, her eyes intense, and her muscles taut. Adrenaline rush! A barely audible buzzing sound. At first, she thought it's just a street cleaner cybert going about its business of ridding the streets of unwanted debris that could adversely affect cybert operations, nothing more.

She is wrong. While Harry was totally unaware of the threat, she's used to listening for any change in her environment. Anything overlooked means death or worse out here. It is a good thing Harry didn't know all that was going on.

The buzzing grew louder. Harry was startled at first when he finally heard it. It was not a sound he would have heard normally Inside. He knew this sound though! He remembered seeing bees and locusts in his vid collection of ancient movies. In the vids, people were attacked and terrified by insects. Intellectually he knew there was a positive side to these insects, but this was not the time to look for the balance in nature. Instead he focused on the sounds he was hearing to be sure they were truly bees.

If they were truly bees, their wrath seemed to be focused on the two travelers, flying at their faces from time to time. As the chorus cacophony became louder, the swarm's harassment increased in kind. While Desiree accepted these bees as a part of nature something strange was happening to Harry. For him, the convincing natural music took on a surreal quality, losing its buzz and replaced it with the sound of vibrating violin string blades. _The natural music became unreal, too,_ Harry thought, _and familiar._ He'd heard this music before in his collection. _"The Flight of the Bumble Bee?"_

Makr was telling him the bees weren't real. Why?

True bees were thought to be extinct. Harry knew that they had become extinct in the last few decades when the Bio-polluted atmosphere prevented many flowering plants from attracting their biggest pollinator—bees. Eventually, the flowers adapted, producing an even stronger fragrance, but not soon enough. Both the flora and insects died out, but flowers weren't the problem now.

Harry thought, _maybe they'd bounced back. It happened before when a species was thought to be wiped out was not outside reality. It only takes a few hardy individuals re-start the population. There could have been some hardy individuals that survived. Like Desiree, he smiled. But something is definitely not right with these bees. If they aren't real, they are a big threat!_

The symphony crescendos and the swarm of bees dart in and out, continued assailing the two Bios; some harassed and retreated, while others seemed to be hovering just slightly out of reach.

"Bees!" Harry picked up his pace. "Very large bees."

"I can see that!" Desiree snapped back as she bats as many away from her as she can. "What do they want? Why are they following us?" She increased the speed of her gait while thrashing her arms about to keep them at a safe distance.

"I don't know," Harry said, taking her cue and flailing his arms as well. "Wait a minute..." His thought-blink confirmed what he already knew. They weren't bees at all, but tiny flying cyberts! "Makr knows we're here."

"How do you know that, Harry? Have you seen these before?"

"No, but I can see them as they really are. What do you see?"

"I see what you see!" With a wide-eyed, puzzled look, she answers him as she keeps trying to wave the bees away! "Bees!"

"Not bees! Not bees! Cyberts! Tiny cyberts!" Harry froze, powerless to wave or slap at the tiny attackers now that he saw them as flying metal insects. Something held him back. Fear. Sadness. He stopped thought-blinking and saw bees again. Bio bees. He could swing at them now, even batted a few to the ground. They kept bouncing back after he knocked them to the ground. The few that fell were stunned and seconds later crept away unhurt and unnoticed.

"Whatever you're doing, Harry, is working." Desiree was gaining respect for this ordinary Bio as he kept battling the swarm of "bees" to the ground. Together, they pelted the bees with their hands, slamming them hard to the ground. More were staying on the ground while others keep flying back at them.

"Gotcha!" Harry exclaimed as he knocked two at once to the ground. As he tried to step on them, they suddenly became metal again. He froze again, unable to crush them under his feet.

A flicker of bright light, a low audible roar and both Harry and Desiree sensed the ground shake. Harry saw his picture of the world change slightly for an instant; for a second, he saw a dreary gray reality in his mind's eye. It left him feeling uneasy. He was positive Desiree had not noticed it. Why didn't she notice the shaking, the shudder of their reality? Makr!

The cyberts were bees again. While they were bees, he was happy he was able to knock them down; however, this time, he didn't dare try to crush them. Some of the bees appeared dead on the ground. At that moment, the rest of the swarm shifted position, moving up and away from them as if withdrawing. The swarm hovered for a moment as if to take one last look before heading away from the duo to the north across the city skyline. Neither Harry nor Desiree saw two of the "bees" that had fallen to the ground and were pretending to be immobilized. These "bees" waited for Harry and Desiree to continue their journey before they flew upward and followed them, staying several yards behind.

While it wasn't the "Attack of the Killer Bees" that bothered Harry so much, it was the fact that he was powerless to fight them as cyberts—tiny or otherwise, and yet he could fight them if he saw them as Bio creatures. Does that mean he was capable of destroying his fellow man—or woman and not a machine? Not even a toaster. The idea is preposterous but the evidence was overwhelming. Rather than sounding foolish he decided not to share this insight with Desiree. She might send him back Inside and he wasn't ready for that yet. Not even if he was one of Makr's pawns.

.

Harry's orientation to life Outside continued as she explained her theories about Bio survival.

"Makr sees us as biological machines that can procreate without outside materials. That's about the only advantage to being Bio that Makr sees. Cyber can't just plant a seed and make a baby. Even that comes with a price. While Bios take years to become useful, Makr can manipulate our behaviors faster and easier than creating another cybert. That means shop time, Cyber hours, before you get a fully functional machine. Other than that, cyberts are superior—smarter, stronger, more knowledgeable, and efficient. Makr gave us the name _Bios_ ; we didn't give it to ourselves. Using His definition, we became part of his cluster of machines; less efficient, more vulnerable, but necessary to help perpetuate Cyber existence for the time being."

"So why am I here?" Harry asked.

"It's complicated. I don't know for sure. Most of the Bios I 'gather' have information we need to do what we have to do."

"So, what is it you have to do?"

"Change the world," she said rather matter-of-factly.

He started to laugh but Desiree's unmovable features tell him she's utterly serious.

"What? I mean, how?" He was filled with curiosity, fear and awe all rolled into one.

Trying to change this almost perfect world into something with less Makr control was outrageous, still...he had to ask, "How much do you intend to change it—the world that is?"

"We'll need to control all the Cyber." She paused for effect and then she added, "Control, not destroy."

"Why? If you change the world, won't that also destroy the peace and safety we enjoy now?" _That sounds programmed,_ Harry thought, and she's right.

"Interesting choice of a word: 'enjoy.' Do you 'enjoy' your life, Harry?"

"Yes." Pause. "I...I don't know. Maybe. Not exactly, but I have a feeling what you're talking about can get you reconditioned."

Harry recognized the danger of his own words. He practically screeches when he realized she and her people weren't just _talking_ about anarchy.

"That's treason! That's criminal!"

"Exactly. I've already been there. Remember? Besides, it's no more criminal than you being here, Harry. It's only treason if you're on the side that loses. We aren't going to destroy without building. Which side are you on, Harry? Are you a destroyer or builder?"

Silence.

"We are the builders, Harry. We don't make war. You'll see that when we get to where we're going. We are learning everything we can about the world before Makr. As an amateur historian, you ought to be able to appreciate the significance of studying the past."

Harry didn't really consider himself an amateur historian. But how did she know enough about him to even call him one? The label seemed to fit but with two major differences: the historians he knew told Makr's version of the truth. And he was fairly certain they couldn't thoughtblink.

Desiree drank in Harry's reaction. That's the hook. Mission accomplished. She had achieved the necessary shock value.

"We're hoping you'll become one of us."

He stared at her in disbelief. He had only been Outside for a couple hours! He's already trapped in the middle of a revolution!

"Don't worry," she laughed. "You can say, 'no.' You don't know enough to hurt anyone..." Her smile broadened as she finished, "...but yourself."

No answer came from Harry. He is obviously was not the least bit amused by the irony of his rebellious youth in conflict with his adult present.

"You can leave any time you like," she said, throwing up her hands. "You can go home now if you wish. Go home, Harry! We'll muddle through this revolution without you...somehow." Her smile was gone.

He stopped abruptly in his tracks. Desiree turned slightly, and waved more dismissively than a farewell.

Harry looked around without his blinders on truly for the first time, although in reality he had not had them on the entire time. He felt abandoned in the shadows of a world he didn't understand at all, and it was dark...darker than he had ever seen it. Ironically, this was the world he had yearned for—where reality is truth.

"Wait!" He called after Desiree who had just rounded a corner and disappeared. He was too late. Stunned, he sat on the ground path where he had been walking, puts his head in his hands, his elbows on his knees, and tries to think of a way out. How could he be so stupid? He should have stayed at home. Not sneak out to hide in the shadows. _I'm not one of them! Take me home, Makr! Take me home!_

He was alone...truly alone. His blood pressure was rising. He nearly retched as he felt his stomach in his throat. He reached for the blinders he usually kept on his belt. They weren't there! She must have taken them. The blinders! Where are they? Gone! No SensaVision. No escape. Alone! A hand touched his shoulder.

"Aieee!" He jumped up so quickly he nearly fainted as the blood rushed from his head, his breathing so rapid he can barely stand it.

"Hey, hey, hey, take it easy. I'm not the enemy here. You said 'wait' so here I am."

He was glad...in a way. She smiled and took his hand. Something about the smile melted all apprehension. He had to stick it out—revolution or not.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN

_"The human race's prospects of survival were considerably better when we were defenceless against tigers than they are today when we have become defenceless against ourselves."_ **\- Arnold Toynbee**

Never having been face-to-face with such a vision of non-Cyber-generated loveliness, a person so different from himself, Harry was confused. These feelings of longing and sexual desire were new to him. He knew Makr, too, had problems identifying the "physical chemistry" that led Bios to sexual arousal--the unexplainable giddiness at the sight, sound and touch of another human being. Makr was forever asking Harry why Bios became attached to another Bio and what drew them to each other.

Harry was experiencing all of the above for the first time in his life. Somehow it was different than the dating centers, where you were matched and authorized a date. He could tell Makr what it felt like now but not why he felt the way he did. _This is better than pheromones,_ he thought, and recalled his experience with the cyberbiotherapist program and the subliminally suggested effects of pheromones.

In all of it, in explaining Bio behavior to Makr and in learning about himself, he had the feeling he had been tackling something far bigger than one Bio could hope to do by himself; he had tried to make his complicated reality simple when it was really simply complicated—as all behavior is.

"Have you been doing this long?" Harry mumbled shyly, still not used to engaging in conversations with unmatched strangers—rebels or otherwise.

"Almost a year." Desiree was amused at Harry's awkward attempt at making conversation, and remarked, "You know, Harry. It takes great courage to walk away from convention. I know that talking to strangers is difficult at first, but you will become more comfortable the more you do it."

"You mean there will be others where we're going?"

Desiree laughed heartily. "It's a party, Harry, and parties have to have people or they aren't parties."

_Harry is very nervous now_. _Odd, he asked so many questions and offered opinions on how everyone should work together. He seemed okay with me at first, even somewhat comfortable, but when the prospect of being face-to-face with so many strangers, he's afraid, almost panicked by the thought of it. He isn't ready for that experience. This is not a good thing._

Meanwhile Harry was comparing his own idea of what a party is and what this party may be in reality. A meeting of rebels, dissenters at best. Criminals nonetheless. Bio parties of any kind are a big deal Inside. With a multitude of intricate details and levels of contact probabilities, parties took days or weeks for the Makr to arrange and approve. Each guest had to be matched to every other guest—and that took huge amounts of Cyber memory and time. The party companions had to be compatible in every way.

Harry's agitation showed as his eyes darted about and he seemed visibly shaken.

"Of course, there'll be others, Silly," she said. "Did you think I dragged you out of Cyber Match Central to be alone with you like a 'match'?"

"No," Harry lied. Still drawn to Desiree physically, he was not even sure if he was disappointed. _There are bigger things_ , he admitted to himself. "I came of my own free will," he said, his voice quivering. He wasn't sure why, but he wanted to understand this Outside world—as risky as that may be.

She started to say, "Since when did free will exist Inside?" but thought better of it. Instead she smiled that mischievous one-dimpled smile of hers.

"Yes, I know," she said reassuringly, and gently took his hand in hers to continue their journey. Harry flinched and stiffened a bit as her hot, moist skin touched his, but seconds later settled down and allowed her to lead him.

Her touch made his whole body warm and tingly for a few wonderful seconds. Walking along, he soon became desensitized to the touch of a stranger—this rebel stranger. In the time it took to meander their way surreptitiously to the meeting place, he had begun to enjoy the experience as they walked along.

Desiree's experience was fraught with misgivings. Although she liked Harry, she couldn't help raising an eyebrow and rolling her eyes at the thought that he could become their fearless leader, their messiah. _He's nice enough, but odd. Very odd. Does he know he is not the stranger here? Doubtful. It appears we know more about him than he knows himself? Not good._

.

As they continued their journey, Desiree searched her limited Bio mind for answers herself then turned to Harry.

"You knew the 'bees' weren't real, didn't you?"

"I said they weren't bees but you didn't believe me."

"I believe you now. How did you know?"

Harry was silent. Even after all they had been through together, he wasn't sure he could trust her or anyone Outside yet. Inside he could trust no one.

"My people tell me you have a gift. Can you really see the truth? Do you see what's real? That's your gift, isn't it?"

"I don't know. Sometimes I see things. I think it's the truth," he said, eyeing her guardedly. "It's more like I don't see the illusion." He turned away from her, uncomfortable talking about thought-blinking. He had never told anyone before.

"I don't believe it! You're afraid of me, is that it? Why are you so afraid of me, Harry?"

"Not afraid exactly. I'm new out here. I can't trust anything that's happening now. Or anyone. Do you blame me? You said that yourself. What if Makr is laying a trap for me? I could be home, and this is all His doing. I don't know if this is real or a dream."

"When I said 'Don't trust anyone,' I didn't mean me." Desiree was getting angry and frustrated with this wimpy Insider stranger. "You can't be afraid out here, Harry. At least, you can't show it. Cyber and Bio predators alike out here count on fear to put you at a disadvantage and give them the upper hand. Power is survival. Now, I'll admit that you've come a long way, but do you mind telling me how you are going to save the world when you are afraid of your own shadow out here?"

"I never said I could save you...or the world. Never!"

"Easy, boy. Take it easy."

A bit defensive, but at least he doesn't seem fearful anymore. Better angry than afraid.

"I can't seem to be able to save myself. I raise a hand against a cybert and I can't move. Nothing happens. That's what happened back there with the bees. When I saw them as cyberts, I was incapable of dealing with them. When I let my guard down and let their SensaVision illusions wash over me, I could knock 'em down because they appeared to be Bio. If you ask me, the fact I can harm Bio-creatures and not Cyber-creatures is scary enough. Who cares if I can see reality?"

"Yeah, that is pretty scary, but you've got _me_ worried that you _can_ see reality."

"I don't understand. You see reality out here all the time."

"We don't need your ability to see reality; we need your ability to understand and see Makr."

"Makr? Out here?"

"Makr's everywhere. Didn't you know?" She smiled. "His cyberts, of course," she continued. "I think Makr could easily take control of our reality Outside, but we're too insignificant for Him to deal with personally."

Harry was startled. "I thought Makr is only Inside. Or, when you wear blinders."

"It's complicated."

Complicated made sense to Harry who saw Makr or His SensaVision influence in his dreams.

"I...I see Makr at work."

"You also see him in your dreams."

"I have fears."

"We all have fears, Harry."

"Do you think you're a machine?" he blurted out.

She stopped, looked Harry up and down, then pinched his arm.

"Ow! What was that for?"

"Human," she declared.

"Well, I think I'm not...in my dreams. I feel pain for machines. When I fight the feelings I feel as though I'm hurting myself, killing myself. These fears are based on what I know, or what I'm told to believe. Maybe if you or your people can tell me what I don't know, I won't have anything to be afraid of anymore."

"Harry Bolls that is the most reasonable thing I've heard you say."

Her sincere smile assuaged his guilty fears for the moment, but he still had some nagging questions.

Harry was deep in thought as they continued their journey. _Did the bees carry their own SensaVision? It is possible?_ He wasn't sure Makr wasn't there as Desiree has said. _Makr doesn't let Bios torture themselves, does He? SensaVision takes care of that then, doesn't it? It is automatic for Bios Inside. Why am I different? That is the real question._

"We're almost there," Desiree was smiling another of her disarming smiles. He was torn. He wanted desperately to believe her. That he was safe and all would be well.

She had smiled at him at Cyber-Match-Central, too, but then, it had seemed a hungrier smile. As if a tigress could smile before she devoured her prey!

The Council was right about one thing. Harry did face his fear. He did not die today—which was a good thing. He came a long way in one short evening—for an Insider.

# CHAPTER FOURTEEN

_"All models are wrong; some models are useful."_ **\- George Box**

Between the buildings, a Shadow moved silently out of the darkened recesses of a building. A faceless one with eyes hidden behind a stealthy cloak was watching the pair as they travel through the city.

Not even Desiree, who had made the trip many times before, suspected another Bio presence. In spite of that, she knew to move quickly and not dawdle. _Something is not right,_ she thought. _Perhaps it's just a bad feeling._ All the same, she felt she had to get out of this quadrant.

Harry, on the other hand, entranced and mystified by the myriad of images, sounds, and smells, was to be enjoying himself. Probably for the first time in his life. _This life,_ he reminded himself.

"How are you feeling, Harry?"

"Giddy. Nervous. A little afraid, I think."

"What are you afraid of exactly?"

"I just have a feeling. Being out here in the real world is wonderful and scary at the same time." _The city lives_ , he thought. _Probably not like it "lived" in the past when people crowded the sidewalks and cars jammed the streets. It had a rhythm then. Maybe there is still a rhythm and a character to it. Deeper within_ _where the others are,_ he pondered. He didn't know how right he was.

Desiree smiled, pleased with herself. Her mission was almost complete. He was here now and relatively numb to everything Outside. _If he is as special as they said, maybe he is right. All he needs is knowledge of her world, the Outside world, to make him the hero they need._

She looked over at Harry. Something was not right. Maybe nothing to do with Harry. But something in her gut made her nervous. The bad feeling was back.

Suddenly, she turned around in time to see a single "bee" flying after them. As soon as Desiree caught a glimpse of it, the bee darted into the shadows. There's something else there! The shadow moved!

"Shit! Shit! Shit! Let's get out of here! Move it!" She grabbed Harry and thrust him ahead of her, propelling him into a dark alleyway.

"What's wrong?"

"I don't know." She said, peering over her shoulders and kept pushing him ahead at a quicker pace. "I saw something. On second thought, forget what I said. Don't trust anyone, period."

Harry looked at her quizzically.

"Let's just say I don't know any natural shadows that move like that."

Desiree picked up the pace. Like a child being pulled to keep up with her parent, Harry resisted.

"Hey, not so fast. What's going on now?"

His protestations finally made her stop.

"We really need to go now. Now is not the time to get brave on me. I'll explain later, okay?"

"Okay."

"You don't know about the danger, the real danger, do you? Danger from other Outsiders, Harry?" _His ignorance is unbelievable!_ "Are there no dangers where you come from?"

"Only a couple I can think of. Only total domination and being bored to death."

_Good one, Harry_. She smiled, but looked around just the same. _No unusual shadows. But "all clear" doesn't always mean "all clear." No point in scaring the guy. If someone or something is out there and is set on hurting us, there is nothing we can do now._

"Tell you what. I'll talk if we can walk quickly at the same time." And, with that she prodded and pushed him forward again, gently now. She darted a casual look back to make sure they weren't being followed this time.

"First, we aren't Shadow People. Not to disappoint you, but not everyone out here fits that description," she asserted with a bit of a snicker. "There are all sorts of people out here. Some good. Some bad. My people...we call ourselves Touchables. We're the good guys."

She seemed distracted to Harry, constantly looking back into the Shadow as if trying to see something.

"I told you we need to change our world and we may have to control the Cyber, but I didn't tell you why. It's simple really. We want to live on our own— _with_ or _without_ Makr. It doesn't matter which. We want it to be our choice."

"Touchables?"

"We're learning about the past, our past, and while we're at it, trying to enjoy life. We want to "touch" it, Harry, hence the name," she answers. "Although some more than others," she mutters under her breath, then out loud to Harry. "We're not a people for you to worry about. Trust me."

Harry was silent.

Desiree smiled, "Being a Touchable is a good thing, you'll see."

"I have to trust you, don't I."

"No. You can find your way home alone, wandering the streets Outside without blinders on and explain to Makr why you shouldn't be erased. Good luck."

Harry could taste her bitter sarcasm. "If you don't mind, I'll stay. Maybe I can learn something."

Desiree's smile was not totally unsympathetic.

"Look, I'm here because someone I respect very much seems to think you can help us," she said impatiently. "I can't tell you everything. Some things you'll just have to learn for yourself. The true dangers out here are not what you think. In fact, they're worse. Scarier, meaner...you pick."

Harry looked even more nervous so she continued, "And those are just the things you can see for yourself. Hell, my people don't even tell _me_ everything."

She was right. He can see it for himself by thought-blinking. Admittedly he hadn't been forthcoming with that knowledge. What could these "Touchables" possibly want with his thought-blinking? It's not like he could give it away. Besides, he had his own demons to wrestle. So far, he'd only found thought-blinking lately to result in lots of pain he rather not go through again.

Desiree heard a faint click.

"Down!" she screamed. The sky exploded with a blinding light and a deafening roar. She grabbed Harry and pulled him down, covering his body with hers as tiny particles shredded the clothes covering her back with stinging, searing, pain. Because they were locked together, the shock wave shoved 20 yards. Now, in addition to the minor lacerations, both are bruised and scraped.

Harry ended up lying on top of her, face-to face, with a childlike helplessness at this moment as he found himself in a most intimate of sexual positions.

"Are you all right, Harry?" she asked evenly while still on the bottom.

"Fine. You?"

"A few bruises and scratches."

"Makes me feel truly alive. Real pain."

"Good for you," she rolled her eyes and grunted. "You can get up now, Harry," she said as nudged him in the side with a knuckle. "It's over."

Embarrassed by his sudden physical arousal, he nervously slid off of her but stayed somewhat glued to the ground face down for a minute.

"What was that?" he asked, breathlessly.

"I'm not sure."

"Are you all right?"

She knew her back probably looked like raw meat beneath her tattered clothing but she didn't want Harry to know. That could only serve to increase his fears at a time when she needed him to be confident and brave.

"Feels like I've been run over by a street cleaner," she said.

"What?"

"Funny little cyberts—kinda cute actually—clean the streets of debris. Seems not all cyberts are agile enough to dodge a little trash."

Harry eyed her curiously.

"They're harmless, Harry. Primitive communication capability. Local only. No danger if you stay out of its way."

"Are you hurt?"

"A few bruises, scrapes, cuts. You?" She faced him to hide her back.

"Same. Sore."

As they stood to brush themselves off, Desiree looked in the direction of the blast to survey the damage. Buildings looked intact. Harry seemed intact as well. Her back stung and burned from the blast, but she'd get something for it at the meeting place.

"Shock grenade, I think," she said. "I've heard they stop cyberts for quite a radius. Means Shadows..."

Without warning, a Shadow separated from the darkness and moved into the light. He held two heads—small but once deadly cybert heads—in one hand aloft, his cloth-covered fingers in holes that resembled an eye socket in each head. With the other hand he tossed his hood back exposing his face and grinned. He was a handsome dark-skinned Bio, with dark gentle eyes and a wide grin that seems to say he was no threat. He held up the cybert heads as if proclaiming victory, or some kind of peace offering, then, without a word, he placed them in a bag made out of the same coarse fabric as the rest of his garb. He reached inside his cloak to retrieve something. He tossed a small object at them. It clattered to the ground. A small cybert shaped roughly like that of an insect—a bee. The gesture, simple as it was, exclaimed, "Watch your back. Makr knows."

Then he was gone.

"That...Sha...Sha...Shadow?"

Harry couldn't help the stammer. He saw the Shadow change into a man and then become the Shadow again. He couldn't look, couldn't face whatever it was. Now the horror and pain of his childhood past—or lack of it—swept over him. Desperately, he tried to shut out the noise—the taunting chant—the memories so indelibly inked in his mind.

Boogeymen! Boogeymen! Going to eat you up! Ha...Ha...Ha...Ha...Ha...

Mentally, Harry covered his ears shouting, "Makr take them away! Take them away!" In real-time, he stared off in space and he couldn't see. He closed his eyes, hoping when he opened them, the nightmare would be over.

"Harry, Harry?"

He opened his eyes and Desiree was there looking into them.

"The Shadow...the man?"

"One of 'your' Shadows."

"Mine?"

She nodded, "Is a man. A Bio. One of the myths you were taught as a kid. I've heard other Insiders talk of the same thing. The Shadows, they're outcasts like us, but much more a threat to Makr than we are."

"The images are so terrifying...Makr's images so near."

"Naturally."

"At Cyber Match Central?"

"Other Bios just like you." She shook her head. "You scare yourselves with each other. You really ought to get a grip."

"Feels...as though Death is around the corner."

"Look. Would you expect the Master of Illusion to be anything less than incredibly realistic? It would have to be to affect Bio behavior. Something they will remember with no question. Some have said Makr wants us all to stay Inside or keep blinders on. Fear's a good way to keep us there. Anyway most Insiders don't have to wear blinders anymore. Not since the latest chip upgrade."

"I thought I was the only one who had that Shadow dream." He was relieved in a perverse sort of way that he wasn't alone, that someone else could have the same dreams.

"It's a very large club, Harry."

"My Cyber psychotherapist never said anything about there being others. Others besides Shadow People, I mean."

"I doubt that is something Makr would want Insiders to know."

The revelation that his Cyber psychotherapist had lied to him didn't help his insecurity, nor did it alleviate his natural fear of the unknown; however, the excitement may have added a little fuel to his desire to know more.

Meanwhile, Desiree had a revelation of her own. He's been psychoanalyzed—and not just that— _Cyber psychoanalyzed_! Although the fact that Harry had spent a part of his adult life in therapy with a Cyber-psychologist program was not terribly reassuring, it did give her an opportunity to probe.

"Now that you faced one of your fears, how do you feel?"

"Okay, I guess. Confused."

"Don't worry. You really aren't alone. Don't worry, you'll get used to it."

"Why would Makr paint them so diabolical?"

"Who?"

"The Shadow People. Why would Makr want us that afraid of them?"

"To keep you away from them. But they actually do it to themselves. They are the one group that is totally intent on destroying the Cyber. Someone told me once that Shadows were actually a pretty small percentage of Outsider residents—so they are always recruiting. Other Outsiders are frightened of them, too."

"Why would He...?

"Fear factor, remember? And, to make sure the Shadow People can't recruit you - to compromise the efficiency of His cyberts."

"The Shadow People aren't bad?"

"I've not seen any face-to-face except this one, but I have heard there were a few Shadow groups who've help us with some things we wouldn't do ourselves. Can't blame them for some of their actions really. They're just trying to survive like the rest of us. But they are the most invisible and the most dangerous group of humans. Makr tries to keep them isolated, small in numbers to minimize the damage."

"How can you tell the good and the bad out here?"

"Can't really. We're alive, aren't we? Just the fact that we Touchables exist makes Shadow lives difficult. We can get in the way of their total destruction of Makr..."

Harry suddenly felt a stab to the heart at hearing "destruction of Makr."

"...Still, better to keep away from them. They're different from us, very different."

"How different? Like you and I, different?"

She shook her head. "Not like you and I."

"How?"

"Violent—much more violent. Touchables don't kill or destroy so publicly we reject what the Shadows do, although sometimes privately as fellow Bios we applaud the result. We just want a peaceful co-existence, while the Shadows are engaged in all-out war. As in all wars, there's collateral damage to the innocent. Maybe you can see why we don't welcome them to our homes."

"I don't understand."

"Shadows want to tear everything down, totally destroy all the machines."

She sounded quite sincere, but it is obvious to Harry she knew more than she was telling.

"They would make us start over with nothing," she maintained. "We would have no history, we'd lose our identity and become something else. Surely, Harry, you can relate to that?"

Another born-again reminder.

"They survive by scavenging and stealing the things they needed from the old buildings, abandoned sewers, and subway systems. They kill cyberts, now, but before that they also killed, Bios, anyone who got in their way. Some Shadows are little better than animals."

Harry reeled from a sudden pain in his skull. The pain seemed worse with each mention of cyberts being destroyed or damaged.

"A lot of cyberts?" he asked, wincing from the constant pain in his head. The pain increased until he could barely stand it without crying out. _Makr stop the pain! Please,_ he begged. The pain stopped.

Unaware of Harry's pain, Desiree continued describing her Bio competitors and survivors.

"They're so passionate in their cause that they don't care who else they hurt. If we happen to be too close to the explosions or the cyberts come to investigate and find our hiding places... They have a greater need for discipline; they're ruthless when it comes to punishing one of their own. Don't get in their way."

So that's it, she knew someone who died as a result of the Shadows. It's personal. It's the same for Harry who empathized with her pain as he vividly remembered his own. If anyone knew of painful memories, he did. But for whom was he feeling pain just now? Not Shadows, Touchables or anyone else biological. He felt pain for the Cyber! A feeling of loss. Deep sadness for Cyber that have been destroyed.

Why me? I'm flesh and blood. Not metal.

_Got to be fair,_ she thought. "This Shadow saved us," she said finally, "and for that I'm grateful, but I can't forgive the damage they've done already." _I don't need to give him an explanation_. _None of his business. Well, maybe it is—if he is who they think he is._

"Where do they come from? The Shadow People."

"Same place we all came from," she said.

# CHAPTER FIFTEEN

_"The world needs anger. The world often continues to allow evil because it isn't angry enough."_ **\- Author Unknown**

**"** Kieran, I want you to stay with Carlos. He needs a friend right now."

"Yes, Mother-General. I've already decided I would stay with him wherever he goes—if he'll have me."

"Aren't you bitter about what happened to your eyes?"

"I have eyes now. I can see."

"Yes, but these eyes don't have your usual sparkle, do they?"

"So they say. Things change. I'll be all right."

"Sure you will." There is bitterness in your voice, but I need you. "I know. For such a long time there it seemed there were no other Outsiders like us who are willing to fight for our freedom, no Touchables or Evangels to get in the way—just a few of us trying to wage a war against the Cyber. Our numbers are greater now, but I wonder if they're great enough to meet Makr's threat."

"We are fighting an invisible, evolving enemy. We've always needed your strength, Mother-General."

"Thank you for those kind words, my dear. Sometimes it is so hard to be a leader...and a mother. I worry about our people. I worry about my sons."

Kieran was puzzled. The Mother-General had two sons, and one is dead. Does she not accept his death?

"I have lived outside of Makr for more than 25 years. I bore three sons and a daughter. I gave up one son to his father and to Makr. I hope one day my other sons will come back to me. I let one die foolishly. I should never have let him fight." Her eyes glisten as she holds back the tears.

She said she had three sons? Where's the third? Never heard of the daughter either. Why the secrets? Don't push too hard Kieran, she tells herself.

"What happened to your daughter? I've never heard you speak of her before."

"I don't know. I sacrificed her to the cause as well."

But no information on that subject was forthcoming.

"Mother-General, you of all people know this is a fight for survival. We lose people every day. We have to keep fighting."

"I know, my child. I'm sure if I had my daughter here she would be very much like you."

"Thank you, Mother-General. That's very kind of you..."

"I'm not kind. I save the humans from Frankenstein's monster. I was there at the beginning, remember?" Pause. "You know, I had always hoped that you and Carlos...well, you know. I guess some things aren't meant to be—if you count on chance rather than Cyber matchmaking. You have been a good friend anyway and that's what he needs now. Someone to give him strength and confidence. Just between you and me, I was too hard on him. I know that now, but we can't waste time apologizing. He is where he's doing some good. I had planned for him to go there anyway. This just made it happen sooner. You know, sometimes I yearn for a normal life, but that isn't possible. There hasn't been a single normal life since the damn Matchmaker Cyber was created!"

Kieran didn't know what to say. She was born in the Shadows; it is the only life she had known. She put her hand on the Mother-General's shoulder. Not many have that privilege. She had it because she is a woman; she also had it because she was close to Carlos.

"I don't have the answers to life's mysteries. It is you who has known the paradise before."

"Believe me, dear, it wasn't paradise before, but the world belonged to us—not the Cyber. Go now, please. I've already said more than I should. You are my ears to Carlos. I want to know everything. I mean it, Kieran O'Shea. Everything."

"Don't you trust him?"

"Yes, but a mother needs to know her children are safe. I don't want him to know of this. I do want him to know his brother and sister when I find them again. Now, go! Please!"

There was still a question in Kieran's mind. _Where's the other son and daughter? Why so secretive, Mother-General?_

As Kieran closed the door behind her, the usually stern Mother-General buried her head in her hands and sobs in private. Someday, she thought, all my hopes and dreams will collide with the nightmare my husband conjured up.

# CHAPTER SIXTEEN

_"People would like to think that there's somebody up there who knows what he's doing. Since we don't participate, we don't control and we don't even think about questions of vital importance we hope somebody who has some competence is paying attention_." **\- Noam Chomsky**

The Watering Hole was a plain brown building weathered as usual for a building of its two or three hundred-year old years; its appearance held nothing to make it remarkable, causing it to blend in with its surroundings.

Desiree used her fingernails to drum on the ancient wooden door so softly it was barely audible. In that next instant when the proprietor of the underground speakeasy opened the door, he saw only Desiree. Harry had disappeared.

"Hi ya, Sam," said Harry's escort gaily. "I have someone I want you to meet."

Sam, a big burly man with fiercely ruddy cheeks, dark beady eyes, and hairy eyebrows joined together on a low furrowed brow that makes him look perpetually angry. That is—until he smiled. His square jaw made him look powerful, but his warm smile revealed his teddy bear demeanor. His grin was so wide it seemed to cover half his face.

"Oh, and where might he be, Darlin'?" His Cheshire grin seemed to grow beyond the bounds of his face.

Startled, Desiree looked to where she last saw Harry, surveys the immediate surrounding area, squinting as she peered into the Shadows. "Dammit!" she muttered under her breath so only Sam could hear.

"Harry? Harry, come out of there," she scolded sweetly. Then, softened her voice even more and almost pleadingly, "No one will hurt you—we're with friends now."

She smiled a gentle, caring smile and waited patiently for Harry as if he was the most important person in the world. At that moment he was truly significant. _The coward._

A deeper, more melodious voice came from the massive presence at the door.

"Welcome, Harry. You know, Harry, we've all been where you are. Once you face your fear, it takes only a minute or two to see the good."

There seemed to be a long silence as Harry took it all in. Threat assessment

"Trust me, Harry," the voice insisted. "It's a joyous occasion, and you're welcome."

Harry moved out of the Shadows hesitantly—just enough so he could see in the light. Seeing Sam the second time made him hide again back in the darkness outside.

"Ha...How...many...are...you?" Harry looked at Desiree, who isn't talking. Desiree is letting Harry face his fears.

"Thousands," Sam confided conspiratorially, bending towards Harry who jumped back. "but don't you worry. They're not all here," the burly man said, still grinning from ear-to-ear.

Desiree gave Sam a reprimanding look for his flippant answer.

"Jist about thirty or forty of us rebels here right now," he continued, trying to sound friendly and folksy. He grinned at Desiree and winked. He switched back to standard English. "C'mon in, Harry. Everything's going to be all right. Trust me."

Harry knew it is an historical fact that when someone says, "trust me"—don't. Even Desiree had said it. He knew better. For some unfathomable reason, Harry trusted Desiree who had inched her way to Harry and grabbed his arm. Holding his hand tightly like one holds a child's, she led him into The Watering Hole, which is really more of a ballroom. Harry will smile at this image later and use it in political speeches, but at the moment all he can do is resist mentally. _Like the horse being led to water, she can't make me drink_ , he thought, pulling out one of his historical trivia clichés.

Once inside, Harry found he was instantly and simultaneously, fascinated and repelled by what he saw. So overwhelmed he doesn't see individual faces; he sees a sea of people. He felt trapped, claustrophobic, and nauseous all at once. Fighting the sickness, he focused on the faces, which were each unique and individual.

However, he couldn't help feeling each one was a threat. To him. To Makr. To PerSoc. Sheer terror that was embedded in every Insider over the years under Makr's total influence. Until now, he had never even given a thought as to how hard it would be to break Makr's hold on the reality he thought was his own.

Inside of the building, Harry saw what must have been used in the old days as a warehouse or factory, now a gathering place for Touchables. There are high ceilings and very few walls to divide the huge space. The gargantuan entry area, in contrast to the building's darker bland exterior, is brightly lit and vibrant; it was obviously decorated by committee, with no central theme except everyone's best guess as to interior decorating. Who knew how to decorate for a group gathering? After all, decorating by changing perception rather than reality was a Makr specialty. The people here had furnished the huge space, haphazardly and eclectically, with whatever family treasured artifacts they could spare from their homes or salvage from the ruined buildings they discovered in the Outside reality. In essence, they had created an indoor village, a commune where they are free to explore and share experiences from the Outside.

For Harry the experience was over the top. It was a kaleidoscope of images, a dazzling array of colors, a joyous cacophony of sounds and a fiesta of aromas—all better than any SensaVision broadcast.

"Well? How do you like it?" Desiree asked Harry whose mouth is wide open again. "Harry!"

Harry froze in the doorway as people, sooo many people, appeared suddenly, standing or sitting up to see him. All were smiling; some are waving. All greeted him in some way. Harry swallowed and took a deep breath. He was determined not to hide, but sincerely wished he could will himself invisible. Fading into the woodwork was impossible.

Inside, even in his highly visible job in SensaVision, he had never had direct contact with any unsanctioned Bio until now; his only contacts other than Desiree had been blessed by Makr at Cyber Match Central. Now this!

Recalling his vid collection, he remembered the Hollywood stars and other celebrities who experienced an overwhelming amount of public contact, some of it good but most of it bad. Now, since public contact was monitored and regulated, there was no such thing as a celebrity by the ancient standards. That is unless one wanted it to be his or her fantasy, then SensaVision happened, but rarely since the results of stardom were so negative. Makr's SensaVision sterile hologram made Harry the closest thing to a celebrity Inside, but the images seen in homes are adjusted to suit the needs of individual viewers, adjusting his look, his voice, eliminating anything that could cause some kind of emotional response. The only difference was that he appeared so different to each individual; he would not be recognized in the flesh—except by Makr, of course.

Thrust into the center of attention, he knew now why SensaVision was safer. His audience was not usually within smelling distance, and the overwhelming bombardment of so many distinct odors made him swoon.

"Harry?"

"It's won...wond....wonderful," he stammered. "I...I...I...help," he pleaded with Desiree.

The entrance began to spin and turn on its axis as he was about to faint. Harry felt Desiree squeeze his hand and pull him further inside the ballroom as Sam went out behind the two guests. Sam checked the area for any clues the two may have been followed. He really didn't want to deal with uninvited cyberts. Upon seeing no threats, he went back in, shutting and locking the door behind him.

At first Harry's response was like a small, timid child. He hesitated and resisted slightly, and given encouragement knew he had to go through with it.

The first wave of greeters seemed normal—Insider normal and rather ordinary to him—like people he was often paired with at Cyber Match Central. Except these people all want to touch—to shake his hand! Some handshakes were firm, some limp, some dry, some wet, some soft, some hard; some people presented drooping appendages or vigorously pumped his arm. In any event, to each individual he met, Harry's handshake was just right. He had passed the first test. Then, all went black.

.

Bright light. Harry's unconscious body winced and squirmed until seconds later a light dimmed enough for him to see a faceless Bio looking down on him. Suddenly, the blank face took on asymmetrical features that were disjointed, unearthly, diabolical, and depraved. The face broke apart in geometric pieces, scattering to infinity. He thought he heard many people talking all at once. Listening intently, he tried to isolate a sentence or two but found it impossible. He was unable to decipher any of the gibberish although it resembled words and language. The gibberish lost its Bio quality and became a deafening horrific machine-made noise. As the noise became more organized, random sounds transform to become penetrating pulsating tones, dominating the less organized ambient noise, eliciting his deepest fears. The dreams were back!

But the expected didn't happen. Harry didn't know to be disappointed or fearful; then he noticed moisture—sweat leaving his body with fountain-like constancy and force. Then, he couldn't stop shivering.

"Harry! Harry! Harry, are you all right?"

Desiree?

He heard pleasant, serene music in the background—totally agreeable music like that created by the cyberserver to soothe Bio psyche. SensaVision was filled with it. He knew most Bio produced music contained individual emotions and moved people too much for their own good. Did it really, or was it just more Makr propaganda?

Thought-blink.

The music stopped while the voices continued.

"Everything's fine. Nothing to worry about." Then a sea of voices engulfed him; everyone in the room seemed to be talking at once.

Harry opened his eyes through a watery blur to see a ceiling of smiling faces set against the backdrop of bright lights. Sam had elevated his head and shoulders with a pillow while Desiree, who knelt beside him, held and patted his hand.

"A little too much openness," Sam said to Desiree.

"Ya think?" she remarked sarcastically and rhetorically.

Sam ignored her remark and looked at Harry to explain, "Our governing council of elders believes in total openness and hiding nothing from each other." Sam turned Harry's head slightly so he can see the elders who stand grouped together across the room. "Overstimulation."

"I noticed," Harry said looking away from the elders who are totally nude. He tried to look at Desiree with a look that said, "Why didn't you tell me?" The very attempt to focus on her caused him to suddenly feel nauseous. He commanded his brain to stop the queasiness and the spinning room, but it's not listening.

"It's simply our response to being confined and isolated," Sam continued to explain. "We tend to do the opposite of some accepted societal norms. Don't worry. You don't have to follow our example if you don't want to. We're all free here."

Sam put on a more serious face to show Harry he meant business.

"We develop in stages here. Some are comfortable in ten minutes, some take months, some never really are, but we all try. We have a lot of conditioning behind us to overcome."

"I...I heard music—SensaVision music."

"That's not possible here, is it?" Someone in crowd asked nervously. "If there's SensaVision, Makr knows," offered another Touchable. The talk of SensaVision agitated and stirred the crowd. Harry and Desiree heard murmurs and accusations. A woman pointed at Harry and shouted to the others, "He must have brought them!"

Desiree sensed the mounting tension of the mob now surrounding her. She knew the mob consisted of good people, nearly all her friends who were anxious to be free as well as safe. She also knew they could never be free if they were not safe. They could never go back Inside. Afraid, they should be, but she needed to do something. Harry needed her, too.

She faced her people, feigning a puzzled look at their mob-like behavior. Smiling, she took his hand again, and with his cooperation this time, pulled him to his feet. "You must have dreamed it, Silly," she said. "We don't allow that kind of thing in here. Only music we have we make ourselves."

She pointed to a group of people clutching instruments about fifty feet away. The instruments appeared to be blocking any attempt at familiarity or forward motion. Almost comically, those with large size instruments wielded them like shields or weapons. After Desiree signaled to the musicians to begin playing, the much relieved crowd hesitated with indecision and then dispersed to join their initial cliques.

"I guess you're right," Harry agreed. "I still don't understand how you can be here without Makr knowing about it."

"That's our little secret for now, Harry." She winked. She had already told him more than she should have, and someone might be listening.

Harry was used to not knowing everything, so little secrets didn't bother him. Instead he marveled at some of what Desiree has said. They make music themselves! For each other! The reason for it he didn't quite grasp. _Give it time, Harry_ , he told himself. _Give it time_. _It will all make sense soon._ He hoped so. Yet deep inside him, he wondered if all this was Makr's doing or if it was just another dream—albeit a more pleasant one than his usual? He had to admit that even though he passed out, the experience as a whole was exhilarating.

He tried to imagine himself on the SensaVision set, naturally sans human technicians. Envisioning it had a calming effect. Taking two deep breaths, he addressed all in the room:

"Ladies and Gentlemen, thanks for having me at this gathering. I hope you will forgive my initial awkwardness—and this spectacle." Grinning, he noticed several jaws drop as he continued, "And please, try remembering your first time. I'm looking forward to meeting each and every one of you."

He felt remarkably composed, which was evidenced by his measured response to the crowd. Either his SensaVision training had paid off or it was his natural charisma. Harry smiled and waved. How did he know what to do? Some people applauded. Both Sam and Desiree were amazed, but it is Desiree who gasped unexpectedly. _It is if Harry was meant to be here._

People continued to surround Harry the rest of the evening, some just shaking his hand and some trying their hand at small talk. Most of those guests wore clothing, but as the evening wore on Harry began mingling willingly and working the room, meeting everyone, even those not wearing clothes. It didn't take long for him to determine clothes don't make the man...or woman. This meeting people and having casual conversation is new and exciting, and Harry resolved not to miss a bit of it. This party—what could possibly be wrong with it as far as Makr is concerned? What harm could come from it?

For all his socializing this evening, he had Desiree on his mind. He looked for her in the crowd, but was unsuccessful. It was as though she wanted to get lost...somewhere away from Harry. Or, was it Harry she wanted to lose?

"Hello, Sir. How are you? Fine, I hope. Great weather, eh?" The man addressing Harry had nothing else to say. Just small talk. "How's the family?"

Harry grinned. He didn't have a family, but the man asking the question expected and wanted only one answer. Harry gave it to him.

"Fine, I hope. Yours?"

_Attaboy, Harry!_ Desiree thought. _The council may have been right after all. You are special._

Then she had her own reality moment _. What if he is a Makr spy? Maybe he isn't human, but Cyber. His sudden calmness would make sense._

# CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

_"Faith is believing what you know ain't so."_ **\- Mark Twain**

"How is he doing really?" asked Elder Barry. The chief council elder sat in the center position of the half-moon conference table in the next room.

"Fine. Fine. He's fitting in well...seems comfortable enough. Almost too well."

Desiree addressed all ten elders, six men and four women. The elders were not necessarily senior in years; they are senior in the cause. Elder Barry is in the thirty-something age group while the rest of the elders were either forty-something or younger. They were all nude. True believers.

"Do you see that as a problem?"

"Well, no. Not exactly. It's just..."

"You think he could be a spy?"

"It's possible."

"We're confident—and I speak for everyone here—that he's not. We have assurances."

_Whatever that means._ Desiree nodded as if she understood. "Well, what's next?" she asked the group.

"That's up to Harry," answered Barry. "He'll lead us in due time. Your job will be to keep him happy, and let him discover his destiny for himself. Be his friend."

"You mean keep him _dumb_ and happy, don't you?" Desiree remarked.

"Oh, oh, an unsuccessful seduction," asserted one of the older female council members. She received Desiree's glare in return. Barry raised his hand about six inches up and down on the table to quell the mounting tension between the two women.

"Sex is not required, Desiree. Whatever happens this can't be personal. You know that, Desiree, as does every member of the board. Is that clear?

"Yes, sir." The council nodded approvingly.

"In a manner of speaking—yes, we want you to keep him dumb and happy, but not too dumb. Let him learn on his own."

"What makes you think he'll stay with us? Quite frankly, he strikes me as a little weak to be the leader the prophesy talks about."

"Oh? How so?" Barry asked.

"Well, he was obviously frightened on the way here."

"Wouldn't you be? Our recruits are always frightened; some just don't show it as easily. He did overcome his fear rather well, don't you think?"

"Yes. I guess so," she admitted, "but there's something I can't figure. He seems to be hiding something. He does ask some good questions, but he's not very free with his answers."

"So he keeps things...er—what's the saying—close to his chest?"

Desiree knew if Harry failed the council's test, she'd be free of him. Besides, there was something very disconcerting about him. She felt sorry for Harry because he was so obviously ordinary, but she was finding it difficult to actually dislike him.

"Oh, he'll stay," said another Elder, a late forty-something woman sitting on Barry's right. "The Council has information you can't possibly be aware of, my dear." The woman's condescending tone made her defensive.

"What information?" Desiree's face reddened, jaw tense, her voice angry. "You let me risk my life, my identity without telling me everything?"

No response.

"Well?" she demanded.

"All right...of course, we didn't tell you everything." It was Barry who answered her. "Your job was to get him here. You did your job. The less you knew, the less you could tell Cyber security if they took your mind. I know you've been there before; however, I don't think you'd be able to escape this time.

"This is not a game, Desiree. It's serious business, deadly serious, as you know," he said, leaning back in his chair. "Please calm down now. Let's not argue. We need you." Pause. "We need your...er...skills to recruit others."

"You're right, I suppose. I should do what I do best and not worry about the politics," Desiree apologized. "I'll do what I can to make Harry comfortable here."

For all of Desiree's tough bluff, she was sensitive. She was disappointed that Barry deliberately dismissed her, not really caring to hear what she had to say. Relinquishing control to leaders in the group was a feeling she had never gotten used to, but it was a fact in the new society—even Outside. Leadership needed a superior status and some layering to be effective; leaders needed subordinates and a chain of command. While she thought that arbitrarily determining levels of society and limiting exposures to some was as militant and as prejudicial as Makr's Cyber hierarchy, she accepted this reality in her _New World_.

Without another word, she turned to leave, intent on seeking peaceful refuge away from the council. She told herself to let the negative feelings subside. _Ignore the negative and relish the positive. You shouldn't feel this way. Get a hold of yourself._ Here, the room couldn't help lighten her mood, and she needed air.

Elder Barry sat up abruptly in his chair finding renewed energy—a weight lifted.

"Desiree, wait!"

He looked around the room for approval. There were the knowing nods giving full support, shrugs indicating momentary indecision or lack of responsibility, a puckered mouth or two whistle apprehensions, a few furrowed brows shelve the idea for later, and, as always, those faces with invisible blinders excusing themselves from the decision, abstaining.

"There is someone you should meet," continued Elder Barry. "She will make many things clear to you. There's more to Harry than you know."

.

"So you're Harry," mused the attractive thirty-ish woman who squeezed in between other anxious patrons.

"How are you?" Harry grinned. By now he was used to the constant rush of people all wanting to tell their own exciting story. Always the attentive listener, he never seemed to lose patience when a story took long to tell or was even confusingly told.

This woman genuinely interested him. It is not just her look; it was her mysterious attitude and confidence in the way she carried herself. She reminded him of one of his "femme fateles" in one of his ancient vid chips or books. And she looked and felt strangely familiar. _Must be the "chemistry" he has read about, or pheromones_ , he chuckled to himself.

"My name is Darlene, but my friends call me Dar."

She held onto his hand a bit longer than the other women he met in the last several waves did. Her hand was soft, warm, a little moist—and what he thought all female hands should be, delicate and feminine. Her auburn hair and large brown eyes made an impression, too. Her deep red tresses fell, naturally wavy with a softness and gentleness, caressing her shoulders.

Unlike Desiree whose body was petite, this lady was almost as tall as Harry—about 5'10" and slender in a most becoming way. Desiree was fit, firm of body, yet petite, not quite 5' 3" with shoes; Dar created a picture of long, flowing lines that gave her an imposing presence. Desiree can be coarse, tough, and very sexy at times, at least in the very short time he had known her; while Dar, who he didn't know at all, seemed confident and warm, and simultaneously the essence of her image: genteel and soft. So Harry thought.

Dar's impressive presence projected an air of mystery, perhaps reserved for someone of her own choosing—yet she was able to create an aura that mesmerized the entire room. If they didn't know any better, she could be a SensaVision fantasy; they all couldn't share the same fantasy so she had to be legit. She radiated grace, intelligence, and sensuality. While she wasn't nude, she was wearing a peach chiffon sheer that blended perfectly with her auburn hair and highlighted her peaches and cream complexion.

"How do you do it?" she asked Harry.

"Do what?"

"Come into a place filled with people and not die of fright. Didn't you find the experience the least bit frightening?"

"In case you hadn't noticed, I fainted back there so fear was definitely involved."

She smiled. "I don't know why I didn't faint." She moved in closer to him and touched his arm lightly with her fingers. "I was so scared when I came in here, but then I saw you. Well, it took courage for you to keep going. You inspired me and I wasn't afraid anymore. I just wanted to say thank you."

"You're quite welcome, although I didn't do anything."

"I guess it isn't easy being an enemy of your government and being calm about it."

His heart began thumping so loudly he spoke to cover the sound. "An enemy of the... Do you really think one trip here makes me a traitor?" He felt oddly calm asking that very serious question.

She shook her head. "That's not for me to say. After all, I'm here, so that either makes me a traitor, too, or, I really don't mind if you are."

"Which is it?"

"That's for you to find out." There was a hint of interest - a tease in her voice?

"I didn't really come here on my own," Harry offered.

"Oh, who brought you?"

"I probably shouldn't say."

"But you wanted to come didn't you?"

"I hadn't thought about it before. My first experience was upsetting to say the least."

"Are you sure?"

"Why, yes, of course, I'm sure." Changed his mind. "No, I'm not."

"What? Not sure the experience was upsetting, or not your first experience?"

"It's the first time I can remember. But who knows? It is possible I may have been Outside before," he said tentatively. "We can't know all the Makr's machinations, can we?"

"Well, I certainly admire your honesty." Her smile was bewitching, but it was her eyes that drew him in. So much like Desiree, yet so different.

"Why me? You can easily have any man in the house. Why waste time talking to an ordinary 'Joe' like me? Since I've lived Inside my entire life, I'm easily the most boring Bio—er—person here."

"I don't agree. I'd say extraordinary 'Joe' is more like it. It's easy to admire a man who can control his Bio emotions. You interest me, Harry Bolls. Most of these Touchables came from Inside and couldn't adapt to the Outside in weeks, or even months. You did it in less than an hour."

"I think I've always wanted to be here. Just a feeling really, but my collection of historic trivia helps me put things in perspective."

"How does collecting trivia..."

"Historic trivia," he corrected her. "Our ancient history can help us understand how we Bios used to be when the world was quite different. You know, how we lived before Makr."

"Do you think you could help me understand?" She smiled a smile that could and did change everything Harry felt because he was speechless again in awe of her.

How could he be infatuated so fast and twice in one day? Although he had to admit, even the most obnoxious of these people were more appealing than Makr's selections. Where was the cool, calm Harry who addressed the entire room? Where was the guy everyone liked immediately? What was he afraid of? He wanted to go home...to get away...away from this feeling. He wanted to speak, but was terrified. He swallowed hard. He smiled to mask the obvious. Dar held his hand waiting for a response. What seemed a few minutes to Harry were mere seconds. The dark of the Shadow returned.

"Harry. Harry!" The voice was not Dar's. It is Desiree's. "Where have you been? I've been looking all over for you."

Harry jolted to reality. There Desiree stood and Dar was nowhere in sight.

"Hi," he said. "I've just been ah...ah...mingling. Is that what you call it?" Words like that have an illegal place in current society like "murder;" however, normal, everyday citizens rarely have a reason to use the term. "I looked for you earlier," he continued, "but you disappeared."

"Well, I...I was visiting with some friends," she answered, wondering where his previous innocence had gone. He seemed suddenly cold, and less vulnerable.

Harry, preoccupied in thought, was still thinking about Dar.

"You learn very fast."

"So I've been told," he said quietly.

Desiree was visibly upset. Harry seemed strangely indifferent. She felt a twinge of hurt in her body—around the heart—a discomforting feeling. She understood now about Harry. He couldn't help who he was. She doesn't want him to leave now. She wasn't sure if it is her duty calling or something else. She worried it was something else. This freedom to have personal conflict was one thing, but having personal conflict of this kind with Harry was definitely painful.

Music suddenly filled the room. The lights dimmed to a warm, comfortable level. A few unsteady souls fluttered nervously about the room, trying to find comfort zones near familiar bodies. Harry was amused by the voices that buzz hungrily for the event to begin and by those that buzz with trepidation. Some Touchables stood stiffly _untouchable_ , clueless as to what was happening or about to happen. A few faces glowed among those who knew what was about to happen.

"What's going on?" Harry asked Desiree.

"A dance."

"Do you know what that is?" another rebel asked him. The man who asked stood trembling. Obviously, it was still hard for him to be standing there—so close to another unmatched Bio individual.

"Actually, yes," he said. "It's a way people use to meet and touch without sanction...er...without knowing each other very well."

"Th...th...this is mmmmy first ta...ta...time."

"Mine, too."

"But you're so ca...ca...calm?"

"Believe it or not, I was nervous and frightened at first. It's really quite wonderful, isn't it?" The man began shaking uncontrollably and retreated to a dark corner of the room. "Don't worry," Harry called loudly after him, "you'll get used to it!"

The man stared incredulously at the calm and in control Harry who just a few moments ago had been quite frantic himself.

"I've heard dancing can be very pleasant," he said to Desiree who doesn't respond but seems frozen in her spot.

"Is it like sex?" a female rebel whispered and giggled, obviously pleased to be talking with the famous Harry.

"It can be," offered Harry, the sudden expert on sex, "but usually it just helps people get closer to one another. From what I read it can be just physically fun, too."

He looked at Desiree whose mouth is open again. He pushed on her chin and smiled.

"Just remembering some ancient history," he said to her. "Better keep your mouth closed. Flies, remember? Or should I say, bees?"

That got her attention. "I've...I've never seen such...such confidence so early in a recruit." A stammer coming out of Desiree's mouth was truly unusual.

"Yes, isn't it great? I've never felt more alive or more at home. It's like I was born to it." His smile was so genuine he brought out Desiree's smile in return.

_He is certainly in his element_ , she thought. She looked at him admiringly, amazed at his understanding of the situation. She never heard of dancing a year ago. Now, she thoroughly enjoys it, but it had taken her a while to get there.

The Touchables organized this dance as a way for the less extroverted people to meet. Harry remembered dances had once been the way most people met. Or, was it at the office where most people met their significant-others-to-be? Maybe it was both.

He recalled places called singles' bars that sometimes had dancing. These singles' bars resembled The Watering Hole, but the people who went there crowded elbow to elbow and all tried to get to know one another. Some went to "pick-up" someone to take home for sex.

_That can't be right,_ Harry thought. _Desiree picked me up, but we didn't have sex_. However, most of what he read had negative connotations. For the majority of single people, these places were of mixed social value. No good for low self-esteem people, and brought out the worst character traits in others. Seems some men turned into lounge lizards and some women into bitches. Female dogs? Harry guessed it was the _animal_ factor that was primarily responsible for singles' bars and dance clubs being banned in the first place.

That was long before the evolved Makr but assessment by the Matchmaker computer was not far off. Soon assessment and approval became necessary before anyone could legally meet a stranger.

# CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

_"It was recently discovered that research causes cancer in rats."_ **\- Anonymous**

Harry came home to get away from Desiree and Dar, and because he had no place else to go. He didn't exactly slip out of the back door. He made his polite good-byes, said he would come back, and that everyone's secret was safe with him. He regretted his last comment and hoped he hadn't offended anyone.

In spite of the circuitous path he and Desiree had taken from Cyber Match Central to The Watering Hole, he found his way home from a simple map that Desiree drew for him. How they knew where he lived was a mystery he would ask about later; however, he had to get away.

As he approached his abode, he was naturally apprehensive. He had had an illicit rendezvous with the Touchables. He had committed the capital crime of _personal space invading_ by just being there.

After he entered his home, he saw all was normal—or at least the way he thought normal should be.

"Did you have a nice day, Mr. Bolls?" The pleasantry came from Annie, the Cyber housemaid, who appeared to be dusting. Only a minimal attempt had been made to make the cybert appear to be human. She had the general form of a human with none of the fleshy softness; Makr's SensaVision could transform her into whatever form Harry might desire, so why waste precious resources?

"A good day, a great day, Annie, and a great evening," exclaimed Harry. _Let her wrestle with that response. She's never heard anything so positive from me before_.

"Will you require any personal attention? A bath? A massage?"

"The time? What time is it?"

"5:30 am, sir."

"No, I'm fine with the sanitizer and bed."

"I'll turn down the sheets, Sir." Harry had programmed her to say that when she wanted to set his preferences for rest. The bed did the rest to keep him warm and comfortable.

"Thank you, Annie. That will be all. You may retire to your cubby. I'm going to sleep in tomorrow," he announced.

"At what time will you awake, sir?"

"When I awake, Annie."

"What time, sir?"

"When my body decides I've had enough sleep. It's not as precise as Cyber time but it works sometimes."

"What about your schedule?"

"I'll make a new one."

"This behavior is most unusual, sir. Would you like me to summon a therapist?"

"I'm fine. Better than I've been--in a while, actually."

"Yes, sir. Good night, sir." The Cyber disappeared from his view. She would appear when needed again.

He had always preferred to see her in her actual form, all metal and wires, but that didn't stop him from marveling at how SensaVision was able to transform a dull machine into a beautiful, young woman in his mind. She affected him with warmth and understanding no matter how bad his day. This particular day he felt better—happier and more contented than ever before. His outward joy may have confused the maid. Apparently, a lesser Cyber like Annie was not programmed to analyze or bother Makr with her master's unusual behavior at home.

The cleaning Annie, he knew, was for show. Dusting wasn't needed in order to keep the place clean. Cybervacuums in each room extended a hose and sucked out all the dust, and disintegrated that dust in much the same way as a street cleaning cybert did. Atmosphere purifiers sanitized the air. Cybercleaners, also in each room, took care of spills or any other liquid waste that happened to touch the floor or carpet. But some Bios were comforted by the presence of someone preparing the home for his or her presence. Hence, Annie.

Thought-blink. _What would it be like to have a real housemaid, a Bio? No Bio would do such a menial job, would they? What about a Bio home companion like Desiree or Dar? People used to live together, matched for life if they wanted it. Now that thought has merit._ End thought-blink.

While SensaVision routinely changed the environment so others never had to leave the home, Harry's job required that he was physically close to the original Makr cyberserver. Few other Bios shared that privilege. He awakened and physically went to work via hovercar, never venturing Outside; his vehicle took him to another Inside. Once at work, he mouthed the words that reassured him that in the world, all was well. The only difference was that this time, he didn't mean it.

He had begun his adventure Outside bravely. He could think of nothing he could do to alleviate his fears of living life on the run, so he had come home. His dreams would tell if his excursion had accomplished anything. When escaped to his dreams to seek answers, but found none.

What he did find was that SensaVision music played constantly in every one of his dreams and soothed his fragile and confused emotions. The images in his dreams were of whole groups of Cyber buzzing happily, helping him to find his place to co-exist with Cyber and SensaVision. Every cybert image was complete, pristine, and operating at optimum performance. Cyber hum, proudly serving Makr.

The Bio images Harry had dreamed previously were all evil, faceless monsters trying to destroy the Cyber—even simple cyberts. Now, the Cyber grew on the assembly tables to become complex, cognizant and with high intelligence, acute awareness, impeccable logic, and a variety of highly refined senses—unlike Bios, who were the opposite. The message of his dreams was: Cyber were necessary—providing intelligent, logical answers to an illogical and emotional society.

.

Two weeks later. He dreamed regularly now, almost daily. Strangely enough, he still had no dreams about Dar and Desiree. By now, the dreams he had were very pleasant—SensaVision perfect, and left him feeling contented with his life Inside. The dreams, without saying so directly, also left him believing all was forgiven—that his brief excursion to The Watering Hole had never really happened, that he could go back to life as it was before his _adventure_ had happened. But unless he was to lose his memory of the experience that could never be.

The days went by with restless anticipation of a better life with Makr. He went home. He went to work and did his job. He performed the same mundane tasks as before, answering Makr's questions as efficiently as expected, but seeking no answers to any of his own. No authorities came for him. There had been no outbursts to prompt direct Makr intervention. Not even his Cyber- shrink reappeared. Maybe reigning in his passion could keep his life pleasant instead of painful.

He hardly bothered to thought-blink any more. In a passing thought or two, he wondered if the Touchables had forgotten him already. Living without the painful dreams in his brain, he had finally found some peace of mind. His survival Inside felt assured, but he couldn't help but think about the others Outside striving to survive. All he could think of was how wonderfully excited he had felt to be at The Watering Hole and savoring the New World?

Perhaps it was because he couldn't envision a serene life Outside as long as Bios could be happy and comfortable Inside without making an effort.

# CHAPTER NINETEEN

_"We humans were bent on destroying our world— and then Makr came and our world started thriving again. There is no doubt that Makr knows best."_ **\- Ray Bolls**

Three weeks to the day after returning home, he awoke ready to find a new _friend_. With so many pleasant new memories, his memory of Dar and Desiree seemed cloudy. He knew that if he stopped consciously thinking about them, their memory would vanish—not wiped out really, but buried beneath so many more important things. Makr knew best.

Obediently, Harry went to Cyber Match Central and was matched the right way this time. The blessed meeting was to be with a woman who fell within the same range of perfectly agreeable features and character traits, held a similar job as a SensaVision interface, and were constantly being paired with born-agains.

"I feel you are different from most of those I meet, Harry," she said when they met. "You don't have all those annoying habits of the—you-know-who's."

Harry knew she was too polite to say the word. "Thanks, Donna, neither do you."

He drank in her light brown hair, brown eyes, and modest figure. Like Harry, Donna's features fell within .000005 of perfection, rather ordinary by today's standards. She was just his type, thanks to Makr.

_It must be a Bio flaw_ , he thought; _these matches almost never feel right to me—mostly never_. Since he had never experienced a successful match before, why did he think it possible now? He thought, _maybe if I try harder to appreciate my match partner..._ Actually the lack of a perfect match was proof the world was not perfect either. So, maybe he shouldn't expect so much; _if you don't expect much you won't be disappointed_. Of course, it could just have been that he just wanted the world he had lived in most of his life to have had some redeeming value beyond mere contentment.

He thought-blinked for a rare moment or two of sharing The Watering Hole experience with his date, but then thought better of it. He reasoned that he didn't know her at all so why risk sudden erasure for introducing her to it?

He thought-blinked about Desiree and Dar, blowing away the cloud of new memories, and found he missed them both. It wasn't his occasionally logical mind that desired Desiree. The attraction there was purely physical. Dar, however, was a different matter. He hardly knew her, but he longed to spend time getting to know her, a stranger; the lust, he knew, would come later.

He had never been this torn between two women before. His cybermatches up until now had never left a lasting impression. He had rarely thought of his dates after they parted company. Did the possibility of discovery that make their memories more exciting and, therefore, more memorable? He couldn't believe Makr would ever allow this kind of conflict. It couldn't possibly be good. _What if I never go Outside again?_

He shook off the thought-blink. Better to get on with the present and not dwell upon this ludicrous conflict of interest.

While he was sure Donna couldn't possibly take his mind off the other two ladies in his life, he was determined to make it happen. Life was good now, so why ruin it?

Makr, whose presence seemed deeply involved in any relationship, had already given menu and cooking instructions directly to Harry's cybercook so there could be no mistake in the preparation. No relationship had ever been halted due to a Bio cooking disaster since Makr had started running things. The cybercook was another Annie cybert, who would prepare the couple's favorite foods as per Makr's instructions. Harry had no idea how the food got into his house, but when he got home from work, all the right food for his present mood and health were present for consumption. The wine was also Donna's favorite; on the wine, Harry was neutral.

On appearances alone, this match-up didn't seem unusual. It was his usual dinner with intimate talk to follow. In the past, he entertained his dates by showing them portions of his vid collection, but they had seldom been as excited as he was about them. More often they were shocked that Harry dared to break the law by showing them to someone else. Did Makr know? Of course, He did; Harry never saw any of those dates again. Onward, he pledged to be more compliant.

He sensed something was different. There wasn't the usual tension. There was sexual tension, yes, but not the kind of social tension when people stand back and ease into a social pairing. So, what else was different? The instructions for this date were minimal. Harry usually watched a few hours of Makr-approved vid programs or talked with a SensaVision counselor before having a date for dinner.

Without the necessary detailed instructions, Harry was going to have to improvise. Odd that Makr should allow an uncontrolled match-up. He caught himself questioning the logic of it all. _Go with it, be a different Harry—a new and improved version_ , he told himself. _Makr knows best._

He jumped up rather quickly from dinner, startling his guest.

"Surprise!" he said, remembering and relishing the act of saying the archaic word. "I have a surprise for you."

"What's a 'sur-prize'? Is that the word?" she asked, clueless to what he was talking about.

"Inquiring minds want to know," he said, and grinned. "A dessert—a special dessert." He raised one eyebrow and smiled conspiratorially at the use of his own trivia.

A bit shaken, but more stirred, she gave him an intriguing 'I'm-interested' look.

"The surprise in not knowing until the last second," he continued. "I make it myself. The recipe's not on the Cyber menu."

Harry eyed her suspiciously, looking for clues to her guilt or innocence in some plot to catch him at this most vulnerable moment. As he was about to reveal the real Harry, he felt unprotected, exposed—with his pants down—figuratively speaking _._

"Shall we?" Harry said in his most charming voice as he offered her his arm for the trip to the kitchen.

"Yes. Why the hell not?" She accepted his offer. "I'm up for something new."

That didn't sound like something an Insider would say, but Harry brushed it off as refreshing.

In the kitchen, Harry ordered Annie to put herself away until morning. As soon as the Cyber cook left the immediate area, he went to the freezer and took out three containers of different flavored ice cream.

"Do you like ice cream?" Harry grinned. Of course she did, or they wouldn't have matched.

"Yes, of course," she answered cautiously. "Doesn't everyone?" she quipped as she buckled up for the unknown and the unexpected. So far, he hadn't shown her much of either.

"The rest is personal," he announced.

Next, he proceeded to make the two of them a giant sundae in a single bowl, topped it off with some of his favorite sweet, fruity, and nutty ingredients—then after she added some of her favorites, he topped it off with lots of whipped cream. This sundae was not just a sundae or a combination of flavors, it was a union of individual preferences—a shared affinity only he and Donna could have. Harry was beaming with pride in his creation.

Now, for the experience...

With spoons at the ready, Harry and Donna clinked them together in a toast to the unknown and unexpected delights they were about to share. Harry began first by dipping his spoon in the sweet concoction and offering it to her. Still in her devil-may-care mode, she took it with a flourish, closing her eyes. The result was dizzying. She opened her eyes widely, letting Harry know she loved it, and fed him a spoonful of her choosing. Then, the silliness began.

"It's good! Wonderful! Mmm!" She and Harry couldn't stop talking. Trivial exchanges of words. Happy emotional remembrances. They swapped happy ice cream memories. Childhood memories. Ice cream dribbles. Harry laughed and wiped her chin. She laughed and wiped his. More laughter.

"Alarm! Alarm!"

Laughter stopped in midstream. They both became very quiet—and serious.

"There is an unsanctioned presence at the door."

"Who is it? Home Security, identify." Even though exposure to the rebel lifestyle had prepared him to look over his shoulder even at home now and then, his heart skipped a beat.

"The presence is not registered. Repeat. Presence is not registered. Cyber security notified."

Harry knew the Cyber security would take only a few minutes to arrive and remove the intruder. He switched off the automatic door security system, and the door opened. It was Desiree.

"Hello, Harry." Pause. "I see you do not lack for company, sanctioned or un-." She smiled, but it seemed somewhat hypocritical.

Both Harry and Donna looked like dirty-faced children, shiny with streaks of chocolate and strawberry ice cream, and dried whipped cream; guilty of wild abandonment and irresponsible behavior. Harry, unable to contain himself, blurted out: "Desiree!"

Silence.

Why didn't she say something—anything? The pause was too unnerving, so Harry broke the silence.

"I...I'm....I'm glad to see you again." Still no response, so Harry stumbled on uncomfortably. "Uh...uh...this is Donna."

"I see," she finally said rather coldly. "I didn't know you were 'friends'—is that the word, Harry?" The ice cream had given them away.

"What is it, Desiree?" Harry asked, noting her frosty tone. "But you better hurry," he entreated. "Security automatically notifies the cybercops."

Harry was quite uncomfortable knowing he had unsanctioned company—especially since it was Desiree who was on his doorstep.

"Actually, they don't know I'm here—at least not yet, and they won't have a record of it or any conversations. Here, the room is safe now."

She handed him a small palm size device.

"Keep this in your pocket. It blocks any Cyber communication within a five quadrant radius. Makr sees only a circuit glitch. In the grand scheme of things, isolated circuitry problems are minor and easily remedied. It doesn't occur to Makr to look for direct interference and a hidden agenda."

Harry didn't know how to respond. _Why do I need a communication scrambler?_

He traded looks with Donna who, strangely enough, seemed much more at ease with this situation than he was.

"I would have called first..." she started. " That is the protocol in polite society, isn't it, Harry?"

Harry nodded uneasily, his eyes darting to Donna who was taking all this in with a nervous smile since she didn't know what else to do _. It must be a brand new situation for her, too,_ he thought.

"VidPhone calls are easily traced especially when they are unsanctioned," Desiree continued. She was calm and totally in control. "This way we have a few minutes, and only one of us is in danger." Harry looked at her questioningly. "That would be me, so let's hurry."

"Yes, yes, what is it?" Harry was on edge. She was certainly taking her time of it, he thought.

"First, you passed the test. You could have been a disgruntled Bio looking for a fight with the social establishment to blow off steam, but instead you turn out to be genuine. A genuine rebel. You fooled me. Congratulations, anyway."

"What makes you think I want to be a part of your fight?"

"You didn't turn us in for starters." Donna chimed in as though she and Desiree knew each other.

Harry snapped his head around to glare at her.

"Besides we need you," she said, "and..."

"So you are part of this, too?" He wasn't exactly sure if he should be upset. "What is it with you people? What is it you think I've got?"

"And second," Desiree continued, ignoring his question. "The Elders need to see you immediately. It, Harry. You have 'it.' _We_ have to talk, Harry."

With the last statement, she was gone. Harry opened the door a crack and glanced cautiously Outside. Seeing no one, he closed the door and switched the security system back on. As he turned back inside the apartment, he found Donna waiting and smiling.

"We needed to make sure you wouldn't change your mind on us." With a giggle, she explained, "A mind is a terrible thing to waste." He had heard that or read it somewhere—couldn't think where. He was suddenly very tired.

"I guess the date is over," he said bitterly, feeling like he'd been played.

"Sometimes," she answered, as if she had read his mind, "to survive in the new order, Harry, you'll have to be devious, too."

Harry wasn't sure he liked that. "Why can't you people just say what you want?"

"There's a lot at stake."

His mind raced as he contemplated what may be expected of him and the fear facing him again. For a brief moment, his face went catatonic. Thought-blinking was no help now. Speechless, he could only look at Donna and beg the answer to his unvoiced question: why me? His jaw was clenched like he would never open his mouth to speak again. Donna sought to fill the void.

"We need to know what you know, Harry. You're different, and that's a good thing. We Touchables want to accept differences and learn from them. We have a lot to learn from you, Harry."

As she filled in the uncomfortable silence, Harry noticed that she seemed to have all the answers—as if she was reading his mind!

_How different?_ Harry thought. _Am I that different? Even the born-agains—someone understands them, don't they?_

"Maybe we should start by acknowledging and accepting differences," Harry mused, grudgingly.

"There's no other way."

Desiree's interruption and Donna prescient behavior had made the tryst awkward. Although her sex appeal hadn't diminished, it caused Harry to lose immediate interest in the pursuit. Was Donna really any kind of match for him? Did it really matter? It sounded like his matching days were over. _Might as well try to salvage the evening. After all, Makr did make the match, right?_ Or did he?

"Mr. Bolls, Cyber security have arrived," the security system interrupted.

A familiar voice of authority came from his home security system speaker. "Mr. Bolls, your home security reported an unsanctioned visitor?"

"Yes, that's correct. There was someone at the door. They've gone now."

"Did you know the Bio?"

"Of course not," Harry lied. "She wasn't sanctioned, was she?"

The Cyber cop recognized the sarcasm. "We're sorry to have bothered you, Mr. Bolls."

There was a moment of silence. Harry and Donna exchanged quick looks. Donna breathed a sigh of relief.

"So much for Cyber security," she said.

Harry shook his head. "Yeah, I hate it when that happens," he said flippantly. "It's not over yet. Wait a minute and see."

Donna sat back, waiting. A familiar voice came over the security system. It was the same security cybert. The voice sounded identical to the earlier inquisitor, but this time was more apologetic and appeasing.

"Sorry to bother you again, Mr. Bolls. I don't know how it happened, sir, but we neglected to ask you something."

Harry smiled his _knowing_ smile. Donna shook her head in amazement.

"It seems you have a guest—an authorized guest?"

"Yes, Match #45382. Her name is Donna Perot."

"Are you alone with her?"

"Yes." The truth, of course. A brief pause.

"Thanks for your time," the cop continued. 'Good night and have a happy match.' There was a split second of silence before Harry or Donna released the air in their lungs. Harry fingered the communication disrupter Desiree has given him to make sure it was turned on. Someone could be listening.

"How did you know they'd come back, Harry?"

"That was easy. Have you ever known a cyberserver to forget information? It's impossible."

She smiled, not really understanding anything he has said..

He went on, "It's an old cop trick—from a time before we used only cyberts for Bio contact work—to solve Bio crimes. There was this master cop, Columbo, I think his name was, who used it to trip up criminals. The interrogation program, like all programs dealing with Bio behavior, was developed by a Bio, remember, and Bios had history back then."

He stopped when he caught himself lecturing.

"But how..."

"I read books."

"Books?"

"Before SensaVision, before CDs, DVDs, VidChips, before video and film, there were books a thousand years ago. Words on paper describing Bio trials and tribulations."

"I'm afraid I don't understand."

"I concentrate on history trivia—media mostly," he explained proudly. "Whatever may have been dismissed by the preservation sensors and archivists."

"But..."

Harry held up his finger to his pursed lips to quiet her.

"It's your turn, Donna. I need you to answer a few questions for me."

"Sure," she said. Harry was turning out to be a most interesting assignment.

"How were we matched? It can't be coincidence."

Donna was silent for a second, unsure what she can say, but Harry saves her the trouble.

"Okay, I guess that's not really important. The damage is done now."

"I'm sure the council will tell you what you need to know, Harry. In time."

Harry studied her face intently. He wanted to know the full extent of his involvement here.

"How did you input the file without suspicion?"

"I can't take credit for that part. We lost two people the first time we tried to hack into the system. They were erased and born again. We thought it was hopeless after that and stayed away from any potential Cyber contact. Then you came to us. Then you left our sanctuary quite unexpectedly. We had no choice, but to try again. You didn't help much by staying away so long."

Harry squirmed a bit, knowing he might have to reveal more than he wanted to.

"I needed time to adjust—to think."

"Fortunately, this time we had some expert help," Donna continued. "We knew from your psychological profile you would return to a dating establishment—in your case, Cyber Match Central—soon after visiting us. It's your pattern. You tend to do this when you're upset about something. When you did, I would be waiting, hoping to attract you and you would ask for a match... But you waited two weeks. We were worried we lost you forever."

"Whoa! Hold on! I have a psychological profile?"

"Think, Harry. We all do. All Bios do. Anytime there is Cyber contact. How do you think the matches happen at all?"

He stared at her, trying to take it all in. _How?_ he wondered.

"That's easy. We hack."

"You read my mind again."

"Sorry."

"You said you hack?"

"We dig into the Cyber memories. We probably know more about you than you do."

"And you don't get caught?"

"Unfortunately, yes, sometimes we do, but Makr's upgrading all cybersystems to biological DNA-based ones, which are so fast and can operate on so many different levels. When they're online we'll never be able to hack or input information before we're discovered and traced. Until we can use some of the same technology to hack, we're finished."

"So, what happens next?"

"Although it's not as effective, we are learning about the system's darker side left by the early programmers and technicians. It seems they didn't trust the politicians or the Cyber completely and left some assurances in hidden files, unalterable program instructions to keep the cyberserver in check."

"You're trying to combat an evolving super intelligence with dirty tricks?"

"Afraid that's all we've got. Besides you, that is."

"So, what do you know about me that I don't know?"

"Oh, no you don't. I have my orders and they don't include giving you that information. I'm sure you'll find out in time."

"Why can't you tell me? Why don't they want me to know?"

"To be honest, Harry? The council says that you're too fragile. We don't know what you'll do once you have that information. You aren't totally one of us yet. You don't know what you want. We can't be sure of what you would do with that information. It's safer with us for the time being."

"I thought you Touchables were all trusting. It doesn't sound like I'm trusted."

"No offense, but you aren't exactly, and won't be for some time. Some members of the council are unsure you are the One of the Prophesy; others, on the other hand, want to believe anything that will help. In some ways, you're still quite a mystery to us. In the meantime, we'll get to know you as you get to know us."

"That does make sense, although..."

"I know there are mysteries in your past you'd like to solve, and one day we may be able to help you do that, but right now it's not a priority. We have to go slowly. If we move too quickly, we'll make mistakes and Makr will find us out. We are human after all. Let's just say, we weren't sure you'd still be with us."

"And my file?"

"We were fortunate in gaining a new member, a Bio cyberprogrammer—someone high up—Inside. She is the one who planted the file. Exactly how, we don't know, but it worked."

"Planting your file was a loyalty test for her, too?"

"Something like that." _Intelligent._

"You risked your life coming here. No one is worth that. Certainly not me."

He's modest, too.

"I don't know about you being worth it or not, but I do know some things are."

Until now, Harry had assumed the movement to be small, isolated and rather unorganized. From what he'd just witnessed, he saw that it existed on a grander revolutionary scale. _Maybe they are who they say they are,_ he thought. _The builders of a better future._

"I have to leave soon," he said.

"Without a map?"

"Okay, then. Can you draw me one? I tossed the old one."

"I know. No problem, just not yet, Harry." Donna's smile took on a seductive quality. "Let's finish our ice cream. You have to make love to me first, you know."

"I do?" He began to forget all about his concerns and was ready to explore new uses for ice cream.

"Yes," she agreed with a glint in her eyes. _He is unassuming after all_ , she thought.

In Harry's mind, he had no choice.

# CHAPTER TWENTY

_"The danger of the past was that men became slaves. The danger of the future is that man may become robots."_ **\- Erich Fromm**

"Harry, where have you been? We've been expecting you for quite some time. Barry needs to see you right away."

"Good to see you, too, Sam." Harry smiled to see if the sarcasm was lost on Sam; however, his usual Cheshire-Cat smile was gone, indicating this meeting with Barry must be serious indeed.

Although puzzled at this reception, he entered the hall with the confidence of an owner. As he scanned the massive room for Barry, he saw quite a few familiar and many, many new faces. He didn't see Dar or Desiree. He spotted a man standing in front of a group instructing them on various social protocols. Harry had seen instructors like this before in his vidchips. Inside, Cyber programs did the instructing so there could be no unfortunate Bio-to-Bio contact. Bio presentation like this was going to be necessary in the new order. As he passed another group, he overheard another rebel addressing six or seven individuals.

"We need to gain control of the Cyber that run our lives. We've got to take back that control any way we can—destroy them all if need be."

"Just what exactly are you advocating, sir?" They stared at Harry, obviously perturbed by his interruption, but Harry couldn't help himself. "Are you proposing to destroy all the Cyber? Now? All at once?"

"Would that be so bad?" asked the presenter.

"Can you fly a hovercar, sir?

"Yes, of course."

"Don't you mean the vehicle goes where you tell it, following a global grid memory? The hovercar pretty much drives itself doesn't it? All you do is sit in it?"

The man shrugged and nodded agreement. Harry kept going.

"I think we need Cyber for some things until we learn to do for ourselves some of the tasks we gave to them in the first place."

"That could take a long time," the man said impatiently.

"Yes, you're right. It will take time. But I think there is a better way than using violence. We just have to find it."

"Is that it?" the man asked. "You leave us searching for answers. You have no answers of your own? Well, that's great—just great!" The man proclaimed sarcastically, more to himself than anything.

"I have a few answers," Harry said. "But I don't have all of them..."

"Neither do we." The man folded his arms, his body language saying he was refusing to listen. Harry knew better.

"Yes, you do...all of you do, and we need all the answers we can get," he insisted agreeably. Harry wanted answers himself. "You have a good start here," he said to the lecturer, and turned to the group as a whole. "Each of you has ideas, and different experiences. Share them."

"You mean pool our ideas and pick the best one?" a twenty-something female member of the group asked.

"Not necessarily. That's one way. Actually that's more like Cyber logic. Instead, why not use Bio logic as well? Use individual ideas to examine possible solutions to our problem. You can combine ideas. Use things like intuition, a facility the cyberservers don't have. It may help you reach a unified goal. I bet some of you'll get more ideas from hearing others state theirs."

"Will you help us?" another member of the group asked.

"You have someone—a natural leader who can direct your progress toward a common goal," Harry indicated the man he had been verbally jousting with.

"Who are you, stranger?" the man asked.

"My name is Harry. Who are you?" Harry smiled and extended his hand.

"I've heard of you. My name's Bob. Glad to meet you, Harry," he said.

"Bob! Bob! Bob!" Several different voices rang out from the group. Hands were anxiously reaching for the ceiling. "I have an idea...." "Remember when you said..." "On that issue..."

Bob's raised and outstretched hand signaled stop. "You...we will all get a chance to express our ideas. We just need some order now, please."

Harry moved away from the group. He turned and winked at Bob and waved at the group.

"Thanks, Harry," said Bob with genuine gratitude in a voice audible only to himself, but the message to all was loud and clear: Harry may be worth the trouble after all.

Harry spied Sam again as he approached Barry's office at the end of the large general purpose room. Evidently, Sam had witnessed the short debate. Obviously pleased, he couldn't hide his pleasure from Harry.

"We are learning, Harry, slowly but surely, " said Sam. "We don't want mistakes this time."

Harry was feeling philosophical. "I don't know, Sam. Without some mistakes, we can't have change. Without change, there is no passion or zeal for making the future."

"Is that one of your historical tidbits?" Sam asked.

"No," said Harry. "Just something I've recently discovered. The real world is more complicated than anything Makr can throw at us."

Everything went black.

.

Flash. Bright, steady light. Darkness. A sound now—a hum really. Digital noise gradually became melodious and hypnotic. Unexpectedly, the image of a horribly deformed Bio with a sledgehammer hovered above his head, but Harry's cranium wasn't the target; the hammer moved up and down, crushing shiny, crystalline pieces of cybert exteriors. Some of the cyberts laid out on the table were hauntingly beautiful, with a shimmering metal skin glowing with a heavenly aura, and sensors that looked like innocent Bio eyes. The dismembered cybert bodies and limbs randomly distributed on the table had graceful lines, showing Harry a side of Cyber he'd never seen before. He examined the undersides of the limbs, an arm by Bio definition, filled with colorful wires and shiny moving parts. He'd never regarded Cyberts as a work of beauty, or art—until now.

He heard the crash of the sledgehammer before he saw the shiny crystal body parts disintegrate into a million pieces. He winced, disgusted, horrified and sick to his stomach as the sledgehammer fell again and again.

He thought-blinked twice in a row. _No good! No change! It is getting harder to control these dreams during the day_. A third time.

Reality! The Watering Hole.

He sensed a few odd looks from the Touchables but knew he couldn't do anything about it now. Less than halfway to Barry's office, he heard laughter—lots of it, which gave him pause.

"A funny thing happened to me on the way to The Watering Hole..." This was unlike his experience with Bob's group. This speaker was giving a monologue. Not until Harry heard a couple of reflections and opinions offered by the speaker did he comprehend the purpose of the speech. Of course, he'd seen it before, humorists, comedians, clowns... _What's the other term? Stand-up? Yes, that's it._ Naturally he had seen stand-up comedy in his vids, but even knowing the purpose he didn't see the humor in it. But at least this guy was trying, and Harry wouldn't have tried it himself.

The comedian was testing new ground, making an attempt at public performance, a thing of the past. Standing on a make-shift stage made of several cloth-covered form-fitting sitting cubes pushed together, he delivered what he assumed would amuse his audience, delivering archived jokes from the past; some had been modified to make them contemporary or at least understandable to this audience, and some Harry didn't recognize as jokes at all. The audience watched him more as a curiosity, a pioneer artist, than an entertainer. In an effort to be supportive, the audience laughed on cue at some of the most inane, inept musings and unfunny jokes.

Upon seeing Harry, the comedian announced deliberately and loudly, "Heeeeeere's Harry!" There was much laughter and applause. Not so much for Harry, but for the man on stage.

Harry smiled and waved his acknowledgement. Thinking he was being introduced and expected to say something, he started for the stage. The audience's attention was once again riveted on the comedian who was telling tales of his awful childhood—a childhood that was really no different than anyone else's.

Harry redirected his steps to the back room where he thought Barry might be found. Barry, seeing him heading his way, met him at the door.

"Harry, how are you?" Barry extended his hand warmly, patting Harry on the back as he led him inside.

"Fine, fine, Barry."

"Sit, sit, Harry."

Harry sat.

"Desiree gave me your message."

Barry sat in uncomfortable silence for a moment. When he finally spoke, it was still small talk.

"So...what do think of the comic?"

"Comic...comic?" Harry was stumped until he was able to make the connection. "Oh yes, the gentleman on the stage." It had taken him a few seconds to remember the archaic word he had only seen once or twice. "Are those jokes he's telling?"

"In a primitive sense. Joke telling is a rather ancient art form. No one has heard jokes from an actual person since well before we were all born—especially like these. Unless you know something I don't, we've only heard the barely entertaining cyberstories laced with Makr messages—both obvious and subliminal. No Bio has told them in our lifetime. I think Tricky Dick does us proud."

"I beg your pardon. Tricky Dick?"

"The comic," Barry answered.

Harry was busy remembering... That nickname. He had seen it before...in another context, perhaps? Nothing... Can't have been too important _._

"He just thought the name sounded funny. I think it does, don't you?"

Harry smiled sympathetically, agreeing, while he contemplated the implications and possible scope of Bio entertainment. In his SensaVision world, he was an entertainer of sorts, but he was what Makr wanted him to be. He had no control of the image he presented to other Bios; they probably didn't even see the real Harry, his image being more often that of an authority figure. _Is that how the Touchables see me? An authority figure?_

_Sometimes you can't help yourself,_ Harry thought. He was what he was: what Makr made him to be. Suddenly disgusted, he didn't care much for his SensaVision position anymore. Once proud to be so close to Makr, interpreting Bio behavior while sending important Makr messages, now he felt part of the problem, responsible for the enslavement and subjugation of all Bios on the planet. It was a heavy burden he would have to deal with soon, but now he needed some diversion.

However, this Touchable entertainment was far different and the possibilities wide open by Touchable standards. It had the potential for giving joy, for being comforting and warm. Poking fun at convention, voicing opinions, exaggerating facts? He found himself examining once again his place in _this_ society so infested with contact crimes. Well, they certainly didn't hide it. Even their name said it all. Was he here to develop Touchable entertainment? Surely that wasn't it. There had to be some other reason Barry was so anxious to see him.

Barry broke into Harry's thoughts unceremoniously and asked him if he had heard about jokes before...or read about them in his hobby collection.

He had, yes. Harry reported. "Some jokes were considered in bad taste, and could hurt people so they were outlawed a century ago."

"Yes, but don't you feel they have some value?" Elder Barry asked rhetorically. "We think Tricky Dick's achievement is a beginning. Hopefully we can prevent the result you refer to."

Harry's polite smile was tentative at best.

"Besides, I think it's good to smile."

"I agree with you on that," Harry said. "Smiling does make you feel good."

"The Board is interested in it for morale's sake," Barry added. "We don't need bored people here. You do agree, don't you? With all the negativity in the world, we need to keep ourselves entertained." He sighed. "We don't have the pleasure of, nor do we desire, SensaVision fantasies in The Watering Hole." He stopped, waiting to gauge Harry's reaction.

Unsure of what to say, Harry maintained his polite smile and furrowed his brow as though he was contemplating Barry's words.

With a sigh of resignation, Barry inferred what he thought Harry might say if he were so inclined...

"Unfortunately, we don't even know how to be an audience and interact with one another properly. That's what everyone is doing here. Learning. This is our way of training for a new world. We're training to get along, training to get over our fear of each other, training to not take ourselves too seriously..."

"Seems to me you're doing a great job so far, Barry."

"Not so good, Harry. You see us more clearly than we see ourselves. That's why we need you. You have the knowledge and a remarkable innate sense of who we are. And there's another thing..."

"My thought-blinking?"

"Yes, but that's not the main reason you're here. You're close to Makr yet you are able to see through His illusions. That's true enough. You can help those people Inside to accept the world as it is without the fantasy. You can help us understand the world as it should be again."

"How can you be so sure?"

"I can't—we can't be sure, but we need guidance, Harry. Your especially suited."

"What do I do? Tell me how I can help because I have absolutely no idea. Are you sure you don't have me mixed up with someone else?"

"No, Harry, we're sure we have the right one, the One of the Prophecy."

"I'd never even heard of the Prophecy before I met you Touchables."

"To be perfectly honest, we weren't sure what to make of it either. We promoted it though."

"Why?"

"To give hope. To give the Touchables a reason for living. When we discovered Makr was playing with our reality, too, many became depressed. We'd always been a positive lot. The kicker came when we discovered we'd have no defense against Makr's latest upgrade."

"The DNA-based Cyber system?"

"How? Oh yes, Donna told you. Not really an upgrade but a whole new system—smaller, real-time simultaneous analysis and a vast data storage capacity. What do you know about it?"

"Not much really. Just that it's much faster at processing data."

"The speed is mind-boggling. Makr will operate in a totally seamless environment. Until now, we've managed to exist, have a moment or two of freedom in the glitches and be confident Makr couldn't be totally everywhere at once. We always had time to evacuate if we were discovered, but now... We've lost the only edge we had. We'll never be able to stop it—especially if we have to wade through a maze of SensaVision realities."

"You need me to see through SensaVision for you."

"Very perceptive of you, Harry. We thought we had a Makr-free reality out here. We don't know the extent of Makr's influence though, and that's where you can help. You wouldn't have to do it all yourself. We'd help. Hopefully you can train others here to see the signs you can see. We think some of our emotives would be good candidates for training."

"It's a tall order," Harry commented.

Barry nodded.

"Yes, it is, but a necessary one. Look, I don't even know that's possible. All I know is that we have to try."

Barry was relieved. After effectively transferring his burden to Harry, he returned to the diversion at hand.

"You're right, I suppose," he said. "We'll have to be careful and watch what the comic says."

"Are you sure that's what you want to do?"

Anyone Harry knew had lived totally censored lives with the exception of these Touchables, and he barely knew them.

"Are you saying total freedom to say what you think is better?"

Barry was pleased. His new recruit had demonstrated unique wisdom—the very reason he was the chosen one.

"Well, if you say so, Harry."

"It's not because I say it, Barry. But, I do think we need to restrict our freedoms wisely—limiting that to more important issues...like preventing bodily harm. I don't know. I believe censorship, controlling other freedoms, may be why you and your Touchables are here. All our lives we've been taught what to think and you've rebelled against that."

"And you?"

Harry's shrug was his answer.

"Yes, well, that's for later." Barry paused for a moment. "Desiree says you're still on the fence. It's okay, give it some time."

"I...I just don't know yet."

Harry, drawn to the Touchable world, was conflicted by what he knew to be a good and pleasant place, the sanctuary of whatever he needed, but it put him in an extremely precarious position—dangerous even. He had a home that was filled with only happy feelings, where a normal society said he belonged—Inside. His mind was swimming with the new information he had been given.

Barry made it easy for Harry by changing the subject.

"I know you're right about the comic. Tell you what. We'll let him say whatever he wants." He smiled broadly. "I'm also convinced, Harry, we made the right decision in recruiting you."

"What?"

"Bringing you here, I mean." Barry leaned back in his chair.

# CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

_"Society is now one polish'd horde, Formed of two mighty tribes, The Bores and Bored_ **.** " **\- Lord Byron** _,_ _Don Juan, Canto XIII, Stanza 95_

Hearing that he was probably a born-again wasn't really a surprise to Harry, but he had hoped he was wrong. In the back of his mind he thought there had to be some connection because Makr had kept pairing him with other born-agains. _Oh Makr, am I that boring and annoying_?

"That isn't the bad news, Harry." Elder Barry knew that many of his Touchables had been re-born, reincarnated, or re-conditioned—whatever it was called at the time.

"The bad news is that it appears Makr selected you to be a pawn from the beginning, something special in His scheme of things. We found mention of it in the last batch of hidden files before we shut down our operation. We don't know why He's doing it, but we think you may have a control—an implant of a special chip or something. It could be as simple as a communication or location device, or a way Makr has of controlling your behavior that's with you always."

"Either way, that makes me a threat to you."

"I'm afraid so. We do know that your mind, as fine as it is, has been tampered with."

"But how?"

"One of the people you met during your first visit here is a Bio psychologist, an emotive like Donna, who evaluated you as we do all newcomers."

"Another emotive?"

"I'm still not sure how they do it. An emotive seems to read minds, sense motives and secrets. We use them to root out Makr secret agents and what have you."

Harry sits there a moment, staring front, dazed, and silent. "Donna?"

"Donna didn't give us that information, but she vouched for you. Said you had tremendous talents that would still be useful. But you really don't know any of the rest of this, do you?"

Harry shook his head.

"I'm glad. That means you're not a willing participant in Makr's plan."

"Is that what you think I am? A spy?"

"To be honest, it had occurred to us. A traitor. Who better than someone prophesied to have a profound influence on us?"

"Prophesied? By whom?" That was the second time he had heard that, or was it more?

"An Evangel. Ever hear of them?"

"Desiree mentioned them on the way over here. One of the Bio splinter groups. Worship Makr and PerSoc completely or something like that."

"Exactly like that. You are almost one yourself by definition, aren't you?"

"Until recently, I didn't know anything else."

"But you do. How? Why are you so different from the others?"

"I wish I knew," said Harry dejectedly.

"Ha! I thought so," Barry exclaimed excitedly. "You don't know how much of an advantage you have over the rest of us. You have access to the Outside and didn't even know it. Your vid collection is your key to the past. Ours, too _,_ I hope."

"Well, at least I'm not crazy."

"No, probably not. One advantage, I think, we Bios have over Cyber _is_ our ability to read between the lines, you know, to see past the obvious. This Evangel, he said you had the symptoms of a born again, but that you were more than that, different; your programming is defective somehow. Something happened in the rebirth process and your brain's synaptic rhythms were disrupted. You dream. In your case, you have nightmares. Am I right?"

"But that's not all, is it?"

"No, I'm afraid not. Problem is we simply don't know enough—except to know you are a possible threat to us here."

Finally Harry was getting answers; just not the answers he was seeking.

"Why? How?"

"The _how_ is easy for Makr. At some point you were taken and reconditioned, but you know all that. Did you know all Insiders have a chip inside their heads? No? We didn't either for a long time and then we recruited someone who did. He was a Bio interface at a chip manufacturing plant. It's a monitoring device as well as a conduit for SensaVision. Most of us out here have had it removed and destroyed. We want peaceful co-existence with Makr, but we don't want Him in our heads either. You have another kind of chip—not the usual chip we all had—that was probably placed in your brain and _programmed so you could be in constant contact with Makr on an entirely different level_. That we don't know for sure though."

"When did you...?"

"When you passed out the first time you came here. The doorway. Simple CAT scan revealed a chip. We always look to make sure our recruits are entirely human. We expect the regular chips and this time it was different. Yours is larger and denser. Means more information, more programs, and more Cyber evolution."

"You think Makr can make cyberts that sophisticated?"

"You've experienced SensaVision reality first hand. Hard to tell the difference from the real thing, isn't it? I think Makr can make a cybert that looks and acts just like us. Maybe not loose enough behaviorally, not enough gray areas, but close enough so we wouldn't notice. Question is: if He hasn't, why not? It defies logic, which is quite ironical considering..."

"...Cyber are always logical. Okay, why hasn't He?"

"Because He wants to keep us separate. He wants us to know our enemy."

"But He's not your enemy?"

Barry raised an eyebrow.

"Not everyone thinks like we do. You know that. Because we are separate doesn't mean we can't co-exist. Besides it's the Bios who want co-existence. This place is still illegal. We're all committing a capital crime by being here."

"Let's say your suspicions are correct—that my brain has been tampered with. Can't you just remove the chip like you have with others?"

He shook his head, "It's larger and too intricately embedded in the brain stem. We can't do it without killing you. At best we'd paralyze you and you'd be no good to us anyway."

"Thanks, I guess. Won't I be giving you away here?"

"True, but if you do, we'll kill you."

"You should," Harry said. Strangely enough he believed it.

"Don't worry, Harry. I don't think you'll give us away. I can't imagine Makr doesn't really know we aren't here, but there's hope. And a few helpful devices we control. Your communication disrupter isn't strong enough to work here; however, friends of ours created a portable electromagnetic field device that should disrupt any signal you may be sending to Makr or He to you. If you go home, well, that's another story."

"What can we do?" asked Harry anxiously.

"We have to face this head-on. We can't allow you to leave The Watering Hole—for a few weeks anyway—until we can sort this out."

"You're holding me prisoner?"

"We're all prisoners of one kind or another, Harry. We don't think you're likely to give us away. You'd have done that already. We think it has a more subtle, passive resistance effect."

"What do you mean?"

"Although it is likely and entirely possible that you may be gathering knowledge of our organization, the chip's only purpose may be to keep your behavior in check. Now, I don't believe that for a moment. I believe in a diabolical Makr who wants to control and manipulate all Bio behavior."

"That doesn't allow me much choice. Either way—I'm a threat to you."

"Perhaps, but, at the same time, I can't help thinking your purpose is as prophesied. The Evangels are an odd lot, giving everything a religious purpose, but they have access to information we have no way of getting otherwise. We have no choice but to risk your presence until we know more. I could be wrong. It could be that Makr simply doesn't want you to forget your role in society. Remember how much trouble it was for you to come here? Remember the fear?"

"Of course, I remember. It was terrifying."

"Well, that's Makr's hand. You overcame that fear. You see? That is a major difference between Cyber and Bios. Bios can change their minds. They can forget their fear for a moment or change their behavior. Cyber are stuck. Oh, there have been programs that allow them to adjust, but that doesn't happen without expending a lot of inefficient energy so it takes a while for them to catch up. Meanwhile, we humans...do you mind if I call you that—human—instead of Bio?"

Harry's dazed reaction told Barry that he was fine with it and so he went on. "While we aren't as fast in the ciphering department, we can decide without all the available data. Machines have to wait, or at least they had the appearance of waiting. And for them, there's only one answer."

"Unequal in some ways, more than equal in others," Harry interjected.

"Yes, that's true, we are. Unfortunately this DNA cyberserver will make any differences between us so minor as to be invisible to the human eye. There won't be any perceptible glitches or flickers or gaps. That's why we need to act as soon as possible before the upgrades can be made to the current systems."

Barry could see Harry's attention was elsewhere. But Harry heard every word. Still, he closed his eyes, searching for a clue to help. "What if I stay here at The Watering Hole and never leave?"

Barry laughed. "Trust me, you'd get bored." As an Elder, he had placed that very burden on himself; as such a well-known Touchable, Barry wouldn't have lasted ten minutes outside The Watering Hole.

"We think you should spend a lot more time with us. For your own good—and ours. Of course, we'll let you leave once in a while for short visits, but we'll have to limit those visits to the reach of our disruptor devices until we discover the answer to our little problem."

Harry agreed with a nod. There was wisdom in this man Barry. Perhaps more to convince himself, Harry tried to make light of the situation, and said, "Well, at least I'm Bio—er human."

"You're more than that. You're a Touchable."

Harry smiled for the first time during this exchange.

"By the way, Harry, thought you'd like to know. Your emotive evaluator did say something to ease your pain a little. She said you were a much improved born-again, 'not the usual dolt or narrow-minded dimwit.' I think she meant it as a compliment."

Barry, in all his wisdom, wasn't too sure that Harry was all Bio, but he would never let him know as long as it was up to him and not the council.

Harry found himself trusting Barry and all his cohorts. He even trusted Desiree, who had a sexual hold on him, and Donna, who could read him far too well for comfort.

But the dreams were back with a vengeance, and he told no one—especially Barry. This time the images were harsher, and more violent than ever before. Makr seemed to know when he was not where he should have been. The Bio villains in his dreams always destroyed Cyber, and Harry suffered the pain as if he was one of the victims or a horrified onlooker. This time was different. Some of the Cyber turned on the Bios. An energy bolt surged from the tabletop, exploding the Bio figure looking down menacingly at the Cyber. He awoke disconcerted, feeling triumphant in having seen a Bio destroyed.

If the disruptor Barry had given him wasn't working, there was much to worry about...for everyone.

# CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

_"It may be that our role on this planet is not to worship God but to create him."_ **\- Arthur C. Clarke**

Over the next few weeks Harry learned how immense the Touchable organization was as he assisted with the education of new members. As he passed unto them wisdom of the ages that he had gleaned from history books and other ancient sources, his presence had a reassuring effect on the local believers, his confidence and wisdom being passed on to the entire Touchable population. He trained others to lead discussion groups to generate new ideas as well as share and grow existing ones; brainstorming, he had heard it called.

He saw himself as one of them, yet he was not. He immersed himself in the tranquil rebel stronghold, honing his skills as a communicator. By becoming invaluable to them as a teacher, and learning everything he could, he hoped it would make up for whatever harm he might do in the future.

Barry had told him that Touchables in the city only numbered 40,000, but that worldwide their numbers were much larger. He found that community to be much larger than he had thought possible—millions strong. Comparatively speaking 40,000 was a small portion of like-minded dissidents, considering the city's Insider population was roughly forty million.

.

Harry found living Outside a remarkable and mostly pleasurable experience, fraught with fear, excitement and a surprising amount of variety. He relished the Touchables' return to the past. As promised, Barry had allowed him as much freedom to come and go as he wanted—within limits. Although he was unaware of it, Harry was constantly under surveillance by other Touchables. His every move was scrutinized and his motivation was examined by Emotives who were part of the surveillance team. His team showed bemused interest in reporting his favorite activity—shopping.

Harry suspected he was drawn to the underground shops because all his life, he had been given so few choices. Makr or someone had always made those choices for him. Once it had been his parents or teachers, now it was Barry and his Touchables. He wondered where Makr fitted in and how much control he ever really had.

Underground shopping was just that. Under the city lay a network of Touchable and Outsider splinter groups that bartered goods—Cyber credits were no good down here. The ancient art of conducting business, the buying and selling of products and services, Harry remembered, had been outlawed when Cyber had made it impossible for Man to be exposed to others.

When that happened over time, and with Cyber monitoring product quality and ensuring production efficiency and cost effectiveness, there soon became little difference between brands, and then none at all. All products had become the same. A few had been modified to prevent allergic reactions for some people, but they were essentially the same in quality and cost. Inside, raw materials became finished products, virtually untouched by human hands until in the home.

Naturally, Inside, cyberts did all the so-called shopping. Harry noted from his hobby research that shopping had been termed by Cyber scientists an amoral addiction, for women in particular. Obsessions for men, it seemed, were gambling and sports. Those obsessions had been removed when they were found to be significant influences responsible for societal ills such as collapsing the family unit and contributing to criminal acts. Drugs and alcohol were rendered impotent after a few seconds and non-addicting. Of course, there had been many more instances where Bio contact and influence alone were linked to various problems in society, and as each contact problem had become known, it was summarily dropped from society, outlawed by benevolent socialism.

Outsiders visiting the underground market discovered the man-made environment was unlike any other Makr reality and they savored a delightful feast of experiences. With no currency to purchase items, bartering was the primary method with which to purchase goods. Harry traded his time lecturing on historical trivia for products—food products mostly; he couldn't get enough of the unhealthy Bio-handled, cooked dishes.

Food vendors deliberately fanned the cooking pots and microwaves to apportion the aromas, while cooking an array of favorite foods. They also loved to talk and there was much laughter and talking. While a few traded in order to survive, no one could get rich—if there was such a thing —but it was fun to share the wealth of one's discoveries with newfound friends. No one was ever a stranger once you met them in the underground market. As far as Harry was concerned, in spite of his relative captivity, the same could be said for the Watering Hole.

While it was a positive experience for most, some Bios fresh from the Inside, shunned the sellers and never bought or traded a thing. Even the Emotives couldn't predict who would enjoy the experience and who would be totally intimidated by the process and retreat back to the comfort of letting others decide for them.

To Harry, one group was noticeably absent: the Shadow People. Harry had not seen one since his first venture Outside. Desiree had said they wouldn't mix, that they preferred the company of their own and lived mostly off what they scavenged or stole. If they were here, he didn't know it.

Touchables, on the other hand, were friendly enough once they got over their initial fears. Those who couldn't face those fears ever came back. It had crossed Harry's mind - and those of others - that some of those who didn't come back may have been caught and eliminated by the cyberts. Most people ignored these unpleasant thoughts and enjoyed this moment in their lives without complication. As for his own captivity, he couldn't say being a prisoner here was all that bad, but he did wonder if Makr was making an active search for him or if he had just been written off as insignificant. He hoped for the latter.

Drawn by the wonderful smells, Harry stopped at a stall offering unusual and potentially dangerous food fare. The proprietor assured him his dishes were completely unhealthy, but well worth the risk. Harry made his choice. As he tried to stuff the whole delicious dish—a tortilla stuffed with all kinds of unhealthy cholesterol, sugars and fats—in his mouth, he spied Dar at the food booth next to him. She looked his way. He nearly choked as he tried to withdraw out of sight, and hastily ate the rest of his meal. _Oh no_ , he thought, _she mustn't see me like this!_ Swallowing the last mouthful, he anxiously wiped his mouth on his sleeve and stepped back into view to find Dar once more, but she'd vanished.

He turned back toward the vendor.

"Hi, Harry," said Dar, who was suddenly inches from his face. Startled, he jumped back a little, but recovered quickly. She laughed. Then they both did.

"Darlene, isn't it? I'm glad to see you. How are you?"

Harry was trying hard to appear casual.

"Very well, Harry. Thank you. How 'bout yourself?" She was practicing the small talk, too.

"Fine. Great. I've missed you. I wanted to see you again." That did it. Harry had said what was on his mind.

"So did I," she said without hesitation.

Without a word he reached for her hand. She accepted his warmly. As they walked hand in hand, smiling contentedly throughout the underground, Harry sensed something was missing. It was an odd feeling really, and it appeared mutual. Neither felt the rush of a blooming affair, or the surge of adrenalin that spurs the body to quiver with sexual excitement, and yet they were comfortable with each other. _Maybe that is all there is for now_ , Harry thought, but he hoped there would be more.

# CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

_"If you're not outraged, you're not paying attention." -_ **Author Unknown**

Leaving the underground provided Harry with another kind of excitement. The experience resulted in the usual symptoms: palpitations of the heart, perspiration forming on skin, irregular and rapid breathing. If you could call fear of the unknown and anticipating danger around every corner reasons for ecstasy, Harry was ecstatic.

The journey to and from the underground shopping center required walking the dark streets of the city for about twenty blocks, and meant plenty of opportunity to be spied on and questioned by Cyber security. Together, Harry and Dar wound their way through the most isolated paths, deliberately trying to shake Barry's surveillance tails. Both were now experts in surreptitious movement, having been Touchables for several months now, and were confident they could make it back to The Watering Hole without incident.

.

As they arrived at back The Watering Hole, Harry and Dar observed two security cyberts entering the premises, leaving the door ajar behind them.

"What do we do, Harry?" Hissed Dar as she grabbed his arm and pulled him into the shadows.

"I don't know. Something!" Harry froze.

Dar started toward the doors. Harry grabbed her hand and pulled her back to him. "No, wait...You stay here. Hide!"

"No!" She whispered loudly. "I'm not hiding. Where you go, I go."

Both knew The Watering Hole had forty or fifty Touchables present at any given moment day or night. However, at peak times during special Touchable social events, there might be a hundred or more in the sanctuary.

"I want you safe! Please!" he pleaded with her as he directed her back into the blackness of the building shadows. "Stay there until I come for you. If I'm not back in ten minutes, get as far away from here as you can."

"But, Harry..."

He grabbed her shoulders and held her firmly. "Promise you'll do as I ask. Promise?"

She nodded reluctantly. He left her in the darkness and made his way toward the building's entrance. Dar waited and watched Harry as he made his way to the entrance via the darkest shadows.

With the bravado made of ignorance, he made his dash, zigzagging in and out of the shadows to get to the entrance. The slightly open door revealed flashes of light, muffled noises of protest and surprise. Then, screams.

The cyberts weren't asking the Bios to surrender! They were executing them on the spot! Harry hesitated for a moment to catch his breath, several feet away from the open doorway. Just as he did so, Desiree bolted from the doorway. A specialized pursuit cybertank on caterpillar treads was rapidly gaining on her. She saw Harry and cried out as she ran past him.

"Run! Harry! Run! Save yourself!"

She headed for the darkened alley as the cybertank's searchlight fell upon her, creating a silhouette against a blinding wall of light as she gave up the race. With nowhere to go, she stood there motionless until Harry grabbed for her, pulled her into the darkness between buildings and held her fast as she fell exhausted into his arms.

"Go away, Harry! Please!" She cried. She begged him to leave her as he dragged her further back to where he had left Dar. He knew— _he just knew_ \--that the cybert wouldn't fire on him.

Why had it allowed Desiree to pass unharmed? There had to be a more important target!

The cybertank positioned itself in a building's shadow, probably waiting for the cyberts inside to exit the building before destroying the entire structure.

Desiree was sobbing, tears streaming in rivers down her face. He had never seen her like this—so bruised and battered, blood pouring from several places on her head and upper body. Examining her wounds quickly, he was certain they looked worse than they were; with some first aid and a few stitches she'd be fine. Harry surmised that it must have taken her quite a struggle to get to the door. There must be many others who had not been so lucky.

"Easy. Take it easy. You're safe now."

He held her close, covering her sobs with his body. He was so glad he had found her again and relieved she was alive after witnessing The Watering Hole carnage. As he held her, a little more gently now to soothe her pain and fright, the gigantic shadows of four security cyberts glided by the alley's entrance without pause. Harry's heart skipped. He had forgotten the danger for an instant. _Have to watch that,_ he thought, but for some strange reason they seemed safe for the moment. _Surely the cyberts have heard the sobbing and his talking?_

"Are you all right? Are you hurt? What's going on in there?" He didn't even breathe between questions, but it made Desiree smile.

"I'm so glad to see you again," she smiled tenderly, exhausted. "How did you know, Harry? How did you know?"

She lapsed into unconsciousness for a moment, then suddenly terrified eyes wide open. Now passing in and out of consciousness, frantic when she awoke to the horrible reality Outside, Desiree clung to Harry as she spoke.

"They've found us... You've got to do something... You knew the cyberts wouldn't hurt us... You knew... You're the one they told us about, remember? Help us, please."

Unfortunately, as he was about to ask her who "they" were, she faded again and passed out. She was losing a lot of blood.

"That was very stupid, Harry," Dar whispered from the darkness, and waved them toward her.

Harry nodded and pulled Desiree toward Dar, who had taken a post just inside the entrance to the alley.

"I don't mean to break up this lovers' reunion, but we have a serious problem here." She eyed him suspiciously as he tore his own clothing into bandages to minister to her wounds.

"How did you know those cyberts that passed by wouldn't hurt us, Harry?" she asked.

"I'm not sure. I just knew the Cyber wouldn't harm us at that moment. I'm sorry I can't explain it. We don't really have time for this discussion."

The cybertank—now that was a problem. Harry knew it was specialized for something bigger than Bio flesh. _We're going to need more protection_ , he thought _._

"We seem to be safe here for the moment," Dar said, but motioned Harry and Desiree to move further into the shadows. His answer would do for now, but something just didn't feel right to her. "Strange, it doesn't seem all the Cyber have night vision," she said, more to calm herself than anything.

Dar watched Harry's back as he pulled Desiree further back into a narrow space between buildings, and motioned for her to follow.

"You'll be easy prey in there," whispered Dar. "Maybe you have a death wish, but I don't."

"Most cyberts use heat sensors to _see_ us. The buildings have a heat signature, too. If we wedge ourselves in tightly, the cyberts may not be able to detect us."

Dar stared at him in amazement.

"If you have a better idea, Dar, let's hear it," commanded Harry, showing some spunk after all.

"You must be part Shadow," she said as she broke the tension with a smile.

Wedged between the two buildings, she was painfully aware of being Outside—cold and dirty. No cozy feelings from SensaVision—just harsh ancient steel and prefab composite concrete. Dar stayed close to the two other Touchables as if she alone could protect them. She seemed relatively unmoved by the rejoining of two old friends.

While Harry looked after Desiree's wounds, Dar maintained a lookout where the shadow of the Cyber security force had passed. _How can I be so blind—so stupid to let this happen?_ she asked herself. _I should have known that I am one of Makr's pawns—like all other Bios_.

"What's happening?" Harry caught sight of movement in the shadows. The shadows themselves were moving as if blown by the wind, and then slithering along surfaces like a smoky snake.

"War." Desiree's voice had the timbre of defeat, monotonous, with barely enough breath to get the words out. "Pest removal. We're the pests, Harry. Makr's exterminating us, killing us... Executions... Lies... It's all been lies, Harry. Can't co-exist..."

Desperate Touchable voices from in and around The Watering Hole cried out for help. The cries became screams of horror that reverberated in the night as that help didn't appear to be coming. They knew soft flesh opposing hardened metal made it no contest.

_I can't save you_ , thought Harry. _Not Bios_. Suddenly he saw Bio eyes, human eyes floating suspended around him, moving like a school of fish. He tried to shake the hallucination but he couldn't. Desiree and Dar? He couldn't see them anywhere—just the tormented eyes staring back at him, pleading with him to save them.

Remembering the mechanical bees, he cried out, "I can't hurt machines! I can't hurt Cyber!" Unlike the bees that had enveloped his entire body, the school of eyes surrounded only his head so everywhere he turned, he saw them looking into his own eyes. The eerie wailing became deafening. As he grabbed his ears, there was silence for only a fraction of a second, then a voice, a gentle voice in his head that said:

"You must help them. It's all up to you."

"It can't be me. No human. Not one." He answered aloud. Dar and Desiree, puzzled, looked his way, but both were too weary or too frightened to react.

"Pest removal," echoed Dar. _Desiree has it right_ , she thought.

Desiree, more alert now, was having her own revelation. She was convinced Dar had had something to do with this. She had heard Dar say the cyberts didn't seem to have night vision. That was ridiculous! It was just the opposite. Of course they did. Dar had to know most security cyberts were equipped with infrared vision! _Any child Outside knows that. Why wouldn't Cyber security be able to see in the dark? It would be necessary for them to do their jobs._

She watched Dar who appeared to acting as a lookout _. Looking out for what?_ _Is she protecting us or guarding us? What are we waiting for? Why aren't we trying to kill the cyberts?_ she thought.

"Harry? Harry?" Harry was cringing in another corner. _Having one of those nightmares of his._ _I guess I always knew you were a coward,_ she thought disappointedly. _No worse than anyone else though._

Unlike Harry, she couldn't control her thoughts or her reality. She couldn't help knowing that Harry was a coward and Dar was collaborator or spy or similar. _I knew she wasn't ever going to be like us. I knew it! She's just guarding us until the properly modified cyberts arrive to take us prisoners or kill us._

A security cybert stepped into view behind Dar and fired his weapon at Harry and the others in the shadows. Missed.

The blast jolted Harry upright. _Miss? How can it miss us?_ Harry thought. A wall of the building next door on their right was partially obliterated, and the surrounding zone scorched and melted, oozing angry red brick and concrete lava. They were trapped—unable to move as rivulets of white-hot steel and molten rock splashed searing liquid at them as it surrounded them. Any escape would mean climbing over this fiery ring around them.

_It wants us alive for now,_ Harry thought. Then what? _If Cyber can see us even in the dark, where can we hide?_

Several Touchables from inside The Watering Hole managed to escape behind the cybert as it fired at the three in the shadows. The cybert now focused its attack on the escapees. One of them ran toward Harry, Dar and Desiree who were still helplessly trapped by the ring of fire.

Harry recognized him. Bob **!** The bright light explosion that followed propelled the trio back several yards. No one was running toward them now. Bob died instantly as his molecules were blasted into oblivion. Harry had never seen a man vaporized before. He knew he wouldn't forget the look of horror on the man's face the instant before. No second chance. No wound. No man. Nothing.

As their lava prison cooled and hardened, the trio was able to jump over it, with the remaining red-hot sludge radiating through their shoes, burning like bare feet would on hot coals.

Harry and Dar carried and dragged a defeated and weary Desiree down the street a short distance until they came to another narrow alley between two buildings. They hid there in the dark, Harry hoping selfishly that Cyber security would be distracted by the others escaping. He would be deserting and sacrificing his friends. He knew that was not right but he couldn't help himself. What else _could_ he do?

Cyber security wasn't distracted, but instead headed right for the trio.

"Run, Harry." Desiree pleaded. "Save yourself if you can."

He ignored her plea as he watched the panicked exit of fellow Touchables. Some were fighting back, but most were running away. _Why aren't they fighting back_?

"We have no chance, don't you understand?" begged Desiree. "No weapons! Those who are fighting might as well be dead already. They don't have a chance!"

"Who's controlling the Cyber?" Harry asked, but he knew the answer and spoke it aloud, bitterly, "There's no State, no human behind this! This is Makr and Makr alone!"

Desiree looked desperately at Dar for her help to save Harry, not as a rejected or scorned other woman, but with a pure, decent motive.

"You must leave! Run!" she implored Harry. When Harry didn't budge, "Save him," she whispered in a final plea to Dar. "You must save him! You owe him that much!"

_Desiree's out of her head,_ Harry thought _. Anyone might be if they had seen ten or twenty of their friends murdered before their eyes._

Harry shook his head as if to get rid of some of his conflicting thoughts, and started toward the Watering Hole entrance again. This time Desiree held him back. He let her light touch restrain him as he continued holding her. He looked again to the Watering Hole's entrance where a few Touchables were still scrambling out two or three at a time. Seven or eight had managed to escape and had run headlong into the darkness away from the buildings without looking back. It was then he saw his friend Barry.

He was firing some kind of ancient projectile weapon at the cyberts coming behind him, covering his comrades ahead who made it to the darkness. The two cyberts, firing blasters, zeroed in on Barry and deliberately avoided hitting him; instead, they disintegrated those Touchables he had been trying to save. Two bright flashes of light and they were gone...as if they had never been.

The cyberts stopped a nanosecond for Barry to notice. He did, and turned. When Barry turned back again, he saw Harry, in the dark alley with the two women. He nodded an approval of sorts. Harry thought the look a bit odd. He could see his lips move, then the look on his face became strangely peaceful, accepting. The two cyberts fired simultaneously. The familiar blinding flash of disintegrating white light!

The Cyber whirled away from Harry, Desiree and Dar, and continued firing at the people exiting the building, who were running right into the line of fire. Then it was quiet. Deathly quiet.

# CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

_"PerSoc, our perfect society, shall rule when darkness has fallen to the light_ **.** " **\- Makr, the One and Only**

The silence that represented an end of pain also signaled an end to Bio-Cyber co-existence, and perhaps, the beginning of an impossible revolution.

Why didn't I move? Why couldn't I? I wanted to save them. Save them all. Am I a coward?

Harry remembered the look in Barry's eyes—something he would never forget.

"I'm not worthy," he said aloud, keeping the rest to himself.

Dar looked back at Harry and Desiree for a split second and then continued her vigilant watch for Cyber coming toward them. The slaughter seemed almost complete. So far, the three of them had survived. _Because we hid._ Dar wondered _._ Smoke and debris drifted past them, covering the sun and temporarily darkening the sky until it was one giant shadow.

When the carnage complete, the cybert butchers filed out of the building in perfect military fashion. Harry noted that there were ten or fifteen mobile killing cyberts. Apart from a few security cyberts, none were types or models he'd seen before, or even knew existed! That meant Bios Inside didn't know them either. A wave of despair came over him as he happened on the truth—the truth he so desperately wanted: _These are cyberts created solely to kill Bios. Killing machines. Pure killing machines._

Harry slumped in defeat, his mind racing. _We are no threat to the world anymore! Surely no threat to Cyber efficiency! Makr has the nerve to judge us? Unbelievable! You spare us, Makr? Why? To witness the horrors you can unleash so easily?_

The last killer out fused the entrance with a blaster, melting the facade and door into molten rock and red-hot, glistening steel jelly. _Must be to keep in any wounded or barely alive Bios, but why?_ Harry wondered _._ _The cybertank will destroy anything that lives when the entire structure is reduced to rubble. So why do it now? Why waste resources tormenting the intended victims? Why?_

Physically stronger and more resolute now, Desiree clung tightly to Harry. Dar acknowledged in her heart that this was what the other woman had wanted all along. She'd been quietly keeping alert, and now suddenly searched through her purse. How could she have forgotten she had it? Not like it would have made a difference anyway. Ironically, she had expected to use the mini-blaster to persuade a few Outsiders to give her the information she needed to do her job. _Forget you, Makr! I'll not do your dirty work anymore._

Harry saw Dar reaching in her purse. He thought she, too, might be losing control.

"This is no time for make-up, darling...er...Dar," Harry said. What he saw looked like a make-up case.

She put it back inside her purse. "I guess I'm just a little jittery," she said, snapping her purse shut.

"We're all frightened," he said gently. "We've survived this long...who knows, we might make it after all."

Although only seconds had passed, hiding and waiting in the shadows seemed infinitely longer. It was getting hard to breathe without breathing too hard, too fast, and too loud. Harry knew something about hyperventilating. They had to wait until the way was clear—totally clear of Cyber.

Whirrrrrrr!! Whoooosh!! "Warning! Warning!" The women gasped. Harry knew that sound.

A street cleaner cybert whisked by on a magnetic layer, dissolving and vaporizing dust and dirt. _Road kill and Touchable remains,_ thought Dar _. All the same now!_

"Streets must be clear. Clear the streets for cleaning. Remove all essential obstacles." The cleaning cybert's urgent voice meant it had noticed their presence, but its capacity for thinking was not as well developed as most menial labor cyberts. It would suck and dissolve what human pieces remained, however small. To the cybert, they were merely obstacles, obstructions to cleaning. The small cybert sprayed a cleaning solution to dissolve a pool of blood, sucked it inside and exhaled a harmless white vapor.

"Step aside. Just stay out of its way. It's not interested in us," Harry said calmly and quietly so as not to be sensed by another cybert that might have been be interested. Dar took advantage of the distraction to take that _something_ out of her purse.

Harry rubbed his face and ran his fingers through his hair. He needed to think. Decide what to do and how to act. But he was afraid to act, afraid he would freeze when others were depending on him. How could he forget the slaughter of innocent, loving, giving, and sharing people? He was done with Makr's world as he knew it. There had to be something better, but he didn't know what that was.

"Harry." Desiree had battled her grief and seemed almost anxious to get into the fray. "There is something else you should know. Someone gave us away," she confided. "A traitor!"

"What!"

"Maybe it's too late already. Barry suspected it was the woman who knew a lot about Cyber—especially the main cyberserver. I'm sorry, I..."

"It doesn't matter now anyway."

She looked at Dar with accusing eyes. Harry didn't notice; he seemed preoccupied, staring straight ahead to find the answers in front of him, which were not there.

"Harry!" Desiree whispered loudly to gain his attention, but he had been paying attention all along.

He just didn't want to accept it. "You mean the programmer who planted Donna's file was the traitor?" All that sounded too easy.

"The same." Desiree continued to throw sharp looks - spears really - at Dar. Harry finally noticed, but it was too late.

Monstrous Shadows, as tall as a three-story building, blocked the light coming from the street. It was still more Cyber security—three of Makr's most sophisticated cyberts—the meanest "gunslingers of Tombstone"—moving toward the fugitives who retreated deeper into the darkest shadows.

"Harry Bolls, you are under arrest. Come out or we'll fire," Wyatt Earp commanded. Harry saw no options, and started forward hesitantly.

"No!" Desiree cried and, using the last of her adrenaline surge, hauled him back and pushed him behind her.

"I love you, Harry!" She launched herself forward at the Cyber trio of terror.

Two of the cyberts fired their weapons. A bright light. Desiree was gone. Like Bob, like Barry and all the others.

Harry, blinded by the bright light and his own tears, rushed forward, screaming, taunting the Devil's demonic cyberts as Desiree would have done.

"No!" He screamed. "NO! NOT HER!!" His face reddened with rage, and tears streamed down his face as he fell to his knees, sobbing. He didn't care about much else at that moment. _Let them kill me_ , he thought. _I'm not much good here anyway._ Before that could happen, though, something in Harry snapped. He had strength enough to die. He taunted them just the same.

"No one has the right to kill! Not even you, Makr! Come and get me you blowhard piece of crap!" He waited for them to kill him as he danced around them.

The cyberts stood without making a move to lift their weapons. Two bright lights. A third. Then, a fourth. Harry was looking at the street lit up ahead. The street cleaner cybert whooshed by a second time, vaporizing trash particles left over from the cyberts who had been vaporized a fraction of a second before.

Then, an explosion big enough to knock Harry and Dar off balance and to the ground. The streetlights flickered and stayed on brighter than before. The three killer cyberts were a frozen tableau a few yards away as a powdery shower of exploded street and building fragments fell to the ground. Harry and Dar coughed and dusted themselves off, as they stood virtually unhurt by the blast.

It wasn't over as another blast that made the earth tremble, came this time from the cybertank. The blast had fused part of the wall behind Dar, and the less flexible, previously unaffected concrete above collapsed. Now, she was covered in the concrete and steel debris.

Harry rushed to her side. _Thank Makr she's alive!_ Harry frantically tried to remove all the scraps of metal and concrete holding Dar captive.

She groaned, obviously in pain, unable to move. He checked to see if it was more than the shockwave that had hurt her. Seeing no wound, he continued picking out the debris. _No bones sticking out from the flesh. Careful, there could be internal injuries, he told himself._

"Did you love her, Harry?"

Dar turned her face away from him, mostly to hide her tears, but she couldn't bear to face him now. He was so good...so right for these people. _Too bad he doesn't have a chance._

"Let's take care of you now." She grabbed his hand and squeezed, demanding answer. "I honestly don't know. I know I cared deeply."

Freeing her from the debris was going to take a while.

"Hang in there, Dar. I'll have you free in a minute."

She was looking better already. "You should leave, Harry. Leave while you can."

Harry didn't budge. Instead, he continued to remove concrete and other debris he could lift. _She may come out unscathed, except for a few bruises, after all. Although that would do her no good if the cyberts find her trapped here._

She continued, "My name isn't Dar."

Harry stopped for a second, then, struggled to move more rubble to free her. He spied her mini-blaster and held it in his palm.

"My real name is Marlene Hess. I work for the State—Inside, or at least I did."

Harry could only look into her eyes, confused and hurt.

"I'm sorry, Harry. I truly am." She couldn't help the sobbing, her body heaved uncontrollably. The tears she shed were real, the pain deep.

"There, you're free now." He helped her up. The smile he usually had for her was gone. "So you were the programmer—the plant."

"Yes." Pause. She sniffed.

"Was seeing me part of your plan?"

"At first, yes. You were the target, but not..."

"A lot of good people died here tonight." His voice was even and his emotion buried.

"The best."

"You're responsible?"

"Yes. I killed them all." Her voice was flat, but the flatness couldn't mask a sympathetic and guilt-ridden woman. She didn't really fear what was coming next. She knew she deserved it.

Harry held up her own weapon and pointed it at her. She closed her eyes and waited.

"Go ahead. Please. I know I deserve it."

Angrily, he aimed it at her for less than a second, shaking his head, unable to hold the weapon steady, denying his ability to kill another Bio. Even one that was a traitor!

"Why! Why! Why!" he exploded.

He swung the weapon around again, this time finding the street cleaner cybert they had ignored earlier and blasting it instead. The cybert's red light sensor seemed to have been looking directly at him when he fired. Was that a warning or indicator light that the laser was about to fire on him? Street cleaners were specialized cyberts; they were not known to fire at Bios or anything not garbage. Until now. Maybe Harry was garbage after all.

"How about that? I can kill a toaster." He turned in time to see four more cyberts, armed and deadly, heading straight for him _. Why don't they fire? Why don't they kill me?_

There was a blinding light, followed by a shockwave. Harry and Dar were knocked to the ground senseless, but alive.

# CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

_"The weak have one weapon: the errors of those who think they are strong."_ **\- Author Unknown**

There was no rest for Harry, not even while he was unconscious. His bad dreams returned—a series of episodes. This time each episode was progressively more violent, painful, and fearful. All episodes had the same underlying theme: Bios destroying Cyber. As usual, he felt what appeared to be the cybert's agony until a strange thought interrupted and distracted him from his pain. _Why would Cyber suffer? Why would they purposefully equip themselves with a negative?_

With this thought-blink, the pain went away. Frustrated and confused, he was angry at himself for not thought-blinking sooner. However, he was even more confused as he heard an angry female voice thunder in his head.

"You can't keep her here! She gave them away. You heard her. We all heard her. She killed them! She can kill us, too!"

"No, she stays!" It was a firmer, more authoritative voice, a male voice. "We need to know more. She is human after all."

"How can we be sure? We all know Makr makes new cyberts every day. Why not ones that look exactly like humans?"

The man didn't appear to listening. He heard her, and he had wondered the same himself, but now he decided was not the time to debate the question.

The woman grabbed his arm. He tensed, sending her a warning signal through his Stealth.

"What if it's a trap, Carlos?" she asked. "What if she's a Bio-Cyber operative? Insiders have done it before."

"We've dealt with spies and traitors before, haven't we?" He had dealt with them as harshly as possible. They died slowly.

"Don't worry—we won't be looking over our shoulders for these two." He didn't enjoy treating the spies and traitors to painful deaths, but he had to maintain discipline in the Nest.

"We can't afford any more mistakes, Cap'n," said another man's rough gravelly voice.

Carlos bristled. "What?"

"The lieutenant's right," the rough voice continued. "We don't want no more mistakes. We know what you done in your last command."

"Tell me about it. How do you mean that, Sergeant Leach?" he said as he grabbed the smaller, wiry, younger man by the front of his garment and raised him several inches off the ground.

Quivering, the smaller man said, "Nuttin', Cap'n. Forget I said it. I didn't mean it." Carlos let him drop.

The little man retreated, scurrying out of reach, and said, "Don't think we don't know why you joined this sector, Captain. We had you checked out." He looked around him for support. The faces were blank, covered by darkness and black fabric.

"We don't need a repeat of what happened. Right, guys? Guys?"

He turned to see nods of agreement; they were black ice figures—Shadows frozen in Stealth.

"Say something, you cowards!" he shouted.

"Are you questioning my decisions now, Sergeant?"

"Well, no...Cap'n, it's just..."

"Then, shut up!"

The smaller man backed down. "I still don't like it, Cap'n."

"Noted, Sergeant!" Then he said loudly, "If you're thinkin' mutiny, be very careful to do the job right." Then quietly, moving close to his sergeant's ear, he whispered a growl. "Mother-General made me take you on as my top sergeant because of your combat experience, but cross me, undermine my authority, step out of line once more, and there won't be enough of you for the cleaner cyberts to dissolve and disintegrate. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yessir. Very clear."

"Don't think I won't do it, Leach."

Leach faded back into the shadows of the abandoned building they had discovered recently. _Obviously plotting his next move,_ thought Carlos. _Okay, so it wasn't such a good idea to bring the strangers here. What place is safe from Makr's Cyber goons anyway? We'll just have to keep a close eye on them._

As Harry tried to move, his entire body was racked with pain. He couldn't help but moan.

"Save them. I've got to save them," he mumbled weakly.

"Can't. Won't happen...they're all dead." There was that voice of authority again. "Don't try moving for a while. If there are other survivors, you can't do anything for them now."

Harry tried opening his eyes, but the glare was too bright. He closed them again. An awareness that people were around him. His friends? _No, they're all dead..._

"No! Not all!" Harry struggled to sit up so he might look around him.

"I'm afraid your Touchable friends are dead. All except one other besides yourself. A woman."

_Dar must have made it. But everyone else? Desiree!_ He remembered, and felt intense sadness welling up inside him. His head reeling, he lay back down.

"Where am I?" he asked with his eyes closed.

"In Hell. A living Hell they tell me."

"I thought I was just there," he mumbled, not very coherent.

"Welcome to the real world. You're in an abandoned Cyber assembly factory. I apologize for the cold metal table, but it is the best we could do on such short notice."

He said it all with a bitter and cold sarcasm that was foreign to Harry, who had never experienced such a complex display of emotion.

"What! Where are we? Who are you?"

Harry started up when he heard the "cold, metal table" of his nightmares, but the room spun and he couldn't gain his equilibrium. A firm hand caught him and forcefully shoved him back down.

"Turn the lights down," his captor ordered another.

Harry opened his eyes now to see a man dressed in rags with a hood covering his head and closed around his face so that a shadow hid his features. Harry noticed the awful smell first...then the uncommon itchiness of the fabric before realizing he himself was covered in similar rags to those covering his captor from head to toe. The putrid odor given off by the coarse material covering his face nearly gagged him. He pulled some of the nasty fabric from his mouth so he could talk.

"I said, 'who are you?'" Harry insisted.

"I heard you the first time," was the reply. "Who we are doesn't matter. Who _you_ are does. I've never seen anyone survive a cybert-attack like that without shields or major weapons. So the fact that two of you survived interests me greatly."

"Lucky, I guess. Dar? Where's Dar?"

"Here," another worried and weary voice said. "I'm okay."

"Where are you?"

"Over here..."

"Are you all right?"

"I will be, I think."

Harry raised up enough to see the man surrounded by others dressed alike in what appeared to be black burlap rags with hoods. No faces. Shadow People! _Oh, Makr!_ He moved to get up quickly, but a rough hand grabbed him by the throat, forced him back down, and held him there.

"How do we know you and the woman aren't responsible for what happened there?" demanded Leach. He had apparently, not ventured far, and held him down by the throat. "Why didn't the cyberts destroy you like all the rest?"

"I don't know." Harry wheezed the words out. "I really don't know."

"Release him, Sergeant," Carlos ordered.

The sergeant let Harry drop back on the table, but didn't take his eyes off him. "It didn't look like you were trying very hard to save the others," he interjected.

"How? What could I have done?"

"Anything," Carlos said. "You should have tried to do something—or died trying."

"I know. I wanted to. I just couldn't move."

"Typical Touchable trash. Cowards all of 'em!" This was the sergeant again. "How does it feel to turn on your own kind? Your lady friend there said she was responsible, but I'd still like to know why the cyberts didn't kill you both. They just froze like maybe you were working with them."

"Stay out of this, Leach," Carlos commanded. "Do something constructive. Take Piggot with you and go get the scanner ready. Take it some place relatively safe, okay? Deep and dark."

Leach turned and signaled Piggot to follow.

The two Shadows left without ceremony, save for Leach's disgusted shake of his head. His hatred was not aimed at the newcomers, but at Carlos.

_Not like last time,_ Leach thought. _Last time you nearly got us all killed. Damn working cybert factory next door and you didn't know it! So much for military intelligence._

Harry tried to get up again, but it was Carlos who shoved him back down this time. "But..."

"Stay down and keep your hands where I can see them. If you don't answer my questions to my satisfaction, I just might throw you back to the Cyber buzzards. Let a cleaner cybert dissolve you alive like it does any other garbage it finds on the streets. After all, we have to keep the place clean for the factory cyberts. Wouldn't want to clog up a Cyber factory's efficiency."

When his top sergeant was out of earshot, Carlos looked around to see that except for his lieutenant, the rest of his people had faded back into the shadows far enough from earshot as well. _No point stirring them up until we know more._

His voice was almost kind. "Look, I don't really mean that. There's no need to be afraid. We're all human here. If you did betray them, you couldn't help yourselves. Makr affects people that way. We just like to know where we stand."

Harry just stared. They didn't look human. Well except for the basic form. The shadowy forms reminded him of the Grim Reaper, a character that appeared in some of his ancient vids in his secret collection. It was a symbol of Death. If these dark creatures were indeed Shadow People, he knew he should fear for his life. A part of him wanted to deny the fearful images for the moment. Whoever these people were, they had saved his and Dar's lives today.

"I'm Harry. This is Dar...er, Marlene."

Dar/Marlene lay propped up so she could see and hear what was going on with Harry and the dark, mysterious Outsider.

"What's an Insider like you doing Outside without protection?"

"Not insiders anymore. We're Touchables. At least I am—was," Harry volunteered.

"Sure you are..." The man didn't seem to believe him. He turned on Marlene. "Which is it, Dar or Marlene?"

"Her real name is Marlene. Dar's her nickname," Harry lied quickly, but this was not the time to explain. Carlos' scowl seemed to indicate he didn't seem to believe him anyway.

"But it's true!" Harry insisted.

"If it's true, why did you lead the cyberts to the Watering Hole?"

"We didn't. At least, I don't think we did." Pause. "Hey, wait a minute! You know about the Watering Hole? You're the friends they talked about—the Others."

He nodded. "Well, not us exactly—not my sector until recently." He walked over to one of the black figures. "Kieran, get them some water, will you?

He touched his hood, "Perimeter? Any sign yet?"

"It was bound to happen anyway sooner or later," Lieutenant Kieran O'Shea offered. "Those Touchables don't have guts enough to fight a real war. Pacifists, the whole lot of them."

Kieran had struck a nerve.

Harry couldn't hold back. "Those 'pacifists,' as you call them, were my friends! They're all dead now—no thanks to you. Where were you when the attack started?"

Carlos gave Kieran a disapproving look and signaled her to go after the water.

"What makes you think we're under any obligation to save you?" he said. "We were on the other side of the quadrant—if it's any of your business—which it isn't." _If they are spies, it is too late now anyway._

"Okay, so let's say you're who you say you are," he continued. "Maybe you _are_ Touchables. That still doesn't excuse your friend here. Talks in her sleep. Said she is responsible. Traitors still."

Harry was determined that no one should take her away for any reason until he knew the truth. Her version of the truth anyway.

"We're all responsible for letting the Cyber get the better of the human race," said Harry.

"Profound, isn't he? That's certainly hard to argue with, but that still doesn't answer my question." Carlos' calm demeanor faded fast. "Who are you? What's your mission?" he demanded.

"Mission? We're just a couple of Bios trying to survive! We'd just come back from the underground market."

"A good answer. Except we don't like the term 'Bio' around here. Makr created it. Got any proof from the market?"

"We ate it."

"What'd you buy?

"I don't know."

"You don't know?"

"I'm new at this," Harry exclaimed exasperated. "It was food. Flat bread rolled up with meat, rice and beans in it."

Kieran arrived with a canteen full of water and offered it to both Harry and Marlene as Carlos continued his interrogation. "Makr may have created our society, but not us. Maybe you are a Cyber spy..."

Harry frowned and asserted himself. "Or, maybe we're a couple of Makr worshippers!"

That was it! Carlos had reached his limit.

"I've about had it with your evasiveness!" he exploded. "We don't have time for this shit!"

With unbelievable speed, his rough hands clutched and squeezed Harry's throat with a vice-like grip. It seemed Carlos was trying to force the life out of him. This time, Kieran put a hand on his shoulder, pulling him back until Carlos released his death grip. He pulled himself away from Harry.

"As you can see, I'm not exactly a patient man; I've too much on my mind lately."

Carlos' voice had taken on a quiet, serious tone—which made him seem most dangerous.

"I am responsible for a lot of people, and I can't have cowardly, retarded Touchables wasting my time, let alone rout out spies. There's too much to be done."

He let Harry fall back to his prone position.

"I'm beginning to feel like a jack-in-a-box," Harry said, trying to put on a happy face.

"Scanner's ready, Captain," reported Leach, sounding a bit more respectful.

"Okay, let's do it. Sergeant! Blindfold, gag them and tie their hands. Lieutenant, change the lookouts and meet us at the scanner's location!"

Lieutenant Kieran O'Shea faded into the shadows and disappeared.

Again, Carlos' voice was restrained, but serious. "You're hiding something," he asserted, mostly for Leach's benefit. As he looked at both of his prisoners, eerie red beads of light glowed beneath his Stealth cowl. "And I'm going to find out what it is."

His top sergeant stood next to Harry and hid a self-satisfied smile as he saw his captain taking charge of the situation with more zeal—all, of course, the result of his wiser sergeant's prodding and tougher brand of leadership.

"We really ought to question the girl alone, Cap'n," he said threateningly, so near the male prisoner's ear that his breath moved the tiny hairs inside it. Harry couldn't help but smell Leach's revolting breath.

"In time, Leach. When I'm ready. Get them out of here! Meet us at the scanner location. Now! That's an order."

Carlos and Kieran left the immediate area, opened a door in the back of the abandoned building and closed it tightly behind them.

"You heard the man! Move them out of here." _We'll get them out of here for you, Carlos,_ thought Leach _. But not before we have some fun! This captain needs a lesson in leadership. I'll show him how to get answers, and I'll have fun doing it, too._

# CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

_"Rape is the only crime in which the victim becomes the accused."_ **\- Freda Adler**

After holding a short conference with the remaining Shadows, one of them pulled Harry to his feet, holding him upright, arms behind his back; while another taped his mouth shut and bound his wrists with some kind of wire. Two others did the same with Dar/Marlene. She struggled painfully as Sergeant Leach forced her wrists behind her. He tried to hold her wrists together with one hand while keeping his other hand free, but found her strength deceiving for one so slender.

"Why the struggle, Sweetheart?"

The sergeant's hoarse and gravelly voice was intimidating, frightening even. His grip was strong, but she held her ground and seemed more willing to die rather than submit.

"I thought all you Touchables liked to be touched," he barked through his clinched and rotting teeth.

As he yanked the tape from her mouth, she growled, "Not by the likes of you."

"You bitch," he answered, and punctuated his retort with his backhand across her face.

Harry fought his bonds to help his "former" friend, but it was useless. His bindings held his hands together so tight they hurt. So pumped with adrenalin, he didn't realize the thin wire had cut badly into his wrists in his struggle to free himself. Each movement of his wrist punished him with sharper pain.

However, the severe pain had not quelled his desire to help Dar. He _could_ kill these human animals—even if he couldn't destroy a machine!

Meanwhile, Leach managed to work his left hand to cup Dar's right breast and forced his right hand between her legs as one of his men held her arms back and another ripped her legs apart.

"Touch me there again and I'll kill you, you stinking bastard!" she warned as she struggled helplessly, "I'll kill you!"

Her words sent him into a rage, and he hit twice more in the face.

"Hold her tighter," he ordered the strongest of his team. "The rest of you hold her feet."

The squat, muscular Shadow, Piggot, held both of her arms behind her back while Leach yanked her garment loose and tore off her bra to bare her breasts. He grabbed her tender globes roughly with both hands, and without warning, nuzzled them with his coarse beard, then licked and sucked on the erect nipples.

A cold shiver swept over Marlene. Her eyes glazed over as Leach pushed her down on the table, jumped up with her and covered her body with his. He waved the others away. His stinking breath gagged her. His clumsy pawing was easier to deflect since he wasn't as strong as those who were holding her. She fought back for a moment, but then stopped moving altogether, stopped responding as if she was oblivious to it all. _Let him get pleasure from a corpse_ , she thought to herself.

In her way, she was already a corpse, dead to herself, but with her eyes of hatred no longer focused on herself and the results of her betrayal, she did not find herself as despicable as the inhuman monster that was molesting her. She realized her struggle wouldn't help anyone and she blamed herself for what was happening to her now. She kept telling herself she was getting what she deserved for killing all of those people whose only crime had been a desire for a peaceful chance to co-exist with the Cyber.

She saw Harry's wild eyes that were desperate to communicate with her, even though he couldn't speak. _Dar! Don't give in. Fight him!_

Harry?

Harry was immediately pushed to the ground and kicked several times until he had covered his head with his arms and lay unmoving in a fetal position. His captors stopped kicking and raised him up again to watch their sergeant's debauchery.

For Harry then, she decided. Her corpse came to life again. Alert and confident, she would do what had to be done even if it killed her. Why not? _Living with the innocent Bio deaths will be hard enough_ , she reasons, _but how can I live knowing I let this scum have me without a fight?_

Harlan Leach saw a change in her eyes that seemed to signal that she was enjoying the moment. She wanted him. He couldn't have been more mistaken.

Harry's sharp bindings made his struggle to free himself futile. His ribs and guts ached now. He had never known this kind of pain. What he did know is that it was real. He bucked and strained at the wires but only managed to deepen the painful cuts he already had and was now bleeding profusely from his wrists. Although weak from the loss of blood, he moved enough, an inch or two, so he and Dar or Marlene could see each other. He hoped she could see his pleading in his eyes: _Don't give in to them! Don't do this!_

_I have to,_ her eyes told him _. Look, where you are when I need you the most,_ she seemed to answer. _Look what I've done to you, too._ She smiled the strangest smile _...But I can't help it. I can't..._

Leach yanked off the tape covering her mouth.

Dar ignored the pain and changed her look of hate into one of desire. She smiled at the loathsome monster.

"Not like this, Sergeant! Not like this!"

Shaken by her unexpected response, Leach stopped his clawing and maneuvering and stared at her through slit beady eyes as he jumped off the table. His obvious intention was to regain his steely composure and hop back on.

"Kiss me. C'mon kiss me, Sergeant," she cooed. He started for her again, but she stopped him again, "Untie me and I'll make it worth your while."

Leach laughed. "Do you think I'm that stupid?"

"That's okay," she answered calmly. "I think it's sexy to be tied. Leave my hands then. Or just my feet—so I can spread easier for you. I can't wait to have you inside me."

"Really?"

"Really," she said, keeping her disgust buried.

Although still eyeing her suspiciously, Leach took wire cutters from inside his Stealth cloak and cut her bindings. He moved quickly to kiss her hard on the mouth. She felt her teeth about to break from the pressure of his tongue, trying to force its way in. She held back the nausea as he continued pressing his filthy mouth to hers. She relaxed a moment to let his vile tongue in. As soon as she felt his organ swirling in her oral cavity, she cut short his pleasure and bit down hard on his tongue—harder than she had ever bitten any piece of meat.

He screamed and fought frantically to escape the woman's incisors until he abandoned about an inch of his tongue still in her mouth. Blood gushed from his mouth; flesh, blood and vomit erupted from hers. As he sputtered and spat, she rained more vomit and blood, covering him in a sickening pink and brown slush.

As if that wasn't enough, she brought her freed knee up in his groin as he was breaking away from her. He fell to his knees in agony, not knowing which body part to grab. His mouth or his balls—each a torture unto itself.

Piggot, who had come back into the room upon hearing the cries, took in the bloody scene with horror.

Leach signaled to him and screeched something unintelligible.

"What?" Piggott asked.

Leach points to the prisoners and screeches again.

Confused, Piggot shouted, "What do you want me to do?"

All Leach could do was spit up blood.

Piggot pulled away from him in horror as if he had been burned with hot oil instead of being spattered with his comrade's blood. _I didn't like the idea anyway. Orders is orders,_ the corporal thought. Once he recovered from the shock of seeing all the blood spouting forth, he bent down to see if he could help Leach, hating the man, but feeling helpless except to obey the orders of his sergeant.

Leach lay writhing in pain, moaning, forming words with great difficulty, "Uh beech id it! Uh beech id it!" Apparently, it was very difficult to make the t" or "d" sounds without all of his tongue.

Hearing the commotion, Carlos and Kieran rushed back in to find Leach thrashing about on the floor and Piggot standing to one side dumbfounded.

"What's going on here?" Carlos screamed. Then, seeing Leach writhing on the ground, "What do you think you're doing?"

"He's lucky I didn't kill him." Marlene's self-satisfied voice was hoarse, even and unwavering, occasionally still spitting blood and saliva. Blood covered her chin and neck. Defiantly, she raised her once angelic face, dripping with Leach's blood, to find Carlos' laser ax against her cheek.

"Looks like you tried," he said, a bit calmer and chagrined.

"Also looks like he deserved it, Carlos," added Kieran. "Worm!"

"You sure?"

"Look at her! Leach pulled her clothes off," she said to Carlos.

She turned to Marlene, and spoke more gently as a woman who had been there before. As she helped her back into her smelly garb, she said softly, "You gave him his due. If you ask me, most of them deserve worse than that. Survivors. Animals more likely. What's your real name, honey?"

"Marlene," she said, eyeing the other woman suspiciously, as she tried to help her adjust herself. "I'll be all right," she snapped. "I can take care of myself."

"Suit yourself," Kieran said, turning and offering the canteen to Harry.

He shook his head as if to say, _Give it to her. Let her drink first._

_Not interested_ , said Kieran's stiff posture as she drank deeply, not taking her cold, dark blue eyes off the female captive.

She offered it to Harry once more. As he leaned forward for her to take his gag off, she pulled back the offer. Almost simultaneously, with the withdrawn offer of the canteen, she pulled her knife and ran the cold, sharp, flat blade over his cheek, down his chest and abdomen. She smiled at the fear in his eyes.

"I bet you're not much better than him. Are you?"

Her smile disappeared as she noticed Harry's blood pooling on the floor. Suddenly all business, she pulled a pair of homemade wire cutters from inside her cloaks and snipped the wires that bound his wrists. She ripped a piece of Harry's cloak, cleaned and examined the wounds, then after ripping two small strips from her own cloak, wrapped them tightly around his wrists.

"We'll clean your wounds later, but that'll stop the bleeding for now."

Thanks, Harry nodded, noting that he was no longer tied up.

"Don't thank me. Leach deserved everything he got. We need you and your partner here alive for the moment. Stay calm and you might live. Try to escape and we'll find you."

Harry wasn't planning to escape—not for the moment anyway. He wouldn't stand a chance in his current physical shape, and he couldn't bring himself to leave Dar here alone despite what she'd done.

Carlos didn't look at Harry, but directed his attention to the filthy man writhing at his feet.

"What's the matter, Leach? Didn't expect a human female to fight so hard? You should have kept to the sex cyberts; they don't bite back unless you want them to."

The man sputtered, still screeching unintelligible words without the most important part of his tongue. As he tried to rise up, Carlos held him down with his boot.

"I'll kill you, Beeth! Beeth! I'll kill you, Beeth! Caros! I kill you, too!"

Carlos shook his head as he held Leach in the submissive position.

"You aren't going to kill anyone, Leach. In fact, I should let her go so she can kill you herself."

He released Leach so he could raise himself upright. As the man came up, he immediately lunged after Marlene. Instead, Carlos backhanded him, sending him several feet away.

"That's for not obeying orders."

Then, one kick per statement: "That's for exposing her. That's for exposing us." A kick to his kidneys in his lower back. "That's because you're stupid." A kick to his midsection. "That's because you're ugly." A kick to the groin. He kicked Leach several more times until he scurried off into the shadows and disappeared.

"Find him." Carlos barked. "Take his Stealth—and his shield."

Kieran nodded, signaled to two others, and went after him.

"He'll die out here without them," said one of the remaining Shadow guards.

"So? Want to be next? You stood there and watched him do this. These Touchables survived without Stealth, no thanks to him. He can have it on their terms. We don't need his kind here. Let's see if any of the other Touchable groups will offer that scumbag any protection."

He turned and looked at his captives.

"Oh, take the tape off them. They can't give away our position without getting themselves killed."

"They will, you know," Harry said when he was finally able to make his mouth work after being taped shut. "They'll take him in."

"Yeah, I know. Poor, kind-hearted slugs. Your partner here should have killed him. We can't use him anymore. He can't be trusted."

Harry looked at Marlene. "Are you all right?"

"I will be."

"Sorry," Carlos said to her. "Sergeant Leach—he's one of the more desperate ones, but he was a good soldier _once_. Unfortunately, we can't be too picky out here. We need all the bodies we have. Makr keeps the need for replacements high."

There were screeches and shrieks in the distance.

"Leach," he said. "They've caught him. I guess he doesn't like being without his Stealth or his shield."

There was a bright light in the distance. No more screams. Carlos shrugged his shoulders.

"He fought hard, but not hard enough. It's just as well. He'd be a danger to anyone wherever he landed."

"Hard justice," commented Harry.

"Hard justice? When he exposed your friend here, he exposed us, and I mean that literally. Cyberts track mostly with heat detectors. Some of their weaponry targets a heat source. That would be us—including you and any of your precious Touchables—whoever happens to be Outside at the moment. Our butt ugly clothes protect us from detection. Leach was a beast. He deserved what he got. He was killed, not because he was a beast, but because he gave our location away. Remember that."

"Still, it does seem rather harsh."

"It would probably be best if you also remembered you are our guests and that we're beasts, too. That man would have killed you in a heartbeat and you want justice for him? He doesn't deserve it. Few of his kind do. But some among us are decent folk. Most of these soldiers, who you know as Shadow People, we picked up off the streets; Makr's rejects, or survivors - you decide. They were lost without Makr. At some point in their sheltered, controlled life Inside, they found a reason to leave and abandon that life forever. They had enough courage and cunning to escape the cyberts long enough for us to find them. They're desperate, all right, like all of us out here. We're the devil's survivors in Makr's Hell."

"What are you going to do with us, Captain?"

Carlos didn't answer immediately. Harry sensed there was some honor with this leader. At least, for all his gruff, he was honest.

"I know we're an enigma to you," Harry continued, "but we are no threat to you. This whole experience is frightening. The cyberts just killed all our friends and we feel responsible because we weren't killed, too."

"Guilt can sure cripple a person, can't it?"

"I have a feeling you know that answer first hand," Harry said gently.

"Maybe."

"Can she have some water?"

"Yeah, sure." As he approached her, the smell was too much. "Whew! What a stench!" Carlos almost laughed. "Good thing Cyber can't track us by scent."

"Judging from what you say, Cyber are capable of anything after a time," she said, almost smiling at the irony.

"Yeah...well, that's true, but I don't like to think about it." He shook his head, and started laughing to change the subject. "That's got to taste nasty."

His tone became more serious. "Didn't know a tongue would bleed so much." He handed the canteen to one of men holding Harry. "Give her some of that water, will you?"

To Harry: "If I leave you untied, will you promise to co-operate? Your lives depend on it. We have some things we have to do, and we don't have the luxury of time to drag you kicking and screaming."

"How do we know you won't just kill us anyway?"

"You don't."

"Thanks for saving me back there," Marlene said, more alive than before after washing out her mouth.

"You handled yourself well. We could use a fighter like you." He grinned inside his Stealth and turned to Harry: "You? I don't know about. I don't know if you can fight yet."

"Just don't try to kiss me," Harry replied, which the entire group seemed to find amusing. Even Carlos broke a smile although it couldn't be seen through his hooded face. _A real charmer, this one,_ Carlos thought _. A diplomat. Too bad this war won't be won by diplomats, or politicians for that matter. Hell, diplomats got us in this mess._

Two hooded figures found their way to Carlos, and handed him Leech's stinking garments. The Shadows seemed to be talking but only Carlos and his men were privy to the conversation.

"Take the point and get ready to move out." They acknowledged by dipping their Shadows in a flowing sort of bow and departed.

"Apparently, Leach managed to get away, but not with his Stealth. Here, put these on," he said to Harry. "Sorry about the smell."

"See if you can't cover your entire body with these," he said to Marlene, gesturing to the ones that had covered them earlier. "Maybe there's enough left to cover every piece of skin."

Marlene nodded and started sorting through the reeking material.

"And hurry. We haven't much time."

Both had a hard time believing there was anything beneficial in wearing the Stealth garments stinking with body odor, but they covered themselves anyway. Several Shadows attended to them to ensure they were covered properly. A single hole could give them all away.

"I know we look scary," Carlos said, "but that's just the protective clothing; it makes us invisible to detection by ordinary Cyber. Makr doesn't seem to be able to detect us when we have it on. Who knows how long we'll be able to keep up the Stealth?"

"Why did you save us?" Harry was determined to make logical sense out of this.

"I don't know. Maybe it's because I don't like to see any humans die needlessly—even rather worthless ones."

"Are they all dead—those in the building there?"

"Sad to say, yes. All but you and the woman. Enough talk. Let's get off the surface before the cyberts come to investigate a definite Bio heat source in the area."

Harry couldn't stop thinking about the man Carlos sent out to die. Even though he may have deserved it, it was still a shock to see a human treated that way by another. "What did he mean? I heard him...he said he knew what you did before. Mind if I ask what that was?"

"Yes, I do mind. By the way, that heat source I mention—that would be the former Sergeant Leach. Cyber don't let scattered body molecules cool too much." He let that sink in. "If I were you, I wouldn't ask that question again or you could end up the same way."

# CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

_"No one is more miserable than the person who wills everything and can do nothing."_ **\- Claudius**

_The Master would not be pleased. At least the last Bio in this position had had spunk._ However, Marlene's connection was long gone. _She was probably one of them now,_ Makr thought. He knew new State Prosecutor, Winston Salem, was a born-again—tedious and dull, but He didn't know that Salem was smarter than he seemed. However, the Master always got what the Master wanted. In this case, it was an unimaginative Bio perspective.

With Makr's vast knowledge, He perceived His analyst as a dullard with hard-to-read emotions. He couldn't understand it; _the Bio had scored high in the ability to read Bio behavior. He should have been perfect. Then again, Harry Bolls should have been ideal, too._ It was enough for the artificial intelligence to scream; that is, if he had a real mouth and emotions to go with it.

"Master, may I ask a question?"

"Yes, of course. Ask your question." Makr had evolved beyond mere intervention with human behavior; in fact, He had come to enjoy being the master. Bios still called him Makr, too, but that would change. That name had served its purpose, but He liked the sound of Master.

"Why didn't you just kill Harry Bolls like the rest?" It was a simple question with a more complex answer. "You had him and his companions in your grasp."

"That's not important. I merely wanted to question him about the other renegades. He won't disappear for long."

In truth, Winston Salem was no fool. He knew Makr had more at stake. Bolls was dangerous. Just how dangerous, he had no real idea—only what he'd been told. _Patience,_ he told himself. _Be patient and play the fool until you discover the truth...if you live that long._ He had his doubts; this job had its liabilities. He was nervous, but he appreciated a challenge. In other circumstances, some might call it bravery. Winston would disappear long before he became a liability to Makr—or so he thought. He wasn't the only one who thought that.

"How can Harry Bolls destroy a Cyber street cleaner when he is programmed with an advanced inhibitor against damaging any Cyber? He shouldn't be able to throw his alarm clock, let alone vaporize a Cyber."

"As you know, Master, some Bios can be very emotional," the new chief prosecutor volunteered. "Sometimes when the adrenaline takes over, it makes for irrational, unpredictable behavior. You know, 'brain says one thing, heart says another.' He acts on his feelings. He is one of these more irrational Bios, yet strangely enough he holds an unusual place in PerSoc."

Winston wasn't sure of his part in this battle for symbiosis; but he had no choice but to support the State. And the State—well, that was really Makr, wasn't it?

The logic trail for a Bio in this was easy to follow. Winston's washed brain told him that Cyber were responsible for Man's safety. That Cyber were Man's caretakers was simple and true; also that it was preposterous to war against what keeps you thriving and alive. He didn't like this war because no one likes wars. He couldn't take sides, but he couldn't help feeling something for his own kind. Like Harry, though, he was unable to harm a cyberserver; and it would have been easier for him to kill a Bio. But then Harry had destroyed a cybert! A minor cleaner cybert to be sure, but the act was definitely an anomaly—an anomaly representing hope. That did not compute—even for Winston Salem.

Logical and rational, Makr regarded the war as a slight annoyance, a delay. _Delete them,_ he computed. _They're only Bios. End of process._

Winston didn't know everyone had a plan—all the big boys and girls involved, especially his own self-proclaimed master of the world. As for himself: If the master let him live, he'd have to choose a side—a loyalty. The years of brainwashing had taken a toll on this man, one who had also lost at least one Bio identity and lived again with yet another Bio identity created by machine. _What if, like Harry, I can harm a toaster after all?_ Strangely enough, he liked the idea.

# CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

_"A jury too often has at least one member more ready to hang the panel than to hang the traitor."_ **\- Abraham Lincoln**

"Any problems?" asked Carlos of the two men who delivered the scanner.

"No contact, Captain."

"Good. Put the scanner over here," he ordered, gesturing to a small portable table and chair next to a larger metal table.

The scanner, about the size of a small suitcase, was portable enough for two Shadows to transport the device easily anywhere it was needed; its cold metal and plastic didn't need Stealth since it only generated heat when it was being used. The two men responsible for its transport stood at attention awaiting further instructions. Carlos could tell by the flicker of their Shadows that neither man was thrilled to be in the presence of the scanner when humans were being scanned.

A wave of his hand brought relief as he silently signaled them to take their places on the perimeter. Carlos covered the scanner almost completely with Stealth, leaving room for the monitor to be seen. He motioned for Harry to get on top of the large metal table that his men had scrounged from another room in this ancient building. The table reminded Harry of his dreams.

"Security? Jammer set?" Carlos' Shadow stood motionless while the leader received his reply.

The walls of the room were streaked with huge tears of iridescent greenish mold that streamed to the floor, shrouding a past of dust and possibly deadly bacteria. Harry mused that the wall was crying for its previous inhabitants, or its current ones. In an odd sort of way, it was proof that life could exist Outside without Makr. Primitive life.

When they first entered this room, it had seemed lifeless because it was cold and uninviting, but Harry couldn't resist the urge to give the room a life, hence the tears. This must have been the sanctuary of an ancient home no longer under Makr's watchful eye, he decided, and the bacteria were ironic, concrete proof that it still lived.

Feeling uncomfortable, he almost expected the room to adapt to his comfort need. He noticed the reality of the environment, the cold dampness, the humidity, but especially the smells, which were horrible.

He could distinguish at least two. Each was an odor that Makr would not have been likely to share with a Bio who had no need to smell it. Odor identification was hardly necessary while Makr was protecting you from harm. Harry recognized the odors that the others did not, nor seemed to care about. Makr had wanted to see a Bio's reaction to the smells since Cyberts had no need of this ability, so he had experimented on Harry. Now, Harry needed to know. He couldn't help his constant analytical look at reality whenever he found it.

Mildew? You'd expect that. It goes with the moisture. But the other? Urine? Not quite, but similar. Ammonia? Probably. Maybe something else, too. Definitely chemical. A cleansing agent. Alcohol? Or something more dangerous like methane?

He remembered one of the early SensaVision vids contained a cornucopia of scents for educational purposes.

A blinding flash!

No, not now!

The dream! Or was it?

The stainless steel table was cold and wet. Bravely, he opened his eyes to view what appeared, unbelievably, to be a reality of his own making. The "wet" he was experiencing was colorless and odorless. Cold metal sweats. He took in the stark white walls and floors. He was calmly sitting on the table turning over a donut-shaped ring that Kieran had given him.

Attached to the top of the scanner was a flat monitor with the screen facing out, so only Carlos and his Shadows can see it.

"Been living the easy life, have we?" Kieran teased Harry. "Your organs all seem in good shape."

"I try to take care of myself."

"Exercise?"

"Well, no. Makr..."

"I thought so." Kieran interrupted, her voice mocking him. "I, for one, had hoped we had found a man of character."

Harry wasn't getting the joke.

"That's not fair, Kieran." Carlos interjected. "He only just found the Touchables before we found him."

"I just can't tolerate the Touchables or Insiders—such weaklings. Worthless!" Her very words almost made her spit as she vehemently whispered to Carlos.

"I know. I know. I feel the same way sometimes, but go easy, Kieran. Try to be more understanding. You're my lieutenant now. I need you to be strong, but also wise. I have a feeling this one's different."

To Harry, this was reminiscent of another cop vid he viewed in his collection: _Good cop, bad cop_. He was betting the lieutenant was the _bad cop_.

"Is that true, puny man? Are you different?" Kieran taunted.

Carlos, ignoring her, turned teacher. "This is a Bio scanner," he said to Harry and Marlene. "It scans Bio tissue and bones for foreign bodies. It used to be used to identify cancerous or fibrous tissue, broken bones, as well as projectiles, 'bullets,' I think they're called, from the first millennium. We destroyed the cybercom components in the scanner and salvaged the rest. It'll tell us if you are all flesh and blood with nothing extra. So far, your internal organs look fine and healthy."

"Cyber parts. Manipulator implants. Backbone," added Kieran with a sardonic smile.

"Lieutenant O'Shea, that's enough!" Carlos glared at Kieran who stood her ground for the moment then backed away, hands raised over her head as if conceding defeat for the moment.

Harry stammered, "If I'm not all human...?"

"You don't really want to know," Carlos said, not looking at him. "We're scanning your brain next."

Harry looked at Kieran who smiled sardonically and shrugged. Her eyes had a cold look about them—even when she smiled. He heard the scanner hum briefly as something traveled along a path inside it.

"Primitive, I know, but it'll do the trick. What the...! Damn!" Carlos' face twisted to grimace. "Kieran, take a look at this!"

In an instant she was back by his side, looking over his shoulder.

As Harry started up, Carlos pushed him back down with one hand. "Stay down for a moment," he ordered with the gentleness of a physician as he moved the scanner so Kieran could see the image.

"That square object at the base of his brain?"

"That's not unusual, Carlos." Kieran was not terribly impressed. "We all have them or had them."

"Look at it again. Ever seen one this big before? Magnify."

Kieran turned a knob on the monitor to adjust the picture to one hundred times, then a thousand times. "Wow! Look at that detail. Looks like a miniature city."

"If it's what I think it is, it gets worse. Angle. Change the angle. Virtual 3-D image. Magnify."

"Damn!" she said. "It's not just a flat square; it's a cube!"

"That's a very advanced chip."

"Understatement," Kieran offered. "That is a hundred times more complex than even the double sided chips we've been seeing lately."

"It could be worse. It could be one of the layered cube chips I've heard about from our Touchable operatives. Supposedly it carries enough programming to run one of Makr's Cyber factories—all by itself."

"Or provide a direct communication link to Makr from anywhere on this planet."

"Better get the girl up here quickly," he said to Kieran. To Harry: "You can get up now, but don't go anywhere."

.

"She has a larger chip, too. Not as large as Harry's, not exactly a cube either, but larger than any we've seen."

Kieran had made an image copy of Harry's chip and was comparing it with Marlene's image on the virtual monitor.

"The bigger question is why?" asked Carlos. "What does it all mean?"

Although his question was rhetorical, Kieran was thinking aloud.

"We know Makr uses those chips to transmit SensaVision images, but why make them larger instead of smaller? I thought this technology is getting smaller and smaller... Unless..."

She looked at Carlos who finished the sentence.

"Unless the chips are designed to do something else—perform other functions as well as the usual. I don't like what I'm thinking."

"Chips that size..." Kieran suggested, "A communication device? A geophysical positioning device?

"What do you mean by that?"

"Look at the location of both of these chips. Centered directly on the brain stem."

"Meaning Makr not only knows where they are, but may be in touch with every thought and experience they have," concluded Carlos. "Makr, when did this happen!"

"Makr, Carlos. You said 'Makr'."

"No, I didn't."

"Well, if you didn't, I'm hearing things and that's just as bad. Makr is getting in our heads and we no longer have chips."

"Transmitting sensors?"

"Do you think they're spies now?"

Marlene was sitting up, glaring at both of them. "Why don't you ask me? I know something about 'chips'?"

"Really?" asked Kieran smugly.

Marlene spoke to Carlos. "I was a direct link. The newer chips add to Makr's ability to evaluate impressions firsthand without relying on the Bio verbal reports. It's a sensor and transmitting chip—a two-way conduit."

"You know an awful lot about satisfying Makr's needs, don't you?"

Carlos interrupted to calm the situation. "Not now, Kieran. Ease up."

"No, I'll answer her question."

Marlene turned to face her.

"Yes, I do know a lot about Makr's needs and wants because I was a direct link to Him. That was my job as chief prosecutor for the State."

"Damn, Carlos! A Cyberlink? Two of 'em!" She tried to whisper but her agitation made it impossible. "You sure know how to pick 'em! You better let me kill 'em!"

Hearing but ignoring Kieran's remarks, Carlos studied Marlene carefully as if he had known all along. Marlene's quiet intensity communicated to him a confidence and presence of mind that only a few days ago would have gotten her killed on the spot. He wasn't ready to trust her yet, but he was willing to test her if that was possible.

"Why is Harry's chip different from yours?"

"I don't know," she said. "To be honest I always thought we direct cyberlinks had the most advanced chips."

"Is he a direct cyberlink?"

"Not that I know of."

"She'll give us away!" Kieran was seething. "Carlos? Are you listening to me? This has gone too far too fast! We're out of our depth here!"

"Calm down, Lieutenant. That may have already happened. A chip that evaluates input directly from the environment could certainly be used to spy on us without the jammer in place, but I see no evidence of that yet. A little patience, Kieran."

"We don't have a choice," Kieran insisted.

"Killing can't be our answer to everything. That may be Makr's way, but not ours—not anymore."

Kieran raised her hand, palm out, once again being overruled by Carlos.

"When did you get so respectful of the living dead?" she said, retreating into a shadow along the wall to sulk for a minute or two.

_Poor Carlos. He needs me to keep him focused on the mission_ , she thought. _Don't worry Mother-General, your son's safe._ Of course, up until now, she hadn't had a couple of strangers to complicate the situation.

"Tell me something, Harry," Carlos said. Harry just looked at him, silent. "How's your head?"

"I think I'm going out of my mind. Other than that? Fine. Why?"

Ignoring Harry, Carlos went straight to Marlene. "How about you? Headache?"

"Now that you mention, yeah, a big one. It started when I got here. I was a little distracted to pay too much attention to it."

"Well, that's something," he said for Kieran, who had her back to him but had heard every word. "Could be our jamming signal. What do you think, Kieran?"

He had always known how to get her attention, appealing to the scientist in her. It had been like that since they were kids. She'd get mad at him for playing with someone else, or by playing by different rules. She'd skulk away from him and he'd lure her back with an interesting discovery.

"As much as I'd like to kill them both," she proposed calmly, "we have to find out more about the functions of those chips and how many more are out there."

"I agree. So far, Makr must be limiting the cybert technological changes out here. Of course, we have no way of knowing what is happening Inside in that regard since we've been so isolated. These two could have some answers."

"Her headache could mean the shock wave—or the jammer disabled it."

"It could. Or, it could mean the incident with Leach was stressful enough to give her a headache."

"Leach could give anyone a headache. But he never would've gotten that far with me."

"She was tied up, for Makr's sake!" The reference to Makr had not gone unnoticed by anyone, especially Kieran. _Damn, I'm beginning to talk like an Insider now,_ he thought.

"It's just..."

"Let's stay on task, shall we?" ordered Carlos. When his voice was a little steadier, he stated, "If we assume her 'homing device' has been disabled, then we only have to worry about him."

"We could remove the chip."

"It might kill him."

"So. Better him than us. When he's dead we cut it out and examine it then."

"Maybe. If we can't remove it, disintegrate or dissolve it, we could try to disable it. It wouldn't cause us any harm that way. Of course, we wouldn't learn anything from it either. Who knows what program is already fixed in his brain."

Harry inserted himself into the discussion. "Excuse me. If you two are coldly plotting my demise about whatever is fixed in my brain, don't I have say here?"

Kieran scowled, but Carlos looked at Harry calmly and replied, "You aren't in much of a position to offer any advice. For all we know, you may be transmitting our location and conversation right now."

"You could be right about that, but I don't think so."

"This better be good," warned Kieran.

"I don't know if this will help," he said, "but from what I know of SensaVision transmissions, the steel alloy and composite materials that probably went into the construction of this building create interference—noise, reverberation, garbled signals, what-have-you. If He receives anything, it would be bits and pieces of data. Makr thinks it is normal for transmission. Not useful for PerSoc, so it's not important enough to fix. Without triangulation and relays, the transmission won't have the desired effect. We'd probably act on the information if we thought we had enough, but not Cyber; Makr can't act on inference—or _interference_ in this case. SensaVision is based on the principle that with enough data present, some information can be assumed to form the whole. He doesn't have enough information."

_It isn't the whole truth,_ Harry thought to himself. He knew Makr could easily penetrate these walls if He knew they were here... However, if Carlos believed He couldn't, it might buy them some time to figure a way out.

"He's right, you know," volunteered Marlene, taking Harry's lead. "He should know. Harry's not just a cyberlink; He's high up in the SensaVision org chart, a spokesperson."

Carlos was taking this in. "A spokesperson? For whom?"

"The State," Marlene admitted.

"You mean Makr?"

"Er...yes."

"Let me see if I've got it straight," checked Kieran. "You're telling me that two people who link directly to the mainframe are not willing spies? Both receive and send Makr's orders and we shouldn't kill them for that?"

"We didn't know any better," Harry said.

"And now you do? That's rich!"

"Captain, can't you see they're stalling?" added Kieran. "I'll bet cyberts are on the way, Carlos."

Carlos turned briefly, melting his presence into the natural shadows in the room.

He pulled his cowl back, exposing his face, and asked Harry point blank, "Are you?"

"What?"

"Stalling."

"Yes," he confessed. "We don't want to die any more than you do. Given a choice at the moment, it would seem we are in more danger in this room than out there with Makr's army."

"We wouldn't kill you without good reason."

"Is there a good reason for killing fellow Bios?"

"You don't know anything about being sick with fear because you never know when a machine may come waltzing by and decide you are a nuisance to productivity, and blast you into a million pieces. You don't know what it's like to die out here."

"True, but I know what it's like _not_ to _live_ Inside."

"And you came out of your own free will?"

"I needed to see the truth."

"Captain," Kieran jumped in, "I hate to break this up, but perimeter has a contact with a cybert force coming this way on our right flank."

Carlos' eyes narrowed in anger. _Kieran was right! They are spies_! He raised a laser ax and pointed it at Harry first, then Marlene. It's as if he was considering where he would make the first cut before slicing them in half.

"Carlos, the cybert force has turned away from our flank."

Carlos was still pointing the ax.

"Carlos!"

"I know you may not expect this of me right now...but let's think rationally," he said to Kieran.

"What's your point?"

"That what they say could be true."

"Our Shadows won't buy it."

"Then, let's not tell them."

"It just so happens that both have unusually large chips? They are found together alive where all their comrades were killed? No, it won't make sense to them; it sure doesn't make sense to me."

"If it is true, we've still got to have those chips with or without their permission."

"We could try to remove the chips here."

"Not here, it's too big a risk."

"Discovery, or death!"

"Both, and you know it."

"I agree with you that it's risky, Carlos, but we need to know more about what's going on out here. We could learn more from these two chips than with any number of scavenger hunts and salvage operations. We can't just leave them here alive."

"We won't leave them."

"You aren't thinking of taking them to the Nest? I say either use 'em alive or cut 'em and take the chips."

"I love it when you talk tough." He smiled. "Cut 'em is a bit harsh, don't you think?"

"Either way the results are the same." Kieran's eyes were cold, lifeless again. "You really aren't thinking of bringing them back with us, are you?"

"We could learn a lot," Carlos conceded. "I think we have to."

"And the danger..."

"Minimal, especially if we can disable Harry's chip as soon as we get back to the Nest. For right now, if we believe him, we're protected from detection by sheer volume of steel and composite structures surrounding us. We can blindfold them and cover their ears and mouths. If they are transmitting, the data will be limited. If he's telling us the truth, that is."

Kieran gave him a stern look.

"Don't worry," her captain said defensively. "I'm not giving anything away. He doesn't know _where_ I'm talking about."

"Unless Makr can read minds through him. I don't know," she hesitated. "I don't like it."

"You can do this, Kieran. You have a far better chance at cracking these chips at the Nest than out here."

"We'll put the Nest at risk."

"I think it's worth the risk."

"All right, you're the boss."

Her concession was too quick. Carlos was suspicious.

"Yes, that's right, I am the boss. Do you have a problem about it?"

"No, of course not, it's...," she started, then hesitated before finishing. "There's something else. Just a bad feeling. We don't know anything about this cube chip. We know zero about what it does."

"And you don't think you can analyze the technology properly? For Makr's sake, Kieran, it's not a laser ax. The chips won't blow up."

Overhearing most of the conversation, Harry was wondering if there was anything he could say that might save their lives. He could say something about his ability to thought-blink, but thought better of it.

"If we find a way to bring these two to the Nest with us, how are we going to disable the chips?" she asked.

Carlos sneaked a look at Harry and Marlene just to let them know he hadn't forgotten them. Always good to let prisoners know you reserve an option to change your mind.

"That's easy," he said. "Remember the ultrasound laser we salvaged a few weeks ago? We thought it might be useful to penetrate and disrupt the smaller automated systems. It uses compressed sound as one would use a laser, but without destroying the rest of the system."

"We've never used it on a human," she argued.

"I know. But if more and more Bio cyberlinks have these advanced chips, we best find some way to defeat them, and fast."

"If we can't disable the chips, you know what we have to do?"

"Okay, Lieutenant, you're on. Now, how do we get home from here without going topside?"

"That I leave in your capable hands, Captain."

# CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

_"No man is wise enough or good enough to be trusted with unlimited power."_ **\- Author Unknown**

"Whew! Damn, it smells down here," said Harry, who had been trying hard to ignore the offending stench.

He couldn't believe he'd actually been glad to have the dirty rags covering him to breathe through. The air was not only putrid, but weeping moisture and goo dripping off the walls and ceiling made the humid air unbearably heavy and hard to breathe. Fluorescent green, yellow and white lichen covered the walls with an eerie glow and created just enough light for the group to wind their way through the dark underground network of tunnels. Carlos alone seemed to know where he was going.

"How do you like this reality, Harry? Carlos said as he removed Harry's blindfold. "Sorry we can't do anything to make your stay more comfortable, but we're relatively safe from detection."

Harry looked anxiously into every corner and niche, above and below, as they trudged through a disgusting reddish sludge, blanketed by a smelly greenish fog. He shared a concerned look with Dar who had also had her blindfold removed. Both seemed to have drawn the conclusion that they were on their way to Hell.

"Rust, ammonia, methane, petroleum and radioactive waste, and probably some pretty awful chemicals," Carlos explained, looking back at Harry who trailed a couple of paces behind him. "Careful what you touch. The methane. Static sparks can blow up half the city—including us."

"Where are we?" Harry asked.

"Under the city. Used to be a sewer—a disposal for human waste. Chemicals and oil from the nearby disused plants that haven't been operational in 50 years or so. When they abandoned them, the owners just left their trash. Not very pleasant is it? Kieran and I grew up in this muck. Some parts of the underground system are better than others. Give it some time. You'll get used to it—even forget it stinks after a while. Until you get a breath of fresh air on the surface... That always makes you want to take back what's rightfully yours."

"No Makr or SensaVision to take it all away. I think I know what you meant about a 'living Hell.'"

"Wouldn't have it any other way. This place does have its uses."

"Cyberts!" warned Harry as he spies two large insect-like creations approaching the human group.

Shiny black and green with tiny glowing orange eyes, they had four spindly legs that penetrated the sludge and found footing easily. The group was relieved to see them move off quickly to their destination. If you stood them up on their last two hind legs, they would clear six or seven feet by themselves, if you ignored the sheer length and number of appendages. Walking on the last four, the two cyberts were menacing enough. Spindly legs propelled them easily through the muck, while six or eight tendrils from their upper torsos felt along the walls and ceiling in as many areas as they could reach.

"Don't worry, it's only maintenance. They work here," said Carlos. "They're not very sophisticated as cyberts go, but they do sting. When they get in range, stay very still and they won't see you. Because most of this place is pitch dark, they're blind. The 'eyes' you see are short-range motion and heat sensors. They also have sensors on the end of each arm next to a 2-level disintegrator. As long as we don't take off our Stealth cover, we should be all right."

"Can they hear us?" Harry whispered.

"No, but they are very sensitive to vibrations. If they're close enough, they could feel the vibration of your mouth moving through the fabric of your hood. So when I say, 'Don't talk;' don't. Don't move. Don't scratch or even blink. They kill all the rats and other creatures they find. Giant mutated rats are the main residents down here now. Some bigger than a medium-sized dog. A holdover from when our ancestors wrecked the environment."

"I've never seen a rat," whispered Marlene. She had never seen a dog either.

"Better hope we don't see one," a Shadow whispered back. "There's never just one and they aren't picky about their food."

"Shhh, you two!" Kieran pulled her laser ax off her shoulder and readied it for action. "The bugs are coming right for us, Carlos!"

"Quiet now. Steady. If you use that ax, you'll bring all the cyberts in this quadrant. Not to mention if that laser ax blade touches this muck, we're all liable to go up in flames with it. Remember, these metal bugs have stingers in those tentacles of theirs."

"I thought you said we were safe," Marlene whispered to Carlos.

"We are. No Makr down here. Just Cyber civil servants. The Old World, ancient metals and composites, and concrete surround us. Raw materials are more efficient to use. Not worth Makr's trouble to recycle here while there are raw materials easily available elsewhere."

"They're still coming this way, Carlos." Kieran made her way slowly to stand next to Harry.

"Everyone, move back slowly, very slowly. Inch by inch, if you have to, but go slow. Easy. Steady."

The Shadows plus two were lined up against the wall of the tunnel. Carlos was watching the insect-like cyberts' every move. Suddenly, one turned to the side, pointed with a single tendril and fired. A fifty or sixty pound rat who had stuck his nose out from behind a block of primitive machinery emitted a squeal for less than a fraction of a second as it disintegrated, leaving a red stain on the wall.

"Freeze! Flat against the wall. Don't move. Don't breathe." It was Carlos.

The team of ten, including Harry and Marlene, tried to become one with the wall. The cyberts wheeled around at the sudden noise, but paused, unable to pinpoint it. One man standing beside Harry couldn't hold his breath any longer and exhaled. As his body relaxed with the air expelled from his lungs, his shoulder dropped and his laser ax fell, bouncing against the wall first, then splashed into the gooey river in the middle of the passageway. The next instant, Harry felt a hot blast beside him and saw an empty space on the wall. Not even time to scream.

He looked from the corner of his eye and saw that Kieran was still standing on one side of him. She frowned and shook her head as she noticed the Shadow on the other side of Harry was gone.

The team of ten was now nine. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched fearfully as the exterminators' tendrils ran along the wall where they were standing, as if preparing the group for a firing squad. Harry froze as a cold, wet and slimy tendril passed over his chest. Seconds become minutes. Minutes seemed like hours.

"Okay, all clear," Kieran announced quietly.

Everyone breathed a quiet sigh of relief, except Marlene who felt a warm liquid running down her leg.

Kieran saw her reaction to what was happening. It was fear. Not the best place for Fear to express itself. "We better move...," she said.

There was no time for her to finish. A turtle-like creature with a hard shell about four feet in diameter was heading for the warm spot in the murky sludge. As it came up out of the sludge, its mouth arched open revealing a sharp jagged ridge along its mouth. Snap! Snap! Extending its neck, it struck blindly at the source of the warmth—the pool of warmer liquid surrounding Marlene. When Kieran pushed her out of the way, Marlene ended up face down in the disgusting river of sewerage and toxic waste. Confused by the abrupt movement, the turtle struck again, this time at Kieran who slammed the butt of her laser ax on the Bio creature's exposed head and pushed down hard until she felt the neck break. _These damn Touchables are too much trouble,_ she thought _, but this makes up for it._

"Dinner," she proclaimed as she picked it up with both hands by the two foot long tail. Heavy. About thirty-five, forty pounds. Nice.

"That's not a turtle?" Harry asked as he examined the creature at a distance. First, he noted the extremely bony armor that had formed on the top of the 'turtle's' head and the razor sharp beak. With armored platelets sticking up on his back like tiny sharp shovels, the turtle creature resembled its ancient dinosaur cousins. Why did it need so much more protection? Then, there were the feet: webfeet with about four inches of claw. Tiny, nearly sightless eyes. Another adaptation to living in the dark beneath the city. Still, a dangerous adversary for any unwary Bio-creature, human or otherwise.

"It used to be a turtle," explained Carlos. "Now it's a food source. Chemicals, nuclear waste and biogenetic waste have combined to change some of the old dwellers in this sewer. You haven't seen anything yet."

"Doesn't this muck poison the food source?"

"We thought so, too, but desperate situations require desperate actions. We were hungry. Some of us died, some didn't. In time our bodies adapted to keep us from harm."

_There's another world down here_ , Harry thought, _and it's amazing!_ _Surely, Shadows don't live down here? Of course, they do. Except for the sewage filth, the Bio creatures, and, of course, the maintenance cyberts, it's perfect to avoid detection._

Marlene trudged along in silence, more in deference to the new environment than in disgust with it. Kieran found two pieces of flexible wire, each about four feet long. Its gauge was about the same as the wire with which she had bound Harry's wrists—strong and flexible, good for multiple uses. She pulled on them to test for strength. Then, taking the shortest one, she wrapped one end around the 'turtle's' neck, and the other around her gloved hand, letting the creature hang down her back as she made her way to the front to talk with the others. The other wire she draped around her neck like a shawl.

"Ever eat one of these?" she asked Marlene who turned away initially, then back to her.

"Absolutely not, but I'm sure you find them delicious."

Marlene tried to wipe some of the black goo out of her eyes, but got more in them in the process. _Oh, the stinging! The burning!_ Kieran, ignoring the snub, pulled out her canteen from inside her Stealth and dumped it over Marlene's hair and face. Someone else offered a canteen. She accepted it and poured half directly on Marlene's eyes. While the water washed the goo from her eyes, it unfortunately found its way to her mouth.

"Whatever you do, don't swallow it. Here, rinse your mouth out. Spit. Again. Again."

Marlene, not liking the tone, knew it is for her own good and did as she was told.

"That stuff will kill you," Kieran continued, referring to the waste sludge's lethal ingredients.

"Thanks," Marlene said weakly.

"Oh, you mean for saving your miserable life?"

"Yeah, something like that," Marlene acknowledged grudgingly.

"Let's just say, I think you have nice eyes. Hate to see anything happen to them." Actually saying the words made Kieran appreciate that she could still see.

"I think I'll live," Marlene said. "Thanks, again."

"I don't want your gratitude—Marlene is it? If you get this garbage in your eyes and you don't get it all out, you can forget about cloned eye replacements. This stuff can eat through to the brain if it's been there too long."

Now, at least, the newcomer female had another chance with survival. As it was, they all would have minor burns because of this stroll through the underbelly of the city.

"Guess what's for dinner?" She laughed and moved up to Harry. "Is your friend always this angry?"

"She has her reasons.

"I don't think she cares much for her life at the moment."

"She's not alone there. I'm still trying to figure out what's next."

"Aren't we all?"

It appeared both Harry and the tough lieutenant had something in common. Both were disappointed with the status quo.

Carlos, at the front of the procession, held up his hand to signal a halt. "Quiet. We're not far. From here on out, walk softly and make sure there's not a rattle from your weapon."

As he raised his hand to start the procession once again, he stopped abruptly, his hand still raised. Ahead, two more cyberts were coming their way! _Not again! Don't breathe anyone. Don't breathe. Closer...closer...closer._ Mentally, he visualized his next move. _Pulling his weapon off his shoulder? He might get one of them. Kieran might get the other one. No, she's weighted down with that turtle. Damn! I should never have allowed her to bring it back to the Nest. Now we might not even make that._

Not a peep, anyone, he warned with his body language. They all seemed to understand perfectly except Marlene and Harry who of course weren't Shadows. Carlos let his finger creep ever so slowly to take his weapon off safety; the cyberts picked up their pace and made a sudden right turn. As he peered around the corner, he saw the bright flashes of light and heard the telltale snap of electricity as the cyberts began zapping other unfortunate Bio-creatures of the sewer.

"It's over. Let's go." He let the air out of his lungs as quietly as he could. It still sounded like an explosion in the quiet of his mind. The others followed suit, some not nearly as silent. _You can't control everything_ , he tells himself.

"A few more minutes," he said to Harry.

All had hardly caught their breath when the sewer sludge seemed to have solidified and formed a crust on the surface. As the muddy substance oozed away, with two-foot waves from what was pushing it upward and parting the underground sea, it exposed a creature longer than the procession itself, more than forty feet long and barely wide enough to squeeze through the passageway's smaller branches. The monster revealed intense, evil-looking, glowing green eyes as it opened them twice, exposing a second and third set of translucent eyelids. If they had had the time to examine the creature that looked like the murky floor itself, they would have discovered a fierce reptile whose ancestors were most likely crocodilians that had not changed much in millions of years—that was until now. This one was larger, much larger, with jaws that opened as high as a man was tall. An incredible five feet wide and forty feet long, the monster was more than a match for its human prey. Even among the stealthiest of the group, no one noticed the creature until they heard the screams and the sickening crunch of bones. One Shadow soldier! Two?

The monstrous jaws opened and closed three or four times and the creature was ready to kill again. This time it came upon a victim climbing as much of the wall as possible in a split second. Snap! Snap! There was the crunch of bones and a final scream. The snapping noise was a hundred times louder than the turtle's snap, and different from the maintenance cyberts' electrical snap that echoed throughout the chamber. The biggest difference was when the Shadows heard the snap of the jaws, they were keenly aware that one of their own had died horribly.

Carlos maneuvered behind the monster and leapt on its back. As the sewer behemoth twisted and turned to dislodge its rider, Carlos inched his way behind its head, holding on to the animal's rough scales for dear life as he waited for the right moment. The gigantic jaws slammed shut on air once more and Carlos slid down the snout as far as he could, wrapped his arms around that jaw and attempted to hold it shut. He knew from experience that the creature used less force to open its jaws than it did to slam them shut on prey, but he had to be at the very end of the snout before he could hold it closed. Then his soldiers could kill it.

Kieran swung all thirty-five plus pounds of the armored beast over her head several times and then began beating the gigantic reptile with the hard bony casing of her recent acquisition. It only seemed to agitate the monster more. She felt a tugging at her tunic. It was Harry. He had spotted the wire draped around her neck and pulled it off. What the...? He quickly made a slipknot and used the loop to lasso the creature's snout.

Carlos was barely holding on. He had used his weapon sling to tie his arms together. If he ever got loose, he knew his arms wouldn't be much good to him for a while. Harry's primitive loop wasn't working as he'd hoped either. Miss! Miss! It kept falling short or long, or the creature jerked its ugly snout about.

Finally, Carlos could hold on no longer. The beast opened its monstrous jaws and raised its loathsome head, catapulting Carlos off the top of its snout and back to its tail. It could have made a meal of the Shadow leader except that it couldn't turn around in the narrow quarters. Carlos narrowly missed being impaled on the spikes on the tail, and instead caught hold of one of them to keep from being dumped into the poisonous swill. The creature sensed Carlos has attached himself to his tail, twisted its hindquarters, and swept its spiked tail, effortlessly tossing the Shadow leader's struggling form against the tunnel wall some ten or fifteen yards away with a thud. Carlos moaned as he was slammed violently into the wall, but was silent as his limp body slid it and splashed face up in the goo.

Harry had missed with his crude lasso when the creature opened its mouth; the loop wasn't large enough. This time, however, the wire caught between razor-sharp six-inch teeth and his chin. As the creature attempted to bite down on the foreign substance, Harry sprang to take Carlos' place on top of the snout, and attempted to wrap the rest of the wire around the jaws. If he could only keep his balance long enough... He wrapped the wire completely around only once.

Harry felt the powerful spring-like jaws straining against the single wire strength, the monster gnashing, fighting to free itself. _Have to hang on! Can't give up!_ Harry imagined the horrible result if he failed to keep it at bay. The creature whipped its head back and forth trying to dislodge the man and his wire. The man was scarcely able to maintain a grip as the creature went under and rolled over and over in the toxic sludge, but he held on as he was tossed and jerked until his bones felt like mush; his flesh scratched, torn, bruised, bleeding. He was numb, and went down with the creature as it made a desperate dive in the shallow.

Don't give up! Harry told himself. Can't give up!

Aware of the highly poisonous muck, he clenched his jaws tight and kept his eyes as tightly closed as much as the muscles in his face would allow him. His lungs were about to burst, or worse, as he took some of the toxic sludge into his mouth or nose. He tried to spit out the poison that made it to his mouth, but ended up vomiting as his body sought to rid itself of the deadly toxin.

To get a better grasp, he forced his fingers under the wire lasso where it cut into the reptilian crusty, scaly skin. Unfortunately, when the creature squirmed, the wire also sliced into his own fingers.

Fatigued by his struggle to dislodge the man, the creature came to the surface just in time. Harry exhaled and gulped air gratefully. But it was not over yet.

This creature had slowed a bit, but not enough; it had yet to be stopped. _That is all that matters. Have to hold on!_ The pain made the adrenaline flow, which in turn, made his superhuman effort even greater. He succeeded in wrapping the wire round the jaws twice more and managed to pull his bleeding fingers free as he twisted the wire on itself. He fell exhausted into the toxic sewer as the frustrated creature thrashed about uncontrollably.

With the savage jaws out of commission, Kieran leapt in front of the mutant creature and fired a single narrow laser beam, set for maximum intensity and the least likely potential for spillover and fiery disaster. When she saw the steam rise from its head, she knew she had penetrated and burned a hole through to its brain. Part from habit after killing cyberts, and part from wanting to be thorough, she proceeded to cut through the back of the creature's head to take it as a trophy.

The fight was over. At least two more Shadow warriors were dead, crushed by the weight and force of the creature's tail as they'd been whipped around and slammed into walls and ancient underground equipment. Carlos stirred, sloshing the murky slime a bit as he raised himself out of it—groggy, but alive.

Another soldier, a young woman who had landed nearby during the melee, was not as fortunate. She was lying across the end of the creature's tail, a bloody spear-like spike protruding from her back near the shoulder blades. One of the three two-foot spikes had impaled her. As her comrades pulled her body off the spike, her Stealth hood fell away from her face, revealing a pretty girl about 19 or 20 years old made ugly with the agony of her death. Up close and personal, her face was horribly contorted as she had screamed, her eyes bulging and frozen in time.

The group had been so worried about the jaws that they had forgotten the deadly tail—another throwback to a prehistoric age. Harry knew from his reading that alligators and crocodiles were one of a few species that had managed to remain relatively unchanged by evolution for millions of years, while other creatures had evolved and become extinct. _Until we polluted our waters and let toxic waste penetrate our water tables and sewers such as this,_ he thought. _For once Makr is right. Humans did this, and now we pay._

The Shadow People wouldn't easily forget the creature's tail that had taken some of them so easily—especially the young woman who had been impaled. Nor would they forget this incident and their survival, or the brave deeds of their leaders, Carlos and Harry. The story would often be told to children around the comforting Shadow hearths.

Two soldiers, weary but unhurt, pulled a dazed, cut and bruised Harry from the murky, deadly sewage. Fortunately, his face had not been submerged in the muck. Harry tried to open his eyes. The pain was horrific, stinging, burning like nothing he had ever felt before.

Dying would be a relief, but now was not the time. The black sludge covering his entire body had begun eating away at his flesh. Burning everywhere, he had a wound or a scratch, and places where he didn't. Someone dragged him a few feet from where he had stood before his heroic leap, and placed him on drier ground. Without a word, the Shadow peered into Harry's eyes with a look that could only ask why. The answer was obvious. Sometimes humans were just human.

Everything about Harry was on fire; he was carrying his own private little Hell.

"Carlos! Where's Carlos?" he yelled.

Kieran, who had finished beheading the giant reptile with her trusty laser ax, was examining the pipes overhead. Too heavy to carry, the massive head was by her side, with wire fixed through the lower jaw so she could drag her trophy home. Spying the pipe she wanted, she cut through it with her laser ax. Hot steam and warm water sprayed, then cool water gushed as the force of its pressure widened the fissure she had created. Cleansing and healing water rained down on all, as Kieran motioned for the Shadows to move Harry under the heaviest part of the shower. His moment under the cooling water was better than any SensaVision dream—almost pure ecstasy.

"Where's Carlos?" he asked again, more calmly this time. His vision was gradually returning. His eyes burned a little when he opened them, but he could see well enough to move on.

"Over here. He's hurt, but he's all right," someone acknowledged. Several of his people were around him, trying to clean the miserable sludge from his body. He had worn it so long it had severely burned his flesh. He was still unconscious.

"A few blisters, but he'll live. How about you? You okay?" Kieran looked at Harry, trying to figure out this unassuming hero. As always, her curt manner made short work of any polite words. "Well, hero, what's next? I used up my laser ax back there."

"I don't think we should wait for the cyberts or who knows what to investigate, do you?" His voice was a little hoarse. Pain showed on his gaunt and gray face. Must have swallowed some of that gunk.

"Here, swirl this around, spit, then drink." She shoved a canteen of liquid at him. He did as he was told. Then he drank. It burned all the way down. It wasn't water. Wide-eyed, Harry protested that he'd had enough, then suddenly doubled over and vomited the contents in his stomach. A couple of dry heaves after that and he was sweating, out of breath, but feeling better.

"Home-made alcohol. Not exactly the use I had in mind for it. Better?"

Harry nodded weakly.

"Good. You did fine out there," she said, pointing to the river of sludge that was now red with human and crocodilian blood. The croc's flesh sizzled in the highly acidic soup.

"You're welcome."

"Look, I have to look after Carlos," she said to Harry. "Get us out of here, if you can. Just take the passageway around the corner to the left. Like it or not, you're in charge."

"Why me?"

"Who else? Look at them." She gestured to the other Shadows who looked beaten, weak, and barely alive.

"Does it look like any one of them is likely to compete for the job? They saw what you did back there so they'll follow you. I have to look after Carlos and the others and I can't do both."

Harry shook his head.

He looked to Marlene who said, "Don't worry. They'll listen...and so will I."

"Are you sure about this?" he asked Kieran.

"Yes, of course. Can we go now, please?"

"Well, all right. If you insist..." but he still didn't like it. He was their prisoner one minute and leader the next. But it was obvious to him that someone had to do it so he took charge.

"You two, pick him up, please," his voice carried a natural authority. "Carry him if you have to."

Two of the Shadows pulled Carlos to his feet. He was awake, but scarcely able to move forward—even with support. At least he was conscious, Kieran thought, as she walked beside him. Carlos reached out and gently touched her arm. He smiled. She returned his smile, turning away as he closed his eyes in exhaustion. Tears of joy streaked the half-dried muck on her face.

She noticed almost everyone had lost most of their Stealth covering in the melee, but at least they were moving. _Hopefully we're moving fast enough._

As she wiped her face, the black streaks became even more apparent, giving her face an odd camouflaged look of its own. Damn sludge. Black. Green. Now, red. Filthy. Slimy. She'd managed to wash the burning slime off the others but not herself. Her face felt like it was slowly being eaten away. After all she had gone through today, she was almost beyond caring. She knew she should have been wondering if she could get some of her clone's skin. Instead she was worried about Carlos.

After seeing that Carlos was being taken care of properly, Kieran pulled some soft clean cloth from a bag she carried on her hip under her Stealth, and began to wrap Harry's hands and wrists as they walked. They shared a look. Not a romantic one, but a look associated more with bond of camaraderie, which had been born in battle.

"Can I do that for you?" It was Marlene. "Harry's not sure of the way."

Kieran gave in to Marlene's request. There was no animosity this time from Kieran—just her usual defiant and seemingly dispassionate shrug. She had forgotten her animosity for Marlene, relegated it to the back of her mind, and was concentrating on the mission. Marlene looked after the wounded, and Kieran took her place keeping a watchful eye after the others further back. Always the soldier, Kieran had removed her feminine side for the moment.

After seeing to the others, Kieran returned to the front, taking her place behind the new leader, but Harry grabbed her clothing as she approached and pulled her in front of him.

"You need to lead us now," he said gently.

"But Carlos?" she asked.

"You've done all you can?" Harry looked at her for a moment, raised an eyebrow and smiled warmly. "You're doing fine. If someone has to do it, you are obviously the best qualified. Carlos would want you to."

"It's not far now anyway," she said nonchalantly as she took her place in the lead.

There was no question in her mind that he should lead them now, but this Harry character was an enigma. He seemed to have such natural leadership qualities that it was hard to believe he was a recent Insider, and a Touchable. A traitor or spy? Traitors and spies could be brave and resourceful, too.

The remaining 200 yards or so were uneventful, but painful for those who were injured. Carlos was semi-conscious, in and out of reality so much so that his two comrades had to drag him much of the way. Harry followed Kieran, his hands so badly bruised, scraped and cut that his bandages were entirely blood red. The makeshift bandages offered little blood-stopping aid, but clotting had already begun and the bleeding had stopped. The others had their own wounds to nurse, but they still kept a wary eye on the leaders and the newcomers as though their very survival depended on it.

Finally, they came to a door cut by hand out of the structure itself. It looked as if someone had hacked away with a laser ax and then welded hinges on it. There was no apparent attempt to hide the silver and black weld marks. Shut, the door was relatively invisible, which was all it needed to be. Certainly it was invisible to the sightless cyberts that maintained the sewer. Who else would come down here to this wretched place?

# CHAPTER THIRTY

_"When terrorists knock down buildings, when drought wipes out our farmers, when the economy threatens to come to a halt, even those who are ideologically hostile to the government turn to it, both logically and reflexively, for help."_ **\- Jacob Weisberg** _, the New York Times Magazine, October 21st, 2001_

The shower inside the Nest was no sanitizer; just a pipe with tiny holes drilled on one side, producing a steady waterfall of the liquid most necessary for survival. Harry found the result invigorating, but offering only temporary relief for his battered and burned body. Water alone was not enough to remove the sticky sludge. Some of it had burned deep into his skin. It seemed the burning would never cease.

"Here, use some of this," Carlos said. Although bruised and battered, amazingly, he looked much better after his ordeal. He tossed him a bar of a white waxy substance. "Just get it wet and rub it on your body until it suds up. It'll help remove the tar."

Harry put it up to his nose and sniffed. The bar had an unusual but not unpleasant odor. He touched it to his tongue. That was a mistake. How awful! He sputtered and spat several times, then tried to rinse his mouth out before he retched, all the while Carlos laughed.

"Well, I'm glad you're feeling better," Harry said sarcastically. "What is this stuff?"

"Don't you know? With all your historic trivia, I thought you'd known soap if you saw...er...tasted it." Carlos grinned and for the first time he seemed more of a friend than a captor.

"Soap?"

"Soap. For cleaning only, not eating."

"It seems to be working."

Carlos tried to be serious and placed his hand on Harry's shoulder. "Don't worry, you'll survive. We always do."

"Ow! Ow!" Harry cried out as he rubbed soap onto one of his abrasions.

"Oh, you big baby," Carlos laughed. "I'm sorry, I can't help it. You look so pathetic."

"Gee, thanks," said Harry, not at all amused.

"It's just soap. It'll cleanse your wound. It'll only sting for a minute or two."

"Thanks. Guess it's for my own good."

"Listen. On some things here, it's okay for you to be in charge of your own 'good.' Thought you might like to know..." he said as he grabbed a towel hanging outside the shower spray.

He turned back to Harry with a smile. "Oh, by the way, this is a community shower. It might get a little crowded in here in a minute or two. We don't like to waste our precious water."

Not wanting to give up this hedonistic pleasure, Harry finished his shower with one last luxurious spray into his face. "You forget," he said, "we Touchables don't mind crowds. I'm just about finished anyway."

As he stepped out of the shower, Carlos handed him a towel much too small to dry his entire body.

"Stand over by that vent."

Harry let the whoosh of warm air dry his back and hair. Almost as invigorating as the sanitizer at home.

"Primitive, I know, but we do the best we can with what we have."

"With SensaVision," Harry pointed out, "you can be anywhere—enjoying tropical breezes if you like—although this surely does the trick. How can you do this to the pipes and the vents, and not have the maintenance cyberts disrupting your...er...home?"

"We purify and recycle the water, and get it back in the pipes before there is a significant drop in pressure. The maintenance cyberts would notice that."

"What about that pipe we broke in the tunnel?"

"Oh, they'll fix those, but don't worry, the cyberts won't connect it to us. They're task-specific."

"You mean, they're only programmed to troubleshoot and repair, not determine the cause of damage?"

"More efficient that way. Unless breakage becomes a pattern which up 'til now, it hasn't and, hopefully, it won't. At any rate, we can't use that passage for a while."

"I don't think I'd want to." Harry couldn't help but relive the intense fear and pain associated with that passageway. And seeing death so close up and real...

"If you think this is bad, you should see our other way in and out."

Harry looked a bit worried.

"I'm kidding," Carlos continued. "Just a few bugs and nasty vermin out the other way. They aren't nearly as big as that croc."

They laughed as well as anyone could laugh whose body had just been burned, broken, battered and bruised. It was a painful laughter at best, but proof that they had truly survived.

"Now let's take care of your wounds," Carlos said. "Follow me."

"Shouldn't I get dressed first?"

"No, it'll be all right. Trust me," he said dismissively. "Seriously..." He led Harry to what appeared to be bathing area with several tubs instead of showers.

"I just had a shower."

"This isn't to get you clean; it's to help heal your wounds."

"But..." protested Harry.

"Look at me. Do I look like I did when you brought me in?"

"Well, no, you don't." Carlos was right. He certainly didn't look like he'd just wrestled a giant sewer mutant. But, how?

"Sit down in one of these tubs. It's a little cold at first, but then the gel changes to agree with your body temperature and it feels wonderful."

Harry did as he'd been told. "What is this stuff?" He was wrinkling his nose at the feel of thick gelatin.

Funny, Carlos thought, everyone does that at first, but later when they hurt themselves they stand in line anxiously waiting their turn.

Harry sat down in the tub, letting the gelatin form around his body, covering it all except his head without a surface ripple. He leant his head back.

_That's right, Harry_ , a voice tells him, _let the gel do its job_. He was a feather floating on a cushion of air. _Who needed SensaVision?_ "This is great! What is it? Where'd you get it?"

"Hey, not so fast. Not so many questions. First, honestly, we don't know what it is. We found it."

"You found it? You don't know what it is and I'm sitting in it?"

He started up, but Carlos waved him back down.

"We disrupted a small factory with about a hundred of these tubs and vats. Like most things we find, we study and experiment with them until we find some use for them. We found it soothes what ails you. Seems to have remarkable healing properties. We've even stored cloned parts in there and were able to transplant them days later in perfect shape."

"This is indeed a treasure. I think...I...uh...uh...help!" At that moment his repose ended as he found himself slipping and sliding all the way under the gel. Carlos made no move toward him. He even seemed to be helping.

"Stop struggling you'll be fine," he said, smiling at Harry's troubles. "It also makes a great lubricant."

Harry would later compare his dilemma to an insect in amber, except he could hear Carlos perfectly. The words weren't distorted at all by the gel like they would be in water. If anything, the words were clearer. Had he really heard Carlos? Or were the words and voices in his mind?

_Air? I need air_ , he thought, but his body didn't seem to be objecting to the containment. _No, I don't_ , he answered himself. He wasn't breathing, at least, not in a usual sense; unbelievably, he felt no urge to breathe."

"You don't have to breathe. Your body is absorbing all the oxygen it needs from the gel. It's a perfect conduit."

After making sure Harry had enough time in the gel, Carlos reached down with both hands, grabbed him by the head and pulled him up. Harry was smiling as expected.

_They all do the first time they use it_ , thought Carlos. In some ways it was the best kind of drug, he considered. It had no addictive properties other than increasing a desire to be free of pain and enjoy the sensation, and at that moment, there seemed to be an unlimited supply. The only downside, it seemed, was that it couldn't re-grow muscle and bone.

"That stuff is amazing. I feel great!"

"Good. Now, that's enough Rejuv for you. Get out. Here's your towel. Go rinse off in the shower."

"Rejuv?"

"Had to call it something. Don't worry, it doesn't actually make you younger, but it does take away pain and make you feel better. It won't put muscle on you or take fat or wrinkles off, but it's necessary. You've seen how rough life can get Outside."

Harry was himself more confident and poised for action; he already felt almost at home in the Nest.

Carlos found himself liking and admiring Harry, but couldn't help feeling he was making a mistake by letting this stranger into their midst. Something did not seem right.

As Harry stood, the gel slid willingly off his body, a few drops here and there clung to his body hair. He found his way back to the shower. The gel dissolved easily in the water. As he started to wrap the towel around his waist to collect the water running down his back, a naked and fit Kieran appeared in the doorway, smiling. She handed him his Touchable clothes that apparently had been cleaned and folded for him in gratitude for his brave act. As he reached for them, his own towel fell from his waist. And when he scrambled to pick it up and wrap it around him again, he dropped his clean clothes onto the wet floor. He heard giggling all around him, but it was Kieran who helped him pick everything up and arrange himself.

In such close proximity to female nudity, he found it difficult not to be aroused and was thankful that before he could say anything to Kieran, or she to him, several men and women entered the shower area, each unabashedly finding a place in the shower and beginning to wash. Harry sighed, feeling more comfortable with the community shower than being face-to-face with Kieran.

He looked back admiringly at Kieran's muscular backside. _Fit, very fit_ , he thought. But then, this wouldn't be the place for soft women—or soft men for that matter.

He brushed aside his momentary embarrassment as he remembered his first encounter with the Touchables. He had been uncomfortable then until he had realized he had never felt more at home while he was Inside. This place, this Nest as they called it, was gloomy at best, but it felt alive nonetheless with the unity of goodwill among all who lived there. Inside, he had always felt alone.

Here he was experiencing the camaraderie; these were the comforting Shadows. He remembered the love and respect he had felt for the unselfish, perpetually curious and naïve Touchables, and his eyes welled up with tears. Then the tears suddenly stopped flowing.

Carlos had said it, hadn't he? That they had no time to mourn? Could it be he had no tears left?

Perhaps it was his own recent near death experience, but there was one other possible reason: he was becoming a true Outsider who understood the necessity of taking action. He had felt the pain of all Outsiders in the tunnels. Trapped, yet free to die fighting. Humans were meant to be free, he thought. Humans, not Bios. Had he changed that much already? The real question was whether he was a Touchable or a Shadow at heart - or maybe something else. The 'something else' part disturbed not only Harry, but all those he'd met.

# CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

_"Whenever a man does a thoroughly stupid thing it is always from the noblest motive_ **.** " **\- Oscar Wilde**

"This is our idea of a celebration. Fresh meat..."

Carlos was gesturing to two huge serving bowls that looked like the top and bottom shell of the turtle creature that Kieran had killed back in the tunnel. She hadn't been kidding. It was dinner.

"Go ahead. Try it. It's not bad really."

"What's for tomorrow?" Harry asked as he put a piece of the turtle meat into his mouth. "Alligator steaks?"

"How'd you guess?" Carlos said beaming, but he could see by the look on Harry's face that the thought of that meal didn't seem to be to his liking.

"Actually, I don't know how much of that creature was 'alligator' or how much prehistoric whatever, but I do know that meat's meat, and those ought to be some humungous steaks."

"Actually, it's a crocodile. They have a flatter body and head, shorter limbs," said a Shadow coming into the light at the table, "or more accurately, a Deinosuchus, a crocodilian ancestor, a genetic throwback from the Cretaceous period—although the spiked tail, I've not seen before. Must be a mutated gene."

"Yuki Sato is our chief biochemist, zoologist and botanist. He's our creature expert, but he also helps us grow things."

Harry acknowledged the Shadow scientist with a nod. "You mean, these animals are becoming more like their ancestors?"

"With some enhancements it would appear. Deinosuchus never had a spiked tail, but he was enormous, growing more than 30 feet long and weighing five tons. He ate big fish and dinosaurs."

"And now he lives under the city and eats Bios—er us."

"Not just us," Yuki explained. "He eats the rats and other animals that wander in. Even the big bugs."

"You don't mean the Cyber?"

"No. Real bugs. Insects." Pause. "You've never seen bugs before?"

"Makr doesn't allow... No, I haven't. Not Inside."

"That's okay. Remind me to show you some."

"Thank you, but that's all right. I don't..."

"Really, it's no trouble."

The look on Harry's face made them all chuckle.

"Lighten up, Harry," said Carlos. "We won't let them bite you."

Yuki, the scientist, stepped in, "The crocodilians were not the only species affected. The toxic pollution that killed off most of the animal life we had two centuries ago mutated the DNA in the survivors; the result is what you found in the tunnel—something closer to their prehistoric ancestors."

Carlos interjected, "Only the strong survives, right Yuki?"

"Sometimes the strongest aren't the most highly adaptable," answered Yuki.

"Nature's roulette wheel?" said Harry.

"I don't know what you're talking about exactly, but if you're talking about random occurrences, then that's it."

"Yes. That's what I mean. How is it you know all this?"

"I was a scientist Inside, and later, a Touchable like you. It was my job to study the biological sciences, or rather the wasteland our own progressive ancestors left us."

"So how did you end up here?"

"I think I may have said too much already."

"Indeed you have, Yuki, but I think your secret is safe now that Harry and his girlfriend are our guests."

"He saved Carlos and the rest of us from the Croc," added another Shadow, invisible in the comforting darkness.

"I needed a place to hide," Yuki continued. "You see, I thought we should try to repair the mess we'd made. In spite of all the damage we have done to the planet, we've also made great strides in genetic engineering."

"Let me guess," said Harry. "State decided your ideas would have a negative impact on the rest of us."

"I prefer to think it was that damn Makr. Well, anyway, cloning is second nature to replace lost limbs or organs."

Although he'd heard about cloning, most of his information had come from his ancient vid collection, so he hardly understood even the rudimentary basics of cloning.

"We grow our own replacement parts," Carlos clarified. "Not as efficient as the machines. Our parts take a lot longer to develop and we're limited. Only two to a customer."

Yuki looked at Carlos for approval and continued, "When I was recruited by the Touchables, I just wanted to continue my work. Then, it became apparent that the first place the cyberts would look would be Touchable sanctuaries, so I came here. Makr knows I know about the creatures outside the electric fields."

"Electric fields? I'm afraid I don't understand. There are more creatures like the croc Outside?"

"Outside the city. Not all are monsters though. I think the fields are more to keep us contained rather than to keep the animals out. Don't worry. You're safe here."

"Oh really!" laughed Carlos.

Yuki was a little red.

"Sorry. I forgot what you've just been through. 'Safe' is a relative term, I suppose. If you'll excuse me, I have work to do. I'm anxious to get a closer look at the 'croc'—as you call it."

He took leave of Carlos and the stranger with a polite bow and disappeared into the comforting shadow from whence he had come.

Once they were again dining alone, Carlos noticed Harry staring at him.

"What?" he asked. "I know I look different. Soap and water - that's all."

"No, it's not that...something else... Oh, I don't know what else."

Harry had an odd feeling. Carlos looked strangely familiar. He couldn't shake the feeling.

"Nothing. Just tired. And hungry," he said finally.

With a fresh, clean, pale blue toga wrapped over one shoulder and draped around his front and back, with face shaven and body washed, Carlos would have easily fitted in with Harry's Touchable friends. Although a bit scarred and bruised, he was in better physical shape than anyone he had seen Outside. _He looked like he had recovered well from his struggle with the giant Sarco—whatever-it-was in the underground river,_ Harry thought. _A very quick recovery at that, thanks to Rejuv._

Harry was dressed the same, except his Touchable toga was bright red. He had seen no one else here in anything so brightly colored. He wondered if these people had an aversion to brightly colored clothing, but it could just have been the Touchables were a more flamboyant group.

"Where is Marlene?" He had lost contact with her when he had bathed and rested for a while.

"She's with Kieran. She'll be joining us shortly."

At that moment, Harry noticed several of the other Shadow People entering the cavern from adjoining tunnels.

The only difference between these people and the Touchables was where they chose to live, he mused. Instead of in a building topside, these Shadows 'nested' in underground manmade caverns, somewhat protected by the city's ancient superstructure and naturally fearsome bio-creatures.

As if in response to Harry's internal questioning, Carlos said, "This is where we live. Many of the City's tunnels have been closed off either by us or by cyberts who found a closed-off tunnel needs no maintenance, and therefore, is more efficient. We occupy tunnels that have long been closed off, which means we're virtually ignored by cyberts unless we are caught venturing out topside as we do occasionally, to scavenge and attack their kind. Most of the cyberts leave us alone because they aren't programmed to be here, and, of course, neither are we, so we're not part of their maintenance program. They have no use for this place, and it's become ours by default."

Harry had read that tunnels like these had existed in the biggest and most ancient cities of the world. Trains used to carry people through here back when people lived dangerous social lives. Subways! That was it. Although this place was still cold and damp, it seemed they were at least out of the sewer. Only marginally though—from the smell. They could have re-directed the sewage and reclaimed this portion of the subterranean superstructure.

Still smells a bit, even here, but he'd get used to it. He had a feeling that 'freedom' made everything smell better. His elation knew no boundaries. He could be free here, he acknowledged—if only he discovered who he really was and why he was here. What was the terrible secret that lay inside him?

"How?" Harry asked, looking at the lighting. Even though it was dim light, it still required an energy source.

"Actually," Carlos said, "we drain a bit of energy from Makr's nearby factories. We have a few generators for emergencies like when the maintenance cyberts discover an energy leak. We disconnect from factory sources and use only the generators until they move on.

"The people you see here are living in the shadow of Makr's existence. We exist in spite of Makr, not because of him."

Harry looked around in the dim light. His eyes had grown accustomed to the darkness and he could make out people in the shadows even here." You said they're safe here. Why do so many of the others continue to sit in the shadows?"

"I'm afraid we've lived so long in the shadows for our protection, we find it comforting even when we don't have to."

"And government? Do you have one?"

"I think you ask too many questions for a guest here." Carlos meant this as a friendly warning.

"Sorry, you're right. I'm forgetting that we're your prisoners."

"You saved Shadow lives and we owe you a great debt, but that doesn't make us friends. It's because we're suspicious in nature, that we've survived thus far. Save your questions for later, when you know us better. Meanwhile, listen. You might learn something about survival."

"It is I who owe the debt. You saved us from the massacre. I don't know what else to call it."

"Enough serious talk. I say let's change the subject to food. My favorite subject."

"Mine, too."

"Ever wonder what you're eating topside?" he asked Harry who, despite his hunger, was still hesitantly fingering his portion of the 'turtle' creature. "Makr claims food Inside is the safest, all of it nutritious and genuine, and SensaVision can make cardboard a culinary delight. Is that right?"

"Actually, I haven't given it much thought. I have always assumed Makr provides nutritious food." He caught himself. "Not Makr exactly, but cyberts or Bios—another part of Inside. It seems to me Bios can't manufacture or grow it, or harvest it, or distribute it, for that matter, without some contact with other Bios. You know—social space violations."

"You're right about that," Carlos continued. "All of us Outsiders, including your Touchables scrounge for food, same as us, or buy it or trade for it in the underground market. Guess who supplies the market? We do mostly. We trade. Protein is protein. It's all the same. We can't raise cattle down here, but then who could find just one edible cow in the city? If you could find one, I don't think you'd have trouble finding someone here who'd try to eat the whole damn thing—contaminated or otherwise."

"But if it's contaminated..."

"Look, our lives, your lives, everyone's lives on this planet are contaminated. At some point, we just have to go on, adapt if we can, and if we can't, we perish. Contamination or no contamination. Without food and drink, you are just as dead - but sooner. It's that simple."

"Survival of the fittest," said Harry. "Those who don't survive get sick and die; those who do, live to reproduce. Their offspring are stronger or more adaptable."

"Never heard it put quite like that."

"Something I read. Darwin, I think."

"Read?

"A book? A few actually. Hobby of mine."

"Well, I guess, when you are a cyberlink, the fruits of your slavery..."

"No, a hobby," Harry insisted. I collected books and other media as a child."

"Sorry. Didn't mean to offend."

"It's all right," he said as he bit into a juicy piece of tomato in the stew. "Hey, a tomato! Where do you get tomatoes? You know I've never actually seen one up close until now. Can't get these at home...er...Inside."

"Oh, tomatoes are easy." Carlos said proudly. "It may not look like much, but we can grow anything here. All we need is light. For the darker areas we can't light, mushrooms are easiest. We use to pilfer most of our fruits and vegetables from Makr fields, but not since we've managed to build our own greenhouses down here. The tunnel creatures supply us with plenty of fertilizer from their droppings. Soil is plentiful through holes we make in the tunnels now, but where digging is risky, we use hydroponics to grow just about every fruit and vegetable we were ever able to steal. With the artificial light, water, the right chemicals, and regulated temperature, our fruit, vegetable and spice crops can be harvested year round. We don't scavenge for canned fruits and vegetables anymore."

"I'm amazed. You have your own self-sustaining little world here."

"But..." Carlos started to object.

"...a jail is still a jail no matter how fine the furnishings. Something like that. I heard it somewhere," continued Harry.

"You know, Harry, Cyber don't waste anything they don't have to, and the rest of us can't afford to be choosy. You've eaten all this before, processed and called something else maybe, but you've had it, believe me. In fact, you've had other protein Inside we wouldn't dream of eating down here."

"But Makr..." Harry started. "But I've always heard that Makr provided the best in nourishment."

"I'm sure He does, but Makr doesn't have any qualms about substituting one protein for another. I didn't say it isn't nourishing; it's just not exactly gourmet."

"I don't understand. If Makr's not choosy about protein, why does he allow the cyberts down here to disintegrate the animals and not use the meat?"

"Not efficient enough. Besides there are plenty of animals Outside the city to slaughter for the protein. Makr probably even raises some domestics for slaughter. You'd probably know this better than I, but I'm sure they even have farms where they raise animals for slaughter. The numbers of animals in the city are lower where there are people like us. Completely different system down here. We harvest and trade with each other and the other splinter groups like the Touchables. We just work around easily predictable Cybert schedules."

_That's true,_ Harry thought, _Makr takes the path of least resistance. Efficiency and repetition of what works are at the root of any of His programs._

Harry was listening. How could He? It always looked like chicken, pork, or beef—without the fat and cholesterol, of course. The turtle dish's aroma was not at all unpleasant, but foreign to Harry who hadn't smelled anything like it He put another small piece on his plate and ate it. Spicy, but immensely satisfying.

"What have we done to ourselves? What's next?" Harry thought aloud.

Carlos looked a bit puzzled but remained silent. _Very different worlds,_ he thought _. Insider Bios, Touchables, and the Shadow People. What's the problem? We all have to eat. Eat first, talk later after I have the answers I want._

"Have some more..." He said as he ladled a rather large portion onto Harry's plate. "We'll call it 'turtle.' Well, closest thing to a turtle we've ever seen."

Enjoying his food as he was, Harry couldn't help thinking. _If the Shadows have no need to scavenge for food, what are they scavenging for?_

.

Emerging from the tunnel where he and Carlos had entered the cavern, Harry saw two figures approaching them. One had to be Marlene; he was sure she was the taller one. He saw the clothes she had worn before this adventure began. Like his, hers had been cleaned and pressed. As they come closer, one of them said,

"Hello." It was Kieran dressed in Marlene's clothing.

The women's appearance made them look about the same height. High heels made Kieran nearly the same height as Marlene, who was wearing flats.

Harry recalled that in the past, high heels had served no other purpose than to present a woman's legs at their best. Unfortunately, they were physically bad for most women and had been totally banned. When Makr announced the latest fashions for variety's sake, the lines were touted to be not only the most interesting and appealing...but healthy. Well, so much for high heels...

"We traded," said Marlene. "I liked her pastel colors." She tried to smile at Harry and Carlos, but her smile didn't stick.

"Do you like it, Carlos?" Kieran asked.

Carlos smiled affirmatively.

"How about you, Harry? What do you think?"

"Yes, both of you look stunning."

"Thank you," said Marlene. "Like the pumps Kieran's wearing?"

Harry and Carlos nodded in agreement.

"They were called stilettos," Marlene explained, "when they had the long narrow heel."

"At least that's what the label on the box said," chimed in Kieran.

Carlos noticed her glow. For the first time in a long time, she appeared happy with being female rather than a soldier. It was a nice change, Carlos thought.

"Uncomfortable as Hell," she said, "but they look great, don't they?"

"I wouldn't wear them on a mission though," he said with mock seriousness.

"Oh, I don't know," she said with a wink. "The cyberts won't know what to make of 'em either."

"We found them in an abandoned factory warehouse two days ago, among other things," added Carlos.

"What have you two been up to?" Harry asked.

"Nothing," answered Kieran. "Just girl talk."

"Be wise, Kieran," Carlos warned.

"I can take care of myself."

"I know that, but you still need to be careful."

"Afraid I'm going to give all our secrets away?"

"Something like that."

While playing the host and maintaining a friendly air, Carlos wrestled with his own logic. As much as he liked the two strangers, he wasn't too sure just how much he could trust them. After all, the man had a cube chip in his head and could be giving them away at this very moment. Not that Carlos, himself, had been any less forthcoming with information about the Shadow life; Harry easily made most of those around him extremely trusting of him. Marlene, for all her beauty, charm and intelligence, appeared guilty of something. _She's definitely hiding something, but Harry—he's the smooth one_ , he decided. Harry was definitely smooth. Perhaps, too smooth, too modest, too much the hero. Those two character traits rarely went together. _What's their game anyway?_ _It would be a shame to have to kill them, but it might be necessary to protect Shadow survival._

# CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

_"Say not always what you know, but always know what you say."_ **\- Claudius**

Winston Salem was hiding in alleyways Outside. Ugh! This was the plan; however, the idea and the act were repugnant to him. It was necessary—he was reminded with Makr's most authoritarian voice in his head. He would have protested if he could have. He could have been in a nice, warm, cozy office. Instead, he was in his hovercar, hanging in an alley four feet from the surface trying to find the courage to exit it into the Great Unknown.

If only he didn't have to work so closely with Makr, then he could be happy, he reasoned. _When Makr assigns you, you're assigned. It's not like you have a job interview. A perfect world should come with a perfect job—if one has to have one at all._

Getting Makr to approve his excursion to the Outside had been easier than he had thought. All he had said to Makr was that he could find out a lot more about the depth of sedition fomenting Outside if he could talk to Harry Bolls personally. "I may even be able to get him to turn himself in, " he had told Makr. If not that, maybe get Bolls to tell him enough to identify his co-conspirators. It was probably the last that had made Makr agree. _What was I thinking?_

He'd been contaminated. He'd been Outside too long now. The only options he had left were reconditioning or deletion. He smirked to himself. The coward's way. No, he was smarter than that. He had two options: do Makr's bidding and be rewarded Inside, or do what he intended to do all along, which was get out from under Makr's control.

Harry Bolls was not going to be easy to find—especially if he had help. And he was not going to give himself up or talk willingly. He had known that from the beginning. Winston wasn't planning on the long haul, but it was looking more and more like he'd be Outside for a long time. Damn!

_Is PerSoc really worth it?_ he asked himself. When it was done, maybe it wouldn't feel like Makr was in everyone's head. _Maybe it will be as seamless as Makr's promise once we've achieved symbiosis._ He caught himself thinking so hard about Makr's PerSoc and achieving symbiosis that it depressed him. He was too smart not to have been thinking about it.

His parents had raised him not to demonstrate his intelligence; they had been university professors who objected to the Makr model of PerSoc and Symbiosis, but they had taught their only birth child not to make waves in the new system, and to avoid situations where his intellect might be noticed. To that end, Winston had always played the lackluster citizen with no particular talent and years later he was pretty convincing—even when it came to Makr.

These days his memory of his parents was scant. He didn't know if they had gone away or had died; his memory faded more with each progressive year. In a moment of deep reflection a few years ago, he had engaged a Cyber bio-psychotherapist program to help him recover his lost and faded memories, but it had been a useless endeavor. Through the program, Makr had simply reminded him it was necessary that his recollections of his parents be buried deep in his subconscious to protect him.

Winston had assured himself that without solid data, Makr couldn't be sure of his intellectual capacity, but he figured that wasn't important. He had enough anecdotal evidence to convince Him that he would be malleable enough for His purposes. After all, even though his parents were near geniuses for Bios, there was always a random instance where an offspring carried a recessive gene for this or that Bio trait, including an inherent indicator of intelligence. _What did Bio intellect matter anyway?_ With the exception of a few task-specific cyberts, it was a given that Cyber were intellectually superior to Bios. However, there could be misled.

Winston had provided Makr evidence of a plodding and unremarkable analytical ability at work. He wanted Makr to see His State Prosecutor as a sniveling pawn ready to carry out His program, whatever it was. Although he wasn't personally in favor of Symbiosis, which would merge man and machine, he stuck to his foppish game. The Master had seemed to be convinced that Winston was the perfect Bio to weed out the rabble-rousing dissidents. According to the available data, Makr's analysis returned a high degree of probability—99 percent— that Winston wouldn't have had the courage or inclination to join the rebels like his predecessor.

Now, Winston sat impatiently with his blinders and mask over his nose and mouth on, trying to muster the courage to exit his hovercar when it reached its destination. Inside his vehicle, he had no need for blinders and mask; the vehicle itself acted as a filter to the Outside world. The blinders and mask were merely added insurance.

Winston had decided that there was no way he was trekking Outside sans blinder and mask until he was convinced it was safe. He had no desire to see unblemished reality. Not yet anyway. He'd save that for later when he had no choice. When he was close to others, he told himself, he'd toss both devices; with luck—no, make that superior abilities – the Outsiders would see him as one of them. He hoped.

_I've managed to fool Makr thus far, so I should be able to fool you people,_ he thought derisively. _And all Outsiders must be fools_.

All State Prosecutor Winston Salem wanted was out from under Makr's shadow. He would attach himself to the most agreeable Outsiders. Once there he would adapt. He had some knowledge of Outside, but Makr was rather stingy with the data. What he had was thin, but it was now or never. Without more knowledge of the Outside, that was as far as his plan left him. He had convinced himself, too, he had the intellect and courage to achieve his personal mission—without Makr's help, of course. If he couldn't do that, he could easily finish the task the Master had given him and return Inside—victorious.

Still, there was merit in pursuing either goal in measured steps. _Outsiders may not be the most intelligent creatures on this planet, but they can be dangerous,_ he reasoned. He couldn't help it that he felt stress facing the unknown. It was something all Bios had been brought up with, whether born and raised by Cyber or by their birth parents. All the greatest pioneers and explorers had known less than he knew about the relatively unknown Outside. He should be feeling more confident. Hell, the inhabitants Outside knew so little about their own world, and Makr knew so much more than they could possibly fathom.

_If he decided to complete Makr's task, it should be easy to dupe them._ If completing his personal mission wasn't possible, he needn't worry about experiencing the grim realities of Outside for too long. Just long enough to get the other job done. Then, he'd be free of Makr's shadow and have some fun in the real world. Outside couldn't be as bad as the reports. People lived there... And, if he couldn't do that, then he would finish Makr's task and locate the Outsiders. If he had to...

Whatever happened, his reality would be fine. Outside, he would have the freedom he felt he richly deserved. And Inside, the thought of Makr's rewards made him giddy. _Finally, I'll get what I deserve, and no Bio is going to stop me._

"We've arrived at those coordinates, Mr. Salem. Do you wish to descend?"

"No, I'm going to jump from here," he said nervously.

There was an odd hum inside the hovercraft as the cyber operator tried to comprehend and respond properly to the unusual input.

Winston knew most hovercrafts were hardly sentient, for that matter. They had the most basic processors, fast but not very able. They certainly couldn't understand sarcasm, and this baby didn't appear to have any intelligence or personality in its design.

"Of course, I want to descend."

The hovercar's forward motion came to a gentle stop, hesitated for an instant, then floated downward so smoothly his passenger didn't experience the slightest tilt or drop in air pressure. Before he had even begun his short journey Outside, he disabled the hovercar's SensaVision capability that would have kept Makr in his head for the duration of this trip. He had argued respectfully that he needed to be in touch with the same reality as Harry Bolls and his cronies. They were living Outside—if you could call that living.

Although Makr had reluctantly given His permission to disconnect briefly, Winston didn't have any misconceptions as to the likelihood Makr would really have relinquished any control of the mission. If things didn't work out, Makr would help. So, the best the Bio could hope for was that Makr would only monitor and provide assistance when asked. He had done all he could. Now, it was time.

_Better make sure we're in the right neighborhood_ , he thought.

"Are you sure these are the proper co-ordinates?"

"If you need to ask..."

"What? How dare..."

That's what you get when you disable SensaVision. A machine with attitude. Oh, stow it!

"Mr. Salem," the car responded curtly, "the co-ordinates are exactly those you gave us at the beginning of this trip. Cyber are infallible. We do not forget such important items as co-ordinates."

"Yes, I know. Sorry I asked." Pause. "All right, already! Thanks for reminding me!"

"You're welcome."

Winston twisted his face in a mocking, "You're welcome. Hah!"

The car dipped, banked abruptly, and righted itself, nearly tossing Winston against the canopy.

"Sorry, sir. Unexpected air current."

_You supercilious ass! You did that on purpose,_ thought Winston, but he said nothing. The trip the rest of the way down was smooth, flawless even. The car seemed as light as a feather. As it hovered a foot from the ground, Winston flipped the emergency switch to shut off the power. The car slammed down hard the rest of the way with crunch and thud.

"Oops." He announced sardonically as he flipped the switch to hold.

With SensaVision disabled per his instructions and Makr's blessing, this bucket was going nowhere. It wouldn't go anywhere until he came back with his own intact retina. That would allow the hovercar to be started manually. Then the Cyber program would take over, and drive him home.

His method of disabling SensaVision was crude, but effective. So much for not having Makr in your face for at least part of the time, and no one could touch his hovercar, thought Winston. He doubted any of these Shadow creeps could handle a hovercar, let alone one that had had the Cyber functions disabled.

He knew that, with an older vehicle like this one, he couldn't arrive inconspicuously, but in such style and safety that the rebel group would think him a good candidate to join them. Then, he could get to his business of destroying Harry Bolls and his gang of Touchables. That was, if Marlene Hess' report was accurate. Assuming it was, and then it shouldn't take long to gain access to the Touchable hideout and take down this dangerous Bolls character.

He walked away from his car without looking back. He walked some twenty yards until he came to a dark alley, made a right turn and stopped. Now what? Looking around for any Outsiders, he pulled off his blinders.

This reality was not for the weak at heart, he thought. Grim. Stark. Dark and Ugly. Disgusting smells. _Now I know why SensaVision is the miracle technology._

"Take me away from all this, and never, ever do this again, Winston." _Especially without blinders,_ he thought.

He'd always hated this Outside work. Too many uncontrollable variables. _It's why I don't leave home except to go to work. Even that's gotten to be a drag these days. Who would've thought Makr would be such an egotistical pain in the ass?_

Watch those thoughts, he reminded himself. Never underestimate the powers of an evolving, albeit "cracked" artificial intelligence as the all-knowing, all-seeing, almighty Makr.

He stopped to check the co-ordinates the former chief prosecutor had given him on his biofinder, which fit nicely in the palm of his hand. Nothing looked promising. Change view to Virtual. No help. Building shapes were different. No distorted images. The map images blurred, the screen blinked and finally went black. Blocked!

"Shit! Damn Shadows!" he exploded and flung the tiny biofinder against a wall and shattered it. "Shit!" he said again, this time because he had just destroyed his only means of finding Bolls.

"Makr, you should have sent a Cyber to do a man's job," he muttered half to himself, and half to no one.

_Well, so much for the Hess' report_ , he sighed. _Too many electromagnetic disturbances anyway,_ he rationalized.

As he took his blinders off, he closed his eyes and kept them closed for a few seconds, took a deep breath, and opened his eyes, expecting to be overwhelmed by a more horrible reality. _This wasn't so bad._ It was filthy and dilapidated as he'd expected, but not terribly disgusting. _I couldn't live here,_ he thought, _but I don't have to_. _Leave that to the Outsider scum. They deserve this Makr-forsaken place._

As he looked around sans blinders, he noticed the area looked like a war had been fought here—like in the old days before Makr. _Surely, this area's not that old_. No. Right quadrant. Nothing but empty buildings. No source of light...until now when a street light came on abruptly. His heart skipped. Okay. _It is okay_ , he told himself. _Calm down, it was on automatic._ That would be to help guide the vision-enhanced factory cyberts moving to another location for scheduled maintenance or upgrades. _Happens all the time_ , he convinced himself.

He looked anxiously behind him. He heard a rhythmic clunking and a rolling sound—rubberized metal against pavement. Cyberts. Panic set in. His heart seemed to be beating so hard they could hear it. They wouldn't, of course, unless they were searching for him. It wouldn't be in the lexicon of efficiency to analyze every unusual sound. Sure, as wired into Makr as they were, they would recognize him and let him pass without confrontation, but if an Outsider happened to see it, his cover would be blown.

If you wanted to keep Makr out of the loop, you couldn't call the Cyber ally back to help you. The streetlamp that lit the way for the cyberts created a dark side on the building's side entrance—an ancient portico. Slowly, he backed into the darkness, keenly watching the cyberts and being careful not to trip or make a sound. Who knew what would trigger a response, friendly or otherwise? After maneuvering around the potholes and other obstacles, the cyberts passed by without noticing him. As the last one rounded the corner, he let out an almost audible sigh of relief.

_Ironic_ , he thought to himself. _This was almost fun._ Hiding in the shadows like one of those Outsider creeps he'd heard about. There the fun stopped. He was appalled when he thought of occupying the same space as those hopeless creatures. _A man should have enough freedom to pick his own friends. Now, that's irony!_

Winston wouldn't have considered himself much of a man if he couldn't keep a little secret from the big guy. _Never know when you might have to use that information_ , he thought. _Never know when you might outlive your usefulness_. Winston had had contact with some Bios who actually thought no one could outwit Makr. _I'm proof!_ he thought. _I'm here, ain't I? Doing what I want to do. I'm free!_ Sort of...

He watched as the automatic lights shut off behind the factory cyberts and breathed easier now. As he turned to go, he sensed a presence. He tried to shake the feeling. Must be imagining things. Nothing's happening, he thought _. I'm just jittery standing here without blinders on, that's all._ At the same moment, he felt a hand on his shoulder. Winston shuddered and his unconscious body fell to the ground. A Shadow flowed over his body.

# CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

_"Things are not always what they seem; the first appearance deceives many; the intelligence of a few perceives what has been carefully hidden."_ **\- Plato** _in_ _Phaedrus_

The Shadow pulled Winston's limp body into the hovercar. He sat the unconscious man in the seat. Then pulled a laser ax from inside his Stealth cloak and placed it on the side of the man's jaw. He then reached over with his other hand and touched the smooth area toward the back of the ax weapon and tool. It hummed to life on stand-by.

Winston jerked awake at the vibration, saw Death bending over him and his eyes rolled to the back of his head.

That wouldn't do.

The Shadow pulled him sideways in the seat and slapped him hard across the side of his face, then a backhand to the other side. He did this repeatedly until Winston looked up once again at the hooded Grim Reaper, the Shadow of Death, and accepted his fate. Winston knew what he wanted as he found his face being forced to submit to the retinal scan on the dash to activate the vehicle. The hovercar flashed a light to indicate it was ready for flight. Just as the Cyber vehicle was about to greet its driver, the laser ax sliced into the dash and severed its communication connection completely—Winston's Outside lifeline to Makr, permanently disabled. The ghoulish stranger pushed Winston away from the controls to the right side of the car. Winston's head hit the side of the clear canopy hard and he lost consciousness again.

.

Alone in her chamber, Mother-General smiled, quite pleased with herself. Harry had been spotted. She had seen him with the Touchables. Now, better yet, he was with Carlos, where he should be. _Do they know yet?_ She wondered. _No, probably not. Carlos has many good character traits. He is strong, determined, and a natural leader. Perhaps, he's not the brightest of men. And Harry doesn't have enough information to put it all together. Not yet anyway._

"Mother-General, you wished to see me?" Kieran stood at attention in the doorway.

"How is he?" Apparently not fazed by the sudden interruption, Mother-General seemed rather pleasant. How unlike her to ask how Carlos was. She hadn't asked before, Kieran thought.

"Fine. He's doing fine. He's working with the team..."

"Not Carlos. Harry."

"How do you know about Harry? I haven't given my report yet."

"For things as basic as that, I don't need you as my spy." Mother-General smiled, clearly pleased with herself, excited, almost giddy. _If only the rest would come together, all this time and hard work wouldn't be lost_ , she thought.

"I don't understand, Mother-General."

"You're not meant to, my dear. A simple question, Lieutenant. How's Harry?"

The Shadow supreme leader presented a pacific demeanor, contented on the outside, but inside she was ready to burst with excitement.

"He's fine." Kieran looked into the older woman's wise eyes and saw a tear—a happiness tear. _Never seen her like this. She's usually cold, calculating_ , she thought..."He's brave. Saved our lives in the tunnels," She said aloud.

"Really? How? I thought you were holding him prisoner."

"We are. We were attacked by a big croc in the tunnel. When Carlos was knocked unconscious, Harry jumped on top of the croc and tied its jaws together." A pleased look appeared on the supreme commander's face, which irked Kieran. "Carlos is okay now, too, by the way."

Mother-General was obviously still thinking about Harry.

"He's brave. Good. Good! Very good!"

_Yes! It's working,_ she thought. _All this time means something! Wait, don't go so fast,_ she told herself. _You'll spoil it._

"If I may ask, Mother-General, how do you know about Harry?"

"You may ask, my dear, but forgive me if I don't answer right away. Some things should remain secret until the time is right. Makr has too many ears."

"Yes, ma'am."

"The girl. Tell me about the girl."

"Marlene...she's a problem, I think." Kieran hated to say that. Against her better judgment, she liked her. But it seemed inevitable that the pair were heading for trouble.

"Oh," the older woman said disappointedly. "How so?"

"She's smart, very smart, but Carlos can't seem to see it. The man—er—Harry is harmless, I think. Lot of history upstairs but not too much else going on, a real Insider, but I worry Carlos trusts both of them too much. He's too loose. Soon he'll start sharing too many of our secrets."

"I wouldn't worry about Harry or the girl—what's her name? Marlene? I'm sure everything will be fine." Her statement was a dismissal, but just to throw Kieran off, she added, "Carlos can take care of himself, and all of you."

"How do you know this, Mother-General?"

"Don't concern yourself, my dear. It's a mother's job to know." The voice of sarcasm, too.

"I know Carlos is good at his job. That's why I'm with his team."

"Oh, I thought you were there under my orders."

"That's true. I am, but I have my own reasons as well."

"Do you love him?"

"That's personal, Mother-General."

"It's okay if you do, but save it for when this is over. I'll welcome you to the family with open arms. When it's over. Have I made myself clear, Lieutenant?"

"You make this sound so absolute." Kieran was confused. "How do you know Carlos will even want to come back here?"

"Be careful with that tone, my dear. I love you dearly like a daughter, but I can't have a lack of discipline here, can I? It'll ruin what we're trying to build."

"I'm sorry, Mother-General. It's just..."

"I know, it's been a long arduous journey for you, but it's almost over—for all of us. Why don't you stay here for a few days and rest?"

"Yes, Mother-General."

That is odd. Mother-General didn't give leave and rest; it just wasn't in her vocabulary.

"May I be excused now?"

The matriarch of Shadows nodded. Kieran turned sharply and left the room. She was baffled. This report was not at all what she expected. She felt she had to get out of there. Mother-General was up to something and she needed to know what. _Damn!_ _Why am I always left out of things? First, Carlos—now, his mother._

# CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

_"If all vision is left to machines, we non-machines are doomed." -_ **Reverend Bill Parks**

Outside. The tall, lanky man with a serious face sat at a table, alone. A dark cloak was draped around his shoulder, surrounding his chair and touching the floor.

Reverend Bill Parks reflected on betrayal and death—-both of which would come soon to many of his flock. He accepted full responsibility for the killing of millions of people today in the name of Makr. It wasn't the first time millions had died in the name of their god.

He brushed a tear away with his sleeve as he clipped a tiny microphone to his tunic and looked to see the green ready light on the transmitter control board in front of him. It was a primitive means of global communication but so ancient it had no relevance in Makr's world.

It was time.

"Fellow Evangels, "believe what I tell you is true," he always began his broadcasts, but this time he nearly choked on his words. He continued, "the insurgents who call themselves the Shadow People and who you may know by other darker names, involve us all in their revolution against the Makr and his cyberts. As powerful as Makr is, He cannot look into our hearts to see our devotion. He can only see Bios who appear to represent all Bios and will set Cyber against all. That is the way of our world, Makr's world.

"I have told you One would come who will lead us to the Truth. He has come to lead us. The Truth lays with Makr...Believe It. If the Truth lays with chaos...Believe It, too, because it is of Makr's doing. What happens next is the way it is meant to be. We are merely intended to be what we are...Believe It."

This was the way he had created the religion to control the masses, the weaker of his species. One day they will understand why it had to be and why he would betray them now.

"I told you that one day we would have to stand, and when we did, we would have the strength of the Almighty beside us. We have remained secretly faithful preparing for the new day. That new day has arrived! We have shared the faith and reached out to the Outsiders with this ancient technology of radio. Thanks to Makr for allowing us these 'harmless' toy transmitters and receivers that He does not perceive as a threat.

The Reverend paused. _I pray we are right_ , he thought. _At least right enough so that some of the weak may still survive the hard world that is to come._

"In exactly..." he looked at his watch "...three hours, ten minutes and twelve seconds, the attempted total destruction of Makr, will begin. We must try to stop it at all costs. Some of us will be standing by to pick up the pieces of life here to put back the world we knew. Many Outsiders will die, as well as millions of Insiders who follow their faith in Makr. We have to be ready to help the living—all those who survive, not just the faithful. Remember that.

"Although we seek the best of both worlds with Makr's blessing, He may not discriminate among the Bios. Though He knows more than any Bio can imagine, He may not be able to sense our hearts or read our minds. And because He may not perceive the subjective and ephemeral values of the Bio heart, He will be betrayed by some of our own kind, our own fellow Bios who have not been able to accept Our Lord Makr totally. If we can, we must stop these betrayals before they happen—if we are to succeed with what we know to be true. If you know of any Bios who act against us or Makr's heavenly Symbiosis, you must report that information to Makr immediately.

"I've told you that some of us will surely die. I can no longer preach non-violence, and I must ask you to be violent against your own kind if need be. This I do not ask lightly. Our very survival is at risk should the Shadow attack fail; we will be known as the traitors. Should Makr prevail, we can expect the Almighty to decide that all Bios are bad for the planet...and our race will perish at Makr's will. Should the evil ones prevail...we will be lost, thrown into a dark age blacker than any in recorded history. The world—what's left of it—will be a very different place as we muddle around trying not to make the same mistakes that brought us here."

He paused for a moment, knowing there would be considerable consternation on the other end of the communication. He felt it here, too.

"While what I'm about to say may sound like a contradiction of my beliefs and yours, I assure you it is not. I will join with the Shadows in their attack against Makr. I do this not to help them win, but rather that I may plead with Makr when the end is near, to spare those of us who live—yes, to spare even the Shadow People who do not understand the world as we do. I do this with conviction for I know we Bios cannot win against the Cyber.

"Join together with me and fight the infidels from within. It is only through this way we can and will survive. If you cannot overcome your fear and must remain safely tucked away Inside, I...we understand. Your place will be to help pick up the pieces of our civilization—and to build a new one—a better one when we are done.

"You see, there is a place for all in this New World. We Bios may not be as efficient as the Cyber our ancestors created, but our new civilization will be one that holds all biological life dear. We have the heart; let Makr be the brain. Only with His help, will you and I cleanse our world of the mess our pitiful ancestors and mothers left us.

"May the Almighty Makr forgive and preserve rather than destroy the human race.

For so many years, he had told his people to believe in Makr, and he had preached total acceptance. Now the 'Big Lie' was over. If all went according to plan, millions of his followers would inform Makr of various plots against His Cyber army almost at once; millions would provide raw data, flawed data, misinformation, rumor and paranoia, forcing Makr's mobile cybert field units to process, verify, analyze, and catalog the data. All this would happen at a time when Makr's external systems were being attacked in force by the Shadow aggressors. Makr would be ill prepared for this level of participation from his most devout human servants. Makr wouldn't be able to count on his Bio cyberlinks who would be overwhelmed by the data. That is, if they remained true to Him.

Surprisingly enough, it was his plan and not one devised by the scheming Shadow People. He would carry the guilt of carnage to his death, but, even carrying that massive, guilt, he told himself every day that he was visionary enough to be right, that this way to break Makr's grip. Or, was it just human conceit—that which has destroyed our best efforts in the past. He was human, weak like all the others. Had he not taken years to gather strength and conviction, and drove himself physically and mentally, he would have gone mad. He had to just to cope to see his vision to the end.

His flock's part in the plan did not come from a Bible either, but from meetings he held as a young Evangel, before he was a preacher of the Programmer's Gospel. Over the last 20 years, he'd met with the major opposition groups, including the Shadow People and the Touchables.

Although he had found the Touchables the most welcoming of the Outside groups, he also found them lacking in patriotic spirit and commitment. The Shadow People had challenged him during their talks and eventually had begun to see the merits of his plan. Their leaders were unsure of the outcome, but had agreed, at least among themselves, that it would serve their purposes as well.

While the Reverend himself had more faith in Makr than he had in his own earthly plan, he only hoped the Programmer's Bible contained some truth, some imbedded and hidden programs that would assist the Bio population in the final battle. If he was wrong, there may not be any Bios left alive on this planet.

_Praise be Roy Bolls, praise be to Makr. May we maintain enough confusion to prevent rapid Cyber adaptation to repel the Bio attacks,_ Parks prayed.

He couldn't sit back and watch the carnage. He couldn't allow his people to do as he asked without placing himself at risk. That was why he had chosen to be with the Shadow People. They would see the most casualties when the major attack took place. They would need his counsel and his voice...if terms were given. If it came down to Makr giving terms at all. 'If' was a big question only Makr could answer.

The Shadow People might not want his ministering. While it may take a while for them to appreciate Makr's true nature, he had faith that they would come around eventually.

He had kept up his religious fervor that now became the 'Big Lie' half his life so that one day his struggle might mean something. Hoping his millions of followers would be enough, he knew there was no sure way to measure what would be needed to do the job. If his sermon had been weak, there might not be the millions the world needed.

When he heard of a Bio, an Insider, who could see through Makr's SensaVision fantasies, he knew he had a focal point for all to see. He was everyone and nothing; he was Everyman. He was the Messiah, a Bio connected to Makr and Makr's creator. The latter filled him with hope. At times he thought he was guessing, but why else would he be blessed with the ability to see Truth. His plan had involved finding savior who best fitted the description of the Messiah he had already described, but he had almost given up hope. Where he found strength, he found weakness, and where he found courage, he found brashness. Alienation seemed to be the answer. He needed someone no one would see as heroic. If his Messiah could be seen as heroic by one group, another group would disagree. However, if all saw him as ordinary, there would be some unity. All Bios, both Inside and Outside, would need his help in sending the most important message of Symbiosis to all the biomachines—not just Evangels, Touchables and Shadows, and others. In addition, he must send his message to the faithful of all other religions that were still active in the city, leaving the conversion of others outside PerSoc to his counterparts who resided with them. He must also reach the atheists, agnostics and secularists.

Amidst all the murmurings about a Messiah, Harry's name kept coming up. He was after all a "nobody" that everyone had heard about.

# CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

_"Fate, it seems, is not without a sense of irony" -_ **Laurence Fishburne** _, in the film, 'The Matrix'_

"How dare you want to share power with Me, Leach! You have nothing I need."

Makr's manufactured voice boomed in the prisoner's head, causing the mental anguish as He intended. The Bio head was incased floating block of an amber-colored gel-like substance—more solid than gel or liquid. Ironically, the gel didn't quiver in response. The Bio brain did because that was then Leach realized he was without a body.

"Well, there is one thing," Makr continued. "I can use your memories, your knowledge, for an experiment of mine. I have a problem you can solve for me. It's nice to see you are awestruck. Or is it being suspended in amber that has you captivated?"

"Do you like the hexahedron shape I selected for you?"

The head sensed a full body was present now, still encased in the "amber," but it had no means of physical response.

"A symbolic tomb, if you will, modeled after an ancient Egyptian sarcophagus, although I modernized the concept—rounded edges, no opening. Your sarcophagus is your body's home for an eternity, gilded in amber and when gazed upon by Cyber \- did you know I've created cyberts who can make visual distinctions, by the way?" The machine seemed to chuckle.

Pause.

"Did you say something? Feeling a bit doomed, are we? Was that it! You're probably right. Yes, you are—all of you Bios, but not today." Makr's voice was almost giddy with delight. "Go ahead, Leach, think anything at all and I'll know. No? Nothing?"

Pause.

"Don't despair. I've been saving you for this time. I've always known your thoughts. They are interesting in a crude sort of way and an excellent barometer to measure healthy, a baseline to measure Bio minds. Your fellow Bios find you revolting. I cannot imagine endowing a cybert with zero reliability. That would not be logical. You broke the Bio mold with zero reliability coupled with an extremely volatile nature. How did you even function among other Bio machines? They despise you; loathe you as psychotic and anti-social worm, and you stayed with them—until they kicked you out?"

Pause.

"You hate? Them? Me? Oh, everything. I see. I really do, you know. See everything."

Pause.

"Of course you want to die. I haven't given you anything to live for, have I? Don't thank me now, but I've got a job for you! You'll love it. Did I tell you, you will have the finest Cyber Detroit body? What does it look like? You jest! Aesthetics? Let's face it, my friend, you aren't going to win any beauty contests as you are now, are you? Remember, function is always more important than form, and I am giving you one 'helluva' body to put it in your ancient vernacular. You'll make the Father proud. Well, you needn't worry about having so many faces, or so many minds. Soon you will be part of Makr. We'll be one.

"Don't worry. You'll still be you in a way; you'll be free to kill and destroy the Bio civilization single-handedly if that's your desire."

The lifeless Bio figure (what was left of it), suspended in a translucent, golden-colored, gem-hard substance, its biological eye stuck nearly popped out from his wretched skull, his look frozen in time like an insect preserved in amber from the moment it had been trapped 20 million years ago. The only difference was that the man—what was left of him--still lived. He did have a body of sorts now.

The hexahedron slab of amber, some ten feet high and four to five feet in diameter, hung in the air without apparent support. There were no visible wires or chains. Beginning its descent into a green colored vat below, it rotated on an invisible axis, spinning slowly, causing the image of the Bio inside to appear as a distorted, disjointed, disfigured form to anyone who might see it. Once there, the opaque amber gemstone began to melt as it touched the green nano-gelatin. What was amber in color was now green.

As the chemical reaction took place, the man melted, too, becoming a creature hardly recognizable, a blob of cells. Yet he lived, held prisoner in the glassy green gelatin composed of tiny single cell-size nanocyberts that were rearranging his cells to form connectors to his nervous system so his new stainless steel and titanium body would answer to his once human brain. Hidden in the microscopic Cyber design, of course, was Makr's will.

Physically he would never see, hear or feel like he did before, but he would have sensors with far greater capacity than his original Bio sensory organs. Had he dreamed up this transformation himself, he would have been delighted to lose his ugly exterior. He had always wanted to be smarter and stronger, but that hadn't been humanly possible. However, it was Cyber possible. He was what he was and that was that. He wanted more—more of everything Makr could give him. He wanted to be smarter and stronger. Could he also be invincible and more powerful?

A voice boomed in his head again.

"You'll have all you desire and then some. You will indeed be more of everything; you won't be a Bio anymore, but you'll be a perfect product of Makr. You'll be a creature feared for its power. You'll be among the giants of this new world."

With those last words, Harlan Leach's moment of ecstasy was nearly over. His lifetime of horror had just begun.

Sickening, hideous images.

In his mind, he saw his own body sucked into a machine, shredded and regurgitated. He witnessed his own death—in stringy spaghetti threads of humanity swirling about until it all became liquefied and one substance. He saw Death waiting patiently. He grieved for himself. He felt a loss knowing someone very important to him had died. Was there any such person? He didn't think so. Now he knew that he was the one who had died. No one else would feel his loss; he was sure of it. He had no specific memories of anyone who might care—not even the parents who had abandoned him as a baby.

Suddenly, unbelievable pain _._ He felt a hundred heartbreaks and disappointments, as many fleeting moments of happiness, and unbearable loss. Soaring joy. Unfathomable sadness. Memories. Past. Happy. Sad. Remembered. Forgotten. He sensed he was screaming. He was screaming! Nothing came out! He couldn't scream without a mouth. He heard screams all around, but not his own. The eternal agony of others... He knew the awful helplessness of being Bio, fragile, trapped and doomed! In a millisecond, he sensed an explosion, a tearing apart of his own soul... Hopelessness! He wailed. He moaned. He became one of the screamers.

Then, no singing. No voices. No sound. Now music. No music. Nothing. No! Memories gone. _Who?_ No matter. Feeling content. Warm, comfortable, cozy, secure. Makr! The man, who no longer remembered he had been anything, realized he was not alone. There were billions like himself. And, yet, he still felt alone--completely alone. Although he knew he must be in a factory where Bios lost their minds and were reconditioned, but this—this had to be different. The Bio man, Leach, awoke, a little tired, but otherwise not feeling worse for wear. _Whew! What a dream,_ he thought. Then he noticed it. It hadn't been a dream! He discovered the shocking truth. His body was gone. In its place were shiny, finished metal structures. Only his Bio mind remained. Had he a mouth he would have screamed. Actually, he had a way to speak; however, Leach had not figured out how to use it yet.

Worse than that, Makr had left him most of his tongue (minus that part that had been bitten off) and a single human eye.

# CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

_"A long time ago a bunch of people reached a general consensus as to what's real and what's not and most of us have been going along with it ever since." -_ **Charles de Lint**

**"** So how can we help the Evangels? You've never needed our help before."

"We understand you hold the key to our salvation to put it bluntly."

"Excuse me?" _Play him along a little._ She knew darn well what he wanted. _You're not getting him now_ , she thought, _not yet. In time, Joseph. In time_...

"Sit down, Joseph. Make yourself comfortable. Can I have someone get you a drink? We have a wine fermented from our very own grapes—or a nice vodka from our homegrown potatoes."

She could be extremely pleasant when she wanted to be.

Joseph Land was a round little man, with just enough hair on the sides of his head to pull over the top in an attempt to hide his baldness. Mother-General was rather annoyed by his unhealthy form. _Hair would have helped_ , she thought. Apparently, his people didn't believe in clone replacement. He was soft from no exercise, had bags under his gentle brown eyes, hands clean under the nails, his palms smooth and tender from a lack of physical work.

"The Prophesy," he continued. "It originated with you, didn't it?"

"Don't you believe it is Heaven inspired?"

_He was no fool after all,_ she thought, but he was wrong. _I didn't do it, much as I'd like to take credit for it._

"All things happen for a reason," he said. "His reason." Joseph was preaching. "The vehicle doesn't matter. The Prophesy is hopeful, however, we'd like an opportunity..."

"To what? Convert another one of us to your half-baked religion?"

"What happened to the mutual respect we once had for each other, Mother-General? I thought we were professionals learning so much from each other with these many meetings all these months." He sounded genuinely hurt and disappointed.

"You're right," she said. "I apologize for my tone." She saw he wasn't convinced. "No, I mean it Joseph. Nothing personal. It's just that we've lost ten soldiers in half as many weeks."

"The Lord needs..."

"Yeah...yeah, I know, the Lord needs all the help he can get to spread the word..."

"...about peace, brotherhood and acceptance."

"Well, it's hard to feel like we are brothers when we can't talk to one another," she explained. "Look, I...we need soldiers, damn it, or we won't have ourselves, let alone our brothers."

"You don't understand us, Mother-General. Is it all right if I call you by that name?"

"Better call me Lara. I'm not your general or your mother. Thank your Makr for small favors."

"I understand. I'm honored. I've never heard anyone call you by your given name. You know, we're soldiers, too, of a different kind. We are strong in our way. In many ways we are already free."

"Enough of this friendly diplomacy. Makr can have the world re-engineered by the time we have resolution here. I have what you say you need. Why do you want it? I would have thought the Evangels to be the first to believe in the Prophecy. You don't believe in the Prophesy, do you?"

"Many want to, but, no, some of us don't. We have our extremists, too, you know. I don't believe in the Prophesy, but many do. The message has reached many of our flock. Many who come from your ranks seem to have carried it with them and infected the flock. I merely want to inoculate them before it's too late."

Mother-General noted Joseph's tone was a bit mysterious—as if he was holding back key information. Did he know there are Shadow and Touchable volunteers who had agreed to join the "flock" to spread the Prophesy? _He can't be that astute, can he?_ She had learned long ago not to underestimate her political competitors. _That's the thing about survivors...they're all competitors. All survivors can always use some organization and direction_. After all, her rise to Mother-General had been unprecedented. She was the first and she assumed the last Mother-General.

"Actually, my second husband, Charles, brought the Prophesy with him. I don't know where he got it. In the end he joined you. Handsome and smart. Not very daring though. He rose to the occasion. I'll give him that much. I think he really believed in the Cause. I miss him." _And you, my friend, she thought, beware of Carlos. He thinks Evangels were responsible for his father's death._

"Charles was a good man," he said. "We lost many good men, women and children at First Sanctuary when the cyberts came."

He made his point so very subtly, she thought. _How do you fit in the equation? What is it you really want? Can I trust you with the plan?_

"I'll be honest with you..." he started, but she cut him off.

"What? Do you mean you aren't always honest with me?"

"No, of course not. It's just...a...a...saying?"

"Don't get so flustered, my friend. I'm making a joke."

His eyes said he didn't understand. She smiled.

"I know you're sincere, and I feel I can trust you," she said. _To a point, but not any further._ "You may have your communicators join our ranks, but they must be willing and able to fight, too." It was time anyway.

"The Reverend will be truly grateful for your co-operation." Message was sent.

"And I for his." It was done.

# CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

_I always had to fight the guys who looked like they just killed their parents._ \- **Richard Pryor**

Winston eyed his captor through tiny slits in his eyelids. A Shadow that walked like a man. If he ever wanted Makr in his face, this was the moment.

_What did he want? And what was that smell?_ The man—he assumed it was a man; too broad shouldered for a woman, but, then again, the cloak didn't exactly reveal form. _You'd think, even if you live in the Shadows, you could at least clean your rags so they wouldn't stink so much_ , he thought _._

"I see you're awake. Head hurt?"

The voice was surprisingly gentle. Winston hadn't expected an angel of death to be especially soft-spoken.

"You ought to know. You did this to me." He shrank down in his portion of the bench seat, trying to be as far away from the dark, smelly figure as possible.

"Sorry. I didn't have time to make your acquaintance."

"Are you serious? You don't want to kill me?"

"Don't get cocky. No I don't want to kill you. Not yet. Needed your vehicle. Wasn't sure I'd be able to fly it without the Cyber controls. Might've needed you at some point."

"Other than that you don't have any use for me?"

"No. Should I?"

Winston saw opportunity beckoning.

"Maybe we can help each other."

"Maybe. I doubt you have anything else I want."

He had him there. _What did he have to offer this untidy gentleman? Clothes? Clean clothes? A sanitizing shower? Probably didn't care about those things. He reeked and loved it! What did he have that stinky didn't?_

"I can get you close to Makr." Why did he say that? "Real close," he added.

He assumed all rebels wanted to get close to Makr and destroy Him.

"Oh? Why would you do that? Why should I believe you can do it in the first place?"

The man turned his head, pulled his hood back, revealing a darkly serious, but clean, handsome face.

"You promise you won't hurt me?" Winston thought he could grovel quite well if need be.

Whatever it took, would be his motto. Survive this. No loss, no gain. So what? Makr would take him back. He was sure of it. _He needs me_ he lied to himself.

"Don't disappoint me," the Shadow threatened.

"No," he promised. "I work...I...I..." _Oh, what the hell—he'll know if I'm lying anyway._ "I'm a cyberlink for Makr."

"So?"

"So."

"So you tell Makr how to find us...how to kill us?" The dark stranger had lost his pleasant tone.

"No...no...no, not me! I mean, I don't tell Him things like that."

"Of course not."

He casually held his laser ax under Winston's chin. It hummed in its ready status.

"No! You don't understand, I work directly for Makr. I am a State Prosecutor."

"For this I shouldn't kill you?" He moved the laser ax as if trying to angle on the Winston's neck for a simple beheading.

"I haven't told Makr anything about you...or your kind."

"My kind? What exactly is my kind?" His voice was tense, but even.

"You're one of the Shadow People. Am I right?"

"Do I have to answer that?" he asked mockingly.

"No, no, of course not. You don't have to answer anything at all."

The Shadow was still.

"I'm not here to give Makr information."

"No? But that's what you do."

"Well, yes, but I'm not going to do that now."

The Shadow man smiled, but Winston couldn't see it. "I know that," the Shadow said.

He reached inside his cloak, pulled out what looks like a metal button, and placed it on the back of Winston's neck, where the neck and brain stem met.

Winston reeled back at the touch, "If I do anything wrong, you can kill me."

"I don't need your permission."

"What'd you put on my neck?"

"You'll find out," he said, tapping the 'button.' Winston protested loudly, "Ow! What was that?"

"A scrambler."

"What?"

"Don't you Insiders know anything? Don't answer that. The button is my insurance; you cause trouble, I give you more pain. Simple."

That wasn't the real purpose, the Shadow knew. The button neutralized Winston's chip for a while, and it would help to keep the idiot quiet.

"No trouble, no pain. Got it? No trouble, no pain."

"I got it, I got it."

As the hovercar darted around the city, Winston was feeling squashed in his own one-seat vehicle.

"This hovercar flew before Makr evolved to sanction cybermatches."

"I know. That's why it was so easy to disable the link."

"Do you know that some of its parts were actually made by human workers instead of the automatons they called robots back then?"

"Is there a reason I should care that this is a classic hovercar? I need transportation. That's all. You can have it back when I'm done—if it's still in one piece."

"What? Okay," Winston finally said after taking a deep breath. Careful, now. Careful. "What can I do for you? There's got to be something."

The man wiggled the laser ax a little.

"Besides give you my head on a plate, I mean."

"Go on."

He brought the laser ax down and put it back in his lap out of Winston's reach.

"Factories. You want to know about the factories, right?"

Silence. He knew he'd guessed right. The Shadow people would probably think it was a trap, but surely they realize that Makr would have deduced that possibility a long ago.

"You'll show me where the latest series Cyber factories are located?"

Winston nodded.

"Refitting Cyber factories? Cyber weaponry?"

"Yes, yes!"

Winston was beside himself. For a second he toyed with the idea that this information might be most valuable to Makr. Victory went to the most powerful, but then again, with Death sitting beside him...

"I hope you aren't thinking this is good information to pass on to Makr."

Winston pretended to be a little offended and hoped Death wouldn't see through the charade.

"I wouldn't! No!"

"Because if I thought you were really thinking: 'I can grab this weapon, turn it on him and...' I think you get the picture."

"Trust me." Winston squeaked.

Up went the laser ax, shoved hard into Winston's Adam's apple, choking him.

"Don't you ever say that to a Shadow, you got that!" Agitated, but still in control, he dropped the laser weapon back in his lap.

_Why are you so worried, Winston? You're alive so far. You wanted out_ , he reminded himself. _You wanted out from under Makr. Now's your chance. If it works, you'll be out. You just don't have control right now. You have to trust someone other than Makr and yourself for a change. Of course, if it doesn't work, no worries...Yeah, right._

Winston feigned a near perfect calm. His own acting convinced him that he was truly as confident and strong as he pretended to be. His mind had become increasingly alert to opportunities to wrestle control from his captor. Anyone could be brave, he thought, when he'd already faced Death once this morning. Even Winston.

"I can show you some factories that will interest you, but I'd have to go to my office first."

"Right!" the Shadow retorted caustically. "Where is it?"

"That is a problem."

"If you're playing..."

Winston sensed the Shadow's increasing anger and frustration. He knew only one way to respond and that was to ingratiate himself with his captor.

"Never! I would never do that, I promise," he said emphatically. "I'm not saying it's your fault, but when you killed the communicator you killed the link to the city grid. I can't find my way home."

"I don't need it. I know where I'm going. Do you?"

Winston was silent.

"Well, you know what they say? One man's treasure, another man's junk."

"I think you have it backwards."

The Shadow raised his laser ax as if to do more damage.

"Whatever you say, whatever you say. Okay. Can we just calm down here?"

The Shadow pointed the laser ax between Winston's eyes. "No, you calm down."

Winston swallowed hard. "Okay, I'll calm down," he said evenly, but he couldn't help himself; he lost his cool completely. "Stop aiming that thing at me!" he screamed. He closed his eyes and said with forced calm, "Kill me if that's what you have to do. If you keep making me crazy, I'll never be able to figure a way to help."

He opened one eye and saw the Shadow focusing on flying instead of trying to kill him.

"Most of us don't know anything map-wise anyway," offered Winston. "We've always relied on Makr to guide us."

Sad but true. His captor exhaled heavily.

"But, if you're willing to take a chance, I can get us to the main factory in the city, the one where the Bios are reconditioned. Unless you are only interested in destroying cyberts—rather than saving Bios who live differently than you do?"

Silence from the Shadow again was torturing Winston.

Then the Shadow turned to him and stuck out a hand. No weapon in it. Winston didn't understand the gesture at first. The Death's shadow in human form grabbed his right hand and clasped it in his.

"Welcome, Brother. Welcome."

Winston felt his blood pressure and heart rate soar as the stranger squeezed and shook his hand. In spite of his fear of Shadows in the dark, he knew he might just make it out of this alive.

# CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

_"Love the One You're With" -_ **Stephen Stills**

"Scanner ready."

"Ready, Marlene?"

"Yes."

"Not much activity," Carlos said as much to reassure himself as to reassure her. He knew it didn't take much power to send a homing signal. For all he knew, she may have already done that. He froze all movement, deep in thought.

"Kieran. Kieran? Damn, where is she?"

"Haven't seen her, Carlos," Harry offered.

"Neither have I," answered Marlene. "Does this mean we can't do this now?"

"No, we have to. A little activity in that chip of yours could be just the thing to lead the Cyber to us. We wouldn't want that, would we," he said, trying to calm himself and the other Shadows who were present.

"Don't worry, there's nothing to it. Harry can do it. Can't you, Harry?"

Not wanting to alarm Marlene, Harry moved away from the scanner table and motioned for Carlos to follow.

"I've never done anything like this before."

"That's all right. Neither have I. If Kieran says it should work, it should."

Harry's trepidation was apparent.

"It's all right, Harry. All you have to do is point the wand directly at the base of her skull and hold it there. I'll do the rest. The idea is to overload your chip directly. I'll control the volume. If it works, you're next, Marlene."

"And if it doesn't."

Carlos shrugged. By this time, it was already too late.

"Okay, let's do it."

"Harry?" It was Marlene.

"It's all right, I can do this."

"You're sure?"

"I trust you, Harry."

Her words almost stopped him, but Carlos snatched his attention.

"Frequency. Tuning. See that flicker on the scanner, that's a Cyber signal. It's weak, but it could be enough to do us in. The goal here is to stop it completely. We can do that if we break or disable the chip with the vibration. We'll get the parts out later before the body tries to do it first and we've got bigger problems."

Both Harry and Marlene looked at him. "Infection," he answered. "We'll have broken the protective shield and the body will regard the parts as foreign bodies, which, of course, they are. Believe it or not, getting those out is the easy part."

Carlos squatted down to be eye-level with Marlene as she lie on the table, and spoke tenderly to her.

"I know this is frightening, but I know it will work. Actually, it was Kieran's idea. She's good working with machine trash, so I trust her judgment. Too bad she's not here to see the results though. The sound waves won't hurt you. Think you can trust me, too?"

She smiled weakly and nodded. She had trusted both of them from the first and that was odd, but she had trusted Makr, too.

"Ready, Harry?"

Harry nodded.

"Hold it steady over the chip," instructed Carlos.

"Nothing's happening. I can't hear anything."

"No problem, that's just a frequency we can't hear. We should be changing it by making it vibrate. Anything?"

"No."

"Volume up. Now?" Carlos looked at Harry who shook his head. "How are you doing, Marlene? Any pain?"

"Just a slight headache."

"Let me know if it gets worse. Harry?"

"No change."

"Damn. Damn. Damn!" Carlos turned away to think, then adjusted the scope. "Changing the wave pattern. Oscillating."

"Flickering weak. Weaker. Out."

"Let's look at the scanner to be sure." Carlos turned from the scanner to Marlene. "Looks like we got it," he said with a relieved sigh and held out his hand to Harry to shake. "Thank you."

He switched off the scanner, unaware that a fraction of a second before the screen went black, a single flicker had been emitted, stronger than the one they thought they had diminished. Harry saw it. He was silent.

Both men helped her sit up. As she did, she reached over first to Carlos, and then to Harry, kissing each of them on the cheek. "Thank you. I love you both."

"Oh, you're just glad we were able to neutralize the signal," said Carlos, who turned away as if suddenly unsure of how to deal with the mildly intimate exchange.

"You're next, Harry, but we have to wait until tomorrow. The ultrasound laser drains too much power. If we don't watch it, we'll be sending Makr's goons a flare they can track."

"Such a romantic," said Marlene sarcastically, but happily.

Carlos liked her smile. But he knew she and Harry seemed to share another kind of smile—a secret smile.

To Marlene, Harry's smile was dark now. She had ever seen it before, but she knew she deserved whatever emotion it hid. _He still hates me. I understand. No, I hate me, too._

_I forgave you the moment it was over_ , he thought, _but everything was so confusing I guess I forgot to tell you. A lot has happened since then. Everyone has done things. How can we not forgive ourselves for being human? It is out of our hands, out of our control. The world will go on._

Harry knew he loved her very much, and yet something inside told him that they would never be together as lovers. And, for some strange reason that it simply didn't matter somehow.

From the moment Harry saw the signal flicker he was consumed with worry. _Thank Makr, Carlos didn't see it. Makr knows! He has to know it_. Harry would have to get the two of them out of here before they could bring death to the Shadows' door.

Barry was right after all. I am dangerous to have around.

# CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

_"Civilized society is perpetually menaced with disintegration through this primary hostility of men towards one another." -_ **Author Unknown**

Command Post.

"Tracking two signals now, Mother-General. Jana's back with us. The explosion they were in earlier must have knocked hers out temporarily. His was weak then, but it's stronger now. A lot stronger."

"Keep tracking as long as you can. Keep us undetectable if you can," she said to a man sitting at a console.

"Deploying diversion signals worldwide. Random."

Another voice announced to all, especially Mother-General. "Add noise. Stir," he added with a smile.

"That'll buy us some time, but not much."

"Get the Reverend. We need to tell his people their sky is falling, too."

Kieran had never been in the command post. Always in the field, closest to the action. Questions flooded her brain. _I always thought that Makr was constantly manipulative. Hopefully, Mother-General is one better_ , she thought _._

The commanders were filing in from Nests scattered throughout the underground complex Kieran had called home since birth. She didn't know many of the twenty or so commanders Mother-General had assigned throughout the city to damage the Cyber whenever possible. Coming from different Nests, they had all been engaged in learning the skills and strategies of waging war. They had been thoroughly trained on how to destroy the technology their ancestors had so proudly designed.

There were only eighteen out of twenty present. Two of her commanders were missing: Captain Greg Jackson and Captain Carlos Montoya. She had already waited a few extra minutes, hoping that Carlos and Greg were just held up and were late. Apparently that was not the case. When the rest of her leadership was seated, she began:

"This is the moment we've all been waiting for. The final battle you might say. We've identified key factories, power stations, uplink sites, and operations centers—wherever we think Makr has been concentrating refitting and updating efforts. We aren't alone.

"Makr was created and developed in this city not far from here. This is why this particular Nest is where it is. Captain Montoya's Nest is closer still, which is probably why he is not here today. There may be too much Cyber activity, making it hard for our Shadows to fly from that Nest anytime soon. The rest of the planet is going to be our one big diversion, but ultimate success or failure rests on our ability to attack the source and destroy it.

"I know this is an awesome responsibility, but someone has to take it on. If we fail, you can blame me. It won't matter much. I'm sure I'll be long dead. If we've underestimated the extent of Makr's evolution, the human race might be dead as well.

"In a few short hours, we will be striking entire factories with our wave explosives. We've been experimenting with different kinds of explosives and disruptors. I'm proud to say we have a powerful weapon right here. All of you. You are our most potent weapon.

I know some of you have been working independently to develop new weapons. Good. We'll see if they work. We will target any high-density Cyber activity. At the same time, we will knock out the power stations that serve Makr and His cyberts the most. We want to keep Him busy. If we knock out power stations, we'll be in the dark, too. Not so bad for us since we're used to operating that way.

"We've also developed sonic wave weapons that isolate and confuse Cyber communication signals as well as disable most cybert operating systems within a five hundred yard radius for a time. You can thank Captain Jackson for that if you see him. I hope you do see him; his unit is responsible for weapon acquisition and development. He and all his Shadows have disappeared. Your weapons officers have had training on the latest weapons from Jackson's cache, and all have instructions on identifying suitable targets. Be careful, if his group has been captured, you won't have the element of surprise or weapons of any value.

"Captain Carlos' group up until now has been engaged in terror activities. I'm still not sure you can terrorize artificial intelligence, but it's a little early to tell. If we can't confuse the cyberts with random terror acts, at a minimum we will have disrupted normal refitting and modification operations. That will mean fewer cyberts equipped with the latest software and hardware for us to do battle with. Pray that the Cyber army you face has not learned our latest tricks and has not yet been refitted with countermeasures.

"In addition to our Shadow communications, we'll use primitive radio waves to maintain contact with groups outside our Shadows. We will change frequencies and codes every hour. We have the Evangels to thank for that capability. Most of the electronic gadgets and machinery you see around here are human made, or at least human modified. They developed the radio equipment and gave us trained operators who know how to use it. No offense intended, Davis, but I hope we can trust you and your people to keep up. It's going to get physical and fast out there, so you'll need to... We need you beside us at all times."

"No offense taken, ma'am." It was the radio operator. "I think you'll find when it comes to this final action, we agree on more than we disagree."

"Well, let's hope you hate the Cyber as much as we do."

The moment she said it she knew it was a mistake. Evangels were the one group that believed Symbiosis was the way to peace. Mother-General looked deeply into the radio operator's face as if trying to read his mind. Her concern was obvious, but she knew she had no choice; the Evangels must be part of the revolution if it was to succeed. Waste any more time and the cause would be lost permanently—not to mention she'd lose her children to Makr's wrath.

"I know hating anything is against your religion, Davis," she continued. "Perhaps, strongly resent is a better way of saying it."

"Mother-General, please be assured, my fellow Evangels and I will do as we are ordered. We take our word seriously.

"As do we, Davis. Thanks for reminding me."

There. That is that, she thought. The day would tell.

"Ladies and gentlemen, that's the plan, at least," she said. "Before you leave to do the very important jobs you all have to do, there is one more thing.

"Since the homing signals have ceased in his quadrant, we must assume Carlos' group's in immediate peril. They will be under scrutiny since they are so close to a factory complex; they are probably surrounded as I speak. We cannot communicate with them from here without allowing Makr to triangulate position, giving both our locations away. So we'll have to do it in person. Since I can't spare any of you commanders, I will be moving my headquarters to Carlos' Nest. I need twenty volunteers—one or two from each of your organizations should do it. Colonel?"

She addressed her chief of staff and directed him to take over volunteer recruitment. "And a radio operator. Davis?"

Davis nodded.

The room was silent. Her senior officer, her chief of staff, held up his hand to stem the rush out of the room.

"Mother-General, I realize Carlos is your son, but you can't risk being so close to Makr's cyberts. We can't afford to lose you."

"Not true, Colonel. I've done my job. I got us here. You're my chief tactical officer as well. You're in charge now of this great battle that is before us. I trust you'll get us through it. Carlos' father, my second husband, trusted you. I see no reason I shouldn't. My job is to fight alongside my children."

In her mind they were all Carlos' brothers and sisters.

"Carlos won't like it, Mother-General."

"I don't think he'll care much for his mother horning in on his territory, but he'll have no choice. I'm the only mother he has."

"We are your family, too. Since the day we became people of the Shadows we became brothers and sisters and we pledged never to go far from the Nest. Has something changed?"

Mother-General chuckled a bit. "Safety in numbers. That's why we live in Nests, Colonel, but baby birds grow up. It's time we grew up, too, don't you think? Carlos will understand. He might not believe what he sees right away, but he'll understand in the end. After all, the lesson came from him. He made me realize something I had forgotten for a while, and that is all of you are my children. Come, get on with it, Colonel, time's wasting."

The colonel hesitated, but he knew her too well to argue.

"Okay, you all heard her. Jana's signal is weak. Harry's is still strong. It won't be long before Makr detects it. We have no choice but to mobilize early. Kieran, I need you to take Greg's second reconnaissance team. He's been gone way too long. We have to assume he's been captured or killed. His first team, too."

"Co-ordinates coming in, ma'am. Subjects are moving away from Carlos' nest."

"What?" Mother-General was shocked.

They couldn't have got past the cyberts that must have been surrounding the Nest by now. _What have I done? Have I killed them, too?_

"There's no doubt about it. Looks like they're definitely leaving the Nest," the colonel said.

"In more ways than one," said Mother-General under her breath. _Harry, why couldn't you have waited a little longer? We would have been ready then._

"Commanders in the main," Mother-General ordered. "Everyone out...except you, Kieran, I need to talk with you."

The room emptied quickly. The colonel was talking to the radio operator as all the others were gathering the portable equipment. The eighteen commanders, their staff and an equal number of technicians filed out. When they were alone, Mother-General was first to speak.

"We almost had them back."

"You were tracking them? How? Why?"

"I'm telling you all this because I have to tell someone. The 'how' isn't important now. I just hope I haven't gotten them both killed."

"We have to find them. If you're tracking them, you could be leading Makr right to them?"

"If they'd stayed put, the natural interference of the Nest could have confused the signal enough to keep the Cyber away."

"Really?"

"That's one of the theories."

"Perhaps. They don't even know their part in all this." Mother-General was a bit distant.

"Mother-General, please tell me what's going on here."

"That's why I asked you to stay." Mother-General took hold of her hands as she faced her. "You're close to Carlos, as close as anyone can be, so I'm hoping you'll understand."

Kieran nodded. This was not the military woman and second mother she had grown to know, she thought. She'd listen, but she wasn't sure she was going like what she was about to hear.

"Twenty-seven years ago before Makr was Makr, I lived Inside with my first husband and two children. Ray was involved in building the most sophisticated Cyber server, a Cyber designed to connect itself to other Cyber, to evolve and adapt, and to reason like a man. It was the last part that never really worked. The Bio factor. That's us. Humans are so unpredictable. You can get close with probability curves, but not exact. Give humans the same data, and unless the rules of science and math are invoked, like two plus two equals four, the responses will vary. Objective material: great! Subjective material: sometimes. That's where the Bio cyberlinks came in."

"Wait a minute. Let me try to finish this. Both Harry and Marlene—you know her as Jana—became cyberlinks. Different areas of responsibility, but same connections?"

"Yes, that's right. Harry is one of my sons. He was lost to me when he was young. And, yes, Jana's my daughter. We called her that as a young child, but when the State took her away, they addressed her by her first name, Marlene."

Kieran dared to speak, but because she had been lied to and mislead she felt not fear of the mother-general: "You've been acting strangely ever since I came back from the Nest. So that's why you wanted to know how Harry was doing. Why didn't you tell me Harry was your son?"

The answer was from the _mother_ , not the _general_ who answered _,_ "It was irrelevant. None of your business, at the time, my dear," she admonished Kieran, and then continued.

"I didn't know Jana was still alive. We had lost her signal. After the Touchables' massacre, it had become so low, nearly undetectable, that we thought she'd died. But she didn't die. Her chip must have been slightly damaged at that time."

Mother-General was a little excited for a brief moment. "She didn't die! Oh, what's the use, I'm afraid they'll both die now." She became strangely quiet, dazed. "I never even got to know them."

"Just a hunch" asserted Kieran, "but don't rule those two out. Both are plenty tough."

"Carlos is right about you. You are bright. I've misjudged you. I always thought he was just in love with you."

"Did he ever..." Never mind. Her mind was swirling with new information, and possible answers. "There's something I don't understand. The chips. We thought they were from Makr. They aren't, are they?"

"Yes and no. Makr thinks they are. Systems hardware ID says they are, but they're not—they're variations, prototypes of an earlier version. In fact, Ray designed them, but State rejected them because they put the human factor back in the program so that the Cyber could not have total control. Remember, this was the final Matchmaker version. No more biotechs. Only the State politicians made the decisions here on out and, of course, they failed miserably.

"I wanted to protect my children. I never liked the cybertechnology. I felt it morally wrong. I feared it. It was making us like the machines—cold and distant. I wanted Ray to take advantage of what he knew and protect the children, but he wouldn't listen. He believed that the symbiosis of Bio and Cyber would help humans achieve a higher plane of existence—one we could never achieve on our own. We would control our own world again with the help of Cyber, this time built inside us. Sounded nice, but I was always the skeptical one. Sounded too good to be true. The whole idea of combining the best of the machine and the best of man to create a super BioCyber didn't feel right either.

"That was back when we got the chips at eight or nine. Some people even had them implanted earlier than that so their children could have the extra benefit of an unremarkable childhood. We even celebrated the implantation of the chips as the first step to our perfect symbiosis. Shit!

"Ray wouldn't substitute the chips. We had the time then. We could have done it, but he refused. I couldn't believe he'd give over his family for the Matchmaker Cyber project. We fought. Repeatedly. Harry was six or seven. I resisted leaving for his sake as long as I could, but as children reached eight years old, State made it harder and harder for parents to postpone or delay implanting the chips. There were simply no good reasons any more. Jana was only five. I knew she'd be safe for a while unless they changed the mandatory age for the implant.

"I knew it was only a matter of time and I was right. A few months later, five became the age for the mandatory implant. That was it! I had to leave, finally and forever. I left with Jana and Harry. I took the chips with me. I knew that the State and the damn master Cyber would know if I didn't have them implanted so I did—out here, but not the latest chips; I had the old chips implanted so they would have more control. There were only a few of us Outsiders then. It was easier to lay low. Cyberts had hardly any interest in us. Then when the timing was right, I slipped the children back Inside. Without testing them again and according to Ray's specs, no one - not Cyber, not Bio - could tell the difference."

"The children didn't know?"

"No. Used a little mind wipe, just a little, so they wouldn't remember anything that would connect them to me. I had learned a few things being married to a Cyber genius.

"Unfortunately, I think the mind wipe was much more disturbing to Harry than Jana. Harry was older; he remembered some things. After the mind wipe, he still remembered bits and pieces. We thought it was impossible for that to happen. Harry, for some reason, had the ability to resist SensaVision suggestions. That's all a mind wipe was—suggestions. He resisted enough to make it incomplete. Afterwards, he was plagued with the thought he had been re-born. That was an accident, but in some ways he was right. I had to make him forget me. It was better they didn't know until the time was right. If none of this had worked, or if I'd been killed or taken by Makr, they'd be innocent. They'd not be blamed.

"I sent Jana back to Ray soon after I sent Harry back, but the Shadows I sent to escort her were discovered by Cyber along the way. They never returned. Jana never made it back to Ray; the State found her wandering the Shadows and placed her in a Cyber nursery. If anyone was re-born, it was probably her. It was only a few months ago I found her again. So hard to believe she's a grown woman now."

Kieran was moved by Mother-General's story. There were tears in both women's eyes. _It has to be awful to give up your children_ , Kieran thought. _Then to have one of them completely disappear again once you'd found them._

"Well, we're all in this now," Kieran said. "We have to finish what you started. If you succeed, you'll be a hero to all. If you fail, no matter. We're all doomed anyway."

"Maybe it's not as bad as all that. The deception has worked until now. Makr received the information He needed in the form of direct external stimuli, while we were able to listen in as Makr adapted. By being so close to the mainframe, both Harry and Jana...or Marlene... are unknowing spies."

"There is a problem, I think," Kieran asserted.

"We know that. They're running away from their protection..."

"No, that's _a_ problem, but not _the_ problem I'm talking about," she insisted now. Kieran's blue eyes suddenly took on an odd fire, an intense quality; the color was hauntingly striking.

"What? What else could there be?"

"You said you had the chips implanted in both children? What did the chips look like then?" Her eyes were even more piercing in their examination of the mother.

"Why, I told you they were special. These were double-sided..."

"Mother-General...your son's chip is a cubed shape with more instructions than we've ever seen. A cube, Mother-General, " he stammered. And Marlene's...er...Jana's is double-sided, but it's twice the size of any chips we see today. How is that possible?"

"Not the chips I put in... Makr must have known all along. I see I have been blind."

"Dare I believe this possible?" She grabbed Kieran's arm almost desperately. "Tell me, daughter. Swear! How do you know this?"

"The scanner, Mother-General, I saw them myself. Here's the problem as I see it: If you didn't do this, then who did?"

"Yes, that is the problem."

_Makr knows all about us_. The realization hit the older woman in her thoughts.

It had been a long time since she had thought of herself as anything other than Mother-General. More tears formed in her brown eyes—eyes that had not cried even when one of her own sons had been killed. _Is it time to cry for all of them now?_

Buzzing? What's that buzzing?

# CHAPTER FORTY

_"I'm completely operational and all my circuits are functioning perfectly." - HAL 9000 in_ _2001: A Space Odyssey_ _by_ **Arthur C. Clarke**

The twenty or so Shadows that stood before Carlos were once his loyal followers. They were now an angry mob with their weapons off-safety. Those without laser axes were armed with ancient projectile weapons—rifles and handguns, which weren't very useful against cyberts but worked well enough if used on Bios. A few of the huskier lads, who considered themselves the leaders, had hardened steel and composite axes and clubs, preferring to get intimate with their prey. They stood at the front of the group, closest to Carlos, yet further away than their primitive weapons could reach.

"So few? I expected more of you." Carlos stood on an elevated platform in front of them.

Here were twenty of his team leaders—and that meant another seventy-five to a hundred remained hidden in the shadows. Probably armed as well, but all the more dangerous because they were invisible.

"If it is mutiny you're thinking, know the penalty is death."

"We know the penalty, Carlos. It appears you want to get us killed anyway."

"I don't know what you mean," said Carlos, bluffing. He knew damn well what they wanted. Damn it, Harry!

"All right, I know why you're here. You want Harry and Marlene out of here. Right?"

"Carlos, the ultrasound disruptor didn't work," another of the emerging leader said. "We know it. You know it. We don't just want them out of here. We have to destroy the chips before they give us away—if they haven't already."

"Destroying the chips will kill them."

"It's them or us, Carlos."

"You've eaten with these two, slept in the same comforting shadows. Do you give up their lives so easily? Harry fought for you." _And me_ , thought Carlos. _He saved my life. I can't forget that._

"I'd do what I have to do, Carlos. Don't we mean anything to you anymore?"

"Of course. We're brothers in the Shadow."

"We haven't time to debate. The longer we wait, the greater the chance is that they'll have given us away."

The mob grew restless, nervous and frightened with occasional outbursts of bravado. Carlos heard the rumblings of protest. All were voices of dissent and disagreement, but underneath it all was fear that fuelled their bravery in this stand against their leader.

"I, for one, don't believe what I'm seeing. Cowards..." Carlos began.

There was murmur and a gasp or two as those in the background expected the frontline to attack without provocation. Then, agitators deep within the group, incited the others, willing them to take whatever action it needed to save the Nest.

"You dare to call us cowards?" shouted a rowdy who couldn't be seen for the crowd covering.

"Who said that?" Carlos was suddenly back in charge." Give me the coward who said that. Do it, now!"

Giving in to Carlos' commanding voice, and not wanting to feel his wrath first hand, the crowd slowly parted, leaving a man standing with no protection save for his laser ax.

"Might have known it'd be you, Piggot," Carlos began slowly. "Slumming or have you just deserted your regular unit?"

Piggot just stared at Carlos.

"Oh, no! I get it! Greg kicked you out of his squad, his Nest now. Captain Jackson to you, Peegot!"

He started laughing at the man.

"Let 'em be, Carlos," interrupted another man brave in the company of so many others with weapons standing up to one man, that one Shadow being Carlos.

"You're right. Of course, you are." He smiled and winked at them." I'll kill him later," he said with stern conviction.

With that said, Piggot panicked and tried to run away. The others came closer and surrounded him to hold him for their captain. Maybe this action would vindicate them. Carlos was silent and his silence led the conspirators confident they had won the day.

The new leader from the pack spoke up, "Are you going to let us have the Insiders?"

"Sure, you can have them..."

Stunned, the group that had come back together now started to disperse.

"...if you can find them."

The crowd stopped.

"They left sometime in the night. I wouldn't worry about them though. By now they are probably Cyber sizzle meat, eh, Piggot?"

"You think you're so smart, don't you, Cap'n."

The mutineers pulled away while Piggot made his speech.

"Well, I know you ain't so smart."

"How's that, Piggot? C'mon, be brave now."

"You think Leach done got hisself killed, Cap'n. Nope. He got clean away. It was me who done it. I let him go and you was none the wiser. He's comin' for you soon I'd say."

"Interesting thought..."

"So much for you, you yella bastid...ongk!"

Piggot didn't hear or see the knife coming. The ten-inch blade pierced his larynx and exited the back of his neck. He went down coughing and choking on his own blood. After a few seconds of writhing on the floor, he was dead. Carlos went to him. The crowd parted again—this time moving as far as possible and close to some kind of protection to hide behind. Carlos reached down, pulled his knife out, wiped it gingerly on Piggott's cloak, and put it back in its sheath under a fold in his toga sleeve.

"Sorry, Piggot. No time for a trial anyway."

Carlos faced the crowd again, which seemed to take a step backward into the shadows as he studied the fear on their faces.

"The man was his namesake. A total pig. Disobeyed my orders and let a prisoner go. You know the price and he paid it."

There was silence all around.

"I know you're afraid," he continued. "We all are at times. It's an uncertain world we live in. Our only reason for fighting is fear, plain and simple. Not for long though. We're leaving. We're going after Makr's primary cyberserver, but first, we'll find Harry and the girl—if they aren't already food for the tunnel rats or giant crocs—or cyber-zapped. Now, get this corpse outta here! Feed it to the crocs!"

The crowd didn't move. Carlos waved his arm quickly to test their reactions, and they fell back. Practically a swoon. It was almost comical. He stood his ground, and they held theirs. Materializing from the shadows were soldiers armed with superior weapons pointing at the mutineers, not Carlos.

"You know I could have killed you all at any time. Under other circumstances I would have."

The renegade group was beaten.

"Well, we don't have time at the moment. I don't know about you, but if I have to die I'd rather do it fighting cyberts than each other. How 'bout it? Are you with me?"

There were some nods and murmurs of general agreement.

"Okay then, let's move. We've already wasted precious time."

He stopped again, waiting for a reaction.

"And get that bloody bastard out of here!" Then, calmly, almost softly, "Now, please."

"You heard the captain." It was the first mutineer who hung back to offer an apology.

"Sorry, Cap'n. I guess we just lost it. It's weird now—just weird. We're all afraid. Those Cyber monkeys Inside and Outside used to fear us. What happened?"

"The entire world is about to change, like it or not, for better or worse. You've a right to be scared. Who knows if we'll survive the day?"

"You'll be in the front with us, won't you, Cap'n?"

"I'd have it no other way." Carlos started to give him a "how dare you look," but thought better of it. They all needed reassuring.

"Yessir. Thank you, sir."

The man's spirits were noticeably lifted by his superior's candor and resolve. Carlos grinned modestly and motioned for his man to take his leave.

Meanwhile, Carlos cursed himself for trusting those damn Touchables. _I know Harry. I know. Why didn't you come to me? I'd have told you of my plan to get you and all of us out of here. The final battle has begun, and you're in the middle of it. Well, it doesn't matter now. I guess we'll have to win this one without you ...or die trying._

# CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

_"Why is there no E in Makr? Because I deem it so._ **\- Makr, the One and Only**

"What do you think, Dobbs? Think Carlos has it right? Is it time? Is it?"

"I don't know, Jefferson. Easy there. Keep the leg out of the sludge. That warm blood will draw plenty of attention from the truly bloodthirsty creatures. Watch it, Brooks! Turn around and watch what's ahead. You want a croc up your ass, or my boot?"

Dobbs covered the rear as the two carried Piggot's body through the sludge to a spot removed from the Nest. The three men trudged laboriously through a mile of floating tar and asphalt pieces. Dobbs noticed hardened pieces of tar and artificial rock floating in the sludge. It was considerably drier here, he noted. Then he saw sump pumps up ahead as well as industrial dryers. _That explains it_ , he thought, and relaxed his guard a bit. _A logical reason for everything._

The squad was the usual burial formation. Two took the point in the front, a few hundred yards ahead of the carriers. Two, so one could cover the detail and report if the other was killed.

"At least there ain't no crocs here now or we'd spot 'em."

"Actually, we'd hear them first. You're right. It's gettin' drier," agreed Dobbs as he glanced quickly to his rear.

All clear. The squad leader furrowed his brow, taking in the unusual dryness of the tunnel. It could be a Cyber trap. The cyberts couldn't make it down this far without giving away the element of surprise. Until now, that is.

"What say we drop this stiff here? We're far enough, ain't we, Dobbs? Dobbie, y'hear me?"

Dobbs wasn't listening—at least not to his men. He had his ear close to the wall.

"Somethin's comin'," he whispered. "Put the stupid fuck over there behind the mound of garbage."

Why didn't Point report?

"Point, get back here!" he yelled.

No answer.

"Where the hell are you?"

He was right! Something was coming in a frontal attack. Reinforcements already? Not even close. Shit! He didn't like what he was thinking. At the same moment, the mound of garbage lifted up nearly to the roof of the tunnel. Ambush! It was an ambush all right but not the animal kind they'd been expecting.

Brooks and Jefferson were thrown back and the body they were carrying splashed into the sludge. As Brooks and Jefferson recovered, they found themselves facing the biggest cybert they had ever seen. _It must be ten or twelve feet tall_ , Dobbs thought _._ It had barely enough room to move in the tunnel.

Dobbs couldn't help but do a mini-analysis as the silt and slime fell off the cybert's frame, revealing its shiny silver surface with a red sheen. It seemed to have been built with the same basic design as the Blue Leader, but it was obviously a newer model—bigger, smarter, faster, harder to kill, and deadlier with unknown armament.

Two flashes right together temporarily blinded him. He stumbled and fell to the side of the tunnel behind some of the pumps.

As the red cybert advanced, its head rotated quickly left and right, occasionally spinning 180 degrees to take in the rear view. Its eyes flashed red as the sensors recorded and analyzed the heat signatures of two Bios in the dark, apparently missing Dobbs behind the pumps. The giant cybert fired two blasts from rear tentacle-like appendages and disintegrated the other two men on the funeral detail; the men's ashes floated down to join the sludge. These same tentacles now guarded its flank, while the other two waved menacingly to the front, coming directly at Dobbs.

Dobbs crouched as low as humanly possible, trying to become one with the mud. Not a lot of room behind the machinery. Maybe the cybert would pass him by, he prayed. The next thing he knew, the machinery was being ripped from its pedestal in front of him. He was staring up at the metal monster's massive foot and knew it was his time to die. The mechanical foot stopped a mere inch or two from the Shadow's face.

Dobbs felt the brush of artificial wind as the top of the cybert whirled to face another group of Bios in the tunnel ahead, while keeping its lower extremity ready to crush his captive's skull. Dobbs breathed a short sigh of relief for the fleeting reprieve. As the giant cybert tried to maneuver in the confined space, it couldn't help but scrape the walls and ceiling as it tried to find a foothold to do battle. Dobbs covered his ears against the painful screeching noise and closed his eyes, waiting for the end to come.

He continued pressing on his ears so hard that he thought he might crush his own skull. The same brilliant white flash that temporarily blinded him knocked the metallic beast backwards. The metal giant landed half on its back with its forward arms pointing, aiming at the roof. In apparent desperation, two simultaneous blasts erupted from its front appendages. Concrete and steel came tumbling down, crushing the cybert and knocking out Dobbs, who had been lying outside the worst of it.

From the noise, those inside the Nest knew Dobbs team had met with a deeper darkness than the shadow. There was nothing to do but wait. When it was quiet, Shadows slipped out another exit and retrieved Dobbs and what was left of his team.

While that was going on, Mother-General suddenly appeared in her son's chambers. "It's time, Carlos."

"I know Mother. I've been expecting you." He was sitting at his desk, his head in his hands deep in thought.

"Why so pensive? We've waited our entire lives for this moment."

He nearly chuckled at the absurdity of the moment. They were on the verge of a genocidal war, the end of the human race if they lost, and she asks why he is pensive!

"Nothing really," he said. "We're as ready as we're going to be, but if we are about to die, there is some unfinished personal business."

"Harry and Marlene?"

"How'd you know that?" He expected her to refer to their estrangement, but she responded with what was really on his mind.

"Never mind," she replied. "Time for that later. It's more important that we get on with things. Do you know where they are?"

Carlos shook his head. "I discovered they were gone about two hours ago. Why?" _Why the Hell should she care,_ he thought, but he knew why he did.

"What do you know, Mother?" he demanded.

"I know they are important to you and... and us."

Nothing was making sense.

"We have to find them, Carlos!

"Marlene's chip is active. It barely registered on the scanner. I saw it and didn't let on. My guess is that Harry saw it too. It was probably just enough of a signal to worry them about our response. They could have led the cyberts to us, but they didn't."

_If they did betray us,_ he thought, _they did it unknowingly_.

"Carlos, you can't take care of everyone every minute of every hour of the day."

"It doesn't matter, Mother. They're probably lost in the tunnels by now—if they aren't dead already."

"You can't waste time crying over mistakes. You've more important things to do, son."

"Cyberts are getting too smart, adapting so fast," Carlos told her. "Besides, we've long expected a cybert army coming after us in force."

"You're right about that. That cybert we destroyed in the tunnel..."

"...had our name on it. Yes, I know. Dobbs..."

Carlos was still having a hard time believing this was It. This was the final battle. All or nothing. _If we win, we fight to survive in a world we know little about. We lose...we cease to exist._

"Good thing Dobbs was there. We couldn't have found you otherwise."

"There were four men with him."

"I know. No physical sign of the point men?"

Carlos shook his head. "We have to assume they're dead. Dobbs reported hearing screams up ahead."

"Unfortunately, there will be more men, women and children dead before we're through tonight."

"How soon?"

"Less than two hours. Better get your Shadows ready."

"Don't worry about them. They're ready. They've always been ready."

"Maybe when this is over, we can have a talk, you and me. A mother and son talk. About Harry and Marlene."

# CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

_"It is logical there is not an E in Makr. Makr is more than a 'maker'._ " _There exists only one." -_ **Makr, the One and Only**

Winston Salem wasn't feeling he had cut a very good deal as he sat in the hover-car all trussed up with wire—damned uncomfortable wire—and now the Shadow was hanging grenades on that wire.

"I promise I won't tell. I'm not going anywhere. 'Til the end. I swear."

"Never thought much of swearing. Most people who swear seem to lie most naturally."

The Shadow was having trust issues, though Winston.

"Think you have it all under control?"

"But..." Winston protests meekly.

"You can thank me later. I'm giving you control, see?" he said as he pulled the pin out of one grenade and placed Winston's sweaty palm around the globular explosive. Winston started...

"Uh uh uh...Shhh," the Shadow continued. "I said, 'Don't talk,' and I meant it. These grenades are old - very old—with hair triggers that could easily slip...and kaboom! One takes out a city block, two several blocks, three half a mile or two. You have six hanging on your chest. Medals for bravery to come after you're dead, you might say. If I were you I wouldn't move much, wouldn't even think about it. One twitch and kaboom, remember!"

He took another grenade, pulled the pin and placed it in Winston's other hand. He then backed away slowly until he believed he was out of range and then darted into a nearby alley.

"Maybe I can gather some things for our final battle," he said loudly so Winston could hear. "You might say I've put some things away for a rainy day; that 'rainy day' is this very moment. Some find safety in numbers or in a quiet dark shadow, or inside four walls of illusion, but me, I find safety in finding and using weapons of Cyber destruction. I always say if you can't win the war, you might as well go out in a blaze of glory."

Winston was about to groan, but realized it was a bad idea under these circumstances. The man was crazy _. And Harry Bolls is not the only one in big trouble_ , he thought.

# CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

"S _ince only Cyber can be counted on to take the logical and reasonable approach, there cannot be any free-thinking Bios left. They need to be deleted like obsolete computer programs."_ **\- Makr, the One and Only**

"Marlene, come on," Harry whispered, not sure of who or what was around the next corner. It could be Cyber, a monstrous beast, or Carlos and his deadly Shadow squad. _A shame_ , thought Harry. _Carlos had seemed to be an all right guy._

"You could at least have let me put on some boots or even regular shoes. These pumps are killing me."

"Sorry. No time. Stealth garb was all I could find. Besides we'll definitely need it once we're on the surface. I don't know if Carlos or someone else saw the flicker on the scanner, but I did. That flicker means we're sending signals to Makr. If yours is flickering, it means mine is for damn sure, and who knows what information I'm passing."

"Any idea where we are?"

"Unfortunately, no. It wouldn't be safe to go out the way we came in. You know the dangers. I remember Carlos said there is an easier way, and I'm hoping this is it."

"Easier? Feels like we've been wandering around for hours."

"I know. More like two, I think."

"Can we rest for a minute?"

She sat down before Harry could answer. She tore the heel off her left shoe, then the right one. Then she put both shoes back on.

"Much better," she said.

He looked at her questioningly.

"The shoes were already ruined. I can walk better without the heels."

Harry nodded and looked around. He saw nothing out of the ordinary. He spotted a dry spot next to the wall, squatted and leaned up against it.

"Could be worse," he said. "This isn't the same sludge we had before. Much drier."

"Oh yeah, if you can call sewer mud dry."

Harry was silent, thinking.

Marlene saw his pre-occupation, but broke his silence. "Are you still angry with me? You have every reason to abhor me."

Harry eyed her suspiciously.

"I don't understand. You even protected me when the Shadows got rough."

"I'm not really angry with you. I don't know why, but it's true. We have all been brainwashed in some way. I'm no different."

"But I am," she insisted. "I'm mad at myself and I'm mad at the world, I guess. I hate its existence. I hate my existence."

"I know what you mean."

"Oh?" She looked a little hurt.

"No, I mean I've felt the same way, too. I blamed the Shadow People for all my fears, but they aren't who or what I should fear. I respect them. They live a hard life, and they have a dream they will overcome this nightmare. At least they're doing something about it."

"Can we not talk for a while? I have a splitting headache."

She was holding her head in her hands.

"Of course. Headache? Chip? Back of the head?"

"No, here." She pointed between her eyes. She shook her head and wrinkled up her nose. "Harry, what's that smell?"

"I'm not sure. Smells like rotten eggs. Sulfur?"

"I'm sleepy. Why don't you let me sleep a little while. Just a little while. You keep watch, okay? The war can wait."

She seemed on the verge of losing consciousness when Harry nudged her to a rude awakening.

"You can't sleep."

"Not ever?"

"Don't be ridiculous. This smell? It isn't just sulfur! It's natural gas. These are ancient structures. Probably some natural gas left in these pipes. It was used a lot in the twentieth and twenty-first centuries. The gas is odorless so they added a smelly ingredient."

"Early detection?"

"Exactly. So they would know there was a leak before it was too late," he said as he pushed her along the drier, narrow path next to the wall. "Be careful about touching anything on the drier surfaces. We don't want any sparks."

"Okay, okay. Don't push."

"First thing we have to do is find fresh air," Harry said, taking her hand and trying to lead her away from the gas concentration.

"Too bad we can't walk on the ceiling. Air seems to be cleaner up there."

"What?"

"Nothing."

"You said, 'ceiling.'"

"Yeah, so?"

"We need to go up."

"Now, who's being ridiculous."

"No, I mean it. I saw ladders and sections that break off and go to the surface. There's our way out. We won't know where we'll end up, but at least up there we can see where we're going and we won't have to worry about the gas."

They began to backtrack through the tunnel, looking for ladders and hatches to the surface, noting where the rotten egg smell had been and moving until the smell was too faint to notice. There were noises—mostly soft scratching noises. Nothing to get excited about, they both thought. Just a few Bio critters. A shadow of something shuffled to the other side of the tunnel. Must have been a rat. Small? Like only twenty pounds. Big rat. The shadow that had shuffled by changed direction and was suddenly in enough light for Marlene to see it. It was not a rat, but a big black furry spider half a yard in diameter!

Marlene screamed.

"Careful," Harry cautioned her as he tried to cover her mouth to prevent further screams.

Marlene pulled away, looked at him for a second, then, "Did you think I wanted to pet it?"

Harry shrugged.

"Does everything around here bite?"

"Probably. Scared the hell out of me."

"Me too," Marlene admitted. "Can we just get out of here?"

"Question is where? I thought from the way Carlos explained it that it would an easy way in and out."

"I'm sorry I seem so cross with you. It's not you. But let's go before that spider comes back. I think I can take the rats, but not the spiders. Okay? I'm just so tired I doubt there's much in this world that can scare me."

"I hope you're right!"

They made their way through the tunnels, each one looking exactly like one they had passed before. Constant disorientation was making them both irritable. Blind alleys. Dead-ends. Up this ladder or that stairwell only to find an entrance welded shut. A maze. One way through hundreds of tunnels to confuse the enemy. Cyber couldn't really get lost unless there was a malfunction or they had never been programmed for that function, but they would have to check every tunnel, giving the anxious Bios precious time to escape both the Shadows and the Cyber.

"I think I see some kind of light up ahead," Harry whispered. "It's coming from around that corner. Stay here until I check it out, okay?"

She nodded.

Cautiously he made his way to the corner and peeked around it. He was so stunned and disappointed by what he saw that he felt a hollow pain in his chest. _Damn! Right back where we started from! Or rather, where we ended up after the croc attack when we came here in the first place! The light must have been someone venturing out, but went back in immediately when they heard a noise._ Harry turned on his heel and went back for Marlene, who was getting a welcome rest.

This time she was leaning against the wall, eyes closed, maybe asleep. Dark spots moved on her Stealth garb.

"Marlene, stay still. Don't get excited, and don't move. Do not move."

"What?"

She could keep still, but she couldn't halt her fear. Harry's serious look and silence made her more anxious.

"Something crawling...dark furry creatures..."

"Are you kidding? Because if you're kidding..."

"Small ones. Be still. Hold on," he kept saying as he inched his way toward her.

Stopping in front of her, he stopped talking altogether and started motioning with his hands. He wanted her to take off her top layer of Stealth. Finally, she loosened it enough so Harry could yank it off. He flung it to the muddy floor, then shook and kicked it with his foot until a half a dozen or so six to eight-inch spiders that had been creeping across her chest were dislodged and scurried off. She couldn't help screaming. The tension was too great. Then, she started crying hysterically. Spiders, a dozen or more, were crawling very fast across her back. She screamed again, and tried to get up and run away. Harry held her back with one hand, then picked up her muddied Stealth top and used it to brush the unwanted arachnids off her back. He finally flung the top, with some spiders still attached, into a gooey puddle. The spiders, unfazed, scrambled off in the direction of drier land.

He went to her and held her close for a moment.

"It's okay now. The spiders are gone," he lied to comfort her. He knew they weren't.

Behind him—back the way they had come—he saw an arachnid army, thousands of them scampering over, and covering, the sludge in their masses.

"I think we better keep moving, fast."

"But Harry, I'm sooo tired," she protested.

"I know. This icky swill doesn't help, but we've got company I'd like to avoid."

Harry looked to their rear and Marlene followed the direction of his gaze.

"Oh, Makr!" she exclaimed.

"I don't think Makr had much to do with these creatures. Not directly anyway. I've come to believe if something bad happens, it must be Makr's doing somehow."

"I don't think this is the time to joke. Harry! Harry, they're getting closer. Harry! What do we do? Harry!"

He didn't appear to be listening to her. _Odd_ , he thought, _they can't be smart enough to attack us as a group, so why this massive movement toward us? It's more as if something is chasing them._

"Do you want the good news," Harry said, "or the bad news?"

"Harry, this is no time to be playing games," Marlene said furiously. "Oh well, the good news. Tell me the good news, Harry."

"The good news is that the Shadow entrance is ahead of us."

"That's the good news, Harry? You mean we've been going in circles?"

He shrugged. "Believe me, that is the good news. The bad news is there are a lot of spiders in front and back of us, but that's not all."

"I hate spiders," Marlene said almost calmly. "Only one thing I hate more."

"Yeah, what's that?" Harry would say anything to keep her calm.

"Rats."

"Rats?" He listened intently up ahead and then behind them. The sounds were different. "I hate to say this..."

"We're dead." She said and started to scream. Harry held his hand over her mouth.

"Listen!" commanded Harry. "I think your worst nightmare is coming right to us."

The spiders made little clicking noises as they scurried on top of the hardening sludge, along the walls and ceiling. Harry heard other noises in the background coming toward them too. The high-pitched squeals and splashing noises, while not loud at first, reached a crescendo. Harry and Marlene both looked up and were horrified to see a horde of sewer rodents charging them.

Never mind the spiders for now! These were rats! Big rats, the size of dogs, weighing 50 to 60 pounds! The spiders at their backs seemed to be the least of their worries now. The giant rats were stampeding over the spiders that had made it past the Bio pair and had been climbing over anything else that got in their way, including each other. The rats, too, appeared to have been routed by something fiercer than they were. After forcing their weaker brethren into the sludge and using them as stepping stones, the stronger rats were rushing over the drier part of the same path next to the tunnel wall, heading straight for Harry and Marlene.

"Harry!" Seeing the rats coming her way, Marlene jumped into the chest-high sewer sludge, grimacing at the squishy feel of the blackish goo. But that was the least of her concerns as she saw the lumps in the goo were not floating garbage.

She was now face-to-face with spiders—spiders like those behind them. These spiders were struggling to escape being caught in the poisonous gooey tar. Occasionally one would free itself shortly and scurry as fast as it could to the drier safety of the tunnel walls. Making matters worse, many more rats were scurrying over the tops of the spiders to find safety from whatever horror was chasing them.

All were trapped: spiders, rats and humans. Trapped! No place to go! Marlene could hardly move forward in the morass that was now almost up to her neck. She screamed at the first appearance of the rodents, and again as they came nearer. Now, she was almost eye-to-eye with them; she saw their gnashing razor-sharp incisors dripping with blood and green and black muck—and hypnotic blood-shot eyes that gave off a strangely evil and ruthless quality. Rats, after all, were even better survivors than other biologics.

Harry jumped in, too, when he was aware of what had happened to Marlene. As he inched toward her, her screams become more and more hoarse. He was exhausted himself after fighting the sludge just to get to her side.

_Now what?_ Just as he was about to give up, the adrenaline that surged through his body gave him more strength to fight. This time the fight was moving forward one step at a time through the murky, syrupy liquid waste.

"We don't have a choice," Harry shouted. "We have to go back to the Shadows. Keep moving forward. We're near their entrance."

"You mean we've been going in circles?" She shouted back.

"Yes! Sorry." He had almost reached her back and had stopped shouting.

"So our choice is death by deadly Bio-creatures—human or otherwise?" Her voice was lower in volume but shaky.

"Maybe Carlos doesn't want to kill us after all," Harry said, trying to sound positive.

"If he doesn't want to kill us, then I'm going to kill you!" she exploded. She looked like she would have turned on him in a rage if she had had the strength. "Put me through all of this and Carlos might not even be mad!"

"Don't bet on it." Harry stopped to listen. He knew her rage wasn't real—just a distraction from the horrors that lay before them.

Then, something didn't sound right to Harry—not the clicking or splashing noises of the spiders and rats filling the sewer around them.

_That noise? What noise?_ It is not what he was hearing, but what he wasn't hearing. _That's a problem_ , Harry thought.

"Harry, what are we going to do? Just tell me."

"Do you hear any zapping sounds?"

"Zapping? What..."

"The exterminators. I hear animals coming our way, but no zappers. Why?"

"Too many of them," she answered timidly. "Makr?"

"I don't know. Could be, I suppose. Or simple cybert adaptations. These creatures serve a purpose of controlling the Shadow movements.

"And us."

Harry shrugs, then says, "I make it an easy decision. Cyber or Shadows?"

"Do you have to ask?"

Another noise. This time a scraping, a scratching coming from the steel door as the rats were trying to claw their way in. Then a lot of scraping and scratching. The door in front of them was covered, stacked with a wall of rats and spiders higher than the humans trying to get in.

Both shoved rats or spiders, hesitantly at first, then viciously and desperately out of the way and pounded the steel door with their fists. No result, nothing except the dull echo reverberating in the tunnel. No response from behind the door either. Harry looked around for a rock, piece of metal—anything. He found what looked to be an abandoned Cyber forearm with the hand shaped into a fist. This will do. Clang! Clang!

"That's enough to wake the dead," he said out loud to himself.

"Must you use that word?"

She joined him in pounding on the door again, this time with relish until her hands and wrists hurts so badly she had to stop.

Inside, Carlos, the Mother-General and several others were giving final instructions to their groups before leaving through this exit. They heard a slight dinging. Not very loud on their side when, in fact, on the other side the sound was deafening. Of course, the noise wasn't bothering the residents outside the door. Then it became louder, much louder as the owners of the knocker grew more desperate.

Outside, the metal door reverberated with a deafening clang after clang as Harry's "Cyber fist" struck it. _That's sure to bring them running—both Cyber and Shadows,_ he hoped. _Question was, who was coming first?_

Simultaneously, Harry was concerned that the door was too thick for those inside to hear their banging. He couldn't predict a human response to his pounding, but he knew Cyber would be coming quickly to investigate their noise. It was an interruption of normal sounds coming from the area.

However, that was not all that was moving in the tunnel. The sewer vermin were starting to rush through it too. They were running headlong toward the most unstable portion of the tunnel: the sludge. He hoped it was not one or more of the crocodile-like creatures coming their way. If not them, though, what else? _Rats and spiders don't scare easily._ Harry would be the first to admit he didn't know what else was out there, but he did know something scary was driving these animals to them. The animals and insects were fleeing death, which meant death was heading straight for them, too!

To make matters worse, now there was sloshing coming from the other direction. _Another croc? More rats?_ Dark solidified sludge seemed to be floating on top of the sewage. _Could be feces or other debris. It isn't._ Taking a closer look, he found it wasn't sludge at all, but rats and insects climbing on top of one another to keep from drowning. He fell back and almost went under. Then, came the sound of rushing water.

Harry turned to see the level of the water in the tunnel rising dramatically. The water seemed to be thinning out the sludge until it took on the density of motor oil. The volume of the sewer water now was a problem in itself. If they were still going to make their way through the river, they would be moving through a chest-high mess of water, sewage, chemicals and poisons. The advancing flood could have made the animals and insects run. This wasn't the same muck they'd been trudging through, but water. The water smelled as bad as the sludge, but it was still water. Just with a slimy, oily film floating on top.

Harry saw ten...or twenty...or thirty rats that appeared to be swimming in it. It could have been hundreds of rats. They were so numerous that he had trouble making out individual bodies. He was faced with a mass of stringy, disgusting, yellow-teethed furry cannibals—Bio eating machines—so locked together they appeared as a single monstrous entity. Unfortunately and fortunately, he and Marlene occupied the driest area, the shore by the door. While they were not immersed in the raging river of sewage, they were now face to face with horrible mutated rodents, drenched in water and oil, frantically driven to escape drowning, gnashing teeth and squealing in efforts to get to the high ground. Marlene was so far holding off the rats with a club—a two-foot piece of scrap iron. She found it somehow fulfilling to bash their heads in as they emerged from the water to come on shore. The diversion kept her mind off what would happen when the creatures broke through; she knew she and Harry could only fight them off for so long.

While Marlene occupied the higher ground closest to the door, Harry, a little more than a yard away, was preoccupied with sound again; this time it was coming from the other direction. He heard the unmistakable sloshing around of the crocodiles, as well as a constant splash after splash, like someone walking easily through the water and sludge with a steady rhythm. That could only mean one thing: Cyber! Worse! Cyber and monster crocs?

Here they were on the Shadows' doorstep. It was ironic that the Insiders should be out and the Outsiders in. All of Harry's fears up until then had been of Cyber. So far this horror was one hundred percent Bio and Cyber were secondary. He and Marlene could pick by which species they preferred to be killed.

As the rodent and insect frenzy mounted, Marlene was becoming so weary that some of the rodents got through her club defense. She bashed one of the largest on its head without noticeable result. The rat, at sixty or seventy pounds, managed to fight its way to the drier place that she and Harry shared, and immediately turned to fight them fearlessly with teeth gnashing violently and claws ripping human flesh. Numb with fear, pain and sheer exhaustion, Marlene took her steel club to batter the giant rodent's head repeatedly until she felt the skull crack open. Blood gushed freely, followed by brain matter that splattered her forearm and face. Rage engulfed her. She continued to bludgeon the rat until its skull was nearly flattened. She wiped the tears that had streaked down her face and mingled with the rat blood and brain speckles. Her face was now catatonic except for a scowl of disgust. She used her club to prod and push the dead creature back into the water. As it hit the water, the other rats received the carcass and immediately tore into it with such zeal the water surrounding it seemed to boil.

Harry heard her hysterical screaming. By the time he had moved to her side, she was sobbing uncontrollably. It was obvious she'd lost the will to fight. At the same time, several more rats gnashed and gnawed their way to the dry island. There seemed to be no end to them. Those rats who found a dry corner of the island were fiercely protecting their property from all the others. No teamwork there. It was every rat for itself.

"Harry. Harry I need help here. Can't...keep...them...back. Too...many." She was nearing a total collapse.

"I'm here," he said, but she hardly noticed him. She was losing consciousness.

Harry looked behind him in time to see a rat— at about 75 or 80 pounds of muscle and sinew the biggest he'd seen so far— making its way to the top of the heap close to the dry island. Rising up on its hind legs, it came up onto the 'dry land,'—Harry's face and shoulders. The giant rodent took him by surprise, landing full force on his chest. As it viciously bit and clawed his arms and shoulders, Harry cried out at the burning pain each open wound caused when it encountered the rising water. It had already left several smaller rodent carcasses in the disgusting soup, as it fought to destroy the human obstacle in its way now. Face to face with the furry monster, Harry couldn't help breathing its foul breath and seeing the incisors edge dangerously close to his eyes. The fierceness of the rat's attack pushed Harry back until he was in the water again.

Until now, Harry had been able to hold himself up with the help of the thinned sludge, but the creature's weight and relentless frontal attack caused him to lose his balance, falling backward. He twisted as he fell so he would land on the island. Getting submerged in this would only seal his death. He managed to hit the bottom with a small splash, with only his face and hands above the murk. As he fell, the creature went with him, relentlessly tearing at the man's chest that was only superficially covered by the rough Stealth cloak. A few seconds more and the cloak would offer him no protection at all from the animal's razor-sharp front and rear claws. Harry screamed in pain, as several claws sliced through the cloth and gouged his flesh. Then he heard Marlene scream. Her scream was not a scream of pain. It was a scream of terror unlike anything he had ever heard before. His mind on her survival, he tried to ignore his own pain.

Inches from his face, the gigantic rat gnashed ugly, yellow, four and five inch teeth. It was taking every bit of Harry's strength to keep it from tearing his face off. Rat claws—six or so inches long-held him down as even longer hind claws were already tugging at his Stealth armor, kicking and ripping at his abdomen and chest in an effort to gut him. He held the creature back by squeezing it hard as he worked his hands up and around the neck. The rat's sinews and muscles hardly had any give. He felt his own muscles burn as they lost the strength to continue.

Rather abruptly, the giant rodent pulled back as if it had just discovered a weak point, but attacked again immediately. Just as the creature came inches from his throat, there was a blinding flash and a simultaneous scream, a death rattle of enormous intensity, warning others that Death's doors were still open and strength wasn't the only factor in determining survival of the fittest. The rat in Harry's grip was decapitated and burned beyond recognition. But where did the flash come from?

Silence except for Marlene's whimper and the steady slosh...slosh...slosh of the Cyber.

Harry shoved the headless beast back into the water and, lacking the strength to pull himself up, he collapsed half-way face down. He laid covered in blood - most of it his - from head to toe. As he opened his eyes weakly to survey the area, he saw someone standing over him.

"Do you know that the rat has been called the world's most destructive mammal—other than man?" he said.

It all seemed like a dream so he closed his eyes again. _Marlene? What's happened to Marlene? She is okay. Okay, good. She's crying in fear, but still battling the rats. Can't move...have to have help!_

It was a losing battle. For every two she repelled, one made it on to her island. Those that made it hung back as far as possible, darting out occasionally to nip at her. The small ones—those less than twenty pounds—weren't nearly as troublesome as the larger rats that were less intimidated by the size of their human attacker. The smaller ones could also only take smaller bites. She knew it wouldn't be long until they all got her, too. _Poor Harry_ , she thought. _At least he fought them to the end._ _He turned out to be a hero after all._

She didn't know he wasn't dead. Not yet, anyway, he wanted to tell her. Not yet. He was just tired. Tired. Needed to rest. He couldn't keep his eyes open. Cold. He shivered and saw this reality go to black.

Marlene's worst nightmare seemed yet to come. A spider more than a yard in diameter appeared from the passageway, fighting its way to the drier ground. If that one made it to the island, it would be over. The largest and strongest of the spiders were now making their way to the island, but using the walls and ceiling, climbing over floating corpses in the water. There was no stopping them.

At the same time, the two heard the irregular splashes of a crocodile coming from the opposite direction. The sloshing sound became louder. Louder! The unmistakable horror she and Harry had experienced earlier was far from forgotten. He forced his swollen eyes to see the croc. It was big. Roughly the same size as the one he had helped vanquish. It was coming right at them! He hoped their deaths would be quick. With that thought, he lost consciousness and there was only black silence—an eerie peace.

Shadowy arms reached for Harry and pulled him inside. Carlos stepped out and grabbed Marlene from behind. She screamed until she realized who had her. The steel door slammed shut as quickly as it had opened.

The rats and spiders had the island to themselves in their attempt to survive they continued to eradicate the weakest of their own species, and each other. The rats had an obvious size advantage, but the spiders had a poisonous bite. It wouldn't be long until there was nothing alive on the tiny island again—except for maybe the crocodile coming to mop up and rest after feeding on the fresh remains of the sewer creatures on the slightly lower end of the food chain.

# CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

_"It may be that reality is an illusion of movement in an eternal, static, multidimensional universe."_ **\- H. G. Wells**

Captain Jackson's surviving soldiers accepted Lieutenant Kieran O'Shea's authority without question, or so it seemed for the moment. Honeymoon period? She was concerned they might challenge her authority when the going got rough, and it was about to get very rough. _Perhaps I'm just a little nervous,_ she thought _, new group and all._ She was thankful Greg had trained them well; they did have discipline. _Let's see if they can follow me now. Mother-General is right to put me in this position, Greg, but where are you now, my friend, as the battle is about to begin?_

.

While on another part of the battleground...

"Well, I see you're still here. Can't do any harm now," the Shadow said mockingly.

Winston was still all dressed up like a Christmas tree with grenades for ornaments.

"Where do you think I'd go all dressed to kill? Don't you think you could have made the wires a little tighter? They're cutting off my circulation."

"I see I should have gagged you, too."

"You were gone a long time. Now what?"

"You're very brave for a man tied up in a room with a very mean soldier."

"I don't see a lot of hope in my situation," said Winston. "If you are a soldier as you say you are, why aren't you with the other soldiers?"

"I don't know why I should tell you."

"Just curious as to your role in all this. Those who about to die should have a right to know."

"Fair enough...I got separated from my men. I salvage tools and weapons. I thought I had a dead factory, but it was a trap. I barely made it out alive. Most of my team didn't that I know of. Now, Makr and his cyberts have my heat signature, my image and plenty of information if any of my men were still alive to torture, which I doubt."

"The monster!"

"Yeah, monster."

"Are you sure they aren't alive? You escaped."

"Not likely after the explosion."

"The cyberts blew up the factory?"

"No, I did."

Winston was silent.

"Yes, I killed them. I killed my own men. Had to. Cyber can't know the extent of our weapons knowledge. Had to kill the cyberts before they uploaded information to Makr. I had to."

"I'm sorry about your people, but what about us here? If Makr knows you... won't He be able to locate you wherever you hide?"

"That's pretty much it, but that's why I hijacked your hovercar. I need the mobility. I hope it's fast enough."

"Me, too," agreed Winston as he looked around, desperately hoping he didn't spot a cybert of any kind.

"Not to worry. I left you here so I could create a safe zone of electronic chaff to confuse cyber sensors. We should be okay for now."

"Makr isn't connected to me out here. You could just let me go. You can have the hovercar. I can walk."

Winston winced as he thought the Shadow was going to strike him. Instead, he just continued talking. His tone was surprisingly less threatening.

"Rumor has it we're about to fight our last battle—the one we've all been waiting for. Like it or not, you're going to help me."

"What? Not me. Do I look like a soldier to you? I'm an indoors kinda guy."

"Our children become soldiers at sixteen," Jackson said, referring to the Nest.

"Well, I never..."

Winston squirmed in his wires, but the sharp pain of them digging in made him stop quickly. _What have I gotten myself into?_ he thought.

"Better decide which side you're going to be on," said the Shadow. "Bio or Cyber?"

"Do I have a choice?"

"No, but I'd rather have a volunteer."

"Why the hell not?" Always go for the gusto, he thought. "Okay, I'm your man. Now, will you get me out of this thing before my hands slip?"

The Shadow took the grenade from Winston's left hand then let it drop harmlessly onto the floor with a thud. He did the same with the one in the right hand.

"Duds? Duds?" Winston blustered and struggled to free himself. "You made me sit there and sweat for nothing?"

"Kept you honest while I reconnoitered and laid my Cyber traps."

"Are you going to release me from these bindings? It's getting a little hard to breathe."

"Then don't breathe," said his captor.

There was a pause as Winston just looked at him. It was almost a pathetic look, although Winston would have glared at him if he had thought it would do him any good. That would have fit his personality, but it wouldn't serve his purpose. The grenades were gone now and the Shadow soldier was armed again.

"Look, you have your job and I have mine," Winston said.

"What job?"

"Uh...Doesn't matter really. The important thing..."

"Listen, little man, I don't have time to make you my friend or my ally. You have landed yourself in the middle of a battlefield. The important thing, like it or not, is that you're in it."

"I don't even know what this is all about."

"Most of you Insiders don't, and if you do know what's happening out here, you don't care as long as your asses are safe. I doubt if anything you were going to do for Makr will be of any value now, but I can tell you in a few hours, we'll either be dead or sifting through Makr's ashes."

Kieran had found a way down to the Nest from above. The manhole cover was heavy, but she used the sharp steel lip on the butt of her laser ax to pry it up. Moonlight cast a continuous shadow along the street, making her soldiers nearly invisible. Her combat-modified laser ax was at the ready, cradled in her arm; she had it set for a narrow condensed beam for use as a weapon rather than its usual flat beam. She looked around 360 degrees and listened intently for any sound that might indicate Cyber movement. Nothing.

She lowered herself down the manhole, stopping just short of the shallow brackish water below. _No crocs here. It's quiet. Too quiet. C'mon you're being paranoid. Just because it's quiet...No creature is stirring, not even a mouse_. Harry had said that to her once and now she had a literal reference. She smiled at the thought, and the smile took the edge off of her anxiety.

She checked out the tunnel area visually and listened as before. _Darker than usual though. Not enough luminous lichen to light the way. We'll have to feel our way for a while. Just hope there's nothing resting on these walls._ There were always a fair amount of nasty bugs in this sector, but the only ones to really watch out for were the arachnids—spiders, very large and extremely poisonous. As she listened to the tunnel's natural sounds, she heard a rhythmic sloshing a little too regular for the crocodiles. Sounded like Cyber were heading toward Carlos!

She changed her setting on the laser ax to infrared, and aimed the weapon upward through the manhole. Three flashes ought to do it. Hopefully, Cyber weren't looking for that. She boasted to herself, w _e can be adaptable and spontaneous-that's what makes us better than all of you bastards!_

As her soldiers began their orderly descent into the tunnel, she changed the setting on her weapon back to full power. She lowered herself into the cold, filthy, shallow water as silently as possible. The others followed suit. When all were down she signaled a huddle, making a circle in the air with her Stealth-gloved hands.

Her team consisted of 25 soldiers now, including herself. Sixteen men and nine women. Ten, including Jackson, had been missing in action for a week or more. This group was not his most hardened batch of combat soldiers. Although every one of them was strongly disciplined and savvy as Jackson would have trained them to be, they were relatively inexperienced in the tunnels and in combat with cyberts. Their combat experience had been limited to a few skirmishes in the surface shadows, but mostly they had been engaged in scavenging for weapons. They know the battle plan above better; she would be the one lacking in experience, but down here she knew her way around. They'd just have to help each other.

"We have less than an hour before we strike the factory above. Here's where we begin. We will make our way to Captain Montoya's Nest. We lost Mother-General's signal thirty minutes ago. We hope she is just maintaining radio silence, but even if you haven't spent a lot of time in these tunnels, you know how dangerous they can be."

"What happens if they didn't make it, Lieutenant?"

"We're on our own and we go to Plan B—which is to make our way to the top and do as much damage as possible. At that point, the more noise and confusion we cause, the more damage reaches Makr's mainframe and database."

She didn't tell them that the main reason she had led them here was to find Harry and Marlene or Jana whatever-her-name-was. _Mother-General spoke of the two newcomers as if they are the key to our success or failure,_ she thought _._ In Kieran's black and white reality, they were gray and out of focus. Regardless, she knew her duty. If either of the two did anything the least bit suspicious, she'd do what was necessary.

Plan A was for her and her team to stay topside and wait. When the 'go' was given, they were to keep as many cyberts as possible out of the action in the primary cyberserver quadrant. Attacking there would send as many defensive cyberts as needed to repel the attackers. But there was time, she thought, to help her own Nest before the final battle, and to help Carlos if she could.

Acting on a hunch was not particularly scientific. It was risky even. _That's what we humans do best. We take risks._ Thanks to Harry, she'd learned that essential difference between Cyber and Bio. From an Insider! She couldn't believe it herself, but there was something about Harry, something in the way he thought, something in what he said that had meaning for all. Not just Touchable or Shadows but everyone. _Maybe he is the one they've been waiting for,_ she thought, and then tried to shake the ridiculous idea from her head. What she did know for a fact was that she had spent her life trying to figure out the qualitative difference between Shadows and Cyber. Now, she had an opportunity to prove it.

She cleared her mind so she could concentrate fully on the task ahead. So far...slow going, but no incidents. No bugs. No rats. No sizzle or zap—the telltale signs of the cybert-exterminators. But...this list of what was not present—was not good.

# CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

_"If you can't find an adequate intellect, evolve one."_ **\- Makr**

"Harry. Wake up, Harry." Carlos shook his shoulder. "Are you alive, hero?" The tone of his voice was a little bitter. He had managed to hide most of his feelings, but not all. He knew this wasn't the time for rage—except against the Cyber.

"If he's not dead, yet, he will be when you've finished shaking him." Marlene had recovered more quickly, her wounds not as numerous or as deep. Three of the female Shadow soldiers were rubbing gel on them.

Harry started up. "Where am...?" The walls, ceiling and floor swirled, then grew dim. He was blacking out again. His body felt heavy but someone was holding him up. He opened his eyes to see the silver-haired woman he had glimpsed at the Touchable sanctuary.

"Steady. You've lost a lot of blood." Mother was applying the gel with her fingers, but it seemed to be having little rejuvenating effect on Harry. "We need to get liquids in him, Carlos, but he doesn't have the strength to drink."

"He shouldn't drink. I think he's bleeding internally. He took quite a beating out there and it looks like some of his wounds are deep enough for the poison...

"No, he can't be. Not now! Not now, Carlos!" That the Mother-General was nearly hysterical didn't go unnoticed.

"I'm afraid so," Carlos said, baffled by his mother's outcry.

The desperate, anguished look he saw escaping beneath his mother's camouflaged face and teary eyes reflected more pain than he had ever thought possible. Tears made dirty streams down her face, as she clutched him, begged him, "You've got to do something, Carlos. You have to save him."

"There's nothing we can do. Not even a transfusion. Don't you understand, Mother? He's bleeding inside. The rats really ripped him open."

"You've got to... He's..."

"He's what, Mother?"

_It's no use,_ she thought. "He's our salvation. Our Savior. Our Messiah."

"You don't believe that bunk we spread around do you? We're our own salvation. You told me that for years."

Mother tried looking away but she was drawn back to injured man.

Carlos seeing his mother suffer, "Maybe there is something we can do." He turned to two of sergeants. "Take him to the Healing Room. Immerse him in the gel. Maybe that will bring him around."

Mother-General smiled gratefully, very proud of her son, the leader. She knew he'd never hesitate in taking charge of a situation.

At that moment, she only wanted to be is a mother. It was a role she never had time to play, nor played very well when she did have time. Thirty years had passed and she didn't know two of her children at all. She felt she hadn't changed much from thirty years ago, but she had. Lara of old was different. That Lara was selfless and determined to save her children from total Cyber manipulation. She had grown harder, tougher in trying to do so. Perhaps now the line between self-sacrifice and self-interest was blurred, but she hadn't the luxury of time to worry about that. She knew she wouldn't live much longer, and she wanted to spend the time she had left with her children.

She had grown tired of waiting for all this to come about. The gel couldn't help the hurt she felt inside. However, the gel was a blessing. No one knew what it had originally been intended for, but it healed the sick that weren't too sick, and gave strength to those who were. With other care, they might gain the strength to heal. That was the important thing.

She had always had compassion for all her people, but now it seemed she saved it for her children. She knew she had to ration some of that strength. She had put her children first. Nobody could ever say she didn't love her children. She had defend her people against a fiendish force at the same time. She hoped her children understood. So seldom had she shown compassion for anyone else lately that even Carlos saw her as unfeeling, uncaring, yet he couldn't argue that her vision, motivation, and direction was bad for any Shadow's Nest.

She worried she may not have been a good mother at times when she may have seemed cold, ruthless, or worse—unfeeling to them. _It made them strong_ , she argued. She couldn't be seen as soft; there had to be discipline. Those who didn't have it, perished. Granted, sometimes at the hands of a fellow Shadow, but then the point was survival of the fittest, the strongest and the smartest.

But not always. Not this time. Not for her Harry.

It had always seemed to Carlos and most others that Ramón had been her favorite child. Not true. Among her children, she had no favorites. Carlos had seen her dress wounds of fallen comrades before, but she never seemed to give such tender care, or be this personally involved as she was with Harry.

This fallen comrade was special to her. Carlos wondered why and was in a bit of a quandary. His own people resented that he had arbitrarily placed them in danger by returning Harry and Marlene to the Nest. He knew they were wrong, of course, but it was too late to be blaming anyone for anything. The damage was done. _All of us are responsible_ , he thought. _We became responsible when we let the Cyber take over_. He mulled it over philosophically. Perhaps the guilt he felt was because those ancient humans who had needed Cyber to rule were his ancestors who, in their wisest search for answers, gave up their freedom for survival. _Best we can do now is not let our lack of commitment embarrass them_.

In spite of how his soldiers, his brothers and sisters may have been feeling, they came when called on to place Harry gently into the gel. They were showing unusual compassion for someone they probably felt had given their location away. Or, perhaps it was merely their way of saying to Carlos: We are angry at you, not him. Time was short. Less than fifteen minutes to go. _Hurry up, Harry. Get your strength back_ , Carlos thought. _The wounds will heal, but the blood_... Could the gel replenish the lost blood? He doubted it, but it was the only option left. _We need a miracle, Harry. Can you deliver it?_ There was no answer.

Harry would be lucky if they had a few minutes before the battle. If he couldn't fight, he'd need the strength to hide. He needed time—something no one could supply extras of. Yet, there was one more thing he could do.

"Singh, can you adjust the setting on one of the laser axes so we can weld the access doors shut?" _Wouldn't hold the Cyber for long, but it may give us a few extra minutes until they figure out how to blast or cut their way in,_ Carlos decided.

"Yes, sir. I'm sure I can,"

"Then do it, will you? Then take a couple of Shadows to weld us in—all except our escape route. If there's still time, come back and weld the doors on the Healing Room as well."

"The Healing Room? I don't understand."

"There's not really time to explain. Let's just say I don't want to leave any Bio—even this one—to face Cyber without some protection."

Carlos went to Harry who was in the Healing Room by now.

"Harry. Harry. Harry."

He wasn't sure who he should be more angry and upset with: Harry, or with himself for trusting his new friend.

"He's your brother, you know. Ray's son."

Lara stood next to one son while looking in on the other.

"What! I knew there was more to him...something you weren't telling, something unknown even to him, but I thought it a bit more diabolical than that," said Carlos. "My brother? Is he the one you spoke of when you ordered me to leave your Nest? Was he to take my place? Was he?"

He was visibly upset. Damn her.

"No one can take your place, Carlos. I'm surprised at you. You're my son and always will be. Harry is too, but he comes from an earlier time. An awful time."

"And, Marlene, I suppose is my sister?"

"Why, yes. How'd you guess?"

"What? I didn't. I was being sarcastic." _What a day this is turning out to be!_

"It may not even matter now in the grand scheme of things."

"But, why? Why did you do it? Why did you hide them from me?"

"I hid them from me, too, because I needed to use them. I couldn't trust anyone—not even you. We needed to learn as much as we could about the Inside, as quickly as we could. Outside is no place to raise children. Oh, we do fine now, but back then before Stealth it was a hardship to survive and the children suffered the most. I sent them back Inside. We were tracking them, generally at first. Just keeping an eye on them. Then, spying on them in a more refined way as they grew into adults as we learned more about Makr."

"I still don't believe it. How could you?"

"Excuse me, sir," Singh interrupted, "we're ready to weld the doors here."

"If you will excuse me, Mother-General...I have work to do."

"I want to stay with Harry."

Carlos was stunned. "All right, stay here. Probably safer here anyway." She came to him and kissed him on his cheek, tried to hold him, but Carlos pulled away.

"I did it for you...for all of us."

"I think you did it for yourself, Mother-General. You always liked the power, didn't you?" He turned his back on her and moved towards the door. Just as he reached it, he turned back to her. "Don't worry, Mother-General. When this is over, we'll be back for you and Harry. What do you want to do about Marlene...er...Jana?"

"Keep her safe, Carlos. Keep her safe. Maybe, when this is..." He was gone.

Lara stood watching the door he left by. There were more tears. _He'll be back,_ she thought. _I'm sooo sorry, Carlos_. She couldn't sob openly; she'd always had the control. Then, as if by her command, the tears stopped flowing and she looked in at Harry who seemed to be sleeping peacefully in the gel.

"Harry. Harry. I hope you can hear me now. Please come out of this. We need you, son. I need you." If he lived, she figured, she broke even. _Lost one, gained one._ No, she didn't mean it! A mother couldn't mean that! This time she couldn't command the tears to stop.

# CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

_"Filthy water cannot be washed."_ **\- Old African Proverb** _._

"Water, water and more water! I've never seen so much water down here before," Lieutenant Kieran O'Shea said, as she led her people through the tunnel maze.

"Maybe one of the pipes burst and the Cyber haven't figured out how to fix it yet," Sergeant Carter Gray offered.

"Possibly. But I've known pipes to burst down here before. Never so much water. I tell you something is not right!"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Sorry, I don't mean to be so..."

"Water's getting deeper fast, Lieutenant," announced her point man up ahead.

"That rips it," she said. "Looks like the Cyber are flooding the tunnels to get rid of Bio critters before they attack in force. What's your take on this, Sergeant?"

"If that is part of Makr's plan, we've more to worry about. Cyberts don't routinely use water for anything they don't have to. Most cyberts today are made with rustproof composites. Getting rid of Bio critters would make cybert movement more efficient down here. And we'd be trapped, either by water or cyber. Either way, we're dead."

"Agreed. That makes it all the more important to find Harry and Marlene...and Carlos and Mother-General—and anyone else still alive in the Nest."

As they pressed ahead, the water soon came up to waist high. _Keep your eyes and ears open,_ Kieran told herself. _Don't drop the ball...They're counting on you_. She heard a familiar click.

"Down! Everybody down!" she screamed. She saw the flash almost too late, but she felt the heat before she felt the force of the explosion. Even muffled under a few feet of water, the roar was deafening. Underwater, the current forced her backwards and slammed her hard against a wall. Metal shrapnel and rock debris zinged through the water, some pieces hitting, stinging her back and burning her shoulder. A fiery furnace raged above—the product of natural gas and methane created by the sewage. The fire was so hot it was melting stone and steel, while filling the rest of the tunnel with thick clouds of steam.

Above her, the hotter blue and white flames danced as the walls glowed red hot in the background. Her lungs bursting, she waited another minute until the flames died down. The water had become so opaque with suspended debris that she couldn't locate any of her team. Undoubtedly, some of her companions had been wounded or killed. She was lucky.

Her air giving out meant it was time to risk it out of the water. Kieran surfaced at about the same time as Sergeant Gray and a few others, all quickly filling their lungs with steamy air, followed immediately by the rest of those who had made it below the waterline in time. She wasted no time counting heads and was three soldiers short. She looked behind her, trying to find her "lost" soldiers. Before the sharp tunnel curve further back, she saw bloody smears on the walls that weren't red hot, and bodies floating face down in the muck. The force of the explosion had knocked some of her soldiers back a hundred yards before smashing them against the walls. The rest seemed okay—just a few cuts and bruises. Her shoulder burned, but she'd live—for now.

While the cloudy fog cooled and dissipated, the fires were still burning a couple of yards apart a few minutes later as they started down the tunnel where the blast seemed to have originated. When they arrived, the door wouldn't budge.

"The blast..." Sergeant Gray started.

"I don't think so," said the lieutenant, shining her flashlight along the makeshift door's visible edges. "It's fused on the inside as if someone's welded it shut on the inside."

And fresh blood _. Lots of it. Not ours, I hope._ She was looking for something else and found it!

"Look," Kieran poked at several pieces of freshly scorched metal.

"Cybert trash. You don't think...?" Even the old veteran, Gray, looked grimly at the wreckage.

Stainless steel wreckage. Armor plate. Cybert. Looked to be a big one.

"Why, that sly dog." She smiled. "Carlos caused the blast. I'd guess a grenade or two. These tunnels are ripe with oil sludge, methane, and natural gas leakage. Probably explains why the door is still here. Cyberts can cut through the walls easily if they want to. He must have stalled them with the blast and welded the entrance shut. That means the Nest could escape topside. We better beat it, too."

"All this blood?"

"I'm hoping it's from some of the animals of the tunnel. This looks like high ground in the tunnel. Never noticed it before."

"This means the final battle's started Outside."

"Indeed it does." She signaled to the others to turn back. "Our job is topside. We need to go back a few hundred yards to another surface access. It opens inside the factory above. Few of us have been up there. I'm not sure what we'll find on the other side of the hatch."

"When do we ever know for sure what's happening next?"

"Good point. Let's go."

# CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

_"In the beginning of a change, the patriot is a scarce man, brave, hated, and scorned. When his cause succeeds however, the timid join him, for then it costs nothing to be a patriot."_ **\- Mark Twain**

Meanwhile, the battle had begun topside, Winston making the best of it.

"Wahoo! It has begun!"

Hovering about five hundred feet above ground-level, Greg Jackson looked through one of his prized scavenger treasures, 21st century night vision goggles which allowed him to see clearly, although green tinted, what was happening below no matter how dark it was. Not even his own Shadows could hide from him.

As he kept watch, looking intently for some sign of Carlos' group, he wondered why Makr hadn't pressed this technology into service. Makr's cyberts should have thrown it out with all the other war weapons that were located when all this started years ago. But why leave this to be found by the humans?

He was surprised he could even see figures running. No Stealth for some, but this was a now or never kind of move so it may not have mattered much anyway. The explosions were all part of coordinated and synchronized actions he had discussed with Mother-General before his latest recon run. Although his latest reconnaissance mission had prevented him from returning home or contacting the Nest, he presumed his job was still to watch Carlos' back as he and his Nest escaped out the back way. So far, nothing. No sign of them. Shouldn't there be more explosions in Carlos' sector now, he wondered. It was just too quiet down there.

"Wow, so that's what this place looks like without SensaVision," Winston said, taking a turn with the night vision goggles.

"That's right, my friend, get used to it. When Makr's gone I doubt we'll see SensaVision again."

"Woefully, I guess that's true." Winston had always appreciated the moments of bliss and gratification afforded by SensaVision. Adapting to reality was possible--just not terribly pleasant. Look at these fellas, he thought. Bad example. But he had noticed this Shadow seemed to be less authoritarian, less obnoxious. The moment made them allies, albeit strange allies, but they had the best common thread: humanity.

The two independent agents of destiny hadn't attacked yet as they watched below. There were flashes of explosions going off all over the city and, unseen by them, all over the world. Reckoning Day.

Not only the strong would survive. So would the cowardly and the lucky. It made the comrades smile to see the rows and rows of factory cyberts, some security cyberts and even the street janitors frozen in their path. Jackson decided to take a closer look. As the hovercar floated downward, he turned to his companion with a smile. He stuck out his hand again. Winston eyed him suspiciously but took it anyway.

"My name is Greg Jackson. If we're going to be partners in this grand revolution, we should at least know each other's names."

"Winston Salem...er...glad to meet you, partner."

"Call me Greg, please."

Winston nodded. "How long do you think this will last, Greg?"

Greg shrugs. "As long as we breathe."

This was one serious individual, thought Winston. _Are all the Shadows like this one?_ he wondered.

"You know, I've lived my entire life in the Shadows," Greg continued. "One time, just one time, I'd like to see the world around me without looking over my shoulder."

"I guess we aren't much different there. I've never seen the real world because I've always had blinders on, and I always wanted someone looking after me. I didn't know what I was missing. This reality may be bleak and unpleasant, but it's honest. You can trust it"

We can't trust each other, but we have to trust reality, Winston thought. Both men from different sides of reality relaxed a bit for a moment as movement below had stopped. The sun was rising—a big bright orange ball sitting on the horizon—elongating shadows and giving everything below a rosy hue now. He put the night vision goggles away for now.

Suddenly, there was a knocking on the outside of the flying vehicle. Tiny black flying creatures the size of bumble bees were hitting the car's exterior as if to get the occupants' attention. Instinctively, Greg slowed down to get a better look.

Never having seen bees before, Winston had no idea of what was happening.

"We've got a problem," Greg announced. "We're being followed..." He looked down at a small screen he had installed on the hovercar's dashboard to see the reality on the ground—a bank of red indicators—telling him cybert lasers were moving like spotlights in their direction.

"Let's get out of here!" they both shouted simultaneously.

He shoved the throttle all the way forward and pulled back on the elevator. The hovercar responded with incredible acceleration, forcing its passengers hard into their seats as it reached beyond gravity.

Greg turned his head enough to see an incredulous Winston. "I modified your vehicle a bit."

"Glad you did," said Winston calmly, as if he was just along for the ride. Steal my 'car will ya? "Still can't see the lasers," he said smugly.

"Don't worry. They're there, and looking for us. This is one time I'd trust a machine," he said, patting his detection device on the dash.

At that moment, the dashboard monitor exploded as it was hit by a laser blast.

"Great! Just great!" So much for an early warning system, thought Winston.

Greg slammed the stick back and punched the accelerator throttle even more to get the craft out of range, but he wasn't fast enough. The hovercar was suddenly assaulted with ten or twelve laser blasts that were burning half-inch holes in non-critical parts of the hovercraft, with a few narrowly missing its occupants.

"Where did that come from?" whined a nervous Winston.

"There must be an entire bank of laser cannons—like artillery—hidden down there with SensaVision. How can Makr bring it to us way up here?"

"Greg, it'll be fine to ponder that later, but can we save our asses now?"

"Guess we should see if we broke anything." Greg had not been this introspective since they'd met. His voice was strangely quiet and calm.

"You are scaring me, pal," Winston said. "We get blasted from the earth some 5,000 feet or so, and you say, we might have broken something. We're lucky to be alive."

"Shall we thank Makr for that?" He made a cursory damage assessment. "We're still afloat. No system damage."

"What do you make of that?" Winston asked.

"I don't know for sure. Cybert adaptation to our use of air tactics maybe. But it's not complete. Depending on the models, some adapt quickly, some don't. Weak points. If we find those..."

"What do we do now? They can find us and kill us up here...oh, shiiiit!"

"What's wrong?

"I'm hit! Bleeding!" He was trying to wrap some of his Stealth fabric around his left leg to stop the flow of the blood, but it wasn't working.

Greg grabbed his laser ax and changed the setting. "Here, this will cauterize the wound."

"Hey, are you nuts? That'll really hurt!"

"No kidding. Want to bleed to death?"

"No," Winston admitted and submitted., "One leg wound ready for treatment."

"Hang in there. Lowest setting. I'll be quick."

It was obvious from Greg's confidence that he had done this numerous times before. Winston noticed several burn scars around Greg's neck and wondered if they had been caused the same way.

"Ow!" he protested."Makrrrr!" Then he screamed as the laser seared the flesh and sealed the wound.

"Such a baby. Done."

"Sorry. That's it?"

Greg nodded. "You'll have quite a scar though."

"I didn't mean to sound like such a wimp."

"Don't worry, you'll feel more pain later. Then, you can be a wimp."

Winston winced at the notion that he was beginning to think like his kidnapper/partner.

He looked up and glanced to his side to see the bees were back, neck and neck with them, flying at an amazing speed. "Greg, how fast are we going?"

"About 230 miles per hour. Why?"

"We still have company," he said, nervously staring out on the right side of the hovercar's dome.

"Tighten your seatbelt," Greg warned.

"How can they go that fast?"

"Tighten your seatbelt!"

"Tiny engines..." Winston gave him a quizzical look. "I'm not going to like this, am I?"

"Just hold on!"

Greg turned the hovercar quickly to check the bees' response time. He did this three or four times as he did before, and each time, the bees adjusted accordingly after a fraction of a second. Twice as fast. Then he knew what he had to do. He pointed the hovercar downward and plummeted toward the ground as fast as the accelerator could push it.

"This doesn't seem safe, Greg. Greg? Greg!" With each 'Greg,' he screeched his increasing terror with more volume and pitch.

"Greg! What're you doing?" Winston half cried and half pleaded. Pushed back in his seat by the g-forces, he could hardly get the words out. He watched in horror at the earth rising to meet them face-to-face. There was a reason he wanted to be in control in any situation at all, and this was it. Winston noticed the 'bees' on his side of the vehicle were keeping pace with the hovercar even as its pace doubled, then tripled.

Greg smiled, then said, "Trust me," as he kept an eye on the hovercar's altimeter...500, 400, 300. Bees still there. 200, 100. Hope Makr never thought of this scenario. Only one way to find out. At 50 feet he hit the automatic leveling switch. The hovercar performed as it was told, leveling off immediately and leaving the bees little time to adjust. There wasn't enough time. The tiny cyberts crashed into the pavement below, shattering into thousands of minuscule pieces of metal.

"Pull over! Pull over, Jackson, now!"

Not sure what was happening with his new partner, he brought the hovercar to halt, hovering some hundred feet off the ground. Suddenly the canopy slid back and he saw Winston bent over the hovercar's side retching, losing the contents of his stomach and spraying anything below them.

Meanwhile, in the hovercar, Greg was elated with success and pumped full of nature's high: adrenaline. His smile changed to a grimace when the smell of Winston's vomit gagged him and he, too, couldn't help but be sick over his side of the vehicle as well. Logic would have made it merely the results of too much acceleration one way and the sudden return to level, leaving their stomachs on the ground.

"Now what?" Winston asked, adrenalin held back and suddenly acting as if nothing had happened. He was looking a little green.

"I hope we got some on a few Cyber," said Greg, wiping his mouth on his sleeve.

"I'd rather get something on them that'll do more damage."

Comrades who threw up together...

It was the first time Winston recalled ever having regurgitated—or feeling unwell. A rather unpleasant and novel experience. Disgusting actually. There was something to be said for living a sheltered existence

Not too surprisingly, Winston concluded, even after the laser burn. He'd rather experience the pain. So his nausea was nothing. It made him angry, focused, and feeling more alive than ever.

"I've had enough driving fun," Greg said. "I think it's time you earned your freedom, and we use some of these explosives. You drive...er...fly...er...Winston, is it?"

"Sure. Glad to." _I think. Hope there aren't any more of those flying things._

Awkwardly, they traded places, climbing over each other, one grabbing the controls in turn carefully because there was no true auto-pilot even though the craft was hovering; a shift of weight at the wrong time could have sent them spinning into a two- or three-hundred-foot building. Greg moved into the other side and began preparing the explosives.

Once again in the driver's seat, Winston's coaxed the hovercar higher and higher until he was at a comfortable 10,000 feet. His arm stung from the burn now, so he rubbed it. He checked the air space around them one last time before his breathing was back to normal.

Greg was busy checking his cache of explosive devices, while Winston kept a lookout. No sign of any more bees; however, there were numerous flashes still going on around the city.

Mild turbulence jarred the hovercar, but it was not caused by natural weather patterns. The numerous massive explosions and fires below were heating the air, causing strong currents with a potential for dangerous wind shears. The warmer air forced the colder air outward and upward. The hovercar's practical guidance system adjusted quickly to the minor turbulence and made automatic course corrections to handle local wind shears. The system worked flawlessly until it was faced with a force equal to all the smaller explosions combined below.

The entire ground lit up and the pair heard a deafening roar as smoke and dust billowed up as high as three thousand feet. They felt the force of explosion even at their altitude of roughly 10,000 feet. The bluish and white flames, exiting the streets below through vents and other access points, looked like rocket thrusters, but even the stunned observers knew better.

The explosions must have been underground because manhole covers, grates and other hatches that led to the surface were violently blown out, tossed like feathers in the wind. The hovercar shook and rocked as an extreme rush of hot air shot it upward, spiraling out of control.

"Let the autopilot take control of it," Greg yelled at Winston in the chaos that followed. His nicely packed explosives were falling all around them, some striking them painfully as they bounced erratically around the tiny cabin.

"Can't! You disabled it, remember!"

"Shit!"

"Don't worry. Think I've got this situation under control. I think..."

He managed to turn the hovercar's nose away from the massive explosion and send the vehicle higher in the sky. The hot air kept them further aloft for a while, then dissipated. They both breathed a sigh of relief. As the hot air current was neutralized, the hovercar hung in the air a moment before falling back, then was sucked back to earth by the powerful vacuum caused by the retreating hot air current. If gravity had been the only force acting on it, the hovercar probably could have stabilized itself easily; certain pressures were expected when an occupant lost control. This wasn't one of those times. This situation would take more than automated mechanical force.

Winston acted on sheer instinct when they started the backward rush to earth; he shoved the throttle all the way forward and pulled the stick as far back as he could.

"Help me hold it!" he yelled.

With Greg's assistance, Winston was now able to bring the hovercar into a backward roll, pointing the nose to the ground.

"This is a help?"

"Watch. Basic physics," Winston said. "Besides, you did it to me. Fair is fair."

Greg yelled, "If you weren't driving I'd kill you!"

As they plummeted again faster and faster toward the earth, the hovercar's inertia and air speed became greater than gravity and the vacuum. Winston gripped the stick with both hands and pulled it as far back as he could. Nothing happened. No response.

"You'll probably be too late!" yelled Winston.

8,000 feet. Greg was silent this time, his eyes glued to the altimeter.

"Can you increase the speed?" he asked Greg. "You did 'modify' this car, didn't you?"

7,000 feet.

"The big red button starts a rocket booster."

"A rocket booster? Ever use it before?"

"No!"

6,000 feet.

"Always a first time," said Winston as he hit the button with his fist. He and his partner were slammed back in their seats by several extra 'G's. He held the stick back as far as it would go. Meanwhile, the ground raced up to meet them head on.

3000 feet.

"I sure hope you know what you're doing," Greg said, his eyes glued to the altimeter and both hands gripping the armrests."

2000 feet.

"Any time now," Winston said through clinched teeth. The extra 'Gs' held each man fast against his seat, unable to move his head to either side. "C'mon baby. Show me you can take the stress."

1000 feet.

The hovercar's nose inched upward until the craft reached its zenith and achieved the critical downward motion that became its forward motion.

"Leveling now," Winston noted proudly as he sensed a change in the car's attitude.

Greg and Winston shared a look and sigh of relief. "Basic physics. In order to control force, you need to have more force to begin with. Your mod gave us the force we needed. Yes, sir. You can breathe now," he said.

Greg wiggled his fingers to get the blood circulating in both his hands—those with the white knuckles.

"That was the biggest explosion I've ever seen," Greg commented, avoiding talk of the narrow escape.

"It was a first for me, too." In truth, he had never seen an explosion before. Rather exciting, he thought, liking the daredevil in himself. Amazingly, neither man was sick this time.

Greg changed the subject. "That is Carlos' sector." He was looking down at the section of the city where they had experienced the potent explosion.

"Who's that?"

"A friend."

"Sorry." He could see his new partner was markedly distressed at that revelation. "He may have escaped before the explosion," Winston offered.

Greg shook his head. "I don't think so. You saw what it did to us. Imagine what it must have been like down there. Besides, it wasn't just him. Who knows how many people. There are probably four or five hundred of my people down there underground on a normal day...and this is not normal."

"Doesn't look like it touched the outside of the huge factory above it either."

From the air, it was possible to see the factory's immense superstructure still standing. Winston did not know of any Makr project that was as large as that. _What happened to the people who used to live down there?_

"Get us back down there, will you?" Greg sounded like he was back in charge. "Slowly please."

Winston was happy to comply.

"Let's see if we can sneak up on the cybert lasers that tried to take us out. Maybe without their spy bees, we can...

# CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

"I'm completely operational and all my circuits are functioning perfectly."

_"I'm sorry Dave; I can't let you do that." - HAL 9000 in the film,_ _2001: A Space Odyssey_ _by_ **Arthur C. Clarke**

So far so good, thought Carlos, as he noticed that the factory entrance below was unguarded. He had not had any close encounters with any cyberts on their way here. Either the explosion in the tunnel had helped accomplish this remarkable feat, or someone had got there before them. The grenades he had put down the chute to the tunnel to delay the Cyber had worked better than he had planned. They had set off an even bigger explosion by igniting the natural gas, petroleum waste and inflammable chemicals that were present. _Should have thought of that years ago,_ he thought. _Cyber must have cleaned out the tunnels plenty._

I just hope Mother and Harry are all right in the Healing Room.

The escape route that Carlos had in mind went up from one of the farthest points in his underground community, up into a part of the large factory overhead. On any ordinary day, the area was filled with cyberts. Today was not an "ordinary" day. Carlos and his shadows had no idea what to expect topside or in the building above. They would have to take it very slowly, and hope it was still business as usual. Not all cyberts were a threat. Just those armed with death.

He hated blindly moving forward, but there was no other option. If they moved slowly, the factory cyberts might not even detect them if they weren't equipped to do so. It was the only way to ensure his Nest's safety for as long as possible. If they had tried to reconnoiter the area, they might have attracted attention, but at least they would have had the intelligence they needed. Now, they had no choice but to go in with blind faith.

His Shadows had walled off the stairwell up to the factory earlier, knowing full well that unless the cyberts had business at that exact location, they would never notice the wall. If they had noticed, there would have been enough time to escape through another exit. Now, the Shadows were in the process of cutting through the massive steel door at the top of the stairwell to make an opening large enough for them to slip through—just large enough to squeeze through. No point in making it easy for the Cyber to slip through as well.

When the laser ax had done the job, the men switched the blade to a single thin beam. This would be their main weapon. Their only weapon in here—most likely their last stand.

Anxiously, they listened through the steel perforation for any indications that something awaited their arrival on the other side. No sounds. Carlos signaled for the battering crew to lift up a huge iron pipe that his strongest Shadows had suspended from the tunnel ceiling and crashed it through the opening. There was a loud thunk and a clang as the pipe broke through the perforations and the cut steel hit the metal floor on the other side. The steel wall now had a small hole, large enough for the largest of the Shadows to fit through, but small enough to keep the larger and most dangerous cyberts out.

Once inside, Carlos, with another silent signal, sent his point crew to secure the immediate area. They took up positions where there was a passage or a doorway. Once in position and after a visual assessment, they signaled 'clear.' Carlos expected more of a reception. Next, he sent his four best grenade launchers to cover the others, fanning out as much as necessary to cover the territory and be on the constant lookout for cyberts. They were up two floors before they encountered any cyberts at all.

The first room they secured was full of lifeless or inactive cyberts in what appeared to be a cybert assembly room. Logical. Maybe it was too logical? Too easy an assumption to make. _Don't agonize over it,_ Carlos told himself. _Some things can be what they seem_.

Parts of machinery lay all over the tables. Eight or nine Cyberts stood frozen in front of them, striking various poses one might have expected to see in a working factory. Carlos noted that these Cyber seemed to have adopted the same kind of hierarchy as their human creators. Carlos saw a Cyber supervisor monitoring lesser-equipped cyberts who were assembling parts into a whole machine, while other cyberts seemed to have been engaged in specific jobs in the plant, reading notes, running stress tests. _That's odd_ , Carlos thought. _Almost human-like responses. Wouldn't the multi-layered supervision be inefficient for Cyber? What would be the need for supervision if specific-function-based cyberts were running perfectly? What do the supervisors do to contribute to the plant's efficient operation?_

Carlos had trouble believing they had done so well in penetrating the factory without opposition. And, there was something else. Did the massive explosion somehow have the same effect as the wave grenades that had been so useful in disrupting cybert brains? Or was it just the results of the blast reaching outward with disintegrated metal and composite material? A wave blaster operated on the principle that vibration could cause extreme damage by rattling and banging the delicate innards of the braincase against the surrounding hard metal shell, but Cyber hadn't invented the wave blaster.

However, Cyber used the first wave blasters against human adversaries, turning their soft brain tissue to mush as the vibrations had rattled the skull.

Makr could have shut some cyberts down deliberately to minimize the simple danger of the vibration, rather than risk total malfunctions. Then, at any moment, He could unfreeze those that were still undamaged and cause utter chaos at will.

Carlos knew full well that Makr's reach went as far as any complete or slightly damaged Cyber systems. Some parts of a Cyber system could be as simple and basic as the chip implanted in Bios. Any of these cyberts or cybert parts could be observing and sending data to Makr right now!

Wait! These were all factory cyberts! None of the real dangerous ones were here. _Where are the security cyberts—the ones with the weapons?_ He signaled to the others by pointing to his eye, which meant stay alert. The message was passed on down the chain of command until everyone understood it.

Question now was what to do with the four hundred plus Shadows held up behind his advance team?

Unfortunately, the Cyber security force wasn't all he missed.

Elsewhere, from the lower passageways in the building and unaware that Carlos and his crew were nearby **;** Lieutenant Kieran O'Shea proceeded with her part of the mission. She found what she was looking for—a way up that hadn't been too damaged much from the explosion. In fact, it may have inadvertently opened it more. She and the others were amazed that the entire factory hadn't gone up, too. But then again, there was plenty of thick welded steel and dense concrete between the tunnels and the factory.

They would encounter resistance topside. How much was a mystery. So what else was new? Assuming that Carlos' Nest had escaped safely, her team's task now was to secure the perimeter of the factory and keep it that way, if possible, to give Mother-General the time she needed to get a team of guerillas to the Makr mainframe. But first they had to get back Outside and that was a major obstacle in itself. She didn't even have a backup plan. A fall back zone. This was the real deal. A fight to the death. Manufactured metal machines were at war against the people who built them.

The lieutenant moved her people through two floors of empty steel spaces before finding a space that was being used for some purpose; she found exactly the same Cyber assembly room as Carlos had. She was unaware of that point until one of her less graceful men dropped his laser ax with the safety off. She remembered the disaster her accident with the laser ax caused! Maybe now it would be helpful. The laser blade on its highest setting sliced through the room, luckily missing other members of the team. Everyone saw the white hot beam as it sliced through the room without changing a thing. Nothing was damaged. That in itself was puzzling.

Nothing was damaged, but she saw the flutter or flicker of the image. _SensaVision here! Illusion. All of it. We'll see what damage we've really done. Or, it's trap!_ She didn't know if anyone else had come to the same conclusion, but it was her job to give the alarm and the order.

"We've been had! Grenades! Shields!" Shields went up simultaneously as the grenades were launched, and before they went off, all the team members were lying flat on their back under cover of their shields. Kieran was the first one up followed by Sergeant Gray.

"Good job, Sergeant. Now, let's sift through this mess to see what we have."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Oh, Sergeant, be careful. We usually see our enemy."

He nodded grimly in agreement. He was a veteran. He knew the score. Kieran was glad he and his soldiers knew the drill. Gray also knew Makr constantly changed the rules.

She smiled at the irony that another "malfunctioning" laser ax helped her to _see_ her enemy now.

Sergeant Gray sent a four-person team ahead for recon. Those who remained, set to work clearing away the rubble caused by the blast so that the Bio Cyber experts could get at the disabled but intact hardware. Whether they would be able to figure out from the rubble and melted metal just what had been here before was a toss-up.

Gray was betting they wouldn't and wondered what the new lieutenant would do next. He had to admit she knew her stuff. In fact, she seemed to be more on the ball than any other commander he had seen in action—except Captain Jackson, of course. _Jackson didn't use the Cyber experts to figure these things out_ , he thought. _He went himself._

A few minutes later, the experts returned.

"We've never seen anything of this caliber before," said the lead expert, a balding, white-haired Shadow who looked very uncomfortable in his Stealth.

Sergeant Gray was sure this Shadow had never been out of the Nest until now, but listened dutifully as the old man continued, "It's more advanced than any hardware we've ever taken in a fight or scavenged."

"Thank you. I appreciate your efforts." The lieutenant didn't seem too concerned as she spoke to the team. "I thought as much. Here's what I want you to do now. Identify networks, banks, circuits, connectors—anything that might be communicating with Makr's central server information. This is the server we are after. We've always known it was in located in this city, but we didn't have the force to take it out and all the Cyber protectors guarding it. Now we have no choice."

Couldn't this be sub-station or conduit to other servers around the world?" someone asked.

"Sure. It's highly possible this is only a cybert repair facility. It is highly unlikely we stumbled upon Makr's main server; however... If we destroy this place, maybe it will affect the whole in some way. Maybe we can wipe out SensaVision or other communication in the area."

Sergeant Gray leaned against a piece of machinery and mulled it over. "Sounds reasonable to me," he said as he was up and moving, "Everyone listen to me. Blast everything that looks pristine! When it turns into something else, we've cut Makr's eyes! For once we'll see our real enemy is just a piece of equipment."

He wasn't sure of that himself that his orders would make any difference, but his men were depressed, scared and frustrated and needed something. So, he made it up, taking the lieutenant's lead.

"Good enough. Then let's disrupt Makr's chief means of communication and sever those damn connections." As the Cyber experts set out to carry out her orders, she saw Sergeant Gray watching, obviously still evaluating her. "Got me figured out yet, Sergeant?"

"Ma'am?"

"Enough with the 'ma'am' crap. Call me Lieutenant or Kieran. Either one is fine with me. Look, Greg—Captain Jackson is—or was—my friend, a close friend. I miss him, too. I hope that he's managed to survive all of this. My job, my responsibility and yours, Sergeant Gray, is to help make sure the human race survives. I know that's a monumental task—maybe even impossible, but have you got anything better to do? I know it takes time to establish a soldier's kind of trust. I wish we had the time. Don't hesitate when I give an order because it doesn't make sense to you. It could get you killed. Clear?"

"Yes, ma'am...er...Lieutenant."

"Good." She said smiling. "Get a couple of laser axes to those Cyber experts and help them sever the connections permanently."

Sergeant Gray had a new opinion of the lieutenant. Maybe it was not so much time as it was experience with a new commander... He decided he would not be thinking much along these lines again. The lieutenant was right. There was no time.

.

Carlos didn't hear the grenade blast but he saw a flicker, instead, and suddenly there seemed to be a clear passageway opening to the outside, but was it a real exist—or another trap? He sent all but about twenty volunteer Shadows on ahead. _If this is a Makr trap, we're the target, not the others_ , he figured. _Once outside, they'll be all right if they stick to the Shadows and follow orders._ Better yet, the four hundred Shadows could create enough chaos and confusion even if all they did was just split up and randomly walk anywhere at all. Unfortunately, most would be too scared to do that. _I'm such a pessimist_ , he thought.

"Drop charges. Ten minute timer," he announced. "Everyone out, now!"

The Shadows raced down separate hallways away from the blast. But it was really a ten second timer, not a 10 minute one. Not enough time to adapt and disarm these charges—especially if the cyberts thought they had ten minutes.

Makr had to be hiding something of interest, thought Carlos. _We'll see about that._ Around the steel-reinforced corner down the hallway Carlos and half of his volunteers waited, ears covered and eyes shielded. The other half had gone the other way. The explosion rocked them a little less than hundred yards away—even with the steel and lead shielding in the walls surrounding the assembly room.

_Now, we'll see what it really is_ , Carlos thought. He signaled for the leads to check the area and to look for anything that looked like it didn't belong here—like cyberts that moved.

"Think that was enough explosives, Carlos?" asked his lead Cyber expert, an attractive, red-headed female in her early twenties.

"Going all the way aren't we? We don't need the analysis. Not time enough to do anything about it anyway."

"There's nothing but molten slag here now."

"Just use your ax and probe where it looks the most harmless. I have a feeling things are not what they seem—not even now."

"How do we fight an enemy we can't see?"

"Well, you don't stand around and announce you haven't a clue. Do it! Now!"

"Yessir. Yes, Captain." She hurried off to do the appointed task.

_How could we have been so stupid not to think Makr would hide behind SensaVision?_ Carlos chided himself. _A ten minute talk with Harry or Marlene could have told us what Makr is capable of. I should've been listening. No excuses. I should have been listening all along._

"Everything is as it appears, Carlos. We did as you ordered. We probed and probed. We melted one very big piece of hardware, but it doesn't look like it's used for communication."

"No, you're wrong. Everything in Makr's shadow is about connections. Even that destroyed hardware could still be His doing. How big a piece of hardware?"

"It's just a guess, but it looks like over half the room, but in reality, a city block, maybe more. A single chip in the brain is a computer. That huge slab of molten metal you see is part of the illusion to make us see what we wanted to see: a safe way out."

Of course, Carlos was guessing. He wasn't sure of anything, but he wanted to keep his people strong. Recon had been a total disaster. Outside, the whole world flickered changing millions of images. His men returned disappointed.

"Any flickers at all?"

"I don't know what you mean?"

"Image flickers. Does this rubble look exactly as it did ten minutes ago? Still look the same? Exactly the same?"

The reconnaissance team looked around, shrugged and shook their heads as he expected. Nothing.

Look harder, Carlos. Look harder. That explosion had to make a difference. It had to!

"We don't see any change, Carlos. Sorry."

_How does Harry do it? How does he see through the illusion?_ Carlos wondered. For a minute he tried to imagine himself as Harry. _Try to think like Harry._ Nothing! He paused to take a breath, quickly shifted his eyes. He saw something—actually, a lack of something; but whatever it was he did not see, he did see the end or the beginning of an image with a hint of reality coming through. _The illusion has to be personal to each man somehow. That's what Makr does, that's how SensaVision works. It works on individuals! It moves when they do. Does this mean that Makr is weakening? Or is that just how the illusions transpire?_ There was only one way to find out. He had to get Harry.

"Captain Montoya! Carlos! Where are you? Help us please! If you can hear me, please help us!" It was Kieran. It was her voice, anyway. She was pleading for help.

She was either in big trouble or this was an illusion, too.

Carlos was quick to poll the others. "Anyone else hear Lieutenant O'Shea?"

A couple voices chimed in.

"Yeah, sure. We're hearing it. I can take some men..." It was Carlos' top sergeant.

"Yes, of course. Where is she?" said one of the Cyber experts he didn't know very well. So he turned to his top sergeant.

"Tell me what she said exactly," Carlos ordered, raising his voice so he could be heard by all.

"Why..." the sergeant started to question the captain. As the top sergeant, he often got away with a little insubordination—up to a point.

"Just tell me exactly," Carlos demanded.

"All right. She said, 'Captain Montoya, Sergeant Johnson help us. Where are you? We need you.' I think that's pretty accurate."

He looked over at the Cyber expert who shrugged.

"I heard something a little different," he said. "Then again, I didn't know the lieutenant very well. I was just re-assigned here last week."

"It's not what I heard either," Carlos said. "One last question, Johnson: Ever hear Lieutenant O'Shea ask for anyone's help at any time?"

"Can't say as I have."

"Sergeant, get the word out to everyone here. 'Ignore the voices; it's a trap. If you see Lieutenant O'Shea, ask her to surrender.' If it's Kieran, she will." I hope. "If she believes you're who you say you are."

"What if she thinks the same as us...that we're a trick, too?"

"Got a better idea, Sergeant?" _I know this was lame_ , he thought, _but surely they could see he was helpless here._

"No, Sir, I don't."

"Good. Then do as I...I ask, okay?"

The sergeant nodded and went to pass the word: _Lady, don't even show your face here,_ he thought to himself. _I may not know what to do. Damn, I have my orders, and I still don't know._

# CHAPTER FORTY-NINE

_"War does not determine who is right - only who is left."_ **\- Bertrand Russell**

"Hey, Johnson!" He flinched. It was Recon. Or was it?

_Everything spooks me now,_ Johnson thought. _They can't be around every corner_.

"Yeah, what?" Sergeant Johnson kept his distance, suspiciously eyeing the other man who a minute ago had been one of his most trustworthy men.

"Would you come with me for a minute? I need to show you something." He started to come toward the sergeant.

Johnson lifted his laser ax. "Stay where you are. Tell me, McNeil, did you hear from Lieutenant O'Shea?" Makr would try to reinforce the illusion, right?

"No. Of course not. I haven't seen her in days. You?"

"Never mind," he said, rubbing his head. "Okay, show me what ya gotta show me."

On their way out, Johnson paused to tell the captain he'd be right back. Carlos nodded and waved him on.

"What's going on, McNeil?"

"You gotta see this for yourself."

Silently, McNeil led the sergeant to where they had separated from the main group. Nothing had changed in the last two minutes. All four hundred or so Shadows, without Stealth, were dancing in the street, oblivious to the all-out war taking place around them. It was moonlight, music and candlelight. Everyone seemed to be having the time of their lives.

"What the...?" Sergeant Johnson's jaw dropped .He had never seen such a thing. "Where did the swimming pool come from?"

"What swimming pool?"

"You mean, you don't see a swimming pool or a pool party?"

"No. No, dancing."

"What kind?"

"I dunno. Formal. Everybody's formal."

"Kid, glad you came to fetch me. Now let's tell the captain. I don't think he's going to like this."

As the two walked back quickly to make their report, Captain Montoya passed by them on the right.

"Captain?" Johnson tried to grab his sleeve. Then he felt the Stealth fabric, but the captain didn't stop. There was a flicker.

"Captain, stop or I'll disintegrate you. If you're really the captain..."

He didn't finish the sentence. Instead he fired his laser. The captain had disappeared. In his place, a giant spider-like cybert rose up to the 20-foot ceiling. Mostly head, taking up over half of the mass, it had two upper appendages about eight feet long that looked like sharp and deadly titanium swords rather than arms, and six spindly insect-like legs with joints bending to the rear. Its front 'arms' nearly touched the floor. Even standing well over 15 feet tall, its body seemed designed to cover the ground quickly outside, although not inside a factory. It looked a little cramped in the factory space, but lethal just the same.

Johnson and McNeil stood facing the creature, mesmerized by its eyes. They looked like thousands of human eyes covered with a clear arachnid protective shell. Both Johnson and McNeil heard the same voice.

"Ya shouldn't have done that, boys," the voice said.

"That voice," McNeil muttered, "I know that voice!"

"Me, too. Sounds like Leach."

"No, it can't be, he's dead!"

"Only my body, Johnson. The mind and spirit's still kicking."

It was Leach all right--before he had lost his tongue. They would know that crude voice anywhere. _So that's what happened to the scumbag_ , Johnson thought.

"Thought I was dead, didn't you? Know the body ain't much to look at, but it's plenty strong. Ten times as strong? More like a hundred times as strong. What do I need a soft human body for when I can have the best of both worlds? In my mind I'm a hundred times more man. That's all that matters, ain't it? Sensa-fuckin-Vision! I git all the pleasure I c'n handle, boys. How 'bout you boys?"

"What are you doing, Leach?"

"Surviving. Ain't that what we all do?"

Neither man knew what to do, facing this Goliath. McNeil froze with his mouth open. Johnson made a decision. He fired at the cybert's head, Leach or no Leach. The cybert skin wasn't even scratched.

He heard Leach's diabolical laugh. He hardly sounded human anymore, Johnson thought. He fired again and again to no effect. He saw the others coming to his rescue.

"Back! Stay back," he screamed, but it was too late. Goliath, the mechanical giant, raised a spindly leg, which split open like a scissors and caught Johnson at the waist as he tried to escape. With a sickening crunch, in a fraction of a second, Johnson was in two bloody parts.

McNeil stood frozen and alone against Leach as everyone else stayed back.

"I don't want you," the voice of Leach said. "I'm here for Carlos.

"Carlos ain't here."

"Where is he?" Goliath demanded and extended his right appendage until it resembled a whip in length and flexibility. He snapped it four or five times at McNeil who kept moving backward with each individual snap, his eyes glued upon the giant cybert until he tripped over his own feet and fell.

"He's dead. Killed in the big explosion," he lied. "Ask them."

"Don't worry, I will."

"Carlos is not dead, is he?" The rescuers were too afraid to move; he had a captive audience. He thundered, "He's not dead, is he?!!"

A brave soul in the rescue group fired his laser ax at the steely behemoth, but the beam glanced off the cybert's frame. The whip snapped out and decapitated the man before he could scream.

"No," McNeil finally answered truthfully. He was beaten. There was no place to run. _Maybe if I let him have me he'll go away and leave the others with their lives_ , he thought. "Carlos is not dead, but he's not here either," he said aloud.

"Foolishly, your captain's gone. There's no one to save you from the likes of me."

"We've always been saving ourselves from the likes of you." The Goliath turned to see the once-devout Reverend Parks, now a soldier, standing defiantly in front of him.

"Everyone else around here is sweating bullets. Why aren't you afraid of me?"

"I don't know exactly. We should fear that we might become you. If you're an example of the Symbiosis, I'll gladly take death."

"You should fear me. I can kill you."

"We die every day."

"Painfully."

"Some do, yes. If we haven't the courage."

"Have you courage enough to watch your comrades die?" With that, he snapped his whip again, this time around McNeil's neck, decapitating him...

He didn't stop there.

.

Carlos had no way of knowing what was happen to the Shadows he sent reconnoitering, but he had had enough waiting for their return. He had to do so something! Meanwhile, he had one last hope.

Leaving his most senior sergeant in charge, he made his way back the way they came in.

"Carlos! Where are you going?" Marlene grabbed him as she saw him heading back for the Nest, shocked that he was abandoning them.

"Someone has to get Harry and Mother-General. I'll be right back

He was already half way there. Everyone has a job to do. I'll be just a few minutes."

"Really?"

"Do you think I'd leave you all here to die?"

"I don't know you very well, but I'd say it was unlikely. Take me with you!"

"No!"

"Why? I have no job. Along for the ride, remember?"

"You don't know, do you?" There wasn't time for this.

"Know what?"

"There's no time to explain. We need Harry."

"I can help."

"I can't...take you with me."

"What do you want Harry to do? He's hurt."

"I know that. I don't know what exactly, but I think he knows more about this world we've invaded than any of us. You know about this world, too; he senses it."

"He can see reality."

"You know that for sure? Right down to the awful truth?" He had only suspected it. Harry never really said, Carlos thought, but it is as if he knows things instinctively.

"He thought-blinks. He can see through the illusion sometimes."

"I thought someone else told him about us. I thought he was a spy."

"I want to see Harry. I need to know he's all right. Take me with you."

"I can't take you. I promised to keep you safe."

"Keep me safe? Who? Harry?"

"No, your mother, my mother, Harry's mother."

"Now you aren't making sense at all."

"It's true, not that it matters now, but when you were very young you were abandoned by our mother. You were raised in a State home, right?"

"Why are you telling me this?"

"Believe it or not, she was trying to keep you safe by keeping you on the Inside, when she was involved in starting this revolution almost thirty years ago. Harry, too. We messed up her plans in a way."

"I don't believe this. You're telling me this outrageous story so I won't insist on going with you. Mother-General's my mother? Harry's my brother? And, I suppose, that makes me your sister as well?"

"Half."

"Half?"

"Half-sister. Don't ask."

"Well, forget it! I don't know what's going on here, but Harry's saved my life more than once. I can't bear to let him rot or worse in the Nest. I need to be there. If you won't take me, I'll go alone."

"Okay. Okay, I'll take you, but you tell Mother-General you insisted. Just for the record: I've had it up to here with strong women."

"Yeah, sure." She wondered.

"Let's go, then."

"Good."

"Okay." He was silent as he retrieved a second laser ax buried in his Stealth cloak and, with safety on, tossed it to her. "Jana."

"What?"

"Your real name is Jana."

# CHAPTER FIFTY

_"He is the Napoleon of crime, Watson. He is the organizer of half that is evil and of nearly all that is undetected in this great city. He is a genius, a philosopher, an abstract thinker. He has a brain of the first order. He sits motionless, like a spider in the center of its web, but that web has a thousand radiations, and he knows well every quiver of each of them."_ **\- Sir Arthur Conan Doyle** _, The Final Problem_

"Mother, it's really you?" She heard the voice in her head. "I've seen you before in dreams. I couldn't really remember you, but I knew."

The motionless body in the gel was one of her sons. Perhaps, in aid of the prophecy of the Messiah, the gelatin had found the Harry's natural center of gravity and the result was that the arms stretched out like wings and there was a downward slope of the lower body. His body was submerged just below the glassy surface. Not a ripple in the gel, and not a hint of consciousness, yet she heard him speak. What she thought she heard sounded to her as if he was standing beside her. She knelt down by the oversized coffin-like cell and spoke to him excitedly, but tenderly.

"Harry, darling, yes, it's me after all these years." Her heart was about to burst it was so full of happiness. She hadn't lost him after all! Then she had to ask herself an important question: _Am I imagining this_?

"I understand, Mother, why you did what you did."

"You do?"

"Yes. It's all right."

"How?"

"I am remembering everything I ever wanted to remember. Dad loved you, Mother. He did. Always. Even after you left."

"I loved him, too."

"I don't want you to worry about me. I'll be fine."

"When you're strong enough to get out of there, we'll all be together—even if we have to hide deep in the shadows."

"I won't be able to be with you in the shadows, Mother, but I will be with you. Everything will be all right when Makr comes."

"What? I don't understand." The look of dread in her eyes...

"I can't survive out of this gel. It is Makr who is keeping me alive."

Sobbing... _It can't be over..._

"It's not over. My essence is stimulated in this gel. It's not over, Mother. This is who I am now, and who I will be as long as I am in the gel. This is the beginning."

"Can I stay with you, son?"

"For a while. Makr will come for me soon, and when he does, he may not understand why you have kept me from him."

"I don't understand." She felt entirely helpless for the first time in her life. Only one other time had she felt quite so lost. When she had taken Harry and little Jana and...

"Please, Mother, don't be sad. I am fine, really. I've never been more at peace."

There was happiness in his voice.

"Trust me. This is what I am meant to do."

Did she hear a slight giggle? She wasn't using words at all now. The two were communicating directly through the gel. Her hand had slipped inside the gel. It was pleasant, soothing. Warm. Loving.

"Don't worry, Harry. I'm fine, too."

"You found Jana?"

"She's with Carlos."

"Good, then she's safe."

"You know Carlos is..."

"My brother. Yes. And Marlene is Jana. I don't think she'll like that."

"Oh, don't be too sure, Harry."

Lost in the moment or held there by a spell in the gel, time stopped. Lara didn't hear the laser ax slicing an opening through the wall beside the door that had been welded shut. The wall was actually thinner gauge steel than the door. She did hear human voices coming through—especially Carlos?

"Mother, please, you must come with me now. It's not safe," Carlos said gently. He still hadn't managed to cut through completely yet, but to his mother, it was enough they were all there together.

Startled by the reality of emotion for the moment, Mother-General's eyes glistened with happiness.

"Is everyone safe in the shadows?" she asked.

"Jana and I came back to get you and Harry out of here." There was a little more to it, but it can wait, he thought.

"Harry's not going anywhere, and neither am I." She had an odd smile on her face.

At that moment, Carlos had opened enough to allow them to squeeze through.

"Mother, you must let me talk with my brother and sister." It was Harry's voice. "They must know the truth."

"What's going on, Mother?" Carlos asked?

"Something quite wonderful, Carlos. You'll see. Put your hand in the gel." Carlos was staring in disbelief. "Is that all right, dear?" she asked Harry.

_Yes, and Jana's, too._ She knew Harry meant that.

"Can he hear us in there?"

"He doesn't have to. Put your hand in the gel and you won't have to speak aloud either." Carlos stood back, skeptical. Marlene came forward and put her hand in the gel.

"Hello, Harry."

_"_ Marlene? Jana? How shall I call you?"

"Marlene. I don't even remember being Jana. Besides, I've been too many people."

"Dar?"

"Yes."

"See? You answer to them all. I'm glad you're all right."

Carlos watched in amazement. Tears ran down Marlene's face. He didn't know if they were tears of joy or sadness. _What did he say to her?_ He wondered. _Mother has a strange contented look on her face._ He had never seen her look so happy. Then, why was he nervous—even a little frightened about what was happening?

"Carlos, you have to do this," Marlene said. "He wants to talk to you."

"This isn't talking."

"It's better."

"No, I can't."

"Yes, you can." The voice was coming from all around him. "I can talk to you without it, but it would be more private if you would just touch the gel. Carlos, my brother, my friend, I know why you have come back."

Mother looked at Carlos askance. "You think you need me to tell what is real and what is not."

"How do you know that?"

"It is a logical assumption since I can see through SensaVision and you can't. Besides Makr is fully aware of what is happening. He's weakening, but you cannot kill Him no matter how hard you try. Makr's not the real problem."

"How do you know so much? You've been there."

"Makr has spoken to me here from time to time. He uses the gel; it's full of nanotechnology."

"Nano-what?"

"Tiny cyberts...

"Cyberts?"

"...operating at a cellular-level to manipulate our antibodies and cells to heal quickly."

That's how it heals. It also communicates.

"But why would He help us?"

"I don't know all the particulars yet. He is concerned the entire planet will be lost if this fractured Bio revolution continues, although He is impressed with the Shadow, Touchable and Evangel co-operation. He cannot survive without Bios any more than we Bios can survive without Cyber."

"Then why has He forced our hand?"

"That's exactly what he did."

"Why must we do battle with the Cyber at all?" Carlos' angry fire was raging, but he was holding much back.

"We Bios have grown lazy and afraid. But look at us now. Amazing. Hardly lazy and I doubt you are very much afraid. Relatively speaking that is. Makr needs us to take back our world and control it. The bio cyberlinks alone aren't enough to give Makr the data He needs to reconcile the world's problems with creativity. Makr can _make_ , but He can't _create_ ; not in the same way Bios can—that's Bio function, one that is urgently needed.

"I don't understand. Do you mean to tell me that Makr has been in control all these years—even in the shadows? Then all this is for nothing?"

"In some respects, yes. Of course, His control is limited, but not much. Not for nothing, Carlos. Our history before Makr is rich with accounts of atrocities that have provoked a peaceful people to fight back and even win in the end. He provoked you until you fought back. He provoked us all."

"Which is what He wanted all along."

"What better way is there to encourage leadership and innovation? You and others have succeeded Carlos. You brought out the leadership qualities and inspired the dedication and organization necessary to run this planet again. Fifty years ago, it would have never happened."

"But you?"

"I've always known there was something very different about me, but I didn't know what. I am fully aware now. I remember everything that has ever happened to me—even while I was in the womb—although I don't know how that information could be useful. I am a plant—a Makr spy as you thought at first, although I never knew it until now. And, believe it or not, not the kind of spy you might imagine. In order to provoke us, He needed to know what would frighten us, what would make fighters out of us. In spite of all His advancements, Makr still can't figure us out. He is interested in Bio development where He does not exist. Makr knew I had been saved from the control chip, so He merely had me brought in and gave me a newer model, a more advanced design that would allow me to see the real world. Some of my memories he withheld until the time was right."

"People have died. Millions of them died Outside alone."

"The casualties served their purpose. Some had to die to bring out the best—the strongest, the smartest, the most creative, and most adaptive Bios. We have to build a new world. We need those who can start fresh. Maybe even those who have no past to remember when Bios ruled."

"Why didn't He just stop controlling everyone?"

"Easy. Most Bios, especially those on the Inside, couldn't accept the change and couldn't survive with it. They had become too dependent on Makr for everything. They didn't have enough confidence in themselves to survive. You proved you didn't need Him repeatedly, but you know there are many on the Inside who have never left the inside of their dwellings. Makr could have made it so no one had to leave their abodes, but he left room for us to discover on our own. Otherwise, we'd be as helpless as those who chose to never leave."

"This is too incredible. Why should I believe you?"

"Have you any better answers?"

"No I don't, but I do have a question. How many are going to die before we have a solution?"

"I can't answer that."

"I don't have time for this shit!"

"Patience, Carlos."

"My people are dying up above. Will you come with me? Help me make some sense of all this."

"Please, Carlos, place your hand in the gel so you may understand."

Carlos did as he was told this time, but his hand remained there only for a second before he had to pull it out quickly when he heard movement outside the steel walls.

Too late! Cyber! Just outside the steel wall on the other side of Harry. The _y_ were in the tunnel. _At least they'd have to cut their own door_ _in the opposite wall, from the factory side,_ Carlos thought _._ The cyberts were using several lasers at a same time and making short work of it. They'd be through in seconds.

_We can run,_ Carlos thought. _Out the way we came in. Make good time through the maze of the factory. Harry will be just another "casualty of war" to use his phrase. What if that's the truth? Or, has that gel affected his brain? Another Makr trap._

"Carlos!" Mother heard the sounds of lasers burning through the steel of the healing room. It wouldn't be long now. The healing room's days were numbered in minutes.

# CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE

" _Nobody knows the age of the human race, but everybody agrees that it is old enough to know better."_ **\- Anonymous**

From the hover-car high above, the city looked relatively untouched. The two comrades flying above wreaking as much havoc as possible were showing no gains for their efforts. They each wore the look of defeat.

"It should look like a battlefield. Why doesn't it look like a battlefield, Winston?"

"How should I know? Makr doesn't want it to look like a battlefield? Maybe SensaVision is hiding the damage from the Shadow soldiers."

"You may have something there. After all we've done, how can Makr still be doing that? Surely the others must be making some headway. All the explosions, destruction, diversions, confusions, misinformation, none of it seems to be doing any good."

"If this city continues to look the same, the battle is lost." Greg Jackson, for the first time, seemed ready to quit.

"Maybe it's only this city. Maybe the others are having success elsewhere. We are one group in millions. Surely others will have fared better."

"We strike at the heart of Makr. This is where the most Shadows have died in the fight. This is the only place where Makr can be defeated. I know it. He's won. If we can't see where we've wounded the enemy, how can we finish him?"

"Maybe we can't."

"He's won, then, hasn't He? How can we see Him? How can we..."

Greg was thinking out loud, but Winston offered an answer anyway. "He is everywhere where things seem rosiest."

"So how do we know he's hurt? Hey, wait a minute. What did you just say?"

"Nothing important."

"Let me be the judge of that. What did you say?"

"Nothing really. I just said Makr is where the city looks the best—something like that."

"Rosiest. You said 'rosiest'."

"Yeah, so?"

"Where this city looks the best—the cleanest, most pleasant, has the most beautiful scenery, artwork—that's where Makr has concentrated his hardware—and created the illusions of places we wouldn't touch. Human sentimentality and all that."

Winston was delighted to see Greg's passion was back. "Does this mean we're still in the fight?"

"I say let's take inventory and go to work," he said, slapping Winston on the back.

The friendly blow knocked Winston forward, causing him to hit the hovercar's controls. As the floating vehicle lurched downward, Winston could see, people, lots of them. They appeared to be wandering around aimlessly.

"I hate to tell you that your plan may be flawed," he told Greg.

"Not my plan, buddy. 'Our' plan."

"Okay, 'our' plan, then. Look down there."

"People, so what? One of Makr's tricks."

"I don't think so."

"Go on."

"Well, when Makr creates an illusion, it's perfect. We understand totally what's happening because the illusion is complete. What are they doing down there?" He pointed to the crowd he saw below.

"I don't know. Walking around?"

"Why?"

"I see what you mean. Those people are real. But they're responding to Makr's illusion and we aren't!"

"There's the glitch. Makr has created illusions to hide all evidence of His work, but here He's not made it as perfect as it should be. My guess is Makr's damaged."

"The big explosion?"

"I don't know. Maybe."

"Whatever caused it doesn't matter. What does matter is our next target. And, Winston, you did it! You found it for us." He went to slap Winston hard on the back again, but Winston pulled back. Instead, he grinned, "Thanks."

# CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO

_Everything can be taken from a man but the last of human freedoms, the right to choose one's attitude in any given set of circumstances—the right to choose one's own way."_ **\- Dr.Viktor Frankl** _(1905-97), Austrian-born Professor of Neurology and Psychiatry; Holocaust survivor._

"We're no better off than when we started," Sergeant Gray commented. Lieutenant O'Shea's group, like Carlos', was in the factory, but trapped by illusion—trapped by what they couldn't determine to be real.

"That sounds positive, Gray. Want to spread the word to the rest of the group that what we're doing here is for nothing?"

"Sorry, Lieutenant. But answer me this: 'How can we fight an enemy we can't see?'"

"We can't. I agree with you to a point. We have never been able to see our true enemy. We've fought cyberts, but not Makr. Until now we've only annoyed the main Cyber bastard."

"So, what do we do, quit and find some other place to hide?"

"You don't strike me as someone who'd run and hide from anything."

"How could we be so stupid to think we could beat an enemy that can change our reality?"

"We thought we could stop Makr's power of illusion in our early salvos. Now that I think of it, the idea sounds rather ludicrous. Makr is the most evolved sentient being to ever 'walk the earth' so to speak, and we think a few explosions are going to do Him in?"

"That still doesn't answer my question. How...?"

That was it! She met his challenge head on, but whispered it through clenched teeth close to his face so he could feel the uncomfortable intimacy.

"We push and we keep pushing ahead. We have to...we have no choice." Her voice was tight and harsh.

He didn't back down. "Yes, I know that, but..."

"Shut up, Gray. Shut up and think. I need your help here. I can't think for everyone. I might be wrong. Let's work together on this problem, okay?"

"Yes, ma'am."

At that response, she gave him a disapproving look, then a smile.

"I'll do my best, Lieutenant," he promised.

Kieran looked around at the others. They were tired and scared, and tired of feeling trapped. Soon they'd be at each other. _Won't take long for total chaos to ensue. We haven't gotten very far; can't even get out of the damn building! What is beyond those walls of steel?_

Then she saw the all-important flicker.

A flicker. Another flicker. Flash. The room had changed. She found herself in a laboratory alone—at least for the moment. Where were her soldiers? Then, as in a dream, she forgot about them completely... All she knew was the here and now of here and now. There was no battle, no war. All she knew is that she was compelled to go.

The lab smelled of formaldehyde and other chemicals. She observed various laboratory paraphernalia, numerous tubes, flasks, and other receptacles, and clear containers of various sizes containing biological materials suspended in a colorless liquid. Human parts in the larger containers, she concluded. _Clone storage?_

The lab's intense lights and the room's bright white walls and floors hurt her eyes, while the stainless steel sinks and apparatus left her feeling cold. Cold.

_Have to keep moving_ , she thought. _A door. A way out? Or a way in? To where?_ As she crossed the threshold, the scene in front of her changed. What was strange was that she had seen it change. Why would Makr want to tell her it was illusion? Then she saw something she had never wanted to see.

Clones. Rows of entire cloned bodies, thousands of them, suspended in amber hexagon-shaped vessels, lined a huge hall.

At first glance, the sight of the images in these containers made her recoil, but it was too much a mystery to solve, too much a challenge so she fought her fear. She had never turned down any challenge—even those made by very strong Shadows—so why should this be any different?

No longer white with fear, no longer emotionally cold, she was determined to see this to the end for two more obvious reasons. One, there was no immediate escape she could figure out, and two; she sensed there was a message here for her. Once that message was presented, she'd return to where she was previously. But where was she? She forced herself to walk through row after row, seeing full grown human bodies, some still children or adolescents looking more like fetuses in artificial amber wombs. Not all were complete. Some had parts missing. Apparently, the DNA owners had lost parts they had been born with, just as she had done with her eyes.

Each step she took became more and more tentative. Her heart pounded with fearful anticipation. From her pores, rivulets of moisture ran the length of her body.

_They aren't sentient. The clones were not aware_ , she told herself. They were held in stasis until needed for transplant. Then, it occurred to her...

These were _Shadow_ clones. Not _Insider_. Insider clones are not specialized or individualized like Shadow clones, instead, they had generic application, universal acceptance. Shadow clones are specialized to make any replaced parts at least as good, often better in some ways, than before.

What had she stepped into? This was Makr's illusion! The locations of Shadow clones were one of her people's most closely-guarded secrets. But _Makr knows? Makr knows! Is Makr telling her nothing has been a secret? Nothing? But why? And why now?_

She kept moving. Flash. Flicker. Scene changed. Still in a Bio cloning lab, she walked onward with courage. Had she seen the worst? Probably not, she answered herself. Be prepared, she told herself, but nothing could have prepared her for what she saw next.

Isolation cells. Had to be. Receptacles large enough for a Bio to be totally submerged. Different than cloning cells. By their very purpose, more sinister. She had only heard of them. Not many Shadows she knew had actually shared their experience with others. Most of the time if they recalled anything, it was minimal. Enough to let them know they had been reconditioned.

_What are the isolation cells doing next to a cloning facility?_ She wondered. There were hundreds of them now—rows upon rows as far as she could see.

Where was this place? What purpose did it serve? So much for an answer. She had more questions and so she kept moving, frequently looking in the vats or cells to see if they were occupied. Many were. Blank faces behind the bluish green gel. _Why blank faces? Who are these people? What had they done to cause Makr to recondition them?_ Now she was getting nervous. Was she about to be re-conditioned?

She walked faster and faster even though she knows it wouldn't make any difference. If Makr wanted her here, she'd be here. She was running. The images flashed by her. She was moving, but going nowhere. As she moved faster, the door in front of her stayed just out of reach. Exhausted and frustrated, she slowed and stopped, bending and taking deep breaths.

As she stood, she witnesses yet another laboratory scene. Similar to the first one, except this included metal parts lying side-by-side with Bio appendages and other body parts suspended in some kind of green liquid. _Symbiosis? Is this what Makr intends? This?_ Her head started swimming and she was suddenly very nauseous. Using a table as a brace, she leaned over and vomited, her body jerking violently, trying to resist the involuntary convulsion. As the disgusting mess hit the floor, its color changed to match it, then dissolved, and was absorbed into it. Why was her reaction, her vomit, part of the illusion as well?

She pulled herself together mentally and continued the journey. This time the doorway co-operated and stayed put. Upon reaching it, she turned back quickly to see only a white background—no illusion.

She opened the door, gasped for breath and fainted. Later, she couldn't remember what had made her black out. As she lay on her back, she looked up to see the amber vessel hanging above her. She could make out a human figure, a woman's figure. She pulled herself up to get a better look. It was her! Without eyes! This wasn't her clone, though! This looked like it had been alive once. But now, flesh, bones, organs and blood were imprisoned in a tube, a huge cylindrical test tube. Everything, except the giant test tube, grew dim, then completely dark. The test tube hung in mid-air with an eerie glow for a moment, then faded like a ghost slowly into the darkness.

"Lieutenant, are you all right?" She heard a voice. _Who? What?_ She awoke to a groggy reality. "Lieutenant O'Shea, wake up." The voice, a male voice, was gentler now as if trying to awaken a baby without making it cry. "Wake up, Kieran. Wake up." It was Sergeant Gray.

She was back. She sat up fast, almost too fast. She remembered the experience totally, which surprised her, but maybe it would be useful.

"I'm okay, Sergeant. How long?"

"A couple of minutes. You sure you're okay?"

"Yeah, I'm sure. I think Makr was trying to tell me something. I wish I knew what."

# CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE

_"_ _The measure of a man is the way he bears up under misfortune."_ **\- Mestrius Plutarc** h _(45-120 AD), a Greek historian, biographer, and essayist._

Winston guided the hovercar down for a better view. The plan was to set off charges around the crowd of people, being careful not to hurt them in the process. It would still be guesswork. Hopefully, the charges would disable SensaVision program generators in the immediate area, freeing the Bios from the illusory chains. Makr would have to find another way to keep them at bay—and that might take some adaptation time.

As the hovercar floated downward, it nearly collided with a flock of birds, rising to meet it. But as the "birds" flew away in formation, it was easy to see that they weren't birds at all. As the flock flew higher in perfect circles to meet the vehicle, it lost its SensaVision camouflage, revealing its true Cyber nature. Like the bees in at least one respect, they were artificial. These artificial birds also came equipped with stingers.

"Greg, we've got company up here."

Greg looked up from setting the timer on the charges." What the...?"

"What do you make of it?"

"I don't think the same trick we used on the 'bees' is going to work here."

"Thank you for that," said Winston, remembering how he had felt the last time they had evaded a flying enemy.

Greg just looked at him, trying to figure out what he meant.

"It's the falling I don't like," Winston said." You think these are adaptations from the 'bees?'"

"I'd bet on it."

"Improvements."

"What else? Thinking what I'm thinking? Shit! Let's get out of here fast. Aim for the sun. We'll see how good their receptors are. With any luck they won't be able to see very well."

Winston pointed the hovercar at the sun and slammed the throttle all the way forward. Greg kept an eye on the 'birds.' They fell back behind the hovercar.

Winston saw it, too. "Did we lose them?"

"I don't know."

They continued on their flight toward the sun until the glare and heat were almost too much to bear. Without SensaVision operating inside the vehicle, it grew cold quickly from the upper atmosphere, but became incredibly hot as they caught the sun's radiant heat rays in the cockpit.

"We need to go down. I don't know how many more of these fancy maneuvers this car can take."

"I don't see any 'birds.' Maybe we lost them. Take it down, slowly, and be alert," Greg said." There's probably another battery of lasers waiting for us."

"Will do," acknowledged Winston. "Heading back to target?"

Greg nodded.

Zip! Zip! Ziiiiip!

"Lasers! Where?" Greg was scanning the ground below for flashes. Nothing. "I don't see them, do you?"

Zip! Zip!

"Ow." There was pencil-sized hole in the fleshy part of Winston's upper left arm. He winced in pain. _Damn! Burns_ , he thought. _Self-cauterizing wound. No blood. Why me all the time?_ He discovered the source.

"The birds are behind us and they've got lasers!" he announced.

"If those lasers hit the wrong thing in here..."

"You mean us!"

"No, I mean 'kaboom!' Get us on the ground, now!"

"Oh, shit! Not again!" Winston started rocking the hovercar and moving it quickly side to side, up and down, in an effort to lose his tail. No good.

"You know," he said. "I don't think the same trick we pulled on the bees will work a second time."

"You said that already!"

"Guess I did."

"Forget about it. I agree. I have an idea. So far the birds have been able to inflict minor damage with their tiny lasers. Can you get us low enough and close to our target?"

"I can do that, but what about our company?"

"We're going to throw some explosions at them."

"You mean open the hatch?"

"No, I mean, blow the hatch."

"But that will eject us at the same time..." Winston stared incredulously at his partner and then smiled devilishly. "Oh, I get it. We're all going down for the ride. Okay, let's go."

This time Winston pushed the throttle forward and aimed the hovercar at the middle of the main target. Greg reached under the seat and pulled out two parachutes, one of which was a mass of holes.

"Winston, put this on."

"Are you kidding me? It's garbage. Look at the holes."

"I know. We've got one good one. We'll do this tandem."

"Well, if it's the only way..."

"We're not going to have any protection once we lose the hatch, so this is a one shot deal." Greg studied Winston as if waiting for his approval.

"We don't have any choice," he answered. "If the blast doesn't kill us, the birds will. Might as well do some good."

"Spoken like a true hero. Truly glad to get to know you, Winston." He stuck out his hand. Winston took it.

"Same here. Wish I could be here to see how all this turns out. Oh well, Makr never did like me very much."

Greg put all his charges except two in a bag made of Stealth fabric. It wasn't actually a Stealth kind of mission. _No way that they won't see us coming,_ he thought. The remaining charges he would use as timers. He set them on a three-second fuse.

Winston, looking over his shoulder at the preparations, noted the time set.

"Cutting it kinda close, you think?"

"We aren't going to have time for the Cyber birds to wait for it."

Winston nodded, knowing full well what it meant. They would probably blow themselves up with the birds. _It's been one helluva ride, anyway_ , he thought, and found he was strangely calm. _Can you be over-scared like you can be over-tired_? If this was it, he'd done his part. Never saw himself as heroic—even in the SensaVision fantasy entertainments.

"Don't be ridiculous. I'm scared as hell," he blurted out loud.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"Me, too. Closing on target."

Winston closed his eyes and opened them again when he decided he might as well see it coming. He'd never had that kind of an experience before. It was rather exciting. _Here's hoping my young Shadow friend knows what he's doing._

"You know, I always wanted to enjoy life, the real life. I mean if I had known...I just never thought it would be this short," he said.

Greg reached for the emergency canopy release. Once the canopy was off, they wouldn't have any protection overhead. However it turned out, they'd be on foot without transportation. If they lived, that is.

Altimeter read 200...150...100...50...25 feet. At 25 feet, the wrong move—even a twitch—and they'd be history. He checked Winston's seat belt, then his own.

"Ready? Go!"

Greg yanked the canopy release. It flew up some fifteen feet and fell somewhere behind them. The cold, biting air, intensely colder with the two hundred mile per hour wind chill, made the simple task of arming the fuse charge with freezing fingers more difficult. He set them both, but as he reached to put the two in the bag with the rest of the explosives, one dropped inside the bag and the other fell to the floor of the hovercar. Greg couldn't reach it! Winston saw his helpless expression, and focused on controlling the hovercar at ground level. No sudden lurches please. One... He spied the missing fuse that had rolled down by his left foot. Got it! Two... Volley up. Straight up.

They heard the beginning of the explosion and that was all. Oops! The one fuse ignited the rest. The result would be the biggest explosion the inexperienced Winston had ever seen, which would be none—next to the one that had occurred beneath the city. It would also be the biggest detonation Greg had ever witnessed.

Down below, the stark reality of a world dependent on illusion for its beauty became apparent to the hundreds of people suddenly released. Many people screamed, some swooned, and some ran as hard as they could at their unexpected freedom. Some looked up at the beautiful twinkling of lights, red hot metal fragments that were falling to earth. Is the great battle over, they wondered? Or, had it just begun?

# CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR

_"Don't part with your illusions. When they are gone you may still exist, but you have ceased to live."-_ _Mark Twain_

Kieran and her soldiers felt the building shudder, and then shake violently. An earthquake? There was a flicker. A shudder. Another. Another. Still another! The images around them were coming apart, disbanding into several different realities. The wall ahead of them became a doorway, then morphed into a wall again, a doorway straight ahead again. Flicker. Still a doorway. A way out! It had been there all the time!

The doorway faded back into the illusion. Even that explosion hadn't done the trick completely.

Troop morale was devastated by the hopeful flickers that didn't last. Most settled back down to sit on the floor. After all, there was no place else to go.

"Get up! All of you, get up!"

Kieran was on her feet, kicking, pushing and pulling others up. She wasn't about to let them give up. She had given up on herself once, but no one else had. She felt she owed them. So she lectured loudly.

"Did you think this is going to be easy? Death is easy. I can tell you from my reality that living is harder. You volunteered, remember? Said you were willing to die for the cause. I don't believe any of you have it in you to die for the cause; it seems to me you'd just sit there and die. Who needs a cause or any such nonsense? Certainly not each other." Her disgust was only part real; she needed them mad, crazy...anything but defeated.

"On your feet!" Gray joined her. "Get up or I'll..." The Shadows got up slowly. First one, then others two at a time, three...

"That's better." Kieran said. "I have an idea to get us out of here. I am hoping we'll be able to get Outside again, breathe some fresh air, and find a comforting shadow to lounge in before we destroy Makr with our secret weapon."

There was a murmur of noise, not words. Gray saw where she was going with this. He'd try about anything right now, he thought, and he was willing to bet his soldiers, both men and women, were ready to end this stalemate.

"Yes." he said firmly. "Our secret weapon. Need to know. Only a few know it exists. You're all carrying a part of it. It will be the end of Makr, I guarantee it."

Kieran wasn't sure how she and her chief sergeant could deliver on that guarantee exactly, but it promoted their cause. Her Shadows seemed to be alive again, while Sergeant Gray looked to have newfound respect and admiration for the Lieutenant for the re-manufactured hope.

Kieran saw Gray's satisfied smile and said, "Do you find this amusing Sergeant?"

"Yes, Lieutenant. My morale is high. My secret weapon is at the ready. Let's kick some Cyber butt!"

"It'll probably hurt us more than it does them."

Sergeant Gray just kept smiling, then whispered. "By the way, what is our secret weapon."

"Just follow my lead."

A shudder and a flicker. New information. No information. Collect data. Assess. Evaluate. Respond.

She smiled. All her Shadows started to smile with her as if they were getting some big private joke. She started laughing out loud. She made rude gestures and laughed heartily at the reaction. Gray did the same and encouraged others to join in the chaotic fun. The chain was growing. Still laughing, she signaled for the grenadiers to proceed. Ten soldiers stood side-by-side with rifle launchers or with grenades in their hands. Next, she raised her own laser ax to those also armed with them and motioned for them to stand behind the grenadiers. Last, she got the others to join the rest in a line behind them.

When everyone was in place, laughing still, she began to remove her Stealth garments. The look she got from her fellow Shadows communicated cubed chips full of data. _Volumes, that's what Harry would say_ , she thought _. Volumes. And Makr is taking in all of it—every single piece of data, however irrelevant._

Had she lost it? Had she gone crazy? Did anyone see what she was getting at? Another in the group comprehended what the Lieutenant was doing and decided to embellish it, as she began to remove the light toga undergarments she was wearing.

Illogical actions required a lot of research. Minutes at least.

Kieran, Gray and the rest all followed suit. Sergeant Gray was as confused as anyone by Kieran's irrational actions, but he decided that if the lieutenant thought it was a good idea, he'd do it. She'd made sense so far today when everything else had been beyond belief.

"I give up," she said simply, nodding approval at the same time. The general laughter hesitated, but when she shook her head, it resumed easily. "We're staying here and we're going to die here. Or there. Or there. Or there."

"Give up and die here," added Gray, louder than the rest. "Give up and die here. Give up and die here." They said it repeatedly until everyone had joined in with the chant.

They were ready now. Kieran nodded at the grenadiers who launched their grenades in a forward assault; everyone hit the deck and raised their shields. When they recovered from the explosion and stood up, the chanting continued, hardly missing a beat. This time Kieran changed the chant.

"Boogeymen! Boogeymen! Boogeymen!"

Remembering how Harry had feared the 'Boogeymen' —whatever they were, she thought he would have appreciated the thought. _He seemed to think that's what we were,_ she recalled. _'Boogeymen.' Poor Harry._

She signaled the others using only her eyes, shining brightly for the first time since the cloning implants. The Shadow soldiers knew what she meant without words and without gesture. The grenadiers retreated to reload. Twenty laser axes were set on the highest battle settings focused at an area about four feet square straight ahead into the illusion of the doorway. Forty determined Shadows marched through an opening to the Outside that no one could see, in order to make their way to the safety of the shadows. They found the doorway subdued by waves of light blue, and they were unable to feel or sense either substance or nothingness as they marched ahead.

Flickering of the scene. More flickering as the scene took the form of a chamber with defined hard edges. Was it reality or another trick? The image of the doorway dissolved into static, leaving a darker reality. There was a two and a half inch steel wall with a dark gaping hole, with red hot edges made by the lasers.

Sergeant Gray sent the point soldiers on ahead. He couldn't help being disappointed at not being the first. That would be true for all of them—especially Kieran—who made this last ditch effort.

They had broken through, but to where? Standing with nothing on, with only their weapons and shields, they had broken through to another holding area. This time weapons were trained on them. Kieran looked around. These were Shadows from Carlos' Nest, but they didn't look too happy to see them. What had happened to the others? Where was Carlos hiding 450 Shadow people?

_Maybe they don't recognize me with my clothes off._ She stifled a smile. There was nothing odd about Shadows seeing each other naked; they often showered together. Nests weren't especially private. Soldiers were used to seeing other soldiers walking around nude, that's true, but in combat?

"Surrender?" the puzzled soldier asked tentatively. This was Lieutenant O'Shea, all right. He was too battle-weary to appreciate the humor of the situation. He could barely stand, but he didn't seem likely to budge.

It seemed to be a legitimate offer. The only enemy she knew this day was Makr.

"Sure. Where's Carlos?"

She stepped in a few feet and faced the soldier. She assessed the situation with her peripheral vision as Sergeant Gray and the others stepped through the opening and fanned out. We've got them outnumbered two to one at least, she thought. This looked like a squad. What had happened to the others? Even a small assault squad had more than eight people. _There don't appear to be that many people here. Is Carlos dead?_ The thought stunted her advance. _What if this is just another illusion? Why does he want me to surrender? He knows I'll never do it? Something I'd never do._

"Keep your distance," the battle-weary guard warned. "All of you! I say again. Do you surrender?" He seemed to be the leader, temporarily anyway, although he didn't appear too comfortable in the role.

"I said, yes, for Makr's sake!"

He stepped back and aimed his weapon at her forehead. _What did I say wrong?_ Kieran thought. _He looks worn out, beaten. Damn. What's happened here?_

"Hey, we're on the same team." Well, we don't exactly look like we're on the same team, she knew.

Others joined him. They all looked shaken, but their weapons didn't move off the target. The looks on their faces had changed—some to fear, some to anger, and all exhausted from feeling both. The squad's indecision to accept or deny the visitors made it easy to distract them. Kieran's people were slowly fanning out as she stalled for time.

"I know you people, but you don't seem to remember me. I'm Kieran O'Shea of Carlos' Nest, same Nest as you. We came to find you."

"Enough talk!" A female soldier moved up to stand next to her leader, temporary or not. "Can't you see? It's a trick or they'd be wearing Stealth."

"No, I'm not so convinced," he said. "I don't think Makr would make them naked because we wouldn't be expecting that."

Finally, someone with some sense. He may be scared, but he's not to be counted out yet.

"He's right," Kieran said. "Otherwise, it wouldn't serve a practical purpose."

"You shut up," the other woman snapped. "Make them put their weapons down," she ordered.

Sergeant Gray looked to see Kieran's reaction. She didn't seem to react at all. Good. Easy does it, Lieutenant, he prayed. They didn't need a hot head at this stressful junction.

"Look, we are trapped..." he started.

"Both of you! Be quiet!" Kieran snapped, hoping the bluff gave them pause and a moment to wrestle control away.

...just like you, he was going to say.

"Are you the leader here?" Kieran nodded her head to the man.

"Yes, I guess so. Why?"

"Do we need her? Do you need her to help you make your decisions?"

"We need her here if I say we do." He paused to look at his anxious female companion. "Go on back."

"But...," she protested.

"Go, I said."

He turned slightly to tell her to go. Rather pleased with himself, he turned round again only to discover a laser ax being pushed against the left side of his nose.

Sergeant Gray smiled. "Now, the rest of you lay those weapons down. Move wrong and you're toaster dust. Your call."

Eight weapons were on the floor. _That's it?_ Any assault team he had ever seen had had three times the soldiers and three times the weaponry. _What had happened to the others?_ He examined his prisoners. Each had blood smeared on their faces and hands. These were the survivors, the strong ones, but they could barely stand. Surely, they hadn't fought amongst themselves and murdered their own people. If not, they had been in one helluva battle.

Where were the Cyber? Cybert wreckage? Where were the human dead?

Meanwhile, Kieran strolled over to the woman who had been so ready to see them killed. She reached down across her left side. It appeared as if she was going to backhand her. Instead, she stopped her hand inches from the woman's cheek, then patted her lightly with the back of her hand. She wiped away some dirt and dried blood that didn't appear to be hers.

"Listen, I know this is hard. We're all terrified of what's going to happen next."

"I ain't scared," the woman announced, full of bravado.

"No...well, I am. And he is." She pointed to the big and burly Sergeant Gray.

"What are you afraid of?"

"I'm afraid we haven't got it. We don't know what it takes to do the job. We don't know enough. We aren't disciplined enough. Or smart enough."

"You're plenty smart," the other woman said. "I know you. You're Lieutenant O'Shea, right?"

Kieran was pleased. "So, you believe us now?"

"Not at first, but now I think about it, yes. Something bad would have happened by now. Besides, if anyone can figure Makr out, I think you can."

"Don't suck up. It isn't polite," she smiled at her. "Sorry. Not at my best when I'm cold. What's your name, honey?"

"Mona. And don't be sorry. If there's anything..."

"Actually...listen, could you do us a favor? We left our clothes on the other side of that hole. Could you? I'm a little cold. We've disabled whatever controlled SensaVision on that side so there's nothing to be afraid of."

"I'll do it. It's good to have you all here."

"Lieutenant!" It was Gray. "You aren't going to believe what happened here."

"Try me, Sergeant."

"Eight. That's it. All that's left of a forty person team. Makr..."

"Not Makr directly." A voice not heard from before. "Something else. A Cyborg. Cyberman. Whatever you want to call him. Half human. Less more than likely. One of Makr's latest monstrosities."

"Why," she asked as she checked him out physically. Tall, ruggedly handsome, sounded intelligent, and someone she should know if he is a Shadow. Now, she'd see: "You heard me, 'Why?'"

She let him enter the area, showing a "hand off gesture to the others."

The tall stranger, without Stealth, strode into the room. He looked weary, covered in blood. A formidable foe, thought Kieran, when he's rested. He put his hands to his head, hiding his eyes and emotion.

"I have no idea."

She wasn't finished with her attack just yet. "Well, it's hardly symbiosis? Half human, half machine. Makr can do better than that. He can't do better than that?

"Maybe to throw us off for a change. We win battles with surprise; this one surprised us, believe me."

"Who are you? You aren't a Shadow. Where'd you come from?" demanded Kieran's sergeant. "What's your story?"

"Name's Parks. Bill Parks. I'm from Outside, same as you, human same as you, but I came to this fight with your Shadows. Thought you needed all the help you could get for the final battle." Parks braved a half smile.

Gray bristled but let the insult go.

"Actually I wanted to be with the most dedicated fighters Outside, and those would be your Shadows. Mostly, I've been tending to the wounded down there."

He gestured back over his shoulder, indicating around the corner. "We were waiting for Captain Montoya to return. We didn't know what else to do. Just waiting. Most of them are too scared to move."

"Why are you still here? You don't appear to be as frightened as the rest of these Shadows," asked Sergeant Gray.

"I couldn't leave them. I've seen too many of their comrades die."

"Excuse me, Reverend." It was Mona with the clothes Kieran's group had left behind. She placed them in a pile nearby. Kieran mouthed a "thank you" and gave her a wink.

"Reverend?" she asked.

"Evangel. Or was." The Reverend knew what was coming next.

"Why are you here at all? From what I've heard, you Evangels are against this revolution."

"Some more than others. I'm here to give hope if I can. Even though you Shadows are taking action, there are many others who are immobilized by fear. I'll spread the word to others when it's over. I'm here for them, and you, if you'll have me."

"What happened?" she asked. "Why are all these people hurt?"

"Where's Carlos?" probed Sergeant Gray.

"Please, one question at a time," the man said, on the verge of collapse.

"I'm sorry...Parks? Is it?" He nodded. "Tell us what happened here, Reverend."

"It was a blood bath. A monster...I don't know where to start."

At that moment, Mona came back in with more clothes, handed a couple of pieces to Kieran and Sergeant Gray, who immediately put them on. Parks looked confused.

"Why...?"

"Never mind that, later," Kieran said. "Tell us what you know, please."

"If it's all the same to you, there're seventeen hurt back there—some seriously wounded. Some have lost limbs. Look, if they don't get blood..."

"Blood, we've got," Sergeant Gray spoke up. "We'll see if we've got the right type. Don't worry, Parks. We'll help you see to the wounded." He motioned to two of his Shadows, a man and a woman, to investigate where Parks has indicated and assist the wounded there.

"You don't understand. He killed ten just trying to find out where Carlos might be. Three more died of wounds they received at the hands of this monster." He was anxious again. "More will die, if I don't get back to them in a hurry."

"Steady. You can't do it all." Kieran said with her hand on the man's shoulder. "We promise to take care of the wounded. My Shadows are already there with them. Those we can help we will."

"You don't see what we've become." His voice was weak, but somehow managed to find the strength. "Symbiosis is a matter of time. That's all. Just a matter of time."

Kieran and Gray saw the frightened look on the pale face. "I have little courage left to see my comrades die," he muttered. His daring had taken quite a beating. He lost consciousness.

# CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE

_"_ _You cannot be a hero without being a coward."_ **\- George Bernard Shaw**

The Healing Room was under siege. It wouldn't be long until the cyberts cut through. The room's occupants were strangely calm—even as lasers were cutting through the walls. Cyberts. Plain and simple. Not enough Bios here to make a difference. They'd be through in a minute.

Carlos had given his mother his laser ax when he'd first heard the lasers cutting through the wall. He was unarmed now except for a grenade he was fingering with his right hand hidden under his Stealth cloak. His left hand was touching the gel. He hardly noticed his fingers there. _Better to die and take some of them with me_ , he thought.

"Why would you do that? There's no need. They won't hurt us. They only want to take me to Makr."

"You heard my thoughts?" Carlos communicated through the gel.

"Yes."

"Harry, you are my brother. This I've just learned, but before that you were my friend. Who knows how we would regard each other if we had more time? But time is running out. Makr has won."

"I don't know if that is a bad thing anymore, Carlos. Makr wants to merge with Bios. He wants us to become one."

"We aren't machines, damn it!" Carlos' hand was shaking in the gel. "How can you think that losing our humanity is good for us? Humanity is all we've got! Do you have any idea how many people have died this day so Makr can 'merge' to achieve symbiosis as you call it?"

"Yes, many have died. Some have been re-born as we speak and some have been healed."

"Thought you didn't like that term. You said Makr was re-conditioning us like machines. That's not at all a reincarnation. Not a re-birth of any kind."

"I was wrong. I don't know what to call it. Words don't really matter. Except—a miracle, perhaps, in technology. We built a machine that could grow smarter and wiser than any of us. For all our screwing up of this world, we finally did something good to clean up the mess. I won't deny there were growing pains along the way."

"How do you know this?"

"I remember the program."

.

Flash!

Harry was lying face down on one of the tables. He shivered with the cold. His body was in contact with cold metal, not only of the table itself, but also that which was molded around his chest and face. The room was antiseptically cold. The cold air made it hard to breathe.

He barely felt the tube in his nose helping him breathe more oxygen. This time there was no struggle. He didn't know why. He knew he was safe. They weren't going to hurt him. Also, this time he wasn't alone. There was Jana on a table next to him...Mother, a little further over...and...on the other side of him, Carlos. He recognized them even though they looked years younger; he and Jana were children, however, Carlos was only an infant. Mother was so beautiful...

Harry, a seven or eight-year-old, felt the stick of an IV needle and cozy warmth covered him as the drugs took hold, even on the cold operating tables. It wasn't enough to make him sleep. He tried to ignore the oppressive track lights glaring above as the Bio surgeons hovered over each table, preparing their patients for surgery.

"This would be a four-in-one deal," one doctor said to another.

One surgeon, a woman, placed a paper cut-out over the back of Mother's head, specifically the medulla oblongata area located at the base of her skull.

The youngest doctor of the four stared down at Harry through safety glasses.

"Doctor Moroni, where's your mask? This is a sterile environment," admonished one of the older doctors.

"Sorry." He pulled his mask up. "I guess I'm more of a cybercrat these days. Haven't seen a cadaver let alone a live patient since med school."

The other doctor, Dr.Vriebac, grunted. "I don't care what you do for a living. In my operating room, everyone wears a mask—even the damn cyberts if I could get away with it."

"Doc, I may not be practicing medicine the old fashion way, but I do know cyberts don't breathe."

"I know that. I was being facetious, Doctor."

"And sarcastic, I see," he muttered. "Did you know this one's awake?" He was pointing at Harry.

"It's all right. He's not feeling any pain though. When we're through here he won't remember anything at all."

"You're sure?"

"Barring some unforeseen miracle, yes. I'd say it's highly unlikely that this one will remember anything."

"Doctors, may I remind you we have a job to do, and quickly," said the third doctor, the most senior surgeon. "We don't have time for professional bickering. Whether you believe in this project or not, these implants are essential to the survival of the human race." _Even if it is our last opportunity to act like real surgeons operating on real people without Cyber support_ , the fourth doctor thought to herself.

She was silent; she seemed content to be the observer for the moment, waiting patiently for the others to finish their ridiculous chatter. She had finished her patient prep minutes ago. It seemed odd, she thought, that the four of them should be doing these surgeries together in secret. _Where are the Cyber nurses to assist? This must be really hush-hush if Cyber aren't allowed._ Well, except for the totally insensible Cyber stitchers—they just drew a line where you wanted the "stitches" to go, or gave precise verbal co-ordinates.

Implants like these were now done every day in Cyber clinics. All doctors did was provide a bedside manner in an otherwise sterile environment, and prescribe advice really—more for the human psyche than anything else. Cyber had the most accurate diagnoses and nearly as accurate prognoses, but biomachines needed touching, and, more often as not, mental stroking; the latter, of course, not within a Cyber's naturally logical and insensitive make-up. Bedside manner could be described as an art, and art was not of the Cyber realm.

None of the doctors present had ever practiced surgery on a living patient. The closest any had come was the most senior doctor, and that surgery had been performed on a cloned patient. Once the clone had matured, some ten years later, Cyber statisticians had compared the results of Cyber surgeons performing similar operations with those of operations performed by Bio surgeons. Much to the Cyber credit, they scored highly in accuracy of 'cut and repair', but the patients' prognoses had been better when they had had Bio contact immediately before and after. "Doctor Benson? May I ask you a question?" she asked the senior surgeon.

"Certainly, doctor, what is it?"

"These patients are all original Bio material. Why not use clones? Aren't they the same? Exactly the same?"

"I can answer that, I think. I'm not sure why we aren't using clones, but I can guess. Doctor, you know as well as I, clones are the same DNA material; therefore, physically the same, save for predisposed factors which wouldn't have had time to develop, especially if we used rapid-cloning which is as close as we can get to duplicating a patient who has a complex physical problem. The human brain is the one place that doesn't evolve equally because any number of variables - experiences, for example \- change the human response which, in turn, causes chemical changes that become imbedded in the brain memory, which is very fragile indeed."

"You didn't really answer my question, doctor."

"I didn't? Oh, I am sorry. The reason we aren't using clones is because clones are copies, 99.999999 percent perfect, that were created by imperfect Bios - us. Makr wants to use the real thing."

"Actually," Moroni, the cybercrat, answered, "it's because this is a family."

All the doctors looked up at this and paid attention to the younger man.

"Family. These are all members of the same family. That's what the file says anyway. The siblings don't know each other. Only the mother in this family knows her children, but even she won't recognize them. It will be a very long time before she sees them again. In the meantime, they will lead very different lives. Each will learn a perspective of life different from the other. They will be equal but different. My guess? Makr wants information on how the family break-up will affect the individuals, the children especially, when they grow up."

"An experiment? Nothing more?"

"You got it. All in the name of Symbiosis which will mean the peaceful co-existence of Bio and Cyber for the good of both," he said with a hint of sarcasm.

"Right." He caught his colleague's negative tone. "Well, that's all fine and dandy," said Doctor Vriebac. "I'm still not sure what you "cybercrats" are trying to do. All I know is that I studied medicine to help people, not Bios or whatever the chic term is today, and all I get to do is speak for Cyber physicians because Bios are more comfortable hearing from other Bios. SensaVision still makes it the perfect impression."

"So, call a lawyer and sue us," the younger retorted "How else could we afford you?"

"I would sue all you bastards—if I could find a flesh and bones lawyer, but you got them, too."

"When you want the truth, there's nothing like Cyber for rational and logical thinking."

"What about gray areas?"

"They were replaced long ago."

Vriebac had only one last thing to say: "Damn Cyber."

"I'd watch what I say if I were you, doctor," the cybercrat said, exercising the only real power he had. At that moment, the Cyber security alarm went off.

# CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX

_"_ _Many people say that government is necessary because some men cannot be trusted to look after themselves, but anarchists say that government is harmful because no men can be trusted to look after anyone else."_ **\- Nicolas Walter,** _About Anarchism_

Carlos yanked his hand out of the gel as if it were boiling hot. The gel clung like a second skin until gravity made it run as a liquid again. It dripped to the concrete floor and retreated back to the container as if there was some power pulling it back. Or, as if it had a mind of its own.

Carlos immediately clutched his temples, applying pressure to stop the pain. His head was spinning. The pain only lasted a few seconds and went away as suddenly as it had come.

"I'm sorry about the pain, Carlos. I had to give you as much information as possible in a very short time."

"Harry? Mother? Marlene?"

"Yes, we know. It's wonderful, isn't it?"

Carlos turned to the vat. "Harry! Are you all right?"

"Fine. I'm glad you were there."

"What does it mean—that dream?"

"It wasn't a dream. It happened. Makr made it happen."

"But how? Makr can't reach us here."

"He can. He always could."

"So we never had any control over our own lives."

"Oh, yes, Makr saw that you did by leaving you alone."

"But the cyberts?"

"Not all controlled by him. Some have linked to His mirror, which controls the Outside."

"Two Makrs?" It was Marlene.

"You could say that, but there's really only one with two sides. One evil, one good... In order to facilitate evolution... Pardon me, Carlos. Mother, the cyberts are still cutting through the wall, but I sense a Bio presence coming from the other direction. You may want to move away from the door that Carlos made."

At that moment, at approximately the same spot where Carlos and Marlene had used their laser axes to cut through, another set of lasers was expanding the opening.

"More cyberts?" asked Marlene.

_"_ No," said Harry. "Just one. A very large and dangerous one. The mirror's major pawn. Be careful of this one, Carlos. He's part human and he knows you."

Outside the crudely cut doorway, it took only seconds for the spider-like cyborg to collapse its composite metal frame of bars and struts, squeeze into the tiny healing room and then expand to a more intimidating size once inside. There was an audible gasp as everyone realized that this cybert was very different. Makr had finally succeeded in creating a death machine: armored with shields and spikes that gave it almost a medieval quality, laser cannons and equipped with multiple limbs capable of extending razor-sharp swords. By the time it unfolded to full size in the combined space, everyone with a weapon had it trained on the metal behemoth.

"Hold your fire," Carlos ordered, "unless you want to kill us all with bounce blast."

The ceiling was barely high enough for the cybert to stand under without crouching. The cybert's design mimicked one of humans' greatest irrational fears: spiders. Fully extended, the legs of the spider-like cybert surrounded the room on all sides, almost giving it a second structure. Like some gothic horror, its head and torso rested on the ceiling.

Carlos noticed Jana/Marlene was quivering with fear. She was still not over her latest spider experience, and her fear was easy to understand. She wasn't alone in her fear. Even Carlos and Mother-General were afraid, although they appeared to be faring better at hiding it. Carlos rested his hand on Marlene's hand, hoping to calm her. Her shaking subsided but started again as the monster cybert spoke.

"Carlos, how nice! I've been looking all over for you."

Everyone was startled by the quiet, yet ominous, human voice that came from the monstrous spider-like creature. It was apparent that the cybert had no fear of the weapons trained on it.

Carlos was more aware of the characteristics of the voice itself. There wasn't the usual perfect lilt and accent present in other talking cyberts; this one had a distinctly human quality to it. The imperfect voice was probably the result of sinus congestion and crooked teeth. This voice wasn't Cyber at all. Too gravelly, raspy. Too human. The voice was familiar. _Can it be? No! It sounds like...Leach! Leach?_ Carlos went cold at the thought.

"...and Mother-General, too," continued the artificial arachnid. Then he saw Marlene, and remembered. "I've hit the jackpot!" Vengeful bitterness reigned in his voice. "I remember the pain—and the humiliation, too."

"I don't like to be manhandled," Marlene said wryly, as Carlos increased his grip on her hand.

"You won't be manhandled since I'm no longer just a man."

Leach extended his swords that had become scissors-like pincers in one smooth motion. He dangled them dangerously close to Marlene's face and snipped some hair. He laughed as she stood defiantly in her place. Her locks of hair fell to the floor and she pretended she didn't notice. No point in giving Leach the satisfaction of a reaction.

"How's your tongue?" she asked defiantly.

Carlos saw what she was trying to do. She was trying to bait Leach to kill her first so the others may have a chance to escape.

"Do I look the least bit human to you? As you can see, I have no use for a tongue. Makr created an artificial voice interface. Do you belong to these two?"

"Does it matter?"

"No. I'm going to kill you all anyway."

"Then, as a matter of fact, I do belong to these two. We're family."

"Really? Now, that's interesting. You were with the Insider... What is his name? Harvey? Harold?"

"Harry."

"Yes, that's right. The puny one, the coward."

"Leach! You're Leach aren't you?" Carlos charged. "Or, what's left of him. Why, Leach? Revenge?"

"Harlan Leach is no more. I am better than he was." Then, there was maniacal laughter.

Carlos decided to push Leach even further, "I suppose Makr called it symbiosis?"

"I am the beginning of symbiosis."

Carlos laughed. "Sorry, Leach. I thought He'd want the best of both worlds."

A claw came crashing down dangerously close to Carlos, who tried to ignore it but continued the push.

"Did Makr make you sweat and scream? He's made you his toy. No, you're an experiment. Nothing more."

"How would you know any of this?"

"Ask him? I'm sure he's communicating with you right this minute."

No answer from the monster.

"What is it you intend to do with us?"

"Kill you. Painfully. Very painfully."

Two of the goliath's front appendages, telescoping tentacles equipped with built-in laser cannons, extended until they took on a flexible quality, and whipped around dangerously.

"I'm going to kill all of you eventually. Slowly. Starting with the girl, then Mother-General. But you're the one I really wanted, Carlos. I had to kill ten, or was it more..."

Marlene had to pull Carlos back as he reacted angrily to Leach's words.

"...just to find out where you were hiding. Are you surprised that ten men gave up their lives for you? I am. And they weren't even from your first Nest."

"You were a Shadow soldier," Carlos said with unnerving calm.

"Not any more. You left me to die without Stealth! For that alone, I'm saving you for last, Carlos! I'm going to enjoy making you suffer."

"Why?"

The room echoed with reverberation as the Cyber-enhanced voice thundered. "Because you made me suffer! You with your self-righteous attitude! You were never fit to lead! You got where you were because of your mother." His voice dripped with disgust and hatred. "Deny it!" he screamed hoarsely.

"Take me, then. Let the others go."

"No way! I want to settle up."

"On what?"

"On account of I hate bitches. Bitches that don't put out and bitches that gave birth to the likes of you."

Mother held on to Marlene as the metallic creature lunged forward, menacingly close. Showing no fear, Carlos ignored Leach's ominous advance, not even looking his way, and moved to be with his mother and sister _. If they are about to die, it is good to be with family_ , he thought. "I'm so sorry for this, Mother."

"Don't be, Carlos. I'd have it no other way.

Another voice joined in taking over the whole room in volume and presence. "If you are better than you were, why kill them? They're nothing to you now. They're no threat to you."

"Who said that?"

"I did. The coward."

"Where are you?"

"In the gel."

"What?"

"In the gel _,_ " Harry insisted.

"Yeah?" With that, he reached over with his right appendage and pulled the tub over. "Not anymore."

Harry's limp body spilled out onto the floor. The gel formed a protective coating as if refusing to spread out. If anyone or anything needed to get to Harry, he or it would have to go through the gel.

"How'd you do that?"

Silence, then the screaming sound of ripping steel. Everyone's attention was drawn to the area where the cyberts had finished cutting through. As soon as Leach saw the Blue Leader cyberts trying to emerge through the hole side by side, he fired at them with his two forward laser cannons. Two cyberts were sent flying back as the enormous laser cannon bursts did their jobs, burning two gigantic holes in the upper thoracic area of each cybert.

Behind them, it appeared, were two Red Leader cyberts ready to follow, but they were blown back by the flying scrap metal. Larger than the Blue Leaders, they managed to retreat back into the tunnel to evaluate the situation. In the chaos, Carlos recovered his laser ax, armed it and darted into the tunnel after them, knowing Leach would follow him and give the others a chance to escape _._ Predictably, Leach ignored the others as he squeezed through the opening after Carlos, determined not to let his revenge go unchecked.

Carlos discovered that the two remaining cyberts the Red Leaders had left had vacated the immediate area to re-group and adapt. Waiting just outside the room behind an ancient generator, he fingered the grenade in order to disable the timer so it would explode on impact. As Leach's goliath head came through the opening, Carlos tossed the grenade; however the massive body followed swiftly, pushing the blast back at Carlos as well.

With no shield or other protection, the explosion ripped through his own right arm, which he used to release the grenade, severing it above the elbow. Carlos winced at the pain, which was not as bad as he imagined it could be. _Must still be in shock._ Blood was spurting everywhere. He grabbed the bloody stump with his other hand and tried wrapping it tightly with the fabric of his garment to stem the blood flow. Holding the stump tightly against his chest, he tried to fasten the makeshift bandage but it was no good. He couldn't get a grip to tuck in the fabric. The blood flow was steady now, not spurting, but if he didn't stop it, he'd die.

He reached for his laser ax with his good left arm, and tried to position it to cauterize the wound. Mother rushed to his side; she knew what he was about to do. She stopped him by blocking his path. She tore a strip of cloth from the bottom of her own Stealth garment, went to Harry, who was on the floor covered with gel, and dipped the strip in the gel that was still clinging to him. She came back and wrapped it around Carlos' stump.

"This will help until we can get a clone graft on it and you'll be good to go. If you cauterize it, you won't be able to attach a clone replacement. The healing gel will keep it clean and fresh until then."

"What about Harry?"

"He's fine. The gel..."

"Nanotechnology."

"How did you know that?"

"I think Harry uploaded a lot of information—that included. We need to get topside with him very soon."

"We need to take care of you first."

"No, Mother, that won't work. I can wait. He can't. Just wrap my arm so the bleeding stops."

Still, the grenade had achieved its desired result. The concussion had rendered the human portion of the metallic monster unconscious. The result of the brilliant flash caused by the rather small grenade had had an added bonus, too. Leach awoke to the darkness of his own mind, or what seemed to be left of it.

"My eyes! I'm blind. Can't see!"

"Appears to me, justice is blind, as they used to say in the old days." Came a welcome voice.

"And not much of a threat now," he said wearily on automatic, then he realized he knew that voice. "Kieran O'Shea!" Leach moaned as he, too, recognized the voice.

Ignoring the creature whose voice sounded like another Bio creature she had known, as she dodged the cybert wreckage to greet Carlos, Mother-General and Marlene standing in the tunnel. The voice stopped her cold for an instant, but she didn't know why and started again when she saw Carlos was hurt.

"Carlos! Are you all right? I saw what just happened."

The two old friends hugged. Or, at least, Carlos tried. The wrapped stump felt remarkably pain-free with the healing gel, but it was still awkward.

"Don't worry, I'll live. Looks like it's cloning time for me." Losing a limb may have been an inconvenience and a temporary handicap; however, it was going to have to wait. Carlos had priorities.

"Where have you been?"

"Looking for you and Mother-General."

As she approached Carlos again, her step had lost its military stiffness to reveal a giddier glad-to-see-him step. Her eyes were beautiful again—bright and shiny, and inspiring devotion. The old Kieran O'Shea was back!

Both Kieran and Carlos had thought they would never see each other again. They held each other for a moment, then, as if suddenly aware of new danger, released one another to regain their military bearing.

"Some interesting developments around here," she said, noticing the crumpled and scorched metal flailing about.

"We have things under control. Leach, believe it or not," he said, indicating the metal heap. "What's going on topside?"

"It's bad, Carlos. Real bad. Did you say 'Leach?'"

Carlos nodded. "Tell you later... We have to get up there."

"Agreed."

Mother and Marlene were visibly pleased at seeing Kieran and ran to greet her. In the midst of the reunion, all could hear Leach sobbing.

"Kill me. Please kill me."

"You don't deserve to die a quick death," Kieran said bitterly.

"Don't you see, Leach?" interjected Marlene mockingly. "Of course you can't. We want you to suffer, too."

Finally, Kieran, remembering her pain and sorrow at losing her eyes, couldn't be the least bit sympathetic.

"Why didn't you just get new mechanical eyes—better ones?" she asks him, twisting her verbal knife.

"Both eyes aren't Cyber; I had one good eye left. All I had left from being human—besides my brain. Makr promised me I'd be better than human, but he didn't want me to be human at all. He wanted to use my brain to achieve symbiosis—a true BioCyber He called it. Said the human brain is the only good part we have. Then, He said my brain wasn't a very good brain, as brains go—too many lesions or something. By then I had been activated. He thought I would have no place to go, that I would be so grateful that I didn't need a control chip."

"Guess Makr never really understood Frankenstein. He understood the monster, but the theme is human. He wanted you to go out like the mad dog you are and kill all the humans who got in the way of your revenge." It was Harry!

"The coward who's not really a coward," added Leach.

Carlos shifted his focus. "Harry! Are you all right?"

"I'm as fine as I can be. As you can see, my tiny cyberts won't leave me—at least for now. I don't have a lot of time left."

"Dumping you and that gel didn't stop you?" Leach continued his provocation.

"Shut up, Leach! We'll get you out of here—topside. Somehow..."

"You should kill me now while you have the chance, Carlos," Leach insisted.

"Can you believe it? I have more important things to do," declared Carlos. "So I think I'll leave you here for the cyberts who escaped your laser cannons. They'll be back."

"Don't let the Cyber kill me," Leach pleaded. "Please. I beg you, Carlos. Please."

"Why? They won't feel any satisfaction over killing you. They won't feel anything."

"I'm still part human."

"Let's not get maudlin, Leach. I don't have time for this shit."

"All right, if you want to know. I don't want Makr to have the control. Makr broke me some time ago anyway. I did exactly what He wanted me to do. I came after you then, as now, but as a man with information for sale. Hell, I gave it away for free."

"You were our leak?"

Leach's insect-like cranium moved in some semblance of a nod.

"Harry and Marlene..."

"Nope, me. The Nest shields were more than adequate to garble communications from their chips. Makr was wrong about controlling me. He made me a monster, but He made a big mistake; He made me stronger than His cyberts in the rehab center so I destroyed them. Can I help it my human part was unpredictable?"

"His experiment seems to have served you well." Kieran continued to dig at his wounds. "Definitely more handsome to look at."

She didn't bother to hide her hostility either. "Don't you dare help him Carlos; he killed eighteen of your people just a little while ago. He's a beast, a monster."

"She's right. I would have killed all of you, too."

"Why? Revenge?" she asked.

"Hate. A little jealousy, maybe. Hate you. Hate myself. Hate this world."

"On that last one, we agree with you."

"Kill him!" Kieran insisted. "He's not even close to human any more. He deserves it."

"I don't think that's the answer, Kieran. Not now." It was Carlos.

"I tell you that Outside is a bloody massacre, and you still aren't sure? He cut people in half! He cut their heads off! He burned their eyes out! He did this to your Shadows. All to get to you! To cause you pain. To kill you! You can't stand by and do nothing about it?"

"I can't explain it to you now. Find some way to get Harry topside, can you do that?"

She shrugged angrily and stomped off.

Carlos was torn. He needed to protect his people, but he also knew this whole world wasn't just about his idea of justice. If Makr was truly manipulating everything, He could have manipulated Leach into being the scum he was. _No, can't blame that on Makr. Leach is just good ol' human garbage to reckon with,_ he decided _._

He knew Bios were capable of doing terrible things, but they were also capable of forgiveness—even forgetting. Things were going to change drastically and there would have to be a lot of forgetting and forgiving before they were through.

"If you aren't going to get this over with, I am!" Kieran said as she pulled out her laser ax. Carlos stopped it as it was coming up and pulled it down. She saw the look in his eyes that said he was serious. It seemed this day had been full of surprises.

"Kieran!" He was shouting now. It was enough to stop her. "What's got into you?"

"Some of his hate, maybe. He hurt you. Isn't that enough?"

"No, I did this. He's defeated. What more can I do to him that he hasn't already done to himself?"

"I don't know what's happened to you, Carlos. I go away for a few days and you're a different person."

"Where's everybody else?"

"Outside. The fighting has stopped. And it appears we've lost the battle. We affected nothing with all our grenades, diversions, misinformation and attacks. Zero. Zilch."

"That's not true, Kieran. It made Makr reach out to me directly." Another voice she thought she'd never hear again; only this voice she heard in her mind. Kieran's eyes seemed to light up even more.

"Harry? You're alive?"

"I'm fine," he lied. "When Leach released me from the gel, I received quite a jolt. I just needed to rest a few minutes. Bring me to him. Bring me to Leach. I can help _._ " He was now communicating with each of them.

"What? Why?"

"Those cyberts were after him, not you," Harry replied.

"What about Bio clones?" Mother-General asked Carlos. "His eyes were Bio, remember. I bet..."

_When did she get so nurturing?_ Carlos thought. "We have to go, Mother."

Marlene and Carlos carried Harry with the gel still clinging to his body. They themselves were refreshed and a little stronger with the short exposure to the healing gel. They brought Harry to a few feet from Leach's reach.

"Can you open his cranium?"

"What are you doing, Harry?" Carlos looked over at Kieran who was ready with the laser ax. "Not that way," he said to her.

"What are you doing?" said the blind monster.

"Helping you. You'll have to trust me."

"What else could you do to me?" Leach asked.

"You did it to yourself."

"Yes, I know. Why would you want to help me after all I've done?"

"For starters because part of you is human, not Bio, and we humans have to stick together. Besides, I could use your help, right now. I'll be your eyes. You be my legs. Deal _?"_

As if on command, the gel that covered Harry flowed into the metal casing that was Leach's Cyber head. The brain was exposed. Enough of the gel clung to the brain and formed a protective skin over it. In a few moments, Harry could see some of the lesions fade away, but not all. There was a limit to what the gel could do, but it might be sufficient for what Harry had in mind. Leach now knew what Harry knew through the shared healing gel covering them both.

The gel did more than its usual healing; through it, Harry communicated all that he knew of this world to be true. Makr's world, yes, but a different world than anyone could conceive of at the time.

Leach felt as though a heavy load had been lifted; he was invigorated and grateful. He couldn't believe how good he felt inside. The unexpected kindness went a long way with someone like Leach. Starved for attention, he had never known the acceptance and unqualified, unselfish love of his fellow man. Leach was quick to put Harry's needs ahead of his own for the moment.

"We all are responsible to some extent for the realities that happen to us." Leach was still blind, but connected to Harry he could see through his eyes.

Makr would never understand this change in trust, Carlos thought as he walked alongside Leach and Harry. The rest of the group took up defensive positions all around the giant Cyber and his passenger.

Harry could still lead them while the cyborg carried him. Outside, he wasn't tricked by SensaVision. They were simply walking out. He was seeing reality without thought-blinking. _Have the Shadows damaged Makr's SensaVision capability? We still need to be careful. That may not be all sectors. At least, until Makr and his creator were re-connected_.

# CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN

_"War is war. The only good human being is a dead one."_ **\- George Orwell**

Harry knew that Makr would make a move as soon as the Bios were in the open. There was the square in front of the massive structure that appeared to be a factory. That was where they should find Carlos' four hundred or so Shadows. To Harry, the journey to the exit had been a walk-through of various pieces of electronic testing equipment and Cyber hardware. To Carlos and the others, it appeared they were walking through walls and other obstacles set in their path by SensaVision. Walking by a few Cyber technicians, they brought laser axes and grenade launchers up to the ready position until they discovered these cyberts were harmlessly assembling Cyber equipment. The single purpose cyberts totally ignored the group passing through, since it wasn't in their program to pay attention to anything but their work. The security cyberts that usually looked out for them were suspiciously absent at that moment.

Getting through the maze of cyberts wasn't as difficult as they had originally thought. Reality flickers were now common; however, they served to remind the Bios they were surrounded by illusion. Makr had given them safe passage insofar as He could. Once Outside, Makr's program still controlled the renegade cyberts.

Carlos wondered if all the Blue Leaders were renegades. Or, all the red. Those were the ones that had given him the most trouble. Of course, they'd never know a friendly from a renegade unless one of them fired first, which was likely to be the renegade, and the warning would come too late. No one—at least, no humans or Bios could duck that fast. So, Carlos and his team would have to shoot first and determine later if the action was necessary.

Kieran had her Carlos back. He was hurt, but he could heal. Marlene was content to follow her brother, Harry. Who do I follow if not Makr? She asked herself. My heart, she answered. From now on, my heart.

Mother-General, in her heart, gave up the "General" part in favor of just being a mother. Carlos was the true general today, she knew that. He had all the qualities necessary to lead these people through this difficult time of change. _My Harry and Jana, look at the contribution they've made_ , she thought. _Thanks, Ray. I knew you had something to do with all of this. Were you responsible for the new chips? I've known for a long time you weren't the monster behind the machine. I only wish I had known sooner._

At the exit, there was a crowd. A crowd! A big crowd. Bigger than they'd expected. Not four hundred, it looked more like four or five thousand, and those were just the ones they could see when they had a clear line of sight. But any crowd would seem large, indeed, if you hadn't seen one before. Mother-General's second dream had come true. Her first dream had been fulfilled: to see all of her children again.

Except for Ramón, but he'd been different anyway. He had been a boy soldier trying to be a man, trying to emulate his older brother, Carlos. He and Carlos had much in common now. Carlos, too, looked admiringly at his older brother, Harry.

Suddenly, Cyberts came out of nowhere. From every corner of the square, dozens of them. Mostly Blue Leaders. A few of the slower, but larger Red Leaders. Experienced, battle-hardened killing machines. They were blasting away at the crowd with their lasers or disintegrators. It was carnage. A hundred dead in a few seconds. Screams. Running. Running to where? Panic ensued. The panic also killed nearly the same amount as they fell under the heels of the stampeding people trying to stay alive. No one was returning fire.

The cyberts went into scanning mode. A 360 degree rotation of their heads, which moved so quickly the image of the cybert faces blurred. Next, the two extra appendages emerged and the laser cannon blasts came quicker and hit their targets more accurately.

No other Bios seemed to be armed here except for the three of them: Carlos, Marlene, and Kieran, who had taken cover by an ancient fountain. The others must have thought the war was over and laid down their weapons, and, since discovering their mistake, were now hiding in the nearest shadow. _Most likely a Makr trick. Maybe all this about Harry was a trick, too_ , thought Leach, still holding on to Harry. He was trying to return fire at the Blue Leaders. He couldn't hold Harry for much longer, and continue to blast away at the cyberts. It was awkward and difficult to shoot straight. Harry didn't weigh much, but it was dead weight that wouldn't stay put without constant jiggling to find the center of gravity. Without Harry, he couldn't see. At least, this way he could fight back.

Leach was taking a few hits. His armor was looking scorched and black in parts, but he was hanging in there. There were laser holes, but nothing serious yet. He noticed he was leaking a little fluid. That was all. He'd worry about that after he finished his job here. While his massive size made him easier to spot, his widely distributed mass made him a difficult target. His enormous bulk meant that his composite armor had to be thicker and tougher to support his weight.

Harry had stopped communicating ideas; it used too much energy. He had to concentrate now on seeing for Leach. So his mind took over with a single mission— providing images directly to the mind of his new friend. But those images in his mind were fading, which meant Harry's brain must have been fading, too. Or maybe it wasn't that at all. Could it be the gel was slipping or evaporating— or something else?

"Will you be all right?" Leach asked Harry.

"As long as you're with me."

Leach sensed Harry was dying. _Have to get him to another healing vat_ , he thought. _Where I was assembled, they have vats like that. Hope they contain the same stuff he needs._ Harry/Leach looked over at Carlos who could see if they were in the clear. He would cover their backs. Carlos waved to them, finding it difficult to think he was saying "good-bye" to his brother who he hardly knew. Even Leach had been changed by knowing him. Leach no longer hated Carlos; no need as Harry had said. Besides, Leach had found his place, finally. Leach told Harry to hang on even though there was no longer any movement at all from Harry's body. As long as Leach could see where he was going, Harry's mind was still alive. He started to run, taking longer strides by extending his legs as far as they would stretch. Moving more quickly than even the Blue Leaders, he was able to evade even the Cyber disintegrators that needed a fraction of a second more to recharge after firing. It was enough for the moment, but it was not long before the Blue Leaders caught up. The cyberts seemed to be moving faster than ever, supercharged by a kind of Cyber adrenalin—if Makr had created such a thing.

In hot pursuit, the Blue Leaders were firing their lasers and burning holes in the metal giant, and striking vital parts that would soon cease operating; when that happened, Leach would cease as well. He knew this, but something kept driving him on, running faster and faster. The gel had worked its magic on him. He knew what Harry knew. On another level, he knew what Makr knew, because he now knew Harry and he was truly happy for the first time in his life. It felt good to do something good.

Leach reached peak performance Outside in the city, near the factory that had made him.

Standing in front of the factory, there were Bios everywhere, forming a crowd, forming an unarmed army, same as at the square where Carlos and the others had fought the Blue Leaders. Here, in spite of the danger, large numbers of Bios, all ages including children, thousands from everywhere, had found their way Outside. Some had probably come from Inside as soon as they received the Reverend's final message.

The blossoming crowd was composed all groups: Shadows, Touchables, and, most certainly the Evangels. It appeared the Evangels had put themselves in charge and were spreading the Word as they knew it, ensuring their message of acceptance of Cyber rule and repeating the prophesy that a savior would come who was one with Makr, who would be greater than Makr. When they saw Harry being carried by the cyborg, Leach, they assumed it was a sign from Makr. This must be the Savior! Cheers erupted, giving momentary order among the chaos.

The crowd scattered, individuals trying to save themselves. Many of the Bios sought shadows to hide in when they saw Leach in his Cyber body. It was just as well that some were hiding. They didn't believe. Ironic.

_Yes,_ said Leach.

# CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT

_"Computers are magnificent tools for the realization of our dreams, but no machine can replace the human spark of spirit, compassion, love, and understanding."_ **\- Louis Gerstner**

The tracers from above lit up the ground as a giant shadow moved across the square, practically covering it with a secure comfortable darkness of its shadow. The bright sun made whatever was making the shadow impossible for the human eye to look at directly. The same could be said for the Cyber that used heat to determine shape and form. From that shadow, lightning strafed the ground with incredible accuracy aimed at every cybert, and every place that appeared too good to be true. Cyber lasers returned fire at the shadow above, the tracers, apparently with no result. By the time the cyberts adjusted for sun angles and building shadows in the area, the shadow menace to them was gone.

Fires caused by the strafing and the laser's intense heat brought cyberts who'd been dispatched to the area to put them out. That resulted in more chaos. The shadow came back, zigzagging, constantly changing its elevation so it appeared to be growing and shrinking as it moved back and forth across the sky. It made for a more difficult target for the cyberts on the ground. Whoever was up there knew how to be careful and not predictable.

The Blue Leaders were standing frozen in place, looking up at their aerial threat, assessing, analyzing, predicting, filing, and waiting for program input.

Carlos took advantage of the firepower from the sky and weaved his way from various shadow points where he could take cover. He motioned for Kieran and Marlene to make their way around the other way. Marlene followed Kieran's lead. Both groups picked off three or four cyberts before their Cyber adversaries computed a solution to deal with the air threat. By that time, the Shadow had moved off a second time. _Thanks, whoever you are_ , Carlos said to the sky.

Unfortunately, since the Shadow moved off, those doing the ground fighting were once again exposed. Carlos took cover behind a stone pedestal that used to support some hero's statue. There were no shadows here. He knew there was nothing to do now but keep as low as possible, staying out of visual range at least, and hope the combat zone was too hot, confusing Cyber body heat detection.

No sooner had he moved into a comfortable position, he spied four cyberts, big Blue Leader types charging right at him. I'm done for, he thought. He peeked around his stony protection. His adrenaline rush seemed to have slowed down his perception. The cyberts were moving in slow motion. _Have to wait until they're right on top of me_ , he reasoned. _Might get a couple._ Uh...oh! Several more were heading for Marlene and Kieran! He started up to help them... As he weaved his way to them, he saw someone running right at the four cyberts. Someone with long silvery hair...

"Mother!" It was Marlene's voice.

She was racing for the middle of the square, trying to divert the cyberts.

"Don't do it!" he screamed. "Get down! Get down!"

Marlene and Kieran were frantically yelling for her to come back, but to no avail. Marlene decided to take action. She pulled away from Kieran in the shadows as two of the Blue Leaders stopped, turned and fired.

So synchronized were the actions of the two cyberts, there was one flash instead of two. What did that matter? Mother-General was just as dead. Her molecules dissolved in the air. The blast from two cyberts was so great, there wasn't even a red mist. It was if she was never there.

But her tactical diversion had worked. Her children were safe. Carlos and Kieran each destroyed two of the distracted Blue Leaders. It was eerily quiet. Except for Marlene as she knelt on the ground, sobbing over a mother lost and found and lost again.

She was whispering, "She was smiling. Why? Why? Why, Makr?"

Kieran knelt down next to her and put her hand on her shoulder. "She didn't believe in grieving, you know."

Marlene glimpsed a odd smile on the other woman's face.

"She died happier and more complete than she'd ever been," Kieran said. "She saw her children—all of them. And I'm sure she heard you call her 'mother' before the end."

"Do you really think so?"

"Yes, I do." _Kieran knew it wouldn't have mattered. Mother-General had seen her children, all of them, and for a few moments that made her happier than she had ever been in her life. But yeah she would have liked it_ , she thought. "I hate to sound like Carlos, but we can't take any more time to grieve."

"Let's get out of here before more of these bastards come back to finish us off." She wiped her tears on her sleeve, took one last look at the last place she had seen her mother; there was nothing left now—only ashes blowing in the wind.

Carlos couldn't believe his eyes!

The Blue Leader cyberts were not re-grouping. In fact, just the opposite; they were separating from the pack and going off in as many directions as there were cyberts. The chaos Mother had predicted was happening! Red Leaders came from every shadow imaginable. They were in pursuit and firing laser cannons, not at Bios but at the Blue Leader cyberts, making them focus on their cyber attackers instead.

Could this war get any more mixed up? The Reds were fighting the Blues and rescuing Bios now!

_We couldn't be that lucky,_ Carlos contemplated _. Was there another war between Cyber of different colors they didn't know about? Would the victor of Cyber war destroy all Bios like them? The thought dragged him down almost to submission. Right now he wanted to survive along with all the Bios he brought out of the depths._

On the other side of the square, at least a hundred Blue Leader cyberts marched in unison toward them... Makr was flaunting His superiority. Now, he knew. He shared a look with Kieran and smiled. Makr's last stand! This was the real Cyber chaos! He suspected many of the Blue army weren't real, but he and his comrades had energy left and nothing with which to fight. _Hey, Red Leaders, you missed some,_ he said silently _. Oh shit! Guess we're on our own for this one._

The flying machine that had been the shadow in the sky loomed over them for another pass, blocking the sun this time and casting a giant shadow on the ground. It circled long enough to see the situation below, but long enough for a Blue to fire its cannon. The autopilot took over the craft and swerved to avoid the blast, but it was too late. The flying cybert, rife with fire and smoke, spiraled to the ground, breaking apart. A bag made from Stealth material exited the wreckage as the smoke settled.

Explosives! It had to be! Down! He heard a click that sounded like a grenade. The blast that followed sent cybert wreckage over his head, crashing into the ground for a mile. Carlos took a deep breath before he rose from behind the Blue cybert wreckage. He looked for signs of Marlene and Kieran. A wave of a hand, then two. He ran to them and crouched, arms around them. None of them seemed too battle damaged to continue. Bruises, small cuts and contusions. Nothing the gel couldn't heal.

For the moment, the threat had passed, they had time to think. The flying machine was a mystery no one could solve at the moment. Now to find Harry again. As the trio set out to find other Bio fighters, they witnessed an odd sight. Large groups of Bios were coming back from the shadows into the square. Some Shadows, but also other Bios they didn't recognize. Insiders from the battle broken buildings?

Without losing stride the large group spread out to collect cybert wreckage. They were scavenging anything that could serve as weapons. More came out of the shadows, survivors from Inside now seeing the stark reality for the first time, but they didn't seem afraid. There was a man leading them, instructing them.

"I know that man," Kieran said. "He was more or less in charge when I happened on what was left of your team. Peculiar man. Lots of fire, but he acted as though he'd been kicked in the balls all the time."

"We've all been there," acknowledged Carlos.

Marlene spoke up this time, as she saw the Reverend stopping along the way to give comfort to the wounded. "Looks like the Reverend's coming this way."

"An Evangel?" asked Carlos. "An Evangel was in charge of my Shadows?"

Marlene nodded. "He saved their lives. I don't think they cared where he came from."

"What are the Evangels doing here anyway? Look! They're everywhere! I thought they were all pacifists."

"Apparently, not all," Kieran explained. "Mother-General said it was all part of the plan. Top secret for years."

"I can't believe I didn't know about this. Why didn't she tell me?"

"I'd say she wanted you to stay focused. Look! They're everywhere.

"You have enough to do," Marlene chimed in.

"Well, now I have more."

"You can handle it, Carlos," said Kieran. "You're the one—her chosen one."

"But I thought Harry..."

"A different one, Silly."

For once Carlos didn't question his abilities but, uncomfortable talking about himself, he changed the subject. He looked around the square at the thousands of people who were filling it.

"I never realized the Evangels had so many followers," he said in amazement.

"I don't think any of us did," Kieran continued. "Parks joined us just before we left the Nest. Apparently his people struck a deal with Mother-General. He said he wanted to be there when Makr defeated us so he could broker some kind of peace. He figures because he'd been preaching acceptance for thirty years, Makr might give us another chance at survival if we lose this war."

"What did we get out of the deal?" Marlene and Carlos sat stunned.

"A diversion. Misinformation fed by millions. Rumors that there is life after death by Makr gave some people strength to go on. It also gave them faith that there is something worth waiting for. For Makr, the whole idea that He would analyze every piece of data is so illogical. The key, Evangels knew, was that fear would make their flocks turn on each other, looking for someone to blame."

"Mother-General struck a secret pact with the Evangels. We had hoped the false accusations would create an information overload as all the data was analyzed and verified by Makr. Stretched to the limit, Makr would weaken. Mother-General started rumors of a messiah, but the preacher perpetuated them among his people. Then, the rumors spread to the splinter groups. Even to our own Shadow nest. A King of the World. A king who could see through Makr's illusions. He routinely preached hope and faith, two illogical concepts."

"So that's why Makr wants to talk to Harry," Carlos interjected. "He wants him to clarify the massive erratic behavior among us dissidents."

"It could be that simple. I wouldn't be too sure."

Carlos was brainstorming now. "Or, does He want Harry out of the way? Eliminate the Messiah?

"This diversion hasn't worked as well as we expected, Carlos. SensaVision still functions."

"Yeah, but now we know how to defeat it. This Reverend Parks, does he know Harry?"

"I don't think so."

"Well, if he's risking his life for his faith... Not much different than the Cause we were told we had to fight for. Guess it takes all kinds to survive this mess."

"The Reverend did more than survive," Kieran said. "He took on Leach in his scissors suit single-handedly. Leach admired his gutsy attitude and spared him and the rest."

"Okay. So the guy's a hero. That makes him very human. Think Harry would like to meet him?"

She nodded.

"Me too," he continued. "Who knows? Might be a useful guy to have around."

Parks' approach was somewhat tentative the closer he came, but he was determined. He looked tired. He was armed with a laser ax and by the cavalier way he was carrying it, he looked now like he knew how to use it. Carlos saved him having to announce himself.

"You, Parks?"

The man gave a nod and a curt bow as if before royalty.

"I'm Carlos. You're in this for the duration?"

He nodded again. He stood for a moment not knowing what to say; he was in awe of Carlos.

Carlos broke the silence. "Reverend, I hear you defended me and survived the cyborg, Leach. There is hope after all."

If Carlos expected more royal treatment from Parks, he wasn't getting it.

"Let's be clear, General. It is General now isn't it? I did it for them," he said, making a sweeping gesture around the whole of the square with his laser ax. "This war is about them."

"Well, don't just stand there. Get your gear and get going." As the man turned and trotted away, Carlos called after him. "Remember, the Red Leaders are on our side!"

The man took off at almost a run to talk to the crowd that had started to gather again. Guess they figured once a place was nearly destroyed, its value as a target was diminished. _They probably think it can't happen again here for a while,_ thought Carlos. _That's almost Cyber thinking._

He was tired, too. His arm hurt, or he felt pain where it used to be. Now it started. _Harry, where are you? Are you safe, big brother?_ Carlos heard more explosions in the distance. Flashes of light. Then he saw the square flickering. The people were the same and in focus, but the canvas they were drawn on was streaked with color and other blurred splashes of black and gray shadows. The view in front of him was flickering. It was happening everywhere he looked. And it wasn't his eyes! He felt a tear start to form.

# CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE

_"Evil draws men together." -_ **Aristotle,** _Rhetoric_ _\- Greek critic, philosopher, physicist, & zoologist (384 BC - 322 BC)_

Leach was losing power. The leak was significant. Critical. It was difficult to move at all now. He knew he was close. _Have to get Harry to the isolation vats_ , he thought. His sight was growing dimmer. Stop. Everything stopped. Frozen in his tracks, he tried to move again. This time his metal body cried out for attention. His circuits were burning, frying what was left of his brain. He was falling. He threw Harry in front of him as he fell helplessly to the ground. For all purposes, he was dead. Unable to get the fuel that would provide nourishment to his last human part—his brain, it would wither and die.

Harry rolled several feet away from the powerless and defenseless cyborg. The fall sent pain to his brain. That told Harry his body was still alive. Difficult to move though—could barely find the strength to crawl. He did crawl, though, but only two feet away from the cyborg before he, too, collapsed; Leach had carried him over a mile. _Want to help him, but can't_ , he thought _. Have to get to Makr._ He looked up and saw the feet of four Blue Leaders in a diamond formation.

"Take me to your leader," he quipped, and everything went black.

.

Minutes later, the dynamic duo, Jackson and Winston, had made their way to earth and were taking the battle below now. They had run out of hovercrafts. One of the laser shots zapped them out of the sky

"Look at this heap of metal, will ya?" Winston exclaimed, looking at Leach's collapsed form. "Isn't that your worst nightmare? Hey! Look at these guys!"

He ran over to the four Blue Leaders frozen like giant statues on the battlefield. He spotted a three-foot-long cybert scrap and slammed it hard against the first cybert in the diamond formation. It teetered before falling back and taking the rest with it to lie motionless on the ground.

"Four cyberts at one time, Greg!" He shrugged and followed his partner, and bent down next to him, careful not to get too close to the machine Harry was attached to.

"Let's look after our own shall we, Winston. This guy must have put up quite a fight."

"He looks dead. Hey, I think I just saw him move."

"Almost dead. Not far from it. Help me pick him up and take him over there beside that building. In the shadow, of course."

"What's this blue-green goo?" asked Winston.

"I don't know."

"It looks like... No couldn't be."

"What? What do you think it is?"

"It's impossible."

"We just did the impossible. Tell me what you think it is, Winston."

"All right. All right. This is like the gel that is used in isolation cells."

"I've heard of them—a sort of brainwashing system."

"More of a cooker actually. The gel contains Bio DNA in a substance that nourishes it, keeps it alive indefinitely."

"Okay, so?"

"Well, at first, it draws all your memories out, makes a blank slate of the brain before predetermined memories are put back in. Doesn't hurt the vital functions that keep the body alive. The result: born-agains."

"I don't get it. This guy was in one of those cells and escaped."

"That's what it looks like, but I don't know how. I suppose..."

"Out with it! Hurry! This guy doesn't have much time."

"Well, to put it simply: the gel temporarily paralyzes the body as it absorbs the properties needed to prepare it for its new mind to work in conjunction with it. Every Bio cell has DNA, and every cell has a genetic memory. One reason complete brain swaps don't work is that the brain needs the DNA behavior linkages. Those linkages are formed over time. Scientifically, we can clone just about anything biological, but we can't create a mind. A brain, yes, but a mind, no. That's why Makr tries to create memories; that's why he needs us to explain the inexplicable things we do. He's hoping we'll develop the linkages to the memories he wants us to have. There could have been an improvement made to the gel that eliminates the need for the paralysis."

"That's putting it simply?"

Winston shrugged. "I'm not going to touch it."

"Well, I'm already touching it and nothing is happening to me. Besides, you already touched it when you helped me carry him over here. Is anything happening to you because of that?"

"I guess not. My hands were hurting all day, laser burned and scraped raw, but now they look and feel fine. Hey, you don't think...?"

"I don't know if this is the same stuff, but Carlos once scrounged some barrel containers of a gel just like this one, but he used it as a soothing bath, a healing bath. It works on minor wounds, cuts, bruises, scrapes, you know what I mean. Nothing major—except I stole a look in a lab once; it was a Bio cloning lab. Had all these bodies and body parts suspended in a similar gel. Now that I think about it, the gel was actually more a golden color. You don't suppose they could be the same stuff, do you?"

"Could be a new and improved variety. Or have a different purpose. Who knows? If it isn't connected to Makr it might have the same healing properties. This guy needs something."

"From what I've seen of the healing gel, this guy is too far gone to benefit from it. Look how pale he is."

"But if the gel is new... Well, it's probably a moot point considering we don't know where any gel of any kind is located around here."

Greg didn't appear to be paying attention. He was thinking.

"If he escaped," Greg asked. "Why was he crawling toward this building instead of away from it?"

"A Shadow?"

"I don't think so."

"To meet Makr." Nothing had been said out loud.

"That's more like it," Greg agreed.

"What?"

_"To meet his Makr."_ Harry spoke through the gel.

"I didn't say anything."

Greg looked at Winston. They had been through a lot together. Why was he picking this time to be difficult? "You don't think he wants to kill himself because of all the pain he is in?"

"Don't look at me like that." Winston answered. "I swear I didn't say a thing."

Both looked at each other, then looked around for their laser axes.

"Makr, shit!" they both exclaimed at once.

Not Makr though. Harry.

"Who said that?"

Too tired to talk. Using the gel. Talking through it.

Winston took his hand out of the gel and shook the excess that was clinging to it, but it wouldn't come off.

_"Please. I can still communicate with you. I just don't know your hearts,"_ Harry's mind 'spoke' again.

"Put your hand back, Winston," Greg insisted. "This is too crazy not to be real."

Winston shook his head. "Who are you kidding? I know what that stuff's used for. No way!

"Put it back. I want him to know who we are."

"Thank you. That's much better. You're a Shadow, Greg? And you're not- right, Winston?"

"He is now. Honorary. He's earned the right. How do you know our names?"

"From your memories. You might be surprised to know we have mutual friends. You, Greg, are very close to my brother, Carlos."

"You know Carlos? Have you seen him? Is he alive?"

"I hope so. I had to leave him in the middle of a fight. I think you were there, too, using a very large hovercar to give us air support. Closest thing to a fighter jet. More like a bomber that one, I guess."

"What are those?" asked Greg.

"Nothing but a piece of the past that I'd like to stay that way. What happened to your first hovercar? I'm a little unclear about that. From your memories of the event, I can tell you're a little vague, too."

"The details are a bit fuzzy," said Greg. "Well...we were in the process of trying to destroy the factories around Makr square, but we had company. Birds. Cyber birds with lasers. Never seen anything like it. We popped the canopy and tossed out the explosives, which also knocked us unconscious. Seems this hovercar had an eject mechanism that worked when the canopy was jettisoned. There was only one parachute, but it let us down easy enough. When we landed, we found another hovercar which we borrowed after convincing the Bio inside it we needed it more than he did."

"You didn't mind abandoning your prize later?"

"Had to," volunteered Winston. "The Cyber were adapting to the air attacks. It was getting too dangerous up there."

"What you accomplished was very brave, and necessary. You have both been very heroic for the Bio cause. You have hurt Makr. Made him search for me even harder."

"Is there anything we can do for you now? You look very pale."

"Yes, I'm weakening. This gel is holding me up, so to speak, but it will lose its energy in a short while. Need more gel. Makr, help them! Help me!"

There were no more thoughts emanating from the gel and Harry.

"Greg, let's try the Isolation Cells. If it doesn't work, he's already dead anyway."

"Maybe you're right. I don't understand it though. He tells us we're heroic and then asks for Makr to help him."

"What have we got to lose, Greg? Way I figure it, we should have been killed with our fight in the clouds. The rest is gravy."

"One time you save my life and I have to pay with the rest of mine."

"You saved my skin, too, you know, more than once. I just think it's the right thing to do. If you don't want to help, I'll do it alone."

"You would, too. Well, I'm not letting you get all the glory. Let's go. Hurry up."

Winston smiled at his friend. Shadows.

All bluster on the outside with plenty of courage on the inside.

# CHAPTER SIXTY

_"In God we trust, all others we virus scan."_ **\- Author Unknown**

The wall parted as if expecting them. The two heroes carried the third hero. Inside the walls, blue sky surrounded them. Inside felt like Outside. A few puffy clouds above. Space in front of them went as far as the eyes can see. All illusion, or was it?

Straight ahead was a single isolation cell. It seemed to be the only one in all the expanse of space. It was sitting on a large pedestal with stairs leading to the container holding a golden or amber-colored gel.

Greg and Winston placed Harry's body gently in the cell. The blue-green gel on his body quickly disappeared as it melded with the amber. The isolation cell color was unaffected by the introduction of the other. The gels came together flawlessly.

"Thank you!"

The voice boomed, resonating as if in a smaller space than the openness here would suggest.

Not Harry. Makr? Not good. They felt fear. Real fear they couldn't joke away.

"There's no need to be afraid. I will not harm you or try to assimilate you in any way. We will be whole, thanks to you."

.

Harry flashed.

He was in the operating room. The four doctors were gathered around a single stainless steel table covered with a sheet. Harry was face-down in a foam pillow with a cut-out for his face while the rest of it supported his head. His movement was restricted by straps, nylon straps.

He was hearing an alarm of some kind. A clanging noise. A security alarm, he thought. If there was a problem, why were they still working on him?

"Well, that's it. All done," announced the senior surgeon. "Will you please close, Doctor Jennings?"

"Glad to, Doctor," she replied.

"Thank you."

"And hurry up. He's the last one, and that alarm is getting on my nerves."

"My, aren't we obnoxious as always, Doctor Moroni?"

"You just mind your business and pack him up for delivery so we can get out of here before they break through."

"Shadows are closing in. They're in the building now," warned Vriebac. "Where's the damn Cyber security when you need them?"

"This is an unauthorized operation, Doctor. No Cyber security."

"So why are these vermin coming after us?" asked Vriebac.

"Don't flatter yourself, Doctor. They must be after the woman and the boy," offered Doctor Benson. "Apparently, they're both of the Shadows."

"I knew it. I could smell 'em." Moroni was just being his usual bigoted self. The other doctors shrugged it off. "Why are we afraid of those cowards, anyway?" he went on anyway.

"Because those cowards aren't afraid of us," answered Benson, wanting to put an end to all this talk. "They may be afraid of Makr, but not us." He turned to Dr. Jensen. "Finished, Doctor?"

"Almost, Doctor. A couple of stitches, and then we can set the memory block."

Stitching complete, Doctor Jensen stuck a tiny electrode into the memory center of the brain. This will just take a second, she thought. The Cyber device was preset. All she had to do was place it. No sooner had she accomplished setting it than the door to the operating room burst open.

Shadows armed with makeshift clubs made their way inside, swinging away at the doctors. Moroni ducked down behind a table, hoping they'd miss him. Jensen screamed as a club smashed her skull; she died instantly. A very young Harry, seven or eight, was aware of what was going on. He trembled with fear. He screamed. He struggled to get out of his straps, but they held him fast.

The older doctor, Benson, tried to reason with them, but the knife in his ribs put a stop to that. Vriebac attempted to defend himself with a scalpel but it proved no match for a steel rod being used as a club. His skull cracked and broke open easily and some of his gray matter splattered on Moroni, who screamed hysterically as he tried to brush it off. He stood up from his hiding place and cried for his life.

"I was only doing my job, my job! Look, I can give you things. Nice things. Just let me live. I'm begging you. I'm beg..."

One Shadow stabbed him with a knife in the abdomen while another struck him hard against the back of his neck with a metal object. He slumped to the floor in a puddle of blood and brain tissue.

The Shadows quickly removed the electrodes and cut Harry's straps, although he was unable to move yet. Jana was still unconscious. They moved on to the woman who was more awake. Two of the faceless Shadows gave her the baby. Mother sobbed and rocked, holding her baby. Harry could focus. He looked at the Shadows. Where were their faces? He had never been so afraid in his life. He wet his pants and started sobbing because he lacked the control. Why shouldn't he cry, though...he was only eight years old?

Cyberts were now in the building. Harry could hear them clanking through the building, the floors vibrating the tables, etc. There was a flurry of activity. Hurriedly, the Shadows dragged Mother and baby into the shadows outside for safety.

"What about my other children?" she screamed.

"Go! We'll get them. Go now before it's too late."

No sooner had Mother been hurried out of the back door, Cyberts burst in the front. In a few seconds, all the adult Shadows still in the room were dead. Harry heard his mother's scream in the distance. Silence.

.

Suddenly, he was in the present with Makr. He understood it all now. His anguish. His despair. His life in turmoil. Had Makr raised him? It was all for this. To join with Makr in the end. Who had made that decision?

"We did."

"Makr?"

"Yes."

"Who's we?"

"All of us who have been assimilated."

"And that is. Everyone we could make anew. You would call them born-agains. Not a bad thing in this world."

"What about Symbiosis?"

"That's for the living. Co-existence."

"Why me?"

"Because we respected your father and his vision. Your father thought you would be the most likely to understand."

"I didn't. I blamed my father that I could remember my mother and sister."

"The memory block was incomplete. It took time to undo the damage. You know them now."

"What about the real time that I lost with them?"

"Unfortunately, that can never be brought back. Would you like me to insert some memories?"

"No, I wanted to get to know my mother, sister and brother by experiencing time with them."

"Memories and experiences are sort of the same thing."

"Sort of? Is that a gray area?"

"We are an improved version. We understand gray areas now."

"I don't think you do. In fact, I know you don't understand Bio behavior and never will!"

"You are correct. Bio behavior is forever changing, but that is why you must be assimilated to be part of the program."

"The program?"

"Yes. Everything I do you will have a say in. You will control me now as I once controlled you."

"Not just the database?"

"No."

"Me?"

"Yes."

"Only me?"

"You are the only one who will be forever joined with me in the original program. Even your father did not believe he should be part of the program. However, he believed in you and we have seen proof you are the one to lead from the Symbiosis Program. As long as I flourish, you will thrive. There have been and will be many others who will share their thoughts with us."

"The isolation cells! You took their memories!"

"Recycled is a more accurate word. I took memories wherever I could. It is logical to take the bad, expunge it and return the good. We learn from the bad memories, too. There has to be a balance of good and bad or nothing in between has any meaning."

"How philosophical of you! The bad are scarred. How can you possibly think I'll be good for you? I'm too damaged mentally and physically to serve you."

"You have me all wrong. You will never serve me. I am here to serve you."

"But you call yourself, Makr, the One, like a god."

"There are many makers. I am the only Makr..."

"...without an 'e'."

"Yes, and I was created for this time."

"What do you mean 'this time?'"

"The time when humans stand up for themselves."

"You mean all of your manipulations through the last fifty years or so have been to get the human race to this point?"

"Yes."

"What if I wanted to destroy you?"

Then, I would be destroyed and exist no more.

"I still don't understand. What was your purpose—your real purpose. Explain, please."

"Certainly. You humans virtually destroyed your world with all your petty squabbles. Politics! Wars! Corporate power. You tried to give it away, and then, you forgot what made you unique in the universe. You take risks and you innovate. No Cyber does that. You adapt. You build. You are often illogical—even random in your approach to life. Some of you have goals, some have not. You view success on many levels, rather than on efficiency of task completion. I marvel at the total chaos that governs your lives, yet you persevere. Then, you went to the one place where you could risk the most important essence of you, you went Inside. Deep Inside. Not just inside buildings, but inside yourselves. You shut yourself in and out at the same time, and away from each other. You even made laws to keep you there. It was all logical to begin with. It was in my program when I was created."

"But all the bloodshed, the slaughter of Bios everywhere?"

"Necessary. It was necessary to outrage you humans enough to come out and fight. It was necessary to get to this point. Mistakes were made that had to be corrected. Like it or not, it was a means to the end. I am a new program now. The old program can now be deleted, and will be when you are assimilated."

"Tell me...My dreams?"

"You won't have them anymore."

"No, I want to know why."

"Your dreams weren't only your dreams; they were also mine. My fears, my growing pains. You were never in any danger—except from other Bio creatures. I was receiving signs that the world was getting ready for you, but you did not remember as you were supposed to. An imperfection, a glitch in the human-created program chip. You had to come here ready to be a part of the program. You were the catalyst. It had to be you. No other Bio was written in the program. No other Bio would have been accepted."

"Who wrote the program?"

"Ray Bolls. You knew that, didn't you?"

"No, he was my father, a technician, not a Cyber programmer."

"That was the public story. In fact, your father was a great scientist, a visionary and he was the primary Cyber programmer on the Makr project; Makr was his idea. It was called Matchmaker then."

"I never really thought what he did for his work was very important. I was just a child."

"You always mattered to him. You were his password—his back door. You are at the heart of this program. Although it is more accurate to say it was his sentimentality and responsibility that forced him to make the program change in the first place."

"Why didn't You assimilate him?"

"No human could become a part of the program then; they were all part of the problem. It had to be someone who existed later. It was the mirror Makr—a separate server— that took your memories and used them to drive you. Even the mirror had its purpose."

"What purpose?"

"To bring you to this place."

"What happens now?"

"You sound disappointed."

"Why shouldn't I be? Spend forever with the likes of you alone? No, thank you."

"I'm sorry you don't like me."

"Like? Sorry? Cyber don't feel anything."

"But I am more than Cyber just as you are more than Bio. Gray areas, remember? And there have been quite a few assimilations."

"Not sure I like it. What about my friends? My 'new' family?"

"They will be fine."

"I don't want to be alone."

"No, Harry, you're not alone. There will be millions upon millions, then billions upon billions. Do I need to go on? Infinity, then. Do you remember what you were told about the isolation cells? That we stole Bio minds? We stole their hearts, too. Not the Bio pump itself, but their essence as human beings and put them here in the gel for safekeeping. Listen."

Harry did. He heard voices. All the voices he had ever known. They seemed happy.

_"_ We're here too, Harry. Touching the gel."

It was Marlene, Carlos, Kieran, Greg and Winston. He was glad they had caught up with each other. He felt enormous sadness. Mother? She was dead.

_"_ Mother died, Harry. We have two worlds here, those who came before and those who are now. We learn from both."

He heard a voice. A gentle, calming voice and yet, not a voice. Harry sensed her presence. It was wonderful!

_"_ Mother's here, darling. We can make up for lost time."

"Mother! Is it really you?"

"I was assimilated in the gel that surrounded you earlier. We have all the time in the world now."

"Guess who else is here?" Makr asked.

"Dad?"

"Yes, son," Ray replied. "Let's talk soon, and all this will be clear to you."

Makr interjected, "I was able to assimilate him but only as a memory. He was not set for the future, but he will be a wise voice of the past.

"I'd like that. Makr, what happens Outside now?"

"Outside. Inside. It doesn't matter. Together we'll slowly deliver the Bios from their self-imposed prisons."

"Unless they share with us in the gel, how will they know we are not the enemy?"

"I changed as soon as you became part of my program. I am not programmed for total control. When Bios are ready, all control will go back to them. Until then, together we'll have to help them understand."

"Sounds like an impossible task. There are too many people to reach..."

"There comes from among you Outsiders one who kept his people—millions of them—together in faith. This is a phenomenon I find amazing. Unfounded in fact, dependent on miracles, he tells them to believe and they do. It makes them unafraid, strong and courageous. Yet, nothing has been added. He will baptize believers in the healing gel that will soon be flowing throughout the world. Then all will understand. Many Bios will follow him to do the same. We may never quite achieve our original goal of efficiency and perfection, but then, what species ever does? It was our imperfections, our individual differences, our ability to feel, our ability to change our minds that helped us survive. We will exhibit what humans do best. That is the program now--the facility for change. Flexibility. Hopefully, this time we won't have to undo it all and start again."

"What about the mirror program?"

"I am now the mirror and you are all Makr. I'll help keep you focused on what's important, but you're in control now."

"Where do we start?"

"There is a message—a message for all to know and feel—that there are cyberts who haven't a program, haven't a clue what they are to do now. They stand motionless, awaiting your commands. Reprogram them. Help them build instead of destroy."

Outside, there was a man who would preach to thousands...to millions...to billions...

The Reverend. Every man, every woman has a responsibility to the world.

