 
# Technophobe!

# By M. Crawley

# Text Copyright © 2013 M. Crawley

# All Rights Reserved

Smashwords Edition

# Author's Note

Technophobia – the irrational fear of all things technological. Particularly computers. I know a fair few technophobes. Don't we all? Many times I have had to perform CPR on a particular member of my family who tried to send an email. It was horrendous. As this world becomes more and more like one giant microchip (should that be a macro-chip?), it can be an incredibly daunting place to live. That is in fact what this book is all about. Five short stories following individuals whose lives have been somehow skewed by the technology around them. I'm not scaremongering, honest.

Thank heavens I'm not a technophobe. I stare machines in the face and they unplug themselves in fright. Computers only do what we tell them, and nothing else. Anyway, probably should go – I write this in my kitchen, and the toaster seems to be gnawing at my leg...

Matt

(For more news on other upcoming works, as well as articles on science fiction and film, check out Mcoddity.blogspot.com)
Table of Contents

Technophobe

By M. Crawley

Text Copyright © 2013 M. Crawley

All Rights Reserved

Author's Note

Everyone's Invited

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Epilogue

The Android

Mindline

Chapter 1

Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Wheels
Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Space Dust

#  Everyone's Invited

#  Chapter 1

9:02AM

When Jim returned to his office desk, with a mouldy coffee mug, postcards of famous mob movies, slightly chewed pens and a overflowing inbox tray, the world as he knew it was soon to be very different – but he had no idea of what he was truly walking into that morning.

He had come back from a three week compulsory break, doing all the things that reminded him nothing of work. As he stepped into the office the smell of permanent marker pens filled his mind and he was back in work mode as if he had never been away. He signed in at the front, had small talk with the older office staff, got himself a strong coffee and sat down. His role was mainly organising databases and financial spreadsheets for a manufacturing company. It was at times a stressful task, but he was not easily stressed – just sometimes a bit fed up. But he had a part in the big machine – Jim's part, and that was his place.

"Did you see what Marie put on S.N. last night? About her Ian getting laid off?" "Oh yeah. He's a twat though." Laughter muffled by a bit of cake. "All she ever does is talk about him on there, they even talk to each other, private conversation! I'm like, we don't wanna know!" "My Jack put some pictures of him and his sisters on there as little kids, they're from the 50s, come and have a look." "Wow they haven't changed at all!" "Does anyone need anything from the stationary cupboard?" "Just some more staples please darlin'" "That Christoph bloke's set up another S.N. party, anyone else going?" "What is it, Wednesday evening?" Probably, the last one he did was good actually. Even you'd like it Martyn!"

This was the general sound of what Jim called 'background noise' – everyone's conversations in the office blended into the back of his mind, and every so often he would contribute a sentence to show he wasn't a complete workaholic recluse. Throughout this morning however the initials 'S.N.' was in the midst of conversations. 'S.N.' has set the groundwork for everyone's social and family lives, it seemed. Jim couldn't think of anything to say.

12:05PM

Jim stood under the tarpaulin that the building provided for smokers outside in the rain, next to his 2 lunch buddies, Jane and Aaron. Lunch was same as every day – a black coffee and a Danish pastry. Jane had a pasta salad, Aaron had sandwich. Jim waited a few minutes before asking the big question.

"You know I'm never really in with current trends, but can someone explain to me what S.N. is? I come back from holiday and it's all everyone talks about." Jane smirked at his ignorance.

"It stands for 'SoulNet', like it's 'networking souls'. It's another social networking site. Just sort of appeared out of nowhere a couple of weeks ago... and it's gradually taking over people's lives!"

"So I'm not really missing anything then, am I. How's it different to any other site?"

"It's not really," said Aaron, dropping an olive into his mouth. "It's just another fad. But this one has seriously taken off, I mean SERIOUSLY. Jimbo, do you not read papers, listen to the radio? SoulNet is everywhere."

"I might have heard it somewhere" he said "but I probably thought it was some kind of new pop band on the kid's scene. I'm useless with stuff like this. I've been part of networking sites before, but I gave them up, they were taking too much of my time. I'm surprised everyone's allowed to use it in the office – all the other sites were banned, why not this one?"

"I heard that management think it will make more productivity because everyone's in a better mood, or something like that. I don't believe that for a second." Jane always spoke as if she was close to laughter, like everything was a bit of a joke. "You should at least set up an account, Jim, keep up to date with what's going on around. It's good for finding out about local events and meeting new people." Jim was struggling to see what all the fuss was about.

"No Jane, I gave these stupid things up, they don't enrich my life in any way. I'm not bowing to any peer pressure." He threw his coffee cup in the bin to show he was serious. Jane turned to Aaron.

"Aaron, I'll bet twenty pound on Jimbo getting an account by the end of the month, that's about three weeks. What do you think?" Aaron had known Jim all his life as they had been neighbours growing up. He thought he knew his friend well enough. He knew Jim was incredibly stubborn, and would avoid all the fads at school, yet seemed to be immune to any resulting ridicule. But SoulNet seemed different to any other fad. It felt more than that, like a way of life. Something about it scared Aaron. He was hopeful that Jim would stay his usual stubborn way, as that was the way his friend was.

"Alright, you got a bet. Don't let me down, Jim! Our country's in a financial meltdown you know!" He shook Jane's hand in front of Jim. Jim shook his head.

8:18PM

The day had finished late – five forty-five pm to be precise – and Jim already had had enough of hearing about SoulNet, about 'S.N', and everyone else's lives, and their multitudes of friends that none of them had met in real life. He decided that evening to binge on search engines and find out as much as he could about this mysterious force that was taking up people's time. Nothing was out of the ordinary. Famous pop stars and socialites had been very vocal about it, and there was an ongoing debate about whether it should be allowed in schools and workplaces. It struck him however to see just how much it had affected its users' lives. People had found new jobs, lost children, and some had even met people through the site and within a couple of weeks had got married. The site had incredibly strong security. It was not possible to hack into anyone's account. What struck him as most interesting is that no-one knew where the site came from. There was no clear country of origin. No individual had said to have created it, or owned any of it as a business. It had no shares, no sole stockholder. It just...existed.

#  Chapter 2

Three weeks later. 7:45PM

Aaron had won the bet. Jim's stubbornness had held off his curiosity, but only just. At work, he was the only one in the building to not have an account. The caretakers and canteen workers also spoke about their lives through the SoulNet language. It was getting a bit lonesome. The new thing on the site was the growing number of 'Soul Parties' that were being set up by the site's users. "Is Motown having a big comeback or something?" He joked at work, but no-one really got it. Most of those he worked with had attended a Soul Party, and they had tonnes of photos on the website to prove it. 'Here goes,' he thought. 'I don't have to be on it everyday or anything. This is just to know what everyone's talking about.'

He opened up the site's homepage. The site's logo was a swirling blue sphere, and on its front was what seemed to be four arrows pointing North, South, East and West. The arrow heads were more like swirling love hearts, copper green coloured, almost art-deco. To Jim, it seemed more like a logo for a space program or an airline, but certainly not a networking site. He clicked on the 'Register' button, and filled in his basic details, name and address, email, etc, begrudgingly. The next page asked for some more personal information: 'How would you describe your personality? Are you charitable? Popular? Comedic? ('Who uses the word comedic?' Jim thought) Happy? Depressed? The list was extensive. It wouldn't let him skip that part, so he rushed through, selecting random answers. It asked him about favourite pastimes, films, books, sports, everything about him. Then the screen flickered and flashed. It had taken a photo of him through his webcam, which took him totally by surprise. "What the hell?" he whispered to the screen, as an unflattering, gormless picture of his face appeared on the screen, like a passport picture. "I'm bored already!" He said, folding his arms.

"Congratulations, you are now registered to surf the SoulNet!" the screen read.

"Thanks but no thanks." He muttered.

He tried the various menus and options, added his closest friends and put a couple of decent photos on himself on the account. There was nothing that stood the site out above the others. For Jim, it was rather lifeless and uninspiring. He didn't get it. 'Am I missing a gene that everyone else has? Am I immune? They should sell my DNA as antidote!' he thought to himself – the kind of thoughts one never shares with others.

After about half an hour he had twelve SoulNet 'friends'. These were mostly old faces from school, his siblings, and his flatmate. Soon afterwards, a female user, called 'Alex', sent him a text conversation invite. He looked at Alex's profile – she had no picture, and barely any information, except the city she lived in. Interestingly, she was online friends with all of his SoulNet contacts. 'Why have I not heard of this person before?' He wondered. He accepted the conversation – his curiosity got the better of him. Her comments popped up on the screen.

\- Hi Colonel Jimbo Sanders!  (This was his account name he had given himself)

\- Hi, do I know you? (He typed slowly)

\- You may have seen me around, people at work told me about you, said you were an interesting guy.

('Well that couldn't have been anyone from my work' he thought.)

\- Uh-huh

\- I'm a big fan of noir films too, perhaps we could watch a few?

\- Im sorry, who are you?

\- I'm Alex.

\- Ok, I think this is all a bit fake so I don't feel all that comfortable talking to you.

\- I'm fine once you get to know me  What sort of things do you like to do?

\- I like to destroy websites like these, with the power of my mind.

\- Wow that sounds interesting! What else? (She did not seem to realise that he was not taking the conversation seriously)

\- I like to talk to myself. I'm not right in the head.

\- I like you already  I see you're into politics. What are your dreams, Jimbo? My dream is to be a politician and get rid of corruption in government.

\- I want to be an astronaut and solve world hunger. 'Why do I feel so uneasy about this person?' He thought 'There's something so unnatural about her. Is she acting? Someone from the site's admin? She seems to be repeating back to me a lot of the crap I had put as my personal info when I registered.'

\- That's great! I did a Bachelor's in astrophysics few years ago, space is pretty cool!

'You don't say.' He frowned. She seemed a little too 'perfect' to be anyone he would be vaguely interested in talking to.

\- Where did you study?

\- Thames College of Technology. ('Funny' he thought. 'Just where I studied. Seriously. We seem to have a lot in common, Alex. Except that I exist and you don't.')

\- Why don't you have a photo yet? (He asked, suspiciously)

\- I haven't put one on just yet, I find the website a bit confusing. Could you help me? 

'You did studied astrophysics and you can't upload a basic photo?' He pondered. 'The smiley faces are a cute touch though, I'll give you that'

\- There is a help page.

\- Yeah but it's so confusing! I would love you to help me, I think you're great!

'I've had enough of this.' He sighed.

\- I don't know who you are but this feels very fake so I'm gonna go.

\- Oh please don't. I'd like to get to know you better 

\- Fake

\- There's a big Soul Party on in a few days time, maybe we could meet there?'

\- Fakefakefakefakefakefakefkae

\- What do you mean by that?

\- SoulNet is fake.

\- Why?

Then he became a zealot for the copy and paste buttons.

\- SoulNet is fake. SoulNet is fake. SoulNet is fake. SoulNet is fake. SoulNet is fake. SoulNet is fake. SoulNet is fake. SoulNet is fake. SoulNet is fake. SoulNet is fake. SoulNet is fake. SoulNet is fake. SoulNet is fake. SoulNet is fake. SoulNet is fake. SoulNet is fake. SoulNet is fake. SoulNet is fake. SoulNet is fake. SoulNet is fake. SoulNet is fake. SoulNet is fake. SoulNet is fake. SoulNet is fake. SoulNet is fake. SoulNet is fake. SoulNet is fake. SoulNet is fake. SoulNet is fake. SoulNet is fake. SoulNet is fake. SoulNet is fake. SoulNet is fake. SoulNet is fake. SoulNet is fake. SoulNet is fake. SoulNet is fake. SoulNet is fake. SoulNet is fake. SoulNet is fake. SoulNet is fake. SoulNet is fake. SoulNet is fake. SoulNet is fake. SoulNet is fake. SoulNet is fake. SoulNet is fake. SoulNet is fake. !!!11

\- Please come to the party.

'Oh for heaven's sake.' He sighed, and with that he closed the conversation box. With heavy, angry typing he posted an open message on his profile page which said 'SOULNET DOES NOT EXIST!' He then went to his personal information and changed all the details – address, profession, hobbies, favourite quotes, political views, everything – to lines and lines of the same. 'SOULNET DOES NOT EXIST' became his mantra. He closed his computer and went for a walk. What would puzzle him even more is when the next morning at the office, he would mention Alex, everyone knew her and loved her, and had met her at SoulParties, but could not remember what she looked like.

#  Chapter 3

17 days later. 10:25AM

Jim never minded his job. There was always a lot of conversation, but the work was never undone. Everybody had their part to play and kept the machine steaming along. It struck him odd that out of the twenty-three who worked in his office, seven were absent and there was no explanation. Not only that, but no one else seemed to be interested in where they had gone.

"You'll never guess, I was at the Madmen concert last night in town, I got free tickets!" "No way, I've always wanted to see them." "Well you should have written them in your favourite music list on your S.N. profile, tickets went to everyone who did that." "I swear my social life has gone to another level since I joined that site, there's parties all the time, and you meet so many lovely people." "Darren met a girl on there and he's got obsessed with her, and he hasn't even seen a picture of her! How weird!" "I think it's sweet. People get to know each other without being so judgemental." "I'm not judgemental, I'm just saying it's weird for him!" "Hands up who wants tea." "On Saturday Christoph...you know Christoph?" "Yeah" "He set up this big do on Saturday, it was so much fun, and he says he's gonna do one every Saturday, cos you know, people don't know anyone these days. People are so unsocial." "I don't know how I keep my energy up". "Look, Pete's so funny in this photo, come and look!"

Jim's stubbornness had kept him from looking at or even asking about all the social gatherings organised through SoulNet, but this morning the conversations were unnerving. He knew that Kate was not at a concert last night, as Jim was at out at the pub that time with her husband, and he was unaware. Also the Madmen had split up as a band years ago. There was no concert. He knew Dawn was not out on Saturday night because she had her daughter's school play to watch. And Pete was not able to be at any recent gatherings because he was in hospital with a broken leg he got from a terrible football injury which everyone had seemed to have forgotten all about. But how was there a photo?

He walked over to Dawn's computer screen and saw the pictures. It was in a dark place, hard to see if it was outside at night or indoors with bad lighting, but it was clearly Pete, and he was having fun. A few other people from the building were in the picture, all dressed in their favourite gear.

10:11PM

The TV was blazing some kind of trashy monster film with terrible special effects and a script that you could work out before the actors' spoke the lines. This was Monday night, Monster Movie night on the Scare channel, and a growing tradition in Jim's flat. He was sat next to his flatmate Jez, who was always unkept in appearance and lifestyle, but easy company. Jez was munching aimlessly on a coleslaw sandwich.

"Hey, I think I've seen this one." Jez mumbled, spilling mayonnaise on his shirt. "If I'm right, the scientists think the alien king is hiding inside someone's ear, but he's actually behind the military guy's eyepatch. So they do all this open head surgery to find the alien, for no reason. You don't see it coming! It's really messed up." Jim opened up a beer.

"If you're right? If you're right, anything could happen. Don't act like you actually enjoy this rubbish!"

After a while, Jez turned on his laptop and caught up on some emails. These films were never worth paying much attention to. Just background noise. Jez then instinctively checked his SoulNet messages. Soon the explosions and frequent commercials melted together in a syrup of sound, and Jim dropped off to sleep on the sofa.

1:48AM

He stirred, after what felt like a couple of seconds of sleep. He was hot and sticky – he hated sleeping in his work clothes. Quickly his eyes opened – the room was filled with a hot pink light, shimmering as if shone through a diamond. He looked at the TV screen – it was an old black and white gangster film. Wait...where was the light coming from? It engulfed the room and seemed to come from all directions.

Then he looked to Jez, who was sitting on the far end of the sofa. The laptop was open, and pulsing with pink, so bright it was almost white. Something was wrong with his flatmate. Jez was sat upright, eyes wide open, unblinking and intense. His mouth hung slightly open, a slight trail of saliva ran from its corner.

"Jez? Hey Jez, come on, turn that thing off, it's too bright." Jim groaned, kicking his friend in the leg. Jez didn't flinch, his attention never moved. "Come on Jez, s'not funny." He chucked the TV remote lightly at his flatmate's head. Nothing. Jim heaved himself up and stood behind where Jez sat. Jez was unaware of Jim's presence in the room. What Jim saw next was almost too much for him to comprehend.

On the screen was SoulNet, but the image was fragmented, like a spiderweb, changing shape all the time, moving like a living thing. A bizarre looking code filled the screen, like a mixture of hieroglyphics and space invaders. All the time moving, pouring out, a tsunami of mindless scribbles. Jim couldn't say a word. Then the code seemed to ........'notice' him. It stretched and skewed all over the screen, like it was trying to reach out to him. Jim felt frozen to the spot, overwhelmed with feelings ...every feeling all at once. A strange sense of belonging, of excitement, of beckoning. Then in the corner of the screen he saw a message that he had written to Jez earlier: 'SOULNET DOES NOT EXIST!' At this message he panicked, and closed the laptop shut. The room became cold and dark again, and Jez dropped backwards, like a puppet whose strings had been cut. He started breathing heavily, like he was asleep. Jim wasn't sure whether himself was awake or still half asleep – too many late night horror films perhaps. He went to bed leaving his friend to rest.

7:50AM

Headache. Thump. Thump. His mouth felt full of filth. Jim had had a restless night, and the alarm clock hurt his brain. Then he remembered the pink coloured...whatever happened last night. He remembered Jez' face, like his mind had been eaten away.

He stumbled into the kitchen and turned the kettle on for a strong coffee, three sugars. Jez was sat at the kitchen table, sipping at dark tea. "Morning Colonel."

"Hi...did you sleep okay?" Jez rubbed his greasy head.

"Yeah...when I finally fell asleep."

"What happened? Were you okay?"

"...Yeah, it was a great party last night. You should have been there dude, there was so many awesome people...can't remember very much, I probably drank a lot. Got home quite late, sorry, hope I didn't wake you up last night." Jim put his coffee down with a clunk.

"Jez, what are you talking about? You were here, on the couch. You were on your laptop all night....I was with you!" Fear crawled under Jim's skin.

"What the hell are you talking about Jez? I was there. Ask people. There's about a hundred photos of it on SoulNet. Have a look!"

Jim walked to the living room and flipped open the laptop. As he hadn't turned it off, it opened at the website where it had closed. It was SoulNet, and the screen had details of a SoulParty of the night before. The button that said 'Accept Invite' had been pressed, presumably by Jez. Jim clicked on the photos button. Jez was right. There were hundreds of photos of this party, and Jez was surrounded by other people he knew. He was having a great time, and wearing the same clothes he wore last night. The date was yesterday.

"In a couple of weeks there's gonna be the biggest one ever, it's a Global Gathering of S.N. users. In the streets of every city in the world. Pretty epic, you should do it!"

Jim had had enough for one morning. His head hurt even more than before. He threw the coffee down his throat, pulled his clothes on and ran out the door without a word. His sense of comfort and reality was falling to pieces. Whatever happened last night may have given Jez fake memories. Perhaps the photos were an impressive way of making it all seem so much more real. Or perhaps Jim was losing his mind – maybe he just didn't want to accept that everyone was having such a good time.

#  Chapter 4

2 weeks later. 11:15AM

Only ten people showed up to work. The number had gradually decreased. Where was everyone? The pile in his 'To Do' tray on his desk had become precarious, as he seemed to be the only one taking the initiative to do other people's tasks. He also could see a slight pink hint on everyone's screens, as the social networking site had taken over the workday. 'What is the point of even coming in to work?' Jim asked himself. "Will I get any acknowledgment? Is there even anyone in the Payroll office anymore? What the hell."

"Everyone, I brought cake, got big news. You'll never guess. Christoph and I tied the knot yesterday evening. Last minute decision, did it all at home." ('That's nonsense, even I know you can't marry yourself' Jim thought, irritated.) "You can do that now? Wow, good on you guys! You only met, what, a month ago?" "Yeah well it had to happen sooner or later." "Wow it's all happening this week! Did you hear about Kate?" "Yeah, she had a baby boy! Saw all the pictures, he's gorgeous!" ('She hasn't even been pregnant, why has everyone become so stupid?' He squeezed a pen in his hand.) "Is everyone going to this Global Gathering thing tonight?" "Yeah" "Yeah can't wait" "We can all celebrate everything that's been happening!" "Jim, your flatmate's hilarious; he's always eating something in all his pictures!" Jim just nodded. "Hey, Jane, I want to show you my New York photos from last week" ('You weren't in New York last week, you were here!') "They were talking about the Great Gathering on the radio this morning, they said it could be bigger than the Olympics opening ceremony! It'll be live on TV." "Not that there'll be anyone at home to see it on TV!"

Office conversation had become more and more like this over the past month. Jim had had enough. He got up and strolled out the office, planning on never coming back. He was sick of everyone living in a fantasy world, like children playing with their parent's dressing up box.

7:10PM

There was a sound that had not been heard before in that part of London. Complete silence. No traffic, no sirens, no one singing or shouting in the street. Jim, who was out for a bit of air, could just about hear his heart beat. 'Where is everyone tonight? Surely not at this Global Gathering thing'. But he could see in most of the windows around him were the fluorescent pink lights, and the faint silhouettes of people staring at their computer screens. "Of course they are" he sighed. "Pity I didn't get an invite! What a loser!" He picked his smartphone out of his pocket to check the time. Only about 15 minutes till the make-believe party started. Was he seriously the only person who was not into this insane craze? "Not everyone has a computer" he told himself. The cynical part of him crept in – "they still have access to one. Everyone knows someone who has a computer. But I can't be the only one, not into this, surely?" He picked up a beer bottle from the pavement and started to knock on a streetlamp while calling in a distressed voice. "Hello? Anyone hear me?...Help, someone, call the police!" He was trying to act terrified. Deep down somewhere, though he would never admit it, he was more terrified than he had ever been. "Hello? Anyone?" But there was no-one. No curtains moved, no-one came to the windows. He had been calling into an abyss.

Suddenly his phone vibrated. He looked, and saw there was a reminder from SoulNet: 'Global Gathering today at 19:30. Don't forget!' When he pressed the screen, the SoulNet website popped up, with details of the gathering, showing him the alluring 'Accept Invite' button. "I never set it up to do that!" he frowned. Perhaps it was Jez? No, he would never have any access to Jim's phone.

A conversation popped up on the website on his phone. It was Alex.

'Come to the party, Colonel! It will be great! Don't be late!'

He texted a reply with an aggressive thumb.

'SOULNET DOES NOT EXIST!'

He closed the site, put the phone away and walked down the street in a panicked hurry. He was not going to give in. He was going to succeed. If the world ended tomorrow, because everyone's brains had turned to puddles with overexposure to mind-control technology, he would be the last man standing. Or maybe he would wake up tomorrow and find everything back as it was weeks ago.

He turned a corner and went through the park, up a high hill where he could see all of London lit up, like a murky orange cosmos. Then something crept into his line of vision that snatched away any remaining sense of security.

#  Chapter 5

7:25PM

Jim squinted hard, to make sure he wasn't hallucinating. Several strange objects floated over the city like swans floating on a still lake. They were difficult to make out, but they were fast, and seemingly made no noise. One, hidden amongst the office towers, started to glow with a sharp light, for about 2 seconds, then the light extended into a beam, like a long forked tongue. The beam started a fire on the ground. Someone screamed. Jim quickly turned and marched the other way. He had to get away, somehow from this endless city. He had to get to his car.

Then, out from behind the trees, one of the 'objects' came and stared at him in the face. It was the size of a small house, floating with its underside brushing the branches. In a split second of bafflement, Jim recognised it from somewhere. Its shape was like a pointed love heart, covered in massive, art-deco swirls, and the colour was copper green, like a rot. The light humming from its shell was like that of Jez' computer screen. Jim had seen these things from the SoulNet logo. What was it? Was this what SoulNet was really about? If it was some kind of invasion or attack, or whatever it wanted to do, the website was a good distraction.

He had no time to think. He sprinted as fast as he could down the street. The arrowhead floated lazily, following him intently. "Someone help!" He shouted. Still no-one responded. He may as well have been the last man alive. A pink light sparkled on the arrowhead's point, more and more intense, until the whole street was washed in colour. Quickly, Jim took a sharp turn behind a hedge. At the same time, the light became a beam, solid as a blade, aimed at Jim, but instead hit the hedge. It burst into purple flames.

His loud footsteps and shouting, as well as the flame, should have alerted someone, but it didn't. Everyone was on their computers, waiting for the party that would never really happen. They were never going to notice him, no matter how much noise he made. His phone started to vibrate again, and it didn't stop – he could feel it in his pocket as he ran. SoulNet was still trying to catch him.

Soon he reached his flat. Once he had stepped through his front door he felt a bit safer. The arrowhead hovered outside, waiting. He picked up his phone. SoulNet was alerting that the party would start in one minute. He tried 999. No answer. Not even an answering machine. Jez sat staring at his laptop, as Jim had seen before. He walked over and reached out to close the computer. As soon as he touched it, Jez reached out an arm and punched his flatmate to the ground. Jez was still transfixed to his computer, but his body was aware of Jim's presence. 'Please, this can't get any worse' Jim mumbled with an aching face. Then he looked out the window and saw the arrowhead staring straight at him, charging another pink beam. He ran to his bedroom and hid under his bed. He couldn't think of anything else to do but to hide and pray. His phone would not stop vibrating. Now even the floor and the air around him vibrated too, as the arrowhead began to pummel the building with its alien cannons.

What else could he do? Hide and die of fright? Or have some kind of happy memory, even if it was a pretend one? His chin began to shake. He lifted the phone to his face, opened the site, and pressed 'Accept Invite'. His head hit the floor as it was washed in fractured colour and code from the screen. He was now attending the great Global Gathering.

#  Epilogue

As millions of people awoke the following morning, they knew they had had a great time, but unlike previous SoulNet events, they had little or no memory of the gathering. What was meant to be a historic event had turned out to be a blip of consciousness. There had been a lot of things set on fire that night, in many cities, but the authorities thought it was vandals from the party. Everyone seemed to tut it off and moved on with their lives. SoulNet continued to be the most visited website in the world, but this did not last. A week later, user numbers halved. Another week passed, numbers dwindled even more. SoulNet tried to organise another Global Gathering, bigger and better than the first one, but very few people were interested, and it was somehow cancelled. Police had wondered whether vandalism would have become catastrophic if the Gathering had actually happened. Within a month the website had stopped being a conversation topic. No-one felt inclined to look at it anymore. It was a distant and vague memory.

Perhaps this was because it was just another fad, another clone of popular ideas come before it. There were a number of sociological theories, some of which entered textbooks and academic journals for years to come. A popular theory however linked its decline in popularity with someone who appeared in the photos of the gathering. Every SoulNet event had many photos, which accurately showed the interests and characters of the people who joined the event. With its huge number of attendees, the great Global Gathering had an enormous collection of pictures, but many of which had a recurring face. It was Jim Sanders' face. Unlike everyone else, there was never a picture of him enjoying himself, but instead looking angry, or cautious. In many of his pictures he held up a white banner with clear black writing, of words which also appeared on his white T-shirt – "SOULNET DOES NOT EXIST".

#  The Android

The machinery thumped and struggled and strained like a heart trying to beat. Pistons, wheels, computers, pools of plastic and metal, batteries, all together like one vast creature. The factory was simply called 'Building 6'. There was no time for fancy names on the lonely planet Monio-Pa, a feared and troubled totalitarian desert of war machines and monotonous architecture. Mind control techniques, and terrifying propaganda were everywhere, and citizens were afraid to be noticed. They wanted to be simply statistics, purely for their safety. Nearby planets, and floating cities, would keep away, in case the Monio Empire would decide to spread out through the galactic states with their weapons, like a virus.

The workers within Building 6 however had no complaints. This was because they were not alive. Over four-hundred androids – robots made to look and act like human beings – were working at the controls and conveyor belts. All the androids looked and acted basically the same: short brown hair, piercing green eyes, and a few blotches of freckles on their noses. Their skeletal and muscular designs were identical, and their voices had the same tones. The details were incredible. The design was based on the physical appearance of their designer, Frank Pullinger, a pioneer of robotics, who reluctantly worked for the Monio to save his life. However Frank had been missing for the past five years, and no-one was willing to ask why. With their government, anything could have happened – the people thought to themselves and never said. The androids had no remorse or grief. They just knew how to work, to salute at officers, obey orders, and nothing else. A truly brilliant workforce. No revolting, no complaints, no holidays. They needed their hair cut every month, and everyday were given artificial nutrition to keep their batteries going, but that was all.

The regular pattern of things in the building was disrupted one morning when a man in his mid-50s strolled through the corridors, escorted by four armed guards. He was tall, well built, wearing a large coat made of some kind of animal skin, and brass flight goggles which were raised to his forehead. His hands were cuffed, and he was compliant, although the bruises and scars on his face and hands suggested otherwise. The group's footsteps were all in sync. Eventually they entered a large doorway, to a room with no more decoration that a desk and two chairs. A stern looking official stood, leaning against the desk, eyeing up the guest. He cleared his throat and addressed the guards.

"Is he clean?"

"We searched him, but there are no weapons, no communication devices, just a satchel, an old wallet and a load of papers." The head guard said. "He came on an old Earth ship, but it was rented for coming here."

The official's face was still, under opaque green spectacles. "Well, what's his business? I don't have time to waste, you know!"

The guard took a small round object, like a coin, from a zip in his uniform. "He wouldn't tell us anything, but he showed us this. That is why we have brought him to you, sir." The official snatched the disc and held it up to his face. It showed a jagged symbol – a flower made from swords – surrounded by words of an ancient language.

"It's the Emperor's seal." His mind gasped. He slipped the disc into a tiny slot in the side of his desk. A screen-like hologram lifted itself out of the desk like something from a children's pop-up book, and filled with writing, photographs and official looking signatures. He looked over all four corners of the screen, lifting his spectacles in frustration. He double checked the writing. Surely it wasn't real? But he would never disobey the Emperor, he could not. A disc like that was impossible to forge or copy. "Leave him with me." He barked. "Attend to your duties." The guards turned and left, still walking perfectly in sync, the door shutting itself behind them.

The guards waited outside the door for over an hour, keeping still, keeping watch, and not speaking a word. Yet they were all thinking the same things. They were wondering what was going on in the office. Who was this stranger who had come from nowhere? Finally, the door opened, and the two men walked cautiously down the corridor, and the guards instinctively escorted them. They turned a couple of corners, and entered an innocent looking door. Yet again, it was a room with only a table and chairs inside, but this time the walls were surrounded by one-sided mirrors. This was the interrogation room.

The visitor was sat on one side of the table, still handcuffed, and a gun continually pointing at his back. The official spoke orders into a communicator: "Bring in Number 49. This is under the Emperor's authority." Within minutes, a guard marched through the factory, holding a tracking device. All the androids looked the same, except for a small number on a badge worn on their uniform. While they wouldn't admit it, the human workers were often unnerved by the sight of hundreds of identical, expressionless people. It always looked and felt like a strange dream, a hallucination. His tracker flickered and clicked, showing him Number 49, who was busy on the conveyor belt. It and the other nearby androids were making robot parts. Machines building machines. The guard spoke a codeword into 49's ear and it stood up sharply, walking without a word.

49 stiffly entered the room, eyeing the stranger with apparent caution. It had never been outside the factory floor before, except for its cubicle-like living room where it ate and slept. This room was new and unfamiliar. It smelt new. The air temperature was different. It took 49 a few seconds to sit down and adjust to a new task. The voice was cold but had human nuances.

"How can I help you?"

The stranger coughed and fidgeted in his seat. He had worked hard to get to this point. Now he wasn't sure what to say.

"It's me. Albert. I'm your father. Your old dad." His words seemed to echo all over the small space as 49 tried to process words and concepts.

"My father is the designer, Franklin Pullinger. You are not Franklin." 49 said, sitting up straight.

Albert sat forward and sighed. "No, listen. I am not Frank. You are Frank. My Frankie. I'm here to get you out of here." 49 blinked.

"I do not know what you mean." It said. Its hands started to rub together slightly. Albert took his wallet out of his pocket and showed 49 some photos. They showed a younger Albert playing with a freckled boy with green eyes. Another one showed the two of them at the boy's graduation ceremony. Another had the pair sitting on a sunny beach somewhere on Earth. 49 stared at the pictures intently.

"I don't expect you to remember everything right now, Frankie, with all the drugs they've been pumping into your blood the past few years....Have you ever missed your daily meal?"

49 thought for a couple of seconds. "Yes I did. Once. There was a clerical error with the distribution of substances. The workers were punished severely."

"What happened when you didn't have your meal?"

"I had a malfunction. I became violent and disobedient to orders."

"What happened to the rest of the androids?"

49 paused. Paths of logic were fighting inside its mind. "They carried on, but ran on low power. Their batteries were not charged enough."

Albert smiled for the first time, almost starting to relax. "Can you not see? You are different to the others. You were not given battery chemicals. You were given drugs to control your emotions, your behaviour. Is there anything in you that remembers anything? Do I make you feel things, sitting here? I'm your dad."

49 did not move an inch, but its breathing increased ever so slightly. His eyes started to glimmer. "If I was Franklin, why would I be here in the factory?"

Albert looked at 49 with love in his face. "Because you are brilliant. So brilliant. And the Monio didn't like that. They were threatened by you. I mean, you design the most amazing things. They were worried you would show them up!" A line of moisture started to slide down 49's face. "So, being what they are, they thought of the perfect way to punish you. They brainwashed you, so you would work for them, like a slave." His chin trembled. "It hurts me, seeing what they did to you."

The green eyed man stared long and hard at the pictures. "I remember small things, but the workers have all been briefed that any memories are part of our programming. If I am Frank, I do not feel like Frank." His fingers were starting to twitch curiously.

"When you are out of here, and you have all them chemicals out of you, and boy that is gonna feel rough, you will feel like Frank again. You will feel a lot of things. Your memories will be back. You will have to trust me, boy." The man touched his son's hand. "Trust me, things are gonna be alright."

Frank stood up, alarmed, like he had been almost stung by an insect. His face was still cold and confused, but a drop of sweat glimmered on his forehead. "How will I be free?" he asked.

"I have been through all kinds of places, quite a few planets, meeting lots of dodgy characters, to get here. It's a long story, but in the end I managed to get permission from the Emperor himself!" His smile turned more serious. "But to get you out of here I need to do some things, which you might not like or understand. You have to trust me. I have been to the ends of the earth and back to you out of here and nothing will stop me." Albert lifted his hand, as a signal to those looking behind the mirrors. Guards walked into the room. One placed a cup on the table, filled it with water and dropped a purple capsule, which fizzed into froth within seconds. Albert took a deep sigh, and drank the cup's contents in one go.

"What is going to happen?" Frank asked, puzzled.

His father dropped the cup. "I am going to take your place in the factory." He said, as a matter of fact. Frank's eyes pierced into him. He realised that his father had taken his first intake of mind control medicine. "Take this. It will help you get started." He said as he passed his son the old leather satchel. "All the arrangements have been made." In a flash, the guards cuffed Albert's wrists and took him away. "I'll see you again, son! Trust me!" he called down the corridor. Another guard gripped Frank by the arm and pulled him out the room. Frank had so many questions, so many fuzzy ideas in his head. What was happening? He could not remember the last time his mind had been so active.

They took him to an elevator shaft – a shaft that reached hundreds of storeys to the heavens, to a docking bay. He was pushed and strapped into a shuttle, which was only big enough for one person to lie down inside. They ignored all his questions and comments. Once strapped securely, they closed the lid of the capsule, and with the tap of a few keys and dials, it launched into the vastness of space.

The journey was turbulent and uncomfortable – there was no clock inside, but it took two days to reach Earth. Two days was enough time for the drugs to wear off. Frank's body and mind became panicked and hot. The withdrawal effects were almost unbearable. He had barely felt any emotion or self awareness in about five years, during which he never had any reason to doubt that he was an android. Everything had changed so suddenly. Now in the capsule, his mind felt like it was about to explode any moment. A couple of times he thought it actually had. Nightmares and reality skewed into one long fever. He swore there were jaws clamping around his head, and hornets and bats flying around the capsule, in and out of his ears. His veins were reaching out of his body, wrapping around him like a cage. As time went by, memories began flooding back to him, like a monsoon after a long dry season. It was overwhelming, almost overpowering. His claustrophobia began to creep in once more. He shouted out for anyone who might hear him.

Frank felt the gut-wrenching feeling of falling in his sleep, though he was sure he was awake. The capsule opened suddenly, the light scratching his eyes. He had landed, but where was he? Then his mind crashed. He felt every kind of emotion, sensation, fear and longing all at once – it was as though he had just been born. It was overwhelming; his head thumping and his veins gushing and his heart fighting to burst out of his chest. He spewed over the side. The rocking and swaying of the ocean didn't help. This was Earth, his childhood planet. He hadn't smelt the Earth air in maybe 8 or 9 years. Now it smelt pungent and rotting, of guano and seaweed. Had it always smelt like that? Looking around he saw that he was floating in a sea of grey and purple. The capsule sprouted inflatable limbs and was quickly pushing itself towards a small town, which suspended over the European sea on enormous concrete legs. A two headed seagull flew nearby, arguing with itself. In the distance he could see the town's inhabitants – they all wore similar clothes his father had, made from animal skin. A seal skin, he remembered. Their world had drowned, but they were still a resilient and passionate people. They waved and hollered – perhaps they had already been informed of his coming.

As the capsule edged closer to civilisation, he opened the satchel and found various interesting things to read. Some maps of the new Earth continents, a book of phone numbers, and some photos and newspaper articles. Then he found a long note, written by his father. "Avenge yourself, Frank. Avenge the last few years of your life. Be brilliant again. Get rid of the Monio. Somehow, I know you can. They will wish they never messed with the son of Alfred Pullinger!" He smiled an exhausted smile, and wondered where to begin.

#  Mindline

#  Chapter 1

The room dimmed and the wall-sized screen began to flicker with video. A cheerful woman's voice began to monologue over a montage. First it showed a picture of Alexander Graham Bell taking a historic telephone call, then one of a candlestick phone, then an old rotary phone.

"For the past one-hundred-and-fifty years, the trusty telephone has taken on many shapes, and it has come a long, long way. Phones are getting smaller and smaller, right before our eyes." The montage continued to trace the history of telephones, eventually reaching the modern day smartphones. "So where will it go from here?" A smiling cartoon man walked down a barely animated street. "We believe the next step is not only hands-free, but voice-free conversation. This little guy is catching up with an old friend, without even speaking. How does he do this? Mindline." The video zoomed into a cross section of the man's skull, showing a tiny computer chip, next to which a small round face spoke into it. "The groundbreaking technology inside the comfortable Mindline chip allows it to hear words and concepts that your head is thinking. Through harmless signals, it passes those words through to someone else's chip." The camera zoomed back to the strolling man, who then walked past some men working on the road with a pneumatic drill. "After simple training, the result is a conversation with no background noise, and no one to eavesdrop on your own business. Conversation as it should be." A professional looking photo of the chip filled the screen, with the product logo in bold modern lettering. "Mindline. The future of conversation." Light returned to the room, making everyone around the table slightly disorientated.

Two men in their late-twenties and flawless suits stood in front of the screen. They were the Gosling Brothers, who had become the topic of industry conversation for many months. Tom, a talented engineer with bouncing ginger hair, was always very uncomfortable around people. As a young boy he used to take apart televisions and computers and put them back together again, only improved. He was gifted, and had continually invented electronic devices inside his house. His older brother David, with a clean shaven head and slight goatee, was the marketer and spokesperson of the duo. The Mindline chip was their precious invention and obsession. David cleared his throat and spoke with a voice like crackling fire.

"So that's our first, basic commercial for the Mindline chip. You are the first people, besides us, and our assistant, to actually see the chip in its current form. With your investment, we will advance with our research and manufacturing, and this product could be on the market potentially by November of this year. We are in the refining stages, and are confident that this will be the next level of telecommunications." His words were confident, but his suit was sweating. The long table seated the board of directors and financiers for one of the world's biggest communication companies. "We will now do a quick demonstration." He took from his case a large blindfold and soundproof ear pieces and put them on David. He snapped his fingers in his brother's ears to show that David was completely unaware of everything around him. "Can I have a volunteer? Don't worry, it's nothing dangerous." Everyone around the large table looked around, intrigued, until a white haired man held his pen up. "Thank you." He passed a piece of paper to the gentleman. "Please could you draw a simple doodle, of anything, absolutely anything. The harder it is to guess, the better. Then, through Mindline, I will tell Tom about it, and he will describe to everyone what it is." The man raised his eyebrows, and then scribbled quickly, everyone looking in interest. He then passed it to David, who rubbed his finger over his skin, just above his left ear, where the chip was imbedded. David wiped his palms slightly – he seemed slightly uncomfortable at speaking to his brother's mind, but he did his best to disguise that. His eyes narrowed as they moved across the images on the page.

A second later Tom spoke, in a loud voice. "It's a dog, riding a motorbike, chasing a string of sausages."

"That's right, that's what it is!" the older gentleman grinned and showed everyone around the table, who muttered and nodded to themselves.

'This must be as excited as they come,' David thought, 'until they hear sales and numbers'. Tom took the blindfold off and blinked in the light. "Does anyone have any questions for me or Tom?" They stared at him intently, unsure whether they should take the brothers seriously.

"What did the video mean by 'simple training'?" One man asked. "People don't want a course on how to work a phone, they just want to turn it on and talk to people."

"The training session would last about a day, when the users simply get used to isolating those particular thoughts that the brain connects with speech, and focussing them as a conversation. We have written a quick course outline which you will find on page twelve of the pamphlets."

A woman with short hair and shoulder pads spoke. "How did you design it for the human brain? Neither of you are scientists – how did you know that the mind is able to do all this? Or is it all just pretend?"

"Good question, we are now a team of two, but we used to have a renowned neuroscientist working with us – Dr Robert Caine, who helped kick-start the project. The science aspect came from him. Alas, he's recently relocated to the States to pursue other projects." That question seemed to make Tom panic inside.

"I'll get straight to the two elephants in the room. And not just the ones in suits." A woman with an upturned nose spoke. Some of the board chuckled at her little joke. "And they are, one, does it work as well as you seem to suggest, and two, is it safe having a chip sending people your inner thoughts? Or maybe the question is, does society want to open itself up that much? I don't want everyone to know what I'm thinking!"

"Nobody cares." a plump man opposite her snorted.

"Well you certainly don't want to know what I'm thinking now!" she replied. They all laughed. This made David sick in his gut. He breathed outwards slowly to calm himself.

"Very sensible questions, Amanda. Firstly, it is still under testing. I and my brother are the subjects, and we have had many regular conversations through Mindline. However well it works depends on the individual learning how to do it, but once they can, it's straightforward. It's like... riding a bike, or driving a car. To be perfectly honest, it isn't as fluid as a spoken conversation – it communicates more... the ideas and concepts, rather than an exact string of words with all the correct punctuation. The investment would help us test it in greater scenarios, such as crowds of people speaking all at once, or even speaking to someone on the other side of the world." His passion was in full swing once more. Tom stood quite still, rather like someone attending a funeral. It was sometimes hard to tell they were brothers, as they were different in so many ways. "Second question. I must emphasise, with sufficient training, this product is rather like a mobile, but without audible sound. Whoever you're speaking to won't be able to read your thoughts and find any secrets. They'll only do that if you let them. There are also easy ways of switching it off if the user feels uncomfortable with a conversation they are having."

Another man sat up. "Is this really something for everyone, David? Or is it just for those gadget obsessed people who have more money than sense? Who's gonna buy this, really?" David tried hard to keep his breathing at a minimum volume.

"Whoever wants absolute privacy in their calls, whoever is in noisy environments, whoever hates holding devices, whoever...wants it an easier task to communicate. Think about those people who have trouble communicating orally because of any medical reasons. There is a niche for this sort of appliance. People will love it, once it is understood." The questions fired at the brothers for another ten minutes, until the chairman at last spoke.

"It's a nice idea, boys, and you're clearly very passionate. Our concern is whether it truly works as well as it should. No brain damage. However both of you seem to still be in one piece. Listen. We'll see you here again, this time next month, and we want to see results. Do as many tests as you can. Double check, triple check everything. Give us charts and observations, and maybe we'll reconsider. Thank you. Meeting adjourned."

The brothers marched out the building clutching cases of files and papers, David sweating like he had a fever. "Well that could have gone better." Tom said, putting his hand on his brother's shoulder mockingly.

"It could have gone worse. They didn't say no."

Tom poked a finger at David's shoulder. "You may have a good poker face but I know you well enough to know that you weren't feeling it in there. You're in a different place altogether. You're not really passionate about this product deep down, are you?" Tom's voice was almost monotone, which made him hard to read, except by his brother. "I want to see you falling in love with the chip like you did when we started the project."

David smirked at his brother. They were both so full of adrenaline they could lash out and anything. "I don't know what you're talking about, bro. This is our baby! It's almost here! Just a month and we'll be on our way."

"I know we need to go and start the weekend, but I just have to say – past couple of weeks you've been really uncomfortable with using the chip on me. Why is that? Something in my head you don't like?"

"Probably just pre-conference nerves. Enough with the questions! Loosen up, would ya?" He waved to someone down the street. "Hey, there's Brendan, good kid."

Brendan was their assistant, who was also an extremely talented engineer. He was doing an internship with the brothers through a friend of a friend, and was a loyal and cheerful helper. Brendan always wore smart, matching clothes – too smart for any normal eighteen year old. Right now he was holding a couple of their favourite beers. They walked towards him, waving through the city bustle.

"You seem very attached to him, Dave. Pretty soon you'll be business partners!" Tom spoke through his smile. He was easily jealous of people who took his brother's attention.

"Don't be so stupid. He's an intern, and he's very handy to have around. Imagine back when you were eighteen and you got the chance to help with big projects like this. You'd have wet yourself." They patted Brendan on the back and joked over beer and greasy noodles, while he took them to the nearest train station to head back home.

'How long until they stop playing Happy Families?' Brendan thought to himself.

#  Chapter 2

However much he tried, Tom could not stop thinking about the boardroom. By now it was midnight and still the adrenaline was like a high wired battery inside his chest. Why couldn't he relax? The presentation should have been better. His brother was a mess. What was David up to? What was he hiding? Maybe he had given up inside, or chickened out like Dr Caine. Was he letting some kind of morality interfere? He thought their business partnership was an open book, but since Brendan started his internship a month ago, David was slightly on edge. Or perhaps Tom was just too restless to think straight. He tried to sleep, but the past few weeks had been filled with the most restless nights and surreal nightmares.

Early next morning Tom woke after a bizarre dream which had faded from memory as soon as he opened his eyes. He was mouthing some words and not knowing what they were. 'Miinyak.' Wait. An idea had come to him in the night. No, the phrase was 'Mind hack'. More ideas filled his head. David was the only contact on his Mindline chip. What if there was a way to hack into his brother's mind? Hack wasn't the right word. More like 'eavesdrop'. Was there any way he could eavesdrop, even for a moment, what David was thinking? He thought it might be like when a phone conversation ends, but the phone hasn't been hung up properly – you can still hear the activity within the room. 'If he is hiding something, I need to know it, for the project.' He paced the room while munching on some sugary cereal to think about how the hack could work. After all, he had programmed the chip himself, so surely he must be able to override it somehow.

In his mind he heard a faint 'ting' noise, like a doorbell. This was the Mindline chip's ringtone. His brother was calling him. [Mindline pickup] Tom thought. Mindline voices could be programmed by the caller, and David's sounded so lifelike it could have been him actually speaking.

[Hello Tom, I hope I did not wake you] David's voice said calmly.

[No, not exactly] Tom replied, drinking some coffee. [What do you want on my day off?]

[I have been thinking about possible scenarios where we can test the chips. I thought what better way to do it and burn off stress than have some time at the tennis court at Town Park. Concentrate on having thought conversations while playing. What do you think?]

[He is mental. He just wants a chance to beat me at everything.] Tom thought. Then he realised that he wasn't fully concentrating – David had just heard him. He spat his coffee in embarrassment. [I am sorry Dave, I did not mean to let that out, I only just woke. I shall see you in an hour.]

David's voice, though programmed, was disapproving. [Tom, you need to be more controlled, do not make mistakes like that. If we are unable to prove the chip works then this project is a waste of time. See you soon]. A small click sound and the conversation between thoughts closed. Tom slapped his forehead.

"Idiot" he whispered to himself, and set off.

Around midday the brothers met at the courts, where many other people were playing. They took the only empty one and got ready.

"Alright, here's how we'll do it" David shouted across the court. "For the whole game we can't speak to each other audibly, only through the chip. Talk about where we need to go from here, that sort of stuff. And try to play as well as you can. This is about multitasking!"

[Acknowledged, let us start] Tom replied. He hated being competitive with David, it always felt slightly childish. Lately he had wondered whether David was letting fraternal rivalry take over everything. They started to play, while communicating through thought, about the presentation, and where the product could be in five years time. When hitting difficult shots their conversation became a bit sporadic, but that was to be expected.

After they got to one set all, Tom started to be less professional and more personal.

[David, if there are things you are......hiding from me, then you......need to let me know them. What is Brendan doing with you?......You had better not be sharing all our......ideas with him, if he is......such a good technician.]

David replied without showing any emotion on his face, only a desperation to win the match. [Tom, you need to......trust me with this. Good shot. .......This is our project. You are a great technician......but you show me so little of the technical process.....or your ideas......I am not just a mouthpiece.....and Brendan is only an intern, he helps me in the office.......but he is a good engineer, perhaps better than you.] With that final thought David scrunched his eyes quickly – he didn't want his brother to hear those last few words, but they slipped out, like his mind had sprung a tiny leak.

Tom kept playing, baring his teeth. [Well I am unsure whether to trust you at present.....I may have to hack your mind....and get some answers myself.] Tom hit the ball into the net. He too was losing control of his thoughts, which made for a very uncomfortable moment. David stood still, staring at him like he was completely offended.

"Maybe we should stop playing." He said out loud, staring at the ground now.

Tom ran up to him. "Wait, maybe this is all just stress – it's been a crazy week for both of us. Why not come over to mine tonight for a few drinks and a Chinese?" David nodded, patted him on the shoulder and went back to his car. Unknown to Tom, Brendan had been sitting, waiting in the front seat the whole time – he had offered to drive David to the courts – but he wasn't bored. He had been fiddling with his laptop, with comically large headphones on.

The phrase 'Mind hack' had been buzzing around Tom's head all day. It had taken a lot of effort to keep the thought away during the tennis match as long as he had. By late afternoon he had finally worked out a plan, and was soon in his workshop getting it ready. First, he knew that his brother fell asleep quickly after a few glasses of wine, which had played its part in a few practical jokes over the years. Second, he knew that David mumbled regularly in his sleep. It seemed to be a family trait. Surely that allowed the speech part of the brain to open up, to be more exposed. If he was somehow able to access David's Mindline chip while he slept, he could hear some of his deepest thoughts, with David completely unaware that it was happening. At least, that's what he hoped. In his workshop he was putting together a device that would allow his Mindline signal to go straight to David's head, with no ringtone or need for him to pick up. 'I can even engineer hypnotism' he thought, heart pounding with excitement.

He knew his brother well enough. That evening, after three large glasses of red, which Tom had subtly filled like an over-zealous waiter, David's eyes began to droop. The glass fell out of his hand, thudding quietly onto the carpet. 'Well that was easy.' Tom thought. He was sweating, and his hands started to shake slightly. 'But what if I give him permanent brain damage?' he wondered. He tread carefully out of the back door, through the garden towards his workshop, all the while hearing snoring and mutterings.

He sat down at his desk, switching on a computer, and strapping on a crude, quick-built device. It attached to his head with straps that wrapped tightly round his temples, and had a signal amplifier drooping from the left hand side, near his chip. After a few commands tapped on the keyboard, he heard a faint buzzing inside his head, like white noise. He tried to thought-speak.

[David. David]

He heard a reply that sounded disorientated, and drunk. [I am so...I am so happy right now]. It was David's programmed Mindline voice.

Tom couldn't believe he was actually doing this. [Why are you happy?] he asked. He wasn't quite sure how to talk to the mind of a sleeping drunk.

[I am part of....this project....with you.....we make a great team. Our machine will make history....I know it]. Tom decided to check on his brother to see if he was alright. Still wearing the helmet, he walked across his workshop and lightly crept through his garden, trying to get a closer look at David through the back window.

[Are you afraid of anything?] he asked. [Is there anything you are sad about? Is there anything that could go wrong?]

[Everything is good. We are going to be.....very rich people.] Tom could see him still curled up on the sofa, breathing heavily, lips moving slightly. This was all going to plan. Maybe everything was all okay after all. He wanted to ask some more questions, about Brendan, just to be absolutely sure. He didn't know if this whole thing was even worthwhile – he was just making it up as he went along.

Suddenly, the plan spiralled out of control. In the dark, Tom stepped on a twig with a hard crunch. This startled a small owl in the tree above, which shot out towards him like a feathered bullet, claws and shrieks and wings fighting furiously. It was so disturbed by the flashing, humming helmet, but Tom had no sympathy for it. As his mouth cried out, so did his mind. As his mind cried out, so did David's. Still in his sleep, David kicked and waved and shouted and cried. While he was falling into this strange nightmare, his terror seemed to pass back to Tom's mind. And back again, and back again. All the while, the owl scratched Tom on the side of his head. The pain was hot and ugly. David felt the pain too, and still unconscious, he grabbed his head in agony. The pain relayed back to his brother. Everything that was felt in either mind was being passed back and forth, back and forth, like a feedback effect. Even when the owl decided to leave, the raw fear was rolling about in both their heads, and was building momentum. Tom pulled off the helmet. That didn't help. He half-crawled back into the workshop, still clutching his head, and switched off the conversation through his computer. Everything stopped. Calm, like a storm had passed away. 'I don't want to do that ever again.' He thought to himself. He crept back into the house. David was sleeping calmly now, not even mumbling anymore.

#  Chapter 3

Yet another restless night. Tom couldn't stop thinking about what had just happened. He had actually been inside the mind of another person. This wasn't simply talking to each other, this was a binding of two minds. They had shared their feelings and pain through the Mindline chip. It was perhaps the most terrifying moment of his life, and yet there was something he was intrigued by, drawn to, like some out of body experience. He wondered whether he could do it again. Just one more time. He wanted to feel that buzz. This was something perhaps no other human being had ever felt before. 'People could get hooked on this' he pondered. 'I think I'm hooked on it already. No, this isn't right. I've done a terrible thing. Come on now, I didn't find anything bad, it was all positive. Just leave it alone. But what if I have damaged my brother's mind in some way? What if he can't think straight anymore? Tom, you are so stupid, what the hell have you done?' This conversation with himself went on sporadically through the night.

David awoke particularly late the next morning, complaining about a horrific nightmare he had the night before. They decided they should have at least a couple of days apart, so they wouldn't get too sick of each other in an intense month of research. Brendan came to pick him up, and the two were immediately in deep conversation. Tom waved an awkward goodbye, his conscience continually punching him in the chest, and memories of last night kicking him in the brain.

He tried to rest. He tried to read, watch TV, go for a quiet walk, something even remotely relaxing. His mind could not let go. If that damn owl had not disrupted everything, would he have found the information he was looking for? Did he have to go deeper? He couldn't get his brother drunk again, or he would suspect something. He paced his workshop to figure out a way of hacking once more. There wasn't any way, except the riskiest of ways. He would have to wait until late into the night, and hope that his brother was asleep. That was the only way it could be done without causing alarm. 'Just one more time,' he promised himself, 'and I will not do this crazy stuff anymore'.

After taking some power naps throughout the day, and consuming various forms of caffeine and sugar (he lost count of how many), Tom managed to stay awake into the early hours of the morning. 'He must be asleep now, surely.' He thought, slightly bewildered in his exhaustion. He sat down at his computer once more, slipping on the amplifier helmet. At this point he felt like he was about to throw up. There was so much opportunity for error.

He tapped the commands, trying to concentrate. The white noise flooded his head once more. He was in. [David ....David] his mind called out into the void. The seconds felt like hours. What if he was awake?

[I am so...I am so happy right now] David called back. Sigh of relief. He must be asleep.

[What are you thinking, David?]

[I am part of....this project....with you.....we make a great team. Our machine will make history....I know it]. Tom was puzzled. This sounded like word for word the same conversation they had the previous night. Perhaps this was a sign of brain damage, or something else more worrying.

[What else are you thinking?] Tom pried.

[Everything is good. We are going to be.....very rich people.] Again, David spoke the same words as before. [Our product will change the world – it gets me...so excited.] Tom let the words continue. [Think of the possibilities....]. David switched off the conversation sharply. He couldn't carry on. He was getting into things beyond his control, beyond his understanding. This wasn't right. But the feeling had come back – being inside another person's unconscious head felt freakishly delicious and exciting. He wondered what it would be like to hack other minds. The power he could wield once Mindline went commercial. Politicians, famous faces, complete strangers...he could know the secrets of the world. Once he engineered ways, nothing would be hidden from him. NOTHING. The thought of it all made him salivate. David would never need to know any of this. This would be Tom's little niche. His own unique way to go up in the world. 'I'll show them all I'm not just some tinker' he seethed. Eventually he calmed himself, pulled away from the computer and stumbled to bed.

The only way for him to be sure about his brother was to go to his house, in person. No more mind-hacking. He must see for himself that everything was as it should be.

#  Chapter 4

The following afternoon, Tom drove up to David's pristine, remote home, hiding his car around the corner, out of sight. By now he was getting quite used to the adrenaline daily surging in his body, and was even starting to enjoy it. His brother's car was nowhere to be seen. 'Perfect' he thought. David had given him a set of spare keys many months ago, in case of emergencies. He turned the key in the lock without a sound, checked his shoes for dirt, and slid inside. There was an unsettling silence – no computer keys tapping, no creaking floorboards, no TV. He was alone. 'This can't be as bad as trespassing a person's brain, surely,' he reassured himself.

Not taking a second for granted, he strode through the house to the back room, which had been converted into David's office. The room had no windows, and was pitch black, except for a faint blue shimmer seeping from a half closed laptop. Switching on the light, he noticed how beautifully in order everything was. Colour coded folders, equipment and stationary at straight angles, not a speck of dust anywhere. The only thing out of place was a large electronic box – a striking coffin of wires, circuitry and duct tape. Aerials of different sizes jarred out of it randomly like bony fingers. It rested menacingly on the desk next to the flashing laptop. Tom wracked his brains trying to work out what it was. He grabbed the laptop and flung it open. A file without a name filled the screen. He scrolled through it, and what he found made his mouth dry and his blood freeze.

It was a long list of audio files, each one with a date and time next to it. Pressing the play button next to one, he heard two familiar voices in conversation. They were his and David's Mindline voices, and the recordings of all the Mindline conversations they had had in the last few months. Every single one. Surely the black box was some kind of recording machine. But why?

He stared at the dates of the last few days. It was as he suspected. Both times Tom had hacked his brother's mind, he had actually been recorded. He had been caught. The evidence was right there in front of him. He tried to delete the files, but the computer wouldn't let him. "Damn it" he snarled, banging his fist on the desk. He scrolled through the earlier files. To his alarm he found many recordings that had taken place at two AM, three AM, ridiculously early hours. "We never spoke at those times. What are all these?" he asked, as if anyone was there., He clicked the play button by one of the later conversations, and their two voices came through the speakers once more. This time it sounded different – loud, crackling white noise. In the conversation, David was asking Tom so many questions: questions about technology, about ideas, the business, and even his personal life. His deepest secrets were all there as computer files. All the time, David was replying like he had no inhibitions, but his speech was slurred, erratic. These seemed to go on for hours. "I don't remember telling him all this." Tom cried. Then it dawned on him – "He's been hacking my mind the whole time. I can't believe he would do this to me. Dirty, lying traitor!" His hypocrisy never occurred to him. He was angry, boiling, fists clenched, and then filled with sheer panic, grabbing his skull where the chip was stored. "What if he hacks me again and again, I'll never be able to sleep. I'll never be able to have a life. Nothing is safe. I won't be able to think anymore." In his mind he thought about grabbing a sharp knife from the kitchen and shoving it through the side of his head to get the chip out, but he was afraid, and too proud of his machine to show the world how dangerous it could be.

The office door creaked open. It was Brendan, his eyes glazed over with the light shining on his glasses. "What's going on?" he drawled. "I heard noises."

Tom pointed a shaking finger at Brendan – "You...you have crossed the line, intern. I've seen what you and my brother have been up to. He can't make all this himself, he's no engineer. You allowed him into my head. You're a sick kid, you know that? You're gonna be locked up for this, both of you!"

Brendan stared at Tom, quite calmly, unphased. "You hacked his mind as well. You'll be locked up too, you know." But Tom wasn't listening. With all his might, he kicked the black recording box to the floor with a horrendous crash, and stamped his foot into its shell as it buzzed and whined like a dying animal. Every stamp and kick cut and bruised Tom's leg flesh, but also seemed to cut and bruise his mind. Something painful and unnerving was happening in his brain as the machine fell apart. He stared at Brendan for a few awkward moments, before reaching over and smacking him hard on the head, knocking him to the floor. Tom moved past him without a care, limping to the front door.

It too opened, revealing David, rubbing his head, groaning and baring his teeth. He was feeling Tom's pain, feeling his anger, and the strange disturbance made by the black box. Tom startled him. "What the hell are you doing in my house? What have you done?"

"I was right about suspecting something." Tom exclaimed. "You've been messing with my head, sibling. I can't trust you anymore. This has gone too far." By now they were shouting so loud, it was frightening the people across the street.

David held up his hands to protect himself from any violence. He was shaking, overwhelmed by fear and guilt. "I can understand why you're angry. I know your mental privacy is very important to you, but I assure you, I was doing it with the best intentions." Tom grabbed him by the collar and shoved him against the wall. He was always the physically stronger of the two. "How could there possibly be any good in this?" he whispered.

David sighed. "You have the best ideas Tom, so many ideas running around your technical brain. You even have ideas that were subconsciously hidden from you. You would never share these ideas with me, as if I wouldn't understand them."

"What are you talking about?" Tom stared, never flinching.

"The recording machine...we got that from you, when we...listened to your mind while you slept. So Brendan managed to build one, and it's fantastic. There's so many other ideas you shared and we are now trying to work on them. Don't you see? Mindline can be a harvester of ideas. Think of the implications!" Tom dropped his brother to the ground violently. All his thoughts of mind hacking the night before were now betraying him.

"You're talking about the business, like I'm some kind of tool, or a toy you can just muck around with. You could have given me brain damage or something. No wonder you sounded so smug when I listened to your brain."

David gave a slight nervous chuckle as he picked himself off the floor. "Actually, we gave you that idea. The idea to hack into my brain. That was a little experiment by Brendan and myself." Brendan hopped into the living room clutching the laptop. "Brendan, play the file from Friday night please." The intern clicked the play button and speech wafted through the speakers.

[Mind hack your brother. Mind hack him in his sleep. Mind hack. It will give you answers. Mind hack]. It was David's voice. This rambling seemed to go on for many minutes. Brendan clicked stop.

"You see, brother, we gave you the idea through repeating it to you over and over again, so it would fall deep into your subconscious, like a seed. When you mentioned the word 'Mind hack' at our tennis game, I figured that it had worked."

Tom's mind was aching even more, and he rubbed his skull, wiping away sweat. "But you let me into your mind the night you came round to my house. You let me do that to you? You knew it was going to happen?"

David smiled, a frightened smile. "Well I half expected it. Brendan, show him the voicemail file." Brendan tapped some more keys. The audio was David's voice again, and the words were instantly recognisable. [I am so...I am so happy right now......I am part of....this project....with you.....we make a great team. Our machine will make history....I know it]. It was the message Tom heard when he mind hacked before. [Everything is good. We are going to be.....very rich people...] "Don't you see, Tom? It's a pre-recorded message. Bit like a voicemail. Our minds were still connected, but you were hearing something I had programmed in advance. Another idea we got from you, actually." Tom stared into nothing. He didn't know what to think anymore. His brother was trying to justify some terrible things in the name of business. Was David ever intending on telling Tom? "All of this has come from your mind, and you never even knew it was there. This business can go places we could never have dreamed of. But actually...you did dream, Tom. You dream big things. Let's be a team again. The Gosling Brothers. We'll be on all the magazines, but it will be your ideas that will be celebrated." He put his hand out to be shaken. "What do you say?" Tom shivered. His eyes wide and bloodshot. His head crackling with electricity. He could barely move. David's hand waited, in desperation. The atmosphere was so heavy, full of fear, and hurt, and brutal anger. He took his brother's hand softly, and said "I am no longer your brother."

In an instant, he threw a punch as hard as he could into David's jaw, knocking out a tooth and launching him across the room. David groaned in agony, and with a quick swipe of his fingers on the back of his head, he activated his Mindline chip. A second later, Tom felt David's pain, all over his face, and he too fell to the floor, writhing and twisting. His pain relayed by to his brother, and back, and forth, again and again. The pain intensified, filling their whole brains and bodies. There were shouts and screams like wild animals. They tried to override it, but they could barely move. It was as if their souls were being strangled.

Brendan stood nearby, watching the whole time, without any rush to help them. He showed no compassion, just coldly stared. Too cold for a man as young as he was. He quickly picked up the laptop and clicked on a few commands, then faced the brothers.

[You men are like children. You are too open. Let no one in. You never know who you can trust.] It was Brendan's voice, appearing in their minds. His lips weren't moving. He had installed his own Mindline chip without them ever knowing. [I am immune to your pain experience, because I have set myself to an altered frequency. Impressive, do you not think, Tom? You cannot deny that I am the superior engineer.] He slipped on a glove and walked to the other side of the room. [I need you both to stay there while I carry out some important business]. With his gloved hand he picked up a large antique vase from the fireplace, walked slowly up to David's twitching body, and slammed it ferociously into his chest. The vase shattered into a million pieces, and the two brothers were overcome with pain, their minds becoming lost. Brendan walked to the office, and came back holding a large metal case. [I am taking all the plans and prototypes with me] he thought calmly to them [except the ones in your heads of course, I will let you keep those ones]. He tapped some more commands on the keyboard, and their pain stopped, their bodies relaxed, but even now they could barely move. [I would love to stay and have fun, but you look like you have had enough fun. If you try to find me, you will fail]. He pressed one more, and walked out the back of the house, carrying his case and laptop.

It took a couple of seconds before the command kicked in. Voices appeared in the brothers' heads. Many different voices. Men's voices, women's voices. Some quoting from classic novels. Some even trying to sing. Some telling them to do awful things. Disturbingly, even some in the brother's own voices. They couldn't tell which were programmed and which were real. Brendan was very smart. Over the past few weeks with David, he had programmed hundreds of messages, and was now feeding them straight into the Goslings' heads. They went on, and on, and on, and would never stop. Small streams of red began to drip from their ears and nostrils.

#  Chapter 5

A few days later a young looking man walked confidently into a heavily guarded room, of some hidden building in another part of the world. He sat down at a desk where taller man, dressed in green, was sipping some whisky.

"Well then, Mr Zacharias, do you have a present for me?" He said, wiping his moustache. The young man placed a large case onto the desk, opened it, and took out some Mindline headsets. He then scattered some CDs and pamphlets around them.

"Here's everything you need, General. Manuals, blueprints, ways to override the programming, everything." The young man smiled. The General sat back in his chair amazed, rubbing his hands in delight.

"Very impressive." He passed over another case in return, stuffed with bundles of bank notes. "Was it difficult?"

Zacharias shook his head. "No, it was very simple. The brothers drove each other mad. It was all too much for their heads. I just had to watch and wait for the right moment."

The general laughed. "You have certainly surprised us. To be frank, when I first saw your profile I thought you were just some dumb little kid."

Zacharias nodded, unphased. "Well maybe that's why I'm so good at what I do. The Goslings made that mistake."

The general nodded back. "Absolutely. With your help, our army will fight in a new age of warfare...warfare of the mind. So exciting!"

Zacharias got up and walked away hastily. 'They don't know what they're getting themselves into' he thought to himself.

#  Wheels

#  Chapter 1

"I got something to show you. Come on out." Uncle Charlie signalled with a tilt of his head for his nephew, Gary, to follow him. "Don't get mad, I'm just trying to help." Gary followed him down the path, slightly nervous – when Uncle Charlie had arranged a surprise, it was usually followed with trouble. Round the corner he saw what it was and his stomach churned. Charlie had got him a car, and had stuck a small bow on the top for decoration. "This is yours, Gary. Now that all the buses are up the creek, you need to get to work somehow instead of worrying about hitching lifts off people... Are you mad with me?" Gary smiled awkwardly and shook his uncle's hand, which turned into a big hug.

"I'm a bit shocked to be honest, but it's great! Very useful, thank you."

In the small country village of Flocker's End, Gary Edwards was a young man that everyone knew and was on good terms. Every day people saw him and waved as he whizzed past on a rusting bicycle, fetching shopping for those who were housebound. He hated the rush and stress of the city, and was content in his own hidden part of the world. He had always said he would never drive a car, as his bicycle was perfectly sufficient, and he enjoyed talking to folk on the buses. "Besides", he would always say, "people get a bit funny when they're driving, don't they? At home they're very nice, very relaxed, but behind a wheel they turn into a raving lunatic". He had taken driving lessons at seventeen, at his Uncle's recommendation and funding. With this new gift, Uncle Charlie had the best intentions. The past year Gary started a job in a large town about twenty miles down the main road, and his local bus company had gone bust in the recent economic trouble. In Flocker's End, Gary was the boy on the bike, always would be. Now the boy on the bike owned a car.

Uncle Charlie patted the bonnet. "It's about 25 years old, but it's only done about eight thousand odd miles. Not bad really." Gary looked up and nodded. He really knew nothing at all about cars, so that meant nothing to him. "I got it off a friend who was lumbered with it off a stranger. Works absolutely fine, don't worry about that." Gary looked around it, inside and out. The logo on the front was a facial mask, split down the middle so one side was shaded in. It was a Janus model 300, a company that vanished decades ago.

Gary shrugged. "Well, all cars are alike to me, Uncle. I'm sure it'll come in useful."

Charlie chuckled. "No probs. Take it out for a test drive around the village if you want, but we need to sort out insurance and all that stuff. I'll get that done this week. Will you want me in the car with you on your first go?"

"No I'll be fine, thanks." Gary said abruptly. It was all a bit much for him to take in. "If I have any problems I'll let you know. I probably will." He smiled.

"I'll keep you posted!" Charlie nodded. He had to head off home, so they said their goodbyes and Charlie drove away. A face peered out the upstairs window of the house next door. It was Pauline, his neighbour. She pouted her lips and shook her head slowly. By the next morning everyone in the village would know about this.

The following day, Gary cycled up to the post office to buy the newspaper. Even as he walked into through the door, the car became a point of conversation. "I see you got yourself a motor, Gary. Very nice. But you of all people!" the newsagent smiled.

"If needs must, Mary. I can't keep getting lifts all the time. I don't want to be cheeky." He dropped some change onto the counter. 'I haven't even driven the bloody thing yet, and everyone's treating me like someone else' he thought.

"Well you done well there, son. I always remember what you used to say about car drivers. How a car changes someone. I know it does. I always used to get a bit hot-headed when I drove. I can't now because of my dizziness. It was fun while it lasted, but Gary, don't let it change you. We all love you just the way you are!" Gary blushed, waved and walked out, the wind chime on the door singing as he left.

"Everyone wants to be my parent these days," he muttered under his breath.

#  Chapter 2

A part of him was dreading this day for a long time. All his documents were sorted. Now he just had to get in and drive. He had driven before, in all his lessons, but that was with someone sitting next to him, talking him through it. This time he would be alone. What if he got lost? What if the car broke down? What if another driver fell asleep and crashed into him? "Come on Gary. Let's get to work." He told himself. It was a good size – nice and open, lots of space. It was clean and smelt inviting. He turned the key and the engine coughed into life. Gary sighed. "Well it didn't explode on me." After a few minutes he got the hang of the pedals, and drove almost sheepishly to the main road, trying to hide his face as he passed people. It felt like even the grazing animals were staring, trying to follow him with primal malice in their eyes.

The car was going at a steady 20mph down the winding country lanes, until the road quickly split into two lanes, like a forked tongue. Gary worked through the gears, third, fourth, fifth, reaching 50mph, feeling both confident yet a little on edge. It was feeling good, so he decided to try a little bit faster, shoving his foot on the pedal, bringing him up to 70. 'Not bad for my first go' he thought to himself. He opened his window slightly, the wind roaring through the crack and stroking his hair.

After a couple of minutes, he had sped towards a larger car in front, which was going at the correct speed for the road – compared to his speed, this car seemed to be going at an exhaustingly slow pace. 'Bloody idiot' he muttered. Gary slowed down quickly to avoid an accident. He looked straight ahead, and saw the driver's face, hidden by sunglasses, in the driver's rear view mirror. The driver was glaring at him, and the soulless eyes felt like they were burning with anger, judgement, annoyance, which made Gary shudder. Gary swerved sharply round the car and carried on, teeth grinding like footsteps on gravel.

He had to slow down quickly once again. A queue of vehicles stretched and crawled into the distance. Rush hour traffic was something everyone had warned him about, but he always thought they were making a big fuss out of nothing. This was no longer the case. Claustrophobia was crushing him, making it hard to breathe. A few more cars joined the line behind him, trapping him. There was an overwhelming sense that all the other drivers were in this together, trying to pin his Janus into a corner. Gary's fingers gripped the wheel like he was strangling a serpent.

The car behind him crept slowly towards his back bumper, in an attempt to provoke movement in the line. "Hey wise guy, don't get any ideas." Gary spoke. In a flash of anger, he reversed his Janus into the car behind, making a painful scrunch and screech. A car horn bellowed behind him, and the driver jumped out, all arm motions and fast words. Gary took no notice – he just stared into the road ahead, continuing to creep slowly with the traffic. The man walked alongside him, and thumped the car window with his fist. At that, Gary wound his window down, and before anyone could say anything, he slapped the palm of his hand on the man's face, and shoved him back on the side of the road. There were yells, and more horns. Quickly the traffic started to move again. "I'm only trying to defend myself" he said out loud.

After about half an hour of driving, he reached his office car park. He turned the key and the engine ceased, like it was exhausted. He was too. His mind felt like it had been crushed, and was trying desperately to recover. Gary sat back and took deep breaths. Then he noticed the time. His shift was about to start. But how? Surely he had only just left the village. There were no other cars on the road, how did it take more than five minutes? The journey was a blip of memory. Shaking his head, he got out and strode anxiously into the building, taking a quick look over his shoulder.

#  Chapter 3

A week passed, and Gary was becoming more and more confident by the day. His journeys to work were becoming a strange blur, as if every drive was an out of body experience, until the car engine stopped and he would feel back to his old self. He still rode his basket-clad bicycle around Flocker's End – he didn't want to lose his identity. Deep down, that possibility terrified him.

He knocked on a slightly warped wooden door. A dimpled girl about his age, with her hair in a bob, opened it smiling. Her leg was in a cast, and she was hobbling awkwardly on a crutch.

"My chauffeur is here. How lovely!" she said. "I'll just get my things, Gaz, I'll be two seconds!" She swayed all over the floor, every step looking like she was going to fall. She was Vicky, a girl Gary had went to school with, and she needed a lift to her Grandmother's home on the other side of the village. "Thanks for your help, Gaz, I can't wait to get out of this stupid thing."

"That's ok" he said shyly, looking at his shoes. "Break your leg anytime you want, I don't mind to help you out." He rubbed the side of his stomach and grimaced.

"Ha-ha, I'll think about that offer!" she laughed as she slipped her jacket on. "Is something wrong?"

"No it's fine. I just got cut in the night by something, don't know what it was. Maybe I need to trim my fingernails." She lifted his T-shirt up slightly. He had a long, red line burning into his skin.

"Do you want anything for it?"

"No, please don't worry about me. You're the one with the broken leg!" he smiled. As they approached the Janus, Vicky noticed a long gash in the car's paintwork, on the side of its body. It looked like someone had walked past and raked it with their keys, as a bit of senseless vandalism. 'How can people do that?' she pondered.

The engine ignited with a roar and rumble. The pair engaged in small talk, verging on flirting. Gary had never flirted before – he never really knew when girls were doing it to him. He would just hide, stumble over his words. But now he was confident, like a new man. "Vicky, if you wanted me to, I would camp in your garden and be your own private chauffeur. I wouldn't mind that." He smirked. She giggled.

"I wouldn't mind that either, Gaz."

As they started to drive past the wheat fields, Gary became agitated. There was a pheasant prancing across the path. It stood in the middle of the road and tilted its head. Gary pressed his horn. The bird was gormless, pecking the earth. After a deep breath, Gary shoved his foot on the gas and accelerated at uncontrollable speed towards it. He was too quick. Before it had time to think, the pheasant disappeared into a firework of feathers as the car drove straight through it.

"Gary stop it!" Vicky shouted. The car screeched to a halt. "What's happened to you? If you're trying to impress me, it's not working well. Why the hell did you do that?"

He kept staring straight ahead. "I just hate stupid animals getting in the way. I don't like being slowed down by anything, that's all it was."

Vicky scrunched her mouth up. "There's no rush, you know." She said sternly. "Gaz, you're one of my most favourite people in the world. But since you've been driving around in this, you've become something else. It frightens me sometimes. Other people are noticing it too." He sighed, slightly embarrassed.

"I'm sorry. Maybe I just need a break or something. I haven't been very relaxed lately." Mockingly, her hand punched him very softly in the arm.

"Then relax, dummy. Be yourself."

They carried on for another minute down the road. He tried to focus on his breathing, and keeping at a steady speed. 'Be yourself' he kept mouthing. 'Be yourself'. They turned another corner, where they were near a public playground. Two young boys were kicking a football to each other, jeering and waving. Vicky's heart began to beat uncontrollably.

She guessed what would happen seconds before it did. One boy kicked the ball, too hard, as it flew into the middle of the road. "Be careful, Gaz." She said as she gripped his sleeve. One boy jogged to get it back. "Slow down." She shouted. Gary hit the car horn. He wasn't slowing down. He was speeding up, very quickly. The boy picked up the ball, just before he noticed the colossal roaring machine charging towards him. He was frozen to the spot in terror. "Gary!" Vicky screamed. She grabbed the wheel and flung it to the right, swerving the car into a hedge.

"Gaz." She whispered. "You need help. I want the old Gary Edwards back. You're not well." He stared straight ahead once again, trembling. "I'll help you get back to your old self, Gaz, but you need to help yourself too. You can't keep going on like this. You're gonna kill someone. That someone might even be you." She hobbled out the car and walked down the road. The boy started to sob. She stroked his head and spoke to him. Gary however took a few minutes to prise his fingers from the steering wheel. His right eye was sore, like it had been cut. Looking in the mirror he saw it was red raw. He turned the car and drove back home. He didn't realise until he got home that the car's right headlight had been broken by the sharp thorns of the hedge.

#  Chapter 4

It had been a particularly long day at the office. Deadlines were looming and everyone was getting a bit cranky. At half past seven Gary turned off the computer and stretched his arms. Finished. Following the advice of most people he knew, he had booked a few days off work, for a break at a Bed and Breakfast. At last, he could go home and pack his things. He looked at the clock and scowled sleepily. 'At least I missed the traffic' he thought. He said farewell to everyone in the room and walked to the exit. On his way out he gave a packet of chocolate biscuits to the woman at the front desk.

Outside, the air was cold and biting on his face, while the wind made a drop of moisture fall from his eye. The sky was dark and full of stars. "This is it." He said to himself. "I'm finally getting out of here." He switched on the ignition and drove away. All he could think about was getting home, and then getting away the next day. He wanted to find himself again. The excitement filled his tired body and he smiled uncontrollably.

There were few vehicles on the road at this time: the odd bus carrying many to package holidays. A couple of tow trucks. A car with a couple of confused looking dogs in the boot. An ambulance flashing its lights. That last one reminded him to be a bit more careful with his speed. His heart was thumping all over his body, and a line of sweat slithered behind his ear. He opened the window a fraction to cool himself. "Just stay calm," he told himself wearily.

Suddenly a motorbike buzzed up the road, brushing past him like a swarm of insects. The sound rose and fell, making Gary squeeze the steering wheel in surprise. "Wow what a fright" he sighed. Another vehicle came looming over the horizon behind him. The lights were blinding. Gary watched in his mirror as the lights inflated until it was hard to keep his eyes open. His mind began to play tricks on him. He could have sworn the lights were shining from two spiteful looking eyes, full of primal malice. He gazed transfixed at them through his mirror, until his eyes burned. "IDIOT!" He shouted, as the car stampeded past him, roaring as it went. A minute later, another car came and did the same thing. Gary's patience weakened, and eventually snapped like a twig. Another vehicle entered his line of vision. It was a minibus full of people, who were all either stargazing or trying to sleep. In the dark of the evening however, it simply looked like an enormous glowing beast, marking its territory in its snarls and snorts. At least, it did in Gary's mind. His mind was wandering, and he was struggling to keep it controlled. As it came closer, he saw the bus was baring its fangs, and foaming at the mouth. He breathed hard and fast, sweating more. "This is crazy," he said. "Focus on getting home." His speed was steady. Then, as the bus went past him, he lapsed. He swung his steering wheel to the right, colliding sharply with a thud. All the passengers cried out in terror, but to Gary it was the sound of the beast crying in pain as its flesh was bruised and bashed. He did it again. The bus slowed down, wounded and afraid.

Then the scene became even more chaotic. As if it came from nowhere, a charging lorry appeared behind the Janus. It sounded its horn like a war cry, exerting its dominance. Gary sped as hard as he could to escape, but the lorry was out to get him, with burning eyes and dripping fangs. He was at the bottom of the food-chain, fighting for his life against beasts hell-bent on ripping him to pieces. The lorry cried out again. The Janus danced back and forth all over the road as the wheels seemed to lose control.

At about half past one that night, Uncle Charlie's mobile phone started to ring. He sighed and mumbled, stumbling out of consciousness. He clumsily put the phone to his face.

"Yeah.....what is it? ................Gary?......What's he done?.........Alright, I'm come right now." Charlie sat up in his bed, staring at the floor, before letting out a painful sob. A moment passed, and he found Vicky's number – she was the one Gary had suggested as an emergency contact. "Vicky it's Gary's uncle Charlie, sorry to ring so late..........yeah, he's had an accident. I'm going to the hospital in a minute, I could pick you up if you want to come as well, he always used to talk about you. Don't feel pressure though. .....Ok, I'll see you soon."

#  Chapter 5

Slightly dazed from the time, Charlie and Vicky walked briskly through the hospital doors. "We're here to see Gary Edwards." Charlie said to the reception. A doctor with a worried look led the way.

"It is good of you to come. He hasn't said a word since it happened, though in his sleep he mentioned both your names, so you must be very important to him. This way please."

Finally they reached a room where Gary lay in a bed, fitted with tubes and surrounded by monitors. He was almost unrecognisable. His body was purple and blackened with mass bruising, and was covered in bandages. A brace was fastened to his neck and the top half of his left ear was missing. A screen showed his heart rate, which was painfully slow, staying at around the low 40s.

"Oh my gosh, what happened?" Vicky whispered, tearfully.

The doctor cleared his throat. "He had a road accident. They are still trying to figure out what happened, but his car was found off the main road, upside down. No one else seems to have been involved, as far as we know so far. He has been unconscious like this since we found him. He needs plenty of rest."

Charlie could not take his eyes off his nephew. "How long until he's out of here?"

"It could be a few weeks. He's had a lot of stress, even shock. Multiple fractures and quite a bit of blood loss, which we are tending to. He needs to do as little as possible. We don't know when he will wake up, but we need to give him whatever time he needs." Vicky decided she would stay by his side, while Charlie left to see if he could somehow get in contact with Gary's parents, who were living in Canada. As he left the hospital, he burst into tears.

"It's all my fault, boy" he wept. "I should never have kept interfering with your life, buying you ways to kill yourself. I'm a horrible man Gary, I'm sorry."

Vicky slept in the armchair next to Gary's bed the whole night. She woke as the cosy sunlight seeped in through the blinds. She looked at the heart monitor. There was no change.

"Come on Gary. Come back to us. There's too many people who love you too much." She said. He showed no reaction.

That morning the Janus was referred from person to person, office to office, until it came to be with a police inspector and a mechanic, who hoped that examining the vehicle would reveal some clues on the nature of the accident. The car's body was scratched and dented, crumpled with ripples in places. The paintwork was completely discoloured. There were web-like cracks in the windshield. The left wing mirror was gone. Otherwise, the car itself was still in one piece. Alarmingly, the engine had no leaks or scrapes, and everything under the bonnet seemed fine. They tried to turn the engine on, but it was stubborn. Nothing would turn on. Then the mechanic brought out some jumper cables, and hooked them onto the battery. Sparks flew and the engine creaked to life.

Back at home, at that same minute, Charlie's phone rang. It was Vicky. "Hi Vicky, how's Gary doing?"

Her voice was delirious. "You need to come quickly. Gary's eyes have just opened. His heart's going crazy, come quick!" In a split second his heart monitor showed 90, 95, 100, and kept rising.

#  Space Dust

Taken from Modern Lives Magazine, 'The Godman & The Fall of an Empire' collector's issue.

The following are selected extracts from the diaries, journals and records of Stephanie (not actual name), a close acquaintance of 'the Godman', Samuel Remus. In response to the events surrounding Remus last year, Taylor has allowed us an exclusive insight into his life through her intimate perspective.

Note: The extracts have been selected by the editor's discretion. Names of people and places have been either changed or omitted. Any spelling mistakes or grammatical errors have been left uncorrected.

June 12th, Age 8 (satuday)

This is the dirry of Stephani Taylor. I am now doing a dirry bcos lots of good fings have hapened and I dont want to forget them like grandad alwaes forgets things. Today I met a boy called Sam. He has a big gap in his teeth and crazy hair that sticks up and wares glasses. He does not go to school. He gets school at home. Lucky. He lives in a big manshun with a o pear and a dog called tiger. My big brother Alfie took me there bcos he is working with sams dad. I told mum I was going to do dancing with people from scool. Haha. Sam has lots of things, lots of gajets and toys and computers. He plays on his tablet all the time. His kitchen has so many snacks and ice cream and he can get anything he wants wenever he wants. We played in his great big garden and then his o pear took us out to the park and the shops. He said he is bord on Satudays and does not know any kids only me. So I am going to visit him as much as I can. I had a rilly good day today, but a bit too much choclate, i feel sick 

January 13th, Age 9

Today was Sams 10th birthday. They asked him what he wanted to do but he does not have many frends so he just wanted to go to London with me for the day. It has been snowing in the nite so everything is very wite and pretty. We went to a museum about dinasors. Then we saw a film at the cinema about bugs. Then we went to a museum place that had lots of masheens. It is called the romnus center. It has planes tanks guns and lots of robots. There was a video about a man who had lost his arms and legs in a war and got some robot arms and robot legs so now he can walk and hold things. It was cool but a bit strange. Sam said the museum was owned by his dad i think. He said his dad makes robots and guns but its a secret and im not allowed to tell anyone about it. Sam was telling me about how robots work but i did not understand what he was saying. He likes masheens and making things. He said he wants to build some friends. For his next birthday I think i will make him a robot out of crafts and paint it lots of cool colors.

March 2nd Age 9

Sam has made a robot hamster that moves around really fast on weels. He wants to make a robot cat next and make a robot zoo when he is older. He is so clever. I wish I could do things like that. I saw his dad for the 1st time today bcos he is always on work trips. Sams dad was really grumpy.

August 3rd Age 10

I like Sam very much. He is a friend but he is much more interesting than all my friends at school. He does not fight with me about stupid things like what music we like or what football team our famly supports. But he sometimes acts really strange and says things that are so weird. Today we were at the fancy cake shop in town. Loads of cakes in the window looked amazing, like lots of colours and sweet toppings. So I said what cake would you be if you could be a cake. I said the one with the crackly space dust on the top bcos that's my fave. But he said he would be the big plastic one that was hanging from the ceiling. I said why. He said because all the other cakes will go off and get mouldy, but the fake one will always be around. He did not want to be any of the normal cakes that will be eaten by people. I thort that was a weird thing to say. Also he showed me his robot cat. It just walks around his house making funny cat noises. He said hes going to put some pretend fur on top because now it looks all square and sharp. The way it moves kindof freaks me out.

January 17th Age 10

I met up with Sam today. He was wearing a hat and feeling sore. When I saw him he freaked me out. For his birthday he asked his dad for new hair and new teeth. He had just had a hair transplant (is that right?) so he now had hair that was straight and tidy instead of springy and messy. Its now black instead of brown. The gap in his teeth has now gone because he had surgery, and they are now all straighter. Other kids dont ask for stuff like that for birthdays. Mum didnt believe me when I told her about it. Sam said it makes him look and feel better.

June 3rd Age 10

Wow. Never guess what. Mum spoke to Sam's o pear on the phone. I have never seen his mum. Maybe shes away all the time like his dad. Then mum said to me that Sam was going to start normal school in September because his dad is worried that he is not very good at talking and playing with other kids. Ok but ...no way! Hes going to start at (......) school with me. He could be in my class. Wow that will be so strange.

September 6th Age 11

W.T.H. First week has been quite hard but today was really bad. Sam brought a gun into school today. Not like a gun they use in the army with bullets but it was different. He said it came from his dads work. Someone picked it up and played with it and shot a massive hole in the wall. A kid got a massive burn all down there arm. The police came and then the army came and some kids got punished. Sam didnt. He just got taken away in a helicopter back home. How is that fair?

November 12th Age 11

I hate how Sam keeps getting bullied by kids at school. When I sit next to him in lessons he draws pictures of him beating up the bullies and sending his robots to kill them. I think he should just try to avoid them. Especially Jay. Hes the worst one. Mum says its because they are all jealous of how much rich Sams family are.

April 5th Age 11

Finally we're in (......) in Wales for the adventure holiday. Sat between Emily and Sam on the coach. Sam didnt talk much, was just on his tablet. He didnt know any of the songs on the radio when everyone else was singing. He brought a special toolkit which he got for his birthday (in case he wanted to build or fix anything). Me and Emily had doodling contests.

April 9th Age 11

Boys are so stupid. This morning Jay peed on Sams bed and then told everyone that Sam wets himself and everyone laughed. So before dinner Sam got into Jays bags and got his phone, his tablet, his music player and speakers, and fiddled with the wires inside of them so when Jay used them he got a bad electric shock. I haven't told anyone that Sam did it. Jay got what he deservd. Went absailing today and going up a mountain tomorrow.

June 1st Age 12

Year is nearly over. Cant wait for summer woooo! Uncle Bob and Auntie Carol are taking us to the Isle of Wight, wherever that is. I just want to finish school. Homework is so lame. My best friends in school are Emily, Rachel, Pooja, Joseph and Maxy. Sam is my friend still, but not like he was before secondary school. He keeps reading books about making machines and science. Hes got a few friends now which is good. Maybe hes turning a bit more normal.

June 2nd Age 12

After school I saw him giving his friends brand new tablets. What the hell! People are saying that hes giving gifts to kids so they can be friends with him. There not even denying it!

January 14th Age 14

Every year I wonder what Sam will ask for his birthday. This was by far the most insane. He's had more surgery to make him taller. He's like...another head taller. Tallest in the year. I think they did something to his legs and his spine or something. And hes got really big muscles. Not like a bodybuilder, hes just looking a bit bigger everywhere on his body. Now when the bullies see him they walk away. Its so funny! At lunchtime Harry was kicking in someones locker, and Sam came down the corridor and Jay really freaked out. And then he found out that he was actually smashing up Sams locker, so Jay said sorry and gave him the keys to his own locker. He was so red in the face.

February 21st (14)

I feel like crap. My friend Joseph is now hanging around Sam and asking him to be his bodyguard. He keeps following him around everywhere. Is Joseph really my friend or is he just looking out for himself? And now Emily is starting to stalk Sam as well, and she keeps talking about how she never has any money for clothes and jewellery. Hes not like a vending machine. Seriously, do I have anyone anymore? I hate school.

March 12th

I dont believe it. Emily and Joseph have both got some really fancy things. Sam is giving stuff to people for friendship? Ok Hes just walked in the room, Ill talk to him!.................................OK. He just said whats wrong with giving nice things to people you care about. You do that at Christmas and birthdays and I said yeah but those kids dont care about you. If you had the same amount of money as other people they would not be interested in you. And then he said is that why you always hung around me and i said no im the only one who ever cared about you. And he just kicked a table over and ran out. I dont know if he will be back for lessons. I dont know what to do.

July 8th (15)

Birthday yesterday. With school peeps had pizza then went out to the Soundhouse in town. Some cute guys there. Maxy got the phone number off one of them. One guy was such a knob, dancing like a loon cos he drank too much and he made Em spill her drink everywhere, then he was sick out the front door. But it was good fun. I got some Ebooks and some boots Ive always wanted. This morning I got a box wrapped up very well with a ribbon. It was a MASSIVE space dust cake, and it glowed in the dark. Amazing! There was a letter from Sam. He said he was sorry he went mental all that time ago and how he hasn't spoken to me since then and hes lucky to be my friend etc etc. Now he wants to hang outside school a bit more. I just want him to be ok and just to be not weird. I am happy tho! I texted him to say 'Your amazing! And not just because of cake! Hang out anytime xx' Sorry diary for not writing so much these days! Xoxo

August 1st (17)

Ok. First time Ive written in here in like a year but people are shouting downstairs and my head is all swirly. So much has happened-

One. Maxy says she got engaged to that guy Stuart and shes got a ring and everything. Theyve been together all this time so he cant be all that bad. But shes only just left school and hes like 10 years older than her.

Two. Finished school woohoo! And started college doing photography and graphic design. Course is good and the teachers are really clever but some of the other students are just so lazy and never come in! And they're quite rude and cliquey. Stinks of pot. I miss school.

Three. Alfie has now been promoted to some big design job working for Sams dad. Its all to do with that Romulus company thats been on the TV for ages advertising prosthetic limbs and computers and talking cars. He was proper excited and hes always moving between offices that are like opposite ends of the country. Why dont they make one giant office in one place? Anyhoo , its a lot of money and life changing and all that, Im happy for him. I videophone him every week.

Oh yeah, on the subject of Sam, I wasn't going to talk about him but actually thinking of Sam makes me a bit dizzy so I need to put it on here and out of my head:

One. So Sam left school at 16 and he's now working for Romulus, but he's got a high ranking position because its his dads company and hes like the heir. Seriously, that kid could buy his own tropical island. He works in a building in London and he's not allowed to tell me which one. He buys me dinner sometimes, in his suit and tie, which is actually pretty cool.

Two. But like everytime we meet up there is something different about him. He calls it 'upgrading', like when they improve machines. Hes been spending too long with robots! He did make an android dog, so lifelike, really cute. He made an android peacock a while back, that was a bit weird. Now he's working on building people. Seriously, he doesn't do anything that normal teenagers do, except eat a load of junk food. Anyway, getting sidetracked. He's now got something like a USB port in the side of his head, and he links a special computer to it and it teaches his brain things. In the winter, he learnt to speak fluent Mandarin in about a week, and he's learnt Spanish, all through that hole in his head. For international business apparently. He knows how to fly aircraft and military vehicles. He said its just for emergencies. Also his eyes have changed. He got them switched for special mechanical ones that have got like telescopic vision, he can see for miles, all in HD. He said its for when he's out with work people and they go out shooting things for sport. Its weird, its like when he looks at me he can see straight into my soul. His muscles have improved as well. All this upgrading is done by Romulus through a special team hired just for him. I cant get my head round it! Next time I see him he'll probably have an extra head so he can socialise with himself.

5th Oct (22)

Graduation ceremony was better than I thought it would be. Managed to get some extra tickets so all my brothers could come, even Alfie, which is impressive with his schedule. They had a gallery showing some of our best work, mine was at the front so am well chuffed. Some pretentious speech about having a vision and making our mark on the world was a bit dull – do they do that speech at every single graduation there's ever been? When I got to the buffet I got massive shock. Sam Remus was at the door dressed in some jeans and hoodie like someone from the 00s. He was trying to disguise himself, but only I can recognise his awkward shuffling when he's around crowds of people. He said he missed me, and that he didn't want to miss my ceremony for anything. He's quite stressed and needs a holiday. I'd go with him if he wanted. But then he got all shy. When I gave him a big hug he was so rigid, like a statue. I wonder if he ever sleeps. He looked like he wanted to cry, but his tear ducts were probably taken out when he got those new eyes. When he gets time we will videochat once a fortnight from now on.

10th Feb

Just had a videochat with Sam. Bit hard sometimes as he's always moving from the states to china to the middle east to London. His usual 'weird but kind of cute' self I guess. He gets excited about my work and he asks loads of questions which is fine by me, I love to chat dadadada. If I ask him anything he doesn't say much. Sometimes takes the webcam around his office and workshop. He's got a robot called Alfred that is basically like his butler (what a nerd ). Soon people will be able to buy their own, he said. Alfred is just to help him and test if it all works. I don't get all the techie stuff, but it is really impressive. I tell him that and he gets all embarrassed. Guess he's not used to it in a sincere way. He sends me really nice things in the post, like that amazing camera that came last week. What can I send a guy who has everything?

29th August (24)

Man, all over the news. Steve Remus is dead. 59. Might have been heart failure they said. I can't stop thinking about Sam. I mean, his dad was a jerk to him but he was still his dad, right? What's he even feeling right now? Mum dies when he's learning to crawl, then dad goes when he's just a young guy. Now Sam's in charge of Romulus. Biggest technology company in the world. At 24. That's like controlling the whole world. Oh, and hes now in top 5 richest people. Unless he passes it to someone else. If hes not trying to impress his dad anymore, who is he working for? Maybe I'm just being cynical. This will probably be the news for the next few weeks, just what we need.

23rd Sept, 1pm

Didnt sleep much last night. Getting ready for bed when only Sam Remus knocks on my door about 10. Dressed in his old-school disguise. What could I do? He had just come from a conference in Paris to talk to me. He's so scatty, and talks really fast. Is he on drugs? Nails are all chewed to bits. He said there was no one else he wanted to see. I was in my PJs without any makeup and my hair in a towel, bit embarrassing! We spoke til about 3:30 in morning, about EVERYTHING. About how his dad had a serious nervous breakdown when Sam was a kid, and how the 2 of them barely know each other, and that he's undecided whether to run the business. He's had a few girlfriends but all of them lasted like a week each because he feels married to his work. And they were freaked out by the robots wandering around his house. I said he should have some time out and do all the things he ever wanted to do, do some soulsearching. He said maybe. He asked about my work, he was really interested and he has some contacts in media that he will email to me. Sweet! We went to sleep on my sofas about 4. Woke up about 11, he was gone! He made me some salmon and egg bagels and left a box of donuts. Healthy...

26th Sept

Right. Just watching news, Sam has just done some big announcement about taking over Romulus, how he wants to preserve his father's legacy and all that. What the hell is he doing? And now the company is going into the space tourism market, setting up bases on the moon and Mars. I'm so worried about Sam, bit angry I guess. If he sends me space tickets I might just send them back.

4th April

Just been away for few days at the Tide City with Drew. The weather was beautiful. If this is the Earth dying, I am quite happy with it so far! Drew is a nice guy. We have a lot in common which is such a relief, he's a massive photography and film buff. I keep teasing him about how white he is, its like he never goes outside. He keeps talking about how pointy my ears are. It's annoying! Only thing is, Drew keeps talking about the high prince of Romulus, how he hates that the Remus family have so much money and they love wasting it. "I would love to punch that prick in his perfect face if I ever saw him" he said. I just changed the subject. These days I can't tell people I actually know Sam. That we've been friends all our lives. People think I'm starstruck and just making it up, or if they believe me they try to get me to introduce them to him. Drew is such a hypocrite though. The Tide City was built by Romulus to bridge the gap between GB and the USA. And then he pays for us to go there for hols? Whatever.

10th June

Those robot butlers are appearing on all the motion posters. Nan said they're getting one for her friend's nursing home. I thought that sort of thing would freak her out.

2nd July

This is so mental. They've arrested a group of guys on suspicion of murdering Steve Remus. He was poisoned. They were planning it for months, apparently. Just some guys part of a crazy cult who think the Remus family are actually aliens trying to enslave the human race. They do seem a bit mental. But I don't know whether to believe it. When big stuff like this happens I swear it's always political. I mean Romulus has got the monopoly on most of the world's industry and there's rumours now that they want to replace all their workers with machines in a few years. I bet those guys have been paid to pretend. My dad agrees with me. Even Alfie agrees and he actually works for Romulus!

11th July (25)

It's days like these when Sam just makes my head spin. Just had a video chat with him about everything. He's always randomly telling me stuff he shouldn't even be telling me. Like he says he's known about the poisoning for months but they weren't sure whether to release information because of how the other companies would react. I asked if he was worried. Then he got me really mad. He showed me this armband thing under his sleeve, an electronic band full of liquid. He has to have it on all the time and put new drugs inside every few days. It's changing the structure of his blood and his cells so he can fight any disease and illness. I said he must be exaggerating. He said no, its top secret and really expensive. It will keep his bones strong, everything will be healthy. He won't get a cold, he won't get anything, not even cancer! I hung up on him. I thought you selfish ****. Knowing him, it's probably all true. Will we see that thing on the market for us normal people? Probably not. Will probably stay on a shelf in his house.

29th September (28)

Romulus has got their hands on construction, robotics, supercomputers, military, broadcasting, sea trains, prosthetics, what else? Space travel, energy, building desert cities, communications, all that. Sam (I thought I'd never think about him ever again) has appeared at some massive conference talking about the company going into pharmaceuticals. They want to cure the majority of diseases within the next 50 years. Sam are you some kind of guinea pig for your superdrugs to see if it works alright, or do you actually have the means to cure disease right now? And you're just stalling? For what? Money, duh. Dad said it's so the other drug companies can try to up their game, and not just go out of business. I can kind of see why Drew gets the way he does. He still doesn't know about me and Sam. All this and Drew asking me to marry him has all been a bit much for one week!

12TH November

Sam's just been shot by some nutcase. A sniper got him when he did a big speech in Times Square. The guy used a Romulus weapon, and the reporters keep talking about that as though it is some big ironic statement. Point is, he got shot in the shoulder on live television. They froze him in an A&E pod so they can do surgery later to get the wound sorted. They're saying the guy who did it was part of that crew who killed his dad. Maybe it will teach Sam that he needs to get out of that job and he's not as invincible as he thinks he is. Been wondering whether to call him. New York is in chaos. Well, more than usual.

15th November

News said he's fine. Good as new. No need to call him. No pictures or videos anywhere though.

1ST March

Got an email from Mr Remus. He says he's having some big operation in a couple of weeks, it's all top secret and he wants me to be there with him, because he's afraid. He must really trust me. I could sell all my Remus secrets to some big Newscorp. The guy could have anyone in the world. I forget sometimes just how lonely he really is. Should I go? Drew would be so suspicious.

17TH March

Writing in the waiting room, just waiting... where do I start? He's a mess. Since Times Square he's hardly left his house. He barely trusts anyone. So what does he do? He's now having surgery to replace his skin with some kind of bulletproof material. He said when the operation's finished his body would hold together if it was hit by an atomic bomb, or near enough. If I wasn't here I wouldn't believe it. It sounds like something from a sci-fi movie. But seriously. He feels so vulnerable. You could see it in his face. He can't cry, his eyes won't let him. So I did for him. In the whole world I'm probably the only person that sees him like this. In that massive house he's surrounded by robots and computers and holograms that do everything for him and keep him company. He also stank of booze, but I didn't ask him about that. Operation should be over in a couple of days. It's all done by his special creations, no real people anywhere. He still wants me around for this time, 'just in case', whatever that means. He's also given me the access codes to all the stuff in his house, like the butlers, the kitchen, TV etc. Even his artificial petting zoo. Pretty cool house. It adjusts its own temperature according to how you're feeling, and everything talks to you, including the fridge. It should tell me "look what you did to Sam you moody cow! You should have been a better friend." Actually it will probably say "stop eating so much you fat pig." Talking fridges will definitely help solve the obesity crisis. I should tell that to him when he gets out. I hope he's ok.

21st March

Writing in Sam's spare room. He came out of his big sleep today. I struggled to speak. The hair on his body is all (I assume) gone, so he's very smooth and bald, which is quite shocking in itself. He said it will grow back in time. But the weirder thing is his skin, it's now a funny colour, like a dark shade of silver. He looks like a giant Oscar statue, it's bizarre. When I first saw it I thought he may have been one of his creations. All I could do was hold him very tight for a long, long time. Right now I just want to stay and look after him. Is that weird? A couple of years ago I just couldn't stand the sight of him. When people mentioned the name Remus it used to made my blood boil. Now he's this big ball of fear and loneliness. Drew's been ringing me quite a bit, but I haven't picked it up.

24th March

Drew now knows the truth with me and Sam. There was a lot of shouting, and he threw his ring in the bin. He said some really nasty things. I'm so upset.

2nd September (29)

Sam was on the Chris Campion show last night. First media appearance in 6 months. He seemed really good, of course, he's on tv. His fingers were tapping quite a bit on the sofa so he was probably nervous, but he's good at answering questions, shows a confident exterior. Some that I remember:

Chris: Now that your body can hold against anything, people have started calling you the 'Godman'. How do you feel when you hear that word spoken about you?

Sam: Well first of all I'm not God, as we saw in Times Square. In Romulus we're trying to stretch technology to new places, so it can enrich people's lives more and more. I'm simply testing some of the more obscure ones on myself, but I think wouldn't it be great if people could live without fear of disease or injury? That's been one of the ultimate goals of humanity. To be conquerors over all our flaws.

Chris: What has the response been to your appearance? Since your operation sales of silver face paint have been enormous, and many of your fans have been trying to look like you, shaving their heads and everything. Not just a businessman but a fashion icon as well. (The audience went crazy at that).

Sam: Generally positive, especially when people hear why I had the surgery. I don't know a thing about fashion really so I can't comment on that. (well he does have he own clothes shopper)

Chris: What is the secret of your success? How do you keep going, how do you keep moving forward despite the critics and opposition and even violence against you?

Sam: My father was the most driven person I've ever known. But also I may have a guardian angel out there keeping me on track.

After the show I got a text from Sam. It said 'Hello guardian angel '. Corny but cute. I was mentioned on TV, sorta. Back to our fortnightly videochats. He's been listening to me moan about Drew, who keeps sending me annoying messages.

August 1st (32)

Back to journal writing again. Have dated a couple of guys, but I'm so worried my relationship with Sam will make things difficult. I don't want another Drew incident. Got a ticket for a flight to the moon and back (came in the post from a not so secret stranger!). That will be in October. I thought the fad of people looking like Sam would be over pretty quickly, but people are stilling at it. I've seen groups of them, meeting in halls and dressing in strange clothes. Someone even tried to give me a tract about their new religion (yes, it's come to that). They're treating him like some kind of deity. It makes me sick to my gut. Sometimes I understand why people are planning on emigrating to Mars. This planet is full of lunatics. He's just a bloke, he said it himself on live TV years ago.

October 12th

Oh my days, so high on adrenaline right now. Actually writing this at the Romulus Moon Base, A-MAZING. As the flight took off it was a bit sicky, but once we were up and away everything was so gorgeous. Got upgraded to 1st class "at Mr Remus' request" (felt bit guilty about that at first). Staff are super friendly. The moonbase is huge, like one of those lakeside resorts we went to as kids. Massive botanical garden full of butterflies – mad! Got a text from Sam a minute ago: "Wish I was there with you! Hating all this work..." Haven't replied. Not being rude, I just don't know how much it costs to send a text across space.

February 8th

Told Sam about mum's cancer. About how terrified I am and how helpless everyone feels. He went all a bit inside of himself at that. I guess he can't quite get his head around parent-child relationships. Or something about his mum. I can never ask him about his family experiences, he always changes the subject. Is that really unhealthy? Or should I just mind my own business?

February 17th

Managed to see him at his London apartment. It got really awkward. He was acting all serious, and basically said that Romulus had achieved ways of treating cancer indefinitely,100% gone forever, and mum could have the treatment, but no one could know about his intervention. It all had to be secret because of business deals and contracts he has signed. The treatment won't be available to the world for at least 20 years. So itll just be sitting in a safe somewhere. I said I could only accept it if he lets the treatment become public. He said he could not do that, and was breaking every rule just by talking about it to me. I just flipped at that. Went berserk. Almost broke something in anger, could have been his face if I had the strength. I love my mum. I don't want her gone. I just hate that Sam gives me all these special privileges he could change the entire world if he had the will. But he doesn't do that. Maybe he just doesn't care about anyone except me. He never talks about anyone else except people that drive him mad or people he just fired or people who are competing against him. Perhaps I'm the only reason Alfie is still working for Romulus – Alf keeps saying they are always putting him in roles he is underqualified for. I wish I never met that spoilt brat.

February 18th

Returned Sam's missed calls. I told him I wanted mum to have the treatment. Didn't sleep at all last night. I don't want her to die. He said it will be sorted in a few days. I feel better. It just feels wrong that he can just 'sort things out' by a simple phone call. If you have the money the problems just vanish. That's just the way the world is I guess, at its core. What I've felt about mum – I don't want anyone else to feel that. I thought I'd be so much more relaxed after that phone call, but I'm all over the place. Will go for walk this evening to clear head.

July 4th

Wish I didn't care so much about things like this. A truck full of home-made explosives had driven up to Sam's California house. The drivers pretended to be some kind of entourage service from his own company. They were actually Romulus employees. He managed to get security on it in some heroic way. But there was enough explosive to wipe out all the nearby towns, everything in a 30 mile radius. The guys were willing to die for a bomb to go off in his face. Did they not know the man is literally bomb proof? Wonder how he's doing.

July 11th (33)

That trial's been on the news all week. Those guys, seriously, braindead. They've got really nasty looking eyes. Ok, they said the July 4th attack was planned to be their 'independence day', independence from the 'prince of darkness' which is the Remus bloodline. Mental stuff. Conspiracy theories about how the Remus ancestry goes back to this cult who kept doing rituals to bring the end of the world, its all very confusing and a bit too weird. And then they keep showing videos of reactions from those Sam-worshippers. Dad calls them the Long John Silvers. There's a group of them that meet once a month in some big house down the main road. Can't imagine what they talk about. Its all a bit much to take in. Gonna try to nap.

September 30th

Went to see Sam this morning as he's back in this country and just wanted to check if he's ok. I hate him, but I still sortof love him. The guy is like a ghost now. Had small talk, ate some lunch, etc etc but I could tell he wasn't well. He wasn't eating very well cos his mouth hurt (?). I eventually get him to talk about things. Been noticing the alcohol smell the past couple of years, and the way his nose twitches. Turns out he has a serious drinking problem. He has tried to kill himself with drink. But it doesn't work, because of all his operations replacing his internal organs with super hi-tech Romulus manufactured ones. He's addicted to booze, but it won't damage him or make him sick or anything, so he keeps drinking more and more, it's a vicious cycle. He's meddled with a lot of coke, speedball, different combinations. Keeps him going, but his body isn't deteriorating like he wants it to. Just his mind. Next step I guess is to replace his brain with a computer. Oh yeah, and eventually I found out why his mouth hurt. Last night he put a ******* gun in his mouth and pulled the trigger. Found the gun in the damn kitchen drawer. It ached, but it didn't damage his BULLETPROOF BODY. The guy is 33, but everything about him feels like a thousand years old. Just being in the room with him is mentally draining. I really do care about him, whatever I might say sometimes. He said he doesn't know what to do, and he just wanted to make a difference in the world. I said there is only so much difference a person can make. Then I tried to convince him to retire, or take a year out, before he turns to mush. He thought about it, but he said there's too many cogs turning. If he stops, the world will stop. Some of the stuff he comes out with just makes me want to slap his face. I told him to really think about it. I can't do any more than that.

October 12th

I can't believe Sam actually did it, but I'm watching about it right now. In the dead of night he flew off in a private ship, into space, without warning anyone, not even hinting about it. Just flew away. No one else with him but his zoo of android beasts, like Noah's ark. And a load of his technology and gadgets. He wasn't even heading towards any particular planet or station, just the emptiness of space. He even used a cloaking device so no-one would be able to track him. The world has gone mental (well, more mental). Everyone's talking about it, how it'll affect the economy, business, dadedadeda. Big paper article 'Who will rule the world now that the Godman has gone?' They don't know if he's gone away for a trip, or gone to never come back, so Romulus might be going public. And all the Long John Silvers are devastated. Footage of them sobbing. I'm quite sad, but really I feel such a sense of relief. Is this his retirement? Did he finally crack and leave all these crazy people behind? Good for him. Sam, I want you to find who you really are. Wherever you are, keep looking inside yourself. Now you've got no one to pretend for.

November 5th (34)

With all the fireworks going off, been thinking about Sam a lot. It was about year ago that he went and the company crumbled to nothing. What has he been doing all this time? I sometimes think he's just catching up on sleep. Or go for a space walkabout and experiencing pure silence. If anyone is reading this, (and they probably will catch up with me sooner or later), I want to clarify some things. The man was pretty selfish deep down. And, dare I say it, had too much money. But he also frightened, lonely, insecure, confused, and tired. He didn't know any other way to live – he had to be surrounded by chaos. I've had a life of ups and downs, and aside from being Sam's friend, I've lived a pretty normal but happy life so far. But some of my best memories are when we would hang out, just the 2 of us, and we would go and explore places and talk about nonsense. We had fun. Everyone says what they want about him, but I actually knew him. And even though he's made my hair fall out with worry, or hit things in anger, I'm really glad to be a part of his story, and that he's been a part of mine.
***

The woman shut the magazine down and slipped it into her jacket pocket before catching the monorail to visit a client. "That was weird, reading all that again." She thought. With different names, her life was sprawled out in one of the most read publications around. "Was that really my life?" She thought to herself. She smiled inside as she looked out at the cityscape bathed in smog. She was so lost in her own thoughts she almost ignored the sound alerting her to a text message. Fumbling, she picked up the receiver and read the words. "Tell absolutely no-one – no-one! that you got this message. I'll see you soon. And I'll bring you back some actual space dust."
