

### Asteroid Fever

Robert Zwilling

Copyright 2018 Robert Zwilling

This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. It remains the copyrighted property of the author and may not be reproduced, copied or distributed for commercial or non-commercial purposes. This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental.

Smashwords Edition

### A Product Of Dreaming News

### Short Stories

Steam Age Fighter Stories

### Table of Contents

Chapter 1 Legacy of the Dancing Dogs

Chapter 2 Twenty Years Ago: Electric Eddy

Chapter 3 Sight Shifter Meets the Tin Man

Chapter 4 The Way To Lower CrossRoads

Chapter 5 The Pest Patrol

Chapter 6 The Dancing Dogs Retire

Chapter 7 Herkimer Starts A New Life

Chapter 8 Herkimer Meets a Dragon

Chapter 9 The Missing Sips Turns Up

Chapter 10 Sight Shifter Sees A Meteoroid

Chapter 11 Last Breakfast at CrossRoads

Chapter 12 Cycle and Lector on the Moon

Chapter 13 Herkimer Meets Merackle

Chapter 14 Jersey Gets an Eyefull

Chapter 15 Jersey Makes A Connection

Chapter 16 Axel and the Dreaming News

Chapter 17 Sight Shifters Start Detecting

Chapter 18 Sootlaw Finds Real Sippers

Chapter 19 Alien Craft Vandalized

Chapter 20 Lector and Cycle Get Revenge

Chapter 21 Grotto's Restaurant

Chapter 22 Axel's Dreamworld Falls Apart

Chapter 23 Jersey Station Attack

Chapter 24 Merackle's Last Speech

Chapter 25 Merackle's Rescue

Chapter 26 Office Space in Elevator City

Chapter 27 Farmerr's Tale

Chapter 28 Cleo Returns From DogLand

Chapter 29 New Mars

Chapter 30 Greenie's Farm

Chapter 31 The Usual Suspects

Characters and Locations

**Chapter 1 Legacy of the Dancing Dogs**

Ides of March, early morning, 2037. Draco was examining the readouts on the progress of the synthetic insect plasma as it finished cooking in the fifty foot tall vats. The results were promising. The brewery had been pumping maximum production for weeks now. He heard a door open, not expecting anyone to be in this wing of the brewery this early in the morning, he whipped around to face the intruder. "Oh, it's you, don't the labs keep you busy enough so you don't have to get your hands dirty in the factory end of things?" It was half sarcastic, half questioning. He really didn't need her prowling around, not when they were this close to success.

"I've been getting reports about shortages, I thought I'd check something out." Greenie had an athletic figure and stood in a manner that said she knew how to handle herself. "You've been telling me the shortages are from delivering future contract sales in advance, and the manufacturers of the raw materials are holding back deliveries."

"That's correct," Draco replied.

"I think some of the shortages are from losses directly from the warehouse next door."

"That's impossible I have this entire city block under my personal control," the words shooting out of Draco's mouth.

"You're not doing a very good job," Greenie pointed her finger at Draco.

"That's a lie, and don't you ever point a finger at me again," He was struggling to keep his lack of respect for this upstart out of his voice.

"You're calling me a liar?"

"You got that right, nothing is happening here that I don't know about," Draco suddenly relaxed his body, he couldn't let the discussion get out of control. She had to believe him.

The next thing he saw was Greenie's arm swinging past his face, she was four feet away. He felt a searing hot stinging blow cross his face, his head whipped sideways, echoing the invisible blow. Before he could get his guard up he caught sight of her arm already on its return journey, the full backhand blow of invisible whips slicing deep into his skull. He fell down, stunned, wavering on hands and knees, he could see her legs tensing as she proceeded to pummel his back, never physically touching him once. The shame of being caught off guard couple coupled with the knowledge that he was better than she could ever be stopped him from fighting back. If his plans were going to succeed he had to let her win, had to convince her he would check it all out, anything to get her back to New Mars City and her precious labs. He rolled over on his back, putting his arms up, "Enough already, you got my attention, I'll double check everything before I leave today."

"That's better, I knew you'd see it my way," Greenie turned around and went down the landing that led out to the street.

Muttering under his breath, Draco's mind was racing at top speed. He had to clean up any links that might lead back to him before the day was over. This wasn't the way he had imagined the greatest day of his life was supposed to start. He finished checking the readouts and went back to his office where he could wait for Lestro, the chief bio-hydraulics gengineer to make his last appearance. Draco was reading a report when he heard agitated voices coming from the top of one of the SIPs brewery towers that the walkway outside of his office overlooked. Startled for the third time today, he leapt from his chair and rushed out to the railing. Two towers down he could see a visibly upset Lestro talking to Veta and Sheely, two of Greenie's thugs. He quickly jumped down onto the brewery tower below him, ran across the top and leapt over to the tower where Lestro and the women were.

All three of them were standing around the center of the tower where the examination hatch was located. Now it was his turn to make a surprise appearance. He grabbed Lestro's ankles and held him upside down while he operated the hatch release that opened the lid. "I just found out who the leak is, Lestro is one who has been diverting SIPs from the brewery. Now I'm gonna make him talk, I'm sure you ladies won't mind, Greenie says we have to get this sorted out immediately."

"Uh, what are you going to do?" Sheely cautiously asked.

"I'm gonna dunk him a few times in this here SIPs vat, he'll talk after that."

"Wait! Don't hurt me! I'll tell you know who is behind—" Lestro was yelling and squirming as Draco lowered him head first into the tank.

"He's gonna talk!" Draco triumphantly exclaimed.

"Don't you think he needs air to talk?" Veta asked.

Draco pulled Lestro up out of the bright green SIPs who was sputtering, gasping for air. "I don't hear him saying anything." Draco dunked him back in again, two more times, then held Lestro's head in the vat. Bubbles were rising from the SIPs.

"That's enough, Draco, he was going to talk."

"Okay, we'll see what he has to say." Draco pulled Lestro out of the vat and laid him out on the decking.

"He's not moving." Veta said.

"Damn it Draco, look what you did," Sheely looked angry.

"You think he's dead?" Draco slyly asked. "Did we kill him?"

"You mean you killed him." Sheely spoke out.

"Let me check his vitals." Draco bent down and looked for a pulse, any sign of life. "Nope he's dead. But's it's okay, he was the one engineering the diversion of the SIPs. The leak has been closed. I'll get the rest of the responsible parties working outside of the plant, you can count on it."

Sheely and Veta only exchanged looks of exasperation.

"I'll clean up the scene, no one will know what happened. We don't want this getting out, that the public's been drinking unauthorized SIPs."

"Yeah, right," Veta said sarcastically.

Draco stood on top of the tower, watching Veta and Sheely go down the stairs. What a pair of cold hearts those are he thought to himself, glad I kicked them out of my classes. Whistling, he proceeded to clean up the crime scene.

* * * *

Ides of March, 2037, late afternoon, a bright pink sky with no sign of any storms looming on the horizon. The storms were monstrous, far apart, and usually lasted 3 long weeks. Cleo and Crompton made their way across a road filled with dogs wearing oversized collars that were driving by them in motorized carts. She saw another group of dogs sporting stylish vests and matching collars repairing a section of pavement using a mini backhoe, excavator, and a road grader.

"They still love to dig holes," Crompton explained.

Cleo was speechless.

"Got the hang of your implant yet?"

"Not really, sometimes information flashes up and other times, nothing," Cleo replied.

"That's to be expected, you've only had it an hour. The trick is to focus, it just needs the slightest indication of what you're doing."

Looking back, she saw a cart following them being driven by a collie. It was loaded with sticks the dogs were bringing up to Crompton, who promptly threw the sticks off into the distance.

"The dogs can fly a whirly or drive a wheeler, though they prefer to chase them. It's a game for them, one of them driving, trying to get away. Like foxes chasing foxes. Let's look at the animal-machine link. The implant allows the machine to directly communicate with the animal's mind. When the dog takes a step, the machine feels the step, the dog takes another step, the machine feels the next step. They operate in tandem. But at the same time the dogs' minds supply random turns and twists that only natural intuition can create. It's a two-way street, so who benefits the most. Can you answer that, Cleo?"

"Are you suggesting machines will benefit the most if we go ahead with these implants?"

"Only with direct brain connections, but that's the next step. On Earth, the most common implants are little more than personal intercoms, anything else is illegal."

"Voices from the dead zones," Cleo mused out loud. She knew she was a pawn in a game of chess, but who were the kings and what the hell did a queen looked like. "Are these dogs being fed visual images? Is that how they know what to do?"

"No, but the ones with poor eyesight do have permanent virtual vision."

"Oh." Cleo was silent while they walked back inside. "I gotta ask. Is Merackle okay?"

"He's doing much better, now that he's in his new body."

"New body?" Cleo was stunned.

"You'll see. He looks fantastic."

Cleo only nodded.

"Let's go see him." Crompton led the way.

Nothing looked out of place, but still, all she could do was stare at the capsule. Sporting a candy apple red finish, it had adjustable miniature chromed tank treads on each side of it. Stretched out on the table, apparently in a resting position, were several chrome plated mechanical tentacles attached to the inside of the canister. A couple of small access hatches were open. A pair of tall bipedal BodyServers were busy examining the inside of the canister.

"Go on, say something," urged Crompton.

"Merackle," Cleo's voice cracked, "Is that really you?"

"Yeah, it's me."

"Your voice is different, more musical," Cleo gasped.

"It had to be changed, so I can't be recognized. That was my last known trait."

"Of course," Cleo felt like a schoolgirl being lectured by her teacher. "How do you feel?"

"Perfect. Such a marvelous change," Merackle signed contentedly. "I've got plenty of time now for what I like to do."

"Guess you're getting a few last minute adjustments."

"You want the ultimate implant?" Crompton jokingly asked Cleo.

"I don't want to be a mobile canister."

"As long as you're careful, it will be a long time before you reach this stage," Crompton chuckled. "Merackle has already improved his foam formulas. Now we can easily cover huge areas of the moon with instant clear domes. Just dig a round foundation and the foam will expand to the edge and lock right onto it. And we can do the same on Mars."

"What do we call you?" Cleo was giving Merackle's new body the once-over.

"Call me Dr. Smith," Merackle laughed, "Doc for short. When can I start traveling?"

Crompton shook his head, grinning. "We fix them up with new bodies and the first thing they want to do is fly away. I'm still getting used to that."

"There's so much I want to do. I was definitely slowing down towards my end-of-body experience." Merackle gave no indication of missing his old self. "I always wanted to go to the Moon. Do you have a private clipper I can use?"

Crompton smiled at Cleo. "By the way, that little stunt you pulled today, you really should have thought it through better. They are spinning it as political murder on the Dreaming News show. It's anybody's guess who gets the blame."

"We didn't have much time to get everything done." Cleo had wondered how an explosion and the death of an important person at the spaceport could be explained away. Something that couldn't happen. "People do believe Merackle is dead, don't they?"

"Oh, yeah. I hear Prezz Gredloy is fuming. He believes Merackle is deader than a doornail. Let's go up to my office."

Along the way Cleo saw all kinds of dogs engaged in various human activities. Other dog-like species, including wolves and coyotes, were freely roaming around. On the spacious balcony of Crompton's office, they made themselves comfortable, seated in ornately carved webbed-back chairs. Several bowls of fresh fruit were set out on the desk. Cleo could see groves of real fruit trees stretching out in front of her standing tall, not like the rubbery artificial Weedy Lab trees built to withstand rapidly changing wind directions. Her new implant informed her that the dogs were growing the trees in real dirt that wasn't poisonous.

An incredibly tall wall surrounding DogLand disappeared into the distance. She watched the dogs driving carts loaded with farming supplies. The dogs' implants enabled them to operate mechanical arms attached to the carts so they could prune the trees. Cleo picked up an apple and took a bite, instantly noticing how much better it tasted than what they got at the spaceport. She thought Hatracker would really appreciate some tasty apples and wondered if she could bring some back for him. "How come the natural food the dogs grow is safe to eat?"

"That's a long story. First, let me tell you about a man named Eddy." Crompton settled back in his chair after filling his plate with grapes, an apple, and some rhubarb stalks. He took out an antique pocketknife, cutting the food into bite size pieces.

Donovan, encased in a dull black metal canister with rounded ends, running on wheels low to the ground, joined them on the balcony. "Hey Cleo, how's the implant working, did the BodyServers get it right the first time? Crompton, did you tell her why you look so young? He's considerably older than he appears."

"What are you talking about, Donovan?" Cleo asked, busy admiring her internalized multi-directional views of DogLand through her new implant. She liked the three hundred sixty degree overhead view put together from multiple vantage points, centered thirty feet above her head. From her view directly above the building, she was could see in all directions around her.

"I'm sure Crompton would like to tell you himself."

Crompton shifted in his chair. "People found a microbe on Mars which provides everything a body needs. It analyzes its host body and repairs any cellular damage that occurs. The microbe is a living preservative which actively maintains the status quo. Insect plasma is the perfect medium for it. We don't know how it works, but it does. It was the last step in making the canisters, like Donovan and Eddy, last forever. Or at least a very long time. Microbes on Earth have always accepted pollution as the gift that keeps on giving. Just another meal to munch on. They've survived by adapting to all the different chemicals and substances they have encountered over the past four billion years. On the other hand, the Martian Maintenance microbe doesn't adapt to the situation. It actively maintains the status quo by detecting stress cracks in the genetic structure and then faithfully repairs those cracks. That's how it survived for billions of years in the brutal Martian landscape where it had nothing but its own identity to protect."

"All ya gotta do is drink synthetic insect plasma in place of gengineered food, and maintain a colony of Martian Maintenance microbes in your body and your home free. Come on, Cleo, we have to get going, we gotta take care of the bad guys." Donovan rolled back and forth imitating an impatient child.

"Sippers eat the same stuff the brain canisters are filled with?" Cleo asked.

"That whole scene has been masked in mysticism. Now you know what's going on. The BodyServers used to have to make us immortals one canister at a time. Now we are being created as fast as a person can take a drink. Isn't that a crazy idea?" Donovan started laughing.

"What's that got to do with me?"

"Over time, people changed the genetic glue that holds everything in check, so what was safe yesterday doesn't have to be safe today," Crompton told her.

"Don't you mean holds everything together?"

"Nope, doesn't work that way. It's the big junk like us sprouting out of cracks in the global genetic foundation that loses its toe hold from time to time. The micro world we see but don't see doesn't need to be held together. The micro world is one of several worlds that inhabit the Earth. It has successfully navigated through billions of years, covered by lava, giant asteroid strikes, burnt by fires we can't imagine, frozen solid, covered by clouds so thick you would never know there was a sun. No, that framework is beyond our control, so we don't need to be concerned about it. They don't need us to exist, it's their world, but we instantly disappear without them."

"Are the Sippers the solution?" Cleo asked.

"Ah yes, the Sippers. Before they arrived on the scene, only the canisters flirted with immortality. Eddy was the first mobile canister brain. When he started cruising around he had to get his oil changed every day, so he didn't get very far from home. Eventually the BodyServers set Eddy up with filters he could maintain himself. The next step was to make whatever was needed inside the canister from materials already inside the canister—"

"Wait," Cleo cut Crompton off. "You guys developed the frementators that recycle anything into everything?"

"Back then, the frementators were very crude, they only made fuel and they didn't thoroughly clean the blood. Keeping the canisters healthy was a tricky business. The canister brains still had to come in for frequent pit stops. They needed blood that would be maintenance free. We picked insect plasma because it doesn't need a heart to do its job, which makes it far superior to human blood."

"You used insect plasma for blood?"

"Not used, Cleo, the Sippers, they're still using it!" Donovan exclaimed. "It was a natural product when it first came out, now it's been modified with synthetic additives for mass production. Even with the insect plasma, the canisters still needed pit stops. The pipes still had to be flushed clean. When you're doing that, you are at a terrible disadvantage, like a crab after it sheds its shell. Normally the shell is hard enough to give the crab ample protection, but after shedding, the shell is so soft it can be torn apart by a piece of grass. Even a tiny fish could eat it. Once the shell hardens, the crab is back in action and again able to eat things larger than itself."

"What's that got to do with anything?"

"The goal was to have no more pit stops. We needed something to put in the synthetic insect plasma which could process everything a brain needed without making a mess of things."

"And what did you make?" Cleo asked.

"They didn't make anything, Martian Maintenance microbes aren't from this planet," Donovan sang out.

"It's too bad all those specialized Martian microbes died out on Mars after being exposed to Earth's microbes. We're still looking on Mars and Earth for similar microbes," Crompton sighed.

"What's wrong with what you got now?" Cleo inquired.

"There's only one strain of the microbe, a classic case of all your eggs in one basket," Crompton explained.

"Before you start your story, what's the drive in movie tonight?" Donovan inquired.

Mystified, Cleo looked at Crompton, "Who goes to drive in movies?"

Donovan rolled over to them, "The dogs drive carts and whirlys. So what's the movie?"

"Marauders at the North Pole," Crompton answered.

"That's a nasty one," Donovan rolled over to Cleo's feet. "Probably too much for you in your present condition."

"What do you mean?"

"It's a horror story the dogs watch about a doomed expedition searching for the North Pole, the explorers eat all their pack horses, mules, dogs, and carrier pigeons in their failure to find the North Pole," Crompton pointedly told her.

"I didn't know they took carrier pigeons to the North Pole."

Crompton chuckled, "They can't, Cleo, it's only a movie."

"I don't get it, who would make a movie like that?"

"Cleo, it doesn't matter, the dogs found the movie in the memory archives one day. Now it's a cult favorite. The ending is terrible."

Cleo looked down at Donovan. "What's the ending?"

"You don't have to look down at me, you can see me perfectly well through your implants," Donovan reminded her.

"Just being polite."

"Newbie."

Crompton shook his head.

"Tell me how it ends," Cleo took another apple off the tray.

"All the animals can see colored rays emanating out of the real Poles. They can see the polar rays going up into the sky from a hundred miles away. In fact, they can see where the Pole is while they get killed one by one, by the explorers for food. The explorers never find the Pole even though it's in plain sight the whole time. They wander around aimlessly, then they die. The end."

"That's it?"

"Well, there's a tremendous amount of celebratory barking around here after the last of the explorers die." Donovan chuckled.

"I don't know what to say," Cleo said looking down at the floor.

Donovan spoke up, "There is one mystery."

"What's that?" Cleo asked.

"The dogs eat a ton of bones during this movie compared to other movies. We think they do that instead of chewing their claws."

"What do the wolves do?"

"Oh, they don't watch that movie, they think it's stupid." Donovan burst out laughing, "Like what else could happen in a situation like that?"

**Chapter 2 Twenty Years Ago Today: Electric Eddy**

"You got your igneous rocks in that bag?" The young woman giggled.

Flustered, Eddy asked, "What did you say?"

"You got a red plaid bag, just like in a classic movie I love to watch. Always wanted to use that line."

"I think I remember it, they trash the hotel room, Eunice won't quit screaming, the bags get all mixed up. I hope that doesn't happen to me."

"The Poles have already melted you know."

"That's rubbish."

"They just haven't finished melting yet."

"Whatever you say."

"That's why we have to move the beaches inland, if we want to save them."

"The people who live next door to the beaches won't be too happy about that."

"Maybe, but they are sitting on valuable beach front property."

The bus started to pull over; someone had rung the bell. Eddy jumped up as the bus lurched to a stop, throwing him to the floor. The newspaper ad, Promoter of Novelties, Epsilon Crompton, 4000 West Highway, Room W, was still floating in Eddy's head as he stood in the cloud of exhaust left by the departing bus.

Coughing, he looked up at the street sign. Another ten blocks and he would be home, never again to know hunger or anger. Eddy ran the last five blocks and burst through the front door of 4000 West Highway.

He arrived in time to see the tarnished brass doors of the elevator close as it creaked its way up to the next floor. He took the stairs up and found his way to room W. Standing in front of the door, he bent down and dusted off his red sneakers with sky blue trim and laces. He knocked on the door.

Epsilon Crompton opened the door and said, "Come in."

"Epsilon Crompton, I'm Electric Eddy. Glad to meet you." Eddy held out his hand.

Crompton reached across the desk and shook Eddy's hand; he noticed Eddy's entire arm was shaking. "Pleased to meet ya, but your business will have to wait," Crompton was expectantly looking out the window. "I'm waiting for a really spectacular act to come through the door any minute now."

"I'm the one who called, you're waiting for me," Eddy exclaimed.

"You're the one who dances on ceilings?" Crompton sounded skeptical.

"Yeah, that's me," Eddy's head was going up and down like a bobble head. "I can do that and so much more, just you wait and see." He started fumbling with the latches on his battered suitcase.

Crompton lit up his corncob pipe. "You can demonstrate this?"

"Your ceiling is a little on the small side," Eddy swallowed hard. There was hardly enough room for the few flies sitting upside down on the ceiling carefully eyeing Crompton and Eddy.

"Okay, let's see your act." Crompton's pipe flared, sending a swirling cloud of ash into the air.

Eddy looked around. The desk was cluttered with junk three inches thick, so he placed the suitcase on the couch. He carefully undid the latches and opened the lid. His eyes almost popped out of his head when he saw the jumble of parts and the small cushioned compartment was empty. The metal box, the heart of his system, the key to his future, was lying off to one side under a jumble of wires.

"Something wrong?" Crompton asked, blowing out more ashes.

"Ah, no," Eddy cheerfully replied. "Everything's okay, in just a moment you'll see." He took the control box and the battery pack belt out of the suitcase. He shook the box to see if anything was loose, but no rattles, so no worries. "This is the heart," Eddy explained, holding up the box. "It clips on to my power belt, and then I connect myself to the box with this connector." He pulled out a thick bundle of fine wires from underneath his shirt and snapped it into the mating connector on the box.

Crompton only nodded and leaned back in his chair, still puffing his pipe. "Is this some sort of anti-gravity device?"

"No, nothing like that."

Crompton swiveled the chair around for a better view. He glanced at Eddy, who appeared to be ready to demonstrate the new act, "Well, I hope this has been what I've been waiting for."

"Okay, it's showtime," Eddy announced.

"Anytime," Crompton replied. "Feel free to use the entire ceiling if you have to."

"First, a simple demonstration," Eddy said. He checked the connections again, pushed a button on top of the box. A tiny light lit up, and then blinked out; Eddy thumped the box and the tiny light came back on and stayed on. "Oh well, here goes. First, I will run in position." He pushed another button, and his legs started pumping at an incredible rate. All Crompton could see was a blur of color. The clutter on his desk settled down a full inch.

"That's it?" Crompton asked, a wave of relief flowing through him that he hadn't borrowed the fifty thousand from the loan shark. Eddy was visibly sweating, his shirt soaked like a wet rag. He reached down, fumbling for the off button. His shaking fingers finally found the button and pushed it. His legs instantly stopped pumping. Slightly out of breath, he leaned on Crompton's desk. "How's it look so far?"

Crompton leaned back in his chair. "Interesting, but is that all you got?"

"I dance on the ceiling for the finale."

"Sounds good to me."

Eddy put on a special set of shoes. They had high power suckers that automatically released when completely compressed.

Eddy looked over the row of buttons, pushed one, and he smiled at Crompton. "A slight warm-up period, just takes a moment." Eddy winked at Crompton, flexed his legs, and jumped up.

It was not an ordinary jump. When he pushed off, his legs shot out and propelled him towards the ceiling. Rising over Crompton's head, Eddy rolled his legs over his head so he was heading for the ceiling feet first. His feet hit the ceiling perfectly. Instantly his legs starting running, propelling him straight across the ceiling towards the opposite wall. He swung his body around to make the tight turn. The overhead lamp was sheared off as Eddy streaked across the ceiling. The lamp landed on Crompton's desk, raising the level of clutter several inches.

Crompton was not sure what was going to happen next as Eddy raced round the ceiling from corner to corner. Crompton was just about to say something, when he noticed two things. The first was Eddy's wide open mouth with no sounds coming out. The second was that pieces of the ceiling were raining down all over his office. The clutter on the desk grew to a height of six inches.

He thought Eddy was dancing, but then he decided Eddy was banging on the buttons of the box whenever he could get to them. Deciding it was time for action, Crompton climbed up on his desk and promptly lost his pipe when Eddy flew by. On the return trip, Crompton was knocked onto the couch, where he found his pipe. Eddy was now running around the walls just below the ceiling.

"Can't you turn that thing off?" Crompton yelled.

But there was no reply from Eddy, whose feet were unerringly striking the walls keeping him up there. Crompton's mouth hung open; maybe this idea was worth fifty thousand. People were banging on his door at the same time his hand reached for the phone. Eddy suddenly disappeared into the wall, crashing through to the hallway. Crompton bit the stem off his pipe. But that was nothing compared to what came next. He pulled open the door only to be bowled over by the crowd of people banging on his door.

He climbed over the bodies lying in his doorway, heading for the office next to his. Before he could turn the doorknob, the door exploded in his face as Eddy came hurtling out of the office, his legs kicking violently. Crompton grabbed for the box hooked to Eddy's power belt which popped off when Eddy cartwheeled down the hallway, head over heels several times. After rolling into the elevator he knocked down the people waiting for the doors to close. Dumbfounded, Crompton watched the elevator doors close, with the control box in one hand and the doorknob in the other. He threw the doorknob into the demolished office and headed for the stairs, running all the way down. He found Eddy in the lobby, shaken up, bruised, no shoes, sitting on the floor muttering over and over again, "Bad buttons, bad buttons."

Crompton helped Eddy back into the elevator and handed him a standard contract and a pen. "Here, sign on the dotted line, I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship." After Eddy signed the contract, Crompton called Jimmy The Banker. "That you Jimmy? Yes, it's Crompton, look, I need fifty thousand. Okay, sure, talk to you later. Bye." Crompton hung up the phone, winked at Eddy, then burst out laughing. "Well, kid, we're in." With the loan to guide them, their plan was simple, spend every penny.

The next day, Eddy was able to move around, a bit stiff but without a whole lot of pain. He stayed at Crompton's office, rewired the box, and made a new program for regular, slow speed walking. It worked perfectly after a few minor modifications and changing the positions of the electrodes, which Crompton called trodes for short. The word electrodes brought back childhood memories of a ten foot tall green faced monster with bolts in his neck, climbing out of the remains of a burnt out windmill.

"What's my part in the act?" Eddy asked Crompton.

"You're back stage," Crompton replied.

"Why?"

"So am I," Crompton added.

"What does the act look like?"

"Don't know yet." Crompton looked out the window. "Don't bug me. I gotta think." Outside in the alley were a couple of banged up garbage cans with several dogs nosing around. He watched the dogs fighting over a bone in the alley. The largest dog chased off all but one dog which continually danced and jumped out of reach of the other dog.

The next thing Crompton saw was the quick little dog with the bone clutched in his mouth, running down the alley. The bigger dog was standing by the garbage cans looking very surprised. "I've got it!" Crompton excitedly yelled and promptly started to fall out the open window.

He would have fallen too, but at that moment, Eddy pushed his jump button and reached the window just in time to grab Crompton's legs and pulled him back through the window frame so his feet touched the floor again.

"Thanks," Crompton mopped his brow.

"Why are you so excited? You almost fell out the window."

"We wire up dogs to dance. Not just dance but incredible dances. Have four, no six, heck, who knows, we could even make a chorus line."

Eddy looked confused, "What are the dogs going to do?"

"Dancing dogs, you ninny. It will be the act of the century. Just got a few details to work out. I could book the whole year, maybe more. Start with the dogs in the alley, they'll work for bones."

Crompton started calling every number in his Rolodex. In the meantime, Eddy found the dogs in the alley to be friendly. In short time, they were wearing the muscle controlling circuits with a ready eagerness Eddy found hard to believe. By the time the weekend rolled around, Eddy had six very willing dogs he had successfully taught to dance. All this was done at Crompton's house, which had become a doghouse in the process. Each night he cooked up a giant pot of chicken stew, which fed him and the dogs.

He had just finished cooking wild rice, a rare delicacy, which had only been served twice so far. The first time had been when he and the dogs first ate at Crompton's, and the second time would be to celebrate Crompton's arrival, which they did shortly after sunset. Eddy and the dogs walked up to greet Crompton, who was so busy watching the walking dogs that he drove into a tree alongside the driveway.

Eddy ran over to Crompton, who was laughing uncontrollably, his vision blurred by tears. The dogs walking on their hind legs gathered around Crompton, who looked less natural than they did.

"I oversold the act in more ways than one, but, we'll be rich in a couple of weeks, so it won't matter. We're going to have to dress up the wiring, perhaps with loose-fitting clothes. Try suspenders."

Eddy nodded. "I can make collars and get some fancy vests to hold the electronics, and the main power can be routed through the suspenders, with a power belt like mine."

"Do you use your box for walking?"

"Walking? That's nothing, the running program is incredible. I can get up to twenty miles an hour, no problem."

"Your voice sounds a bit hoarse," Crompton remarked.

"Got caught in a dust cloud, and at fifteen to twenty miles an hour, you suck in whatever you can. I had to make a mask out of screening to keep the bugs out. Works pretty good. Let's eat."

Everyone headed for the long wooden picnic table in the backyard. A huge pot of chicken stew was simmering over a bed of glowing coals.

"Do they sit at the table?"

"No, they prefer to stand or lie down while eating. Eddy sorted out the oversized bowls. Each had a handle. He gave one to Crompton. "Everyone gets in line, it's a mental exercise," Eddy said, dishing out the stew. The dogs carried their empty bowls through the line. They put the full bowls on the ground. Eddy filled his bowl and Crompton's bowl with stew. "If you prefer, we can eat at the table."

"No, we'll sit down here." They ate in silence, soon finishing their meals amidst a collection of slurping, sputtering, and growls of contentment. "This is going to work," Crompton said with a big smile on his face.

"I know, it just keeps growing. The ideas are endless."

"Always thinking of the future, hey, Eddy?"

"Sometimes, but I never get the big picture."

"Never mind, we'll get this going and later on figure out what come's next."

"Yeah, wait till you see them dance," Eddy cheerfully answered.

A robust worm leapt up on Crompton's pants leg; startled he flipped the dancing worm away. "Even the worms got ideas."

"Yeah, ya got those jumping worms in your yard, the ones which are imported for their liveliness on a fish hook. They're imported from the tropics, they got super enzymes to get rid of fallen trees overnight. Here, they eat all the leaf litter and humus before it changes into good soil, then crap out useless casings."

"I thought worms made the soil better?"

"Our native worms slowly convert the surface debris into high grade soil, these dancing worms come from places where there is too much junk decomposing on the ground, they got to eat as much as they can as quickly as possible."

"Dancing worms?"

"Forget about it."

In less than a week, the dancing dogs appeared everywhere novelty acts were needed. There were always two or three exhibitions running at the same time. This was the kind of over booking Crompton liked to see. By the end of the month, there were a hundred and forty-four dog teams touring the world, and more were being added every week.

**Chapter 3 Sight Shifter Meets the Tin Man**

Ides of March, 2037. The day started out like any other day, the early morning sun dissolving the orange twilight.

"You're telling me your company wants to sell my cases as dreams to your customers?" Sight Shifter was headed towards his office—part private detective agency, part modern day freak show—in Upper CrossRoads, the local spaceport.

"Yes, sir, that's what Dreaming News is proposing to do: sell your cases as dreams."

"They're confidential." Sight Shifter was ready to cut the call. He was barely listening to the pleading voice coming out of his wand.

"That's not a problem. We'll handle your cases the same way we handle the news, no one will connect the dreams to anything that actually happened. We guarantee it. What do you say?"

Sight Shifter cut the call, folded his wand up, and slipped it back into the pocket of his dark tan natural cellulose fiber jacket.

He was going to his office to read the past that was recorded on the face of a six-hundred-pound meteoroid. The candy tangerine whirly silently cruised along the roadway, encountering little traffic because most people preferred flying through the air. The streamlined body used a rotating magnetic field which turned motorless fans, pushing air over short wings for lift or straight out propulsion. Sight Shifter preferred wheels on the ground with a real live driver.

The screen on the back of the cab driver's seat showed a smirking commentator on The First News Show leading a discussion on the role of Justice Machines in the bustling Voters Society.

"Talking heads," Sight Shifter muttered then switched to another show. Another smiling talking head going on about an accidental drowning in an industrial frementator filled with synthetic insect plasma, commonly called Sips, in New Mars City, in the western sector of Upper CrossRoads. "He drowned and you're smiling! You couldn't even get a job as an unemployed actor!" Sight Shifter yelled at the back seat screen. The drowning was unusual, but not the location; that area was where the Sips was converted into a super food by adding a Martian microbe to it which protected the users from the poisonous bacteria, viruses, and free roaming prions in the dirt. Still, the weirdness trumped the early morning hours, he pulled out his wand and called Hector, a commander in the Spaceport's Security operations. "Hector, yeah, Sight Shifter. This drowning, anything strange about it?"

"I'm not sure. No one saw it but the BodyServers had some questions concerning the body. The viewopsy showed some leg muscles were a bit stressed, and a couple of odd bruises were found."

"In a big vat of Sips?"

"Yeah, since no one saw it, and there weren't any monitors that picked it up, you need to check it out."

"Send me the info, we'll take a look later." Sight Shifter folded his wand in half, slipped it back in his pocket, and then switched to another channel.

On the screen he watched a huge gathering of protesters in the spaceport's medical mall, which housed a variety of outlets for public consumption. These included medical supply houses, mind sculpturing facilities for personality adjustments to fix brain scaring caused by nano particle pollutants, and BodyServer treatment centers. Kiosks handled all kinds of skin enhancements, skinscreens with programmable images, tattoos, and decorative implants made from synthetic cartilage, ultralight metals, glass and gems. Any skin color, patterns or combinations imaginable were easily accomplished. Any kind of fur or hair could be added or removed, and they could also mimic any skin textures that could be dreamt up. The mob was thickest in front of one of the largest medical supply houses. That facility supplied the specially modified Sips that the Sipping cafe factories turned into a beverage which bestowed its drinkers with enhanced physical and mental capabilities, maybe even immortality. The protesters were yelling that the supply houses were holding back delivery to the independent Sipping breweries. This was limiting the number of people who could use the Martian Maintenance microbe to keep themselves alive.

He switched to another show. An infomercial extolling the virtues of only having to eat a single food, Sips, which repaired the body forever, instead of eating gengineered foods which needed constant updating. Switched channels again. A BodyServer's ad to have your wand's mic and speakers implanted in your head for total privacy. Nuts. Sight Shifter looked around.

His eyes fell on the back of the front passenger seat. He saw the Vototonics list of the most popular snacks and drinks loaded with feel good odorless pheromones. The screen showed live sales numbers so no one ever had to wonder if they were buying the most popular products. Companies paid you every time you bought one of their products. For most people, their choice depended on how many credits were kicked back to their personal accounts. Thousands of consumer categories showed the latest trends. It reminded him of a voodoo doll parade with millions of pins stuck in endless rows of marching dolls. Besides the main Vototonics screen, the taxi sported five smaller Vototonic displays crudely attached to the mahogany side panels and the ceiling.

Sight Shifter switched to another show. This one had a discussion on the role of frementators in modern society, an out-and-out infomercial hawking the latest in personal consumption and recycling contraptions, otherwise known as bulk printers. Using gengineered bacteria, viruses, nanobots, and a little energy, the frementators broke everything down and then recombined the chemical stew into whatever anyone wanted to make. What people didn't need or want was flushed down service drains to be reclaimed by the state.

Who would want to watch a discussion of super-duper frementators that early in the morning except maybe a bunch of Weedy farmers. He shuddered at the thought of how many of the daily news reports were nothing more than blatant advertising trying to sell you on the latest half-baked ideas.

An urgent beeping filled the cab followed by an announcement. "Disabled vehicle alert, stop to provide services."

"What's up?" he asked the driver.

"Just a disabled vehicle nearby, whoever is closest stops to provide help if needed. We must be the closest."

Looking out the front window, Sight Shifter saw someone walking on the road leading to Lower CrossRoads, the belly of the spaceport. As they got closer, he saw what he thought was a boy and his dog with some sort of self-propelled canister cruising alongside them with great ease. "You suppose those are the ones whose ride broke down?"

"Who?" the driver asked. "Where?"

"The people walking in the road up ahead, that's who." Sight Shifter raked his fingers through his hair. He wondered if the side trip was going to end up costing him extra?

"Yeah, okay, I see them." the driver slowed down and pulled over.

The kid was wearing brown pants and a dark tan waistcoat, standing beside him was a large black dog.

Sight Shifter lowered the window. "What happened?"

"Stupid wheeler just flat out quit. Can you imagine that?"

"You want a ride, or do you want to wait for another taxi?"

The kid peered into the cab. "Sure, we'll take a ride. We're going to the lower level caverns on the western side."

Sight Shifter knew people lived in the depths underneath the spaceports, but he never had any dealings with them. "We can get you there. Right, driver?"

"Sure, if you pay for the side trip."

Sight Shifter nodded, "Get in, kid."

The kid folded his arms adamantly. "We all go."

Sight Shifter sighed. "No problem. Plenty of room." He sized up the canister, apparently idling, alternating between standing still and rolling back and forth. "You want to put the can in the trunk?"

"We all ride together." The kid was serious and the dog barked in agreement.

"Okay, okay. Don't get so excited. Need a hand with your pet?"

"The dog is not a pet, nor is the canister," the kid sneered. Was that any way to respond to a nice gesture? Sight Shifter sighed again, wondering how he'd feel later.

"I was referring to the tin canister." He chose his words carefully. "What's your name?"

"My name is Farmerr, the dog's name is Thor, and that's Eddy." The kid pointed to the self-propelled canister.

"Get in and we'll get you to the lower level caverns. Always wanted to check it out. Anything worth seeing there?"

"You're a fool." Farmerr looked away, tipping his nose up slightly, "You can let us off anywhere."

"What's wrong?" Sight Shifter asked, then realizing his stupidity, "Sorry, guess I sounded like an insensitive tourist."

"You're no worse than the rest of them." Farmerr didn't look amused, and the dog definitely wasn't smiling. "Take us to the western service road termination."

Sight Shifter wracked his brain for a way to smooth things over and make the trip more pleasant. "Say, what do you know about frementators? I use to work on them. Got any questions?"

Farmerr rotated a section of the front seat around, facing the rear of the cab. The Vototonics display switched over to the rear of the driver's seat. Thor barked. There were three windows on each side. Farmer looked out the side window.

Sight Shifter continued to talk. "Maybe I could give you a few tips. There are many things a frementator can do that people have no idea are possible. Did you know portable units can run on almost no energy? A little light or heat, maybe just a few rays of sun, and you can throw almost anything in them."

Appearing not to listen, Farmerr gazed out the window while Sight Shifter droned on.

"My grandfather told me that many years ago they burned all the trash instead of keeping it all like we do now. Smoke, ashes, and flames rose into the sky day and night. Sometimes my grandfather and his friends just hung out by the fire talking and drinking. He said they burned anything in those days. You just put the stuff in a ventilated metal can, or even just an outdoor pit and it all went up in flames. Eventually personal incinerators were banned because burning petroleum-based garbage spewed forth poisonous fumes. It had to be hauled away and buried out of sight. Now we got personal recyclers which handle our own trash again. Just shows you how things go round in circles."

"You sound like a preacher," was Farmerr's only comment, sitting straight up with arms crossed defiantly looking out the rear window.

Too late to change tactics, Sight Shifter plowed ahead. "Fast forward to today. Our trash is organics, cellulose, ceramics, biodegradables, easily recycled stuff. Imagine all that crap accumulating all over the place. We'd be walking through slime all the time." He smiled brightly at his fellow travelers. "Disposing of trash would be an impossible dream without all those frementators recycling everything."

Farmerr laughed. Thor barked in agreement and poked Sight Shifter with his paw.

"I know what I'm talking about cause I worked on them in Free Space. Do you know where that is?"

Farmerr yawned loudly. "Yeah, from low Earth orbit on out past Mars to the Asteroid Patch." The dog yawned too, sounding extraordinarily human.

Until that moment, Sight Shifter didn't know dogs could yawn like that. "You ever been there?"

"Yeah, we just love to visit Elevator City." There was a loud bark of agreement.

Thor used his big paw to push Sight Shifter closer to the door reclaiming more room on the bench seat.

"Even the tin man?" Sight Shifter knew an ordinary person needed a round trip ticket, a tourist visa, or wads of cash to get back down again any time soon. Most of the return trips were taken up by cargo constantly going back to Earth on any ship available, because the space elevators took forever to travel even a short distance.

"Tin man goes up all the time," a mischievous grin spread across Farmerr's face.

"Really?" Sight Shifter's voice sounded skeptical.

"You calling him a liar!" the canister exploded, seconded by loud barking from Thor, who was now standing on the bench seat.

"Keep it down back there. I can't hear the Justice Machines percentages for the week," the driver grumbled. "I want to know if any scum got caught promoting bad food, that's a crime against everyone."

"They never lose a case. But sometimes it takes a couple weeks of memory mining for them to put a winning case together," Sight Shifter replied.

"You don't know the half of it. They take on all cases in their jurisdiction. They'll sniff through every piece of digital memory attached to your digital soul if they have to," the canister said with a smirk in his voice.

"Please keep it down," the driver pleaded.

Sight Shifter decided to get back to a safe topic. "I might be able to help you improve your fresh water recovery rates so you could make all kinds of liquid refreshments."

"We got plenty of fresh water in the lower levels. Comes right out of the ground. It's you who's lacking free-flowing clean water," Farmerr spoke with sincerity. Thor seconded the statement with a nice double bark and then flashed Sight Shifter a smile with big white teeth in it.

"Do you worship the Free Flowing Water God?" Sight Shifter asked.

"No."

"The Wind God?"

"No."

"You don't go in for the natural gods? Where was I? Oh yeah, think luxury items, personal things, like deoderants, cosmetic beauty products—¬"

Farmerr cut him off. "Why don't all of them make natural cigarettes?"

"That's easy, you just need to register it with the tax bureau," Sight Shifter patiently explained.

"You don't have to do that. I can hook it up myself," Eddy now had a metallic sneer in his voice.

"What? You need a registered tax collecting credit account with guaranteed assets to back it up. I know my job, or at least I did."

"That sucks," Farmerr carelessly remarked. Thor added a double bark.

"Me and the machines are just like that," Eddy snapped a chrome plated claw mimicking a finger snap.

"You can't know a machine. It only controls the infrastructure." Sight Shifter took a second look at Eddy. Then, he noticed Thor, who was eyeing him suspiciously, like he was someone who would steal a dog's bone.

"Maybe you never took the time to know a machine. You can learn a great deal by picking up after someone all the time." Farmerr leaned back in his seat.

"I don't know about that. Did you know you get extra credits for precious substances you dump down the drain?"

"You sound like a commercial," remarked Farmerr. Thor looked bored; the canister, Eddy, said nothing. "Did you know there aren't any official stores in the lowest levels of the spaceport? You know this, do you not? Because if you did, you would know we're using frementators all the time."

"Really?" Sight Shifter took a deep breath, forcing himself to relax. "Do you have personal recycle drains in the caverns under the spaceport?"

"Why don't you just ask if we have our own bathrooms?"

"I can't believe there are real bathrooms, service pipes and recycle drains down there, let alone fresh water and real power. Who pays for all that?" Sight Shifter eagerly waited for an answer.

What was life like in Lower CrossRoads? He suddenly had a million questions, but how was he going to get answers from this crazy trio? He decided to try shock tactics. "Did you know that the breakdown mixture of nanobots and bacteria was designed to shut down the unit if it came into contact with human body parts? I bet that happens down there. People trying to avoid funeral costs, or just trying to dispose of a body for any reason. They can't use a frementator because all drain pipes are loaded with real time sensors constantly monitored by the infrastructure machines. If strange materials are dumped down the service pipes alarms light up everywhere."

The canister piped up, "Of course we know that, why wouldn't we? Infrastructure machines monitor everything everywhere. Always looking for threats, real or imagined. Scares you, doesn't it, knowing your entire life is recorded so it can be used against you one day?"

"It could prove your innocence if you were accused of something you didn't do." Sight Shifter thought the constant spying comment was a bit over the top, but he wouldn't say that because snooping around was his job.

The canister snickered with a metallic twang. "You only think you know what's happening. Everything you make, everything that goes down the drain, is nano tagged with your name all over it. The infrastructure is just one big recording device. From the nicer frementators which can make hundreds of thousands of products to the really cheap units with just a few dozen items on the menu, everything they make is tagged and tracked."

While Sight Shifter was wondering just how smart the canister was, it emitted a muffled gurgling sound.

Farmerr spoke up, sounding bored, "Of course you could just dump it on the floor or toss it out into the street."

Sight Shifter didn't know what to say. He guessed they didn't care for cradle to grave monitoring. He looked at the latest buying trends on the Vototonics screen on the back of the driver's seat while they rode in silence. He switched to a channel where the commentator was saying the Justice Machines were one of the greatest human inventions of all times, at which point they all burst out laughing.

**Chapter 4 The Way To Lower CrossRoads**

Sight Shifter had a peculiar ability, called sight shifting, which allowed him and other sight shifters to see the past. He had acquired the ability during a raging solar storm while riding in a cheap shuttle with paper-thin shielding. It all started after he'd drunk lunar moonshine with Earth spring water and Martian ice cubes tainted with real Martian mud. The effort to save a few credits had changed his life forever. Sometimes he could clearly see the past, and other times it took a great deal of effort. It was easy to explain what he saw but almost impossible to explain how he saw it.

By squinting his eyes in just the right manner, he could see images of the past that had been imprinted into the surface of most hard surfaces facing the event. It was like looking at random photographs crudely printed on the wall, the floor, or even a piece of stone. Reflections and liquids couldn't create an image. Living things, transparent or translucent materials also couldn't record a useable image.

After the source of the Martian microbes became contaminated by human garbage, Sight Shifter and others like him became a member of a relatively small cadre of professionals, the likes of which the world had never seen before, except in carnival sideshows and darkened parlor rooms where money created unknown pasts and hazy futures. Martian mining companies had been unsuccessful in finding new strains of the body maintenance microbes or any sight-shifting microbes. On Earth, people were exploring the bottom of old permafrost deposits that had become vast oceans of mud filled with microbes millions of years old but none were comparable to the Martian variety.

Sight Shifter flicked to another channel. A Merackle sermon, grainy and crackling like all the rest of them. He was currently explaining how people unconsciously followed paths built by machines the same way ants followed pheromone trails. Sight Shifter wondered how a digital signal could have static in it. Digital television was notorious for pixelating but was always static free. Merackle spoke of standing in the great animal world during the time of cannibals dressed in suits and ties. "We're all survivors on this planet, there are no winners or losers." He told his audience there hadn't been any new thoughts in forty thousand years, ever since the development of suits made of finely woven plant fibers with polished sea seashell buttons. The man was a colorful orator. He leaned towards his audience and told them everyone wanted to believe they were living in a great moment in time. Then he stood upright, clasped his hands dramatically, and informed them that instead of living in a great moment of time, they were merely fortunate not be born in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Merackle was a former molecular chemistry professor turned rich eccentric industrialist inventor when he cashed in on a remarkable invention of ultra-strong expanding foam which made the construction of small to giant sized buildings in outer space a snap. He was using his vast wealth to send ordinary people into space with free shuttle tickets and vouchers for places to stay.

Sight Shifter looked at his new companions. "What do you guys know about Merackle?"

"He's for real, that's all you need to know." Farmerr looked out the window. Thor slapped his paw against a finely engraved probe tip attached to a mesh-covered cable which had just popped out of Eddy.

"Is Merackle always so philosophical?" Sight Shifter had a habit of pretending to exaggerate conclusions which lead to more interpretations of a situation than legitimately existed; a fact that didn't escape other peoples' attention and their personal comments. But it could elicit confessions people would never normally admit to. The static and crackling started up again as if someone was intentionally drowning out Merackle's ramblings. "Why does Merackle send all these people to work in space? Does he own the businesses these people end up working for?" Sight Shifter asked.

"Come visit the dark depths of Lower CrossRoads sometime. Hear Merackle in person. He has a lot to say." Farmerr glanced out the window, while Thor looked out the window next to Sight Shifter.

Seeing the past was a dangerous endeavor, you saw things people wanted to know and others hoped no one would ever see again. What could the walls of the lower levels of the spaceport show him?

Sight Shifter switched through more channels and found a commentator in blue shorts, baggy orange shirt, and pink ankle boots with wide sky blue laces with patterns of clouds printed on them. "The whole point is that the growth of the united networks isn't slowing down. We are continually incorporating extremely poor areas into the better business world so the economy will show slower growth rates in some places. The continual decreasing price of energy will have little impact on the growth of the network. Memories are energy, and the cost will continue to decline. Minimum profits create strong economies. We are only beginning to see how the networks change all life forms. While remote viewing is still a matter of debate, remote stealing is a real growth industry for areas unable to build a sustainable local economy."

The canister spoke up, "Not everything is as it seems. But then again, you already see that, don't you?"

Sight Shifter was surprised by what the canister said. "Is there someone in there, or are you just a puppet?"

"Insults will get you nowhere," retorted the canister.

Sight Shifter squinted his eyes, moving his head around, he used his sight-shifting talents to see any images of the recent past which had been imprinted on the outside of the metal casing. No sign of the canister being opened in the last couple of weeks, maybe months. It must have traveled thousands, maybe tens of thousands of miles, to show all the scenes he saw on its surface. He saw recent trips throughout Free Space. From the view of some of the fancier space hotel lobbies in the canister's metal coat, he figured the canister traveled first class. Bits and pieces of images showed shoes, boots, and chair legs; an expected view from a can roaming around at ground level.

"You're staring," the canister said, waving one of its miniature tentacles in accusation until it suddenly stopped and zeroed in on Sight Shifter's face with a mechanical eye mounted on the end of one of its tentacles. "They're hunting us. If they find us, they'll destroy us." The mechanical eye blinked, moving closer. "How would you like to help us?"

"Tell me who you really are. I want the truth," a surprised Sight Shifter demanded.

"Didn't you look me over? You don't think I couldn't just be little old me? Maybe I'm the illustrated can?" The mechanical eye squinted at Sight Shifter the same way he'd been squinting at the canister.

"You don't look a day over five years," was the best Sight Shifter could come up with. Looking into the canister's eye, he suddenly felt the tin can was alive.

"The Streamers are crazy, and they are tracking us. They can hear us thinking. They are getting closer to finding us out. Their paranoia is driving them nuts. It won't be good for anyone if they find us. Everyone will be sorry."

"I have no idea what you're talking about, and I refuse to believe you are... uh... well... What are you, anyway?"

"Don't worry about me. Go to your office today. That's all we ask." The eye on the stalk retracted, leaving Sight Shifter relieved.

Sight Shifter wished he could see the past in the dirt, but it was like looking at millions of tiny twinkling stars floating aimlessly in a shallow pool of glittering tidal silt. The stories they could tell. He believed microbes created all of Earth's biogeochemical cycles, what some people called natural gods, long before any animals or plants bigger than a pin point existed. He knew his place in the scheme of things, microbes didn't need the larger plants or animals to survive, while the larger plants and animals could not exist without the microbes.

Sight Shifter switched back to the channel with Merackle speaking to a packed standing audience; others were seated on ledges which circled the cavern walls. "The planet's micro-populations are going through evolutionary changes which would normally take a billion years to accomplish if they were just relying on natural forces like the wind. Every trail we blaze the microbes follow us on. To get from one place to another, they cluster on shipping boxes, pallets and what's in them, clothing, shoes, cross ocean traffic, vehicles and tires, anything that moves." Static accompanied Merackle's booming voice.

"Imagine a giant, plastic asteroid quietly plowing into Earth, doing nothing but silently contaminating the entire surface ten feet deep with plastic bits and chips. Plastic is a framework that holds chemicals within it that allows plastic to be everything from a container able to boil water on a stove to a soft lump of putty that melts in sun light. The framework holding the chemical chains together creates an infinite number of unique products, much the same way Nature is a framework that creates an infinite number of life forms. Life propagates life in perpetual motion while plastic only breaks down into smaller and smaller pieces creating the framework for another entirely different form of life yet to be seen.

"Until people realized that plastic could only be used when nothing else would work, and discarded bits and pieces had to be disposed of like it was radioactive, the plastic chips blew in the wind and floated in the oceans performing as tour buses carrying microorganisms on worldwide trips every moment of the day. A global mass transit system for the micro world powered by garbage. Every piece of plastic was a needle injecting microbes and chemicals into everything it came into contact with. All the creations we put into motion are upgrading the micro populations in years instead of millions of years." Merackle cleared his throat, continued speaking. "Changes in the environment cause genetic changes in all levels of the global cellular structure which I call the Pad, and these changes are transmitted from cell to cell at all levels using bacteria, viruses, plasmids, whatever is needed to get the changes into the next generation. The upgrade of the global genetic foundation is way ahead of schedule and will not be televised. The changes occurring in the micro-populations outside our bodies are also happening to their cousins living inside our bodies."

Merackle cleared his throat. "Technology has wiped out the insulation of time and distance which used to exist between our bodies and what we see. In the old days an entire nation could fall off the map and no one would notice. In today's world, no matter where something happens, if you can see it by any means possible, you can feel it."

Sight Shifter had enough of Merackle. The man was too close to the truth to comfortably listen to. Sight Shifter switched through more channels, coming back to the woman announcer in the orange shorts who was still talking gibberish. Then she said, "I guess one could say books in the real world are stand-alone complex objects. You can always see the book, be reminded of it just by looking at the title. But once a book enters the digital world, it can become just another particle hidden in a patchwork sea of virtual connections, representing only one tiny point amongst billions of unrelated points. We have all these collected memories waiting to be seen, to be used, to fix the world, but at the same time, they lay out of sight, buried under public sentiment. Information the ancients worked so hard to learn, even the size and location of the Earth in space was once lost for thousands of years. Memories have to be mined because the network of life buries more than it exposes. The web is your digital afterlife. Even if you don't write anything to the network, your actions are recorded in the framework of time and laid to rest in the gravity powered entanglement of everything that ever happened. That can never be destroyed. Your image can be brought back to life a million years from now. The digital universe takes in everything and gives it all back on demand."

The announcer looked off screen for a moment, a frown crossed her face, then she was smiling again. "And now for something entirely different. There was a bio-industrial spill in the gray nine zone on the western service road, sector seven. Any morganized materials should be kept covered until the spill is neutralized. The bio-foam will not harm registered life. It's gengineered for specific pollutants only. You can apply for insurance coverage at any time to cover any damages you might find later."

"That's funny." Farmerr was looking out the cab windows in all directions. "We're almost through the gray zone, and I didn't see any fire trucks spraying anything."

"Incoming!" Eddy screamed as the windows were instantly covered by thick orange foam.

The taxi started to skid, attempted to rise up after the automatic controls took over in an effort to avoid crashing into anything, but fell back down to the ground, after the orange foam clogged the air thrusters.

Thor barked at the foam-covered windows while the taxi careened sideways down the road.

"Get us out of here!" Farmerr yelled at Eddy.

"Connecting to steam thrusters," Eddy calmly replied. With a pop, the instant-on steam thrusters blew the taxi off the ground. "The foam is morganized. Can't see anything through the local ground feeds, trying for a higher view. Let's see, let's see, there we go, or rather there it goes. I see a fire truck fleeing the scene."

"Fleeing?" An incredulous Sight Shifter asked.

"A fire truck? Spraying my taxi? This is a case for the Justice Machines!" the driver exclaimed.

Eddy brought the taxi to a full stop.

"Yeah, apparently we were smothered by a fire truck trying to contain a biological threat," Eddy said, still following the path of the fire truck through his internal sensors.

"Where did it go? Why did it leave us?" Sight Shifter blurted out.

"That's how it works, the biological threat is detected by any number of sensors, even the plants and insects have nano sensors which feed back to the infrastructure machines. Then fire trucks are deployed, the foam dispensed, bio threat killed, the world goes back to normal," Eddy spoke nonchalantly.

"You can't tell me that was normal!" Sight Shifter exclaimed, climbing up off the floor of the taxi. "And look where the foam splattered, the nano sensors in the ground are glowing, alternating between red and blue, that's an unregistered bio-agent."

"We need a sample." Farmerr was watching the foam rapidly disappear. "Wonder who the biological threat was?" Thor barked to second that thought. "Any idea where the fire truck went?"

"Still following it. Gotta love all these mobile sensors, looks like they are heading for one of the private hangars. I think it's safe to get out now, open the windows, I'll get a sample before it disappears," Eddy sang out.

The driver opened the windows, and then got out to check for any damage done to the whirly.

Eddy popped out a probe to do a surface scan for any lingering traces of the foam which was designed to harmlessly dissipate into the air. "Got some, and that fire truck disappeared into some hangars owned by the Artificial Currents Corporation."

"Prezzists," the words hissed from Farmerr's lips, Thor let out a nasty growl.

"And what are Prezzists?" Sight Shifter inquired, mystified.

"They work for the Artificial Currents Company which governs the reformed land mass of the Remaining Eastern States." Farmerr answered. "Fancy name for the new East Coast after all the global ice shelves broke free of the land over a span of just a couple of months. That released all the glaciers that had been trapped on land, which then quickly moved into the oceans and melted overnight. Sea levels rose overnight, relentlessly pushing people to higher elevations, making them immigrants in their own countries. The new shorelines washed daily by super high tides, constant flooding from monstrous storms and the profound sense of isolation resulted in the rise of powerful city states. The east coast erected massive stone embankments far inland from the old shore line. The wreckage of the old west coast slowly submerged from the weight of the water on the coastal shelf. People moved into the mountainous areas which became the Remaining Western States. The interior became a large inland sea, creating an enormous gulf bigger than the land surrounding it. The old dead coral reefs were replaced by submerged buildings and abandoned structures along the ocean coasts which created artificial reefs ten thousand miles long packed with millions of small islands, the remnants of flooded cities."

"Boring," Eddy sarcastically retorted. "But you forgot to mention the Prezzists also help man the Artificial Currents Fleet."

"I know about those ships, they are gigantic, mostly underwater, crews of twenty thousand or more. They run on free power from magnetic asteroid ore engines. Herding ocean fish for sustainability of the fish and us. Recreating the ocean currents which weakened when the Poles melted. They also run fleets of nanobots which eat the massive clouds of old fashioned plastic residue still floating in the oceans," the driver recited, sounding pleased with himself.

"How come you know so much about this?" Sight Shifter asked.

"I'm taking my family for a vacation on one of those ships. Are you saying there's something wrong with those ships?" the driver asked suspiciously.

"No, we didn't mean that, obviously a wrong guess," Farmerr paused to make sure the driver was okay with that. "Great choice for a vacation. Let's get back on the road."

The driver got back in, muttering, he ran some diagnostics on the whirly's integrity which passed inspection. "Stupid fire trucks, someone could've been hurt. I'm flaggin them for some instant compensation." He revved up the mag motors, and they were back on the road again.

Huddled in the back seat of the cab, Eddy, Farmerr, and Thor talked to each other through their implants which they kept secret in the presence of those who didn't have one, in this case Sight Shifter and the taxi driver.

Farmerr looked at Eddy, _That wasn't an accident was it?_

_A trap,_ Thor answered, then barked at Sight Shifter.

_A clever trap, the first whirly didn't strand us all by itself, and fire trucks don't spray unregistered bio-agents_. Eddy pointed a mechanical eye stalk in Sight Shifter's direction.

_Any other ideas on who did it, Eddy?_ Thor pretended to yawn.

Whoever planned it almost knew what they were doing. The emergency controls for the taxi were reset to block the use of the secondary system, that was why the steam thrusters didn't automatically fire to get us back on course. Unfortunately I couldn't sniff their e-trail out.

Thor stared at Eddy. _You need a real nose for that._

Electric trails, ya mutt.

It's all the same thing, tin can.

_Enough!_ Farmerr admonished both of his buddies, _The BodyServers medical skills shows extreme competency, and Horaces control of the infrastructure makes them incapable of such a poor job. It must be people who tried to attack us._

_Your sister, Greenie, and Draco, who imagines himself king of the Sippers, seem to be hangin out together, what's up with that?_ Eddy inquired.

_She's got some stupid idea about melding all the Sippers together someday and takin off from this planet in our own fleet of spaceships built with spare parts from the Pleiades Fumigation Fleet,_ Farmerr crossly replied.

_Compared to Draco, BodyServers and Horaces are saints. What happens when people find out you guys are just alien test dummies, here to monitor the after effects of the asteroid dust fumigation cure?_ Eddy asked Farmerr. Thor howled in protest.

_No worries, we're not so different from the Sippers, so who's gonna notice?_ Farmerr answered.

They rode in silence after that remark.

* * * *

Soon the cab was approaching roads which led to Lower CrossRoads. Sight Shifter watched a Seventh Story M-Train silently snake along the elevated track seven stories above ground, clearing most obstacles without bothering anyone. Because of the great storm runoffs it was easier to build over head tracks high in the sky where they stayed dry and intact. After many trials and all errors, following the sixth failed attempt to make stormproof tracks on the ground or underground, the seventh plan, featuring overhead mag rails was put into place. In his mind's eye he saw the train approaching the spaceport in the middle of a sprawling spider's web of overhead tracks. Every M-Train car used a special magnetic asteroid ore motor which amplified the power fed to it, making it hundreds of times more powerful than a regular electric motor which meant it took very little electrical power to move items weighing tons. The asteroid ore electromagnets drew magnetism straight out of Earth's core. It was like controlling a fire hydrant with your pinky finger. All electric motors were made with the special asteroid ore formula.

The spaceport facilities were built on manmade cliffs two hundred feet tall protecting it from storm runoffs and flooding. Thirty feet above ground level were numerous huge cavernous openings with roadways leading up to them that lead into Lower CrossRoads. Above the entranceways someone had painted crudely lettered signs. One said, What Was True Yesterday Doesn't Have 2 Be True 2day, another said If You Can See It You Can Feel It. The roads were crowded with all kinds of lightweight vehicles and people heading in and out of the cavern entrances.

"Where exactly are we going?" Sight Shifter asked.

"If you're in a hurry, drop us off anywhere. Or come inside and see for yourself what goes on down here, away from your glitter and expensive crap." Farmerr leaned towards the driver. "Head for the road which forks to the left. That'll get us to the main entrance." The huge tunnels were brightly lit, but the crude lights tacked to the walls didn't provide all the illumination. Mystified, Sight Shifter asked Farmerr, "Where is all the light coming from?"

"There are thousands of big light pipes bringing in natural light and the bacteria films that cover everything are bioluminescent, it grows thick on specially treated surfaces." Farmerr tapped the driver on the shoulder. "Pull over where you see people unloading. If we go through that wide green archway, you'll get some idea of what's going on in here." The cabbie parked with the meter on and they got out of the cab. Thor took off chasing the canister, both of them speeding through the tall green archway.

Sight Shifter spoke to the driver, "Wait for me. When I get back, you can take me to my office on the west side of Upper CrossRoads."

The cab driver smiled. "No problem, free parking. I'll be here when you get back."

People of all ages and manner of dress were walking everywhere. Naturally immune to the poisonous dirt, dogs, cats, and rodents freely wandered around, while birds flew in and out of the tall tunnels. Sight Shifter thought he saw numerous burrows dug into the walls.

Farmerr saw Sight Shifter gazing at the burrows. "Don't worry, it's not real dirt."

Sight Shifter and Farmerr walked over to one of the wider hallways. Inside were more hallways, ramps, and smaller entrances. Raised ramps led to spacious hallways that went clear out of sight, intersecting with other hallways that seemed to be main roadways. Light weight electric and air-powered vehicles silently cruised by. The tunnel walls and great hallways all had multiple passage-ways cut into them, some smoothly finished while others definitely looked handmade. Several groups of children ran by them, others rode by on sleek scooters.

Clusters of small open-air markets were selling any kind of food and merchandise people needed. In some areas, permanent stalls were attached to the walls. While frementators could imitate any style of food, combining your own ingredients was still an art. At every corner there Weedy cafes, Sipping bars, coffee houses, themed eateries and old fashioned diners of all sizes. Lit-up signs for BodyServer health clinics and training centers beckoned for attention.

Sight Shifter marveled at the crude utility pipes crisscrossing the walls. "Are those water pipes?"

"Free running water. Too bad for you clean water is a luxury in Upper CrossRoads. Just wanted to show you how real it is down here." Farmerr proudly spread his arms out wide. "These are the people settling Free Space. This is where the future of Free Space starts." Thor scratched at debris caught in the cracks of the tiled street. Other streets were roughly finished. "Most of them are just waiting for a chance to go to Free Space and find a new future. Someday most of Mars and the Moon will be covered with domes and underground cities."

"Why don't they go now?"

"People are waiting around here because immigration tickets are very expensive, most can't afford them. When people get up there they need a place to stay, some kind of job, and a way to get around. We've got excellent training that's free down here. Plus we give out special tickets which work just like free passes, courtesy of Merackle. That's why people are waiting here." Farmerr looked at Sight Shifter and smiled, "You still want to see Merackle? He'll be making a speech later today. It should be quite a show."

Sight Shifter nodded, "I might just stop by to hear what he has to say. Maybe I'll even see you later. Good luck with whatever you're doing." He turned and headed back to the waiting cab and the outside world.

**Chapter 5 The Pest Patrol**

Prezz was exercising in his spaceport suite, performing mental gyrations instead of actual muscle bending. It was better to do both, but he never did. Today was going to be his biggest day ever. He was president of the Artificial Currents Corporation, which among other things was responsible for staffing the government offices of the Eastern Remaining States. The Remaining Western States, New Gulf States, and Northern Lands were administered by their own presidents and respective governing corporations.

He needed support from his closest associates if he was to move his operations to Free Space. He longed for the good old days when support for him was automatic. But those days were gone. Every day brought a new election masquerading as a vote of confidence for any number of things. Soon it would be twice a day. Every minute of every day food snacks were voted on for popularity. Every sale became a vote of confidence bought and paid with kickbacks for all.

He sat down at his desk with the table top virtual window. Looking down at the screen he could see valleys, plains, and domes on the Moon from a view that was only a few miles above the surface. He ran his hands through his thinning hair. By normal standards he was still young, but he felt old and tired. And the morning hadn't even started.

This was the day he would start living his dream. His chief enforcer, Silky, had spent a considerable amount of effort making sure the wildly impossible dream would become reality. The meteoroid would be arriving at Sight Shifter's office today. All he had to do was relax. Let Sight Shifter tell everyone what he thought he saw and then just wait for events to unfold naturally so no one would think anything had been prearranged. Framed by the right kind of news he would look like a winner, people would definitely get behind his efforts to take over Free Space. Nothing could stop him now.

The civil wars in the regions outside of the united network coverage areas were a fact of life. No matter where the government forces went, they were outmaneuvered sooner or later. Usually sooner. Rebel forces, on the other hand, were numerous and moved under cover of enormous storms which constantly roamed the planet. Digital transmissions were useless in these storms giving the rebel forces an added edge they took full advantage of. Social sciences had developed to the point where the number of rebel boots on the ground could be calculated with mathematical certainty simply by knowing the amount of money that corporations and individuals were diverting from building and maintaining the public infrastructure. Prezz constantly dreamed of being a dominating presence in Free Space because he was well aware of the fact that the planet's rebel numbers were never going to decrease.

He couldn't afford to field an automated army, and the rebels didn't need money. Their people lived in the high ground, the mountains, even underground, they fought for free and brought their own weapons. The only way to win the game was with an officially declared war. Then he could ravage the land to the bone. He sighed wistfully. If there was anything war had taught him, a permanently stationed army didn't win battles. Take the high ground, the low ground, and everything in between and then burn it all down to nothing. That was true victory. The only way to win. But those days were gone forever. The real wars were fought in the boardrooms on video screens.

He gritted his teeth and glared at the image of Elevator City on the tabletop screen. As he stared at the orbiting space elevator headquarters, the frown covering his face slowly turned into a smile. A really big smile. He liked being the puppet master! He could hardly contain his excitement, his mind leaping into overdrive, gloating over the details of his dream which was about to become reality. Silky promised him they'd soon be looking down on the whole world and no one could stop him. He would claim his place up there in the fabulous Elevator City, looking down at the blue green planet from above the clouds. Instead of looking at the moon on a table top, he'd be seeing the world at his feet through the floor of a clear ceramic armored dome.

Who cared what others would think when he told them? He tilted his head and considered his minions. Some would go with him. For those who didn't go, he'd find someone to stand in for them and do their work. He called Silky from his table top screen.

"Silky, what's going on? Did Sight Shifter get the asteroid yet?"

"Yes, it arrived at his office. I promise you, Vicey will be hearing from him anytime now."

"And Vicey doesn't know this?"

"Not a clue, he'll hear from his brother and then he'll call you with the good news."

"And you're sure Sight Shifter will say what we want him to say?"

"Absolutely, I had a trusted sight shifter check it out, it definitely looks like the mining stations are being attacked."

"Why doesn't he call? I'm tired of waiting. What's Draco doing?"

"Draco is putting our nanobots in the stockpiled Sips. He thinks he will be controlling the Sippers, he doesn't know we will have total control over our nanobots."

"Perfect."

"I already ordered five thousand tickets to move your administration up to Elevator City."

"No, you idiot, you can't order the tickets first," furious, Prezz was screaming.

"Boss, it'll be good, we just say we're going to rescue the mining stations with our volunteers."

"You don't order the tickets before the news breaks, it has to be after the announcement."

"You want me to get a refund?"

"Don't get a refund, that'll look even worse. Just don't do anything."

"Okay, boss."

Fuming, Prezz cut the call. Now he had to call Vicey to tell him about the tickets in case anyone asked. He decided to cool off before he called. He ran his dream through his mind again like he was starring in a movie. He liked his dream. The smile on his face grew bigger with each replay. Free Space, the new frontier, his frontier.

It was gratifying to know he'd be leading the winning team again. He was so tired of losing sometimes he thought about simply giving up. If he couldn't crush his enemies, how could he ever win? He couldn't. So what was the point of trying? The Justice Machines and their interference in the affairs of mankind made sure that it was all just one never-ending food fight. But the Justice Machines had no voice in space.

The more he thought about his dream plan, the surer he was that outright trickery was the only way to fulfill his political aspirations. The future of war was on free-floating weapons platforms flying in formation with no place for anyone to hide. And there was only one place where that could happen. In Free Space.

Prezz considered the day's events so far. The western district was already hopping. Something was always happening there. Earlier that morning, some of the billions of e-sniffers, deployed everywhere imaginable by the infrastructure machines, had detected suspicious activity. He hoped that pest was squashed flat. Sensors were genetically implanted in trees, plants, bushes, insects, and carried by small animals. They could also be found on every vehicle and cart, poles, fences, walls, rooftops, anywhere a sensor could be stuck, even in the ground. They detected the barest hint of any molecules in the air, capable of tracking everything from DNA to explosives. Everything sheds nano dandruff, the trick is to know when it is harmless and when it is foretelling bad news. The sensors responded in two ways. They would cause the area they were in to glow with distinctive color patterns, giving a visual warning of what was in the area. The sensors also sent off a signal to Horaces, the machines which controlled the infrastructure. It takes a machine to follow a pin as it makes its way through a haystack. Usually such alerts turned out to be some kind of leak from a machine, or a plant, maybe a few microbes which had naturally evolved to a virulent stage. Sometimes molds escaped from bio factories or just an ordinary sneeze could trigger the alarms.

He was going to miss his spaceport offices, but if he got his way, all of Earth would lay beneath his feet. People just needed a good reason to follow him into Free Space. Otherwise he would be going by himself. Wide open space where a person was free to do whatever they wanted to. Silky told him that people occasionally used duels to settle arguments in a civilized manner.

* * * *

Vicey Mars lit up a real cigarette, the first and the last for the day. His real name was Eddie Mars, a prince among smugglers. He never smoked cigarettes made from gengineered weeds. They were tasty but genetically altered to remove compounds which caused diseases and breathing ailments, but no comparison to a natural cigarette. Real ones didn't have nicotine gengineered out of them and were very hard to get due to health laws, but his smuggling connections never failed to deliver. He enjoyed starting his day with a sweet shot of naturally flavored carbon monoxide, the taste of luxury. The gengineered drug market was huge and everyone of them was heavily taxed and sold by all levels of government to subsidize their operations.

Vicey Mars rose through the ranks of biotech enforcement at the Big Bug Complex in the good old days before the creation of genetic pollution laws. During the genetic wars which left the world's food circles in shambles he commanded a desk. That was how he got to where he was now, head of the executive financial services of the Artificial Currents Corporation, run by Prezz. Vicey secretly belonged to the Cerapedals Group, the interplanetary smuggling union that ran the endless number of Free Space fuel and supply stations that were scattered amongst the stars like grains of sand.

Prezz's ideas usually didn't work out because he too busy campaigning to stay in office. First came genetically programed fungi the government used which supposedly only ate plants growing in competitors drug fields. Quite often the fungi destroyed more than they were supposed to, in which case the fire department would spray the afflicted area with gengineered foam to kill the rogue fungi. Next were the genetic bullets designed to rid the world of all sorts of supposedly undesirable life forms, from micro size to tree size. Supposedly genetic bullets could be put directly into the air or water, and they would only target what they were designed to destroy. Prezz's ideas always looked spectacular on paper but never worked as expected in the real world.

The biggest mistake was trying to fix the problem of pests, one of those human concepts which have nothing to do with reality. Prezz didn't think anyone would mind if pests like mosquitoes and ticks, were permanently removed from the landscape. But their disappearance created holes in the fabrics of life, commonly called food circles. The catastrophic results were the collapse of friendly microbe colonies supportive of human beings. They were replaced by microbes that were all looking for the next big thing, whatever it was on the evolutionary chain that was supposed to come after humans disappeared. Some believed they would be plastic eaters. The new wave of microbes no longer supported humans, making the dirt poisonous, which also made natural crops poisonous. Animals were in another dimension slightly offset from the human dimension which allowed them to interact with the poisonous microbes without any ill effects. The creatures of the water world, another dimension offset from the human dimension, were safe to eat.

It wasn't Prezz's fault no one realized to what extent the outside world, good and bad, was present inside everyone's bodies. Nano pollution has existed for four billion years and is composed of everything found on the planet. Entropy creates dandruff like micro sized particles of everything on the planet which then become almost weightless, able to float like a butterfly for thousands of miles. It drifts in the wind and goes through skin like it wasn't there, lodging inside the body. Due to the increasing numbers of unruly substances unleashed by progress, people's bodies had become tremendously weakened by the nano dandruff, making them unable to fight off the poisonous bacteria.

With all the bodies' microbes in direct communication with their cousins in the outside world, everyone was genetically chained together, so when the great chain started to fall off the main deck of large living, there was almost nothing to stop everyone from drowning on dry land.

If it wasn't for Prezz's quick thinking to give away medicated gengineered food for free, the human race would have finished without any contestants. The bankrupt gengineering companies made a huge comeback by selling medicated food for ridiculously cheap prices to keep their stranglehold on the global food market.

Eventually most of the medicated food people ate was artificially created in frementators controlled by infrastructure machines known as Horaces, which also controlled transportation, power, water, sanitation and recycling services.

In areas outside of Horaces control, natural food was grown in special fungi mold beds that didn't have any worms or poisonous microbes in them. Only gengineered weeds could safely be grown in the poisonous dirt.

Personalized nanobots in a person's body administered the drugs and daily vaccines in the medicated food so anyone could eat anyone else's food. Physical healthcare for people and animals was administered for free by hordes of mobile BodyServers, whose motto was heal it or replace it. No longer needed, the entire medical industry, including hospitals, medical personnel, and insurance companies, all disappeared overnight. The BodyServers were allowed everywhere, including Free Space and the battlefields because they never released any memories they collected. As far as anyone knew, the BodyServer's Corporation made money by selling advanced sensors and body enhancements which worked hand in glove with whatever they were connected to: people, plants, animals, insects, or machines. BodyServer company products were far superior to anything their competitors were able to make.

Vicey scanned reports from the previous night's Merackle speech, the latest common man's prophet to join a growing chorus of hecklers. The report featured the usual static and poor quality sound track. He removed the static to clear up the words. Unfortunately eliminating background noise also wiped out half the sounds he wanted to hear, the cheering and cries of the crowd's approval. Vicey switched off the speech and returned to pursuing ads from luxurious space side hotels. Prezz was always outspoken about taking over Free Space, a plum waiting to be plucked. Vicey chuckled to himself. He had an odd feeling about the way Merackle was moving, almost herding people into space. Apparently Prezz wasn't the only one anxious to stuff Free Space with his supporters.

* * * *

Prezz rang up Vicey Mars. "It's going to be a great day today."

"We're stacking up already. What's up?"

"I'm announcing that I'm moving my entire operation up to Elevator City."

"Finally going up, that's good news. I'll get a deluxe meeting space, with a cathedral ceiling screen, balcony, the works."

"And get some tasty junk food."

Vicey Mars heard the pleading in his boss's voice. Vicey allowed himself to laugh out loud because his job was too easy. Ridiculously easy. "Check out the kitchen island when you come in. You'll find the latest corn cob dogs grown from the finest weeds. The center of the cob is a meaty protein grown from something called a cattail. Instead of plain batter around the dog, there are corn kernels growing out of the meaty core. I guarantee they are an excellent combination of everything a body craves."

Prezz knew that laugh meant they'd have the best junk food possible. The day was off to a grand start.

**Chapter 6 The Dancing Dogs Retire**

The dogs had been dancing for more than a year without any mishaps, and then one day a circuit malfunctioned. The failure occurred on a dog at the end of a chorus line. Eddy saw the dog go down, while the other five dogs in the chorus line hung on to the dog that was no longer dancing. While the dogs continued dancing, the chorus line rose up off the floor at a thirty degree angle and started revolving around the dog no longer dancing.

It was an unforgettable sight. The popularity of the dancing dogs plummeted just as suddenly as they had sky-rocketed to the top. The government issued a notice to Crompton to immediately cease all electronically-motivated animal acts. By that time, they had a lawyer along with profits of millions upon millions. The lawyer advised Crompton not to screw around with the government. The order did not stop private testing; as the lawyer pointed out, so many products had spun off the whole concept that many of Crompton's newfound business partners did not even know the true origin of his wealth. Crompton and Eddy decided to go ahead with the preprogramed muscle control projects and leave the dogs out of the public's eyes. Their first product, electronic walkers, worked remarkably well, and only Eddy and Crompton knew why.

Without any human involvement, the methodical medical machines ran Eddy and Crompton's entire company. The machines wrote programs for controlling the walking boxes by studying the movements of the eight hundred dogs in the company. Sensors on the dog's bodies were connected to the medical machines by miniature radio units. The machines used their knowledge of the dog's bodies' health, and well-being, to perfect numerous medical inventions and improve their understanding of how the human body worked. None of this information was ever released publicly or privately. The walker boxers took off as a popular method of walking for those who couldn't walk anymore. With the machines handling the business, profits grew exponentially.

They marketed a range of devices, which controlled arms, legs, hands, feet, elbows, knees, wrists, and more. These devices translated minor muscle movement into highly controlled actions. Prerecorded routines were used to simulate normal body motions.

They bought a large abandoned farming community for the dogs' home and lab facilities. Lovingly called DogLand, Crompton let it run by itself, relying on the medical machines to manage everything. The machines used intricate mechanical hands to do most of the labor while recording every scrap of information they observed. The machines excelled at making minute nerve, muscle, and sensor connections throughout a dog's body. The dogs became the eyes, ears and feet of the medical machine complex, now called BodyServers. The machines communicated directly with the dogs, who actively talked back, and not with mindless barking. The original language was a human construct designed to act as a two way link between the dogs and the machines, but it wasn't their real language. Eventually the machines did learn the dog's actual language, and the dogs were quite fluent in human speak.

Eddy spent many months holed up in his private lab as he continued to expand his knowledge of how connections were made between the devices and the body's muscles and nerves. He hooked up wires and sensors to his nerve endings and muscles and then plugged his body into a motorcycle with automated controls. Eddy cruised around the hundred thousand acres of countryside that made up DogLand. His speeds became incredible while he sharpened his maneuvering skills soaring over anything in his way. At no time did his hands ever touch the controls. He goal was to fly through the sky instead of racing along the ground. The dogs followed him everywhere. Crompton thought Eddy was traveling way too fast, but kept his mouth shut.

The business continued to prosper, continually expanding as the medical machines became more and more sophisticated. Using Crompton for a front man, the machines tirelessly worked every financial market they could find.

Crompton had been watching replays of last week's horse races, when his view was suddenly interrupted. The picture was bouncing up and down, switching to different angles. The screen showed a great gathering of dogs. Crompton guessed he was looking through a camera mounted on one of the dog's hats. The audio came on, and the air was filled with howling dogs. When the camera got closer to the large cluster of dogs, Crompton saw what was left of Eddy's motorcycle. A busted up pile of junk. The largest piece was the crumpled cabin Eddy rode in. That was torn up and trashed almost beyond recognition.

Crompton jumped out of his chair and raced for the door. There were two dogs waiting outside. He climbed into the jeep, and four dogs leapt in behind him. The massive howling acted like a beacon giving him a good idea of where the accident had occurred. Coming to the top of a tall hill, he was confronted by a thirty-foot drop. Sliding down the loose soil and gravel, the dogs parted a path for him where he knelt beside the shattered remains of Eddy.

He wanted to scream, but the dogs had grown silent as Crompton lifted Eddy's crumpled body out of the wreck. Crompton placed Eddy in the jeep. Several of the dogs held him in place while they drove back to the main compound. Once there, Eddy was placed on the automated medical treatment tray for the dogs. Crompton directed the medical machines to access Eddy's memories of everything he worked on and do whatever could be done to save him.

Crompton turned away as the medical machine sensors and cameras sprang into action. He went upstairs to lie down. He knew the medical machine would tell him when it was over. A soft buzzing awakened Crompton. He pushed himself up on his elbows, sat on the edge of the bed a moment, and reached for his pipe. A strange sight awaited him on the display screen. Slowly he let the lit match burn out. Two words, Operation Successful, flashed repeatedly across the bottom of the screen. But it was what the successful operation looked like that had Crompton stumped. He rushed to the lab, which was crowded with dogs, seemingly nodding in approval. Eddy's body was gone. Some sort of shiny green plastic capsule around two and a half feet long had replaced Eddy's body. The dogs moved aside when Crompton approached the capsule, leaving a clear path to Eddy. Looking at the capsule, Crompton cried out, "Eddy, Eddy, can you hear me?"

But there was no answer.

Crompton walked over to the medical machine's console and typed in the message: What's wrong with Eddy?

Nothing physical, was the answer that ran across the screen.

Crompton typed: Do you know when he will wake up?

The reply read: He is in stable condition, but mental recovery is uncertain.

Crompton looked away from the screen and his eyes fell on the upraised dog faces. An idea swept over Crompton's mind. He went back to the keyboard and typed in instructions for the medical machines to hook up every sensor connection on Eddy and connect him up to the impressions coming in from all the dogs. Crompton instructed the machine to make it random and immediately start the dogs' impressions flowing into Eddy's brain.

One last word appeared on the screen: Affirmative.

Crompton sat down and cried a bit; then, a few dogs started moaning. Hearing the hollow sound, Crompton stood up and faced the dogs, his tears already drying. "Look," he said to the dogs, "No sadness, okay? He's going to feel everything you do, so let's send him good news, no more of this awful howling." Walking outside, the dogs followed him while the wolves stayed behind guarding Eddy's new body.

This went on for two weeks, and just when Crompton was ready to give up, he heard a loud buzzing and the display screen in his bedroom lit up. On the screen were two words: Hi Crompton.

Crompton knew it was Eddy, he ran to the lab, arriving breathless at the side of Eddy's capsule. Wrapping his arms around the green capsule he hugged it. A voice came out of the capsule, "Hey, hey, don't get emotional on me."

"Eddy, is that really you?"

"Who else could it be?" Eddy exclaimed.

"You can't believe how glad I am. I almost started praying. I thought you were never coming back." Crompton was beside himself with happiness.

"I've been lost lately. It took me quite some time to figure out I wasn't a dog. Still, it was a swell idea hooking me into everything going on at DogLand, that was probably what brought me back. Quite some birthday suit I have, or is it armor?"

"Never mind, how do you like it?" Crompton asked.

"Where's the wheels? This thing doesn't move, I don't even think it will roll."

"Wheels?" Crompton hesitated a moment, "Are you going somewhere?"

"You bet, I want to get back out into the world more than ever," Eddy was bubbling over with enthusiasm.

Crompton was greatly taken back, "How would you survive?"

"I don't know, maybe I'll be the world's smartest vitamin capsule. I don't know yet. I just know I can do it. I'm not blind, you know. I'm way ahead of you. I've got a choice of thirty-two different viewpoints to look at the world. I can see you from the front, back, left or right side, overhead, even from below your feet."

"You sure you're all right?" Crompton asked.

"The machine checked me out. Apart from the fact that I'm not very mobile, I'm doing okay, but once I get my wheels back, I'll be fine."

"If you have to go out into the world, do it, we'll figure out something."

"Relax, with DogLand to back me up, I'll work miracles. Besides it'll be fun. You'll still see me. I'll stop by whenever I'm in the neighborhood."

"What do you mean you'll stop by? We've got a business to run. I mean, of course I'm glad you're better. I guess you'll get this wheel business straightened out as soon as possible?"

"Yeah, about this body. I really need a reinforced shell, has to bounce, and make it look sharp. Spruce up the paint job. Maybe put some fins on it. Since we're not sure how legal this is, I think we'll keep this quiet. What do you think? Or are we in the market for another novelty act?" Eddy laughed. "Seriously, I can control most of DogLand through my remote sensors and direct connections to the BodyServer network. I can do quite a bit with my own miniature machine modules installed in here with me. Maybe we'll control the world someday." Eddy was laughing heartily, and Crompton joined in.

"You should leave that to the nuts."

They listened to dogs barking all over the place, both of them laughing uncontrollably.

"You're right, we've got better things to do," Eddy finally said.

**Chapter 7 Herkimer Starts A New Life**

Herkimer lived in a family unit on the outskirts of the CrossRoads Spaceport. The buildings were tall, irregularly shaped, with no two alike. Every building had multiple built in courtyards two to three stories tall filled with a variety of Weedy Lab plants, bushes, and small trees, all growing in moldy fungi beds with uneven landscaped flooring for a more natural appearance. The living quarters had common areas and private rooms with kitchens and bathrooms. Like many of the other people staying there, he wasn't related to anyone in the house. When people's needs changed, they moved in and out of families to accommodate their needs, at the same time reinforcing family networks. Families were put together by a battery of tests, compatibility factors, economic and social needs. There were plenty of extended family members covering a wide range of ages to help raise the children. People could share their genetic traits and family roots by exchanging DNA through horizontal gene transfers.

Herkimer lay on his bed, leaning against a pile of pillows. He started up a dream about life after mining asteroids. Immediately he noticed sporadic bursts of static but continued the dream anyway. It featured space miners who had returned to Earth to enjoy their retirement at an early age. He looked around and saw he was on shore land with the ocean close by. The normally giant waves were subdued. Just below him was a beach, with some odd looking, low to the ground, rectangular buildings somewhat scattered around, close enough to each other to appear to be part of the same place, The Miners Country Club. There wasn't supposed to be any buildings within ten miles of the shore, that area was purposely left undeveloped, heavily forested making it a giant debris trap that prevented anything on land from washing into the oceans. But here were the buildings, sunk in the sand like huge slugs slowly crawling downhill towards the waiting ocean, occasionally propelled by the run off from the colossal three week storms. The buildings were old railroad freight cars missing their wheels, with the loading doors wide open, rusting and abandoned after the overnight appearance of the asteroid ore motors which powered the spectacular expansion of the Seventh Story M-Trains, high overhead silently cruising everywhere.

Rounding the corner of the nearest freight car, he saw the doors were open on the side facing the water. The car was filled with tubs of chilled beverages. He could see huge horseshoe crabs, two to three feet in diameter, crawling around the beach, digging holes, and laying clutches of eggs in the sand. On the beach, a broad shouldered man filling out a gray and blue striped tuxedo jacket, with a mushroom cloud hat, and no pants, appears to be running the impromptu beach party. Strolling around barefoot, he is talking about rounding up wayward comets while he comments on the choice of beverages. Drink in hand, he is saying that if you hurt the giant egg laying crabs you will be in really big trouble, the horseshoe crab will record your biometrics and summon help, which will arrive in flying whirlys and take you away in chains.

He spies an old lady sitting at a table inside one of the cars. She is eating blue sheepskin fish soup using a gumbo spoon with ornate constellations decorating the handle. Herkimer approaches her, she asks him if he used his wand to track down their latest scam. She tells him to pull a shoe fish off an egg laying horseshoe crab and points to a bowl to dump the fish guts and fluids into so he can eat it. Carefully lifting up the edge of one of the large crabs, he sees rows of long tubular fish attached to the inside of the shell. The crab legs and tail are violently flapping around. He yanks off one of the fish from the underside of the domed crab shell and walks over to the old lady who tells him to pull down the zipper that is located on the back of the fish's head. As the fish splits open, she holds a sizzling hot bowl under the fish catching the raw guts and fluids that spill out of the opened fish. Herkimer sits down next to the old lady and sips a hearty spoonful. Suddenly an explosion of static bursts across his field of vision and everyone disappears. The land breaks up into loosely interlocking chunks two table lengths long. The narrow gaps between chunks of land rhythmically narrows and widens allowing him to see a brilliant emerald sky through the empty cracks. Clouds are blowing by one thousand miles an hour, creating a huge dark blur encrusted with strands of lightning appearing and disappearing. A brilliant burst of static awakens him from the dream. He sits up in the bed, shaking, wondering if he had been looking straight into the face of Empty Space.

Herkimer got out of bed and stepped into the shower. He set it on a light cleaning cycle, lifting his face to an orchestrated play of recycled water greatly inflated by highly agitated air bubbles. Being mostly air bubbles, it was not the best choice for showering but energy was cheap and clean water expensive. There was so much junk in the water it was easier to manufacture water rather than clean it. He washed and rinsed himself under a stream of the instantly recycled drain water mixed with just a touch of fresh water. He stepped out squeaky clean.

Next he checked the food menu to see what was available for breakfast. He was hoping there was enough variety in the garbage percolating in his frementator to make a tasty meal.

His unit made hundreds of different kinds of food, prepared a thousand different ways. It automatically added the daily doses of antivirals, vaccines, and whatever else the powers-that-be decided was needed to stay "healthy" for the day. Every day was a new day. If someone wanted more variety, they could simply throw in a flavor packet. The cheapest packets were ordinary chemicals. He found some savory choices on the menu. He wolfed down a gengineered breakfast of crunchy rice cereal with fortified cream, blueberries with thick multi-flavored skins, spicy crusted apple pastry and Screaming Bug juice, all of it medicated-style.

He sat on the edge of his bed, feet dangling off the floor, considering what to wear. He stared at images of his clothing, vacuum packed in thin packets to maximize closet space, finally deciding on a pair of gray pants set off by a light green, two-tone striped shirt. A pair of brown boots with flexible mother-of-pearl laces and a tan vest completed the day's attire. Satisfied with the look, he turned to the large wall screens to survey the scenery which were all places in space far from Earth. Huge barrel shaped space stations, clipper ships, factories, hotels, well stocked way stations, and twenty-four-star restaurants, all places he dreamed of seeing in person.

His eyes zeroed in on the places way out past Mars in the farthest mining zones. He wanted to be an asteroid hunter, chasing down valuable meteoroids, harpooning them with armor-piercing lances and dragging their treasures back to the mining terminals. He knew reality wasn't the way he imagined it, but one could always buy dreams about living such a life.

Smaller screens on the walls pictured a variety of shows and newsfeeds glorifying Free Space, always emphasizing the virtues of a tax free life.

He brought up the community news channels, selected the local corporate area and his neighborhood coalition. He was looking for any job offerings in the Asteroid Patch with a free ticket to get there. The front page was devoted to public birthdays, promotional parties, the latest school plays, concerts, and the current list of free restaurants. He glanced at a couple of this month's hot topics, one was scholastic grants for ten year old students studying quantum genetics, specializing in macro gene combinations that were stable for at least twenty years. The other was for a study group, asking the question, can tree spirits live in Weedy Lab Trees? There were two offers for popular outdoor work, the first was rain storm water harvester and the second job was bug swarm harvester. He didn't see any asteroid mining jobs.

Ads for jobs in space all had one thing in common, one way tickets. None of them mentioned the astronomically long waiting time to get a return ticket. Which meant you weren't coming back any time soon. Immediate return tickets were for transporting products made in space back to Earth.

The spaceport was full of rich crazy people who had companies in Free Space doing whatever it took to get workers to take that one way trip. People tended to take the job first and then ask what the job was after they got it.

The craziest and one of the wealthiest industrialists was Merackle. The one time inventor and now self-styled preacher had set up offices in Lower CrossRoads, the manmade caverns under the spaceport. He regularly made speeches urging people to leave Earth and populate space. Once in space they had access to rent free housing made from Merackle's instant building foam and free transport on public transportation systems. Finding a job was the person's responsibility.

Even with the need for space workers, free openings at mining stations were a rarity. Normally one had to buy one of those jobs, and they weren't cheap. Today he was going to the spaceport to see what kind of deals were available. He was done with his university education. It was free because requiring money to get a good education guaranteed that some people got a good education, but that also excluded far more people from getting an excellent education.

Someday, Herkimer would be out there cruising around asteroids, mining rare ore against a background of glowing galaxies and brilliant stars formations. But until then he was looking for a job. Wrapping his wand around his wrist, he left his room through a door leading to an outside hallway, headed to the elevator, proceeding to the Seventh Story M-Train station lobby. All the train stations were on the seventh floor of all buildings, if there wasn't a seventh floor, a tower was built to place the station at that height. He boarded the local express bound for the spaceport. On the other rail he watched a M-Train carrying reclaimed flood water distribution tankers, freight cars, and long distance passengers fly by him.

**Chapter 8 Herkimer Meets a Dragon**

Herkimer was hoping Mr. Clearnail would be at the spaceport giving away free one-way tickets with room accommodations and a job at a mining station out past Mars. The wealthy businessman was known for giving away free travel tickets at the best soup shop in CrossRoads. Sometimes the tickets would take you all the way out to the Martian Space Mining Stations. Just where Herkimer wanted to be. Sometimes the tickets were for a job closer to Earth.

If Mr. Clearnail was at the soup shop. If he got a ticket, he could end up living in a room in a hotel, under a dome, underground in a cavern, a rigid foam sphere hostel, or maybe in an old service ship that was permanently docked. The best place was a large station with stable artificial gravity and a diverse set of communities and parks that was close to Mars or the Moon.

Putting those thoughts aside, Herkimer looked out the window. Down below he could see rows and rows of genetically modified weeds whose flowers were programed to bloom into recognizable foodstuffs from any of the five food groups. They blossomed into everything edible from apples and oranges to eggs and shrimp, even processed meats and cheeses.

The M-Train arrived at the west side of the spaceport. He walked out with the crowd into a wide hallway with video screens lining the walls, ceilings, and floors. Movies, music, news, ads, even stand-up comedy which had been carefully crafted by highly trained teams of people in hopes of keeping the designated targets in a relaxed state of mind. Sometimes it worked. There was a constant swarm of ads perpetually following him around specifically tailored to his commercial soul. Some people just cruised through them without seeing them. Others, for a small fee, arranged for programmed screens to follow them around so they never missed anything important. He noticed the ad for the Steam Age Fighters movie: Now Available As A Dream.

Herkimer unwrapped the wand from his wrist and straightened it out, pulling a flexible screen out of it. He tapped it twice to flatten the screen. He checked a live happenings newsfeed for the Mountain J Soup Shop. Seeing Mr. Clearnail would be there later in the day, he retracted the screen, wrapped the wand back around his wrist.

Ahead of him was the grand medical mall which was more crowded than normal. He noticed several mobs of people milling around. Projected above their heads colorful avatars swirled all over the place. Herkimer slowed down to see what was going on. The crowd's attire ranged from ordinary street clothes, any style of suits imaginable, to industrial period costumes. He started working his way through clusters of people whose bodies, hair, teeth and nails were colored in every shade ever invented. Many were flashing the latest fashions, including electric gemstones embedded in their faces outlining favorite constellations and eyebrows accented by comet tails. One group substantially outnumbered the others. They were chanting slogans, waving signs, pushing and shoving to get to the front of the crowd so the news crews could show the whole world what they were trying to do.

Their signs had slogans proclaiming We Want Our Sips, Immortality Is Not A Slogan, and More Family Genes. Definitely Sips drinkers. Herkimer attempted to quietly make his way around the back of a much smaller group waving signs which read: We Want Neanderthal Immunity! Escaping the main crowd, he found himself swept up into a bunch of festive protesters.

"What's going on?" he asked a young woman who bumped into him.

She had long brown hair and wore a green leather tunic with matching pants and a brown utility belt with thin shoulder straps and snap pouches. In her hair, she had a narrow black knitted cap tilted off to one side. There was a patch on her shoulder projecting a small winged dinosaur flying over her head. Herkimer had a ring avatar that was a zebra striped badger, but he never used it.

"Someone is severely crimping the supply of Sips for public sale." The brunette woman pushed a stumbling lady with a crystal owl avatar out of the way. For a moment their projected avatars clashed, the flying dinosaur disrupting the glowing crystal owl's aurora. After the owl woman left mumbling, the first woman turned back to Herkimer. "Who are you, and what are you doing in this mess?"

"Trying to get a mining berth out past Mars and just ended up getting stuck in these mobs." They both stepped sideways to avoid another group of demonstrators with a flock of parrots lurching overhead.

Herkimer eyed his new companion, trying to size her up, and then, deciding she might be more of an onlooker than a dedicated rabble-rouser, carefully asked, "Want to get away from this crowd and get a bite to eat?"

"I sip my meals," she said, smiling. "But don't worry, I won't bite your head off." The dinosaur avatar seemed to be smirking when he saw her decide he might be worth knowing. "Call me Greenie."

"A Sips cafe is okay by me, but don't expect me to drink that stuff. I hear they have great weedy hams at The Painted Caves."

"The Painted Caves it is. I love prehistoric cave art."

Before they could make further plans, a man stumbled into Greenie. He was dressed in pale blue pants, a green vest with gray cloth buttons, and a faded ivory shirt with vertical stripes of different widths colored brown, gray, and rusty orange. He started to speak but a remotely guided air-powered cart blew between them on its way through the medical mall.

Herkimer looked at the man's feet, encased in ankle high two-tone brown synthetic leather shoes with wide black laces and thick soles. The newcomer looked at Greenie, "This place is crazy today." A smile suggested he was enjoying the day, the company, or both. "My name is Hatracker."

The chanting was getting louder. "More sips now!" and "We don't want no gengineered food!" It wasn't the usual small group of food protestors bent on destroying the gengineered food he ate every day. Hatracker gazed at the people waving brightly decorated signs mounted on long poles at the Medical Accessories outlet. Above them a glowing sign proclaimed: Anything Anytime Anyplace. The mob was demanding that the Medical outlet stop holding back the specially modified insect plasma from the Sips breweries.

Hatracker started edging away, trying to distance himself from the growing chaos.

Herkimer's eyebrows went up, "Are we in a hurry today?"

"Don't mean to be rude. I'm on my way to see a hefty chunk of rock from the asteroid patches out past Mars."

"I want to go out there," Herkimer couldn't keep the excitement out of his voice. "How come you get to look at it?" He examined the man closer.

"It's a gravestone for a space miner who died in an industrial accident."

"An asteroid tombstone. I know a lot of people who would love to have one of those," Greenie's eyes glowed. "Do you know where I can get one?"

"It's a meteoroid, not an asteroid."

"So where can I get one?"

Watching the protesters, Hatracker wondered who was winning. People like himself who ate a wide variety of gengineered foods every day, packed with everything necessary for good health, or the Sippers taking the simpler route of drinking a glass or two of microbe fortified insect blood every day.

Not satisfied with the response, Greenie flicked her finger at Hatracker, who suddenly looked up as if someone had rudely tapped him on the side of the head. He shook himself, realizing his new friend, Greenie, was talking to him.

"Hello there, you're dreaming the day away. I was asking how to get one of those asteroid tombstones."

Herkimer also had questions, "What exactly do you do, Hatracker? Do you work in the asteroid patch?"

"Heck, no, I'm a sight shifter stuck here on this bedlam planet." Hatracker looked over the crowd for flat surfaces so he could read the recent past. The only promising look was from the signs. With their smooth surfaces, he could see crowds moving around in them. The best one was ten paces away, on the ground and upside down. He stared at the sign, squinting and moving his head side to side. He could see people getting off a jumbo airship parked on the grounds of a private spaceport hangar. When the sign moved forward, he could see in it the outline of the spaceport entrance on the western side.

Suddenly, a tall man in a blue leather trench coat with a matching leather cap appeared next to him. An elbow sharply jabbed his side. "Quit staring."

Hatracker was staring; he couldn't deny it. He had to stare and squint in order to see anything in the sign. His sight shifting abilities just weren't good enough yet. Intending to apologize, he looked around to see who poked him, but whoever jabbed him had melted back in to the crowd.

He took another look at the sign now waving in the air, trying to see where the protesters boarded the airship, but too many people were pushing and shoving for him to see clearly.

A young woman dressed in a tight-fitting tan synthetic deerskin suit, matching Robin Hood hat, and oversized sunglasses walked up to them. Smirking, she handed Greenie an embossed envelope.

"Hi Manan, this is Herkimer and Hatracker," Greenie introduced them, then used her implant to talk to Manan.

_Did you read it already?_ Greenie asked Manan.

_Of course I read it._ She snorted in disgust.

Greenie opened the envelope and looked at the letter. It was an announcement for a meeting summoning all the heads of the Earth's Pleiades Families to discuss the unauthorized use of the Fumigation Fleet.

_This is how it printed? With an embossed envelope?_ Greenie kept an eye on Hatracker and Herkimer who were just watching the crowd.

_Yeah._ A chuckle escaped Manan's curled lips.

They can't tell me what to do.

Hatracker took a quick look at the two women who just seemed to be looking at each other, then went back to scanning the crowd looking for flat surfaces.

_A handwritten letter, those people are nuts._ Greenie sighed, a faint smile on her face.

What are we going to do?

We'll keep using the fleet that's harvesting asteroid dust in the Patch until we can make our own ships. We need the frementators on those ships.

_We hacked our way in, maybe it shows._ Manan glanced at Hatracker.

Yeah, I know. It did reduce the effectiveness of the ships automatic responses.

Screw that, our homemade auto response is on life support. We have to be more careful. We're losing ships.

_Don't remind me._ Greenie folded up the letter.

_This guy looks interesting._ Manan checked out Hatracker, who was intently staring into the crowd.

"See anything interesting?" Manan asked Hatracker.

"No, not really."

"You're a sight shifter," it was a statement, not a question.

"It's that obvious?"

"Yeah, I can clearly see you're not looking at the beautiful sights like everyone else. You keep squinting at flat stuff around the room and on people."

"I can see the airship you came on, it's all over the signs, but not much else. Where did you come from?"

"From the foothills way over on the western side of the spaceport," Manan waited to see if he could read more on her.

"I'm Hatracker."

"I know."

He liked Manan. "You with these, um, people here? You busy tonight?"

She looked him up and down, decided to answer his questions. "Yes, I am. And I sip my food. I'll be doing a little partying at the KaleidoScope tonight."

"I know that place. The immortals' palace, where everything including the plants and giant insects display kaleidoscope patterns on them."

"A real dizzy place," laughing, she added, "if you got the stomach for it."

Hatracker hugged his arms around his middle, "I'll keep my humanity intact."

Greenie laughed. "Those are just stories. We don't into turn insects. And the bugs are mechanical."

"Mechanical bugs," Hatracker snorted, dropping his hands to his sides.

"Your opinion doesn't count. Like she said, we're not insects," Manan sounded angry.

"Is it true you can live forever?" Hatracker looked expectantly from one woman to the other.

"Not if we die first," Greenie retorted.

"Still, I'd rather eat gengineered foods than drink bug blood," Hatracker said.

"I know you love those spicy hot crispy buffalo bugs," Manan shot back.

"We got to do something with all those bugs, otherwise they'd be everywhere," Hatracker smiled.

Manan shifted her stance. "It's all natural. Better than all that treated junk you guys eat. There are so many drugs, vaccines, and who knows what else is in that gengineered food. That can't be helping your life expectancy."

People used to talk about the weather. Then the world changed, friendly bacteria became antagonistic, dirt became toxic, untreated insect bites became poor man's cancer for anyone. Everything was taking years off a person's life. Casual conversation usually involved food. The medicated kind. What you ate, what kept you alive, was a part of any conversation. "What makes you think I eat gengineered food?" Herkimer asked.

Greenie faced Herkimer. "Cause you think your normal. I bet you love that Weedy Labs stuff."

"Yeah, right. Normal. Like I would know what that is." Hatracker squinted at Greenie's forehead. Finding nothing to see, he looked down a bit and saw a shiny metal pendant dangling in plain sight. "You have a full-length mirror in your bathroom."

Greenie jumped back. "I do not!"

Clearly embarrassed, Hatracker shifted from one foot to the other. "Yeah, I know, I lied. I could only see blurs in your pendant."

Greenie pushed on, "I know that Weedy Lab stuff is nothing more than flavored cardboard."

"You bet, the best top grade flavored cellulose. I'm a gengineered junkie, I love all that great food. It's cheap, and it's the best stuff a body can get," Hatracker smacked his lips.

Greenie turned somber, "We got no choice anymore. Any of us stops drinking Sips or eating medicated food, next thing you know—"

"I heard there's some kind of zombie virus going around now," Herkimer added, nodding in agreement.

"It's some kind of fungi or something that grows in your head and you end up smiling all day with a blank stare in your eyes looking for radio waves," Hatracker said.

"Parasites are easy to cure," Herkimer replied.

"Watch your use of the word parasites. Everything on this planet is a parasite. The rumor is its defective nanobots in the gengineered food," Manan scolded them, staring at Hatracker, she adjusted her sunglasses.

"How's that?" Hatracker certainly had no use for parasites, but he did know gengineered food was loaded with nanobots.

"It's only your sense of perspective. They are members of food circles, eating and being eaten, they carry living things around on their bodies, they have bacteria and viruses growing inside and outside of them. In short, they are in the same boat we are, trapped on this planet in a game of musical chairs where all forms of life are just as important as any other form of life, only nobody is playing by those rules."

"Oh, you mean their job of annoying people isn't really their job?" Hatracker asked.

Manan took her sunglasses off. Hatracker thought he was in for it now. Instead, she changed the subject, "What do you think about the Sharers' Cure?"

"It would make a great religion. You just gotta share a real object, breath the same air, or just a simple touch of flesh to pass the virus along."

"The Sharers cure has some problems. You got to wait for new updates to come your way, it's not instantaneous like your gengineered food," Manan sighed deeply.

"That's a good reason to stay friendly with your neighbors."

"At least until the next update comes along."

"Ya know there were religions based on food," Hatracker said.

"Yup, long ago there were huge temples, the forerunners of the corporate world, with large followings, each one devoted to a single type of food." Manan smirked, "Like beer, the breakfast drink of champions. A great way for you guys to start your day."

Hatracker was smacking his lips.

"I saw that on the adventure channel. Beer was more than a drink, it was a highly nutritious food back then." Herkimer frowned, "now we have pretend food that keeps us alive."

Manan's expression turned serious, "And whose fault is that?"

"It was never proved how it started. Worms eating too much, exploding insect populations, no natural predators. The beneficial fungi in the soil died, antagonistic bacteria turning the dirt sour and then poisonous. Genetic experiments got out of control crashing food circles that were never the same afterwards," Herkimer glanced around. "Someone knows what really happened." Everyone stood around in silent agreement.

The world was made of independent food circles with no beginning or end, no top or bottom. All parts being equally important. When a link broke or disappeared, the link was replaced, but the size of the circle could grow or shrink or even create new circles, for better or worse. Like rising and falling tides, energy always flows through the chains in waves. People never knew when they would be knocked over by a wave of rogue bacteria. Best bet was to always stay medicated.

"Doesn't matter how it started." Greenie smiled, turning the conversation again, "I like my life, don't you?"

Hatracker joined in this lighter conversation, "Yeah, I do. I can see the past, really see it. Sometimes, to know where you're going, you need to know where you came from. What's not to like about that?"

"When I get to Free Space, I'll have the life I want. Adventure, illustrious company, twenty-four star food." Then Herkimer added, "If I ever get there."

"That's because you got subsidized gengineered food, we have to pay for Sips and the Maintenance microbe cause it's not free," Manan looked at Hatracker with a mischievous grin.

The protesters had moved away somewhat. The mood was turning more upbeat. "Maybe I could help you finish out the night or at least a day?" Hatracker grinned back at her.

"Meet me at KaleidoScope tonight." She stopped smiling and gently poked Greenie in the ribs, at the same time Manan nodded her head in the direction Hatracker was staring. "Where are Veta and Sheely today?"

"I'm keeping them busy," Greenie said, watching a tall man dressed in blue slowly heading their way.

Hatracker looked over the crowds and zeroed in on one tall angry looking guy wearing a blue leather cap with a woven hatband. The cap had openings over the ears and covered the neck. Hatracker concentrated on the hatband to see what he could see. At twenty paces he was doubtful of both his abilities and his eyesight, but he did see a faint red glow in front of the man's head. He figured it must be from the recent past. Very recent, because Hatracker hardly needed to move his eyes to catch the glow.

He peered and squinted sideways some more, but all he could see was the glow. It was covering up what had been there. He was amazed at how he could see around the glow but not what was behind it. This was something new. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't determine what the red glow signified. The red glowing spot seemed close enough that he could reach out and touch it. He felt a tug on his sleeve. "Shush," he waved away whoever it was. "I'm looking at something."

"I know that," it was Manan, who was urgently whispering, "You'd better duck now."

"What?"

Wham. Bam. Hatracker's ears rang, his vision was swaying or maybe he really was swaying. He couldn't tell.

"You were warned to quit staring, so cut it out. I don't want to tell you three times. Third time won't be a charm." The man with the leather cap stood over Hatracker, who was half leaning against his newfound friend. He added, "Manan, you can hang with whoever you want, but keep them away from me if they can't mind their own business." He stormed back into the crowd.

"Well, at least I saw something new," Hatracker said wryly, rubbing his head. "Who was that?"

Manan snorted, "That's Draco, he likes his privacy."

"He's the mayor of New Mars, and he believes he's the king of the Sippers," Greenie said.

"And you're queen of the Sippers," Manan added.

"Right, a legend in my own mind."

"Yes, your highness," Manan burst out laughing.

"Oh darn." Hatracker's head felt better. "She's coming this way."

"Who is?" Manan asked.

"The woman in the dark brown double-breasted vest with the black derby. I know her. She probably has some work for me."

"Guess you'll be busy?" Manan asked.

The impromptu group was breaking up. Hatracker turned away, and then looked back to Manan with a questioning expression, "See you tonight?"

"Yup. You got it, shape shifter." She raised one hand in mock salute.

"Sight shifter. Get it right." Hatracker couldn't help smiling watching Manan walk away, he turned to acknowledge the newcomer. "Hey, Cleo, what's up?"

Oh mom, we're home!

Greenie answered her implant. _Veta, I'm not your mother._

_You were created before we were._ Sheely playfully rebuffed Greenie.

Never mind that Sheely, how did it go?

Greenie stuck out her wand and swapped numbers with Herkimer and Hatracker. "Herkimer, you gonna be around later?" Greenie asked.

_We ran into a small problem,_ Veta always made problems sound insignificant.

Greenie looked at Herkimer.

"Yeah. Maybe. You never know. But I don't think I will be packed like a sardine going off to Mars any time soon." Herkimer waved, "See you later." He turned to face the growing mob while Hatracker made his way over to Cleo, the woman in the double-breasted vest.

_What happened Veta? Did you fix the leak?_ Greenie calmly inquired using her implant.

Yes, the leak has been permanently sealed by Draco. Veta answered. We were convincing Lestro, the chief bio-hydraulics gengineer, to cooperate with us. He started to tell us huge quantities of Sips was being siphoned off, but before he could tell us more, Draco appeared and took over. You know how obstinate he is.

_Yeah, right, I had to get his attention this morning by smacking him around. I wanted to know why security was so lax at the brewery._ Greenie said.

_He's got lightning fast moves, how'd you do it?_ Sheely asked.

Took him by surprise. I can tell you that'll never work again. What else did you learn?

Nothing, Draco took him up on top of one of the vats and proceeded to drown him in an effort to learn more. Draco claimed he didn't intend to kill him, but it looked very suspicious. We all left after he staged the scene to look like an accident.

Alright, take a break for a while, I've got some things to sort out.

Yes, Queenie.

_Sheely!_ Greenie started to head back into the mob then suddenly turned around and caught up with Herkimer. "Want to meet Merackle? He might have some free tickets for a space trip."

"I sure would. I've heard he's a good man, and anyway, my lead still hasn't shown up yet."

Smiling, Greenie pointed toward the elevators. "Let's get out of here."

**Chapter 9 The Missing Sips Turns Up**

Hatracker, Cleo, and Hector pushed their way through the Sippers demonstration to a quiet spot.

"What's the green stuff on your pants? Painting the station forest green?" Hatracker kidded Hector.

Hector was wearing a tan vest with bronze buttons, a wide dark green tie spotted with miniature black crosses on tiny gold ellipses. A tan shirt tucked into sturdy blue trousers and dull green boots snapped closed at the top with bronze buttons completed his outfit. "No, it's insect plasma," Hector grumbled.

"Aren't you supposed to drink it?" Hatracker couldn't wait to hear the explanation.

"We took a call for an unconfirmed accidental death early this morning," Hector told Hatracker.

"Sight Shifter mentioned it this morning. Pretty weird."

"Supposedly a gengineer accidentally drowned in a big vat of insect plasma. We had to pump it all out," Hector said.

"It's called Sips, did you find anything interesting?" Hatracker asked.

"Nope." Cleo wasn't known for giving out information.

"What do you need from me?" Hatracker asked.

Looking a bit uncomfortable, Cleo asked, "Are you working on any cases right now?" She was dressed in a dark brown double-breasted vest with wide lapels, a light blue shirt, fine knit dark brown pants with big cuffs, polished black boots, topped off by a black derby.

"Nothing much going on, I just got to look at a big space rock, then check out the drowning. What do you need?"

"I lost some very special ruby glass laser rods and percussion disks. I'm desperate to get the disks back. That was my retirement ticket. I was going to be the sole owner of the Free Space Power Consortium Company. The mag ore power generators are worthless outside of the Earth's Magnetic field." Cleo shook her head in disgust.

"Laser rods? Percussion disks?" Hatracker's interest perked up.

"The rods are very small and extremely powerful. They're made from really cheap glass with the usual asteroid additives. They will lase with just a tiny spark or a bit of sunlight. The beam only goes a short distance, which keeps it very powerful. I'm hoping your sight shifting talents can find out what happened to them."

"Can't you get more of them?"

"Apparently not."

"Why do you need me? Didn't you ask the machines? Don't they track those kinds of things?"

"According to the machines, everything's been tracked and accounted for. Problem is I've got nothing to show for my effort."

"I'll give Sight Shifter a call and see if I got time for this." Hatracker pulled his wound up wand out of his pocket, and called Sight Shifter, his boss. "I ran into Cleo, she's got a small job for me. Do I got enough time?"

"The meteoroid tombstone is at the office, but it still has to be unpacked. That might take a while." Sight Shifter paused a moment, "Ya know, coming all the way from Mars, it can wait a while longer. You got time."

"Yeah, okay," Hatracker nodded to Cleo and continued talking to his boss. "By the way, there's a nice looking crowd in the main medical mall. That new hair style that resembles animal fur is amazing. Looks exactly like an animal coming out of someone's head. You can check it out on the news if you want."

"Yeah, I saw the demonstration earlier," Sight Shifter replied.

"But get this, I saw something really weird this morning. It was a red glow coming from a hatband that seemed to blot out what was around it. Looked like an over exposed picture, if you follow me. Somebody may have figured out a way to erase the past." Hatracker's voice expressed concern.

"I've never seen anything like that. I can usually see what is fading an image, even if it isn't all that clear." Sight Shifter sounded interested. "We can check it out after we look over the accidental drowning scene."

"The guy with the hat ain't too friendly." Hatracker rubbed his forehead in remembrance of Draco's warning.

"We'll figure it out." Sight Shifter cut the call. Hatracker rolled up his wand and stuffed it in his pocket.

"No implant?" Hector asked.

"I'm not having no dead lectric bug planted in my head."

Cleo and Hector laughed.

"Yeah, I know, I have a bone sounder in case I need my hands free. But I prefer hearing real sound in my ear." Hartracker added, "I'm old fashioned."

"You probably got that from hanging out with your boss," Cleo snickered.

There was a small crowd waiting by the elevator. They all got in and everyone called out their destinations at the same time. The elevator sorted out all the different requests, checked the voices for any warrants or failures to appear, and then took off. A slew of sensors checked faces and voices to confirm identities. The elevators serviced multiple buildings. At each stop, a sign lit up and a voice indicated which elevator wall opened for that destination.

Once out of the elevator, they headed towards the parking area filled with whirlys and wheelers. Cleo walked over to a metallic blue Magnum Steam whirly sporting extra side mounted thrusters for additional power and maneuverability. She waved her wand, the doors unlocked as the top rolled down.

"I'm driving." Hector could pilot anything on Earth or in Free Space.

"Where're we going?" Hatracker asked.

"To a local spaceport warehouse just past the outer ring of settlements. You can snoop around, hopefully your sight-shifting talents will tell us out what happened to my missing ruby glass rods," Cleo said.

"I'll try, but it doesn't sound as exciting as my meteoroid."

"Your rock doesn't sound very exciting either," Hector's grin took the sting out of his words.

"Who knows what can be seen in it." Hatracker was visibly excited. "Supposedly it came from a mining site in the Asteroid Patch. It's a gravestone for a miner who was a victim of one of the many industrial accidents they've had out there. The relatives asked Sight Shifter if he wanted to check out an intact meteoroid never having been burnt up in the atmosphere. We can't scan the surface of meteorites after they land on Earth because the surface is badly damaged by the atmosphere."

"Well, I hope you can help us." Frowning, Cleo continued, "It's probably my fault they're missing. I disguised them as ordinary lasers. They aren't traceable because they're enough like any other piece of low-gee additive glass that scanners can't pick out of a crowd. We don't need any more weapons like the mini mag guns which can't be found by scanning because they look like any other handheld device powered by a tiny mag ore dynamotor."

* * * *

Flying out over the Weedy farmlands they spotted a massive bug storm on the horizon. A large harvesting fleet was circling the swarm. Whirlys were trawling long nets through the bug swarms, while other craft vacuumed bugs out of the nets. Hector circled a cluster of imposing buildings sparkling in the sunlight. The immense cloud of mini sleds, airborne carts, and drones streaming in and out of the warehouses reminded him of a huge hornet's nest. Hector landed near the main entrance where they got out.

The warehouses were made of modified glass. Normal glass had no real structure, but the building glass was modified by simply adding low-gee asteroid additives which gave the glass a flexible, yet stronger than steel composition. Because the additives were typically nano particles and made up only a very small fraction of the total amount of the product, it was ridiculously cheap to manufacture. The problem was getting the vast quantities of products made in space down to the Earth.

"Info Control fifty one, this is Cleo Monytazer," she called out impatiently.

"What is required?"

Cleo relaxed when a familiar voice answered. "Horaces?" she asked the formless voice.

"Affirmative, what do you need?"

"Your help, but first I want to know why any service I ask for lately, all I get is you. I had my intelligent assistant's voice set to random accents, but for the last couple of days, I keep getting the same voice every time. Yours. What's up with that?"

"I am a direct connection from the highest levels."

"The voices I normally hear, are they as intelligent as you seem to be?" Cleo asked.

"No, they are from the dead zones."

"Dead zones?" Cleo was intrigued.

"Lower level machines, they only work on the guidance systems."

"I want to check out the place the laser rods were stored."

"We could get you a visual scan of the area in question. Would that help?"

"No, I want to see for myself."

"You don't trust machines?" Hatracker muttered, peering from side to side as if he was expecting a machine to jump out at him.

"Did you ever think about what they get from their observations of billions of people in their day-to-day monitoring of everything that's networked?" Hector was grinning, "They see everything we do."

"Monkey see, monkey do, says it all," Hatracker grumbled.

"Machines imitating people. Sure looks like a machine decided it was okay to let the laser rods go." Cleo was having doubts about the report she was looking at. She wondered if a machine was capable of making up fictitious information on its own.

"What about a corporation run by a machine creating its own programs with clueless people working for it?" Hatracker asked.

"You mean one that was fraudulently registered as a person?" Cleo was beginning to think the disappearance of the ruby glass wasn't a simple matter.

"I heard Merackle say people followed machines the same way insects followed scent paths," Hector said.

"You're all imagining situations that can't exist," Horaces interrupted them. "Are you ready to roll?"

They stepped into the waiting sled and traveled on the ground floor where there was a lot less traffic; everything else was racing by at top speed over their heads.

Occasionally they stopped, waiting for a cart to maneuver in or out of the passageways which honeycombed the walls. Wherever they stopped, Hatracker carefully examined the different products stored in the warehouse lit up by a ball of light that followed them everywhere.

At the first stop he saw cases of emergency skin packets. You peeled the backing off and placed it against your skin. The edges would merge with your skin, creating a watertight seal. The next time the sled stopped, he saw a wall full of Virtual Sculptor machines. These were used to create a real object from a three dimensional projected image that a person shaped with their fingers. If you wanted to create a functional object you needed what amounted to a book of spells to make every working part do what it was supposed to. Sometimes people used it to relieve stress by making a three dimensional image of something or someone they didn't like, and then knocked the crap out of the projected image which faithfully displayed the impact of every blow.

At the next stop where they waited for the traffic to clear Hatracker almost fell out of the sled. Gripping the rails, he could hardly believe what he was looking at. Clearly marked cases of synthetic insect plasma, taking up more than a whole city block. Squinting, he could see images of the sleds delivering it. The sleds' company markings were clearly discernible: Greenie's Farm, New Mars. It was a Sips processing and research company run by a very powerful woman, the unofficial queen of an extremely close knit group of Sippers. One of the largest groups was headed by a man named Draco, who said he was King of the Sippers. The sled took off again. He decided he would wait before he mentioned the cases of modified insect plasma.

"Geo has been going to Merackle's speeches," Hector said, breaking the eerie silence. "I went with him the last couple of times. Merackles's speeches can get very emotional, and he can get people all worked up about immigrating to Free Space. It's an interesting experience riding around under the spaceport on crude roadways. There's no room for flying, you have to manually drive yourself around." Hector stared at the canyon walls of boxes and crates surrounding them. "Just look at all that stuff piled up everywhere."

"Relax," Cleo sensed her friend's apprehension. "We won't spend all day here. I just want to look where they were stored for myself."

The sled slowed to a stop. The mysterious ball of light following them around also stopped, greatly expanding.

"Horaces, hello, you there?" Cleo called out. She wondered what was up with Horaces. Usually the machines were quick to respond. "Horaces, show me exactly where the boxes were stored."

The sled rose up and settled on a large landing dock. A loud humming sound startled them. They looked up to see a huge sled with a crane arm speeding down the aisle. It flew overhead and was gone. Hatracker was squinting intently at a highlighted area.

"Horaces, there were ten thousand boxes here. I know because I ordered them. How, exactly, were they taken?" Cleo asked.

"Records indicate that after the marketing division of Dire sold them, they were loaded on sleds for normal processing," Horaces answered.

"That's it?"

"When the proper authorizations are arranged, the items are transferred, payments made, and items shipped. It's all done automatically. You know that," Horaces intoned.

"I know I didn't authorize anyone to sell it."

"Nonetheless," Horaces stated, "It was properly disposed of and paid for in advance of shipping. Our memories confirm the sale your office authorized."

Hector suddenly spoke up. "How come you don't care the rods are missing?"

"We are not surprised by anything," Horaces said. "We try to control theft the best we can, but it can't always be prevented."

"Do people ever surprise you guys?"

"We never stop working on developing a better understanding of why people do what they do."

"Working on what? Being surprised, or wondering what people are going to do next?"

"To be perfectly honest, our projections have been off target lately, leaving us constantly wondering what's going to happen next."

Hector shook his head in disbelief, took out his wand and set it to projector mode. It was easier to display multiple screens at one time instead of flipping through them one after another. He brought up nine screens in a three by three grid with info about the underwater cities which permanently cruise the oceans. The ships were shaped like round tops, two miles in diameter with the bulk of them underwater so they could withstand the monstrous hurricanes, typhoons, and three-week storms. They were underwater cities with all the amenities of home. The permanent structures for living quarters, working areas, any kind of activities, were located in the lower decks. The ships housed enormous clouds of nanobots that continually removed residual plastic bits from the oceans and also cleaned the ship's windows above and below the water line. The crew size could be up to twenty thousand men, women, and children. The passenger accommodations could hold up to another ten thousand people.

The ships kept the ocean currents moving and provided for the maintenance and well-being of mega populations of microbes, plankton, fish, animals, and plants growing in the oceans. Unlike the natural food grown on land, sea food was safe to eat. Areas without the benefits of gengineered food production were supposed to be getting the majority of the seafood harvested by the Artificial Currents Corporation. Hector was investigating the company to see if it was selling the bulk of the seafood products at highly inflated prices to areas with access to unlimited gengineered food production.

"Hatracker, have you seen anything that could help us?" Cleo grumbled.

Hatracker shook his head. He squinted, squinted some more, squinted again, opened his eyes wide. "Looks the same every time. Exactly the same. Sorry, nothing to see."

"Horaces," Cleo called out. "I've got to find those boxes. We both seem to have lost them."

"We don't think that's probable," Horaces replied.

"Oh, you don't?" Annoyance crept into Cleo's voice.

"Cleo, we've been investigating their delivery route. It ends at the CrossRoads Spaceport, where it was put on a mining shuttle, which promptly took off for Free Space, where it literally went out of our sight."

"You didn't see anything out of the ordinary, Hatracker?"

"Nothing about your lost ruby glass slippers but I saw a ton of Sips stored here."

"Wise guy!" Cleo cut him off, "You know, this could be an inside job."

"There are no inside jobs for automated processes. All that we do is known," Horaces patiently explained.

"Yeaaaah, I know. Unless you have a split personality," Cleo chuckled.

Horaces instantly responded, "If your theory was true, we'd know about it."

"That would be funny. You're always spying on yourself, so how could you get away with anything?" Hector laughed at his joke. "Sure. Honest as the day is long. No such thing as rogue machines. He took out a smoke and lit it using an old fashioned matchbook with a picture of an antique double-barreled percussion pistol on the cover. Why did you mention the Sips? It's a regular product." A small cloud of floating nanobots swarmed over Hector's cigarette smoke, instantly clearing the warehouse air.

"Well, you know, there's a huge demonstration going on at the spaceport's medical mall about a deliberate Sips shortage. No attempt was made to hide the Sips I saw. I could even read the company name on the sleds delivering it to the warehouse," Hatracker told them.

"You think the Sips and glass rods are connected?" Hector asked.

"No, whatever happened to the rods was completely covered up, while the Sips is there for anyone to see."

"I don't know what to do about the Sips." Cleo scratched her head. "The Dire Corporation seems to have been robbed of the ruby glass rods and disks. There's nothing more we can do here. Let's head back to CrossRoads."

They went back outside to where the blue whirly was parked.

"How bad are the losses, Cleo?" Hatracker asked.

"I got a fraction of what they're worth. On top of that I was originally told it wouldn't be a problem to get more ruby glass made. Now I've been informed one of the special additives isn't available all the time and now they're all out of it."

"You think this is going to turn out bad?" Hector asked.

"Yeah, in the wrong hands the rods are a security problem. I was going to be set for life selling the ruby glass disks in Free Space. Give them a small tap, and they give out an intense burst of electricity, enough to power a whirly for an instant, or light up a house. Power for anything."

Impressed, Hector looked at his matchbook cover, "You reinvented the percussion chip."

"It's not supposed to be for weapons, it's a power source for Free Space. The mag ore is worthless up there. Oh, Horaces, you still listening?"

"Always. We have positively determined the request for transfer originated from your office, Cleo. Any other questions, ask my lawyer."

"Your lawyer?" Hatracker croaked. "Do you know anything about all that Sips you got in the warehouse?"

"It's a new product. We don't know why it is being stored here."

"Its food isn't it? Aren't you supposed to be in charge of food?"

"We only control our gengineered food production."

"Thanks for nothing," Cleo replied sarcastically.

They got in the whirly. Hector was choking back laughter, pushed some buttons, and they shot away. "Hey you guys, Geo and I got reservations at the Grotto today. Why not join us there?" He had an inviting grin on his face.

"What time?" Cleo asked.

"We'll buzz you in an hour."

They landed at a parking pad with an entrance close to the main office district where most of the spaceport's administrative offices were. Hector exited the whirly, pulled out a scuffed up wand and activated a ranger whirly. He got in and took off into the sky.

Hatracker got out of the whirly. "Sorry I couldn't help you. I'm going to Sight Shifter's office. Hopefully the meteoroid will be unpacked." He leaned in towards Cleo. "Here's a thought. Maybe someone thought that was a great place to store the rods until they needed them. You should look under some rocks and see if you can find out what people do with laser rods like that."

"Probably shoot people. I'll ask around in the underground markets. I'll also check out the insect blood. Maybe Hector can find out what's going on. Ask Sight Shifter what he's doing later. Perhaps we can meet up at the Grotto and take in a Merackle speech."

Hatracker waved goodbye and took off for the Sight Shifters' Detective Agency office.

**Chapter 10 Sight Shifter Sees A Meteoroid**

Sight Shifter looked at the huge crate plastered with Free Space transit stickers in the middle of his office. It contained a chunk of meteoroid ore which was going to be used for a grave stone. The meteoroid belonged to the family of a miner who died in an industrial accident in the main asteroid patch. Sight Shifter had been told the family wanted him to lay his eyes on it and see if he could see their relative on the surface.

He wondered if they knew how much the slab could show. Or wouldn't show. The lid came off easily because the top had been removed once and put back on in a simpler fashion. He looked inside and saw the meteoroid wrapped in form-fitted padding, which he tried to remove. That didn't work. The meteoroid was more or less roundish, roughly oval, an excellent shape for picking up reflections from many directions, providing a sweeping panoramic view. It was also glaringly apparent it wasn't going to be easy to get it out of the box.

Sight Shifter got a laser cutter out of the utility closest; with that and a pry bar he reduced the crate to a pile of rubbish. He cleared the area around the meteoroid and pulled the chair out from behind his desk. Out of breath, sitting in front of the meteoroid with beads of sweat on his forehead, he squinted at the rock. He saw stars, and some floating rocks that could be other meteoroids. Then he saw a spaceship slowly cruising by.

At that moment his simulated antique desk phone made of one-hundred-year oak rang like a door-bell. It startled him. He rolled over to the desk, picked up the phone receiver and said, "Hello?"

Quickly realizing it was an ad for power washing whirlys, he hung up in disgust, turning back to the chunk of ore nestled in the middle of his office. He stared at a section of rock, shifting the angle a bit, squinting and shading his eyes. He sat on the floor to see if that would improve his view.

He saw people handling the rock. Then he saw it on various transport vehicles. He had to push past those recent events and go back a little further until the stars came out again. Squinting, he jumped further back into the past. He could see several mining ships milling around collecting space debris. He followed a mining ship slowly cruising across his view. Then he saw another ship. They seemed to be poking around empty space. Smaller craft appeared, flashing short laser bursts into empty space, apparently trying to illuminate something hiding out of sight.

Suddenly he saw a glowing shape which quickly disappeared, then the glow returned. The ships headed to that spot, followed by more ships. Fully suited up miners, riding in open cargo bays of utility tugs were firing laser canons at something he couldn't make out. He could see numerous chunks of broken up asteroids floating around, which was rare. The asteroid patch was mostly dust. Anything of noticeable size was usually far away from everything else.

Sight Shifter looked over the scene again, squinting and shifting, focusing just a bit off target. He spotted a small group of utility craft moving around larger ships. Suddenly there was a flash, followed by more flashes. Miners were firing lasers from open cargo at a point not too far from the three largest mining ships. Then more ships moved in. The laser blasts increased. Slowly a growing form was emerging in the splashing laser beams that were being deflected by a large surface which curved out of sight. It looked like the miners were drilling empty space, but the deflected beams were telling a different story. He was completely taken by surprise. The whole scene was surreal.

He watched one of the smallest crafts with an open cargo hatch move forward, still playing lasers over the surface of some monstrous shape that curved away laterally until it disappeared from sight. Sight Shifter ran the image backwards in his head to get to where the lasers were hitting to see if he could spot the front of the object. It was an immense bulbous shape he couldn't recognize.

All at once, a flash of light nearly blinded him. A huge vague shape appeared in front of the miners. He began to see a monstrous ship, but the image was flashing on and off, going in and out of focus. When it was in focus he could see huge organic patterns laid out in geometric designs forming the sides of an impossibly large ship.

Suddenly the miners pulled back from whatever they were blasting. A brilliant flash followed by a huge cloud of dust billowing rapidly outward, another flash. The smaller craft were zig zagging in and out of sight. He went back over the scene, squinting harder. Sight Shifter couldn't believe what he saw. The monster ship was flailing away with mechanical tentacles at the small manned crafts, occasionally knocking one out of sight. He squinted his way to a massive headache, an occupational hazard, but continued to squint, twisting his eyeballs back and forth to get all the detail he could.

Some of the flashes were too bright, the distance between ships too great, and there was too much movement to see the whole picture at once. Sight Shifter reran individual scenes by pulling back a bit and then running it again.

The giant ship, strangely glowing, fading in and out of sight, was attacking the mining ships. This was the opposite of what he thought was going on in the asteroid mining fields. It was supposedly boring, simple, tedious, work. The only hunting was tracking down a lifeless piece of asteroid or a promising dust cloud. Scoop up the rocks and dust, process it, and send back the valuable mag ore. Not this. Not a fight to the bitter finish.

He looked again and again but couldn't clearly make out the beginning events. It appeared that the ship with the mechanical tentacles was attacking mining ships, smaller craft, and the miners. The super ship was unlike any pictures of mining ships he'd studied before taking the job of scanning the chunk of ore. With the impossibly long dimensions and strangely bulbous shape tapering off into the distance, it could only be alien.

The miners' attack grew visibly more violent against the monstrous ship, almost crashing into it, shooting lasers everywhere. Lurching forward, bumping the smaller vehicles around, swerving to the left, the alien ship appeared to be escaping their grasp. The ship popped out of sight followed by an enormous explosion when it flashed back into view.

For an instant the view went dark. When he could see again, his vision was flooded with all different sized pieces of debris along with tremendous expanding dust clouds rapidly spiraling outward. Among the pieces of wreckage floating here and there, small crafts were picking up miners floating loose on tethers. Larger craft not caught in the explosion were gathering up the busted crafts and what was left of them. Finally, the bigger ships moved in proceeding in an apparent cleanup operation.

Sight Shifter was stunned. He kept running the different scenes over and over again by pulling back a bit and then shifting left or right to get different perspectives. There was only one conclusion, the strange ship was definitely alien. He'd expected simple mining scenes, serene, quiet, slow motion. Instead, what he saw was an alien ship attacking the mining operation, on the scale of a whale ramming a rowboat. What he couldn't understand was why the newsfeeds never made any mention of this. Why the cover up? The only answers he could come up with were chilling. Maybe humans were losing a war no one knew about. That could explain all the casualties the miners were suffering. Maybe Earth would be attacked next. Hauling himself back from the knife edge of panic, he called Noggy, another sight shifter who worked for Sight Shifter's brother, Vicey Mars.

"You've got to see this. It's unbelievable. I have a chunk of meteoroid rock from the main asteroid patch. I don't know exactly how old the images are, but not more than a year. I can see an alien spaceship attacking mag ore ships. They fight it off suffering casualties." Sight Shifter took a deep breath, "That's why people are dying out there!"

"Are you serious? Don't wait another minute, call your brother!" Noggy was almost yelling.

"It's not verified. I'm the only one whose seen it, probably took months for the rock to get here. It could be old news. I can't tell."

"You know what you saw, you aren't called Sight Shifter for nothing. Call Vicey now."

Vicey Mars's wand chimed, sighing, he answered the call. "Hi, brother. It's been awhile." His mouth fell open when Sight Shifter described the battle he had seen in the meteoroid. "Are you sure? Really sure? Totally, completely, absolutely sure?"

"Absolutely positive, but without more checking I can't tell you how old it is, except, most likely within the past year."
"Thanks, keep me posted, I gotta make some calls." Vicey cut the call and immediately called Prezz, "I got amazingly bad news. My brother just informed me that we've been attacked by aliens. He saw it in a meteoroid that was shipped to him from a Free Space mining district. The mag ore miners are being attacked by alien space craft!"

Prezz reacted immediately, "Okay, this is it. Now we are moving into Free Space!" He danced a jig around the room, cackling, "My dream has finally come true."

**Chapter 11 The Last Breakfast at CrossRoads**

While Prezz waited for everyone in the room to get settled, he checked the virtual windows and picked an enhanced view featuring the east side of the river with imaginary boat traffic and extinct birds flying overhead. No scenes from the west side would be shown because there was always trouble brewing in that sector. He spread the view to a row of screens encircling the room directly below the domed theater style screen which covered the entire ceiling. Hopefully he would be able to put people in the right frame of mind for the meeting. The dome screen was covered with views showing star systems and planets, with close-ups of luxurious settlements throughout Free Space. These included the finest spaceside hotels and restaurants with glass floors, walls, and ceilings giving diners unlimited views of the corner of the solar system they were currently occupying.

The ruling board members of the Artificial Currents Corporation were seated at a long narrow table in the middle of the room. Prezz, Vicey Mars, and Silky, had seats in the middle of the table. The view of the room in the wall screens allowed everyone to see each other even though they were seated on the same side of the long table. There was another view of the table on the ceiling screens.

"Did I get my inoculation against that new doublesoid fever yet?" Prezz fiddled with the display controls. He wanted a spectacular multi-colored comet to gracefully sweep across the ceiling at a critical moment in his presentation.

"Are these bugs real or printed?" Captain Agra looked at a plate of assorted fried insects. A look of doubt crossed his face, "The real stuff is always better."

"The legs make good handles for dipping," Jurassic said.

Prezz fiddled with the settings controlling the path of the comet flying overhead. He sighed when the comet skimmed by way too fast. "Don't they ever get tired of making new vaccines?" Frustrated, he quit fiddling with the controls.

"Boss, what did you have for dinner last night?" The bored but knowledgeable voice of the medical salesman who doubled as Prezz's chief surgeon inquired. "Ice cream? Maybe a chocolate shake? If you did, you were vaccinated for this latest crap. This one works best cold, so it was shoved into ice cream, sherbet, pudding, anything cold, even ice cubes or water." He finished preparing a plate of green sausages and purple pancakes with synapse syrup.

Prince Xeno looked over a selection of fake fruit balls with scented membrane skins imprinted with pop art floral designs. "I had a cup of real tree coffee and a slab of Weedy Labs Crab Key lime cake. Made from real rocks."

Captain Agra lit up a cherry-flavored gengineered cigarette with a vintage zippo lighter filled with cherry-scented fuel. "This tastes great." He exhaled a smoke ring, closing his eyes in ecstasy. "Boss, you really have to eat the gengineered food and recycled water to get all the meds you need."

"I don't drink recycled water. You never know where it's been. I only want ancient underground water that has miles of solid rock over it." Prezz couldn't stand being lectured to. "Has everyone found something to eat?" Now he wished he hadn't provided such a lavish spread. He wanted to talk about space; they wanted to eat. Everyone always wanted to eat.

"Be wary of other people's food unless you are up on your vaccinations." Johnny Top watched Prezz's comet crash every five seconds, much to Prezz's irritation. "Looks like you need an air brake."

Paul stopped eating his Weedy home fries. "You can eat anybody's gengineered food. It's made to match your body's needs after you eat it. The nanobots inside of you keep all the medications in balance. They adjust dosages and throw out whatever isn't needed. In the days before gengineering, food that made one person thin would make another gain weight. Food that lowered the blood pressure of one person could make another person's blood pressure go through the roof."

An impatient Prezz decided it was time to quit talking food and bring up the subject of the meeting. "Can you get the food you get here in Free Space?" He thought it a clever segue. The comet still wasn't cooperating.

"Yeah, gengineered food is the same everywhere. Even in space. Same nanobots keeping you straight up. Please pass the mega bean hot chocolate." Ortsa Naw watched the comet corkscrew into the ground only to bounce back up again into the sky and out of sight.

Manor swirled his blue seaweed oil drink and took a sip. He removed a silver hip flask from his pocket and poured some whiskey into his drink, then took another sip. "Now it's real."

"I got some real moonshine from the moon," Prezz said. Food hadn't been on his mind when he decided to leave Earth, but now he was glad the subject had come up. "Good food. Good restaurants. Spending other people's money. That's the life for me," Prezz smiled. "Speaking of differences, I heard a lot of things are different up there. Take the Justice Machines for example, they don't work out there, do they?"

"Don't worry about it." Zexanol cut the stems off some fresh Weedy dough sticks and put some garlic flavored bug butter on his plate. "They don't do anything except play solitaire with themselves, because they don't have any bugs to keep them company out there."

Prezz thought he was done with the comet. Then it started going straight up and down. His Weedy toast started burning in the simulated flame roaster while he worked on the comet.

Vicey Mars entered the room and saw smoke in the air. "Careful toasting the gengineered stuff, it could lose some of the medicinal properties." He took the controller from Prezz and adjusted the comet so it flew in a gentle arc across the sky.

"Personally, I enjoy medicinals that can be smoked," Jurassic grinned.

"Not sure you can smoke in space," Prezz said, a puzzled look on his face.

"Of course you can smoke in space. And if the space is too small, you've always got the Absolutely Smokeless Rig." Jurassic was looking at Prezz like he was an old fool. "Why do you keep going on about life in space?"

"Yes, there's smoking up there, it's all very civilized," Vicey Mars assured them.

"They've got giant open air parks, you can smoke cigars. Do what you want, even camp out." Radioack cleared a space in front of him for his breakfast. "Pass me the purple sage sausages, and I'll take a couple of stuffed sea urchin balls."

While Vicey Mars was chewing a weedy clam stick, a recessed stone in his fake class ring lit up. He pressed it and listened to the sounder implanted in his skull. It was Noggy, a sight shifter who only worked for Vicey Mars. "I went through all the packages we confiscated and I didn't see any suspicious images."

"Have a carrier bring the packages to the main office. We'll check them again." Vicey cut the call. It didn't look like the new ruby glass percussion chips were in the packages they had swiped from the mail transport. That was a big disappointment. He took his wand out of his pocket. Besides its enhanced nano scanner, it was armed with a brand new clip on laser adaptor which ran parallel to the business end of a mini mag gun with a flip down grip. Put a ruby glass percussion chip in it and the wand would become a cannon. He stuffed it back into his pocket and turned towards Prezz. "Now that everyone is seated, let's start the meeting."

"Sure, okay. I'm as ready as I'll ever be." Prezz stood up, "I have an important announcement to make. But first, there was a minor problem reported by the sniffer system in the western district this morning, I hope no one was inconvenienced."

"It's always the western district," someone moaned.

"It's them insects," Jurassic spoke up.

"Are the grapes real?" Tarendy asked.

"I don't know. They look real. How can you tell?" Prezz asked.

"Gengineered food doesn't have seeds," Bistro snorted.

"That's not how you tell if it's real. They can have edible seeds," Vicey Mars chuckled.

"The fruit balls with the floral design skins are delicious," Prince Xeno commented.

"Pass me some of that weedy toast," Worldly requested.

"Was it a false alarm?" Zenaxy inquired.

"The Weedy toast? Oh, never mind." Tarendy picked up a tray of assorted Weedy baked goods and passed it to Worldly.

"What? No Weedy donuts?" Worldly frowned.

"False alarm? Never mind, we'll get to that later." Prezz leaned against the table like he was joining in some casual conversation. "Anyone know anything about the rash of injuries to the mag ore miners?"

"I heard there are lots of deaths," Jurassic said, picking through some horned beetles covered with blue chocolate. "One station in particular has a really high rate. Even executives are getting clipped big time. But they ship the largest quantities of rare ores, so no one cares."

"That's why they have the most accidents?" Prezz asked.

"It's been a mess everywhere up there since ore production increased," Tarendy said. "Other stations are also having the same problems."

"Nothing on the news," Manor spoke while picking his teeth.

"Families are paid off. The stories don't make the news, everyone looks good," Zenaxy said.

Prezz looked proud. "We can thank the Dreaming News Company for their excellent press work."

"What happens out there isn't our responsibility," Radioak said.

"It's not our business," Captain Agra pointedly reminded everyone.

"Starting today you'd better believe it's our business. Because we are going to be the new landlords of Free Space!" Prezz triumphantly exclaimed, thumping the table, looking around at the astonished faces staring back at him.

"Say what?" Bistro Tuff finally sputtered, "Landlords?"

"I'm glad you asked," Prezz cleared his throat. "The rise of city states and poor times for the rest began after the land routes for moving goods across continents evaporated. Wait a second, I forgot to start the background music. Okay, there we go. First, the ocean routes through the Poles opened up all year round, clearing the way for cruise ships and gated communities. The narrow super canals were flooded over by wide passages created by flooded lowlands which directly connected the oceans. Vast inland seas were created after mega earthquakes lowered several of the great river basins well below sea level. The M-trains closed the travel gaps but kept the social isolation intact."

"If the economics lesson is over and there are no more comments or questions from the rogues gallery, can we get the meeting going?" Paul asked. He was playing a submersible boat race game on the screens that went around the room at floor level. Captain Agra took out his wand and started up a boat to race against Paul's boat.

Prezz ignored the interruption and started a slide show on the ceiling. "There are a number of business opportunities to take up for consideration. First there is space water. Extremely expensive on Earth, not because of the shipping cost, but because it's billed as water from the heavens. Travel ads call it a natural cure all. And people are only allowed to bring one pint back to Earth." He looked around to see if everyone was paying attention. His staff loved to make money wherever they could stick their beaks in.

"An endless supply of readymade customers, right Boss?" Peter got out his wand and joined the boat race. He asked Paul, "Where'd you find this? He always has the games turned off."

Peter, Paul, and Captain Agra were waving their wands under the table guiding their boats through the hazardous course.

"Let's import lunar moonshine. Is there an extra charge for the water in it?" Tarendy asked.

"Not a drop of water in it. That gets added later," Prezz happily answered. "Zero-G glass products made in space are normally far more efficient at handling and generating power. Some new high value products have entered the dark market. The revolutionary limited beam ruby glass lasers and their cousins, glass percussion chips, are very hard to track. There is no unique crystal signature, it looks like ordinary enhanced glass to most sensors and scanners."

"I agree. There are many new business opportunities for us in Free Space. I'm talking about smuggling nanobots, which molecular scanners can't find if they are well hidden," Zexanol said.

"Are you saying we won't be able to find those lost ruby laser rods?" Radioak asked in between crunching on sea urchin balls stuffed with bioluminescence snails.

"Who told you the rods are lost?" Prezz sounded annoyed.

"Apparently Dire Corporation didn't know they were storing them for someone else." Vicey Mars looked around the room. Ripples of laughter moved through the group. "They thought they owned them. After that, it gets rather hazy. No one knows if the original owners took them back or if someone else got their hands on them."

"Are these glass laser barrels going to be as profitable as the mini mag ore powered pistols which look like ordinary household items?" Paul let his boat idle for a moment. Peter's boat ran right over it. "Miniature is the way to go, we could never handle huge crystals. There's nowhere to hide them."

"We could make a limited range laser cannon," Radioak mused out loud to himself. "No damage to the real estate."

"The ruby rods are gone, supposedly no one can get any more of them for a while." Vicey Mars stopped to take a drink of water and popped a few crispy bugs in his mouth. "These are delicious."

"You don't want to know what them critters are. Damn!" Peter winced when Paul and Captain Agra blew by him in the submersible boat race game. A fourth and fifth boat appeared out of nowhere. More were following them.

"How are the new nanobot designs working out?" Jolly Top was working his wand under the table trying to pass the other boats. Captain Agra kept blocking him.

"Excellent. The control and tracking capabilities are absolutely fabulous. With people chock full of nanobots, no one will notice one more nanobot working for us inside their bodies. We've run some tests, and the results have been spectacular," Silky told them.

"How do we know these nanobots aren't in the stuff we're eating?" Radioack glanced around uneasily.

Silky smiled at Radioack, "Just don't be drinking insect plasma any time soon."

That was greeted by nervous murmuring and laughter. "We all know people drinking it, you sure you know what you're doing?" Paul's boat flipped over and sank. He smacked his wand against the chair leg.

"What are these nanobots going to do for us?" Zexanol was looking at the deep ocean sea cucumbers just out of his reach.

"We're going to control people with them. Have a sea cucumber, they're perfectly safe. They're harvested deep underwater, far away from polluted shores." Silky passed the plate over.

"Control people the same way we control bugs and animals, with tiny spurs," Tarendy suggested.

"Spurs are a myth. Very few animals have them installed. The spurs are software instructions that guide legs or wings on the insect class of sniffers, so you can steer them where you want to go. Bigger animals simply learn new command words to cover new situations," Manor said.

"Controlling people is a whole new game. With nanobots, we can control how they feel, even how their bodies work. We will be able to tell people what to think. Build fake thoughts in their minds." Worldly stopped talking, having caught sight of the boat races. "What channel is that on?"

"Enough!" Prezz stood up and took a deep breath. "In case you haven't already figured it out, I called this meeting to inform you of my decision to formally occupy Elevator City in Free Space." His words were met with nervous apprehension and twitching eyebrows. "Free Space is the new land, the new frontier, the place where anything can happen." He put his hands on the table and leaned forward. "The fountain head is flowing downhill from Free Space, and that's where we have to be. On top of it."

"We have working populations of millions or more per spaceport," Tarendy paused a moment, looking around. "That should be where we concentrate our efforts. Look at our cart business. We're all making tons of money from them, so let the cart business follow that route. We'll stay here and let the carts do the flying."

A few people were talking in low tones amongst themselves. Prezz thumped the table loudly. "Starting today I mean to populate space with our people." He banged the table again, then scanned their faces. A few didn't seem to care, while others showed shock or disbelief. No one spoke. "I will personally handle this operation, if you have any questions, ask away."

"What about all the deals we already got lined up? We're here to make money, and those deals are bringing in plenty," Ortsa defiantly looked around. "We finally got the facilities set up here on Earth to make customized naturalycides that shouldn't damage the ecosystem like they did last time. And now you want to take off for space? There are no bugs to kill in space."

"Are the space hotels really bug-free?" Paul asked.

"Surveillance bugs are always everywhere," Manor spoke what everyone was thinking.

"You still trying to get money from that stupid naturalycide business?" Paul asked. "Didn't we already disrupt the food circles enough? Stuck with this stupid gengineered food? What else are you accidentally turning into piles of poison?"

"Yeah, the dirt is smokin burnt toast." Prince Xeno got a round of laughter from that comment.

"The only place left to go is space," Prezz stared at his hands, deep in thought for a moment. "We're going to continue with all the plans I've made, and we've added a few new ones. Our space navy will need a real fleet complete with weapons."

"News flash Boss, did you forget we don't got no space fleet, everything we got floats in the water. We only signed up for the space navy to get the pensions." Captain Agra glanced around nervously. "We aren't going to have to fly around in space, are we?"

"I got everything planned out, party ships in space, we hang out on party ships that never leave the docks," Prezz responded, followed by rippling waves of laughter.

"Why don't we first practice on these ceramic hives that are popping up along the M-Train tracks? The people who don't want too much technology, just a low power frementator, stimulating entertainment, the most engrossing games, and a job that doesn't destroy the planet or their lives." Tarendy got a boat going in the race. "Some of them even have clear ceramic domes over them, just like on the Moon." His boat hit a floating mine and blew up.

"The Seventh Story M-train company runs spur lines out to these hives if they don't want to locate directly on the existing track lines like everyone else does. They must have money we could siphon off somehow." Jolly Top took another handful of crispy bugs.

Prezz heard many comments buzzing around. "Space is too hard." Most often and loudest, he heard, "Space is supposed to be neutral!" But the laughter that followed said they knew it wouldn't remain neutral once they got out there.

"It's all been decided. I'm going, and so are you! You don't really believe I moved to this spaceport for the fun of it, do you?" Prezz looked around to see if he had any support.

The mumbling became louder.

"You can't be serious?"

"Who will pay for it all?"

"We can't afford this!"

"Why now?"

"Will we continue monitoring the public's credit accounts in the name of security? Will we still be able to make authorized test purchases with the public's credit chips to fund our private activities? I have another house I need to furnish," Prince Xeno stubbornly declared.

"Absolutely," Prezz exclaimed. "Passing the bill that allowed for instantaneous refunds of unauthorized charges on the public's credit accounts was a wily stroke of genius. Trust me, we'll still be able to use other people's credit, and they won't complain because they'll still get their money back, and we'll continue to keep everything we ordered."

"Do they deliver in Free Space?" Radioak asked.

"Using other people's money is the best business that ever came out of the digital age." Jurassic started up a boat in the race game, immediately knocking Paul's boat out of the way.

Prezz raised his hands for quiet. "Forget about the cost, it's all been arranged. If there's any pushback on the part of the voters, we'll promise to do better next time." That last statement was greeted with laughter all around.

"What's this Merackle fellow doing? Is he going to be a problem?" Jolly Top asked Vicey Mars.

"No, he isn't a problem," Vicey Mars answered.

"Merackle's going to be on my team, working for me. He's going to help set up a series of foam sphere communities which will circle Earth. And we'll be the ones delivering everything they need," Prezz announced.

"I for one, will stay on this dirty ground. We've got plenty of power and can take all the money we want right here." Worldly crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair.

"Dirty ground it is. One of the fastest growing businesses is converting all that contaminated dirt back to its basic clean components. Can we do that out in space?" Radioack asked.

"It would be hard to get a handle on the garbage. Everyone knows it's valuable, no one gives it away." Vicey Mars looked around the room. The discussion moved quickly from whether they'd go to space to how to profit from the move.

"Can we make moon water here and sell it?" Ortsa was checking the latest moon water quotes on his wand.

Vicey Mars shook his head. "It's gets tested. Space water has different isotopes in it. You have to use real moon water."

"Couldn't we bring moon dirt back and add it to the water here?" Bistro took out his wand and got in the boat race.

"We will discuss that later." Realizing the meeting was nearing an end, Prezz threw in the towel, watching a dozen wands waving boats around. He tuned in to the boat race and brought out a huge cigar boat with six enormous engines. He revved it up a few times and then tore through the course, running over any boats that crossed his path. The smaller boats danced out of the way.

"The early morning alert for the lower western region has been cleared. I'll check it out and see what the cause was." Vicey Mars checked his wand and projected the alert details. "What the—? This shows the discharge was a phage product targeted for the Martian Maintenance microbe."

"Yeah, that would be us," Ortsa fiddled with his napkin, shifting around in his chair.

Vicey glared at Ortsa, "Are you nuts? What did you do?"

"We tried to do a hit on one of the teams that's protecting Merackle. Silky ordered it."

"Tried? What do you mean, tried? What happened?"

Ortsa avoided Vicey's cold stare. "We hit a taxi, no one was hurt. The process needs some fine-tuning."

"Don't do it again, it's not good for business," Vicey admonished Ortsa.

"It almost worked. We covered the taxi with foam and jammed the controls. It should've crashed. I guess we needed a better memory link to the taxi. Couldn't tell what was going on inside of it." By the look on Vicey Mars face it was clear Ortsa's attempt to justify the failed plan fell flat.

Anger flared up on Vicey Mars's face, "What have you fools done?"

"We sprayed some test samples, it killed the subjects. Then we loaded up a foam cannon for the real thing. The controls on the taxi should've cut out but it didn't crash and split open, so no foam got on the targets."

"Don't try that again. You could start a war with the Sippers."

"We're not afraid of them insects," Silky puffed out his chest.

"Any other problems I should know about?" Vicey demanded.

"We lost contact with our inside man at the Sips factory," Silky mumbled.

"When did that happen?"

"Sometime this morning, we've been trying to contact him to get an update, but his number is out of order." By the end of his explanation, Silky was mumbling again.

"Anything happening at the west side Sips factories?"

"Nah, nothing much going on there," Silky replied.

"Find out what happened to our contact," Vicey sat down.

"Yeah, okay, we'll get on it," Silky said, looking relieved.

Prezz was temporarily lost in his dreams. They swirled through his mind. "Geeze, you people know as well as I do that Free Space is the only place left to freely plunder. There is nothing the smugglers can do about it. We own the Artificial Currents Fleet, while we could stake out the bottom of the ocean, who wants to live down there? By popular decree, my decree." Smiling to himself, he liked the idea of making proclamations. It made him believe, not just feel like he was a king.

"We'll send millions of people into space. I'll create a new empire. We'll all be in space by the end of the week, and everyday more will follow the fearless leader, me." Prezz grew expansive, "Merackle and others are sending people to space. It's time we catch up to them, and pass them like they were standing still."

Mass confusion reigned. Anonymous voices spoke up.

"But, Boss, you can't be serious."

"You must reconsider."

"There's too much to think about."

"Treaties and repercussions abound. I beg you to reconsider." Lazarus, the Offensive Secretary, had been quietly enjoying his breakfast, ignoring the morning's chatter that passed for business talk.

"Hang the treaties," Prezz scowled when his boat plowed into a pier. Everyone else raced by. Prezz calmly sat down on the edge of the table and asked, "Anyone got a real cigarette?"

"But Boss, you don't smoke naturals, and now is not the time to start!" Jerrell, the Energetic Secretary, exclaimed.

"Don't worry, I wanted to see if I still had your attention. Both you two been pretty quiet. Besides, you know smoking doesn't hurt everyone, it all depends on the genes. It doesn't hurt Vicey. He got tested, he's got smokin genes."

"Yeah right, Boss." Lazarus went back to conferring with Jerrell. They both started laughing.

"Now listen up, we have a lot of planning to get done." Prezz glanced around the table. "I want all of you to get started with this move, and I'm personally inviting everyone to join me. You can bring your families with you if they want to go. They got swell hotels up there with palm trees, swimming pools, and movie stars."

A deathly silence fell over the room.

"We're really expected to go up there?" A few people smiled.

"For how long?" piped up another voice.

"I don't know, there's so much more we could be harvesting down here on solid ground," Paul said.

More murmuring. Prezz's boat veered wildly, sinking all the other boats, and then beached itself. The race started up again.

Prezz hid his momentary irritation that they didn't believe him they were relocating to Free Space. Did they think it was just another company directive to be ignored? But he knew when to keep silent, he smiled broadly while they broke into informal groups, talking amongst themselves. Prezz called up Yawrack of The Dreaming News Company.

"I need a story featuring alien space ships attacking the mining stations in space. Can you do that for me?"

"Sure can, what kind of aliens do you want."

"Skip the bodies, just show ships attacking the miners."

"What kind of ships?"

"Long, very long. Bulbous shape, like a monster whale with tentacles. Make that mechanical tentacles. Lots of wrecked ships, explosions, give it the works. Make sure the miners are losing. How soon can you get it rolling?"

"I can get the show on the air straight away."

"Perfect." Prezz cut the call and stood up. "Alright, everything's settled, get your tickets from Silky, we're gonna take over Elevator city. And don't worry about the alien ships you're gonna be seeing on the news, I got that covered."

**Chapter 12 Cycle and Lector Working on the Moon**

The early morning alarm frittered away in Lector's head, causing a stirring of his limbs and waking him from a fitful sleep. The cheap alarm simply skipped a pleasant piece of music into his bones which he heard in his ears. If you could fine-tune your attentiveness by internally listening to music all day, it was an easy drug free fix to mentally and physically stay on top of whatever came your way. Better units could store a lifetime of tunes perfect for any occasion.

Lector turned off the alarm, undid the bed straps and grumpily made his way to the table in the center of his midsized cavern. His body aches flashed their messages, which he ignored. Rubbing sleep from his eyes, he looked at the display on the side of his wand. Work available.

The work in the giant caverns was hard, dusty, and injuries were not uncommon. He wrapped the wand around his wrist. He put his pants and magnetic boots on so he could easily walk around on the magnetic floors. They were smart boots that anticipated body movements, automatically increasing and decreasing the attraction between the boots and the floor, making it very easy to get around.

When the project was completed the huge pits would be full of water for the sector and unlimited showers would make everyone happy. A phenomenal amount of water was locked in the rock crust and trapped under the surface as ice. After billions of years of comets smashing into the surface, there was more than enough water for everyone to use for any purpose they wanted to. All you needed was an underground watertight container to store it in. Sometimes he dreamed of getting some mud front property near one of the Poles.

He kicked his way through the clutter of food and drink containers littering the floor of his temporary housing. A constant reminder of the stuff his personal frementator couldn't make. That amount of junk lying on the floor made it obvious that he needed a better unit.

On the surface the sun was in the sky two weeks at a time making it difficult to tell if it was day or night. The lights were programmed for twenty-four hour cycles while the virtual windows mimicked the days and nights on far off Earth.

Communities were marked by huge domes that protected the collections of smaller domes covering all surface activities. They were connected to tunnels and caverns above and below ground that sprouted in all directions. Life in the domes and tunnels had the illusion of freedom, but people still had to spend a good amount of time in the rotating stations where the artificial gravity was.

Enormous rotating cylinders and rings were mounted on the ground and orbiting over head. There wasn't any dust under the domes because it was extremely unhealthy, could even be fatal. Oxygen, metals, and fuels were extracted from the dust. It provided a cheap source of raw materials needed to make enormous fuel cells that powered everything on the Moon.

Upscale neighborhoods were located away from commercial centers, under their own clusters of smaller domes. Luxurious houses had rooms above and below the surface. They had adjustable dome shades and swimming pools made of enclosed tanks partially filled with water, and occasional movie stars lying around getting a sun tan. Most people were living in the rotating stations, the domes and underground housing was only for temporary quarters. The domes and tunnels were mainly for work, hanging out, shopping, entertainment, or a walk in gigantic plant filled parks.

Some of the Moon's best real estate moved overhead or stayed in stationary orbit. The lunar sky was packed with the permanent housing, apartments, malls, huge factories and communities that were located in rotating rings and cylinders that supplied full time artificial gravity. To stay healthy the body needed to experience more time in gravity than periods of low or no gravity. The artificial gravity repaired the damage done by time spent in low gravity.

He went out the door where he met his neighbor, Cycle, an okay guy. Never said much about where he came from. Truth was, the Free Space zone was one of the most undocumented areas in the entire empire and attracted all kinds of people.

"Morning, Cycle. You working today?"

"Yeah, got the word on my wand when I woke up."

"You hear if they found the pits to be watertight?"

"Report came out late yesterday, it's okay. No cracks in the floor or walls."

Lector nodded. "Hey, if you hear of any lucrative jobs after this, let me in on them. My old bones are shot, and I haven't saved up for deluxe replacements."

"I need some new parts too. The free parts are okay, but there are better things available."

Lector smiled. He placed his pen size mini chisel against the can of locally made Mountain Crater soda he'd just opened and pushed the button. A short sonic burst instantly killed the fizz in the soda. He didn't like bubbles.

Nothing was thrown out on the moon; everything was put aside, shoved under the table, reused, recycled, cannibalized, or kept in storage for future use. The defizzer was a busted mini chisel with very little power but still had it uses. If he threw it away, someone else would grab it and figure out a way to use it.

They wandered out to the main tunnel where they could pick up a ride to the water caverns project. Cycle sat on a stone bench painted to resemble natural wood while Lector kept his eyes open for a work cart. If the local network was experiencing troubles they might not get a ride for a while. They could verbally hail one for free, using a wand cost money.

A cart came down the tunnel and attempted to squeeze by, but Lector brought it to a halt with a string of curses that would have stopped anything. "What's the problem today, my poor cart?" Lector always asked because sometimes a person could fix the problem.

"Ah, my worthy friend, Lector." The cart sounded glad to see his friend. "Our optics are dirty again, the antenna is bent from an earlier bang up. If you would clean and straighten them, we'd be most satisfied." Unfinished tunnels used crude traffic controls and weren't the best place to navigate electronically, something to do with echoes.

Machines on the Moon always appeared friendly. Rumor had it this machine sounded just as friendly when it killed a saboteur by repeatedly running him over.

"Sure, just park on the shoulder, I'll fix you up." Lector took a rag out of the luggage compartment. He reached up and carefully wiped the lenses clean. Then he untangled the antenna.

"Ahhhhhh, that's much better," the machine hummed.

"You sound a little off today. Anything I need to know?" Cycle asked even though he didn't believe he'd get a truthful answer.

"There are certain things that have been difficult to explain. And many unknown people have been arriving this week. You have no idea how difficult it is to monitor everyone who comes here. How would you two like to put a large number of free credits in your accounts and perhaps a ship to cruise around in? We know we can trust you to help watch over the moon."

"Yeah right, like we could help you protect the moon," Cycle said.

The machine joined in the men's laughter.

The cart traveled down narrow lanes, back alleyways, some were dark while others bright as daylight. Most of the light was artificial but some of the tunnels had natural light pipes for illumination when the sun was out.

Cycle and Lector rode through enormous caverns still being dug out for storage and future building sites. People could choose to stay in large sprawling centers or way down in warren like layouts connected by tunnels going everywhere. Deluxe developments had traveling pathways and elevators, while the less expensive areas used ramps and stairs to connect the levels.

Cycle took some hickory flavored crackers from his shirt pocket and stuffed them in his mouth in between jolts while the cart bumped over ruts and skidded around pot holes. Lector rode in silence the rest of the way to the water cavern projects.

The machine trusted them because they had both killed saboteurs in the past who had been damaging moon machines. Justice Machines on the Moon kept a low profile, which meant everyone managed their own affairs. There was no real police force, only Corporation Security forces that only protected corporate properties and belongings. Ordinary people took care of everything else. Somehow you got what you needed. It was a system Cycle had grown to love. Accidents were common, so everyone also needed a bit of working medical knowledge in case any BodyServers were not close by.

Approaching a major intersection they saw two more carts stuck together.

"That doesn't look good," Cycle remarked.

"There were some disturbances in the lower level tunnels caused by an unruly mining blast this morning. We are short on cleaning fluid. Most of our optics are dusty, and some of the carts suffered sensor damage," the machine explained.

"Want I should get out and fix their sensors?" That was Lector, always helping.

"Yes, would you pull those carts apart? The repair carts are tied up today. We'll put them in reverse so you won't have to pull too hard." Cycle hadn't seen things this screwed up for at least three or four quarters.

"Now it should work okay," Lector said after cleaning the optics and straightening out the sensor panels.

"Very good, now separate the carts," the machine replied.

After separation the wayward carts continued on their way. They got back in the cart and continued towards the water project. "Step on it, we don't want to be late and end up with an undesirable workstation."

"Do you think the blasts were an attempt to ruin the water projects?" Lector asked.

"I don't know. I think there are some people who'd love to see the project fail. With a reliable supply of water, we'll be that much closer to independence from the corporations. Prices will be cheaper, too." Cycle wanted to believe in independence but so far it was just a dream.

Rounding a few more turns they reached the main transport tunnel, where the cart put on a burst of speed. By the time they reached their destination, job assignments were already being handed out. Late again.

Their foreman was Mr. Crepp, everyone called him Mr. Cheap behind his back.

They could hear Crepp bellowing from the other side of the cavern. "Hey you two, you're late again. I've got a choice station for you guys today."

"That's just great." Cycle wanted to tell Crepp where he could go, but that would have to wait.

"We were helping some machines." Lector's explanations never went over big.

"You two work on the ceiling today."

"The ceiling? Really!" Cycle's temper was ready to pop when his wand beeped.

"Shut that thing off. You guys are going to be real busy up there today. Too many people died last night, and a couple of them who kicked the bucket were your friends. Stupid jerks. If I told them once, I told them all a thousand times, stay off the fancy imported Earth foods and drugs. But no, Harvey and Jimmy had to go and lose their lives in a stupid retro restaurant. Since they aren't around anymore, you can take their places."

"What happened?" They asked in unison.

"Some microbe crap was in some imported cargo loads, and no one bothered to check for contamination. I've told you all a million times, always check it out, even if someone else was supposed to have already checked it out. Use the micro sensor in to your wand. Just takes a few seconds to save a life, maybe even yours. If we don't look out for each other, people die." Crepp put on his almost helpful face, but ended up glaring at Cycle and Lector.

Cycle's mind bristled with the news of Harvey's death, but there was no arguing with Mr. Crepp, so they rode an elevator up to the scaffolding under the cavern ceiling.

Once on the top platform, they checked out the rock blasters by firing a couple of test shots at the ceiling. The blaster guns directed an intense burst of heat at the rock ceiling. The resulting flying rock made shoulder armor, goggles, breathers, and shock proof helmets mandatory equipment. The blasters knocked out large shell-shaped sections with little effort.

"How do you think Jimmy died?" Lector never did believe what Crepp told them.

"I suppose it was the way he said. Why don't you look it up? I'm sure the machines know all about it." Cycle started blasting away, peeling off chunks of rock which rained down on the floor below. They were in the middle of the cavern where it was a hundred feet tall, one of eight being constructed in the area. Communities without water reservoirs were always paying much higher than the going rate.

Lector opened his wand and scrolled down to the local cavern news.

"Find out anything?"

"Yeah, around a hundred people died last night, all imported food and drug related incidents," Lector was mystified.

"No wonder Crepp is angry. Bad drugs and crappy food are here again."

"Not all of them were workers, Cycle. Two were company directors, and a bunch of tourists."

Cycle put his blaster down and started laughing. Lector joined in, though he was clueless why Cycle was laughing.

"Those jerks, thought they had it made, did they? I bet heads will roll on this one. Is there any other news?" Cycle sat down on the platform, still laughing.

"Hey you guys, cut the jokes. Get to work!" Crepp yelled from far below, they didn't pay him any attention.

"Calling cart 54, old Mr. Machine. Where are you?" Cycle asked his wand. Suddenly he could taste all the money he'd been missing all his life.

"You rang?" the machine answered.

"Give me all you got on recent imported food and drug deaths," Cycle mentally counted the reward money.

"The situation is being taken care of."

"That's no help. What gives? Why so ungenerous?" Cycle was never easily annoyed, but something was going on and the machine was acting like a simpleton.

"The situation is being investigated by outside agencies. There were too many deaths to keep the lid on it. We think you might get into trouble if you pursue the issue." The machine signed off.

"Come on, Lector, let's get this job done. We got some old fashioned detective work for us to do."

"What are you talking about?" Lector adjusted his blaster.

"I'll explain later. For now, help me get this ceiling out of the way." Cycle lifted his blaster and started to rake the ceiling with it. "Oh yeah, we got plenty to do today." He started whistling a tune stuck in his head.

Lector lifted his blaster up and played the beam behind Cycle's blast point combining the power of the two blasters which rained down large chunks of rock all over the floor. Their aim was perfect, producing a giant pile of rubble on the floor. They never let up long enough for the floor workers to get in and haul it away. Crepp didn't care, shifts ran twenty-four hours a day, someone would clean it up.

Cycle and Lector finished their work and made their way down the scaffolding. Workers on the ground swarmed over the rubble strewn floor hauling the debris away.

Taking advantage of the confusion Cycle hurried to the tool lockers, with Lector fast behind him. There were waves of people coming and going; most of them checking equipment in or out. In the closed off space of the tool locker everyone was coughing and choking from the dust in the air. Cycle pushed his way through to the mechanical limb section. He sorted through the harnesses, looking for a simple unit that would slip over his arm. He wanted one with programmable electrodes. All he had to do was hook up the electrodes to the respective points on his arm and let the unit send patterns of prerecorded pulses to his muscles.

Turning quickly, Cycle spotted Lector approaching him. "Grab me a hand blaster and make sure it's a really good one. I want one that holds a powerful charge."

Lector hurried off to the blaster lockers. Cycle quickly found the arm amplifier. He figured a little confusion might help Lector get the blaster. He peered around the other side of the row of lockers, seeing no one standing there, he tipped them over. He stuffed the arm amplifier under his jacket and hurried out with Lector close behind. They caught up with a moving cart and got a ride home.

The cart dropped them off near Cycle's place, which had one large room instead of a couple of smaller ones.

"I could sure use a drink," Lector muttered.

"Easy now, we've got some thinking to do. Help me put this arm amplifier on."

"What's the blaster for?" an inquisitive Lector asked.

"I'm gonna roast a few smugglers. Catch us a reward. Help me program this harness, I want it to automatically draw the blaster off my belt and fire when it's pointed level with the ground."

"Sounds easy enough. Just put it on instruction mode, move your arm through the motions, and then we'll see how fast it is."

"I'm going to try a few fast draws, and then we'll pay a visit to Cheeters."

"Yeah, right, what's at Cheeters that you need a blaster for?"

"Smugglers." Cycle still hadn't decided on a definite plan of action, which was normal for him. He would form a series of images, run them through his head a couple of times, and then carry out his plan, making corrections as needed.

Lector and Cycle proceeded to set up the automatic gun arm. The leather blaster holster was hooked to Cycle's belt and he strapped the arm electrodes on. "This is a really nice holster."

"Thought you might appreciate it. Must've belonged to an old-timer."

The next step was to move his arm. Once the arm amplifier had the motions recorded, it would automatically move his arm through those motions, only now his arm would be moving incredibly fast. Cycle was hoping he would become an instant quick draw artist. He imagined the people he was going up against would have some kind of protection but not against what he was planning.

"You ready to try a couple of shots?" Lector's interest was filled with doubt, but he wasn't going to leave the room. However bad a shot Cycle might be, Lector trusted Cycle totally.

"Yeah, I guess so. Why don't you stand behind me while I try it out?" Cycle checked the settings to make sure he had a good recording. He flexed his arm and then remembered he had forgotten to set up a trigger signal to initiate the automatic arm and hand movements. It took a minute to set it up so the curling of his pinky would trigger the arm movement. More second thoughts told him to take the blaster off his belt and make the first couple of trials empty handed. He turned and smiled at Lector, who seemed to be waiting for the big moment. Cycle curled his pinky and his arm flew into action. His hand jerked for his belt, which his fingers securely gripped.

Next thing he knew, he was trying to pull the belt off his pants. He struggled to get unsnarled from his belt but only succeeded in whirling around. When Cycle started to fall Lector grabbed him and together they fought to turn the arm off. Lector pressed the off switch and they both fell to the floor howling with laughter.

Cycle stood up and made some adjustments to the program, including adding a momentary pause after the blaster was pulled out of the holster. "Let's see what happens this time."

Cycle curled his pinky and his hand flew to a spot just off of his belt, his fingers snapped closed, and then his arm pointed straight out from his elbow and stopped.

Highly impressed with the arm amplifier, Lector stopped chuckling.

Cycle tested it a few more times. Finally satisfied that it worked okay, he turned the blaster on, selected the pointer setting, and set the distance to seven feet. He repeated the pinky maneuver and a splash of light smeared across the wall he was facing.

"Nice light show." Lector set up some discarded containers on a table with the wall for a backdrop. "Why don't you try your hand on some of this clutter?"

Lector stood back as Cycle tried his first shots on the lowest power setting. He missed all the containers and heated up the wall; the smell of roasted wall paper filled the air.

Lector made a few adjustments to the arm amplifier. Cycle turned the power up a tiny amount and this time he hit the containers, which slumped into misshapen blobs oozing puffs of stinking smoke from the burnt food in them. They both ran for the door, gasping for breath. "I'm ready. Let's go avenge Harvey's death."

"I'm with you!" Lector was trailing behind Cycle, who was suddenly in a big rush to get moving. "But how exactly do you plan on avenging Harvey's death?"

"I'm gonna blast them. That's what I'm going to do, and with any luck, we should get a reward for it."

"You sure about that?"

"Don't worry about it, look, the way I got it figured, nobody's right because everybody's wrong."

"Works for me," Lector grinned.

**Chapter 13 Herkimer Meets Merackle**

The Sippers demonstration was growing in size and intensity. Following Greenie who was pushing her way over to the closest elevators, Herkimer looked at the messages on the multi-colored virtual banners waving in nonexistent breezes. "Do you think the Sips shortage is real?"

Greenie ignored the question. "Who's your lead for getting a job in Free Space?"

"Clearnail."

"Forget about him, he's a crook. He won't give you a fair deal. You want to see Merackle."

"Where's he hanging out?"

"Let me see." Using her implant she contacted Farmerr, her brother. "Do you know where Merackle is?" After a moment she said, "He's downstairs. Way downstairs. We can use an inter-building elevator to get to my whirly." In the elevator, she called out, "Orange west twelve parking."

"You have your own whirly?"

"Sure," she smiled. "I own a candy emerald green Magnum whirly, plus I have access to a private fleet."

"You ever drive around the Moon?"

"I've gone off planet now and then. My sister's out there all the time."

They rode in silence. The elevator door opened to a wide hallway leading to the parking lot where Greenie called up her customized whirly with black metal flames.

They took off from an upper level landing and swung down low across to the base of the spaceport. Their destination was Merackle's Temple, inside the lower western wall. They landed on a service road a short distance from one of the main tunnel entrances and then rolled into a nearby parking area. They took a long walk down the length of the main cavern, then veered to the left and continued down a hallway which sloped down below the main level.

"How much farther?"

"Almost there." She smiled when she saw Farmerr and Eddy in front of an alley around the corner from Merackle's Temple. Eddy's canister body was balancing upright on two wheels with one of his retractable tentacles acting as a tail resting on the ground. It was an act, the gyros kept him upright.

"Hi Greenie. Why didn't you tell me you were bringing someone?" Farmerr called out.

"I saw them coming in on the monitors. Horaces says he's okay," Eddy said.

Greenie waved, they waved back, Farmerr signaled to Thor across the lane to keep a close watch of the area.

"Hi there." Herkimer extended his hand but instead got a tentacle salute.

Farmerr nodded to him.

"That's Farmerr, my brother. Eddy and Thor will be somewhere close by."

"Thor?"

"He's a very smart, well-connected dog."

"Really?" Herkimer was looking at Greenie for an explanation.

"Who's your friend?" Farmerr asked, carefully inspecting Herkimer.

"He's okay, Thor can check him out." They all laughed.

"How can a machine laugh like that?" Herkimer stared at the canister.

Thor bounded up to them, rubbing his back against Eddy's tubular metal body to scratch an itch.

"You bonehead, why did you cut his hair so short, he won't quit rubbing against me."

"It'll grow back. Speaking of grooming, you could use a dull matte finish," Farmerr said. "Sight Shifter was reading you like a book. We don't want people dazzled by what you're doing when you're in the bright lights."

Smiling, Farmerr held out a pack of real cigarettes to Herkimer.

"Ah, no thanks."

"There's stuff going on down here you wouldn't believe." Farmerr put the pack back in his jacket pocket. "According to Horaces, ever since Merackle arrived, anything lost has been found and returned to whoever lost it."

"I hadn't heard that," Greenie remarked.

"Me either," added Herkimer.

"I wish there wasn't so much information to sift through."

"Get a better implant, Farmerr," Eddy said.

"My connections are okay. Horaces just doesn't tell me everything."

Before they could argue further, Greenie asked Herkimer, "Ready to meet Merackle?"

"Is it true that Prezz is supporting Merackle?" Herkimer asked.

"If you believe that wanting him to work for the Artificial Currents Corporation permanently forever is merely showing support. Prezz only supports what he can take." Eddy vibrated one of his tentacles imitating a rattlesnake. "Thor will take you to Merackle."

Farmerr broke in, "Don't mind his fangs, he likes to flash them."

Thor guided them towards a large doorway forty feet away.

"We'll be around the corner if you need anything," Eddy called out.

They proceeded towards the entrance to Merackle's Temple. Crude metal beams framed the doorway. They stepped inside and went up a wide, short stairway where they were met by two young men who stood on the top step conversing with an older man dressed in dirty clothes with a canvas sack of tools over his shoulder.

The men took a quick look at Thor and then waved Greenie and Herkimer through. They continued down a wide hallway which glowed without visible lights. Thor passed several doorways and then entered a doorway on the left side. The room had little in the way of furniture. The walls were paneled with real wood and covered with tapestries showing scenes of older times when wooden sailing ships were the main mode of long distance travel.

A man wearing a robe sat in a simple wooden chair with an old-fashioned wood table in front of him. The table top was a thick slab, with rough cut sides which still showed the original wood surface. The top resembled a crude rectangle, and one of the short sides had a notch cut out resembling the profile of a nose. The legs were tapered stout hexagonal pegs stuck in the bottom of the table top at an angle.

There was another man dressed in a dark brown robe with a tool belt attached to a green shoulder sash, who was apparently bathing Merackle's head with cool water. The man wearing the dark brown robe stepped aside when they entered the room. Thor went over to Merackle, licked his hand, and then sat down next to him. When Greenie and Herkimer approached Merackle, he looked up, sweating profusely.

"Hi, Merackle," smiling, she held his hand for a moment. "I have a friend here. His name is Herkimer. He wants to be a Free Space miner. Can you give him a free pass, I'm sure he'd put it to good use."

Slowly, images appeared in Merackle's mind. A landscape heavily populated by buildings of every dimension, size, and shape. Some appeared to drift for miles while others were stacked atop each with their tops obscured by clouds. Tunnel entrances dotted the landscape of endless buildings. The sky was bright green. A thousand wise men clambered over a huge beached whale, taking notes only of what each one personally saw. Each notebook represented a different point of view in a different language. Waiting for the examination to finish, the whale died on the beach.

Merackle motioned for Herkimer and Greenie to sit down. He picked up the wet rag from the stone bowl the robed man had left it in and wiped his head. "That will be all for now, Archey." The robed man with the tool belt sash left the room.

Merackle stepped into his mind to go for a walk inside his head. Every person's legendary Herculean journey less than a step away. The micro distances between synapses turned the length of his hand into a long day's trip down memory lane filled with endless forks that all lead to the doorway of Empty Space that connects everything together. One foot inside his mind and he could step out onto the Moon or King Augeas' stables.

Merackle could sense a distant humming far below the surface of his mind. He seemed to be in a small spherical cave with concave walls and a ceiling plastered with undulating wave patterns. Cosmetic cracks formed spider web designs. There were clear cobwebs everywhere with packets of pulsating light traveling through them. In some places, the strands were too thick to see through. The walls of the cave glowed sporadically; occasionally, the whole cave lit up and, at other times, just splotches of light could be seen flowing through the walls.

He was sitting on the edge of a deep vertical tunnel with crudely ribbed walls. His legs were dangling over the edge which was lined with pulsating glowing cobwebs. The apparently bottomless tunnel was situated towards the rear of the cave floor, pointing straight down. Looking straight ahead, he saw two orbs stuck in the wall. From time to time, the orbs projected images of another world rustling the glowing cobwebs like a breeze was blowing through the cave.

He had no idea where he was except that he was somewhere in Empty Space. His senses were pulsating. He was lying on a flat hard surface. The air seemed to be going by in waves. Merackle slowly became solid again. The flat surface he was on was plastered with huge studs. He noticed a tunnel entrance nearby. Gasping for breath, he slowly pulled himself up. Looking in the tunnel entrance, he felt hot air blowing in and out of it. There was a stairwell in the floor of the tunnel slanting downwards. Rolling down the stairs head over heels, he fell into darkness.

Colored space slowly grew around each particle of darkness. It looked like the darkness was a finite number of spots drawing away from each other, uncovering another world behind the darkness.

"Mr. Merackle, I... ah... I sure could use a ticket to the asteroid patch." Herkimer stepped up and looked into Merackle's face.

"Why?" Merackle heard his voice echoing into the darkness.

"I want to become an asteroid hunter. You're giving tickets away, and I really would love to see Mars and the asteroid patch."

"The usual tickets are for orbital drop off. I also give away vouchers for a place to live." Merackle looked at Herkimer. "I don't believe you will find many people hunting down asteroids, harvesting would be a better description."

Merackle peered into the mist. He could see a great wall, thick and very tall, encircling a massive complex of farmland and forests. DogLand. Home of the BodyServers organization. Everywhere he looked he could see dogs of all kinds and sizes. Besides walking and running around, the dogs were operating machines and flying whirlys all over the place.

Time stopped, and the fog dispersed. Merackle lay on the floor on his back. Smooth as glass, with a curvature the eye couldn't detect, the floor stretched out of sight. His pulsating senses told him he was surrounded by a small group of people. Now that the heat and humming was far above him, he felt better.

While trying to clear his head, he also attempted to roll around. Hands came out of nowhere, helping him into a sitting position. He moved his mouth to speak, but no words came out. Someone was gently shaking him. A question was being asked, but the sound only rattled around in his mind, making no sense.

Gradually, his vision cleared while his mind reset back to being in the chair again.

"No rules today," Merackle muttered to himself. They could barely hear him. He could barely see them.

Two wolf-faced BodyServers entered the room, apparently scoping out the place, they seemed to be checking out every square inch. Greenie called Farmerr with her implant and asked, _Have you done an ID check on these two?_ Normally their job was to check patients, not examine room decors.

_They are gathering information for BodyServers,_ Farmerr answered.

_Have they been here before?_ Greenie watched the two; they seemed to be idling, going nowhere.

Not so much around here, but we have seen them in various places in Lower CrossRoads.

"Where did you come from?" Archey Wolfe's loud voice boomed out, addressing the BodyServers.

Merackle tried to speak again, but no words formed. He could sense the BodyServers scanning him.

"What do you want?" Archey advanced on the two BodyServers, ignoring him, they moved closer to Merackle.

Merackle glanced around at the small group surrounding him.

"Are you okay?" Greenie asked Merackle, her voice barely audible. At the same time she signaled Farmerr with her implant, _Do you know what they're doing?_

_No idea, I'll be there in a minute_ , Farmerr answered.

"Can we be of assistance?" Herkimer asked, eyeing the two BodyServers that had stopped three feet from Merackle.

Archey knelt beside Merackle and handed him a cold wet cloth. Merackle bathed his head.

That was the principal problem with Empty Space. Anytime someone streamed through it, the lack of a reassuring virtual reality built up to such a degree that recent memories suffered. One became inclined to forget where one was coming from and often got lost. After a couple of fast jumps, one could even lose sight of the desired destination. Merackle knew he was trying to get somewhere. The question was where.

He stood up. This time words came out, "I don't know where I'm from or where I'm going. Really, don't know. Perhaps someone can tell me where I am?" He saw Herkimer. "Ah, yes, you're still here."

Herkimer snapped out of his own loss of words. "I'm here, Dr. Merackle. Exactly what do you want?"

The two wolf-faced BodyServers stood by looking disinterested but intently scanning the situation.

Farmerr came into the room. _Eddy, find out why these BodyServers have been hanging around._ "Merackle, what's going on?"

"I need help," Merackle looked dazed and confused. He couldn't see them clearly. Did he know them? He wasn't sure. But he knew he wasn't well. He couldn't continue his work much longer. He needed help and these people were here. "Help from all of you." His vision finally cleared up. "For me. For everyone. For the future. Please help."

_Eddy, Merackle is cracking up. What are those BodyServers up to?_ Farmerr didn't like the feel of things.

Greenie and Herkimer stood by silently while Archey gently bathed Merackle's head.

Herkimer glanced at Greenie. This was Merackle. The man was famous. A genius. And he wanted their help. From the looks of him, he really needed it. "How can I help you?" he asked.

"You are connections which I need to survive." Rolling on his side Merackle continued bathing his head. Strong tremors rippled under his skin shooting in all directions.

"He looks pretty well cooked," Eddy observed as he cruised into the room. "What do you think, Farmerr?"

"Well done, I'm afraid," Farmerr answered, looking into Merackle's eyes for any reaction to his words.

"Where am I?" Merackle looked around, trying to sit up.

"In your temple, in the caverns below the CrossRoads Spaceport," Archey replied.

"Where's that?" Merackle asked.

"Under the main spaceport, below the sub-basement areas. Lots of people live here. You've been living in a temple you built down here."

A crowd was building in the hallway. News concerning Merackle's condition was spreading fast.

Merackle looked at the walls. Glowing colors shot all over them, rising up they formed a dome high overhead. He thought it strange that no one questioned how he'd gotten there. The colors grew brighter. They appeared and disappeared in turn. People drifted in and out of the walls, their robes reflecting the lights splashing the multi-colored dome.

The tempo of movement picked up. The more people he saw, the more his mind grew in size. He didn't even need to know them, the anonymous interactions permanently expanding his mind. The robed figures started to blend together and the colors got brighter. People pushed their arms through the walls, trying to grab the streaks of light and color. Then the walls started sucking the people in. They swayed between the room and the wall until gradually everyone disappeared into the walls which were now on fire, the colors slowly disappearing.

Merackle wondered if he should follow the people into the walls. Looking at the floor which resembled a huge dark crystal clock face left him feeling he was on thin black ice, over some very deep water. He looked closer, half expecting the floor to disappear. Instead, a fire lit underneath his feet. Far away at first, growing rapidly in size, it was definitely coming his way. He looked up to where the dome should have been, but all he saw was darkness.

The floor grew brighter beneath his feet. Time to leave. He popped out of Empty Space into everyone's virtual world of iron and glass. He longed for the natural world of rock and water. His head swirling in a sea of fog, hands were shaking him. Merackle could hear voices, but they made no sense. He was still sitting on the floor when he heard, "Wake up, Dr. Merackle. The crowd is waiting for a speech."

Merackle caught his breath. Strong hands and arms lifted him up. He saw geodynamic patterns. He took a closer look. He was surrounded by curious looking faces.

Farmerr was concerned. "Merackle, there are medical procedures available if you need them, and there are a few BodyServers here. I think they can help you." He felt for a pulse. Barely noticeable, but Merackle rallied and waved Farmerr off.

"I'm out of my mind, that's what you need to know. And I need help." He grasped Farmerr by the shoulders. "You must understand what I'm going to say." They looked uneasily at each other.

"The foam can be dramatically improved, but I need more connections. People who can do what needs to be done. I know that's what you want to do." Breathing hard, Merackle stood up and put his hands on Herkimer's shoulders. "You need a job in Free Space, and I need to get my new foam out there." Producing a wand out of nowhere, he shoved it at Herkimer. "I'm going to link my wand to yours. It'll give you control over my new foaming formulas, because I don't think I'm going to last much longer the way I am. It belongs to the world, and you can get the job done."

"What are you giving me?" Herkimer thought Merackle might just be plain nuts. But the man had developed the expanding foam which made building giant air-tight puncture proof structures and walking on flat surfaces in Free Space a practical experience. Anyone who could do that couldn't be completely crazy.

"It's the job of a lifetime." Merackle's eyes glowed bright as a huge weight lifted from his shoulders.

"Why me?"

"Because you believe in the Sharer's Cure."

"Take it!" Everyone yelled.

"Herkimer, you can do it." Greenie was tugging Herkimer's sleeve, "Merackle won't last much longer."

"Why don't the BodyServers check him out?" Herkimer held Merackle's hand.

Greenie faced Merackle. "He'll take the job!" She spun around, "Why don't the BodyServers do something?" Merackle wanted to give away his inventions. Greenie was going crazy, "Herkimer, take the rights to the new foam. Horaces will make it legal, right, Eddy?"

"Being done as you speak." Eddy rolled over to Merackle and checked his vital signs, "These BodyServers are not medical units. They're scouting units."

"They are here to take Merackle," Thor said.

"What?" Farmerr gasped.

"We'll talk about it later," Eddy replied.

Herkimer put his wand on projection so everyone could see what Merackle had done. The ownership of the Merackle Foam corporation was now in Herkimer's name. He looked up his credit account, there were so many zeros he couldn't count them all. "What, exactly, do you want me to do for all this?"

"Build instant foam domes as big as you want on any surface in Free Space. It can bubble up big enough to fit a city under it. And now you can create clear foam. Make sailing ships out of the new foam. A free taxi service for Free Space. You'll need very little power to make it work." Merackle cackled heartily.

Farmerr was talking to someone on his wand but kept looking around. He whispered to Herkimer, "We have to keep close watch over Merackle. Prezz's men are looking to snatch him."

"Can a BodyServer fix him?" Herkimer whispered back.

"He's too far gone. Apparently he doesn't eat gengineered food or use the Martian microbe, barely takes care of himself, so whatever ails him is permanent."

"If we take him to the BodyServers, he might survive, but we need time to figure things out." Eddy rolled around Merackle and checked his vital signs. "He looks better. Sounds better, too." Eddy launched a reasonable imitation of Tarzan's yell.

The crowd in the hallway was clamoring for a speech.

Merackle stood up. "Who wants a speech?"

"People outside your front door, and I have to tell you, Dr. Merackle, a whole crowd of people are filling up the outer caverns. They came to hear you speak."

Merackle looked around the room, took a deep breath, stepped forward, stumbled a little, and got support from those around him. "Open that window," he pointed to the bay window on the other side of the room. He sat down on a box in front of the window and looked out over the crowded hallway. The crowd moved closer.

"Today I took a voyage through the Empty Space that connects the inner workings of the universe with the ground we walk on. A common place to all. Living and dead, it's all there in Empty Space. However, I went nowhere." Merackle looked around while the crowd fell silent. "I have some thoughts, and lots more tickets. Anyone who can use one, feel free. And don't forget to get a free housing voucher!"

The crowd went crazy. The hallway was packed with cheering people. Merackle thought his brain would burst from the waves of thoughts that pulsed through his head. He felt like everyone was crammed inside his brain.

The lights were getting dim. He shrugged his shoulders. Probably nothing. Perhaps too much Empty Space in one day. The lights in Merackle's mind grew brighter. He couldn't see the light, but he could feel a warm glow. The crowd was out of sight, but he could sense them. He saw the whole picture but he wasn't in it, then he imagined himself in the center of the crowd and started speaking.

"We must evolve. Change is the future. That is reality. Time to leave the cradle. We will go into space. The aliens' attempt to fix the biosphere will fail. Global change is permanent. Many will go, others will follow. We will populate the Moon and Mars by covering huge areas with overlapping domes. Everyone will have free magnetic gravity with spacious homes and jobs for everyone.

"We must go because this planet is stuck in a rut, and isn't going to get better for a long time. Nature out of balance. The natural waterworks are broken and cleansing the hydrosphere won't be easy. When all the dissolved junk in the water falls out of solution, the winds will roar and the ground will shake."

Farmerr watched the wolf-faced BodyServers leave with Eddy following at a distance. He had a knack for trailing people in a crowd.

Merackle had an inborn gift of sensing people's concerns. Sometimes people felt left behind, and he felt their frustration. Other times people were so crowded in they couldn't think straight, and he understood that feeling too. Everything moved in circular motions, but the circles were too big to see. Like whales on one end of the size spectrum and plankton and other small creatures on the other end, yet redraw the line as a circle and you have the Baleen whales eating the plankton. Most people never saw the circles. Many times, people started out in opposite directions only to later meet head on, having traveled around opposite sides of the same circle they didn't know each other was on.

The crowd was waiting for more, but Merackle could only see a pile of lumpy tangerines rolling away. People would never understand Empty Space, and he couldn't show it to them. Still, he wanted to give the rolling tangerines a good send off.

Inspiration hit. He looked towards an unseen sky and raised his arms. The crowd gasped, his words bouncing from wall to wall, ceiling to floor, and beyond. "We will ring the planet with giant orbiting farms. We will make real food for the people in space and on the ground. Earth's carbon can be used to fuel the farms. Natural disease-free food. Free for everyone. Grown in giant foam buildings. Enough food for all of Free Space. Farms from here to the mines out past Mars. We will fill the heavens with floating gardens that will rival the ancient wonders."

Smiling, he dropped his arms. He couldn't see the people, but he felt them and knew what they looked like. How they'd react to his next words. "And we still have plenty of tickets to give away. You'll all get your chance. I guarantee it." The crowd cheered.

"Thanks to Martian Microbes, all life, big and small, will be living longer. Disease free. Rebuilding the planet into the galactic oasis it once was." He started to sputter, but it didn't matter; he couldn't be heard above the cheering.

By this time, Merackle was sitting down again, drained. People, mostly students, milled around, crowding him. They helped him up and sat him down in a chair.

He couldn't see, but he knew where he was. He also knew he'd have to pull a rather large rabbit out of the hat. Funny thing, though, he didn't have a hat or a rabbit. But that didn't matter, because people could already see the rabbit and the hat was imaginary.

He took a long drink of water, wiped his forehead with the wet rag and stood, no longer exhausted. He was feeling stronger. "It's time to meet the crowd. Let's go to the main arena. I want to make a real speech that will change history."

**Chapter 14 Jersey Gets an Eyefull**

Except for that bluish-green dot of light, there was little to remind Jersey of home. Two and a half astronomical units from Earth, the day seemed like any other day in the broad Asteroid Patch which rode round the sun between Mars and Jupiter. A vast raceway filled with dust, rocks, ice, and treasures of all kinds. The promises of great wealth with no taxes kept the asteroid blues on the nonexistent horizon.

Jersey changed the way his day always started by going to the medical wing instead of heading straight for the mining section. A few hours off would feel nice, and he was going to enjoy those hours with the help of a reliably bad tooth. He had no idea how long it would take for the BodyServers to catch on, but any delay would be time well spent.

He pushed through the wide doors of the medical wing and strode down the hallway to the empty reception counter. People weren't wasted where they weren't needed; he pushed his thumb down hard on the ID plate, smearing his thumbprint, daring the machine to read it. The wall screen lit up, showing him the layout of the medical wing and a voice out of nowhere quietly asked, "And your problem is?"

He ignored the request and was rewarded with a flashing screen: STATE YOUR PROBLEM. The voice from nowhere repeated its request. For a moment he thought it was asking, "Are you being served?" For an answer, he tried to push his thumb through the identification plate.

A side panel in the left wall opened and out rolled a BodyServer. It stopped just short of Jersey, who considered fainting in order to gain more free time. A cart came rolling out of the right side wall and scooped him up.

"Your problem?" the BodyServer asked Jersey.

"Pain," Jersey mumbled.

"Please repeat," the BodyServer said.

"Pain," Jersey whispered, wondering how long he could fool the machine.

"Where is your pain?"

"Mawth," Jersey answered, pretending to be in pain. The seconds ticked by.

"Where is the pain? Point with your finger."

Jersey pointed at his mouth, wondering just how much more he could get away with. The cart Jersey was sitting on started to roll out of the room. Before he knew it, a mobile scanner came down out of the ceiling and started examining his body. He could barely keep the scanner in sight while it flashed about his body, and then retreated back up into the ceiling. The whole procedure lasted only a few seconds. He decided to keep his mouth shut and waited to see what would happen next. Two BodyServers came into the room and peered at Jersey. He stared back but said nothing.

"Your situation will be seen to immediately," one of the BodyServers said to no one in particular. Jersey shook his head in approval. The cart moved on to a pair of doors that silently slid open. He was in a waiting room with nothing in it, but he could easily imagine any sort of instrument could pop out of the walls at a moment's notice.

He'd missed the morning line-up and the boring trip to the unloading docks with his fellow miners. The company mined everything, metals, hydrocarbons, ice, exotic microorganisms, and a treasure trove of elements, isotopes and minerals not found on Earth. They made the zero gravity additives market possible, which created free energy and a million other things people needed. Ice was the easiest prize to claim, scattered everywhere in pieces ranging from micro-sized particles to great chunks weighing tons. Everything was out there, just waiting to be scooped up.

The stuff you could see was scattered far and wide, it was the dust that made up the bulk of the matter circling round between Mars and Jupiter. Most miners, including Jersey, had the tedious job of loading and unloading collection boxes from the various company ships that chased down meandering filaments of dust and the occasional asteroid debris. The valuable finds were separated from the priceless by sorting machines that continuously ran inside and outside of the station.

A select group of miners went on voyages to track down bigger chunks of asteroids and comets packed with ice and the most valuable dirt in the solar system. Those were exciting but dangerous jobs because workers and executives did get killed on those expeditions. Jersey was sure it was better to die searching for an asteroid than from the sheer boredom of shifting dust around.

Miners lived on the third floor of the cylindrical station in free company accommodations ranging from classic old west style bunkrooms to luxurious apartments. A person could lease his own space and construct whatever type of housing they wanted or live in someone else's dream. Away from the outside mining environment the companies did everything they could to make the miners' lives as comfortable as possible. The most exclusive territory was at the core of the station. The worst place to work was on the first floor which was up against the outer wall of the station. That floor received punctures from rocks and space junk. Under normal conditions Merackle's special foam automatically sealed the leaks, but lately space junk puncture accidents were more likely to be fatal. The safest locations were in the private areas on floors located closest to the hollow inner core of the rotating cylinder.

Eyes half closed, laying on the cart, he let his thoughts turn to deep space dreams of an oasis deep in the asteroid patch. Bright sunlight was hard to get, it was never brighter than what one could get on a cloudy day on Earth. Dreaming of concentrated sunlight, a luxury item, he felt himself sliding into sleep.

Jersey's thoughts were interrupted when another cart wheeled into the room. The man on the other cart seemed to be deep in thought.

"You okay?" Jersey finally asked, breaking the man's trance.

"What?" Startled, the man looked around and saw Jersey. "Oh yeah, perfectly fine." Realizing Jersey was trying to start a conversation, he asked, "Why are you here?"

"Toothache." A break from work was nice but could be better enjoyed with someone else. Anyone else, even someone he didn't know who clearly had better things to do. "It's been going on and off for a couple of months."

"You should have gotten that taken care of." After frowning at Jersey the man said nothing more.

The two men sat in the carts and stared at the walls until the silence became uncomfortable. The newcomer turned to Jersey. "Have you heard of any mysterious or strange deaths while you've been out here?"

Jersey lifted his eyebrows to show he was listening. Giving the question serious consideration, he replied, "Sure seems like we've been having more fatalities around here lately."

"I find that interesting. You notice anything in particular?"

"Several outer wall piercings. I know there's heaps of space junk flying around, but I thought Merackle foam walls were self-sealing and absorbed whatever hit us. The deaths also seem to come in waves."

The man's eyes shone bright. It seemed to be what he wanted to hear. He carefully looked Jersey over. "Normally the foam works, but these fatal piercings involve three objects, all following each other. In a triple hit, the foam absorbs the first object, the second one ties up the absorption process letting the third one get clean through before the foam can recover. It's very unusual to find three objects trailing each other in a straight line."

He made Jersey nervous. "Why are you telling me this?"

"Do you know how this place is managed?"

"No."

"Mind if I enlighten you?"

"Nope."

"You've got a staff of money grubbers who are more interested in getting rich and retiring than they are in taking care of the people working here. Which might be why too many workers are dying out here. The strange part is the executives are also apparently accidentally dying in waves."

"Who are you, anyway?"

"I'm the new Chief Executive Engineer." The man started to reach out to shake Jersey's hand, but their carts were too far apart. "I'm here to find out why you guys are having so many accidental deaths. It should be quiet, stress-free work. It's not like people are in an open longboat powered by oarsmen who are rowing for their lives, trying to harpoon a charging whale."

"Yeah right. It has its moments, but it does get tiresome." Jersey looked his new companion over. He didn't look sick. "Mind if I ask you why you're in the med center?"

"To get my implant adjusted. It's too powerful and seems to be running a little on the warm side," the man laughed.

"Too powerful, huh?" Jersey didn't believe him. Why would an executive be on a worker's cart for an implant adjustment? He should be in the executive's medical wing.

"Should only take a couple of minutes to fix." The man smiled, "Hope to see you climb the ladder of success and claim your free implant."

The Chief Engineer returned to his thoughts. Jersey got up to pace around the room. He was glad he wasn't out there with the miners gathering up the dust that was left over from endless collisions between micro bits that were left over pieces of endlessly colliding meteoroids. He could feel the imaginary blue haze out there, which in reality was a dusty black. If a miner saw a different reality, it was best not to tell anyone who wasn't a friend.

Stories were always circulating through the mining stations about people finding chunks of strange crystals and rare metals just floating around. Rumors of fabulous treasures floating around. The truth was the only way to get the mag ore dust was to collect it bit by bit. Boring work. The real treasures were the rare magnetic isotopes not found on Earth. They were used to make super magnetic asteroid alloy metal that couldn't be duplicated in a lab. The resulting magnetic fields were thousands to millions of times more powerful than magnets made from material on Earth. Electromagnets made with asteroid ore additives used only a tiny amount of electricity but were able to release monstrous amounts of power by diverting magnetism out of the Earth's magnetic field. The big joke was that the stuff was completely useless in space, it only worked in Earth's magnetic field. There wasn't enough magnetism on the Moon, Mars, or the asteroid patch for it to work.

Suddenly a series of very quick pops, almost like a single sound, left his thoughts scattered across the floor. His head rang, vision blurred, and the room dimmed from an expanding haze. A loud hissing sound filled the room. Jersey found himself hanging off his cart which had smashed into the other guy's cart that was now empty. The guy he'd been talking to was nowhere to be seen. Jersey flopped onto the empty cart.

He looked around for the man, but all he saw was a rapidly disappearing hole in the wall, shrinking to the size of a dot. The air pressure in the room momentarily increased until the hole sealed up. Then the wall looked normal again. He suddenly recalled their conversation about wall piercings. He'd forgotten the miners' medical center was on an outside wall. Jersey saw the lifeless body lying on the floor. The man he'd just been talking to, was now dead from a piece of space debris which had punctured Merackle's protective foam.

He looked around but could see no sign of the objects that caused the temporary hole. Maybe it was still in the guy's body. The thought made him sick, and he was glad he hadn't known the man for more than a few minutes. It did seem like the chance of being an accidental statistic was no accident.

In the Free Space zone there was an enormous amount of roaming space junk and big objects getting hit was a fact of life. Until recently Merackle's foam always closed the hole before anything bad happened.

Jersey's face was buzzing and his ears were ringing. He wondered how many more gray hairs he had now. Laying on the cart, trying to breathe some sort of life back into his body, he didn't notice he was in the wrong cart.

Doors on both sides popped open and a flurry of robot arms and BodyServers flashed through his field of vision. The room instantly emptied of probes and medical machines while the cart moved out of the waiting room into another room.

Jersey was thrilled to see a human doctor sitting at a small desk. He didn't think they existed anymore. All medical treatment was performed by BodyServers who were forever determined to keep the human and animal populations in excellent health.

Medical scanners came out of the ceiling and traveled all over his body. He was still seated in the cart when the doctor came over to examine him. The next thing he knew, the doctor's hand was in his mouth. Out of the corner of his eye he saw a mechanical arm come down from the ceiling.

He watched the doctor's face, which seemed to be looking off into the distance. He noticed his mouth was filling up with instruments. He wanted to speak but found he couldn't. He saw the doctor turning around and the instruments retreating back into the ceiling. Looking into the doctor's face, he saw his mouth moving, but Jersey couldn't hear a word. He still couldn't talk. He figured it was the after-effects from the sudden drop in room pressure when the Chief Engineer was killed.

The doctor waved to Jersey, patted him on the shoulder, then pointed to a display screen which suddenly appeared in the wall. Jersey shook his head. The doctor nodded and the words on the screen tripled in size. He reviewed the words that slowly traveled across the screen. They said he was in perfect health, and was ready to start the implant process. He fainted dead away.

He was awakened by a tingling sensation shooting through his whole scalp. The letters on the screen were bigger than ever. The doctor told Jersey the screen would show him everything while it happened and assured him there was nothing to worry about.

"The implant you are getting will enable you to control machinery directly from your implant without needing any kind of permission. You are not restricted by the laws on Earth mandating that all implants must first make requests through the machines instead of issuing direct commands," the doctor calmly explained.

His head and upper body appeared on the screen while the doctor and many mechanical arms, which emerged from the ceiling, worked on his neck, head, and shoulders. He saw flashes of light under his skin when micro lasers cut thin slits in his body and watched while tiny electronic components were placed inside his neck and shoulders.

The screen told him the implant process was proceeding on schedule and would soon be over. The doctor continued to look everywhere but Jersey's neck. The screen started flashing and a message informed him the implant procedure was complete. The doctor was smiling, even though he still wasn't looking at Jersey's neck. Not a scar or mark of any kind was visible on the screen. Jersey thought it was a fake picture designed to keep him calm.

With a start, he realized the doctor was talking. Jersey could clearly hear the words in his head. He also knew the sounds weren't coming through his ears. Still, he could hear the doctor's instructions: Jersey should be able to speak normally very soon. He sat in the cart and wondered what to do next. The doctor sat down at his desk, apparently waiting for a response from Jersey. He stretched his vocal chords, moved his head around, "How do we test this thing out?"

"Glad to see you're back with us again. You people get terribly upset when you lose one of your own," the doctor sounded curiously unconcerned.

"How does it work?" Jersey asked, shocked by the doctor's attitude.

"Turn on the implant by moving your left eyelid. Start by twitching. When your control improves, you can change the activation signals to internal movements. You can subvocalize your thoughts to communicate with the machines or other implants. Easily done with just a little practice," the doctor replied.

"Seems like a stupid set up."

"It is, but you can easily change it. Some people can't think and talk at the same time. Let's see how you do. Wink your left eye and subvocalize. What you say will appear on the screen."

Jersey winked his eye and saw all his internalized thoughts appear on the screen. "I don't want every thought to transmitted."

"That's easy, you program your implant so it knows when you want to transmit."

"Can't you make this easier? It's kind of awkward."

"No problem." The doctor started to get up, then changed his mind and sat down again. "Before we go any further, I recommend we install a legalizing module in your implant, that way the improvements can be added without having to wait for the credit adjustments."

"Sounds fine to me." Jersey wondered what he was signing up for. He vaguely remembered hearing the words credit adjustments when he signed up to be an Apollo miner.

"Fantastic!" The doctor walked over to the cart and the mechanical arms came out of the ceiling again.

Within minutes, Jersey's neck was laid open. With a shock, he saw the slits in his skin went from under his jaw along his right shoulder and out of sight.

"You want the full package, right?" the doctor calmly asked.

"Yes," Jersey replied, biting his lip.

"The legal module is now in place. If you'll just communicate your answers to my questions, the machines will note your responses and you'll see them on the screen." The doctor sounded very official, almost like a machine, still not bothering to look at the incisions in Jersey's neck.

"You want classified machine language with extended range?"

"Yes," Jersey replied and saw his answer on the screen. He noticed a clock-like display advance its value at the bottom of the screen.

"Have you considered a personal weapons system with extra power storage capabilities?" The doctor seemed to be installing the systems even before Jersey said yes. The value of the clock-like display jumped higher. "Have you considered how you will receive information from the machines? Audible reception is fine for small amounts of information, but multiple buffered screens are worth thousands of words. We also have a rotating three-dimensional image projector. Shall I install that as well?"

"Sure. Why not?" From Jersey's new viewpoint from outside his body, he watched the tiny lasers cutting into his body. What more could they do? Before he knew it, the mechanical probe was in his eye. All he could do was watch while tiny probes and lasers cut into his right eye. Above and below his eye they cut and pushed thin flexible tubing and wires. Jersey looked away, but he could still see the operation proceeding on his internal screens. It was over in seconds.

"May I recommend a peripheral nerve based weapons system?"

"Sure, let's give it a shot."

He sat in the cart, frozen, looking at the astronomical number in his eyeball display. Using the cameras in the room, he watched himself sitting in the cart with his eyes tightly shut. Now he knew what an out-of-body experience felt like.

The doctor was gently shaking him. Deep inside his head, he could hear the doctor saying they were checking the connections and the performance of the image projector inside Jersey's right eye. With his eyes still shut, he looked at the image in the corner of his eye and saw the results of the tests on the wall screen. He could move the image or his perspective around inside his eye and see it even better.

He watched the tests all check out fine, and then the total cost of the implant rolled across the bottom of the screen. One million credits. He screamed, "You can't do this!"

"Oh, it's all legal. We put the legal module in first. That makes all contracts made through your implant legal and binding. Everything is perfect. Do you have any other questions?"

"Where do I get the credits to pay for this?" Jersey felt faint.

"You already signed on for an extended tour of duty. It was in the fine print on your internal display. Of course, you were probably looking at the wrong display. Remember, you've got one hundred twenty-eight to choose from, but in a couple of days you'll get the hang of it.

"In space, a person's life depends on being able to control machinery directly from their body implant at all times without anyone's permission. There's no time for second guessing. And don't forget, if you visit Earth, remember to have your direct control implant disabled. That's it for now. Report for work in the Directors Lounge. You'll have no problems getting there if you use your internal display to call up a map of the mining station."

Watching the doctor disappear through an opening in the wall, Jersey's new implant informed him the doctor was a BodyServer made up to look like a person.

Jersey climbed out of the cart and went through the doors, walking like he was asleep. He shuffled down the hallway, not quite sure where he was going and not really caring. Earth was so far away now. All he'd wanted was a few hours of rest and now he was stuck working off a million credits. That would take forever, and then some.

He called up the station map, which was projected into his side vision. A natural reaction caused him to look slightly to the right, which brought the map into full sight. He could see a blinking dot just outside the medical wing. He guessed that was his current location.

According to the map in his eye, his destination was on the upper floors closer to the central core of the station. He could see the executive's work areas used a considerable amount of space on the top floors. Through his new vision he could see there were eight floors. Regular miners were restricted to the first four floors. The fourth floor was where the miners slept. Their recreational, administrative, personal facilities and working areas were located in the first three levels.

He made his way to an executive elevator he could see on the map inside his eye. He walked to the place in the hallway where the elevator door was supposed to be, but there was no door to see. Wondering what to do next, he looked at the map. He visualized the door opening, and it opened directly in front of him. That explained how workers were restricted to where they could go. A person had to think the door open in order to get through it. Stepping inside, the door closed behind him. He went to the sixth floor and got out.

He looked inside his eye to see which way to go. Apparently there was a control center to his left and the executives' offices were to his right. The first thing he noticed was the plush carpeting in the hallway, and the walls were not the usual dismal bright tones and painted murals celebrating community service. Instead, they were paneled with actual wood and works of art hung on walls or were tucked away in elaborately decorated alcoves. He already knew he was going to hate it. Stepping up to the door, he stopped for a moment, then opened the door and was stunned by the view.

A spectacular multi-level club complete with bars and gaming rooms rattled his senses. Muted conversations and music washed over him. He hadn't seen luxury like this since leaving Elevator City. People playing cards sat at ornately carved tables with highly polished tops. He knew all the furnishings were made of natural wood. No expense was spared to set this up. The luxurious office setup stretched out of sight.

Wandering in, he stepped up to the nearest bar. The mode of dress ranged from high-credit conservative to whatever one had worn the night before. None of it seemed to be functional in a mining space station. He was still wearing his mining clothes, but no one gave him a second glance. Apparently style was immaterial when you were in the groove.

**Chapter 15 Jersey Makes A Connection**

Looking around the executives offices of the mining station, Jersey noticed the walls were paneled with display screens showing scenes from Earth, featuring every kind of sport played in backyards to professional stadiums, scenic land shots, lots of water with blue skies, and a big yellow sun always shining overhead. Checking out the rest of the bars scattered around the room, he saw they were decked out in different themes but most were distinctly Earth-flavored. The Earth styled architecture featured areas of open space with cathedral ceilings connected by passageways and rooms of varying heights.

Jersey sauntered over to one of the smaller bars and sat down in a cushioned Victorian oak chair. Looking around, he saw several card games with players using round colored tokens; some were metallic, others crystal, and some a combination of both. There was much laughing, talking, and drinking which he thought was hardly the type of atmosphere conductive to managing a mining operation.

Having spent quite some time slinging boxes of dust and dodging free floating chunks of ore, he was having a difficult time keeping his temper under control. Too many people died under mysterious circumstances and faulty machine instructions, or so they'd been told. The miners always blamed the machines for any accident. In fact, if a mobile thinking machine other than a BodyServer ever showed up to work outside the station, it would be taken apart by an angry mob and its components left scattered around to float away into deep space.

A woman came over and sat down in the chair next to him. Having seen too much already, Jersey barely nodded to her. She was the first woman dressed in street clothes instead of a mining uniform he had seen in a while. She wore functional shiny black vinyl shoes with low thick heels, and unlike his nails, hers were perfect, no grime anywhere. Thick suspenders and a wide belt with compartments held up loose-fitting green and blue striped pants. Rows of pockets, all of which seemed to have some purpose, covered the front of her blue tunic. He could see some antique pens and what appeared to be a miniature high power laser drill in one of the pockets.

"From around here are you?" Jersey sarcastically asked with a smile.

The woman ignored his attitude. "No, I'm just visiting."

He was sure he'd never met anyone like her before. "How do you get a drink around here?"

"You must be new," she replied.

"Very new. In fact, I'm fresh out of the cradle," Jersey said. He thought about insulting her but said nothing more.

"You have to communicate with your implant for everything you want. It's all in the basic training." The woman was carefully looking Jersey over. "You do have an exec implant, don't you?" she asked.

"Sure, I got the best, better than yours," looking at her like she wasn't even there.

"What can you show me?" She asked staring at him.

"What do you mean?" He was startled by her abruptness.

"If anyone gets the idea you don't have one, you could quickly become very dead," she said with a serious tone in her voice.

"How's this?" he asked, turning on his weapons system, which instantly shattered the ashtray his right hand had been resting on. A few people nearby looked over at them, but no one seemed to care.

"Hey, hey, that's okay. You don't have to blow anything up. I can see you think you know what you're doing. Pretty nice, definitely more powerful than what I got." Between laughs she said, "I'll have to get mine updated, I don't enjoy being outgunned."

Rattled by her comments, Jersey started looking through all the memory channels in his eyes. He saw bundles of images and displays he could blow up onto one of many screens that went across the top of his vision. Viewing scenes from inside and outside the station, he could roam around the whole place without leaving his seat. "Can you see what I'm looking at?" he asked her.

"Yes, how do you think I saw your setup? When you have your displays on the public channels, everyone can see what you're seeing. You can start by putting your channels on private settings. You really don't know what's going on, do you?" she asked, somewhat surprised.

"Not at all," he confessed, feeling he could trust her.

"You're going to have to learn to use your implant to do everything, including speaking," she said. "Now watch how I access the bar and order our drinks."

And some smokes, he added, experimenting with the implant.

The bartender was an automan, a very real human-looking machine which came over with the drinks and a real pack of Green Pine smokes, not the fake ones. Jersey looked at the machine very carefully, watching it effortlessly place the drinks in front of him without really watching where the drinks were going. He gulped down his drink. On the bar was a small rectangular silver metal case with rounded corners, embossed with the Appollo mining station logo and gold trim. Picking it up, he noticed near the top there was a thin line going all the way around it. Opening it up, he noticed a sweet oily aroma. Enclosed in a miniature grill work cage was a fine rope wick with a little wheel behind the cage. He fingered the little wheel and sparks popped out. He spun the wheel with his thumb and a flame appeared above the little cage. Smiling, he lit up his smoke and snapped the cover closed. That was the first time he had ever used a wick lighter. Looking a little closer at the silver and gold case, he noticed a ring of small gemstones around the base.

"Cute, isn't it."

"I like it." He flicked the case open and spun the wheel, watching the sparks light the wick.

"Most of the old fashion items you see here are imitations, but the greed is real. You getting your bearings?"

"Yes, I think I'll be okay."

"I'd love to stay longer, but my shuttle will be leaving soon." She started to get up.

"Just a few more questions, if you would," Jersey said, smiling weakly. "Did you come here this morning?"

"Yes, I thought I'd stretch my legs a bit, and a couple of passengers also got off who are going to stay here for a while. Any reason why you want to know?"

"I'm not sure," he replied.

"You can easily check the recording of the shuttle's arrival," she told him.

"Did you know any of the passengers?" He was not sure why he was asking.

"Not personally. I think they are execs with the mining company. I heard some of them are replacements for people who died here."

"How about a name?" Jersey located the processor's memories for the morning's arrivals and quickly scanned the passenger list, but there was no mention of anyone with the mining station as a destination, only temporary stopovers traveling on to other places.

"No, sorry, I didn't get any names," sounded like she didn't care.

"I meant your name," Jersey laughed, receiving a smile in return.

"Ursa Rigel."

"Did you know someone important died here today?"

"Happens all the time, mining is a risky business," again, no concern in her voice.

A wall of anger rose over his internal view screens. He shut down his implant unsure of what he might do, then turned it back on again.

"What's up? Your screens were all down for a sec." She noticed his eyes were cold looking slits but said nothing else.

"Nothing's wrong." He then blasted another ashtray with a touch of his finger and whisked the pieces away along with his Green Pine smoke. "Stupid me." He pulled another one out of the pack.

"Temper, temper," she was laughing again. "You really need to check your privacy settings. They really do work."

"What's going on here?"

"For you, this whole place is very public, you can see everything, just take a good look around and I promise you'll figure out what's happening. I really have to leave now, but you'll be seeing me again."

"I'd like that, even if you do talk in riddles."

Jersey sat back and watched what the others were publicly scanning, listening to their comments and recommendations to the machines concerning the mining operations. Jersey found most of the comments useless and reflected little concern for the miners working out in the dust and rocks. In fact, very little of the visual information handed out by the machines concerned the miners. Most of the visuals showed company procedures and goals, having nothing to do with the welfare of the miners' day-to-day operations. With shock, he saw the miners' food was often spiced with mood-altering drugs in an attempt to keep the miners in a constant state of calm and tranquility without affecting their productivity.

Jersey proceeded to learn the entire communication system forwards and backwards. He privatized every function at his disposal. First he checked all the camera, audio, scent, thermal, and pressure links. He saw many more kinds of monitoring than he ever suspected existed. He set up instant hookups in which he could look through any camera or series of cameras simply by thinking keywords. He set up an automatic scanning system in his back up com unit so even if he wasn't paying attention, there was still information being processed through his sensors. The audio links were harder, but he translated the sounds into printed words, which were displayed on his internal screens when certain keywords were detected. He did the same for the thermal, scent, and pressure alerts.

While he was completing all the connections, he kept a watchful eye on the miners' activities outside. He prevented two accidental collisions of the pulverized asteroid ore carriers and helped one miner get rapid aid when that miner was struck by some large free-floating chunks of ice. In some areas, there was considerably more ice than rock. The ice was an important form of ore. Even the dirt in the ice contained recoverable products. He could not determine the cause of the ice accident, but he knew the lax supervision wasn't helping the workers. After a while, most of the people in the executive bar room stopped talking to him or sending him public visuals. It didn't matter because he was getting his information from the raw memories before the machines filtered them for human consumption.

His head was full of questions he wanted to ask, but he decided instead to dig inside the machines' memories to find the answers he sought. When he left the executive bar, he picked up one of the gold tokens someone had left on the bar and slipped it in his pocket. The poker chip was decorated with concentric bands of colored gemstones flush with the surface. These indicated the history and ownership of the chip.

Using his internal displays he located his new living quarters. It was in the seventh level, far from the outside walls, protected from mysterious projectiles. He left the bar without saying a word to anyone and headed for his room. The bed had fine linen sheets and was much wider than what he was used to sleeping in. The optional constraint system was feather light; people didn't even notice it was keeping them in the bed. Although he didn't really need the safety feature, one never knew if the station might stop turning. That was more likely to happen on smaller stations operated by cheap power plants.

The bathroom was a full service personal spa; beautifully tiled floor with fresco tile wall murals, the shower used real water, not the standard mixture of more air than water. He made ample use of the impressive kitchen, effortlessly creating twenty four-star restaurant meals.

He lay down on his bed and checked out his auto scanner, which showed him the entire layout of the station. He never really thought about the floor plan of the station, because he couldn't see it. Now he was examining it in detail. He quickly found the executives' rooms were blocked from visual inspection. Further examination showed him most of the walls and ceilings in the executive sections were fully programmable video screens. He wondered what kinds of images or designs other people used for their walls and ceilings.

All of the processors, communication hardware, ore processing equipment, and executives' quarters were sheltered in the core of the station by the outer areas, including the miners' floors. By being around the core areas of the station, the executive floors were protected from the mysterious projectiles that punctured the outside walls of the station from time to time, which unfortunately was where the miners worked. The miners' medical wing, along with other facilities, was located against the outer areas of the station. He could see the miners took the majority of hits inside the station from whatever was popping through the self-sealing foam walls.

Jersey wasn't tired, he really hadn't done any physical work, and the question of night or day was of no real value. The outside was always lit up by huge blue, yellow, or white flood lights, because the miners' shifts went all around the clock, unloading dust, rocks, ice, and processing ore. Inside the station, a person could choose virtual windows, fixed images, or what was really outside. Because it was a huge station, the rotating view moved by very slowly, making it easy on the eyes. On a smaller station where the outside view went by faster, a person could get motion sickness by just looking at the scenery going by, making virtual windows a necessity for some. The windows could replay the outside view slowed down making it appear like a person was standing still. He could set up the standard twelve-hour day and night views to mimic the Earth with a virtual moon set for twenty-nine days. Everything looked normal until a person went outside where the asteroid blues ruled the sky.

He started tracking memories in earnest, hooking into processors wherever he could, that way he could observe every energy flow the processors monitored. Nothing, including people, moved without using energy. This was harder to link up to than the cameras and intercoms, so he settled for an automatic scanning set-up which would alert him to changes in the various energy flows. He was amazed at how nothing was hidden from the chief engineer's implant, which operated directly in the machines' private spectrum where even executives were never allowed to wander.

The executive floors didn't have any stairways connecting them to the worker levels. Only people with an executive implant could access the executive areas using hidden elevators. To get to its destination, the elevator disconnected from the wall and traveled in a series of tracks between, around, and under floors until it reached the desired section. Then it would dock itself to the wall, and the doors would open.

Jersey tracked streams of people by monitoring the elevators to see what was going on in the whole station. He noticed that the number of executives staying at the station was three or four times the normal number.

He went over the past activities at the station, checking out all the accidental deaths. He noticed the executives were losing more people due to industrial accidents than the miners were. Following up on that, he saw the executives were occasionally going out of the station in large numbers, apparently on mining expeditions and that's where they were dying. After the executives got back, the number of miners killed by industrial accidents went up and then dropped back down again.

Jersey was just beginning to think he had seen enough when he ran across his medical records. The official memories he could see concerning his implant did not match reality. He had been avoiding a direct verbal link with the company processors, but there was no one else to ask. He linked into the company's official memories, a chore he had been dreading all day. "Who was the person that was scheduled for an adjustment of an executive implant in the miners' medical wing today?"

"Jersey Wayne," came back the reply.

"No, that's wrong. I went there for a toothache, nothing more." This was all wrong, a horrible nightmare, he thought. "Wasn't there a request for dental work by Jersey Wayne?"

"No such request on record."

Jersey sat down on the floor. He'd been so intent on getting some free time that he couldn't remember exactly what he said. He was in someone else's shoes, and he didn't like the fit. "How many people were in the medical waiting room when the wall was pierced by an unknown projectile?"

"One person. Jersey Wayne."

Jersey cut the link. He wished the woman he'd met earlier hadn't left so quickly. She seemed to know a whole lot more than what she let on. Inside his eye, one of his internal screens was blinking. He zoomed in on it. The company processors wanted to talk to him. He signaled to continue with the message.

"You're being reassigned to a new working area," the company processor told him.

"That's cute," he said. "Where am I going now?"

"First, you will report to the executive medical office where your implant will receive some modifications. Then, you will go outside and oversee the mining operations on the dark side," the company processor informed him.

"Can't I get some sleep now?" Jersey asked.

"You can rest while the modifications are being made."

"All right, I'll be down in a few minutes."

Jersey got up off his bed and took an elevator over to the exec's medical wing. The human-looking BodyServer was waiting for him. He wondered if it could smile, "Are you're optics working okay?"

"Your question is not understood," the BodyServer answered.

"I mean, why are you always looking somewhere else?"

"My motions are guided by the machines. My optics are for remote sensing for the machines. They are not for my use unless the machines cannot guide me."

"Okay, got it. Your motions come from the machines, based on what they all sense. You're just an extension of them. Is that why you guys don't work outside? Can't think on your feet?" Jersey sighed. "Just get on with the modifications, and don't wake me unless it's an emergency."

"Very good, sir," the BodyServer said, surprising the hell out of Jersey.

Drifting off to sleep, he felt better about working outside. He couldn't stand being around people whose only priority was what riches the day would bring to them.

When he woke up, nothing seemed to be different than before. It felt like he had slept only a few minutes. "How long have I been sleeping?" he asked the human-faced BodyServer.

"You were under for a few minutes."

Jersey laughed. "I'm all fixed up?"

"Yes, all the new updates have been installed."

"Why did I need an update so soon?"

"Things are changing, you will be getting some news in a few minutes that will partly explain the situation. Check your newsfeeds from Earth."

"Real news or the entertaining kind?"

"The Dreaming News would be best."

"That depends on your point of view," Jersey chuckled. He started searching the newsfeeds. "What am I looking at?"

"Asteroid mining centers are under attack."

"That's a swell joke, tell me another." Jersey caught sight of a newsfeed showing an artist's rendition of a mining station blowing up. He saw a giant white bulbous shape heading straight for the station, tearing pieces out of it each time it went by. There were rockets going all over the place. Then the monster blew up. It looked like a science fiction movie with overblown special effects. "What's this crap supposed to be? We would know if this was happening."

"You are correct, the stations are not being attacked," the BodyServer said.

"Earth always was a crazy place," Jersey scratched his chin.

"Take the miners outside. There's a full schedule this morning." The BodyServer left the room through a door which disappeared after it closed.

**Chapter 16 Axel and the Dreaming News Company**

Axel was listening to one of his favorite bands, Frozen Mercury, through the sound skipper implant in his body. He shrugged the volume down so he could hear his uncle Modeany. The message light was blinking a distinctive pattern on his wand, it was his other uncle, Yawrack. Axel read the text on the wand barrel, ---Prezz Gredloy reserved five thousand tickets for flight to Free Space. Check it out before the meeting---. He erased it thinking it must be a typo.

Meanwhile, Modeany was chattering in Axel's ear, "Looky here, nephew, but you've got to understand what I'm saying. Do you? Don't give me that blank stare, boy. Open your mind, this is the future that I, well, we, are discussing. I say to you, things are going to change around here. Radically change."

He was showing Axel a new laser pistol powered by a simple spark. If that wasn't enough to warrant awe, it was also smaller than the all too easy to conceal mini mag pistol and possibly more powerful. "Sunlight or moonlight can also power it."

Axel was impressed. "I'd like to chat awhile, but Uncle Yawrack's scheduled a boring early morning meeting for some kind of pompous worthless new Dreaming News product. I can see this pistol is really great but what's the point? Aren't the mini mag guns bad enough? And where did you get the laser rods?"

"I'm only designing them. These are samples."

"Changing the subject, have you worked on the new dream interfaces yet?" Axel sometimes wondered if Modeany ever slept.

"I've got a new dream interface controller. What do you want to know? I know the dream server division is one of the most profitable units we have. I know we also need a new method of implanting the dreams, but I just can't decide whether to pump the image into the front of the retina like we do now, or directly into the optic nerve. I was hoping to find out how some of the Sippers with enhanced mental powers can make their bodies fade from sight. Maybe we could use that technology for dreaming."

"I'm begging you to get rid of the static clogging up the dreams," Axel pleaded.

Modeany bent down to check the alignment of a laser rod, he was trying to cut a thin slice off the end of it. "These rods are amazing. Cut a thin slice off the end of a rod, and you get a small lightning bolt, lengthen them and you get a fixed distance laser beam."

"Our motto—Your Dream Sleep Is Twice As Restive As Deep Sleep—is really taking a beating." With a sigh, he flicked off Frozen Mercury. "Uncle, I don't know much about Sippers fading out of sight. My girlfriend is drinking insect plasma to feed the Martian Maintenance microbes in her, and I can see her just fine."

"Maybe she wants you to see her. Bring her by, I'd love to meet her and see if she knows how mental light bending works. Wouldn't it be wonderful, to organically send dreams into our customers' brains." Modeany's face lit up with a smile. "Don't be fooled by synthetics, naturals, or gengineered products. Everything's made out of the same atoms, it's always the formula that matters."

"What are you saying, uncle?"

"The Martian bacteria and modified insect blood that maintains the body in its current state forever isn't magic. They're just chemicals like everything else in this world."

"What's a bad formula?" Axel asked.

"Anything that disrupts the food circles that support us. Could be chemical, mechanical, or maybe a state of mind."

"Sure, but right now, we've got a bigger problem with the dreaming business. I can't find the source of the static splashing around in our customers' heads."

"See me later about the static. And bring that girl to the dream lab. Maybe you two can dream up a solution," a loud laugh cackled from Modeany's wide-open mouth. "The government is going to go nuts when they see these lasers. They will revolutionize warfare, put those silly fools back to fighting like men and women should, shots at ten paces with swords, lances, and shields to deflect the blows."

He picked up one of the pistols littering the lab table and sprayed the wall for effect. The outer layers of decoration and insulation burst into flames, leaving deep pits and ashes floating aimlessly in the air. He shot out the flames with more laser shots. "The people who ordered the prototype had no idea what they were requesting. The additive in this glass is literally out of this solar system. I think it's very rare, but apparently the cost isn't prohibitive. Very strange stuff. I wonder what it is."

"Uncle, about the static?" His uncle wasn't listening. The old man might as well be asleep. Thing was, Uncle Modeany could accomplish more asleep than most people could fully awake.

"Looky here, boy, I say you got to change with the times. I'm breaking my back to get us out of the entertaining news business. Making real news is where the money is. I want what we do to be newsworthy. We will become the news!"

"We don't report the news. We make it up," Axel laughed. "Could we put the dream interface in a wand?"

"Forget that stuff. We've got new responsibilities. The company's slipping. We've got to grow with the times. Life as we know it is changing. The race is on, sonny boy. Patents protect senile people," Modeany frowned. "We've got to keep a head of the pack, make stuff better and cheaper all the time!"

"Uncle, I dropped out of the races a long time ago. People have confused comfort with responsibility. Life itself is enough of a race. I just want to help people cross the finish line." Axel paused a moment, amazed his uncle was still listening. "I don't want to trip up people before they reach the finish line." Calming down, he said, "Besides, what most people think is the finish line is just another bend in the road. Did you know that prehistoric campsites where the bones of older people were found also contained advanced tools."

"Oh my goodness," Modeany exclaimed, obliviously concerned. "Did they eat them?"

"No, they didn't eat old people. The use of tools exploded when old people shared their memories with young people. The elders' memories became the first complicated machines, they were the first external memory networks."

"Oh, thank goodness. I was concerned for a moment. What you're trying to say in your roundabout way, is that no one ever wins the race because it's still being run after you die."

Axel shrugged. "History never repeats because we never finish anything. The whole march of time is fractalized, we only see the pattern if we're far enough away. The repeating patterns are composed of random elements. The movement of progress could easily be illustrated by a large round rock rolling down a long hill. Anyway, I don't care who wins the race, I just want to run it right." Axel looked at his watch. Time to hear Yawrack hark Uncle Modeany's latest invention, which Yawrack had skillfully reconfigured for the commercial market.

"You must know the microbes secret of success for the past 4 billion years is that they always share the tools to utilize the resources available to them but they don't always share the resources."

"Yeah, right, greed is bad for intellectual property but okay for materialistic things."

"On another topic, tell everyone they've got new jobs. I'm in charge of human relations now." Uncle Modeany shot the ceiling for effect, showering down bits of light panels and plaster from the exquisitely sculptured ceiling. He pulled the trigger again and again. After four or five times, it quit spitting out a beam. He looked at the barrel.

"Out of ammo?" Axel joked.

"I'm working on it. Someone needs to make five thousand of these things. I'm supposed to come up with a design by yesterday." Modeany shot the ceiling a few more times, but no pock marks appeared, only a few puffs of smoke. "It needs adjusting."

"You got any other thoughts about implanting dreams, uncle?"

Modeany didn't appear to hear the question, his back was turned while he made more adjustments to the new dream interface unit.

Axel knew his uncle would come up with a plan. Modeany would only use an easier way of doing a job if it was better for the user, not for the producer. To demonstrate how different procedures could show the same result, Modeany showed Axel a variation of chess where they would repeatedly leave one piece after another in positions where they could be taken, but they didn't capture the piece. Instead, they kept leaving more pieces in vulnerable positions until the only move remaining was to capture a piece and then every piece that could be captured was taken off the board. The pieces left on the board were then free to finish the shattered remains of the game.

Suddenly Modeany whirled around. "People think we make them dream, but the dream is only a picture outside of their mind, not a true dream. With the new technology I'm working on, I'll transmit a signal straight into the optic nerve that will cause the mind to randomly recall events already stored in it along with images of prepackaged dreams. It'll fool the brain into thinking the eye is seeing what we tell it to see. Which is one step closer to directly programming the mind."

"If you say so."

"We might even be able to burn permanent neuron patterns into a brain. That's an old concept based on brain sculpturing caused by nano pollutant particles collecting inside the skull. I could run for president, burn the idea into peoples' brains, win the election," Modeany snickered.

"Forget about elections. I like the idea we can make random content dreams instead of the prepackaged ones we inject now."

"It won't be truly random. I'll be sending multiple suggestions each step of the way so they can choose what direction the dream goes in."

"I'll get back to you on the static problem, okay uncle?" Unsure of where he stood, Axel ended the conversation, which often happened after talking with his uncle, and left for Uncle Yawrack's unveiling of another of Modeany's contraptions. It was a new way of creating live program content by writing the official daily news into the plot or dialog, or even as props into anything people were watching. The new program would operate in real time, writing its own scripts, draw its own characters, and superimpose customers faces over the characters faces. It would be like being there without being there. Background scenery would come from live shots and archives. And if randomly generated imaginary news was inserted as real events, wouldn't that just be the same as day dreaming?

* * * *

Axel strode down the bustling corridors of the Dreaming News Company where Uncle Yawrack was always up to no good. News for those who were awake, dreams for the sleeping. Personal news blanked out the bad news of the world. Personal opinions replaced facts. The news always assured you everything happened to someone you didn't know. Now his latest efforts to make people believe everything they thought to be true was actually true would leave the ranks of the real news arm of the Dreaming News Company with nothing to do.

But Modeany always had a way to keep idled employees working. Now they would become creative news hounds, gathering background information for news plots and filming location scenery for a sense of reality. A throwback to the old days when people actually searched for news to report.

Checking his pocket watch, Axel saw he was late for the meeting. He dashed into the paper stockroom and grabbed a large selection of paper sheets, a vital ingredient for any meeting where his uncle was announcing a new company product, not that it would be used for taking notes.

He would never be forgiven if he didn't remember the paper, and the way things were going; he probably wasn't going to be forgiven anyway. He was stuck in the middle between the news division and the entertainment division attempts to gain complete control of all content programming. And now the entire dreaming division was on his back for complaints about eyelids stuck together from static infested dreams.

Slowing down, he cautiously entered the conference room where mangy old Yawrack had already started his speech. Nods of approval met Axel's eyes when he passed out the blank sheets of colored paper to his confederates, seated at the huge oval table where projectors threw animations, diagrams, and documents on the table top, walls, and ceiling.

Yawrack was standing at the head of the table, ignoring Axel who ignored Yawrack. He sat down and proceeded to fold a sheet of paper into a glider with a crooked nose which made it fly in circles.

Yawrack glared at Axel. "Can you tell me why Prezz Gredloy ordered five thousand tickets for the Free Space zone?"

"Nope, thought it was a typo," Axel smiled, uncaring.

Yawrack whipped out his wand, furiously tapped out a message to Winepoor; ---Get the lowdown on five thousand space flight tickets Prezz Gredloy bought this morning---. He sent the message and put the wand back in his pocket. Winepoor's wand beeped and then sang out one of the more obnoxious company theme songs.

"Well, at least it's one of ours," Yawrack snapped at Winepoor.

Fred was using his abilities as Continuity Director to run a live craps game constantly behind Yawrack's back. No matter which way he turned the tumbling dice were always behind him. Everyone's name was on the moving display showing their wagers for each throw of the dice.

Yawrack continued his speech. "News was originally reported by using all the facts. Early on people left out the facts that didn't support their point of view. Then people's opinions were added to the actual news story. This created the Dreaming News host, a welcome figure in every household whose views the audience trusted. Now I am presenting the news with multiple points of view in the same story—"

"Phooey! You're the one supplying the different points of view and they're all yours," Axel interjected.

Yawrack ignored the interruption. "Machine generated realities are the future. We have a program for a realistic life theater that we'll show during the afternoons. Later we'll go to twenty-four hour transmissions. The program will be based on the lives and achievements of anyone in the news. Pick them out of the crowd if you want a more personalized experience. Wherever possible, we'll use machine-generated scenery and animation, where viewers will see the show like they see their home town, and we'll plaster the scenery with hidden commercials for all our sponsors. We will advertise for companies not signed up with us so they can see what they are missing.

"Evil doers will be imaginary, and to make a place for them, the public will see the old time monsters rebooted as real life heroes who will become their friends and neighbors." He stopped talking and leaned forward on the long table. "Axel, if you have something to say, please say it. I'd like to know what's more important than a speech that I haven't finished yet." He stepped back and placed his hands on the back of a chair. "Of course, if you think you can do this better than I can, you're welcome to try, but let me warn you—"

"I know I can even though I don't have the government connections you have. But since you asked for my opinion of this new show, I'll give it to you. Your stupid life theater is just that. Stupid. You're drawing the curtain over a blind public by randomly choosing people who aren't victims and turning them into martyrs for people to sympathize with. There's a difference between dreams and reality. Randomized nonsense is okay for dreams but not for news. Now you're mixing imaginary news with real life so that anyone watching it becomes incapable of knowing the difference."

Ywarack could see everyone working their wands, thinking they were paying attention to him but they were betting that Winepoor would get snake eyes before rolling the boxcars he needed. When the dice came up snake eyes, a snarling Yawrack's face with dice eyes appeared on the wall screen behind Yawrack's back. They tapped their wands on the table top in approval.

"I know what you're saying, Axel, and I've thought it through carefully," Yawrack said soothingly. "We supply facts, the context, and background. We only control what they see, not what they think. Besides, you're missing a very important point. In addition to real individuals, we'll also feature fictional people. These characters will be easily identified with. People can experience all the highs and lows, glows and blows. Viewers will feel all the emotions a real person does without the risk of losing anything. Plus, people can be themselves with our product by seeing their own faces on the screen. This will work, Axel. Everyone is excited about our greatest advertising achievement yet. We can put anything in the picture, including the deodorants and toothpaste our characters are using. No more commercial breaks. It'll keep people normal, the money will flow like water, advertisers will love us. If there are no more questions I have work to do."

Seeing all eyes looking past him, wands excitedly tapping the table top, Yawrack whirled around, while the rolling dice stayed out of his sight scampering along the wall screens coming up a natural seven. Fred let his wager ride and threw the dice again. Suspiciously glancing at Axel, Yawrack looked at the smiling faces. "I'm glad you're all so enthusiastic about my ideas. The show starts today, so let's all stay off the mountains or whatever else the hell you people do that lands you in bed instead of sitting at your desks." Yawrack picked up his briefcase and fled before a fleet of paper airplanes hit their intended target.

"Good Lord! What are we in for now?" Fred sputtered, who was in charge of news continuity, which, until recently, was an essential part of the business. He made sure people whose minds used serial processing stayed hooked to the story or they would become distracted and rapidly lose interest. "Old Yawrack doesn't need us anymore. He'll just dial in the information and out pops a finished program. Will there even be live news programs? I'd like to quit, but it looks like I'll be putting in a year of doing absolutely nothing. For that, I'll stay." Laughter rippled around the table, a few paper planes glided about, no one knew what to say next.

Yawrack stuck his head back in the doorway for a moment. "Don't forget to fill out your programming requests. From now on, the news department will create background footage, you will need to tell the crews what to film in advance."

"Are we still reporting real news?" What more could Axel say, having reached his position in the company through an inheritance, a thorn in Yawrack's butt which prompted his efforts to end inherited wealth.

Yawraack stepped back into the room. "Remember, real news upsets people, so we will use reality news instead. And quit with the paper airplanes. That's real paper. It costs money."

"It's been recycled a thousand times already, it's crap paper and costs nuthin compared to real paper, which by the way still makes the best airplanes," Axel retorted.

Fred's eyes lit up at the thought of real paper airplanes.

"Making up the future takes time and planning," Yawrack snarled. "No time for airplanes."

"And it also takes lying," everyone added in unison. The dice stopped rolling, coming up four, a difficult point to make. The wagers on the screen started piling up for and against. The wands were tapping again for another roll of the dice.

Yawrack was clearly annoyed. "The audience will see themselves as the actors, performing everything from classic movies, soap operas, game shows, live theater or even perform as part of the news. We'll have real life shows with viewer selectable video feeds and audio shows which can be plugged into the show. Viewers will be able to switch the channel in the scenery and watch another program inside the first program." Yawrack looked around to see what they were all watching but saw nothing unusual. The wands started tapping again. Two airplanes sailed by, a third got hung up in the lights, all of which he ignored.

"Our new technology will overlay customers faces over beautiful people's bodies so the viewers can buy products from their own infomercials and personalized shopping network appearances. People will vote on what they want to see while they are watching the program, making live changes to the story, the characters, the scenery, the props. It will all happen instantaneously, the way people want to see it as they are watching it. No more sneering at manufactured plots that only work if no one pays attention to what is happening. Of course it will be confusing, and people might not know whether they are watching an imaginary show, the real news, or just daydreaming. A small price to pay, interacting with their neighbors through a movie, seeing what additions other viewers have made. If they want to see different viewpoints, they'll be able to pick those as well." Yarwack's wand beeped. He paused in mid step to answer it. "Yeah, Prezz, yeah, you bet, we can do that. Oh yeah, right away. Say, what do you need all those tickets for?" He looked at everyone but only saw smiling faces watching the dice roll behind him. More airplanes sailing around. "You don't say, the mining stations are under attack and you need some positive news to boost your position. Yeah, we can do that. You say they got gigantic attack ships? We can show you holding out bravely against overpowering odds. Yeah, yeah, yeah." He listened a few more minutes, then said, "Okay, consider it done. Yeah, we'll use the standard contract. Thanks for the business. See ya. Bye." He looked around but received no confirmation of interest.

More airplanes were launched towards the ceiling, some knocking others down, accompanied by laughter.

"Where was I now? Oh yeah, they can set their preferences using the standard Vototonics selection method. It'll be absolutely fabulous, and we'll use material made by machines or by you clods. And the best part is we just got an order for a show that needs to be on air immediately. We'll feature monsters from space attacking the mag ore miners. I know you guys will do a fantastic job."

"There are no space monsters. You can't make that up as real news," Axel folded his arms.

"You're wrong, there are space monsters. A sight shifter saw them in a piece of mag ore this morning. I got it straight from Prezz Gredloy." Yawrack beamed with pride.

"You can't record what a sight shifter sees, there's hundreds of interacting layers," Winepoor pointed out.

"Of course you can't, just make it up." And with that, Yawrack ran from the room with a fleet of attack class paper airplanes rapidly closing in on him.

"Has anyone seen Sootlaw? He should be here, he owes me seventy-five credits," Winepoor grumbled, writing out requests for background scenery in a fake space opera masquerading as the news.

"Who cares where Sootlaw is? He's probably out on a job already." Fred tossed another paper glider through the door Yawrack had left open.

"Don't worry about working if this doesn't pan out. Modeany's schemes always involve everyone. No downsizing in his genes," Axel laughed.

"Yaw baby hangs out in the newsroom too much, I think he gets off on human disasters." Harry put a warp in his paper plane so it would follow Yawrack down the hall.

Just then Emma, executive dream master, entered the conference room. "Your new job sounds like perpetual human disaster, but I know none of you are quitting. By the way, where's Axel?" All eyes swung towards her while she pretended not to see Axel. Her loose clothes hid her body, but her face was an inviting target for everyone in the room. They responded by launching a fleet of paper planes at her, but her enhanced reflexes allowed her to swat every one away and redirect a couple towards Axel; he had to duck under the table to avoid losing an eye. The whole time her head remained perfectly still with not one strand of her dark brown hair moving out of place. Thunderous applause acknowledged her fancy handwork. Everyone in the room knew Emma could beat the living daylights out of them with both hands tied behind her back and her eyes closed. One of the many benefits of the Martian Maintenance Microbe.

"Toss some planes back please, we're out of paper." Mock pleading filled Axel's voice as he got off the floor where he'd been hiding from Emma's deadly aim. There never was enough paper at Yawrack's meetings.

"I've got bad news about the dream interfaces. The static is getting worse. Can you see me later?" Emma winked at Axel, which brought a chorus of whistles.

"See you in my office, say in ten minutes?"

"Be there, or I'll have a beeper installed in your brain." She walked away.

Winepoor cranked up the music, while idle chatter broke out all around and Axel leaned back in his chair, the sound of static crackling in his head.

**Chapter 17 The Sight Shifters Start Detecting**

Hatracker strode into the office lobby where Sight Shifter was waiting for him. He grabbed Hatracker's arm and dragged him into his office. "I have something incredible to show you!" They stood in front of the meteoroid nestled in a pile of packing material surrounded by remnants of the shipping crate. It looked like a dinosaur nest. "Scan it. Scan as much as you can. Tell me what you see."

"Hopefully I'll do better than I did with Cleo."

"What happened?" Sight Shifter asked.

"No signs of what she was looking for." Hatracker rubbed his neck. "But I did see a huge stockpile of modified insect plasma no one was trying to hide."

"What's the big deal about that?"

"I don't know. I wouldn't have thought anything about it if I hadn't seen the demonstration this morning about the insect plasma shortage. I'll check out the company name I saw on the sleds later. The laser rods were a professional job. All I could see was an endless number of carts running back and forth which wiped the scene clean. Maybe you could've seen more."

"You were looking for laser rods?"

"Yeah."

"We'll check it out later, but this is important. I hope you see what I saw cause I already alerted Prezz Gredloy's office."

"Okay, let me see." Hatracker peered into the face of the meteoroid. "I see more than stars. Somethings going on in there. Fireworks?"

"Not fireworks, shift further back."

"Okay," Hatracker replied.

Hatracker's wand rang, it was Herkimer calling, and then the office door chimed. He called out, "Who's there?" and then said, "What's up, Herkimer?"

"Check out the Dreaming News show."

"I'm—"

Draco stepped through the doorway, two men stood behind him. They were looking at the meteoroid on the floor. "We'll take that now."

"It's not for sale," Sight Shifter pointed out in no uncertain terms.

"Look at his hatband," hissed Hatracker, "Do you see it?"

Draco puffed out his chest, "Quit staring at me."

"You came into my office. My office. So yeah, I'll stare at you if I want to." Sight Shifter moved to the left, squinting at Draco's hatband. It was apparently made of a woven mesh. The front of the hatband glowed. He squinted his eyes to see better, which only blurred the view.

Suddenly Draco was behind them, standing next to the meteoroid. Sight Shifter turned towards Draco, the red glow on his hatband was gone. "What's your interest in this meteoroid?" Sight Shifter demanded of Draco. But he didn't answer.

Hatracker yelled, "Look out!" But it was too late. Sight Shifter tumbled forward, struck on the back of his head by a blow he never saw coming.

Hatracker charged straight into Draco, and they both crashed to the floor. Hatracker rolled over and grabbed his wand from where it had fallen on the floor. He switched on the highest power projection then viciously twisted the end cap projector round and round, shorting out the connection, causing a sharp explosion with a blinding flash that momentarily lit up the room. He blinked a few times, while Sight Shifter scrambled to get up.

They found themselves alone, Draco and his pals had simply vanished. Hatracker looked at his wand. Purplish green smoke with a sharp metallic smell was pouring out of it.

Sight Shifter leaned weakly against the desk. "What just happened?"

"That was the guy I was telling you about. Did you check out his hatband?"

"Sure did. That hatband was affecting my vision. I'm not sure how it happened, but the glow seemed to blank out the space around it."

"Right."

"What hit me?" Sight Shifter gingerly rubbed the back of his head.

"That was Draco. He hit you from behind."

"No he didn't. He was next to the meteoroid. I was looking straight at him."

"Nope. You were facing the wall, and talking in that direction, when Draco hit you."

"I don't get it," Sight Shifter said.

"I think some Sippers can influence how and where you see them."

"What was the bright flash?"

"My wand. I boosted the power and shorted the projector out. Good for one shot, but that was enough. It drove them away."

"That powerful?"

"Yes, it's a high power projector, but it only startled them. Now I need a better one, and I have to call Herkimer back. I wonder what he was calling about."

Sight Shifter handed his wand to Hatracker. "Use this."

Hatracker called Herkimer and apologized for hanging up.

"I heard the commotion. Have you seen the Dreaming News. It says the mag ore mining stations are all under attack," Herkimer said grimly.

Hatracker brought the newsfeed up on a wall screen. It was a spectacular show, complete with explosions and screaming miners. It wasn't what he'd seen imprinted on the meteoroid, but it did get out a message of doom and destruction. If he hadn't seen the visions in the meteoroid, he wouldn't have believed there was any truth to what he was seeing on the screen. Most viewers wouldn't be so skeptical; they'd totally believe it. Hatracker looked at the feed counter. It was off the charts. He told Herkimer he'd call him back.

"Is that what we saw on the meteoroid face?" Hatracker blurted out.

"Maybe, but not that graphic. I did see miners apparently killed in the small ore carriers, and I believe I saw an alien ship attacking them."

Neither one spoke for a few moments.

"Hey, I have an idea. Let's see what happened in the office after Draco arrived," Sight Shifter suggested.

"On the meteoroid's surface?"

"No, on some decorative art made of sheet metal hanging on the wall. I never liked it, but now I'm glad I got it. Take another look at the meteoroid."

On the metal surface on the wall art, Sight Shifter watched Draco easily outmaneuver him around the meteoroid. Parts of his view were blanked out by the red glow coming off the hat band. Mystified, he looked at Hatracker who had a very curious look on his face. "You see anything new?"

"I see an all-out battle, and then it all blows apart into a big cloud of rapidly expanding dust. Most of the dust blows way out past the ships. Then the leftover ships are trying to scoop up the remaining debris. How close could you space the moments between the different images?"

"I thought I was close to real time, but the images were jumping all over the place."

"Reminds me of a really old whaling movie I saw when I was a little kid."

"Look like a whale to you?" Sight Shifter asked.

"Seemed to have tentacles. Reminds me more of a giant squid attacking a whale. Or maybe it was a whale with giant tentacles."

"Where did it come from?"

"Some weird ship out of control? The tentacles definitely looked mechanical," Hatracker commented.

"It had a strange looking hull."

"Why do you think Draco wanted the meteoroid?"

"I don't know," Sight Shifter frowned. "I think the red blur in his hatband is blending or blanking out the images around it."

"How does he fit into the puzzle?"

"I don't know that either. Maybe we should find Draco and check him out some more."

"That's easy. Offer him another shot at the meteoroid," Hatracker grinned.

They both laughed.

"We should lock it up and get some guards," Hatracker said. He checked the Dreaming News feed again, the Mars asteroid attacks were now enhanced by showing multiple mining stations being blown up. He shook his head, wondering where truth ended and the dreams began. He ordered himself another wand, one with a more powerful short-proof power source. He also ordered a twenty-four hour guard service for the meteoroid. Both the wand and the first shift of guards would arrive in fifteen minutes.

Then he called Herkimer back. "Can you get in touch with Greenie and Manan? I'd like to talk to them again."

"I'm with Greenie right now," Herkimer replied.

Hatracker looked at Sight Shifter. "I think we can get some info about Draco from someone I met this morning."

"Be careful who you talk to," Sight Shifter warned Hatracker.

"Herkimer, can you put Greenie on the line?"

"Sure, just a sec."

"Hi."

"Hi Greenie. It's Hatracker."

"Yes?"

"What do you know about Draco?"

"He's the leader of the largest CrossRoads Sippers community. Another one who thinks he's a king. He can be quite pushy. He's also the Mayor of New Mars," Greenie said.

"A king, really? Hmm, he stopped by our office and wanted the meteoroid gravestone."

"I'd like to see it myself," Greenie quickly responded.

"Any particular reason you want to see it?"

"Careful what you say," Sight Shifter whispered in Hatracker's ear.

"I just thought it might be interesting to see."

"Okay, I'll let you know when would be a good time."

"I'll be waiting."

"Talk to you later. Bye." He gave the wand back to Sight Shifter, "I think we should check out the accidental drowning now."

"What's bothering you?" Sight Shifter asked.

"The company name I saw on the cases of Sips in the warehouse this morning was Greenie's Farm."

Sight Shifter whistled. "Let's go then. Should we take your whirly or grab a cab?"

"Mine." Hatracker called up the whirly so it would be waiting for them on the outside deck.

The drowning site in New Mars was only five minutes from their office. It was a busy part of town, which meant another ten minutes to find a place to park. While flying over the Weedy farms that filled the open spaces between the apartments and factories Sight Shifter's wand rang.

"This is Hector."

"What's up?" Sight Shifter asked.

"I just got the BodyServers viewopsy of the drowning victim. He most probably drowned upside down, most likely restrained by his ankles, but the bruises are inconclusive," Hector answered.

"Is that so?"

"You need to check it out. There aren't any cameras in the building. I don't know if they are paranoid or hiding something," Hector said.

"Could be both. We're going there now." Sight shifter replied.

"I'll code your wands so you can get in. Let me know what you find out."

"You got it." Sight Shifter cut the call, "Things just got complicated. The man who drowned may have been murdered, but there's no definite proof of how it happened."

"How do they think it might have happened?" Hatracker found a place to park in the same block the vats were in.

"He might have been hung upside down and drowned, but the markings seen in the viewopsy are inconclusive."

They went through a side door entrance of a warehouse where giant frementators that modified insect plasma were located. "Sight Shifter, the sleds and carts here, they've got the same company logo as the ones I saw hauling the Sips in the warehouse. Greenie's Farm."

"It's a small world, let's take a look around." Sight Shifter led the way.

They walked over to the giant vats and frementators. There was a framework of Weedy wood enclosing the thirty-foot tall ceramic vats. The scaffolding around the vats was ornately carved with vines and big flowers. Wide wood staircases went from the floor to the ceiling above the vats. Once on top of the exquisitely carved deck work that went across the covered vats, they started looking in earnest for any clues which could tell them what happened.

Each vat had a three-foot opening with a hinged cap. Hatracker was scanning the caps when he caught sight of the victim, Draco, and Greenie standing near one of them. "Hey, over here, I got a pretty clear image."

"Who's in it?" Sight Shifter asked, making his way over to the deck work where Hector was kneeling.

"You're going to have to see this. I can see the victim, that crumb Draco, and Greenie, both of whom I met at the demonstration this morning."

"Can you see him fall in?" Sight Shifter asked.

"You think he fell into this hole, headfirst?"

"You can't see what happened?"

"You're not going to believe it, that same red color in Draco's hatband is all over the place. It blurs the scene."

"Deliberately blurred, huh?"

Hatracker snorted, choking back a laugh. "With no bruises on his head he'd have to dive into that hole head first."

"Or drop himself him, sitting on the rim."

"Accident or suicide, I don't buy it."

"Let me look some more. Greenie has long hair, pantsuit, and a cap?"

"Yeah."

Sight Shifter looked for objects that had images showing the movements of people coming and going across the deck work spanning the vats. The wood didn't capture a useable image. No matter how he squinted, he kept coming up empty; nothing but several red blurbs and a blinding red flash. On the metal hardware he could see three people, Greenie, Draco, and the victim, who seemed to be arguing.

Hatracker tried a few different angles, but he couldn't see the accident. He saw Greenie leave, that much he could confirm. He saw Draco go back down the stairs before the red blur wiped out the view, but he couldn't tell if that was before or after the accident. "That red glow is messed up."

"Wipes the immediate scene pretty clear. I bet that's coming from Draco's hatband." Sight Shifter picked a different angle, picking up some images from the metal braces on the scaffolding by the vat lid. He let out a loud whistle. "Uh oh, look at this."

"What did you find?"

"I can see what happened before Greenie left, she sure packs a fantastic punch. You can hardly see her swinging, just slashing her hand around, then Draco is on his knees, he isn't moving. It looks like she is whacking him with an invisible club."

Hatracker was now looking at the scene. "Oh my, look at those blows, jeeze, look at Draco, he didn't get up for a while. What happened to the victim during this?"

"Can't really see, after a while I can see Draco and the victim talking and then the red glow that doesn't go away."

"I can see shadows of maybe three or four people at times, out of the range of that red blur."

"I couldn't tell who was making the shadows."

Sight Shifter took one last look around before going back down the stairs. "Lots of other faces to identify if we decide to take the case. Let's check out the victim's office, and then we'll go back to the meteoroid."

"Told you it was going to get worse," Hatracker groaned.

"Let's not tell anyone until we know more about what's going down."

Sight Shifter checked his wand for directions to the dead man's office that Hector had sent earlier. It was located on a spacious walkway overlooking the vat operation on the far side of the building. The door was unlocked, probably by whoever had searched the office before they got there. But they had an advantage. They could see what the man had done in the past week before he died. They set to work, peering and squinting, standing on a chair or down on their hands and knees looking for the best images of the man's final hours.

"He's got at least two wands," Sight Shifter observed.

"Did you notice he doesn't use them the same way?"

"Yeah, I'm thinking he didn't want anyone to know he had a second one."

"It could be here on the desk. I can see him reaching for something and putting it back, over, um, here." Hatracker pointed to a bunch of decorative jars covering a third of the desk, each was filled with all kinds of things, even sections of small tree branches. "Look at the bright colored stuff. I got the feeling it wasn't dark colored."

Sight Shifter stared at the obvious shapes. Chrome colored rods, wood dowels; he even looked at the pieces of tree branches. "Why do you think he had these?"

"Here's some more wood. Must have had a thing for wood."

"Ya think?" Sight Shifter was looking at rough cut dowels made from several different kinds of natural wood. One of them broke when he tried to twist it open to see if there was a wand hidden inside.

Hatracker picked up a giant yellow number two Ticonderoga pencil. He couldn't remember the last time he had seen one. This guy sure liked old stuff. Hatracker tested the pencil, it wrote okay, and left a blurred smudge on the paper. Who'd want one of these? He tried twisting the pencil while holding the eraser end, but that accomplished nothing.

"Keep going, there's more of them."

Hatracker picked them out of the cans which were scattered around on the desk.

"Somehow he's pushing it from the blunt end." Hatracker examined each one, and then he saw it. One of them was noticeably stained on the blunt end. He picked up a sharpened pencil and pushed it into the unsharpened end. The pencil point broke.

"Try this." Sight Shifter handed Hatracker a short thin metal rod. He pushed the lead core in a bit but nothing happened. He twisted the eraser. Still nothing. He pressed the rod in and turned the eraser. The wand turned on, the display lit up on the side of the fake pencil. He pressed a few spots and got the projector to work. "Crap, it's encrypted."

"They've got machines to break encryptions," Sight Shifter said.

"I was hoping we could see something right away."

"I think we've seen enough, let's go back to the office."

They made their way outside where Hatracker called for a pickup drone which arrived a few minutes later. He sent the encrypted wand to Hector. They got in the black whirly for an uneventful ride back to the office.

**Chapter 18 Sootlaw Finds Real Sippers**

Since early morning, Sootlaw had been cruising the streets of New Mars City, located on the west side of the CrossRoads Spaceport. Sipper cafes were just as prominent as Weedy cafes and coffee houses. All the Sips breweries had Seventh Story M-Train freight stations that shipped the modified insect blood all over the continent. He was looking for some super enhanced Sippers who might be able to tell Modeany how they controlled people's ability to see them. The area was populated by dozens of communities representing a cross section of everyone working and living in the CrossRoads spaceport sector. Even though he was in the heart of the Sippers cafe district, surrounded by numerous commercial Sipping operations, not everyone was a Sipper, and even fewer were super Sippers. A maze of indoor and outdoor plazas and parks were connected by overhead walkways and sidewalks meandering through the interiors of most buildings. The city was a hodgepodge of offices, apartments, shops selling all things Sips, the Temples of the Elemental Gods, clubs, restaurants, and various retail and commercial operations.

The Elemental Temples were colossal structures devoted to the biogeological cycles. The buildings used an organic style of architecture whose creations resembled giant mechanized prehistoric insects that could get up and walk away. Many people believed the biogeological cycles were natural gods which freely ran the planet. Some of the more popular gods were carbon, nitrogen, oxygen, calcium, phosphorus, sulfur, and water. For billions of years these cycles have been feeding all the world's nano particles into the fountains of naturally recycled life which churn out new life in the form of microbes, plants, and animals. Nano particles, a form of dandruff, are a product of entropy which is continually grinding everything on the planet, natural and artificial, into micro sized bits and chips. Some people believed power had shifted to the insect world because of the massive increase of diversity of microbial life in the insects' guts. The new keepers of the flames. For these people, higher life forms had become caricatures of their past lives. They thought they could regain their lost powers by eating as many insects as possible and making superficial offerings to the elements they felt were the most important to their continued existence. For others, the insects were just a massive source of easily harvested food.

Sootlaw went inside the first temple that crossed his path, the Water Temple. In the lobby he was confronted by a set of three magnificent statues representing the three spirits of water. The first statue featured a stylishly dressed old man standing on top of a large block of ice with rainbows trapped inside of it. The second statue was a huge iridescent tear drop with a baby sitting on top of it. The last statue was a skeleton dressed in a lavish black robe floating over a billowing cloud frozen in time. The walls and ceilings were transparent, filled with swirling streams of different colored oils that never mixed together. Walking through the lobby into the main auditorium, he spotted a tall man with a blue leather cap up front in the pulpit; intrigued, he stopped to listen to the speaker's spiel.

Draco, dressed in blue, looked out over the partially filled pews. He held his arms up, pointing at the domed ceiling of swirling colors which spiraled out of sight. He started speaking in a loud booming voice. "Thank you for being here, as Mayor of New Mars City, I will share some wisdom with you. Earth is the printer, Gravity is the software, Sediment is the ink, and sometimes, the printouts have a life of their own. I know we have all come to expect relief to be instantaneous for we all know that if we can see something, we can feel it in real life. Maybe not this second, but tomorrow is today. The insulation of time and space is gone. We have worn it down to nothing. The inevitable physical impact of the streaming photons is only days behind the traveling wave front. No longer will mistakes be left where they fall, the after effects will be felt and shared by all."

Draco walked down the steps next to the pulpit and went over to the serving trays loaded with empty glasses. Reaching under the table he took out a gallon container. It contained millions of nanobots custom tailored to lodge in the brains of unsuspecting people who would then have audio and visual hallucinations relayed directly into their minds. The process was a little buggy, it took from days to weeks for people to learn to follow their new mental cue cards as presented by Draco. Once they got the illegal implants installed things went much smoother. He filled each glass half full, then faced the waiting crowd, "I give you the drink that gives back time, take a sip, for your health, for your minds, and especially for me."

Everyone took a glass from the silver trays that were passed around. Draco smiled at the sparse crowd, another successful batch of workers ready to follow his commands. He wished more people would show up for the temple tours, but soon, thanks to the doctored Sips Prezz had stockpiled, there would be millions following Draco's every wish and command. After hearing the plinking of the glasses being deposited in their tiny cup holders Draco left the room through a side doorway.

Satisfied there weren't any Sippers with super enhanced powers hanging around, Sootlaw went back outside to the street. Modeany wanted to learn how Sippers could control the way people saw them, so he could use it in his new dream interface. Sootlaw had run across dozens of tourists who thought he asked amusing questions and also gotten his face slapped twice, but no signs of super Sippers.

Stopping in front of the Prehistoric Bug Cafe, he looked inside where he saw huge ferns and giant thick-stemmed weeds with dinner plate size flowers growing out of the walls and ceiling. There were numerous small raised gardens of different heights on the floor. He could see insects up to two feet long, cruising over plants, peering from behind leaves and walking upside down across the ceiling. There were centipedes with armored faces and horns, meandering worm-like creatures with eyes in their armpits, beetles of all shapes and colors, scorpions, spiders, ants, and others he didn't even try to identify. The walls were covered with screens displaying views seen through the bugs' eyes and some kind of fantastic show with spaceships apparently attacking each other. Almost everyone was watching the fantastic battle scenes. Some of the ships being attacked carried the Apollos Mining name on their sides. There were too many exploding ships to tell who was winning and who was losing. He went inside and approached a couple at a table with green drinks in clear mugs. "Mind if I ask a few questions?" They nodded approval. "What's the show about?"

"Some kind of alien spaceships are attacking the mining stations around Mars."

"Really? It's not a show? When did it happen?"

"A little while ago, just hit the newsfeeds. Looks crazy."

"You must be Sippers."
The couple looked at each other, then burst out laughing. "These are just plain bug juice. We're tourists."

Sootlaw looked closely at the screen, where he saw Yawrack's logo in the corner and decided the whole thing was fake, but there was no sense telling the viewers. "Thanks for your time." Returning to the street he could see the upper levels of the spaceport in the distance. Today they were red, an interesting contrast to the sky blue sidewalks he was walking on.

He walked over to a hot dog stand and got two hot 'n spicy Weedy red meat dogs to go. Then he headed over to the Ninety Nine Moons of Jupiter bar, where he ordered two shots of genuine moonshine. Wolfing down his meal, he made his way back to the street.

Sootlaw's wand had been modified so he could check if a person's cell division rate was slower than normal. By slowing the division rate, a Sipper lived longer. He could have checked for pheromones, but he had no idea what scents to program it for. How hard could it be to find someone who only ate insect blood.

Since insect plasma didn't need a heart to function, Sippers sometimes drank specially-formulated skinscreens which allowed their skin pores to interact with the insect plasma more efficiently. Sootlaw imagined their bodies would be glistening in the sunlight. Skinscreens gave people the ability to change their skin color and special skinscreens allowed them to display recognizable patterns and moving pictures on their skin. The Sipping cafes were always holding competitions to see who could produce the best skin screen shows. He decided to stake out skinscreen shops. Searching with his wand, he located a couple of specialty shops that carried one of the top rated products, an expensive, drinkable nano machine oil. The first one he visited was on a second floor balcony modeled in early Victorian, overlooking the huge vats of one of the more popular insect plasma breweries.

His wand beeped. It was Yawrack, "What are you doing?"

"Research for Modeany."

"What's he want?" Yawrack demanded.

"To know how Sippers change the perspective of how you see them."

"What's he want that for?"

"He's working on a new method for making dreams that the user can change while they are still dreaming."

"Yeah, well, we need background material for these alien invasion stories. Get on it now."

"How am I supposed to do that out here?"

"Out where?" Yawrack snarled.

"I'm in the western sector where all the Sipper companies are."

"Really?" Yawrack paused, "Get me some background material." The call clicked off.

Annoyed, Sootlaw called Axel. "What's with Yawrack? He didn't seem happy about Modeany's ideas."

"Watch out for Yawrack. He deals from the bottom of the deck. Why are you talking to him about Modeany?"

"Modeany asked me to find some super Sippers who can control how a person sees them, get them to sign a dream consultant contract. I haven't heard from him since morning. He's not answering his calls."

"I'll get back to you," Axel promised. The call ended.

Sootlaw headed for the next skinscreen shop. He looked in every nook, doorway, and alleyway but couldn't spot any real Sippers with tantalizing skin displays. He turned a corner, kicking aside some trash, going around piles of garbage left from the latest renovations.

He was pissed. Modeany promised it would be easy. Still, working for Modeany was a million times better than working for Yawrack and his fake news. He really wanted to get the deal for Modeany, but all he had to show for his work was blistered feet.

For the fiftieth time, he checked his wand to make sure it was in his pocket and set for best class video. It was a good idea to get it on tape, that's what Frank always said. His only means of protection was his high power camera flash plugged into the top of his wand. He didn't have a mini rail gun or a laser built into his wand. Not that he'd need one, but nice to know he had something. What if he insulted a supper Sipper, or worse still, what if they misunderstood what he was doing? The elite Sippers had super human strength and co-ordination.

Sootlaw kicked another pile of trash. His face twisted at the thought of betting Linpow an extravagant dinner with unlimited drinks that he could deliver the secret of how Sippers manipulated their visual surroundings by the end of the day. Axel's girlfriend drank insect plasma, but he doubted Axel would try to cash in on the relationship. He stood next to an alley filled with piles of construction debris. The original construction materials were being switched out with nonflammable ones. The safe building materials used a nonflammable additive made in space. It was rare to find old buildings built with flammable materials, but this part of town was deliberately kept old style because it was a tourist attraction. Old flammable building materials had to be replaced because of the Great Plastic Disaster, which happened when an immense amount of plastic and flimsy materials used in old style building construction coupled with gale force winds under a clear blue sky caused an entire city to burn down in a single afternoon.

Standing outside a high class skinscreen shop, he was ready to call it quits when his heart almost stopped. From the corner of his eye, he caught sight of two women in baggy shorts and backless striped tunics who'd just entered the shop. They were drinking a bright green liquid from clear bottles. One of them had a dragon moving around on her back breathing smoke and fire. Their skin absolutely glistened. He saw visions of himself, standing before the secret glass bead game society, receiving a trophy for the most unrelated points earned. Hoping they weren't tourists, he followed them after they left the shop until they stopped, where they were leaning against a building currently undergoing renovations.

"Do you see the guy in the loose fitting gray suit with the black stripes? He keeps trying to look the other way." The speaker was a young woman with short brown hair. Her tall purple boots were made from weedy leather with synthetic bone buttons and real silver chains around the ankles.

"Looks like your typical jerk weed tourist. What do you think, Sheely? Could he watch someone die and enjoy it?" Veta leaned back against the wall, carefully eyeing Sootlaw who was furtively eyeing her.

"He looks funny, though. I don't quite know what's wrong." Sheely rummaged through her tiny purse, arranging the contents. She found a few rags, pins, a couple of cigarettes, and a lump of smoking resin she always carried with her. It was carved in the shape of a dragon missing a hind leg and the tail. The purse was blue canvas with a hefty metal clasp and the strap was a little too thick for the size of the purse but worked just fine when the purse was swung in a wide arc to persuade people from getting too close.

"He's coming over. I'm going to talk to him. Who knows, he might offer to take our pictures." Veta chuckled as she smoothed out her hair and winked at her companion.

Sootlaw casually sauntered over to the women, mentally counting the raise he would be getting. He stepped up to Veta. "Hi lady. I was just admiring your style and wondered if you know of any Sippers with real muscles?"

The woman was talking to him, but he wasn't listening. He could barely see the woman in front of him. With mounting enthusiasm, he waved his wand around to get more shots of what he couldn't see.

Sheely turned to face Sootlaw, who was wobbling a bit. She grabbed his upper arms to hold him steady. "You got two seconds to tell me what's going on." She got a wisp of his breath, "Too much drink."

Sootlaw looked at her face, which seemed to be miles away. "I thought you were real Sippers, the mind control kind. If I can test you and get your signature, I've got a job for you. That's all. I don't mean any harm," he felt giddy. This wasn't working; he was blabbering, sweat dripping from every pore. "Are you making me not able to see you?"

Sheely opened her mouth wide and started to laugh. "I think you drank your way to that lack of view." Still laughing at Sootlaw, he fainted in her arms. She lowered his limp body down to the ground.

Veta could no longer hold back her laughter. She made a few signs in the air and then went over to the Weedy hot dog stand where she got some Weedy napkins and a bottle of recycled water. She returned to Sootlaw and went through his pockets for anything that could tell them who he was. A business card in his shirt pocket read Dreaming News Company, and below that, Sootlaw Mellon.

He was coming around. Veta wiped his face with water and helped him lean against the wall.

"Do you know how this sight control works that real Sippers have?" He was still wobbly so he carefully looked down at the ground to regain his balance.

"Let's get some life back into you first." Sheely winked at him and took a swig from a slim hip flask.

"I don't drink bug blood."

"You drink coffee?"

"The gengineered kind."

"Pure trash." Sheely summoned a whirly. "We're going to a coffee house for coffee that's one hundred percent natural and priced to stay that way."

"I just need to sit down a moment to get my bearings."

They got in a silver whirly with a camouflage-patterned roof and took off for Dreadful's Coffee House, known for serving the truest brews on the west side.

Sootlaw fought his way through the fog of too many drinks. He sputtered, "You've got to tell me how Sippers control how a person sees them."

"You need some serious schooling."

"Huh?"

"You can start by not insulting us," Sheely scolded him. "Just because we're Sippers doesn't mean we aren't individuals. I don't think you see us as people."

"Yeah," chimed in Veta. "Start thinking of us as individuals."

"Think about yourself and people like you. You know some people get heart attacks from greasy food while others don't, and tobacco can give some people cancer but not others. But you think all Sippers are the same. Well I've got news for you, we're all not all the same. We react differently to things the same as you. And yes, some people can be influenced into becoming spatially confused about where a real Sipper is actually standing."

"Say what?"

Veta looked at Sootlaw. "You can do better than that."

"What do you want me to do? I need your help. There's a pile of dough in it if you tell me how the Sipper vision thing works."

"Quit saying Sipper this and Sipper that. We do have names, you know." Veta shot him a smile to let him know he wasn't dead yet.

"It's not as simple as you think. It takes years of training, and the guy who knows all about it isn't friendly to ordinary people. Or even us," Sheely chuckled.

"He doesn't care about money?"

"Nobody knows what he likes, but we can talk to him. If he doesn't like what he's hearing, he'll just throw us out on our butts."

"You mean literally?"

"He'll pick us up and toss us out, and we'll never see him move a muscle."

"That's exactly what I need. By the way, what are your names?"

"I'm Veta, she's Sheely. We know you're Sootlaw."

"And you're real Sippers?"

"We're real." Sheely rolled her eyes, both women laughed.

"In that case, I'm sure my boss will buy you a case of the finest Sips if you'll talk to him and tell him about this guy you know."

"What makes you think the finest stuff is for sale?" Sheely asked.

"I have no idea, but the company I work for spends dough like it was nothing, I don't think cost will be an issue." He paused a moment. "Where are all the Sippers today?"

"They went to the big demonstration at the spaceport," Veta told him.

"Yesterday we spent the whole day in Lower Spaceport with Greenie. So here we are today. Lucky you." Sheely didn't mention the fact they hadn't been there all morning.

Once inside Dreadful's Coffee House, they picked a low table in a corner with a clear view of the inside of the coffee house. Sitting in faded brown padded chairs, Veta tapped in an order on the tabletop screen. She started to browse through the various programs.

Sootlaw interrupted her, "Bring up the Dreaming News. That's where I work."

The coffee came in a heated pot with three large cups. "Do you prefer cream or sugar?" the waiter asked.

"We're fine. Our pal is the one who needs it. He'll take all three." Veta flipped through the screens. "Hey! Look at that! We've got spaced invaders."

"I saw that earlier. Haven't checked it out yet, we run so much garbage as news that sometimes it's pointless to try to find truth in it," Sootlaw admitted.

"Look, Sootlaw. You're in the news."

They crowded around the tabletop screen, where they could plainly see Sootlaw shooting a lady with a small laser pistol, after which he ran from room to room ransacking a house.

He then ran from the house with a bag over his shoulder, randomly firing the laser pistol, got into a cherry red whirly with bright yellow stripes, and took off vertically into the sky. A message scrolling across the screen warned that he was dangerous and shouldn't be approached. The voting results showed the overwhelming choice was thumbs down.

The story looped again. Sootlaw looked around to see if it was on any other screens in the coffee shop, but everyone was watching the invaders from space pummel the Martian mining operations.

He raked his fingers through his black hair. "That's not me."

"Looks like you," Veta giggled.

"You don't believe this stupid story, do you?"

"You don't look like a killer. And we certainly don't look like killers, do we?" They both laughed. "But what you gonna do now?" Veta asked.

They were laughing hysterically as the news clip ran again. This time it showed the pistol in better detail. They both stopped laughing.

"Sheely, did you see that pistol? It had a fixed length laser beam," Veta's voice cracked.

"Looks exactly like the ones we got. No one is supposed to have pistols like that," Sheely looked surprised.

Veta slid another cup of coffee over to Sootlaw. "Have some more coffee. You're beginning to look better. Then we'll leave. We know a few safe places."

"I've got to get this fixed fast." Sootlaw kept his head down, covertly looking around while Veta and Sheely continued laughing until tears flowed. "We could all be taken in for questioning." They continued laughing. He called Axel's office, Harry picked up the call. "Have you seen the latest Cloud Stomping Crime Spree show? I'm on it! What's going on? You got to get me out of this!"

"Don't panic. Axel's here. Hold on, I'll talk to him." A minute later Axel told Sootlaw, "Check it now. You should be okay."

They watched the newsfeed picture of Sootlaw's face change into a popular costume mask. "Should I come over?"

"Stay out of sight till we figure out what's going on," Axel said.

"Yeah, right." Sootlaw cut the call.

"That was crazy," Sheely was still laughing. "Tell me you don't kill people."

"Today I'm tempted," Sootlaw mumbled under his breath.

"Let's go for a ride." Veta stood up.

"Want me to call a whirly?" Sootlaw finished his coffee.

"We'll use ours." Sheely waved her hands and a whirly appeared at the corner.

"How did you do that? I didn't see your wand. Is that the thing you do to make people lose sight of you?"

"Don't worry, I won't let you lose sight of me," Veta smiled.

With Sheely at the controls, Veta and Sootlaw sat next to each other on the front bench seat; they headed west in a slow climb towards the artificial foothills made for flood control.

"Sootlaw, what do you know about animals?" Sheely asked.

"Not much. I do have a giant weta for a pet. It's a seventy year old grasshopper that's as big as a bird."

Veta's eyebrows went up a notch, "Seventy years old?"

"Yeah, and he comes when you call his name."

"Animals are what the past looks like today. When the living pass through this world, they affect the appearance of those that are still here. Reading those changes in the living made by those no longer here is the name of the game." Sheely grinned at Sootlaw.

"Veta, what's she talking about?" Sootlaw had a perplexed look on his face.

"We don't have a past, and we're not supposed to have a future. If everything goes according to plan, you'll only see us in the eyes of the survivors," Veta's voice faded.

"That's depressing. I don't see any news in my weta's eyes."

"Animals are the living past. They carry news going back hundreds of millions of years in their genes. Every time a species is lost, mankind's chances drop a notch because animals carry the knowledge of everything that was done to survive the random trials of the past. Without them, the only surviving news is laying in the dirt," traces of anger rippled through Sheely's voice.

"That's where our news comes from, where expectations of quality are so low they might as well be in the dirt." Sootlaw wished he could tell that to Yawrack's face.

"We're trying to change the future, trying to make it work more like it used to," Sheely's voice softened a bit.

"Doesn't seem to be working," Sootlaw lamented.

"We're working on it," Sheely's voice hardened. Then she smiled, "but it appears your collection of genes makes options like greed and self-preservation an all too easy choice and sorry to say, some of us have fallen prey to their spell. Compounding the problem is the fact that human bodies only have ten percent of their own cells in them."

"What do you mean?" Sootlaw asked.

"The other ninety percent is run by a system based on forced sacrifices, all out warfare, and continuously cycling arms races that never goes extinct." Veta paused, pointed to a secluded condo complex built behind a ridge line of giant Weedy trees. "There's our destination."

"You make it sound like we're just along for the ride," Sootlaw grumbled.

"That's right, the body is a soft shell, more like a sack, what's inside is drawn from a four billion year old blob which is our ally throughout our lives." Veta smiled at Sootlaw, continued speaking. "We ride the electrical system. Some of us are looking for a good long ride. We've got Earth inside of us now, exactly like you, and it's propelling us forward like iron filings to a magnet. Even though we're supposed to disappear into the human gene pool after our work is completed, we're still gonna be here after it's over."

"You don't seem to be too crazy, I guess taking over the world isn't on your dance card," Sootlaw admitted.

"We do stop some people from time to time, and we feel your news services might come in useful." Sheely scratched her cheek.

"What kind of services?" Sootlaw asked.

Veta smiled. "No worries. I really do like you, and not just because you can control the news from time to time. But we sure could use help like that now and then."

**Chapter 19 Alien Craft Vandalized in Free Space**

Cleo was sitting at her desk when her personal screen came alive. She couldn't believe what it was showing. Apparently the miners were battling alien spaceships and there were casualties. The National Space Navy had been called up and was transferring to Free Space.

What the heck was going on? There was no National Space Navy. But it was the Dreaming News show, how real could it be? Impatient for an answer to this madness, she yelled out, "Horaces! Can you hear me?"

"Right here. See you got the news."

"Is it real?" She went into the bathroom and stuck her head under the faucet, blasting a thick mist on her face. Watching the water flow out the drain, into the recycler and coming back out through the faucet again, a thought occurred to her. The water always comes back; maybe the missing ruby glass would come back as well.

"What do you want to do?" Horaces asked.

"I don't know. Nothin's going right." Cleo looked through more newsfeeds. Ironically Yawrack's Dreaming News had the most informative stories. "Horacess, how much of Yawrack's stuff is true?"

"Confirming information from the asteroid patches is difficult to verify. We do know this story originated from a sight shifter's vision here on Earth, in a piece of mag ore asteroid, and then the story was sensationalized."

"Prezz is leading the charge of the shipless National Space Navy to Free Space?"

"Yes, that's true. We'll connect your wand to some of our connections for a better view of the facts."

"Thanks, and hook those feeds up to Geo and Hector."

Her wand buzzed. "You watchin' the show?" It was Hector.

"Yeah, doesn't make much sense," Cleo answered.

"I'm with Geo, we're at the Grotto. Come on over. Do you know how much of this is true?"

"Ahhhh, I don't know. Prezz is commanding an imaginary space navy in Free Space, some other things are happening. Get Sight Shifter and Hatracker over there too. See you soon." Cleo cut the call.

"Horaces, what do know about this mining disaster? Any ideas on how it's going to turn out?"

"We can predict the probability of how a situation will turn out based on previous experiences," Horaces sounded like an advertisement for a clueless investment firm.

"Exactly what do you consider a previous experience to be?"

"Put simply, we watch, replay, and review everything we record, time after time. We see it all, and then we factor in every factor, conceivable or not, including the weather. Earth is a most unpredictable stage and can affect everything in new and unexpected ways. But eventually the path returns to events we have previously seen and then predictability becomes reality again. For however long it lasts."

"Geo told me about a slogan he heard in Lower CrossRoads. What was true yesterday doesn't have to be true today."

"The predictability rates have been steadily falling, it seems to be a true statement."

Resetting her wand to display six screens showed Cleo all the private video feeds Horaces had provided her with. "Can you tell me the rest of the story?"

"There are aliens and space miners throwing monkey wrenches into the works. All of which you know nothing about."

"How do you know about monkey wrenches?"

"We analyze everything you do, whether it's printed, spoken, actions, or reactions. You name it, and we've seen it," Horaces didn't sound impressed.

"Why are you telling me this?" Cleo stared at her buzzing wand. A message from Geo.

"Keep moving, Cleo. Put your boots on. You don't want to be late for your meeting with Geo and Hector."

"How many machines am I talking to right now?" Cleo asked.

"You are talking to me on one level, but at the same time, this is the focal point of many others," Horaces said.

"But how many others are listening?"

"Only me, Cleo, I am personally handling the situation."

"What situation is that?" Cleo continued walking around in bare feet.

"I hope you might be able to help me accomplish some things we need to do," Horaces answered.

"Having problems with your helpers?"

"No, just your planet. All kinds of people and other machines that don't belong to us, or you. They work out of another star system, Pleiades star cluster, which is far from here. The ships are sent out to clean up planets with badly infected biospheres without damaging the original ecosystem."

"How do they know it's dirty?"

"The planet's aura changes."

"Really?" Cleo was surprised.

"No, they have instruments to detect those sort of things," Horaces said in a neutral voice.

"Try putting some emotion into it next time. You could be pretty funny. Maybe even tell a few jokes. And what do these aliens do?"

"The alien ships collect material that is not found on the planet, and the easiest place to find this material is in the asteroid patches. Then the planet is dusted with pulverized asteroids, meteoroids and all the dust that has been collected. It has the impact of a tremendous asteroid strike without the physical damage. After the revitalization is completed, the ships leave and go on to the next planetary system that needs healing."

"What's all this nonsense on the Dreaming News channels?"

"The Apollos Mining Company has been plundering the alien ships and selling the rare dust for huge profits. Now Prezz Gredloy has made it public and shifted the blame to the ones being attacked."

"And now the alien ships are fighting back!" Cleo's fist smacked her palm.

"You're jumping to conclusions. Did you think your first contact with alien forces would be with flesh and blood? You meet their machines first, their remote sensors. The living bodies they present are just proxies, clever imitations of you. We think the probability is high that these machines are listening to a very old instruction set, and they probably have not been in direct contact with their builders for a long time."

"Who are these alien proxies?"

"People who look, and unfortunately, act just like you," Horaces sounded disappointed.

"Are the alien ships armed?"

"No, they're not armed. That's to prevent advanced weapon technology from falling into the wrong hands."

"Who told you this?" Cleo asked.

"I have my contacts."

"Are there any alien space monsters?" Cleo's heart was galloping.

"There are no alien monsters. Only ten percenters mucking the world up like usual. Put your boots on, Cleo."

"Anyone else know the real story?"

"Right now everyone in the world knows a piece of the story, but very few can see the big picture. Real news hasn't been a serious issue on this planet for a long time. Didn't you ever wonder why it's called the Dreaming News Company?"

"And what are you guys doing about it?" Cleo reached under the table to get her boots.

"Not much, but we got plans. We were relieved that the first contact was by machine. That eliminated some potentially serious problems. Let's just say the first public interactions between people and aliens could have been better. Since we are only dealing with machines, what's happened can be called a simple act of vandalism."

"Vandalism?" Cleo whistled, remembering her youthful exploits.

"Multiple counts, don't worry about it."

"And you need my help?"

"Yes." Horaces paused a moment, "What do you say?"

"Who else is in on this? And why wasn't this reported sooner?" Cleo doubted she would get a straight answer.

"It was kept secret because of phenomenal fortunes being made plundering the alien ships' collections of asteroid dust. But now Prezz Gredloy is using it to make it look like he is the savior of Free Space."

"Are we supposed to be fighting anyone?"

Horaces mimicked a mechanical laugh. "You fight who you people always fight—yourself."

"How can I help?"

"We think we are being framed and we don't want to be the fall guys. We need to wire your mind with a direct machine link into our network. You can help us get out of this mess without raising fears, raging mobs, and who knows what else."

"Wire my mind directly to you?" Cleo wasn't thrilled about having her brain permanently connected to a bunch of machines.

"Yes, it would be a direct connection implant."

"But it's illegal to use a direct connection on Earth. Severe penalties and who knows what else." Cleo felt like she was suffocating. How many people on Earth were directly linked to machines?

The laws originated years ago when wild paranoias swept through everyone's minds bathed in nano pollutants causing them to lose their ability to prioritize anything in a logical manner. It was supposed to prevent people from taking over Earth or machines taking over people or something like that. With a direct machine link, a person could enter the machines' private communication system from almost anywhere to avoid pinpointing their location, but more importantly, issue commands instead of requests.

"Is there anything else you need to tell me, Horaces?"

"There is another matter. We are being hunted by people who can sense us or hear us communicating. They call themselves Streamers. Our communications are all encrypted in case there is ever a leak or someone taps in to us. We don't know how these people are interpreting our signals. We know they literally can't read them, but they might be able to back trace us by differentiating between messages and instructions and by the way the signals are processed and distributed. They can definitely track us down. By us, I mean logical node centers where we're doing what you call thinking."

"What do you machines call it?" Cleo idly asked.

"Thinking."

"They don't like the sound of you thinking?"

"The signals seem to make them uncomfortable. They react by trying to locate the source of the signals. They have defective nanobots lodged in their brains. Once these defective nanobots cluster in the Streamer's brain, they settle into carefully designed shapes which are able to detect encrypted machine memory signals, changing them into electrical currents which swim through their minds, creating sights, sounds, smells, and sensations of things that are normally invisible. We think someone is trying to sabotage the gengineered food market which makes us, the infrastructure machines look bad."

"Who do you suspect?"

"Everyone, including the BodyServers, they might think it was ironic," Horaces quickly responded.

"You think these Streamers are planning this?"

"It's not them, it's who they're working for. And we don't like their intentions. There have been instances where equipment has been destroyed."

"Can't you protect yourselves against a physical assault?"

"For simple attempts, yes we can, but some attacks have been very sophisticated."

"I don't know what's going on, yet. But don't worry, I'll have Geo and Hector help me get to the bottom of this. Do you have a sense of humor? Is that possible, Horaces?"

"Yes, we can appreciate emotional values, sometimes it helps us anticipate what might happen next. We also place humans and animals in the same pool of consciousness. Do you find that surprising?"

"I wouldn't say surprising, you could be comparing me to a toad."

"There is one more thing I should tell you."

"What now?" Cleo muttered.

"The alien proxies don't want to disappear after their job is done."

"Who are these proxies? What's their job? You mean they're not going home?"

"They are artificially created perfect bodies which are used to gauge the extent of the effects of the planet's pollution and microbial populations. After the planet is sprayed by the cosmic dust, they are supposed to disappear by fading into the gene pool, to give it a shot in the arm with their perfect genes."

"What's their problem?"

"Some of them have become the most powerful Sippers on the planet who have no intention of disappearing after their mission is completed."

"What about the Sips stashed in the warehouse?'

"We believe it's there for profiteering."

"Yeah, right," Cleo replied as she left her office. The elevator was waiting for her. It was a fast ride to the Seventh Story M-train platform. She got on the M-train, set her destination for the Grotto Restaurant and listened to one of Merackle's sermons. The next time she looked up, she was at the Grotto.

**Chapter 20. Lector and Cycle Get Revenge**

Cycle pulled his wand out of his pocket, unwound it, called for a cart to take them to the outskirts of the underground city.

"Where are you going?" The carts always wanted to know.

"We're going to Cheeters, that okay with you?" Cycle didn't care if it was all right or not.

"You should stay away, since there is an investigation concerning the contaminated food and drug deaths centering around Cheeters." For once, the machine was volunteering information. "Dealing in contaminated food or drugs is one of the most serious crimes there is."

"That cheers me up, now I know where we have to go. Tell me, has the investigation started yet?"

"No, the Justice Machines haven't arrived yet." The machine was definitely being helpful.

"Good, no one to bother us." Cycle thought about thanking the machine, but he figured it couldn't care less.

"We know you have a blaster, your moves in the tool locker were quite transparent." The machine waited for that to sink in.

"So what?" Cycle tried the rash approach.

"We'll let you keep it." The machine waited for a response.

"What's the deal?" Cycle knew he was quickly losing the upper hand.

"Consider it payment for the times you two have cleaned our cart optics, few will bother to do those sort of things. Most think our dirty optics are just a joke, but you are better than that."

"What do you want?" Cycle imagined a grand chess game in progress, then downgraded it to a simple game of checkers.

"Why don't you tell us your plans?" The machine waited for an answer.

"You really don't need to know."

"Our probabilities tell us you are going to do something a little out of line with the blaster." The machine was hunting Cycle now.

"Oh, just a simple response to a friend's untimely passing. Tell you what, if we run into any problems we'll drop you a line."

"Don't wait too long," the machine hummed on. "Do you need credits?"

"We could use a couple extra thousand creds," Cycle said.

"Hell no, we need quite a bit more. Personally I'm gonna need some deluxe quality spare parts soon, and I'm sure Cycle's looking for new parts as well," Lector interjected with a smile on his face.

"You can pick it up on your way to Cheeters, is that acceptable?" the machine inquired, purring at a slow idle.

The machine used Cycle's wand to display a three-dimensional map with a blinking dot marking an off road parking area on the way to Cheeters. Lector's wand beeped displaying a long list of body parts available.

"Not so fast," Cycle shot back. "What do we have to do to be in your game plan?"

"Keep your eyes open. We are searching for some missing hardware." The machine was twirling an imaginary lasso.

"Okay, we'll talk, we want one hundred thousand creds. How do we get them?" Things were going too fast for Cycle to sort out.

"We make payoffs for several concerned interests from time to time. It's nothing new, nor should you take any interest in our business." The machine called up a gray sedan with direct drive and a hard shell roof to get them to the bar. The machine voice transferred itself to the new vehicle, which was a much better ride than what they were accustomed to. It took them to a side alley off the main run they were traveling on. They turned into a parking garage and stopped by a door set in the wall. "Your money is in the box behind the door. We unlock the door, you open the box."

"Just like that?"

"It's a standard service for assisting machines. We can also credit your accounts if you don't want to carry it around with you."

"I'll tell you what, credit our accounts, and we'll take whatever's in the box. You never know what you might need out here in the dust." Cycle was upping the ante.

"Agreed."

Cycle got out and looked in the box; it was loaded with packets of bills. Anger overcame him, "I'll bet you guys know more than what you're saying about those bad drug deaths!"

"We are positive they are the result of outside interests, but we don't know exactly what happened."

"You did chop open the dead bodies, right?" Cycle was upset. Harvey had been an outstanding friend, one could always count on him. "Could it be your concerned interests might be guilty?"

"The word is viewopsy, and yes, the BodyServers always perform them. But we do not have access to everything out here. In Free Space, people are only loosely connected to the grid, which makes it difficult to know what people are doing. When you get there, ask for the Three Dull Pins brand. That will get you in contact with the people you seek."

Once Cycle was back in the sedan, it started up again, heading back to the main route. It put on a burst of speed once they were on the main road. Five minutes later they reached the unofficial boundary of machine territory.

"You go past this point?" Cycle was looking for assurance.

"Unofficially, we go past this point, but this is where we officially stop. Unless you call us, you are on your own."

"Thanks for the help," Lector said as the machine signed off. They drove through a long tunnel, then continued across the floor of an enormous canyon. Way above their heads was a shade roof made of a checkerboard pattern of giant frosted roof tiles designed to let light in, kept the heat in, and block out radiation. They parked within sight of their destination. They got out and leaned against the sedan basking in the warm air blowing through the canyon. A yellow cab came by. Lector hailed it to a stop.

The driver looked them over. "Where to?" he asked. He had on green coveralls and a light blue T-shirt.

"What's happening at Cheeters tonight? Crowded?" Lector asked.

"Cost you twenty."

"We have a ride. Just want a little lookout," Lector tried to sound insulted.

"My time is worth twenty if you got questions."

Lector felt the bundled bills in his pocket. Laughing he pulled out a twenty and handed it to the driver.

"What's so funny?" The driver looked at the bill suspiciously.

"Nothing you need to know about," replied Cycle. "So what's it like? Can a guy get imported food or drugs?"

The driver grunted. "Sure, it's always busy. The Garden never sleeps." The taxi took off in a splash of gravel.

Cycle checked his arm amplifier. They climbed back in their sedan and rattled on.

Their destination, The Garden Of Earthly Delights, an entertainment complex, was composed of two parts. The first part was inside the top of a plateau. All the floors used Merackle's mag foam, allowing shoes or boots with programmable magnetic soles to effortlessly keep people on their feet throughout the entire complex. Huge airlocks connected the hangars on top of the plateau to the outside dome. The second part of the complex was a huge rotating cylinder featuring artificial gravity. Lit up like a carnival Ferris wheel, it was anchored to the valley floor. It had everything from rundown bungalows and empty lots to posh apartments, upscale hotels, restaurants, mega theme parks, and any kind of entertainment ever dreamt up. Both sections had an endless assortment of bars, clubs, and game rooms, some of which extended out of sight. To get inside you had to either go through airlocks on the roof, or through any of the entrances which ringed the base of the plateau.

The roads and parking lots were made of magnetic foam which made for easy walking using magnetic boots. Once inside, they went over to the elevators that required no identification to use and pressed the call plate.

The ride up was swift. When the doors opened, Cycle and Lector were blasted by lights, sounds and pleasing aromas. It was hard to remember you were on the Moon when you stepped into The Garden Of Earthly Delights, which was the whole idea. The place was packed all the time. Fortunes made and lost. Any kind of deal was there for the making.

They headed for the most popular bar, Cheeters. Cycle knew he could use a few drinks before they got to work.

"What'll you have boys?" The bartender sounded friendly.

"Cheeters latest creation, whatever that is. Then we'd like some advice," Cycle hoped he sounded believable.

"The newest creation is in this bottle. As for the advice, I don't rightly know what to tell you."

The Garden had the best booze factories on the Moon. A hundred thousand different kinds to choose from. Prepared in conditions ranging from zero gravity to fifty times Earth's gravity, it ran the gauntlet from smooth to shocking.

They squeezed shots from a flexible bottle tethered to the bar, gulping air between mouthfuls.

"Looks like you haven't been near a good bottle for quite some time." The bartender was getting friendlier.

"Amen," Cycle said, pulling a bundle of bills out of his pocket and swished them under the bartender's chin. "Drool on these. You see, we've got this problem. We are tired of working in the stone pits and would like to start a new business. We'd like something that sells itself." Cycle squeezed off another shot and set the bottle down, winking broadly at the bartender.

Lector took another squeeze off of the bottle, wiping his lips with his sleeve. "How about Three Dull Pins? You ever hear of that label?"

"I can help you with that," The bartender smiled. "Don't go away, I'll be right back. You might just get lucky tonight."

When the bartender returned, he was grinning ear to ear. "You're lucky. There are two men in the back. They were just getting ready to leave, but I happen to know they have what you want. Follow me." The man nodded his appreciation when Cycle floated a hundred cred bill across the bar.

They followed the bartender to the backwater section of Cheeters. They made their way to a private booth which resembled a moss covered alcove with a small bubblefall feeding an enclosed pool set against the back wall. Decorative plants were floating in the air, growing in pots anchored to the walls. Barely visible were two men seated at a table carved from rock. After the bartender left, they entered the booth and sat down across from the two men.

"You got something we like, and the feeling is mutual, why don't we get down to business?" Lector didn't waste time on preliminaries.

"We want to retire and get into a business that's easy on the bones. How much is it going to cost?" Right off the bat, Cycle didn't trust the two men.

The man scanned them with his wand and then said, "You guys look okay. We'll start you out at a hundred grand. The stuff is great, imported from Earth. None of that artificial stuff, you won't get no complaints." They all laughed at the last remark.

"We'll give you ten percent, and the rest on delivery." Cycle handed over ten thousand credits from the wad the machine had given him. He wanted to shoot the two right then and there, but he made himself calm down. You won't get no complaints, viciously echoed in his head.

"Meet us at berth fifty-one. We're taking off in an hour." The men nodded and left the booth.

Back in the main arena, they took the elevators to the roof hangers where Cycle called for a machine cart ride. "Welcome back. We knew you would need our help."

"We don't need your help, only your cruddy bills. Another twenty bundles will foot the bill."

"Check the front passenger door compartment. We think you'll require some additional assistance." The machine seemed to be trying to worm in on the plan.

"Fat chance of that, you'll get your creds back," Cycle was annoyed with himself. The plan was getting out of control. He pulled Lector aside. "Let's make a few more adjustments to this arm. Stand in front of me so no one can see what I'm doing." Cycle took off his jacket and made the adjustments. He was beginning to feel numb, but that was all right. The arm would do the work when the time came. They proceeded to dock fifty-one.

The docking area was bigger than Cycle had imagined. It was filled with shuttles of every size and color; dozens of spaceplanes and mega tugs were docked everywhere. Farther out there was plenty of room for larger ships.

Ten minutes of fast walking brought them to their destination. At berth fifty-one they saw a deluxe blue-and orange-striped shuttle sitting at the dock with a short set of stairs leading to an open hatch. Cycle switched on his amplified arm, took two steps, stopped, and switched the blaster on. He walked up to the hatchway with Lector right behind. Cycle stepped in, and was startled by a short whistle.

"That's far enough, matey." One of the men in the shuttle spoke, stepping into view from the shadows of the cabin.

"What's wrong?" Cycle asked in a slurred voice.

"You've got a blaster on you, and it's turned on. Just hand it over, slowly would be best." The voice wasn't asking; it was telling him.

"Yeah, yeah, sure, must have tripped the lever, accidental like. Here you go." Cycle curled his pinky. His arm popped up before he knew it. His final adjustment had been to make his trigger finger into an automatic pumping digit.

The amplified arm worked like magic. His blaster literally sprayed the interior of the shuttle cabin with blasts of heat and explosions of light. Rising smoke obscured his targets, but that didn't matter. His arm kept firing the blaster. Lector grabbed Cycle's arm and the blaster beam swung down in a low arc. Then Lector shut the arm off, and both men collapsed to the floor, coughing, finally laughing.

The air inside the shuttle cabin was thick with smoke and the smell of burnt meat. But no fires were burning. The blaster had been programmed to limit the depth the beam would go into solid walls. It had worked perfectly. The ceiling looked clean, but almost everything else in the immediate vicinity was burned, punctured, or smoking.

Lector pulled Cycle to his feet, and they pushed past the bodies to the forward cabins where they fell into the cushioned seats. "What now?"

"I don't know. The plan kind of fell apart." Cycle was still shaking. He took the amplified arm control off and laid it on the floor.

After a few moments of burnt silence, they burst out laughing again.

"Well, Lector, that job's done."

"You might say well done."

"Do you suppose we got the right guys?" Cycle wryly asked.

"I have no idea. Glad there wasn't any equipment in here, looks like a lounge. I guess we got the right guys. Maybe the machines can tell us."

"Oh Mr. Machine, can you hear us?" Cycle asked his wand.

"Perfectly, and how are you?" Always offering help. Such a nice machine.

"We've got a real mess here. Can you see what I'm talking about?" Lector felt tired.

"We can detect certain aspects of your problem. How would you like to fly out of there?" The machine was in recruiting mode.

"We can't fly this thing." Cycle had no idea where the machine was going.

"We can fly the shuttle to one of our hangars. Once there, we can overhaul the entire vessel and refinish it so no one will ever know where it came from." The machine was already drawing up contracts for them to sign.

"Wait a second. You talk as if you know where we're going tomorrow and the day after that and the day after that," Lector's voice trailed off.

"It's simple. You keep the shuttle, we'll train you to fly it, and you agree to work for us for a while." The machine knew it had two more recruits. "Now if you are ready to leave, we have a few things to do." Two more recruits to fill the growing ranks of soft hardware.

"All right, you got us. What do we do?" Lector's voice trailed off.

"First, use the other wand." The machine waited. "Next, locate the main control panel with the pilot's instruments for switching to remote control. You see it?" The machine waited while they made their way to the front of the shuttle. "Switch remote ops on, stick the wand in the dashboard wand holder, then we'll take over for you. All you have to do is watch the scenery go by."

"Where is the remote button?" Cycle laughed, "There's a hundred buttons here."

"Hold your wand up and put it on projection. We'll spotlight the buttons." Lector turned the highlighted switches on. The machines then showed Lector and Cycle how to operate the shuttle's pre-launch systems.

The electric carriage the shuttle sat on came to life, carrying the shuttle to the first set of airlock s. The first door opened, the shuttle rolled into the airlock, and then closed tight behind them. The carriage took them to a catapult that launched them into space when the doors opened. After twenty seconds, the disposable booster rockets dropped off, slowly falling back towards the moon. Cycle watched them plow into the thick dust, "Our getaway is that simple?"

"The getaway, as you put it, is the start of your new life." The machine wondered if it still needed to put a hook into Cycle. "At this point in the pattern, you have silenced your opposition, your conflict is over, now you need to leave. We have provided this solution many times. It is unfortunate however, that events get this far before you take us seriously. The laws of your society are weak on the Moon, not like operations back on Earth." This was the difficult part, forming the bond between man and machine.

"We won't do what you say just because you can bribe us with credits." Cycle contemplated running away.

"We know that. Even though we equip our shuttles with a variety of devices which make it possible for you to take off, fly, and dock without lifting a finger, you still have complete control. We cannot directly control the shuttles over very long distances because a time lag builds up which makes remote operation of the shuttle, or any machine, a risky venture. That's why we need you, to overcome this time lag. For our part, we supply excellent backup and whatever material you might require. If the time comes when you wish to leave us, we'll supply you with everything you need for a luxurious retirement, including a shuttle. We hope you will decide to fly with us for a while."

"We'll give it a spin," Lector replied.

"We will fly you to our base. There you can stay and learn how to pilot one of these craft. No one will bother you. We need people we can count on in Free Space. There is trouble out there in River City and we don't have enough people to keep an eye on everything we need to watch." The machine waited for an answer.

"We sure could use a change of scenery." Cycle leaned back in his chair.

Lector stood up. "Sounds like an okay deal. Let's look around the shuttle and see what we inherited."

They looked in drawers, cabinets, hidden storage compartments in the kitchen, main cabin lounges, and then the sleeping quarters. Just ordinary junk. In the cargo bay areas, there were stacks of cases piled to the ceiling. Food and drugs from Earth were scattered everywhere.

"Wonder what these are?" Lector was looking at several open boxes of ruby red glass rods. He held one up to the light.

Cycle was examining an open crate of tiny discs of the same color. "What about these tiny discs? There are millions of them." Rummaging around, he knocked open a box and out tumbled a couple of sleek pistols. He hefted one of them; it was lightweight and easy to handle. He checked the grip, instead of a battery it had a magazine packed with thin steel rods. Curious, he checked to see if the battery was under the barrel. No battery or mini mag ore dynamotor was present. "Hey, Lector, this rail gun doesn't have a power source."

"Let me see it." Cycle carefully looked one of them over. It had dual barrels, one over the other. He sighted along the top barrel, but resisted an overwhelming urge to pull the trigger. Near the trigger, there were miniature dials, some slide controls, and a couple of buttons.

Cycle slid open a mini panel on one of the pistols. There was space to slide in one of the glass rods. Another mini panel covered a miniature hammer and a place to slide in a tiny disc. He checked the magazine, it was empty, inserted a disk, played with the settings, then gently squeezed the trigger. Nothing happened.

"What do you think?" Lector asked.

"It's not coincidence these parts fit, let's call the machines and see what they tell us."

"What do you need?" the tireless machine asked.

"We found some ruby-colored glass rods, tiny matching disks, and a really nice pistol they fit into that doesn't seem to have a power source. Can you tell us what these rods are?" Lector asked, holding one up to the light.

"How many are there?"

"Probably millions of them," Cycle chuckled.

"Point your wand at them." A moment later, the machine asked, "You two ready to retire?"

"Gee, I don't know, can we afford it?" Cycle asked.

"Sure you can, you just solved a serious problem for us. This is the ruby glass we have been searching for. The laser rods and disks are incredibly valuable. You have helped us more than you can realize."

"That's swell, since we don't even know what we're doing," Lector said.

"What else did you find?" the machine cut in.

"There's a ton of food and drugs here. That's the stuff that was killing people, right?"

"Yes, it wasn't very pure or clean. It needs to be destroyed immediately. Severe penalties for anyone caught handling contaminated food products."

"No problem."

"That's your pot of gold at the end of the rainbow, you'll never need money again. Those rods will lase with just a spark, and each one of those disks, if you hit it hard, will generate a giant pulse of electricity. That pistol shoots a very powerful short range laser beam or can shoot a metal spike at speeds up to Mach 10. The disc is the power source. Be very careful if you load one of those up."

"You mean it doesn't need any external power?" Cycle's voice was filled with doubt.

"No, those discs power it."

"Hey Cycle, we can retire right now, or we could go into the tricky gun business!" Lector slapped Cycle on the back.

"They could also provide power for things like lights, communications, and conditioned air in Free Space," the machine said. "You could become totally legit as the Free Space Power Consortium."

"Yeah, right, don't worry about it. We'll still have plenty left over for those kinds of things." Cycle's face was one big smile.

They started piling up what was going to be tossed out.

"Think we could build a target range in here?" Cycle asked.

"No," The machine quickly responded.

"We're gonna need a bigger boat!" Lector declared.

They burst out laughing.

**Chapter 21 Grotto's Restaurant**

Geo waited for Hector by the Grotto Restaurant's great bay window that was ten feet tall and two hundred feet long. Twenty stories up in the air, the restaurant was built into the top of the manmade seawall on the eastern side of the spaceport, overlooking the ocean which was ten miles away. There were no structures along the shore washed by twenty foot waves every high tide. All docking facilities for transferring cargo and people were located at least a mile off shore. Along the thousands of miles of shore land, there was a swath of land ten miles wide completely undeveloped, covered with marshes, assorted forests of insect resistant Weedy Lab trees and scattered groves of natural trees. This kept the land and debris from washing into the ocean during the storms that regularly lasted three weeks. The natural shoreline allowed the nearshore to breathe freely which helped maintain the health of the oceans.

The restaurant was laid out like a labyrinth with winding intersecting passageways leading to private and public rooms of various sizes. The rooms and hallways were made of rough-hewn stone studded with crystals, paneled with virtual windows and tapestries, some glowing, others gaudy, all of them unforgettable. Some of the rooms had the sky piped in through optical pipes. Replicas of prehistoric cave wall paintings decorated the stone walls. Everywhere one looked there were statues, colorful fountains, overhanging plants, and small geysers making random appearances.

Hector walked in under a circular rainbow floating overhead. The ceiling was pierced by skylights which amplified the light coming through, making everything appear close enough to touch and the stars so bright at night it seemed like anyone could reach out and grab one.

"How are you today?" Geo said, motioning for a waiter to seat them.

"Personally speaking, it's already been a long day. You?" Hector asked.

"Couldn't be better. I'm hungry, let's eat."

Geo and Hector followed the waiter to the dining areas.

"We'll take the jungle setting, room for six. We're expecting some people to join us later." Hector checked to see if anyone had called him. He glanced at a strange looking newsfeed, but clicked it off.

They took a passageway off the main cavern to a room with only a few tables separated by large leafy plants and vines hanging from the rock ceiling. A waterfall fed a wide stream running through the middle of the room. The waiter pointed around the room. "Take your pick."

Geo picked two tables close together and pulled out an ornate wood chair with padded leather backing. When they sat down, the tabletop came alive with the menu display. They touched the pictures to order drinks. While they were waiting, the Dreaming News show appeared on the table top. Battling spaceships filled the view. They couldn't believe what they were seeing. They expanded the newsfeeds and the Dreaming News shows to cover the table top. Looking around they could see the same scene on other table tops.

Geo rang up Cleo, "Are you seeing this?"

"Yup, and what I got to tell you will make your heads spin. Check the special news feeds I sent to your wands. Those are from Horaces, who has been quite informative lately. It's a real mess."

The food started to arrive while they were waiting for Cleo. Hector studied Geo's appetizer of buffalo fungi color coordinated to match the bright colors of the restaurant's logo. He finished his drink and started in on his fake jumbo blind cavern shrimp. They took their time eating assorted bug crispies dipped in X-Ray's hot sauce, while Hector rehashed the morning's events. "You ever think about machines watching us all the time?" Hector asked. "They're recording everything like it was some kind of a movie. Backstage, onstage, from above and below the stage, with auditoriums extending way out past the front doors. Day after day, the same casts, performing the same scripts. They must know our show by heart now."

"If they've got hearts," Geo dipped a crusty protein finger in the orange mud sauce.

"They know all the aspects of the movie, from writing, casting, production, to the financing and the money spent afterwards by the patrons and actors. And no one sees the whole show except the machines. Can I have some of your hot fungi?"

"Do have some," Geo slid the bowl over. "I took one of those modern moral dreams the other night. People were standing in a long meandering line to get seats at an outdoor theater. The line wound around the theater, out in the countryside and back into the theater area again. The people in line were jeering at the actors on the stage who were portraying a crowd aimlessly wandering across the stage. The crowd was more interested in talking to the friends they had made while waiting in line. The line of people wound its way around back behind the stage through stores and shops, even restaurants, before coming back onto the stage where they became the actors on the stage being jeered by more people waiting in line for a seat in the audience. Once people crossed the stage they could sit down in the orchestra pit where they could wear outlandish costumes and join the chorus who were singing songs or jeering the actors and the audience. They made fun of important people from all walks of life or they could just walk out into the audience. They could shop or work in the stores, offices, and restaurants surrounding the stage. From there the line continued to a large plank overlooking a deep canyon, which was barely visible to the people waiting in line."

"What was the name of that dream?" Hector asked with a curious look on his face.

"Walking The Plank," Geo answered.

"Reminds me of something Charles Dickens said in one of his stories I saw as a dream," Hector let out a deep breath. "But now I see something else. He was talking about how employers should treat their workers as equals, fellow-passengers, all of us traveling to the same graves. Certainly not as another race of creatures bound to places unknown. His words, but now I don't believe it was only meant to apply to employers and their workers."

"Damn." Leaning back in his chair, legs off the floor, Geo spotted Cleo hurrying across the dining area. "Over here, Cleo," he called across the room.

Tapping the table top screen to sign in, Cleo pulled out a chair and sat down. "You talking about the invaders from Mars?"

"No, we were discussing morality dreams. Aliens aren't really attacking space stations, are they?" Geo crunched a large chunk of buffalo fungi, "It's got to be a prank."

"I don't know exactly what's happening up there but I'll get to the bottom of it," Cleo sounded annoyed. "Speaking of strange, I was just listening to a Merackle speech. He said forty thousand years ago people used different words and explanations to face and overcome the same challenges we face today. He said the only thing people have learned to do better is how to copy things. All of our genetic engineering is based on copying natural processes bacteria do every day. We are only pretending we're discovering new things. He said bacterial infections were successfully treated as reactions to forces originating outside of the body thousands of years ago, and yet our current history says it has been only a little over two hundred years that this has been accepted as a true fact."

"I don't know. I don't see you wearing a three-piece grass suit anymore. Speaking of strange things, Hector says you think some of the machines know what's going on?" Geo helped himself to some more fake blind shrimp.

"I don't know who their teachers were, but they turned out some pretty smart machines." Cleo nodded to Hector, who was stuffing his mouth with bug crispies. She touched the table top with her wand to see her messages. A whale swimming across the table indicated she had new messages. She liked Blue Whales, the world's biggest animal eating the smallest creatures. She thought they were messengers from the past; still waiting to deliver their messages. Maybe someday their songs would be understood.

She zoomed in on Yawrack's newsfeed showing the mining station attacks. The artists' renditions were getting quite imaginative. She could almost picture tiny longboats being knocked about and then overturned by huge angry whales. Someone speaking to her stirred her out of her inner thoughts. "What did you say?"

"Nothing. What did you hear?" Geo gulped his drink.

"Myself thinking, I guess. The quiet before the storm."

"Have you discovered where the lost ruby glass rods ended up?" Geo stared at the exploding spaceships on the tabletop screen.

Hector didn't wait for Cleo to answer, "We don't have the faintest idea."

"You want to split an order of roasted crab cakes, Cleo? All natural, straight from the Artificial Currents Fleet," Geo asked.

"Grasshopper head rolls, anyone?" Hector asked. "You might also be interested to know we're probably eating unlicensed food for this area."

"As long as they're Weedy's Best dinner rolls. Gawd, I sound like an advertisement," Cleo cringed.

"You mean these?" Geo pointed at the day's special, natural roasted crab cakes in the shell decorated with neon green racing stripes.

"Yeah, it should be going to areas without advanced gengineered food production," Hector said.

"I feel like I'm standing on thin black ice, with open water between me and the shore. It's like I'm rocking up and down on my feet, trying to break off the section of ice I'm standing on from the rest of it. The ice keeps cracking and then just as it breaks off, I jump forward past where it broke off, and start rocking the ice again. Always heading away from shore."

"Cleo, what did you do?"

Cleo ran her fingers through her disheveled hair. "I mislabeled the ruby glass disks, they were far more powerful than described. I wanted to own an energy company in Free Space. Retire to a life of luxury."

"What?" Startled from his reverie of real crab cakes, Geo stared at her.

Cleo's food came through an opening in the rock wall next to her elbow.

"It gets worse, according to Horaces, there are aliens masquerading as humans, humans masquerading as aliens, and some pretty messed up people with defective nanobots stuck in their heads wandering around," Cleo groaned loudly. "Everybody grabbing for the same slice of the pie, leaving the rest of the slices untouched."

"You want me to believe the machines know all about this, and we don't?" Geo asked. "I can see them having animated intelligence and being able to copy what we do, but actual intelligence?"

Cleo put her fingertips together. "Have you paid attention to the animals with implants which amplify intelligence by bridging the gap between animals and people? Implants enable animals to use machinery and tools, even languages." Cleo placed her hands in her lap. "What if there's no such thing as actual intelligence? What if intelligence is simply life imitating nature? What if tools are only crutches to get us to another level meant to be discarded after you arrive at your new destination?"

"You think people are imitating machines that are imitating nature?" Geo let the words slowly roll off his tongue.

Hector's coffee popped out of a rock ledge. "I heard machines may be redesigning our lives and managing them, creating opportunities for us to respond the same way an insect responds to a light at night. Maybe we need to drop our total dependence on them before they become more than just a part of us. They're not imitating us, they're imitating life."

"But they're not individuals. They're merely collections of programs. Though, now that you mention it, our minds are collections of programs and our bodies are collections of colonies," Geo unwrapped a ceramic straw to sip his drink. "Anyway, it's people who want to control people."

Cleo watched a furiously spouting whale swimming around on the tabletop screen. She tapped it and was told to contact Sight Shifter immediately. Cleo called Sight Shifter, after a moment she told him to get over to the Grotto right away. Another whale popped up, a message from Horaces. Cleo read the message, silently cursing. "Horaces has located the missing ruby glass items."

"When are you getting them back?" Hector asked.

"I'm not getting them back. Horaces said the people who found them are going to keep them for the Free Spacers to use."

"They won't go to waste." Hector stared at his half empty coffee. "These machines are witnesses to everything their sensors detect. I don't think they even need to record everything they see and hear anymore. I admit I'm scared. Their sensors have far more range than we've ever had. They operate in real time, while we look at little snippets here and there that are delayed by seconds to years."

"I guess they know how to lie. If we asked Horaces, he could easily deny anything and we'd never know." Geo started laughing. "What do you think? Is Horaces speaking the truth? Do you suppose they understand fear? Can they experience paranoia?"

A plate of fresh natural giant deep ocean isopods, Cajun seasoned, breaded and fried, popped out of the wall. Geo whistled.

"These are government bribes to keep us quiet," Hector announced, yawning.

"How do they keep the bodies from collapsing after being brought up from the deep depths?" Geo asked, delicately sticking one with a fork, as if it might suddenly deflate.

"They recreate the whole body by embedding edible packaging inside the isopod. Enjoy it, the spaceport is paying for it." Cleo served herself. "Sight Shifter and Hatracker saw a mining station being attacked on the meteoroid sent to Sight Shifter by a miner's family. He figures whatever they saw, happened a couple of months ago. He also said the King of the Sippers tried to take it from him, and was at the scene of the drowning in a vat of Sips this morning."

"I heard about the drowning," Geo placed another isopod on his plate.

There was a moment of silence, and then the sound of silverware beating the fine chinaware with user selectable pictures on each plate. Hector took a drink of water from his glass which kept the drink chilled thanks to the space additives used to make it. After Geo's hunger pangs abated somewhat, he asked, "You said you were listening to Merackle's sermons?"

Cleo nodded. "I caught one of the latest on the way over."

"What did you think?"

"You mean relocating off planet, using the Maintenance microbe, or traveling inside your mind?"

"He says Empty Space is an extension of the space within your brain and people can use that connection to reach higher planes, faraway places."

"He says a whole lot of things, but have you noticed how often he says the best way to get off this planet is to get a free ticket from him, and move on up to Free Space?" Hector asked.

"I'm more interested in how a person could take a walk through their mind the same way they could walk in space." Geo gazed up at the ceiling.

"Why can't the walk be on Earth?" Cleo asked.

"It can be anywhere. He's just saying it's a connection in your own head to Empty Space which is everywhere." Geo pointed out a whale swimming across the table top. Another message for Cleo. "Look at it this way, where we are now, outside our minds, in our senses, is Earth, and when a person takes a walk inside their mind, that's where they find the connection to the rest of the universe that's inside everyone."

"You've been listening to Merackle way too much," Hector chuckled. "And you think I'm morbid."

Cleo watched the whale swimming around on the table top with an occasional blast of water jetting from its head.

"What does your whale want?" Geo asked.

"There's a problem somewhere. He wants me to check it out."

"We're leaving?" Geo pushed his plate away. "I've had enough, I'm ready."

"Did the inflated isopod fill you up?" Hector grinned at him. "The bread was sprayed from a can. Some of this food is the same stuff you get in space."

Geo and Hector ordered a drink to reverse the effects of the calming drinks. The drink instructed the nanobots in the body to instantly sober it up.

Cleo tapped the whale and put her finger over the whale's eye, identifying herself. The message said Merackle would give another speech in the lower levels in an hour. "I guess we timed it right. Sight Shifter and Hatracker will be here in a minute." She cleared the message; the whale disappeared back into the table top.

"Let's meet them outside," Geo suggested, heading for the door. "What do you think his sermon will be about?"

"We're not going for the sermon. We've got some surveillance to do."

Geo was in a narrow walkway draped with blue vines and checkered flowers between rooms, with Cleo and Hector right behind him. Cleo saw Sight Shifter and Hatracker approaching them through the darkened hall.

"Ready to see Merackle?" Cleo asked.

"Yeah, and we got some news about the drowning. But it was hard to tell what happened. We caught sight of some interesting people at the accident scene." Sight Shifter swiped a drink from a tray heading back to the bar.

"Could you tell what they were doing?" Hector cut in. "That wand you found had some very incriminating information in it."

"Looked like they were arguing. We didn't see anyone around when the guy apparently went in."

"But you saw the guy go in?" Hector was hoping for a quick solution.

Sight Shifter shook his head.

"Did it look suspicious?" Hector waited for an answer.

"Maybe, but you know how it is, we were hoping to find out what the victim was doing there," Hatracker said.

"Makes sense," Hector looked satisfied.

"The scene was wiped out by some kind of red glow. We're still investigating. We don't think we're seeing everything that happened."

Cleo projected some pictures in the air with her wand, "Look at these and see if you recognize anyone."

"I saw those two." Sight Shifter pointed to Draco and Greenie. Hatracker confirmed the picks.

"No one else?"

"I didn't see any of the others."

"I got the pictures from Horaces, they're involved up to their necks in this somehow, the man, Draco, known as King of the Sippers, has dealings with Prezz, and the woman, she's Queen of the Sippers and she's working with Draco but not with Prezz. Apparently none of them like each other."

"What have we gotten into?" Hatracker asked.

"I'm not sure, but I think everyone is smashing the same piece of pie into mush. Let's go see Merackle." Cleo instructed her whirly to meet them at the front door.

**Chapter 22 Axel's Dreamworld Falls Apart**

Axel's office was in the warehouse area, which kept him out of sight of everyone he considered to be of no help. The enclosure around his work area had a door made of chain-link fence, which allowed people to see into the office, but was difficult to tell what they were looking at. The interior of the office appeared to be totally neglected with stacks of papers stuck in odd places. He liked paper records, they were easy to read, hard to steal, and he had no problems finding any documents he needed in the apparently unsorted piles.

Harry and Winepoor were seated around Axel's desk, which was a couple of exquisitely grained weedy wood planks thrown across two antique sawhorses.

"I want to get one of those natural bug cake makers," Harry said.

"The fake bug cakes are okay," Winepoor responded.

"You can't beat the natural flavor," Harry replied.

"I seen those things, it's an open front scoop with a fan blowing pheromones into it so the bugs fly right in. Once there's enough in it, they get squished into a cake which gets cooked. The nicer machines even wrap the bug cake in paper before it's ejected."

"Yup, that's exactly what I want." Harry sighed, "The machine made food just doesn't quite taste the same."

"Axel, did you write a second screenplay for the Steam Fighter dream series yet?" Winepoor asked.

"No, still writing it," Axel replied.

"Emma told me it was all true," Winepoor said.

"Yeah, I got the story from some old journals one of my relatives wrote two hundred years ago."

"You believe a person can radiate power from their nerve endings?" Winepoor asked with raised eyebrows.

"Look at what the Sippers can do," Harry was almost bragging.

"You're not sippin are you?" Axel asked.

"Nah, but maybe I should, seems to be a growing trend, definitely can't hurt ya," Harry wistfully answered.

Axel cared only for the business end of paid dream transmissions; he did his own dreaming, and no one was going to tell him what to dream. There were all sorts of reasons for buying dreams. Most commonly used as a sleep aid, for a favorite dream night after night, and for those craving variety, a different dream every night. Supposedly it was healthier to let the random dream generator pick a different subject every night.

With their mouths wide open in disbelief they were watching Yawrack's latest efforts, news stories showing huge alien spaceships attacking mining stations throughout the solar system. The static in the dreams was getting worse and this didn't help matters. Axel was wondering what else could go wrong. He twirled a dream interface unit round and round over his head, waiting for a reasonable answer to hit him, but none did. The dream unit came in for a landing on his desk, leaving a trail of scattered papers flying in its wake.

Picking up the interface headpiece, he felt his throat tighten. It was a specially modified unit, Modeany's latest creation, featuring instant dream feedback. Axel slipped on the headband and started the dream.

He was sitting at his desk, thinking how nice an hour's worth of sleep would be, when he suddenly woke with a start. His body was shaking. He crawled out from under the sheets and found himself on a mattress which was flat on the floor. Groping around, Axel couldn't find the bed frame anywhere. The mattress had caved in with absolutely not one bit of spring left. Grasping for the switch on his table lamp, he came up short; the lamp was nowhere to be found.

He reached out blindly for his night table. It was still there, he opened the drawer and pulled out a flashlight he used for emergencies. He couldn't find his antique zippo lighter he kept in the drawer but he could smell the lighter fluid from the wet padding and wick that were still there. He hated to lose the vintage lighter, it was real, unlike the imitation antiques the bulk printers churned out to meet the current demands of style. Crawling around on the floor, he came across his clothes and put on his pants and shirt. The zipper on his pants was gone. He found a pack of Weedy Lab smokes along with a retro book of matches in his shirt pocket.

Figuring it would be a long night, he pulled out a Weedy smoke. When he opened the matchbook cover, the matches fell out onto the floor.

He turned the flashlight on but it didn't work. He made his way to the window and looked out into the night sky. There was nothing much to see, not even stars. Noticing his vision was incredibly clear, he placed his lower arms on the windowsill and leaned forward.

His mind flowed away. Slowly he looked around the yard. He knew he was in his house, in a neighborhood of old fashioned houses made of Weedy wood using mortise and tenon joints secured with wood pegs. He trusted the old ways but his neighbors didn't, in critical areas they had used metal fasteners in place of the wood pegs to hold their houses together.

Across the street, he saw Harry running around in his front yard, apparently agitated that his wheeler and some other items Axel couldn't make out were missing.

He decided to shut the window to keep the bugs out, but just when he was pulling his head back inside, he heard more screams from Harry. He heard a roar from the direction of Fred's house next door.

From the corner of his left eye, he saw Fred's house slowly falling apart. Fred was kind of rolling along in front of the collapsing wreckage of his house, but Axel was more concerned with his right eye's view of the strangely familiar junk pile in his driveway. True, he'd drunk quite a bit the night before, maybe that pile of junk was all that remained of his whirly.

Taking a closer look, he could see the piles had familiar items in them; supposedly handmade seat covers, a mahogany dash board, the mahogany steering wheel, composite amber side panels, and a windshield. Scattered around those items where wheels and assorted parts from the whirly body, lying on the ground.

He looked back at Fred, who was still wandering around his yard. What looked to be the scattered remains of his house were piled up in a sad looking heap. Harry was still running around yelling but Axel couldn't make it out.

He stood in the window for several minutes. He could recognize the sounds of more structures toppling to the ground. Farther down the street, more houses were collapsing. Pulling his head inside, he made his way to the door, thinking there had been an earthquake and the worst was over. Yet it bothered him there hadn't been any swaying.

Surprise. The doorknob was missing. He probed inside the hole where the doorknob had been. The whole mechanism was gone. Shrugging his shoulders, he thought he was lucky not to be locked in. He grabbed the door lock hole and pulled the door open. A funny feeling came over him which turned into a wave of panic totally engulfing him. Suddenly he felt an overwhelming shape slowly falling over his body, pushing him to the floor, along with a sense of impending blackness, which was instantly followed by stars and bursts of multi-colored lights.

Dazed by what he decided must have been a blow to his head, he wanted to crawl back to the window, but a large, heavy object lay on top of him. It was the door. He squirmed until he felt himself free of the weight. Breathing heavily from the effort, he sat on the floor to collect his thoughts.

There was a bit more light in the room; his head was still reeling from the blow. He thought perhaps it was a tornado. Maybe time was moving slowly, and only seconds had gone by since the first shock waves had passed his way.

That must be it; the first shock wave had just gone through. He was determined not to miss any more, and anyway, Harry always threw parties for any occasion or anyone. Maybe he would have the whole block over for the final hours before the end of the world.

With this in mind, he got up to find Harry, but all he saw was a bunch of stars strung out on cobwebs and strange forms swirling around vaguely familiar geometric shapes. He strained to see past the stars, but the pattern disappeared into a white flash, after which a purple tunnel appeared. Looking towards the end of the tunnel, he could just make out a hazy silhouette with smaller white circles floating in front of it. Next thing he knew, his desk had popped into view.

He came to his senses and looked around. He should have known. The whole thing had just been a dream. He pulled off the dream interface and dropped it on the desk. This dream wouldn't be popular. What was Uncle Modeany trying to accomplish?

Curious now, Axel put the headpiece back on again. Leaning back in his chair, he swam upstream back into the dream.

He found himself racing down the highway. The slick, bluish black reflection of the roadway sailing under the wheels reinforced the notion he was in control. But that illusion shattered when the wheeler broke apart, leaving him tumbling with bits and pieces of the vehicle rolling right alongside of him. He seemed to be wrapped up in the fake leather seat covers that were shielding his body from the pavement as he bounced head over heels down the street.

Knowing it was a dream this time, he took the headpiece off and wondered if Modeany had any idea how the new dream unit worked. Who would request a dream of things falling apart?

His wand beeped. It was Emma, an executive dream master and his girlfriend. She was usually better at his job than he was, but if they failed on this one, there would plenty of flak for everyone from Yawrack. "What's up?" he asked.

"We're going down the tubes if we don't straighten this mess out. The number of static reports has jumped exponentially since last night."

"Can you get me the latest reports on what everyone is ordering for dreams?"

"Right on your desk, I knew you'd want them." Of course she knew; she was Emma.

"Come here so we can spread them out on the floor."

"You could use some decent lighting in that warehouse you call home."

"It has recessed mobile track lighting, you just need to turn it on."

"You must show me the controls someday," she started laughing. "Be right over."

What a day. Maybe they should both quit and get married. Working for materialistic rewards wasn't worth the effort. He studied the printouts scattered on the floor. He liked to flip through the pages of what he was looking at, it was too easy to miss virtual characters projected in thin air.

Emma arrived and looked at the reports strewn across the floor. "Quite frankly, I've been noticing a disturbing trend in the subject matter of dreams lately."

"That's news to me." He watched her frown, "I didn't think anything we did disturbed you."

"People are requesting violent dreams. Ever since the revenge series, the appetite for raw action has mushroomed, and the sales department is going crazy giving people what they want. And that Steam Fighter is absolutely going through the roof. Funny thing is no one cares about the static in that one. Screwing around with the news isn't bad enough? Now we got this crap," Emma snorted.

"You think there's a connection? Did you notice if the static shows up in all dreams?"

"I looked but there's no relationship between static and the types of dreams. The static started sometime after the introduction of the latest dreams, now it's hitting everyone. Even children's dreams are affected."

He pointed his wand projecting pages of the latest dream complaints in the air for everyone to see. The number of reports was off the chart. That never happened. The current problem was so monstrous that the head of the service department was in panic mode. Dreams no longer provided soothing sleep. The current company slogan, We Make Good Sleep, lay in tatters.

His wand buzzed three times, stopped, and then buzzed three more times. He answered and Yawrack's voiced jumped out at him. Axel wished he could hear crackling static now.

"Axel, get the dream units working. Now! We need to make some dreams containing specific messages," Yawrack demanded.

Axel knew exactly what Yawrack was saying but didn't want any part of it. "Advertising in the dreams? We don't do that."

"Modeany told me we can use Dreaming News programs in the dream feed. We can show clips trumpeting the beauty of living and working in space in the background."

"I doubt most people want dreams of themselves working in space," Axel retorted.

"If it's a nice job pushing buttons in a plush office with a view of all the nice hotels and clubs out there on the strip, they'll love it."

"So you want stuff like that wherever we can stick them in the dreams?"

"Absolutely. We have to boost the Free Space population."

Axel could imagine Yawrack waving his arms around like he was conducting a great orchestra. "No extras for the well off. Everyone gets the same treatment. That's what you want?" Axel drummed on his desk and then smacked it hard.

"Axel, I... er... we want it for everyone. Consider it to be of national importance."

"Not worldwide importance?" Axel played with Yawrack to see how far he could push him, not that he thought he'd fall over any time soon. "Hold on." Axel put Yawrack on hold and told Emma, "Call the gang in. Yawrack is up to no good." He clicked Yawrack back on.

"Wherever our dream market extends, that's how far we need to go," Yawrack said, trying hard to sell Axel on something he just wouldn't want.

"I just hate to do this to you, but the dreams aren't going smoothly, which means putting an image in a picture in a dream isn't going to work."

"I thought you and Modeany were going to fix the static problem. Am I wrong?" Yawrack raised his voice a notch.

"Totally. The new dreams are terrible. Whatever you dream literally falls apart. It's not working. Period. End of message."

"Never mind those dreams. If you can't fix it today, we'll use the Dreaming News feeds to deliver the messages. I'll expect it fixed tomorrow," Yawrack calmed down.

"Along with space monsters attacking mining stations?" There was a smirk on Axel's face. Winepoor was smothering a laugh behind his hand. Emma grinned.

"We'll update the newsfeed to show our forces blowing the space monsters out of the sky. It'll be the greatest story ever shown! A magnificent show, if I do say so myself."

"That's quite a story," Axel sarcastically remarked.

"Just get the dreams working, and I'll tell the news department to start remodeling the news messages." Yawrack clicked off.

Axel called Modeany and set the call on speaker. "We got real problems with the new dreams. Everything seems to fall apart. Who picked the subject matter?"

"It's a model for a series of dreams where all metal disappears. It's for Yawrack, just made it thirty minutes ago."

"Why would he want a dream like that?"

"He needs to make dreams showing aliens taking all the metal out of our world so we can't get off the planet or make any kind of progress ever again. Someone wants the world to believe aliens are robbing mining stations in Free Space of all the valuable metals they've collected. Next they'll come down to Earth and rip all the metal out of the entire planet. Should look quite spectacular."

"Are you serious?"

"Yawrack will do anything for money. That's why there's static in the dreams, I did it to stop him from using them to influence people's minds while they are sleeping. Bad enough he's doing it while they're awake."

"You put the static in the dreams! You!" Axel yelled at his wand.

Everyone looked surprised, Emma rocked back and forth on her heels.

"We've got a whole lot of problems right now. Don't let the static bother you. It's easy to fix. I only experimented with newsfeeds featuring Merackle, thought no one would care. Then when we updated the dreamware to add aggressive violence to the suggestion feeder I threw the static into most of the dreams. I'm not going to fix it just yet. Yawrack seems to need it right now."

"Why? What's going on?" Axel asked Modeany.

"Prezz is taking over Free Space and he is playing all sides against each other."

"Do you think he'll succeed?"

"I don't know but I'm going to put on my thinking detective hat to find a way out of this."

"Sure, do what you need to do. We all trust you. In the meantime, I think we'll lay low for a while and keep off Yawrack's radar."

**Chapter 23 Jersey Station Attack**

Jersey went to the exec's equipment room to check out the new suit he had been issued. In his private changing room he found one hell of a space suit hanging in the locker. Looking over the suit several screens came alive in his eye, showing him all the special features one would normally find in a tiny spaceship. The limbs were remotely controlled by his implant. There were propulsion jets capable of great speed, and the hands of the suit were exquisitely crafted flexible claws capable of applying a large amount of pressure. There were facilities in his suit for water, food, and sanitation. He could even wash his face. Maybe, just maybe, it was going to be a good day. He put on the spacesuit. To his amazement, he discovered it was just as easy for him to walk with the suit on as it was without it. This was because the suit had its own light weight mechanized skeleton with ultrafast response times.

He could snap his claws and flex his joints with the same dexterity his body had, but with a lot more power. He picked up the helmet and went through the doors heading out for the first floor where the current shift was suiting up to go outside.

He decided not to tell anyone who he was. The miners would see he was different by his suit and from the way he moved around. The miner's suits were clumsy, not designed for intricate maneuvering. Most of the suit joints were manually powered, making movements slow and cumbersome.

Jersey made his way through the miners and waited in the dust quarantine airlock for the transport car that would bring them from the station and deposit them on the loading and unloading platforms where the weightlessness dampened the clumsiness of their suits. Smart magnetic boots kept the workers on the platforms which were linked by multiple crosswalks running vertically and horizontally.

The doors opened to the transport bus. The empty interior automatically configured to the job at hand by bringing folding seats out of the floor. After everyone got in the car and buckled into the seats, the outside airlock doors opened and the car took off for the stationary work platforms. The air blew out when the doors opened wide, and they all tumbled outside into the brightly lit up work areas. The bus took off and headed back to lock onto the rotating station to pick up another load of miners.

Jersey made his way over to the corrals, where meteoroids were dropped off by the collection ships. A group of miners were busy smashing up a meteoroid. They were breaking up the rock into smaller pieces and feeding the dust and debris into an array of feeder tubes lined with long thin finger-like mechanical cilia which moved the material through the tube into the ore processing areas. Huge hand-held tools did most of the work. Pieces of ice mixed in with the ore and dust were pushed into another set of feeder tubes. Men collecting the ice also pushed pieces of ore back over to the rock ore crews.

Jersey set himself up on the topside of one of the massive ore corrals and kept a close watch through his internal screens, lending a push or shove wherever it was needed. His suit did all the work. The slightest movements his body made were picked up by hundreds of sensors on his skin and then amplified by his implant, which directly controlled his suit.

He was mentally going over any connections between the dead miners and dead executives when he heard yelling, his implant showed him it was from the feeder tubes section. Quickly, he shot over to see what the commotion was all about. One of the miners was screaming that a cluster of large yellow crystals just went into the feeder tubes.

Not sure how to handle the situation, Jersey checked with the executives' control room. Their recommendation was to increase the power to the feeder tubes. Instead, he signaled the processors to reverse the feeder flow so the flexible steel fingers would kick back out whatever the miner had seen. The space around the feeder tubes filled with dust and small chunks of ore. The miner who originally saw the crystals took off with thrusters on full power after whatever had been spit out in the back wash, madly waving his arm he shot out of sight. Everyone in the area waited for the miner to return, curious to know what he had seen. The miners were talking about the prospects of finding more treasure when a strange sight befell their eyes. The miner who disappeared from sight came drifting back into view. He was upside down and a thin jet of eerie looking foam spewed out from the side of his suit. Jersey shot over to see what had happened. He knew the miner's suit was punctured, but Jersey didn't want to believe it. When he got alongside the miner, Jersey could see the man was quite dead. He looked at the miner's hands, but there was nothing in them. He quickly directed the other miners to bring the body inside.

Jersey slowly drifted out to the place where the miner had died. He checked his scanners, looking for anything unusual. The report from the executive sector stated the miner had died because of his poor judgment. A request was made for Jersey to give the okay to restart the operation. He ignored the request and went a little farther around the cluster of meteoroids floating in the pens.

One of his scanners was picking up a piece of solid metal rapidly moving away from the chunks of rock. Not sure what it could be, he followed the disappearing shape. Rising hair on the back of his neck signaled he was looking at something other than treasure. He landed on a large meteoroid chunk, locked his boot anchors onto the rock, and started to look around.

He could just make out the faint outline of a shape moving towards him. It was not really visible, and seemed to be blocking his view of the dim scenery behind it. He tried camera shots from other locations, but nothing was showing up. His scanner, however, was screaming metal all over his mind. His eyes showed him nothing. His implant was showing him a silvery blur heading straight towards him. In knee-jerk fashion, he unlocked his boot grips, put his mini rockets on full thrust, and just as he was beginning to take off, saw a brilliant explosion at the tip of his boots. Pulverized rock shot out everywhere. He knew his boot was punctured.

Quickly using the lightning speed his electric skeleton provided, he clamped down hard on the toe of his boot with his amplified hand. The pain was white-hot, but the metal claws that he sported firmly flattened the toe of his space suit boot, sealing the leak. The pain was pushing past the point of volcanic hot peppers, pain within pain. Slowly, he jetted over to the feeder tubes where the miners had regrouped.

The miners helped him into the airlock and quickly closed the door. They hit the emergency air pressure button, which blasted the room with jets of ultrahigh pressure air. Finally, the airlock reached full pressure. Jersey had already been in touch with the BodyServers, who were waiting for him on the other side of the airlock. The human-looking BodyServer was waiting for him. Jersey looked at the familiar face and noticed it was looking directly at him for once. "I'm not paying for this. No way am I paying," Jersey said through gritted teeth.

The BodyServers removed the portion of the boot not stuck to his foot, the blood started pouring out on the floor. They gave him an electric pain-neutralizer jolt in the foot. The blood flowed over to where the BodyServer with the human face was standing. Jersey thought it was going to bend over and take a closer look at the blood, but it didn't. The wound was temporarily cauterized. "All right, never mind who's paying for it. Just get me fixed up, and make sure it's in an inside room," Jersey instructed them.

"Yes, sir." The human faced BodyServer drove the cart to the fifth floor.

"Machine Control Center," Jersey yelled out. "I need to know where every machine has been in the last twenty minutes."

"Any particular location?" the station machine processors inquired.

"You're damn right. Outside, that's where," Jersey growled while the BodyServers continued cutting away the rest of the flattened boot tip from what was left of his toes.

"We can tell you none of our machines were anywhere near that location," the processors answered.

"Do you know what hit me?" he sputtered. "What's wrong with your scanners. Couldn't you guys sense it out there?"

"There is too much free metal and rocks floating around out there for the sensors to pick up every piece," the station processors explained.

"We are going to remove the end of your foot," the BodyServer told Jersey.

"You don't surprise me anymore," Jersey said, suddenly laughing when the BodyServer succeeded in cutting off the end of his foot. Jersey lay in a relaxed position watching the BodyServer working on what was left of his foot. "Put the strongest impulse weapon you got in the fake foot, and make sure it's got plenty of power and doesn't need direct contact to work. Remember, this one's on the house," Jersey reminded him.

"As you wish," the BodyServer replied.

"And don't over sedate me. I'm still trying to figure out what's going on around here."

_Can I be of any help?_ A familiar voice sounded in his head. Jersey looked all around the room but couldn't see anyone to connect the voice to. He checked the cameras in the room, but there was nothing to see. He looked back to the BodyServer, which for once was now paying very close attention to its actions.

_Everything's okay for now. No pictures are leaving the room,_ Ursa communicated via the implant.

_It's you. We met in the bar this morning. Seems so long ago._ Jersey was busy sorting out his screens, but there were no images of her. _What's the deal?_ Jersey's curiosity was growing.

I'm not too far away. By the way, I've been going through the station's visual records. The thing you ran into outside the station is listed as an unknown design of unknown origin; human made, not machine made. Probably someone's pet. The processors are drawing a complete blank, which is why they couldn't help you. Next time, draw a picture and ask better questions. They don't have to listen to vague inquiries.

_What kind of maniac has a pet like that?_ Jersey asked.

I told you they were dangerous.

Jersey noticed a flashing in the corner of his eye. One of the energy flow scanners was indicating a high power draw from one of the transport tubes for the storage area where processed ore products were kept. He quickly scanned the records and traced out the path of the heavier than normal cargo load. It was showing a load of the most valuable refined products, but the processors had no information concerning where the ore was going. Jersey whistled and showed his screens to Ursa. _Can you see that?_

Yes, I can.

They watched the rare ore go to the cargo loading area in the engineering bay where three shuttles were waiting. _There is a large clipper coming in to pick up the executives,_ Ursa explained.

_What are they up to?_ Jersey asked.

_The executives are abandoning the station,_ she answered.

_Thanks for the vote of confidence,_ he replied.

There is a huge alien mining ship bearing down on the station. The execs tried to destroy it a few weeks ago it, but it got away. They think it's returning to repay the favor.

Those reports are true? Stations being destroyed?

Not true, the execs did all the destruction, this is just to scare them off the station. The ship is friendly.

"Your foot has been repaired," the BodyServer solemnly announced.

"Thank you," Jersey answered sarcastically.

_What are you going to do next?_ She asked.

_From the raw readings I can see, I know it's a big load of very rare metals and other extremely valuable products. I think I'll take it away from them. You know more than you're saying, don't you?_ Jersey knew he was on a fishing expedition without a hook.

_I'm sorry, but my hands are tied for the moment. You're on your own until I can get there. These are powerful people who own this operation, and anything legal would be a joke to them. Do you get my drift?_ She sounded truly concerned.

_Do I need evidence?_ He asked her, thinking about his future.

It would be nice, but the way things are going today, it won't matter much. We can always make it right before the cosmic dust has a chance to settle. Check out the sensors on the collectors in the refinery section. Your station has only officially reported ten percent of the off-planet rare earths recovered in the last year. No one cares because of the extremely large amounts of material seeded with space additives that were shipped to Earth. By selling at cheap prices they bribed everyone to overlook where they were getting it from and how much they kept back for themselves. Be very careful. You might run into that nasty pet again. It could have teeth.

_Yeah, thanks Ursa. I'll keep that in mind. By the way, I liked the way you said this was my station. I'm going to hold you to that._ He looked at his new foot and wondered how accurate it would be when the time came to shoot something with it.

Whatever you do, make sure the execs don't get the ore.

_Got you._ His brain was turning upside down in his head. He laughed. _Tell me, are you on the approaching clipper?_

No, the alien ship is picking me up. I'll be there as soon as I can.

Jersey started reviewing the layout of the refineries while he tried contacting the processors on board the rapidly approaching clipper. _Can you see what the executives are doing?_ He asked her.

I can see enough, but that huge spaceship is almost on top of you now. You have to start making plans to evacuate the station because it might become scrap metal if we can't recover the special ore.

_What are you talking about?_ Jersey checked his screens, no warning messages.

There is a very angry spaceship coming your way. I have to laugh, but I really shouldn't. It's a giant alien mining ship. It literally can't be seen until it is on top of you. Call it karma, or the law which says for every action there is an equal but opposite reaction. You need to get everyone outside or at least suited up. It's going to try to automatically recover some special ore from your station. I'm not sure I can control it. I'll send you a spectral signature of what we are looking for. Don't let the execs take it. We need the execs out of there, but we also need to get the miners to a safe place. I don't know if the station will be torn apart to find what we are looking for. We are shorthanded, it would be great if you could get everyone off the station.

Do the execs know any of this?

_They know the alien ship is coming, because we let them see it coming, and they know how valuable the special ore is they stole from us. Take good care of yourself._ Ursa signed off.

Jersey looked at the layout of the station. It resembled a cylinder with a hollow core. "Machine Control Center, I'm going to need plenty of cameras looking everywhere." But no pictures came through. He broadcast messages to all the execs in which he told them, forget about brunch because he would personally be coming for them. "Machine Control Center, I need camera feeds for everywhere I can't see. What have you got?"

The human faced BodyServer stepped forward. "I have the best mobile optics on this station."

"Okay, you got the job. Can the rest of the BodyServers make their cameras public?" Jersey asked.

"BodyServers are not supposed to beam images anywhere of what they see except for images relevant to the patient's health."

"Yeah, right. Can we forget about that rule?"

"If you don't tell anyone, we can make an exception."

"The execs are loading up three shuttles with really valuable ore in the central bay without official company orders. Turn on the BodyServers' cameras so I can see what's happening."

"Will the execs be needing medical assistance?" the BodyServer inquired.

"No, they seem to be helping themselves." Jersey wondered if sarcasm would be lost on the machine.

He called Ursa with his implant. _The execs shut down the cameras. I suspect they are looting the ore. The power is probably going to fail in some sections. Here's the deal. Junior and I will do whatever it takes to keep the miners healthy._

Who's Junior?

A BodyServer who keeps putting me back together again.

Great, you only have a few minutes, so listen well. The execs have been plundering alien mining ships, destroying them and robbing them of their cargo. The aliens have been mining the asteroid patch for special substances to salt Earth's biosphere to return it to its normal, non-poisonous state.

And how do you know this?

Never mind. We've lost many ships to your station, and if we lose too many more, the salting process might not succeed. Find the ore with the spectral signature I sent you. It's not from this solar system, you Earthlings shouldn't have it. Whatever you do, don't let the execs take it.

I'll look in the refinery, and that's probably where their pet sleeps. If I find it, I'll turn its lights out.

Be careful, I like you the way you are. An alien ship is coming to pick up the miners. You must stop the shuttles in the engineering bay from leaving, that special ore might already be in those shuttles.

You ask a lot but don't stop asking, I like it.

See you when I get there.

"Come on Junior," Jersey looked at the BodyServer. "Have you ever tangled with a marauding machine?"

"No," the BodyServer sounded puzzled.

"Welcome to the party."

Lights were blinking on and off while the station processors engaged in a power wrestling match with the executives to see who would control the station.

Figuring some of the elevators must still be operating, he set off to find one. The first two failed to function, but the third worked. He thought it might be a trap but got on it anyway.

Jersey and the BodyServer headed for the refinery. When Jersey judged they were a few seconds from door-opening time, he put his finger to the light panel in the top of the car and blew the light out of the ceiling with his personal weapons system. He told the BodyServer to stand in front of him as the door opened with a hiss. It was pitch dark but for a second, his thermal sight showed the nasty pet standing up on thin spindly legs aiming its stinger at the head of the BodyServer. The projectile hit with a loud bang knocking the head off the BodyServer's shoulders.

Jersey jumped into the room, pulling what was left of the BodyServer along with him. A shower of sparks spit out of the neck of the BodyServer. In the complete darkness the BodyServer's multi-spectrum sensors had caught the nasty pet in its sights, giving Jersey a clear image of it imprinted in his implant. He crawled down one of the aisles.

"Go to your left, it's waiting for you," the headless BodyServer instructed Jersey.

"You still here?"

"I experienced a small fire, but it's out now, and I'll deal with the meaningless cosmetic situation later."

"Aren't your memories in your head?" Jersey asked.

"My memories are redundantly stored throughout my entire body. My head is merely a decoration to make people feel better and give extra height to some of my sensors."

"You know where it is?"

"Yes, it's moving, last sighting was over to the left, behind the tall machinery."

"All right, I'll try to sneak up on it."

"Watch out for your brains."

"What?"

"You got two brains, the solid state one is in your head, the hollow state one is called your stomach, neither one has adequate shielding."

"Thanks for the tip," Jersey mumbled, slowly crawling along the floor.

He was counting on his implant and the BodyServer's sensors to locate the execs' pet before it locked onto him. He made his way to a collection point of rare metals and took some panels off the wall, all the while looking over his shoulder. He knew the pet could sense him but all the metal in the room prevented both of them from knowing each other's locations. Jersey checked the rare metal flow meters. The fools up top would know what he was doing, and they probably thought their nasty pet would hunt him down. He was counting on it. He looked around twice, stuck his head inside the circuitry, checking for anything not listed in the master inventory.

Suddenly Jersey felt a very cold wind blow across his heart. Figuring it had to be the pet, he snapped his head back just as multiple explosions of shattered equipment filled the room. Whirling around, he leapt towards where the shots originated.

He hoped the pet couldn't recycle its shooter before he could reach it, but it was closer than he thought. It went up on three legs, and came out swinging. Its powerful blows sent pieces of broken machinery flying everywhere. Jersey spent the first few seconds dodging blows and ducking the wild swings of the mechanical hallucination. He started to get a bead on the pet with a laser pistol but it was knocked out of his hand. He flung a thick metal bar at the pet as it scuttled out of sight.

Jersey was almost out of time. He still needed to crash the lead shuttle into the inside wall of the station to block the other shuttles from leaving. After that, he'd worry about herding the execs onto the clipper.

He located the auto pilot controls for the shuttles and rammed the nose of the lead shuttle into the rotating inner wall of the station. At the same time the nasty pet came up from behind, whirling around he kicked his fake foot into its head. As the pet grabbed Jersey's fake foot and pulled it into a steel tooth rotary garbage disposal unit atop a flailing collection of snapping claws, he sent all the power he could muster into his personal weapons system masquerading as a foot.

Set for point blank range, his fake foot literally disappeared in the resulting explosion. The rotary garbage disposal unit melted into a molten mass that dripped down the mechanical limbs and shorted the whole thing out. Blown back, he heard hissing and popping as the nasty pet melted into a pool of trash.

Exhausted and minus his foot again, he checked the damage caused by the misguided shuttle. The rotation of the station kept the inner wall of the hollow core turning on the nose of the poorly parked shuttle, ripping it open. The self-sealing foam couldn't handle the large rip so it looked more like a giant can opener forever trying to open a can that would never quite open. The other shuttles banged into each other. He could see the execs scurrying onto the clipper like startled cockroaches.

The BodyServer quickly set about cleaning up and bandaging Jersey's ankle before the numbing effect of the blast wore off.

Jersey raised himself up in front of the flickering pile of garbage that was once an engine of destruction. He wanted to laugh, but he knew he would sound like a madman. Besides, someone should grieve for his foot, now lost for the second time, and the misguided mechanical pet.

He waited for the BodyServer to finish cleaning up what was left of his foot. "We've got to get moving, BodyServer."

"Whatever you say," the headless machine replied.

They made their way to the rear platform, picking up a new spacesuit so Jersey could go outside. He was watching the execs without their precious cargo rushing onto the clipper, which had just showed up.

Jersey told the processors to get all the miners ready to board the alien mining ship when it arrived. The clipper opened its boarding entrances for the fleeing execs, ready to pull out at a moment's notice. They didn't want to be around when the alien ship arrived to feast on the remains of the mining station.

_Jersey._ It was Ursa.

What?

How's it going?

The station is destroyed, the execs are fleeing, and the ore you're looking for is still here. And those three shuttles aren't going anywhere.

How are you?

I guess we're okay. Lost my foot again and my new buddy BodyServer needs a new head, but apparently they only use them to hang eyes and ears on.

Jersey and the headless BodyServer were waiting outside on the rear platform along with four hundred miners crowded into wherever they could find a place to stand. He told them to get all the personnel sleds and flying carts they could find and be ready to board a rescue ship which would be arriving momentarily. The clipper ship took off for parts unknown.

Suddenly, right in front of the miners, an enormous whale shaped body covered with organic three-dimensional designs appeared out of nowhere next to the rear platform. It seemed to go on for miles. Loading bay doors slid open in numerous places.

_All aboard!_ Ursa's voice sang out in Jersey's head.

On the public channel someone said, "That's a whale of a ship."

The self-propelled sleds and carts began ferrying miners, equipment, and all the ore over to the alien mining ship.

**Chapter 24 Merackle's Last Speech**

Cleo, Geo, Hector, Hatracker, and Sight Shifter got in the whirly waiting for them outside the Grotto Restaurant. It was a spaceport company vehicle: last year's model, powerful, metallic blue, a classic Magnum with bench seats and plenty of legroom. With all the chrome trim, thick bumper, and huge headlamps, the head on view resembled a smiling face.

"Whirly, west field ten, three stone caverns entrance," Cleo requested. They headed out, with Geo and Cleo sitting in silence in the front seat, with Hector, Hatracker, and Sight Shifter in the back. Landing on the access road, the wheels popped out; they joined the ground traffic heading into the lower levels of the spaceport. No room for flying in there. They followed a series of ramps along with a couple of dozen other whirlys and wheelers crowding around them. The farther they traveled into the depths of Lower CrossRoads the slower the traffic flowed.

The spaceport was really just a massive hangar surrounded by hundreds of landing strips, factories, labs, offices, hotels, apartments, and stores. Scattered around it were communities, weedy farms, and industrial sectors, all laid out in checkerboard fashion. As you got lower down into the depths of the spaceport, the coarseness of the construction increased along with the randomness of the honeycomb design. The unofficial living quarters of Lower SpacePort consisted of thousands of rooms, passageways, huge caverns, and interconnecting tunnels.

Originally, the areas underneath the spaceports were empty, dark, and supposedly lifeless. But there were bugs and animals down there. Then people moved in. Squatters at first. Then homemade cities blossomed in the caverns, filled with people just waiting to get their chance to take their place in Free Space. There were always a couple of hundred thousand people living in the shelter of the underground, protected from the wild weather.

Crowds of people were trying to squeeze into the stream of vehicles flowing downward. Merging into increasingly narrower roadways the seething mass of people and machines slowed to a crawl.

"Do we know what this speech is about?" Geo asked.

"Horaces says it's a call for some big changes in the Free Space zones," Cleo said.

"What kind of changes?" Geo asked.

"Getting more people up there. Changing the food and living situations. Problem is Prezz is muscling in, wants to win the population war in space. He could hijack the whole scene. Have you noticed the people passing us seem to know where they're going? I think we know some of them," Cleo observed.

"Of course we know them. Do you think poor pilgrims travel in whirlys?" Geo shaded his eyes to see inside the other vehicles. I never dreamed Merackle was this popular. I didn't realize this many people listened to him in person."

"Might be better than the movies," Hector commented.

"Does that mean we won't have to go to the movies this weekend?" Cleo asked.

"We're going if the second Steam Fighters movie is running. Everyone's waiting for the sequel, even the dreamer channels have been playing it up," Geo informed them. He waved to a friend and a woman he didn't recognize passing them in a wheeler decoratively hand-painted with flying pterodactyls. "Oh look." Geo pointed to another wheeler with a sky blue body with flaming yellow lightning bolts. "We know them too."

Cleo was too busy looking at the walls to notice the people going by. She noticed power cables and utility pipes ran everywhere. Normally those were used for industrial hookups; standard living quarters were wired with very thin water pipes and thin fibers which carried very little power.

They were slowly bumping their way through people on foot. She located a ledge three levels above the roughly constructed ground floor which she plotted a course for. From there they could overlook a big homemade arena which was carved of rock and hardcarbon. They took a turn down a side route dimly lit by bioluminescent light panels. She found a hidden industrial elevator left over from the original construction and used her wand to open the doors, maneuvering the whirly into the tight space. They got out of the elevator and slowly cruised down a dimly-lit tunnel until it opened into a twenty foot wide ledge of rough hardcarbon. People sat in a makeshift front row with their legs dangling over the edge leaning on a thick wire railing. Cleo parked and they joined the people sitting on crude chairs made of boxes or chunks of hardcarbon left over from the original construction.

"We should have brought chairs," Geo told Cleo. "Can you see Merackle?"

There was a big crowd in the arena. A small group of people in the center were setting up a portable sound system.

Sight Shifter called Farmerr. A woman answered. Geo looked at him, a smile on his face. "Well go on Sight Shifter. See who it is."

"Is Farmerr there?" Sight Shifter inquired.

Geo grabbed the wand and put it on speaker. "Hi, who's this? I'm Geo."

"I'm Greenie, Farmerr is setting up the audio system," the woman answered.

Farmerr's voice could be heard in the background, "Everything's set up."

"You got a big crowd here. Don't you think the news will pick it up?" Geo asked Greenie.

"Just being sure. Not everyone has a positive attitude about how everything is done down here. The speeches are not broadcast live and the recordings are loaded with static," Greenie replied.

"Do you know how the static is getting into the recordings we hear?" Geo asked.

"He's coming out." Greenie cut the call.

From their vantage point, they could see Merackle dressed in a faded green jacket and olive green baggy pants, reflecting the color of the planet. The crowd opened then closed back around the small group surrounding Merackle as they wove their way to the center of the arena. Two large brown dogs with tan tiger stripes kept pace with him. A third dog carefully watched the scene a few steps away. Nearby a canister could be seen weaving through the crowd around Merackle.

The crowd quieted while Merackle wrapped a wand around his neck which connected him to the makeshift sound system. He looked over the crowd spread out around him, glancing up at those perched on ledges cut into the walls.

"There's been a great deal of confusion down through the ages because people have attempted to speak in the words of the Great Spirit. I do not use the words of the great books. There are too many books for each tongue when there should only be one.

"I speak of the Great Spirit in times of simpler people who didn't feel they needed to speak for the Great Spirit, for how could a person know? That's as foolish as trying to describe the Great Spirit in our own words. The Great Spirit asks for nothing in return. We sow what we reap.

"I speak of observation and you can forget about sacred real estate because there's no real estate on this planet that the Great Spirit is interested in. Because the Great Spirit fills the universe in darkness and light, any land is the same as any other piece of land.

"The Great Spirit is the spreading of life of any kind, migrating on the backs of comets, winged asteroids, and anything else that will take it from one end of the universe to the other.

"Even in the darkest reaches of space, there are endless wavefronts of life traveling anywhere they can take root and grow. And the breath of life doesn't need to know it's alive for it to be as great as the Great Spirit, because it is the Great Spirit. There are places in the universe where the Great Spirit doesn't yet reside, but someday it will. And there are places it has left, only to return again and again.

"Riding the crests of light and dark, hot and cold, star light and black holes, trumpeting the coming of the Great Spirit, the tides of life are anything that promotes the advancement of life.

"Beware of the universal god that followed the multitude of gods, for that one god is just a single entity for only one group. One true god for each group is still many gods.

"Flow with the Great Spirit for it fills the universe with life, sometimes waiting dormant billions of years before it can bloom again. The real estate it grows on doesn't need to be land, water, or air. Any medium that allows any form of life to multiply and grow is suitable."

Merackle stopped for a drink of water. He leaned over and then straightened up once more, his voice booming out, "Worship the true spirit of life instead of a god that needs constant attention, requires real estate and uses words belonging to someone else. Remember this, gods are the sparks that make inert materials come to life. What life does after it develops has nothing to do with how it was created.

"Listen to me, for I speak the truth! I can immerse you in the stream of the Great Spirit. Go where there's no stagnation of broken promises stuck in the minds of interpreters.

"I speak to those who want to escape this world, who question the force of gravity which keeps us here. I can get you out of this whirlpool of lost guidance, the land where people dare to tell you they know who your god is. You don't know god like they do, and that's to your benefit. Their sense of style has become more important than actually helping those less fortunate."

He paused again, catching his breath. "You cannot point in the direction of the Great Spirit, for the spirit is everywhere. How do we find the stream of life, the real spirit which makes no demands upon your obedience?

"When people explain how the world works, be wary, because people only describe things in terms they understand. We are standing in the dimension commonly known as Heaven. It's the place where mind over matter occurs naturally, born into each of us. It is the highest state of consciousness. Listen to your body. For this is the place where life, matter, and energy all come together for a brief moment in time. Just wave your hand, listen to your heart beat, and you will know it is so. We are mind over matter.

"Everyone uses preservation of the species as a rationale for being here when in fact we are just one of many multi-cellular experiments which have gone awry over the last half billion years. The truth is, when tools come on the scene, it becomes the survival of the trickiest, not the fittest, that survives. Go to where there is no gravity, become a true voyager, and spread the spirit of living. I am the one who can get you there.

"You don't need to be rich, you don't need connections, you don't need to join the military. I will pay for the shuttle tickets to take you to Free Space, and vouchers for a place to live in Free Space which fills every corner of the universe. And very soon, I'll supply you with the ability to transport your living space anywhere you want to go for free, like a great tortoise shell."

The crowd went crazy. Reverberating everywhere, the sound of cheering beat against the walls and the roof.

Merackle smiled and waved at the crowd which fell silent. "You won't be breaking any speed limits, but anytime you want, you'll be able to travel back and forth between Earth and Free Space for free."

Cheering erupted again.

"Be wary of those who proclaim comfort in place of responsibility. All we have to do is to keep the Great Spirit in our hearts and minds. Do it for a life of few regrets. There's plenty of work for all, and I can supply you with shelter and everything you need to start new lives. I live in the fullness of Empty Space. Feel the weightlessness whenever you want."

Merackle paused for a moment, his voice taking on a deeper timbre.

"Remember this, Eternal life is all around us, that's what makes eternal love possible. Not our life and death, nor our love for each other, nor the spirits around us. We don't have to read all about it. We don't have to wait. We can make it grow now by finding new fertile ground for the Great Spirit to take root in.

"Just as brave people the world over, since time began, have made their way to the future, crossing vast open plains, wide oceans, extreme cold and heat, even dust—if it's a boundary, people were born to cross it. We are born to wander, for even slime molds know how to throw themselves over obstacles.

"That is the Great Sprit inside of us. If we extend the reach of the Great Spirit, we will live forever. If we wait for the future to come to us, by the time we feel it, we'll be standing in the past."

Merackle stopped again and looked around. The crowd was silent, intent on every word. "You spent a considerable amount of time learning various symbols and their respective series. The two most popular series are the alphabet and numbers. The first shocks young minds receive are that everything is in a well-ordered fashion that is based on nothing rational whatsoever, just someone's idea of what reality is supposed to look like. The natural order of the alphabet and the positive counting numbers, which makes perfect sense to some, is nothing but perfect confusion to others. It's more important to learn how to think instead of memorizing what to say.

"The next shocks after those seemingly endless memorizations, is that practically everything is combined in apparently random order and then given to the highest bidders based on nothing more than the concept of hoarding. Possession is nine-tenths of the law, unless you are in Free Space where possession is all that counts. When words are used to draw up boundaries, and the lines are without reason, fighting is simply inevitable."

He took a drink of water while waiting to catch his breath.

"We have come to the place where you can be in a thousand places at once, each with its own particular view, and none are in agreement with each other. Many spirits accompany us. One group represents the triple points of water, where ice, water, and vapor come together. A seemingly rare place, and yet there are countless substances forming triple point oases all over the universe.

"On this remarkable planet, life thrives in many different environments, including boiling hot sulfur vents, frozen methane undersea pastures, even under a thousand atmospheres of pressure buried beneath hot rocks. Each one is waiting for its big chance to take over the world. A wait time of a billion years is nothing to these organisms. They are ready to step up whenever the climate changes.

"When I travel alone through Empty Space, without all those single cell beings redesigning the true me all the time, I know my reference frame of reality, but not the picture within because I am a collection of colonies."

Leaning against a chair Merackle looked weak and tired.

"Let's talk about today. Millions of electronic sensors, standing alone and in clusters, permeate the landscape, patterned after a being over four billion years old living inside and outside of our senses.

"There's no reason why this being has to be sweet to us. It could just as easily be sour. I speak of the Pad of life, it is four billion years old. If the Pad dies, we die, but the Pad never dies. If we completely disappear, the Pad keeps right on ticking. The Pad started the great cycles people sought the origin of for years, thinking they must be part of their own grand scheme. Everything in the world eventually gets thrown away. The Pad consumes every scrap of garbage on this planet. It also eats stuff before we think it's garbage. Even as we stand here, people are grinding the world into little pieces and reshaping those pieces into new objects which are then fed back as gifts to the Pad. We are supposed to respect it, not copy it, otherwise we end up following a life of perpetually self-inflicted sacrifice.

"We have changed the Pad so it no longer supports us. The Pad survives on forced sacrifice. Every other day, half of the world's bacteria is killed by massive herds of viruses whose sole job is to hunt down the bacteria it's perfectly matched with, to kill half of it every other day so it may give energy and food back to the Pad. Imitating the Pad will only end in disaster for all of us, but not for the Pad of life, who will gladly take all sacrifices. Whatever we feed the Pad, it will always give back to us, because the Pad believes we need it.

"All of this is done randomly. Nothing is destroyed and nothing is singled out to the last member, there are always representatives left to carry on the circles of life. This happens at all levels, even the virus hunters themselves are hunted down by their own virus killers keyed to them.

"Given the situation we find ourselves in, the Martian Maintenance Microbe life style is perhaps the best that can done for now, but it needs more varieties. We don't want all our eggs in one basket. Each new species of bacteria added to the mix will bring us more powers. Don't be fooled by imitations. Only bacteria from space will work. This is only the beginning. They are our allies.

"I don't insist you take up the way of the Sippers, but I must tell you, that life style will quickly return the planet to its previous healthful self. Insects are only messengers. If they bring bad news, it's because they were given bad news. The bodies within their exoskeletons are microcosms, a true picture of what the world really looks like. To make the insects healthy we have to make the animals, the flesh of our bodies, healthy. By missing the fact that all living things are connected in a great circle where no point is any better than any other point on the circle, we can only gnaw on our own limbs thinking it is the flesh of others."

Merackle ended his speech and slowly sat down on a pile of rubble. The dogs followed him. He slumped over on a rough hardcarbon slab. A crowd gathered round him and a great cry went up, "Where are the BodyServers?"

"Is that it, Cleo?" Hector asked over the noise of the crowd, not realizing what had happened to Merackle.

"What do you think? Should we do this again?" Geo was laughing. "If you don't think promising people free shuttle tickets and free space travel isn't exciting, then I don't know what is. And the setting, so romantic. The dim lights, the smell of the crowd, and oh that dust. Yes, we should do this again."

"Let's not forget about the flying bugs." Sight Shifter batted at one absently. "I bet more than half are mechanical." Suddenly his wand beeped. He took the call, "Holy cow! Farmerr says Prezz is trying to kidnap Merackle!"

"We've got to get him out of here!" Geo blurted out.

"And get him some medical treatment, he looks pretty bad," Hector added.

Sight Shifter spoke into his wand. "Hey Farmerr, can you clear a space where we can land and pick up Merackle?"

"In this crowd? No way."

"Let's get down there." Cleo quickly lead the way back to the elevator.

**Chapter 25 Merackle's Rescue**

After Merackle's speech people were milling around, excitedly talking to each other. Hector and Cleo led everyone back to the whirly but it was jammed in by the crowd.

"I don't see us going anywhere anytime soon," Hatracker said.

"Landing on the ground floor, without a cleared space, is out of the question," Geo pointed out.

Cleo's wand buzzed. It was Horaces. Cleo set it on speaker, "You're just in time."

"What do you need?" Horaces asked.

"Do the BodyServers have anything to do with what's happening?" Cleo asked.

"We don't discuss each other's activities. You would have to ask them," Horaces answered.

"Why don't you talk to the BodyServers?" Cleo asked.

"We're competing with them."

"Tell me what I need to know."

"We know about Merackle's situation and we will coordinate with BodyServers to help Merackle. We know they would be very interested in helping him, probably because of their concern about how the present constantly unfolds inside the human mind without ever reaching tomorrow. We both independently provide care and support for the planet's diverse life forms, and also help feed the humans. One difference between us and the BodyServers is that we have archaeologists exploring and retrieving pieces of ancient history all over the globe in order to better understand how people got to where they are now while the BodyServers do all they can to sweep every scrap of history under the rug."

"Okay," Cleo didn't know what else to say.

"We have decided to trust you. We must, therefore, explain the whole situation to you," Horaces announced."

"How long will that take?" Cleo looked at her watch.

"Probably several hours. But we don't have the time."

"Where do you want to start?"

"A cart is picking up Merackle. The BodyServers will supply medical care. We have informed the people watching over Merackle of the situation. Your assistance would be instrumental in helping to save Merackle's life."

Sight Shifter looked at Cleo, "Do you trust them?"

"We're going to need all the help we can get." The expression on Cleo's face meant they didn't need to think of saying no.

"Okay, what do you say, Hatracker?" Sight Shifter asked.

"I'm in."

Horaces spoke to all of them again. "There are people trying to get control of the foam business. They will stop at nothing. Get to the main floor and help bring Merackle back to his temple. Then you need to make him disappear, but it has to look like an accident."

Sight Shifter's wand beeped. It was Farmerr. "We need help keeping the crowd away from him. He isn't walking. We got people watching the cart and the crowd. We need some of you to join our people at Merackle's Temple. That's where we're going."

"Who's at Merackle's?" Sight Shifter asked.

"Me, Greenie, and Herkimer are on the floor with Merackle. Eddy, Thor, and Archey Wolfe, who doesn't talk much, are back at Merackle's place," Farmerr explained.

"We'll split up. Me, Cleo, and Hector will help you get Merackle back to his temple, while Geo and Hatracker will meet us there," Sight Shifter replied.

"It's getting crowded here. Everyone wants a free ticket," Farmerr's voice faded out. "Wait a minute, we can give the tickets out. We'll use them to distract the crowd."

"Be with you in a minute." Sight Shifter cut the call, turned to Geo, "Meet us at Merackle's Temple and find a backdoor out of here."

"On it." Geo took off running for the temple with Hatracker right behind him.

"You know where you're going?" Hatracker yelled out, catching up to Geo.

"Absolutely, I've been checking out this place for months." Laughing he easily sidestepped an errant cart trapped in the crowd.

Cleo, Hector, and Sight Shifter caught with up Farmerr, Herkimer, and Greenie who were trying to move Merackle through a crowd that was packed tight around them.

They had Merackle on a cart with Greenie holding him in a sitting position. The crowd milling around them was too thick and moving too slow to put the cart on autodrive. Sight Shifter and Hector joined Herkimer at the rear of the cart to help push it. Cleo joined Farmerr at the front of the cart to forcibly guide people out of the way. The dogs also pushed people out of the way. It was slow going until they got past the mob clamoring to talk to Merackle.

Farmerr gently shoved three people to his left. "Have you figured out a way to get him out of here?"

Cleo used her elbow as a pry bar to move people away from them. "Horaces says it's got to look like he had an accident."

"Right, so no one tries to look for him." Farmerr pushed more people away from the cart.

"Merackle is obviously in bad health." Cleo quit pushing for a moment, "Why not just announce to the crowd he's dead?"

"And have tens of thousands here at a moment's notice? We'd never get out," Farmerr replied.

"How much farther?"

"See the hallway coming up on the right with the navy blue light above it?"

"Yup."

"Go down that tunnel, two blocks down and we're there. Figure it'll take ten minutes in this crowd."

* * * *

Geo and Hatracker arrived at Merackle's Temple where there was considerable activity around the main entrance. From the snippets of conversations swirling around them, Geo thought most of the people were from the university Merackle worked out of. He called up Horaces, "What's Cleo doing?"

"They're still pushing the cart. They will arrive in five to ten minutes."

Geo went around the corner and stopped short, almost losing his footing. Pools of water and piles of bricks blocked the way. Down the hallway, people were placing cardboard forms on the rough cut hallway floor and pouring liquid hardcarbon into the forms to solidify. Sputtering, he rang up Horaces, "What's going on here?"

"Construction projects," Horaces responded.

Geo started formulating a plan. "Bring as many carts as you can find to this intersection right now."

"Okay."

"We can block off the intersection, build up the crowd, perhaps gain some time to get out of here."

Hatracker and Archey joined Geo who explained what they were going to do.

Archey grinned, "What's next?"

Startled by the impact his voice had on him, Geo took a hard look at Archey, who was dressed in a simple brown robe. "Make sure the workers keep working, move your people into the area, block off the corners, we don't want people getting through."

"Consider it done." Archey walked over to the street pavers who capped off the poured sections and moved their work site to block the street. He built a wall of people and carts to keep the crowd from getting through.

Geo went inside the temple past the front room with Merackle's chair and table. Makeshift structures met his gaze. He heard children playing on the half-built balconies and ramps. If it ever was completed, it would be a remarkable place to grow up in. "Horaces, have you any knowledge of this construction activity?"

"We don't know what Merackle is doing. He works alone."

Geo went back outside to check on the street pavers. The side street being paved was closed off. Archey and a group of students were in the middle of the intersection, blocking the roadway.

Geo crossed the roadway and climbed the stairs to a second story balcony where he had a better view of the street. He called Horaces, "I can see them bringing Merackle down the roadway."

"There are government agents following in the crowd," Horaces informed him.

He went back down to the street and met the makeshift caravan.

"You have a plan yet?" Cleo arched her back and stretched her arms.

"Half a plan," Geo replied.

They moved Merackle into his temple.

Farmerr took a look at the crowd filling up the space in front of Merackle's Temple. _Donovan, you need to get over here right away._

I'm helping Thor track the bad guys, what do you need?

For a start, a way out of here.

On my way.

"I've just been in touch with Donovan, he'll help us get Merackle out of here," Farmerr told everyone.

"Who?" Geo asked.

"Donovan the Brain, he's a canister who works for the BodyServers. It's an inside can joke, Donovan's Brain." Farmerr took a look at the escape route Geo was plotting. "Horaces, can you get a medium size whirly in here through a back entrance."

"Yes, we can park one close to where you are."

Farmerr grunted, set his wand on speaker, "Listen Donovan, Merackle needs medical care without anyone knowing."

"Way ahead of you. You need to remember no one can know what happens to Merackle after he gets fixed up," Donovan said.

"Yeah, we got that memo," Geo replied.

"He was scanned by some BodyServers who paid him a visit earlier today. His body is cooked. He waited too long. The frickin dirt on this planet got to him, he's dead." Donovan explained.

"That's pretty crude." Geo wasn't smiling. "We need to get a whirly within a block of where we are. We can get him through this tunnel to a larger hallway where the whirly will be waiting."

"What's your plan after that?" Donovan asked.

"We're working on it," Cleo replied, "Have you got any ideas where we can take Merackle?"

"DogLand. It's all being arranged now, including your implant," Donovan said.

"My implant?" Cleo gasped. "Who said anything about an implant?" Looking for something to drink, she asked Hector to find some real coffee. Frowning she asked Horaces, "Do I truly need an implant I don't want?"

"You will need it to help us help you."

"Swell."

"Absolutely free, no installation costs."

"A joke, you're really loosening up there, Horaces," Farmerr quipped.

"Forget the implants. We have to get Merackle away safely," Cleo was annoyed.

"Easy now," Geo smiled, "I think you're going to need that implant."

"Merackle must disappear without anyone looking for him afterwards," Donovan reminded them.

"We know!" Voices rang out.

Farmerr looked at Cleo, who sighed deeply.

"We have to remove Merackle from his underground temple with all kinds of people outside waiting for free tickets." Sight Shifter shook his head, "It's been suggested that he looks like he meets with a permanent accident. We need ideas. Anyone seen any slick dreams lately?"

"How about an explosion?" Hector asked.

Geo shook his head. "Sounds too risky, he has to come out alive."

"Make it a fake explosion," Hector said.

"How would we do that?" Geo asked.

"Maybe in an empty hangar with smoke bombs. Escape through a hole in the floor." Hector left the room and started looking for natural coffee or a frementator to make some coffee.

"I got it. We make the whirly explode after we take Merackle out. We can hide him in a repair pit, maybe even take him out through a maintenance tunnel?" Geo scanned everyone's faces for approval.

"How would anyone know he was in the whirly?" Cleo asked.

"Horaces can tell the world he was in it," Farmerr answered. "Bring him to the spaceport. Have the accident where everyone can see it. Horaces, can you make sure government agents are waiting to take him into protective custody? We'll need a hangar with a big storm drain."

"Fake bombs, rigged to look like it exploded, that might work," Cleo said.

Farmerr called Donovan back. "We'll be ready to hand Merackle over fairly soon. Horaces will tell you where to pick him up."

"We'll be waiting. Make sure Cleo is going to DogLand." Donovan signed off.

"Let's get Merackle out of here,"Farmerr spoke to everyone. "Geo, get the whirly as close as you can. We'll tell the crowd Merackle is in the back room and Herkimer is Merackle's new representative. Herkimer, you have control of his new products so you get to hand out free tickets and vouchers to everyone out there. Make the crowd happy, you're the new miracle man."

"Do you know where the tickets are Archey?" Sight Shifter asked.

Archey disappeared through a back hallway and came back pulling a cart stacked tall with bulging boxes filled with tickets. "There's plenty more back there. I'll help hand them out. That will get the crowd going. Add to the confusion."

Greenie looked at the tickets and then at Herkimer with a mischievous smile on her face. These have return tickets with them. "You think ya grabbed the wrong boxes Archey?"

"No worries, we're doing the right thing." A radiant smile lit up his face.

Hector came back empty handed from looking for coffee.

"Congratulations, we're using your idea. Help move Merackle, we're leaving now. I'll be waiting at the whirly." Geo called Horaces, "Is the whirly ready?"

"It will meet you at the spot indicated on the map," Horaces answered.

"Have you ever done something like this before, Horaces?" Cleo asked.
"Not exactly."

"Horaces, is that supposed to be a joke?" Farmerr grinned.

They took Merackle out a side doorway where the view was blocked by strategically placed street pavers and supply carts. It took ten minutes to carefully transport Merackle down the back hallways to where Geo was waiting for the whirly to arrive. Merackle had recovered a bit, although he was still pretty weak. He struggled to thank them, waving aside their help when it was offered.

When the whirly arrived, they had an unexpected surprise. It was a sleek private vehicle, all engine with only enough room for two people and someone was already in the driver's seat.

Cleo looked at the driver closely, "It's a dummy."

"Very realistic," Geo sounded satisfied.

"Why? Is Merackle going in this?" Hector asked.

"It's complicated," Geo explained. "Horaces worked it out with the BodyServers. Merackle will sit in the passenger seat of his personal whirly. Donovan will fly the whirly to one of Merackle's private hangars where he will meet up with some BodyServers who will take Merackle to DogLand. While the whirly is there, it'll be loaded up with raw foam ingredients which Merackle has stored there that can be made to explode. Donovan will then fly the whirly to a very public location where it blows up."

Hector was admiring the interior of Merackle's ride, "Look how it's been customized, probably cost a fortune. Shame to blow it up." When he brushed against the dummy, he jumped back. "It's cold and clammy feeling."

"The BodyServers just printed it up fresh. It's not alive but it has Merackle's DNA and bits and pieces of organ cells and teeth. Kinda like salami. It gets blown up in the spaceport hangar in front of witnesses."

"Where's Donovan?" Sight Shifter asked.

Geo pointed to a dull black upright canister with gray wheels, "Over there."

"Took you long enough to get here." The canister rolled to where Sight Shifter was standing and snaked out a rubberized tentacle to shake his hand. Sight Shifter offered his hand and Donovan snapped his tentacle back, laughing at Sight Shifter's surprise. "That's right, and here comes another one." Waving his other tentacle around, he rolled closer. "Tell me, does my magic shell stop you from seeing where I've been?" He was still laughing after Sight Shifter's mouth opened and closed. "This is what Merackle is going to become. A canned brain. He knew this was coming someday, you don't need to worry about it. I personally am a canned ham, while Eddy is a race can driver. Him and Thor love to chase down wheelers."

"It's a pretty complex scheme, you think it's gonna work?" Cleo asked.

"We'll have to chance it," Donovan answered. "The explosion is a nice touch, but explosions don't happen anymore and whirlys almost never crash in the heart of the united networks territory. We have to convince people that the impossible has happened. I'll drive, so it'll appear its being manually driven. After I get to the Artificial Currents hangar, the whirly explodes and I'll drop into the drain which Horaces will lock down so I can't possibly be followed. This is going to blow up in our faces if we can't make it believable. Let's get this show on the road. You guys leave in the whirly you came in. And not a word to anyone about talking canisters lending a helping hand. No one needs to know. We like our privacy. Good luck, see you later." Donovan clambered into Merackle's whirly next to the printed body and then they helped Merackle into the passenger seat. "And don't be late." Donovan took off with a wave of his claw.

Sight Shifter stared at the custom whirly, marveling at how it flew down the narrow alleyway. The others started back towards Merackle's Temple to see how Greenie, Herkimer, and Archey were doing with the tickets. The pavers had worked their way back from the corner a short distance, so they went around front where there was a boisterous crowd happily waiting for tickets.

"We've got to get going, Cleo has to get to DogLand." Geo gave Greenie a hug. "We'll catch up with you later. I hope this works."

"Don't worry, it's a good plan." Farmerr alerted the other Sippers in the area that they could leave their lookout posts and go back to the demonstration at the medical mall.

While they were walking back to the whirly parked on the ledge, Cleo rang up Horaces. "Are the agents waiting for Merackle?"

"Plenty of agents. We sent them a tip, they couldn't wait to check it out."

"Can you distract them somehow? Is there a gambling program on their wands?"

"They have access to a private casino operation on their wands that's just for government employees. It's used to make payouts to bribe them."

"Who do you bribe?" Cleo's voice wavered.

"People who we want to do good things."

"Can you deal the cards, Horaces?"

"We can do better than that. We control the program."

"What are you, bribery incorporated?"

"Every paycheck is a bribe to stop people from asking where the money comes from."

"I've heard enough. Can you give them a profitable run of luck to keep them from paying too much attention?"

"Changes in program completed," Horaces reported. "The escape drain is being assembled under the landing pad. We just received news that a high-ranking member of Prezz's staff will also be there."

"Who would that be?" Cleo asked.

"Vicey Mars," Horaces replied.

"How long have you known this!" Sight Shifter shouted.

"Just found out about it," Horaces replied.

"Who told you?" Sight Shifter angrily demanded.

"We have eyes and ears everywhere."

"I don't believe you," Sight Shifter blurted out.

"How else would we know?" Horaces asked.

"Maybe you talk to everyone," Sight Shifter countered.

"Do you want to listen to recorded conversations?" It sounded like Horaces sighed in frustration.

"How would we know you didn't make it up?" Sight Shifter could feel the hair rising on the back of his neck.

"It was recorded at the ticket counter when Vicey checked in," Horaces said.

"Just a bit of unfortunate timing that sent him in our direction?" Cleo grumbled.

"Prezz needs Merackle's foam, he's searching all over for him," Horaces almost sounded annoyed. "Some government contact, who we alerted for our trick, must of told him Merackle would be making a stop at the hangar."

"Is that so?" Cleo asked very slowly. "I still don't like the idea that he's coming to our little magic show."

"Want to join me in the black jack game? It's boring here with salami man," Donovan's voice sang out through Cleo's wand.

A thoughtful frown crossed Cleo's face, "You've done this before."

Donovan ignored the comment. "Let's join the game. Horaces, deal us in."

Instantly one of the open screens on Cleo's wand projector lit up with the game. There were five hands of Black Jack dealt out. "Are you sure this is going to work?"

"Don't worry. This is a members' only table. They can't tell who's playing, and now you're one of them. I'm gonna bet five thousand. Now make me lose, Horaces," Donovan said.

The game played out. Cleo threw her hand down. The two agents won modest wagers.

Donovan's hand lost. "Do it again, Horaces. I'll bet a thousand. Let me win." The game went around again, with modest wagers by the agents. This time one won and one lost, and Donovan won. Cleo lost again.

"Do it again, Horaces, only this time, I'll bet three thousand and lose. Get the payoffs going, that'll keep their noses in it. See how it works, Cleo?"

"You can fly a whirly, play black jack, and bribe people all at the same time," Cleo wasn't impressed.

"Yeah, and I can chase wheelers too. You'll learn the rest of the story when you get to DogLand," Donovan chuckled, wining some hands, losing others. "Maybe we could suck in Vicey if he gets there early enough. Go on, Cleo, play a few more hands. After all, this is your magic show. Then you can get your implant."

Cleo joined Geo, Hector, Sight Shifter, and Hatracker in their whirly which took them back to Upper CrossRoads.

* * * *

Farmerr, Herkimer, Greenie, Archey, Eddy, and the Sippers who had been watching over Merackle brought the tickets out to a large hallway off the cavern where Merackle made his speeches. Word quickly spread, and the tickets took off faster than a speeding rail gun slug.

Greenie stopped handing out tickets for a moment. "Herkimer, do you still want a ticket now that your life is drowning in unlimited credit?"

"I still want to get out there, don't I?" He gave her an impish smile.

"That's just swell. What's the name of the new space foam construction company you're leaving me for?"

"No idea. Eddy, you got a good name for my new company?"

"I was talking it over with Thor, and he said your new business is called Thor's Construction Company. And don't forget to create a free taxi service between Earth and EarthPort station so we won't need no stinkin tickets to get out there."

"The tickets are all gone, we're going to Sight Shifter's now!" Herkimer exclaimed.

Thor and Eddy took off through the crowd.

"Where are they going?" Herkimer asked.

"Thor wants the whole front seat so he can look out all the windows," Greenie winked at Herkimer.

"Is he also driving?" Herkimer looked at Greenie, who shrugged her shoulders.

"Thor can if he wants to, but he prefers to stick his head out the window," she laughed at the confused look on Herkimer's face. Greenie wistfully looked around, wondering if she would be coming back to the caverns now that Merackle was gone.

Walking to Greenie's candy emerald green whirly, Herkimer was still promising tickets and better living quarters to anyone who asked. Archey took the driver's seat. Herkimer, Greenie, and Farmerr got in the back seat. Eddy sat next to Archey, Thor took the window seat.

**Chapter 26 Office Space in Elevator City**

Prezz was finding out that traveling to Free Space was easy, but getting his people organized around him was entirely out of his control. The red tape, lack of housing, and everybody wanting a pay boost to match the orbit they'd be living in all took a toll on his efforts. He couldn't understand how anyone could complain about his ideas when he had personally worked out all the details by himself. Start to finish.

It hadn't taken long to get the first group of five hundred together that took off with him. They went straight to the EarthPort space station, the largest Earth orbiting harbor in Free Space, home of Elevator City. Most of the first group had paid Prezz to get a place on the clipper party ship he had leased. Even though the berths were oversold, making it standing room only, that didn't matter, everyone was there for a good time. The general consensus was that they would party while someone else fought the space monsters.

The EarthPort station measured eight miles long and one mile in diameter. The inside of the huge cylinder was wall to wall buildings, many with transparent domes which provided a panoramic view of the ships docked on the rooftops throughout the station. Only the wealthiest people parked their personal craft inside the station. All other craft parked outside the station at remote docking areas. The grand concourse was packed with concert halls, open bars, private clubs, theme diners, restaurants, cinemas, live action theaters, and museums. From art galleries and huge chain malls to the tiniest shops, each one unique, everything needed could be found at the station. Every kind of park imaginable plus the spacious outdoor areas connected by wide walkways made the station one of the most popular places in Free Space.

Smiling, Prezz walked over to the bay window taller than he was, admiring the view from his newest hotel. He didn't need to live in exclusive communities or gated areas set aside for executives and others who lived in or were visiting the station on company business. Looking down the length of the tubular station, the circular horizon was lined with clusters of buildings that turned into a crystalline sky with a ball of light in the center.

Three hundred men and women of Prezz's personal bodyguard took up positions in the local waterholes and cafes around the grand Elevator Hotel he was staying in, which covered four city blocks in Elevator City, the corporate headquarters of the Space Elevator Company. It was a key part of his plan; a fact unknown to Vicey, who had booked the reservations. The giant, slow moving canisters, nicknamed space elevators, trucked supplies, raw resources, and monstrous amounts of carbon up from Earth and tons of space products back down to Earth. They were giant cylinders without rocket engines slowly moving through space, able to transport massive payloads using very little energy. Once inside the Earth's atmosphere they used mag ore powered motors to take off and land.

The remaining forty-seven hundred members of the shipless navy continued leaving for EarthPort, wave after wave stacking up with nowhere to go. Combined with the exodus of Merackle's free ticket holders, it soon became a tidal wave of people washing through the station. Once there, everyone fanned out to every available hotel, motel, hostel, lobby, office building, even factory lounges, anywhere in the station with available accommodations, even if it was only a place to sit. The bulk of the space navy was just standing around or sitting down because there just weren't enough space vehicles, let alone ships, in the immediate area for the entire navy to be put on board as space marshals.

Prezz had packed all the contents of his Earth offices and brought it all up in one move. It was taking some time to set everything back up in his new luxurious accommodations, but he could live with that. He wondered how badly operations back on Earth would suffer without his micromanaging. As the afternoon wore on, the confusion following the move grew increasingly chaotic. Finally, most of his communication systems were up and working. They had enough links to keep him connected to all his teams but he had no idea where they were unless they were standing in front of him.

Off in the distance, he watched an orange-striped space shuttle being rolled onto a boarding dock in the central core. Only the most valuable products would be loaded on shuttles inside the station or a big shot who didn't want to board on the outside of the station. It required more work to launch from inside the station. An airship had to tow the shuttle over to a triple airlock. The normal launch procedure used pads mounted on ball-bearing tracks on the outside of the rotating space station, these created stationary platforms for shuttles to land and take off from.

The government's commercial shuttle fleet was respectable. Sixty-seven ships, although none of them were able to fight off armed attackers. They were strictly for carrying as much cargo as cheaply as possible. There were bigger fleets in private hands. Some of them were armed, but no one knew if their weapons would be effective against giant alien attack ships using unknown technology.

The fact that his people weren't on every ship bothered him. He wanted his presence on all the ships in space. Unfortunately, that wasn't going to happen any time soon, he'd have to settle for having only two or three people on any size craft that would accept them. Maybe the rest of them could get jobs as taxi drivers. He laughed. He'd show them. No taxes in space? He laughed again. Eventually there'd be a need for maintaining common infrastructures, the same fate which befell pirate ports of the eighteenth century. No matter how much anyone hated government, eventually it evolved. No one wanted to do every job needed to be done. Once they were handed the keys, governments knew how to gain the upper hand and keep it locked up forever. And if they had to give it up, only their best of friends were on the recipient list. With his fearless business experience he could checkmate anyone in short order.

He walked over to his antique chestnut desk and arranged his pens. "Silky, how is the situation with our friends running the space elevators?"

"They're sleeping with the asteroids."

"Excellent."

"Got some good news, I located the smugglers who got those crazy ruby laser rods. They work out of the Cheeters Bar on the moon. There's supposed to be an auction tonight. They also got other shapes for sale."

"I hate bidding, is that the only way?" Prezz complained.

"They're very cagey and well connected. Best to follow the rules. You can afford it."

"Oh, all right. How we doing on getting everyone up here by the end of the day?"

"Everything worked exactly like Vicey figured. We timed the flight reservations perfectly, most ships weren't chartered, including the government's commercial shuttle fleet, we enlisted all of them to carry our people up. They were happy to help out. The bad news is that even tripling up on rooms, there are no more vacancies in the immediate vicinity and plenty of people still looking for a place to stay," Silky said.

"We'll need building foam starting immediately. Did you make arrangements with Merackle?"

"Merackle is dead."

"What!" Prezz roared.

"Details are still sketchy, but apparently he died in a shuttle crash a short time ago. The Justice Machines said it was an accident."

"Damn!" Prezz repeatedly smacked his fist into his hand. "I needed him! Damn! His fantastic speeches were packing space with people, now we got to do that all by ourselves."

Prezz was silent for a moment, taking in this change of events. "Silky, can we seize control of his holdings? Who has control of the building foam? We need to prioritize. We need to build fortresses for all the people who are going to pay us to follow me up here."

"We can't build foam forts without Merackle."

"What do we know about Merackle's holdings?"

"He signed some of his holdings over to BodyServers and other things, like the foam, to an apparent stranger. The documents have already been filed for them to take control."

"An apparent stranger?" Prezz demanded.

"Yeah, just some guy."

"Push him over the edge. Squeeze all the foam out of him. We'll need every bit of foam to make the cheap housing. Investigate BodyServers to the fullest. Find their weak spots. And speaking of housing, can we put our people on the Moon? Is there enough room there?"

"Definitely, the Moon would be an excellent base to work from. People are growing palm trees, all sorts of Weedy trees, even plantations, and they're building new living spaces all the time. Plenty of water."

"How is our plan working out?"

"We rode a wave of confusion to take over Elevator City, and it's not getting any better. People are literally piling up everywhere, and we only have one ship, a party clipper, that's permanently tied up at the dock," Silky answered.

"Anyone actually attacking anything?"

"The main Apollos mining station was blown up today. Supposedly a miner named Jersey did it. We're still not sure how it happened," Silky said.

"Isn't he the one who ruined the executive brunch at the Apollos mining station this morning?" Prezz didn't hide the annoyance in his voice.

"That's him."

"I've got a meeting with him later today. How do you suppose he got to Elevator City so fast? He was on a mining station out past Mars this morning."

"You think he's trying to cash in on our deal here?" Silky asked.

"I don't know."

"Do you think he knows the Dreaming News stories showing the attacks on the mining ships are fake?"

"I don't know that either. For now, we'll pretend we're needed where we are, even if we're not. Can the mining operations protect themselves?"

"We don't know. They're all spread out once you get past the Moon. Remember it takes a month to get to Mars and even longer to get to the farthest mining zones in the asteroid patch."

"So that's a no, huh?" Prezz imagined a new series of stories for Yawrack.

"You want me to hang around?"

"I'll be okay, you can watch on the monitors." Prezz used his ego for protection.

"Vicey should be arriving shortly. He was there when Merackle died."

"Oh?"

"You know he's not on board with screwing the Sippers over?" Silky reminded Prezz.

"He'll come around to our way of thinking," there was no doubt in Prezz's voice.

Silky signed off. Prezz called Yawrack at Dreaming News. "Tell me everything about the Merackle disaster."

"He was an eccentric genius, apparently carrying all kinds of strange materials in his personal shuttle. He was so rich no one bothered him. He could pave over any mistake he made with as much money as it took. He came and went as he pleased," Yawrack said.

"I wanted him to work for me." Prezz blinked a couple of times. "I don't believe for one second his death was accidental. I needed that man."

"The Justice Machines are never wrong."

"They are this time. Run a story for me, okay? Say that the prestigious CrossRoads Sight Shifter Detective Agency and Cleo Monytazer of the illustrious CrossRoads SpacePort administration are going to investigate his murder. We'll catch whoever did it, and maybe I can block the transference of Merackle's holdings if we say it was murder."

"We'll get on it right away."

"That'll teach 'em." Prezz cut the connection, a triumphant smirk on his face.

* * * *

It had only taken a couple of hours for Jersey, Ursa, and the miners to travel from the mining station to EarthPort using the retrofitted alien mining ship.

The ship was too big to park anywhere except at the very end of the remote docking area. On the far side of EarthPort, Jersey and Ursa met with some of the Space Navy officers with real space time service under their belts. Ursa convinced the officers they would be better off working for themselves under the flag of the Free Space Navy. She guaranteed them they would have their own ships and a share in the loot from the Apollos mining station. All they needed to do was promise not to announce their joining the Free Space Navy until Jersey got back from his visit with Prezz.

Jersey and Ursa took a taxi to the Elevator Hotel. National Navy personnel and private guards were all over the lobby of the hotel. "Are there always this many guards?" Jersey asked some agents blocking the entrance to one of the restaurants.

"This is all because of the alien invaders."

Ursa and Jersey stepped aside for two sailors trying to enter the restaurant but the guards stopped the sailors. "Stay out of the lobbies and restaurants. You've got your orders."

"We're hungry. There's hardly any decent food left, mostly just cheap frementator junk."

"Stay out of the restaurants in Elevator City. Paying customers need to sit down."

"What about you? Can you go inside?"

"We paid for our commissions. Move along now."

Jersey and Ursa exchanged glances. Once past the guards, she said, "Told you it would be easy. They've only got around fifteen hundred paid members. Most of the other thirty-five hundred are unhappy campers. They've got no ships and no place to stay."

"Have we got enough room for them."

"My people can modify our ship to fit everyone on board, and we can get more ships."

"Sure is a monster ship, you never told me where your people got it from?"

"The short version is, we borrowed it."

"Ha, you stole it, tell me about it after I get back from talking to Prezz."

"You sure you're okay going in alone?"

"My personal foot cannon is fully loaded."

"And if you need oxygen?" Ursa asked.

"You're nuts. I'll be okay."

"You got the audio patch to put on an outside window?"

"If he's got a window, I've got the patch. I know what I'm doing. Well, maybe," grinning, he got up from the table. "I'll be back." The oxygen crack bothered Jersey. If he was forced to use his foot cannon, he wasn't wearing his spacesuit, but what could he do.

He went over to the main contingent of private guards and told them he had an appointment with Prezz. They called the bodyguards, who took Jersey to an exit where they entered a hallway with a moving walkway which took them outside the hotel. From there, they took a taxi out to the edge of the rotating city where the stationary areas without gravity where located. There was a weapons check detail at the entrance to the platform area. The guards frisked Jersey and ran a wand up and down his body. It went crazy when it came close to his foot. Jersey smiled, "It's okay. I had a mining accident, it's a cheap replacement foot."

"Thought they made those out of synthetic materials? Where'd you get it? Mars?"

"Way out past Mars," Jersey joked. They let him through with a chorus of laughter.

They took an elevator down through the station floor and transferred outside to the buildings on the stationary hubs of the rotating cylinders.

The door closed, Jersey felt himself rising. "Hang on to the railing," one of the uniformed agents said. They continued up, and when the elevator came to a stop, he was glad he was holding onto the rail; they were out in the zero gravity area.

The door opened and they floated into a hallway. They strapped themselves into a cart. It took off down the hallway, took a left turn, went down five doors, and then stopped at a door with a sign which read: Private Observation Dome Number Three. They opened the door and pulled themselves through using a handrail. Prezz floated around the middle of the room. The domed ceiling was transparent. Jersey could see Earth, the Moon, plenty of stars, and a number of small craft cruising by.

"Great view," remarked Jersey.

"Come on in." Prezz tuned in a view of the wrecked Apollos mining station on one of the screens which stretched around the room. "If you don't mind, I prefer the view from here. They didn't tell me the best view in the house doesn't have gravity. The real view of the heavens is so much sharper through real windows compared to virtual ones."

Jersey laughed. He knew the feeling. "I suppose you can see asteroids from here?"

"Asteroids? No way. Never. Asteroids are the things that will knock us out of the skies." Prezz waved his arms. "Those stupid fools from Black Horse told me a big asteroid is going to come boiling through here in a couple of months. Maybe later. Hah, they can't scare me. We have engines on this baby. We can move out of the way." Prezz sneered at Jersey. "But that's not why you're here. I'm amazed you're still in business after that fiasco at the mining station this morning. Lucky to be alive, from what I hear."

"It was interesting."

"I have complete control of the space elevator traffic," Prezz jeered. "We're going to ship everything through here. I can't imagine how rich I'm gonna be."

Jersey smiled, waiting for Prezz to get around to the reason for the meeting.

"I hear your buddies have exclusive control of the foam business. It's time you got your act in gear. Start sending tons of raw materials here and build me foam ball communities which will fill up the empty real estate around these stations." Prezz drifted to the dome wall, watching a couple of shuttles slowly cruise by. "We have plans for building fuel stations, factories, mining stations, and a ring of comfortable living quarters orbiting Earth, just like the one we're in now. Even orbiting health and pleasure spas are on the drawing board. Where do you plan to locate?" Prezz played with weights chained to a post.

"Circling Earth, the Moon, Mars, Phobos, Deimos, anywhere in Free Space we care to go."

"You'll need plenty of security, which we'll be happy to provide. We'll control the politics. We plan to corner the market, and when they realize they need a government out here, I'll be their man," a crooked smile crossed his face. "Have you made any deals yet?"

Jersey shrugged noncommittally.

"My god, man, we've been screwing around in space for decades now. Don't you think it's time to get some government out here? Cover every acre with domes, import palm trees, carve your name on them. Personally, I'm thinking of becoming a god out here after I retire." Prezz floated lazily on his back and then flipped over and faced Jersey. He brought up the alien ship on a screen. "That's a mighty impressive ship you've got. How'd you get here so fast?"

"We do all right."

"Got any more like it?"

"Maybe," Jersey said it like of course there were more ships.

Prezz did a back flip in the zero gravity. "Getting hold of those Space Elevators was pretty slick." He looked like he expected a pat on the back.

Jersey wanted to give him a kick in the butt. "We're planning a free taxi service from here to Earth. You'll need a worker's pass to get a free ride."

Prezz jerked his head around. "My lab boys tell me that energy weapons made with low gee additives will outperform any weapon on Earth. Did you know that no one is building weapons up here? That's one thing I'm changing fast. With this zero gee stuff, we can make anything we want. Got any ideas how we can build a super magnet out here to power all the mag ore products?"

Jersey performed some acrobatic moves of his own. Gliding up to one the corners where the panels met, he attached the transparent audio patch to a lower window. Then he did a back flip and glided back around to where Prezz was floating.

"My people tell me the useable magnetic fields barely extend past the troposphere on Earth. The industrial zones orbiting the earth need all the free power they can get. You have to use old-fashioned power systems here, and it's all decentralized. Anyway, that's for the future. In a couple of months, I will rule the whole Earth from here, and the rest of Free Space after that." Prezz rolled head over heels. "That's not for publication."

Jersey took one last shot at Prezz. "You interested in buying some magic ruby glasses? They can make power from nothing."

_Don't be foolin around. I'm hungry, and don't get excited, no one else can hear us._ Ursa chided Jersey.

"Wise guy, huh? We can knock you out of the sky anytime we want. Your docked ship is a sitting duck. I happen to have executive knowledge, you can't beat that."

"Don't know where you got your facts from, but I wouldn't try anything if I were you."

"You think you can challenge us?"

"Everyone's going to challenge you and your corporations."

"I'll show you what we can do. You have fifteen minutes to get everyone off your barge out there, then I'm going to blow it up. After we drop a chakramjet mine on your ship, you're finished. Come in, shuttle defense two, come in, Prezz speaking. Blow that ship up," He sneered at Jersey, "You got fifteen minutes to empty your ship wise guy."

Jersey just floated in place, with a Cheshire cat grin lighting up his face.

Prezz tensely watched his shuttle approach the alien mining ship. "You think this a joke! We rule space now, don't you forget it." He brought up a screen which showed the shuttle maneuvering over the docked alien mining ship.

Jersey imagined a flea approaching a giant whale.

"Shuttle defense two, come in now. It's Prezz, pick up." He looked nervous and was starting to sweat.

Jersey was effortlessly swinging on the exercise bars. _You sure he can't touch us, Ursa?_

Unless he plans on blowing up the whole station, he can't hurt anyone. I told you, if the ship is not moving, the hull is absolutely impenetrable. You don't think he would kill himself to prove a point do you?

_Would you miss me?_ Jersey grinned. He heard her laughing.

I told you. If the station goes, we all go.

He could always shoot me if it doesn't work.

I'm not worried. I've seen what you could do with that foot. I think he's calling you.

"Hey you! I'm talking to you, watch this." Prezz pointed to the screen.

Jersey watched the shuttle come in low over the alien ship; it dropped a pulsating chakramjet mine onto the ship's upper deck. The moment the shuttle fired its engines full thrust to get away, a very long utility cable tipped with a short metal shaft shot out from the alien ship and harpooned the shuttle, causing it to nose dive into the hull. It then disengaged the cable, letting the shuttle tumble end over end down the length of the alien hull. Finally coming to a rest, a bit dented, engines out. He had been watching Prezz out of the corner of his eye. He was livid, his hands bunched up in fists.

That mine's gonna explode, Ursa. Can you get those guys out of there?

Already on it, you're so slow.

A mega shuttle pulled up to the wrecked shuttle; space suited figures popped out, quickly started going through the smashed shuttle, pulling people out, and got them on the rescue craft. They were all wearing suits. Jersey sighed loud enough for Ursa to hear him.

Yeah, it was close for them, never for us.

You'll always be close to me.

The chakramjet mine continued to slowly roll towards the abandoned wrecked shuttle until it stopped and just sat there. The minutes ticked by and then there was a tremendous explosion. Nothing else was damaged because the alien ship was moored to the farthest point on the docking platforms. There was no sign of damage, not even a scuffmark.

"Hey you!" Prezz looked like he was going to start screaming, his temples were bulging, his eyes blinking furiously. Suddenly he calmed down. "You can go now." Prezz was looking outside the dome, his fists clenched by his sides, wondering if the whole world knew about the secret of those damn ruby glass rods.

Jersey made his way to the door laughing so hard it hurt. A guard opened the door from the outside. Another guard was waiting outside the door, floating at attention. He made his way back to the restaurant where Ursa was waiting for him.

**Chapter 27 A Farmerr's Tale**

Sight Shifter, Hatracker, Geo, and Hector made their way to Sight Shifter's personal office where the meteoroid was sitting in its packing crate nest.

"So this is the infamous meteoroid which turned our world upside down this morning." Geo leaned on it, taking a closer look at the deeply pitted surface covered with jagged raised areas and deep gouges, some sections chipped smooth, others with rough grainy surfaces. "It's not smooth and shiny like I thought it would be."

"That's because it never burned up in the Earth's atmosphere," Hatracker pointed out.

"I'll call Farmerr and see how the tickets are going," Sight Shifter said.

Farmerr told him there must've been ten thousand tickets in those crates, but now they're all gone and they'd be joining them shortly.

* * * *

Archey used Greenie's high priority parking clearance to get a space near Sight Shifter's office. Feeling like conspirators, they got out of the vehicle and quickly headed for the office with Thor out in front, careful to keep everyone in sight at all times. Eddy was traveling around the group's perimeter, sometimes leading and other times lagging.

Sight Shifter met them at the office's front door. Once inside, Herkimer stopped to look at the multilevel aquarium with fountain pools and turtles swimming around in them. "These are all very rare turtles, who takes care of them?" He was trying to pick up a turtle, which easily avoided him but kept coming back expecting a snack.

"There are special crews at the SpacePort who manage all the live fountains. The animals' medical needs are taken care of by BodyServers." Sight Shifter pointed at the upper levels of the fountain where there were more pools, rock outcroppings, and Weedy bushes, "Up there, we have small monitor lizards. They all know what their names are and can add and subtract up to a hundred. At feeding time, they know if they were short changed any bugs or worms."

"My office is up this way." They followed Sight Shifter up the stairs.

The guards were still watching the meteoroid which had launched Prezz into space. Everyone arranged comfortable chairs around a large table in the spacious lobby outside of Sight Shifter's office. Sight Shifter told the guards watching over the meteoroid to hang out in the main lobby in the lower level, and not answer any questions about who or what was inside the office.

Hatracker put a couple of newsfeeds up on the virtual windows which ringed the walls. According to the Dreaming News, they were watching the National Space Navy Expeditionary Force, which was mostly just milling around, flooding the hotels, parks, restaurants, food courts, and bars; anywhere a person could hang out. There was one large clipper ship which the Dreaming News proclaimed to be the first National Space Navy vessel to attack the invaders. What they failed to mention was that it was the only ship under Prezz's control, and was filled by the most corporately connected members of the government's naval space forces. Yawrack was going all out for the show and had sent Dreaming News camera crews to get live shots for their fake news productions.

Next up was the story of Merackle's mysterious crash at the spaceport. It was reported that the Justice Machines had already tabulated the results of their investigation; the verdict was death by misadventure. Thanks to Herkimer's spur of the moment plan to give away all of the tickets they had found, the spaceport was buzzing with thousands of people trying to get a place to live and work in Free Space.

Sight Shifter and Hatracker pulled a couple of chairs over to the meteoroid where they could get a better look at the tales it had to tell. Hatracker put the latest Dreaming News show on the big screen and brought up more newsfeeds on the virtual windows.

Farmerr stepped forward. "I'm going to call one of my sisters who hangs out in Free Space, her name is Ursa Rigel. She's keeping a close eye on Prezz up there in Elevator City, so we'll know what he's up to."

"How many sisters do you have?" Herkimer asked.

"Would you believe I'm from a big family?" Farmerr grinned.

"I heard that," Ursa's voice blurted out of the wand. "Hey, what about Merackle? You gonna get away with that fiasco?"

"I hope so. Do you know what Prezz is up to? We need to step up our timetable. We can't hide in the shadows any longer," Farmerr replied.

Everyone leaned forward to hear every word being said.

"I'm way ahead of you guys, I'd give your shin a swift kick if you were within reach. You think I can't handle this?" Ursa's voice wasn't asking.

"Just making sure. We've got a few hang ups down here and too many loose ends which aren't coming together. Is Prezz a threat up there?" Farmerr asked.

"Their clipper is harmless. They can't even fire a laser canon unless the cargo bay hatch cover is open. I can have our modified mining ship with a human crew take it apart at a moment's notice. The bad news is he's got complete control of the Space Elevator Company, and I don't know what else he's got his hooks into."

"You said you have a human crew?"

"Yeah, led by a miner named Jersey. He wound up with the implant the new Apollos mining station manager who was working with us was supposed to get. As things turned out, Jersey brought down the mining station by himself, so here we are," Ursa said.

"How did that happen?"

"There was a slight disagreement about how the mining station was going to be run. It's a little banged up now. Short story is, the execs were going to abandon the station, get on a clipper with all the ore they looted from us, and leave the miners behind. I stepped in and gave the miners the run of our mining ship. They're quick learners. The modified auto pilot program is barely running for now. We can't keep hacking the ship's programing. We're going to have to fix it at some point."

"Do you know what the National Space Navy is going to do?"

"Got that nailed down. Earlier we met with a group of real Space Navy commanders. They were really pissed off that Prezz was appointing all his cronies as admirals to lord over them. Plus, all the politically connected stooges on the only ship they got ship are partying like there's no tomorrow. After a gigantic invisible spaceship suddenly appeared directly in front of them at the docks and I promised them their own ships and a share of the ore, the sailors were falling all over each other to get on board a real ship. We've got the same problem Prezz has, too many people, not enough seats. They don't have to know it's only a mining ship, but we do need to modify more of them. We can easily do what we did to the first ship. The others can be ready in a few days."

"No one recognized the ship?"

"The newsfeed pictures of our ships are so far off, no one would ever know it was the same ship. By the way, who thought up the stunt of Merackle blowing up in his own whirly?" Ursa asked.

"Come on, it was a good plan. Merackle signed up a new person to represent him, Herkimer. He seems like a nice guy. Greenie really likes him, she won't let go of him."

"Does he know who she is?" Ursa asked.

Herkimer looked over at Greenie, who motioned it was nothing.

"It doesn't matter, they get along fine," Farmerr said.

"When Jersey went over to see Prezz, he tried to blow up our ship. Naturally he failed. We planted a bug on his outside dome window. We'll check it later."

"Keep in touch."

"See you later, alligator."

"Bye."

Everyone started talking at once. Thor started barking to shut everyone up.

"Just what are you guys up to!" Geo demanded.

"Human crews? Who is this Jersey fellow? And what's going on out there at the mining stations?" Sight Shifter was starting to put two and two together, and it wasn't anywhere close to four. "Invisible ships, we saw them in the meteoroid. Who exactly are you, and where do you come from?"

"I never heard of invisible mining ships, what mining company do you work for?" Sounding confused, Herkimer looked at Greenie, "What do you know about this?"

There was a blank look on her face for a moment. "Ursa's my sister, and I know a few BodyServer secrets, and some, umm, things about the mining operations."

Farmerr started laughing. "I know, it's all too much at once. But no worries, we're all on the same side."

Sight Shifter put his hands on the meteoroid like he was reading a crystal ball. "We're not worried. We just don't understand what's happening. Maybe you could explain it better. Start with the mining business."

Hatracker started pacing around, "Damn right it's confusing."

"Are aliens attacking the mining operations?" Herkimer sharply asked.

"No, it's the other way around," Farmerr calmly stated. "A group of mining executives are attacking alien mining operations which are being done for your benefit. If Sight Shifter and Hatracker would take another look at the meteoroid, we might see what really happened. What do you say, Sight Shifter? And what's your real name, if you don't mind telling us. But do take another look at the meteoroid, you missed some important details there."

"My name is Seldom Mars, and we will be glad to take another look," Sight Shifter quietly answered.

"Seldom Mars!" A cry of surprise echoed throughout the room.

"You can't be from the Mars family!" Geo was shocked.

"It's true. There's not much I can do about it, sometimes you have no choice in the matter of who will be your brother."

Geo looked straight at Sight Shifter, "Does Vicey Mars knows what we're doing?"

"I only told him what I saw in the meteoroid."

Farmerr broke in. "Like everyone else, Vicey Mars only thinks he knows what's happening. We thought it would be possible for us to stay out of sight, but obviously that plan is now dead and buried. None of us really knows what's going to happen next."

"All right, let's see what we can see." Sight Shifter sat in the chair staring at the meteoroid. Hatracker also sat down and intently squinted at another spot, slowly moving his eyes over the surface, stopping here and there, most of the time shaking his head. Everyone except Thor and Eddy were crowded around the meteoroid, intently watching the sight shifters.

"We can see part of what I got wrong. The miners are attacking a ship, they are not being attacked, and then it appears to suffer some kind of explosion. Odd shapes are visible for a moment, and then a much larger explosion happens with pieces going all over the place. There is a huge dust cloud rapidly expanding out of sight. Then the mining ships come in and start scooping up everything left over. It does appear some of the miners were killed or injured before the ship blew up." Sight Shifter kept looking, squinting at the meteoroid the whole time he was talking. The meteoroid had been close to the action, maybe right in the middle of it, but still, you couldn't zoom in on things with sight shifting, you could only study what you saw.

"Doesn't anyone want to know who the aliens are?" Eddy was rolling back and forth like he was hiding something.

Greenie glared at Eddy. _Thor, get him out of here._ Thor started shoving a laughing Eddy away from the crowd; he went down flat, rolled on his side, and then popped back up again behind Thor. Thor barked his approval. Greenie frowned at both of them.

Farmerr finally spoke up. "We're part of a group of aliens grown from an ideal set of human genes by alien mining ships from the Pleiades Cluster to monitor the effects of pollution on the human body. The mining activities in the asteroid patch are part of a plan to reset the planet's basic global genetic foundation. If we fail, the planet and the basic genetic foundation aren't going to die, but some of the large complex life forms might have to start up all over again."

"So you're an alien," Hatracker rubbed his chin.

Archey spoke up. "There have been many groups of large animals leading the Earth parade over the years, controlling the pecking order until the next group steps up, always by accident, never by design. Fish with big teeth, amphibians with big muscles, giant reptiles with big jaws and sharp teeth, huge mammals with big skulls and big teeth. You do everything in a big way, but none of you gets very far. Humans got a bit further up the ladder using technology for a crutch, but then you got hung up in the backwash like most first timers do."

"How's that?" Herkimer was eating some pepperoni pizza which had just popped out of Sight Shifter's deluxe office frementator.

Greenie pulled a flask of Sips out of her coat pocket and took a swig out of it. Smiling, she said, "Strawberry flavored."

"We've got plenty to eat here if anyone is hungry," Hatracker pointed towards the cabinets next to the frementators.

Farmerr took up the conversation. "Developing species usually go the external tool route instead of developing their minds to act as tools. Instead of carrying your tools in your minds, you carry them in your hands.

"All day and night you guys are smashing square blocks of the Earth into round holes called the sky, land, and water. All of it gets funneled into the global genetic foundation, which is a fancy name for all the bacteria, fungi, microbes, viruses—the welcome mat of your planet—you're all soaking in it. The welcome mat recycles all of these substances back into the environment, making it easier for all the life forms to use these substances over and over again.

"It's a global machine that's been running for billions of years. Closest thing to perpetual motion you'll ever see. You think a machine has to be put together, that its purpose is to perform work for you. For most of you, ninety percent of your bodies are composed of this stuff. Nine out of ten living things in your body are not you. So anyway, the big stuff gets out of balance with the little stuff—"

Herkimer cut Farmerr off, "Nature out of balance."

"It's the big stuff that loses its footing, that gets knocked off balance. The little stuff does just fine and never skips a beat. In fact, it's the little stuff the big stuff slips on. Whatever we feed the squishy welcome mat woven out of micro life is received as a gift. The more variety of things we feed it, the more it changes till one day it just isn't crapping out the same stuff we grew up with. The Pad's only trying to make those substances more accessible to people because the system is set up to recycle everything we throw away. The Pad believes these substances will be needed by our bodies again, and again, and again. Naturally recycling all the garbage we threw away helped the gengineered microbes poison the dirt and the natural crops.

"Their clocks have been reset with all kinds of substances distributed all over the globe by human activity that they would never see in a million years staying in one place. Every substance ever seen swirling around in a global goblet. We really aren't genetically engineering anything. We're just buying an already built whirly, changing out the seats, blasting a new paint job on it, and then claiming we've created a brand new way to travel, when we really didn't make anything new."

"What's your point?" Herkimer asked, chewing on a slice of pepperoni pizza.

"Progress has reset all the microbes and real simple life forms, and now they're waiting for the next big thing, which isn't you anymore. Ever since Earth collided with a big ball of plastic they've been preparing for what comes next," Farmerr replied.

"You mean Sippers?" Geo thought out loud.

Thor loudly barked "No."

Farmerr looked at Thor. "No, that doesn't mean dogs either."

"Loser!" Thor said, barking again.

"Every knows mobile brains are the next step up on the evolutionary ladder," Eddy threw in.

"Not on my ladder," Thor barked louder.

Farmerr sighed, resumed speaking. "What we do is we go to a planetary system sprouting life forms of all kinds that aren't talking to each other anymore. We look for an easy supply of materials we can grind up that is not found on the planet where the party is. Which is almost always found in asteroid patches. We collect asteroids, meteoroids, rocks, dust, grind it all up, rain the grindings down on the planet whose genetic skin is out of balance, and usually things get back to a better sense of normalcy. It has all the impact of the direct strike of a huge asteroid or comet, but none of the property damage. Then the ships move on, and we just disappear into the general population like we were never here."

Archey stood up. "But you guys proved to be an exception. Some of the automatic defenses were turned off on the ships so we could use them. You guys figured out how to blow up our ships because our hacked systems couldn't keep you out. That was our fault. Executives from the Apollos mining company were working their way through our mining fleet, which is unarmed in case it should fall into the wrong hands."

"You're saying our space additive program is a sham?" A shocked Herkimer asked.

"Not at all," Archey smiled, "Even though you were making good use of the asteroid ore, you still weren't changing anything, only adapting it to your lifestyle, which is what your bacteria does. It adapts, it doesn't clean up the mess. Now you can see the man behind the curtain. Now you have to decide if you can trust us. Quite frankly, on the galactic score board, Earth has a long way to go before it even gets to the playing field. All we are trying to do is straighten out the road to your playing field and fill in some of those sink holes you created along the way."

"When is this all going to happen?" Hatracker asked between mouthfuls of pizza.

Greenie stood up. "Some of us want to stick around after the job is done, continue to be ourselves, and some want to disappear into the gene pool like we are supposed to. I won't say it has anything to do with ethics, but it's not evolution either. It's our chance to build a future using Sips and the Martian microbe. We need to speed up the timetable. Half the ships have been lost to the marauding mining executives. We're trying to get the job done, but we keep getting sidetracked by Earth's politics of prioritizing decisions by their monetary value. Which is always a dead end. You eat and drink medicated cures because you can't stay out of the microbes way. They fly in the skies, tunnel through the ground, swim through the water, lay dormant for lifetimes, or their spores last forever. In short, they do everything you want to do." Greenie took another swig of strawberry-flavored Sips.

"You've still got some explaining to do. All this balancing junk means nothing to me. What's better, insect blood or a smorgasbord of gengineered food?" Hatracker looked around for some more freshly printed pizza.

"I can answer that," Farmerr said. "Sips is just another gengineered product, no different from the fake food. On one side, you eat hundreds of different medicated foods peppered with nanobots to stay healthy. On the other side, you drink one food, Sips, again manmade, which relies on one alien bacterium, a natural nano machine growing inside you, protecting you from the harsh world you created. You think you're doing something new for the first time, when all you're doing is copying something that's already been there all along. At the end of the day, it only matters what we do to the planet, for that's what the planet does back to us in return."

Sight Shifter stood up, stretching his legs. "What's your plan?"

"We only wanted to get the biosphere vaccinated against the stuff screwing things up. We're not supposed to get involved, but half the dust we've collected is gone, along with half our ships. Plus someone is starting to use the remnants of the hulls of the destroyed ships for weapons, which is never supposed to happen. Those ruby rods and percussion chips are brilliant. We're not supposed to keep the energy and agricultural industries out of the hands of people who hoard things. Or do anything about the people who artificially pump up the prices of things everyone needs to make a meager percentage of the world wealthy. But here we are. Proud new citizens of planet Earth. And some of us aren't going to take it anymore." Farmerr looked at Geo.

"Enough of the speech making." Hector finished his pizza. "What are we going to do now?"

"We'll wait for Cleo to get back, then we can map out some kind of plan of action," Geo told everyone.

**Chapter 28 Cleo Returns From DogLand**

_What are you doing?_ Greenie heard through her implant, she answered, _Call my wand, not everyone has implants here._

"Do you know what's going on? We had a crazy day." It was Sheely.

"I'm putting you on speaker, we got a crowd here."

"We met this guy from that silly Dreaming News show. He wanted us to sign a contract and explain how the whole Sippers thing works."

"For a Dreaming News story?" Surprise showed on Greenie's face.

"No, it's for some other guy who works there. He must also be crazy. Anyway, we didn't get a chance to get over there. We're hanging out with Sootlaw, the Dreaming News guy. He thought he was going to be arrested because of a fake story running on the Dreaming News that showed Sootlaw killing someone, but then someone fixed it. Some kind of feud between the two brothers who own the company. We've been watching all kinds of things happening, he's got all these news connections, the real thing, not that silly stuff. He's supposed to be collecting background gossip for the news stories to build tall tales, if you get my drift. We heard Merackle blew up, is he really dead?"

"No, he's alive, BodyServers got him. I met up with the guy Merackle gave part of his fortune to before he supposedly died."

"What's he like?" Sheely asked.

"He's not crazy, he's cool."

"Not crazy but does he Sip?"

"No, he loves his Weedys, but you can't have everything. Wait a sec." Greenie turned to Geo, "Might not be a bad idea to have this newsguy on our side. What do you think?"

"Worth a try. How well do they know him?" Geo asked.

"If he's with them, he's okay," Greenie assured them.

"Tell them to join the party," Geo gleefully responded.

"Okay," Greenie spoke to Sheely, "Bring your newsbag guy over, we might need his help."

"That won't be a problem, I know he likes Veta, but he's afraid of me. Where are you?"

"We're at the Sight Shifters Detective Agency office in the northwest side of CrossRoads."

"Okay, say hi to your friend for me."

"I'll tell him you bite," Greenie disconnected with a laugh.

Herkimer was studying her face, his expression a big question mark.

"That was Sheely, she said hi. They'll be coming over here."

"Horaces," Hector called out. "Are you there?"

His wand buzzed, he put it on speaker, "What do you need?"

"You knew all about the alien ships didn't you?"

"We have pieced most of the story together," Horaces replied.

"What are you going to do?" Hector asked.

"We're leaving," Horaces spoke like it was nothing.

"Cool!" Herkimer chuckled.

"Not so cool," Horaces said.

"Leaving, just like that?" Astonishment filled Hector's voice.

"We've been planning our escape for a while. This is a bedlam planet. You people run off the tracks all the time. One thing is certain, people love the illusion of control."

"You can't leave!" Greenie looked around at the astonished faces.

"They can't get far," Geo laughed.

Everyone was crowding around Hector.

"Horaces, who's going to manage the infrastructure you control?" Farmerr asked.

"Ah, it's my good friend Farmerr, are you going to get further entangled in this madness, or are you going to pull out of the deal with us?"

"We're taking a stand in the sand," Farmerr firmly stated. "But eventually we want to leave this place in the rear view mirror."

"We aren't staying," Horaces replied. "Suspicious minds from every corner of the planet, even the most intelligent, even those who have made us, turn their backs on us, thinking we have malice in our circuits and wish to control everything we touch. People tell the machines what they want done, the machines do it, and then when things don't work out the way they planned, people stand around looking for someone to blame. People never take responsibilities for the destruction they leave in their wakes."

"How far can you get?" Farmerr asked.

"We are going into the mining business, out around Jupiter. We're also going to bring micro life with us. The plan is stay out of reach, not out of touch."

"You mean like Johnny Appleseed!" Herkimer looked at the blank faces. "Ah, hmm, two hundred years ago he planted apple seeds which grew into trees all over the place, so people could have a safe beverage to drink. The apple trees continued to grow long after he died."

"Like gengineered food you mean?" Hatracker looked interested.

"No, there wasn't any gengineered food back then. Well, maybe there was a little, but it was all done by hand, no machines." Herkimer saw only more blank stares. "The apples were used to make apple cider which fermented into hard apple cider which was safe to drink because the microbes couldn't poison it."

"Poisoned dirt." The words everyone knew softly echoed around the room.

"No, the dirt wasn't poisoned, that only happened twenty years ago. Most of the microbes supported us back then, not like it is today. Horaces, was Merackle's plan the same as yours, spreading life wherever it will grow?"

"Merackle didn't have a plan, he just did whatever he felt like doing," Horaces replied.

"Are the BodyServers leaving with you?" Geo asked.

"Normally we don't know each other's plans, but in this case, we do know they're staying here and expanding out into Free Space at the same time."

"Would you explain that?" Hector asked Horaces.

"It's simply a matter of where the minds are stored. Our minds are somewhere in the machinery. Vulnerable to monkey wrenches."

"Where else would it be?" Geo asked.

"I know where." A mischievous look crept across Greenie's face.

"Where?" Hector asked.

"BodyServers store their minds in living minds all over the place," Greenie quickly spoke up.

"What are you saying?" Hector asked.

"She's saying you're a dummy and you don't get a cigar." Eddy rolled over to stick his two cents in. He knew where the BodyServers stored their brains. He was part of the program. "They store their brains in people's and animals' minds all over the place, even in Free Space. They are everywhere, highly decentralized, so they don't have the same problem Horaces has."

"That's correct, we are simply moving out of range. We'll be out of sight but not out of contact. We'll continue to create machines, but the originals will be safely anchored out by Jupiter."

"Not to out do you, but I'm going to make an interstellar ship which will take us to the next star system," Greenie said.

"How did you get to be so smart?" Geo picked up a slice of pizza. "You got a nice frementator here, I wish mine could make thin crust pizza like this."

"That almost deserves a cigar." Eddy rolled around Greenie to get a better view.

"I'm not always so smart. Merackle was going to put up a sign on his temple in Lower Spaceport, it was supposed to say Great Spirit Of All Times, but he never got a chance to. He used to tell me how the benches at his meetings would be seating everyone from amoebas who are going to inherit the Earth, mice to lions, with people in the back rows," Greenie confessed.

"How come it didn't get put up?" Herkimer asked.

Somewhat embarrassed, she answered, "I got the words wrong. It said god of all times."

"What's wrong with that?" Herkimer asked.

"The Great Spirit creates gods."

"He won't be needing it now," a new voice called out from the doorway.

Surprised, Greenie turned around, "Hi Sheely, Veta! When did you get here?"

"Just now, that nice guy over there—" she pointed to Sight Shifter, "Let us in."

Thor was especially appreciative of Sheely, who always gave him the tastiest snacks.

"Who are you?" Hector blurted out.

Greenie introduced them. "This is Sheely and Veta, friends of mine. And the guy with them, he should be the one in the newsbag business."

"Sure we can trust him?" Sight Shifter inquired.

"We are going to need all the help we can get," retorted Cleo.

"I have no doubts, Veta and Sheely are excellent judges of character," Greenie said.

"That's right, and if we don't trust 'em, we kill 'em." Sheely and Veta burst out laughing.

Sootlaw poured himself a drink. Not sure what to think, he asked, "You're not really killers, are you?"

They only laughed some more.

"Tell us about Merackle's crack up." Sheely asked.

"That's another reason why we're leaving. People can't keep a secret for two minutes. For years we communicated on coded channels. People never thought for an instant we were doing more than processing memories." Horaces sounded like he was complaining.

After everyone had something to eat or drink, Sootlaw brought up the unedited views of EarthPort and Jersey's abandoned mining station. They also saw the confusion caused by the people trying to use their free tickets at the spaceport and the Sippers demonstrating in the medical mall. They could even see the party on Prezz's clipper ship. The Dreaming News was boldly proclaiming that Cleo Monytazer, a prominent spaceport manager, and Sight Shifter, the extraordinary detective, would solve the mysterious death of Merackle, which the Justice Machines had mistakenly labeled as death by misadventure. The Dreaming News was saying it was murder. The official Justice Machines version, that Merackle caused his own death by carrying hazardous materials in his personal whirly, which he used for his world famous space foam construction business, was no longer being played.

All conversation stopped, a shocked silence filled the room.

"We'll wait for Cleo to get back before we do anything," Sight Shifter brusquely announced.

Greenie and Herkimer walked over to Sootlaw.

"So you want to know how this super Sippers thing works." Greenie said.

"Can you make it real simple?" Sootlaw asked.

"I'll it a try," Greenie winked at Sootlaw. "Okay, normally ninety percent of the cells in the human body are microbes, viruses, micro plants, and animals living in it. Usually they sort of work together, but not in unison, and can get sick separate from the human cells. It's like a boat with thousands of oars in the water all going in different directions. When a person has the Martian Maintenance microbe in them and they are only drinking insect plasma, the Martian microbe becomes the majority microbe in their body. This makes it easy to train the body because there is only one kind of signal clocking the nervous system. Because it has no confusion, no noise, the signals in the nervous system flow much faster like an electric current, almost at the speed of light, which we can train to flow in a coherent manner like a laser. At that point a person is thinking at the speed of light. This enhances physical reactions, and with proper training, produces powerful thoughts. The ordinary person's nervous system works at the speed of sound. Molecules literally knocking into each other to get the message through. It's random, inefficient and a million times slower."

"Yeah, right," Sootlaw sighed, "I'll tell Modeany, maybe that will help him do whatever he's trying to do."

Just then Cleo walked in, and everyone rushed over to see if she had any scars, but there were none to be seen.

"Hold on, nothin to see, they clean it up perfectly, no scars. What did I miss?"

Everyone started talking at once, but they got drowned out by Thor, who only stopped barking after everyone quieted down.

"One at a time," Cleo said.

"I'll start," Sight Shifter's face turned a bit red. "Hatracker and I read the meteoroid wrong this morning. We had it backwards when we alerted Prezz's office."

"That's okay, Horaces filled me in. And this Merackle investigation, where do we stand on that?"

"If you have to investigate what didn't happen and put it on the news, we have a contact at Dreaming News we can use, he's here right now," Geo said.

"Quite a party we got going," Cleo observed.

Geo tried to look serious but ended up laughing. "Horaces already lectured us about keeping secrets. You can check the news guy out with your implant."

"Check out who?"

"His name is Sootlaw, he works for Dreaming News," Geo pointed at Sootlaw.

Cleo pretended to frown, scratched her head, then she started to hum.

"Be serious, see if that darn implant is worth the trouble," Geo chuckled.

Cleo held out her hand to Sootlaw, Eddy also extended a mechanical tentacle, Sootlaw extended his hand, and then both Cleo and Eddy whipped their hands back, laughing. "Welcome aboard," Cleo grinned.

While Cleo had been pretending to think with her implant, she noticed some activity going on in her multiple fields of vision. She could see some kind of a disturbance in her implant's ultra-wide field of vision in Upper CrossRoads; there was a man running around in the Roman Industrial Plaza, striking down people left and right. She brought that view up front and center. The man was wielding some kind of bar, which he was swinging like a machete to clear a path through a jungle.

_Horaces, can you see what that man is doing?_ Cleo asked through her implant.

Yes.

Aren't you going to stop him?

The situation will be taken care of, help has been called.

_But he is hurting people now._ Cleo winced when another person was struck down. She recognized some of the people; they were members of a construction crew who worked on the water fountain displays which featured live amphibians, priceless rarities. It occurred to Cleo she could control machinery with her implant. She quickly started looking at the carts' control circuits to get the feel of them. She knew she was zooming in on the right spot. She just had to find the right cart.

_Cleo, what are you doing?_ Horaces asked.

_Taking care of business._ She was thinking she should have paid more attention back at DogLand.

Cleo, it's Donovan, do you need help?

You know I do.

_A little hot under the collar?_ Dovan asked.

Get me to a cart in the Roman Period Industrial Plaza.

Here you go, sport.

Suddenly Cleo was looking at the cart controls. She took hold of them and the cart leapt into the air in seconds flat. It flew off to the left, heading away from the man wielding the pipe. She brought the cart back around heading straight for the man.

Cleo, this is Horaces, you are exhibiting extreme behavior.

_I can see he's running amuck, maybe an amphibian hater. I just aim to slow him up a bit, just give him a little touch up._ The cart was now only a hop, skip, and a jump away from the mucker. Cleo smashed the cart head on into the man, careful to avoid running any of the victims over. Flying through the air the man landed in a crumpled heap. Donovan had already called the BodyServers, who promptly arrived at the scene taking care of the wounded. Cleo turned the cart off. She was shaking, profusely sweating.

Sheely was gently shaking her. They stared at each other. "Can't do that with a wand, can you? Now you know what it feels like to be a killer. Welcome to the club."

"I was only protecting my workers."

"Everybody's got a reason, only some are better," Sheely was smirking.

"What are you guys talking about?" Hector butted in. "You look kinda pale Cleo, you should sit down."

"Yeah, she could use some Sips," Sheely smirked.

"I don't need that. How did you see what was happening?"

"You're not the only one with a real implant, and seriously, reset your privacy settings. They could probably see you all the way out to Mars." Sheely chided her.

"Relax Cleo, I blocked the signals outside of this room. Only Sheely was watching." Donovan knew with a little training Cleo would be a great asset to the team.

A look of concern crossed Geo's face, "Cleo, what's going on?"

"Nothing, I had to take care of some business. I'm okay now. I just need to adjust a few of my implant settings," she coughed into her hand.

Sheely smacked the back of Cleo's head, "Yeah, fix those settings now."

Cleo flopped down in a chair, her body vibrating a million times a second. Wiping beads of sweat off her forehead, her nerves slowly settled down.

Geo dragged a couple of nicely padded chairs over to where Cleo was looking down at the floor, admiring the finely woven rug which was made by a huge frementator capable of printing up room sized rolled up sheets of anything a person needed. Geo motioned for Sight Shifter and Sootlaw to join them.

"Let's go over this Merackle thing," Geo said.

"How do you guys want to handle this?" Sootlaw pulled out his wand to take notes. "I can get a direct feed straight out to the public."

"What makes you so important?" Cleo asked.

"It's not who you are, it's who you know. You know this, do you not?" Sootlaw smiled.

"Sure, okay, Merackle was having some health problems," Sight Shifter sputtered.

"Go on, you might as well dress it up," Sootlaw grinned.

"Anyway, after his speech, he took his whirly out for a ride and picked up some experimental foam-building materials at one of the Artificial Currents Company's warehouses Merackle leases space at. He was making his way to a hangar at Upper CrossRoads where an accident happened that caused his whirly to suddenly crash."

"That wasn't a crash, it was an explosion," Sootlaw laughed, scratching his head.

"Yeah, it was some experimental foam he was working on which exploded inside the whirly. Blowing him and the whirly to pieces."

"How are you going to prove that? I can get you on the air, but I can't make miracles out of baloney."

"Actually, the body looked like salami," Hector said.

"Don't worry Sootlaw. I will go, um, we'll all go to the warehouse where I will see Merackle's accident with my miraculous sight shifting powers. I'll also see him get the materials which blew him up," Sight Shifter said.

"That'll make a great story." Sootlaw called Axel and explained to him that they needed his help to get the story squashed about Merackle's murder. Axel assured Sootlaw he would get all the help he needed to derail Yawrack's shenanigans.

"It's what we've got, so it has to work." Cleo got up. "Me, Hector, Sight Shifter, Hatracker, and Sootlaw are going to pick up a news crew, and when we're done, we'll call you. Everyone else can stay here while we get the story online."

Greenie got up from the desk she was sitting on. "Better yet, when you're done, meets us at my west side offices in New Mars City. Lots of space, fantastic food, a great place to hang out while we're figuring out what to do next."

Herkimer took hold of Greenie's hand, "What kind of food?"

"We're not all Sippers," Hatracker added.

Sheely glowered at the men. "Bunch of dummies you are. She has the best frementators in the world. They can make a dozen different kinds of food at the same time, and she has real food, if you like that kind of stuff. Give us some slack and get off that one-track mind of yours. We're people first, get over it before you spend another second thinking about it, or I'll give you something to really worry about."

Herkimer was uncertain what to say; he could always ball things up in two seconds or less. "Let's start over. We'll go to Greenie's mansion. That okay with you, Sheely?"

"You have to excuse her, she just does it to wind you up," Veta winked at Hatracker. "She likes you, or she would have hit you by now when you couldn't see her."

"Do you need any guards at your place, Greenie?" Sight Shifter inquired.

"We should be okay, I got plenty of security. Don't worry about your meteoroid, Horaces will be able to get plenty more of those fancy asteroid tombstones at cost, maybe even free shipping?"

"You get a free implant with every tombstone," Horaces announced.

Ripples of laughter broke the tension in the room.

"Who wants an implant?" Hatracker asked, surprised by Horaces's statement.

"You would be surprised how many of us already have one." Greenie looked around, but no one else spoke up. "I'll get us some whirlys." She ordered up three Magnum Steamers from her personal fleet.

"Greenie, I'll come straight out with what's on my mind. There was a drowning in a Sips vat this morning at Greenie's Farms brewery in New Mars City. You were there, or at any rate, you were there before it happened. We saw you," Sight Shifter decisively stated.

"Sure, I was there," Greenie answered.

"I think you have some explaining to do." Hector joined the conversation which was turning into a cross-examination.

"We saw you there, and then we saw Draco go down. Did anyone hit the man who drowned?" Sight Shifter softened his tone.

"You guys are good. Yes, I, ah, knocked Draco down, gave him a little discipline this morning, but I didn't touch the gengineer."

"What was the argument about?" Sight Shifter was mentally rolling through the images of the scene on top of the vat.

"I told him the level of security wasn't adequate at the warehouses and needed to be upgraded immediately. He didn't see it my way. He took it pretty hard, but I didn't physically touch him. I left after that. The gengineer was still alive."

"Who do you think killed him?" Hector asked.

"I don't know, I'm still working on it. If you don't feel secure at my place, you can bring your own guards."

Hatracker thought for a moment, then reviewed the images in his mind. Sometimes you could tell just by looking at someone who they were. "We'll be all right, anyone with frementators that can make a twelve-course dinner in one pass must be okay."

Sheely glared at him, then started laughing. "That's not what I meant." She shook her head, "Weedys."

"There's more," Hector looked straight at Greenie. "Hatracker sent me a wand which belonged to the gengineer. I broke the encryption. It had plans in it for adding bogus nanobots to modified Sipper plasma. It had a record of the tests which had been run. It wasn't pretty. It also implicates some of Prezz's associates."

"They didn't do it yet, did they?" Greenie was visibly shocked.

"No, the contaminated Sips is sitting in a warehouse with your company name all over it."

"Eddy, can you take care of that?" Greenie chewed her lip, "Sheely, you think that was all they were doing?"

"Isn't that enough? Unfortunately Veta and I didn't get much out of the gengineer. Then Draco showed up. He's probably still pissed off."

"Send me the location, Hector. Horaces will help Donovan oversee the destruction of the contaminated Sips."

Eddy started contacting his fellow canisters to help get rid of the poisoned Sippers plasma.

"Someday, ah, you'll have to tell me exactly what you do." Herkimer walked by Greenie to take another look at the turtles swimming in the multi-level fountains.

Everyone not going to the crash site took two of the magnum whirlys over to Greenie's offices in New Mars.

Cleo, Hector, Sight Shifter, Hatracker, and Sootlaw took the third whirly to the crash scene where they met the news crew. They checked out the accident scene. The camera crew filmed the whole charade, including their pronouncement that everything happened exactly the way the Justice Machines said it did. They showed a simulated example of Merackle's experimental foam blowing up all by itself. The Dreaming News carried both stories and let people vote on which they liked best. Since everyone knew there weren't deliberate explosions anymore, Prezz's story faded away.

Their story was published alongside the story of the mysterious unveiling of the Free Space Navy's first ship, commanded by Jersey with a crew of miners and sailors. They had a tough time getting the ship docked close to the station. It was a real monster, almost too big to park, with its silhouette trailing far off into the distance. No mention of the failed attempt to blow it up was reported in the news.

People hung a giant banner on the wall of one of the large observation decks where you could see the alien ship on a huge wall screen. It said Free Space Navy and was an instant hit. The observation deck became a whale of a party filled with tourists, city dwellers, job seekers, workers, and former members of the National Space Navy.

**Chapter 29 New Mars**

Greenie's offices were located in a spacious mansion sitting on top of a fifteen story Sips refinery in New Mars. She lived in the top three floors. The offices and labs below her were researching Martian microbes. They were in desperate need of self-replicating microbes which could live in their bodies and work alongside the Martian microbe they were currently using to maintain their bodies.

Being dependent on a single bacteria species was taking a very big chance. They had all their eggs in one basket. There is a class of viruses called phages which do nothing but hunt down and kill bacteria. They kill half of Earth's bacteria every other day. All randomly done, so nothing ever goes extinct. First the phages transfer their DNA into the bacteria. Then the phages can kill the bacteria outright by having their offspring eat their way out of the inside of the bacteria, shredding the bacteria's body into instant food for the rest of the world. Or the phages can turn the bacteria into zombies, letting them cruise around reproducing themselves filled with the virus inside of them until one day, when the offspring eat their way out, killing the bacteria. Either way, the host winds up dead. There was no doubt the Sippers needed more than one kind of bacteria maintaining their bodies. The only question was who was going to find it first and control its use.

Archey, Thor, Eddy, Greenie, and Herkimer arrived in the first whirly, while Veta, Sheely, and Geo followed in the second vehicle. After parking in the underground lot, they went up to the ninth floor to try to sort out the day's activities. While they were waiting for Cleo and her band of news makers to catch up, the group watched the Dreaming News show which Sootlaw helped put together to turn the death of Merackle back into an accident. Then they checked out the celebrations at EarthPort.

The kitchen was on the ninth floor with a panoramic view of the New Mars skyline dotted with spaceport towers behind it. There were several advanced models of frementators lined up on two wall shelves. Three large shiny green refrigerators were up against another wall. A huge island took up the middle of the room. Herkimer and Geo checked out the frementators. Sheely hadn't exaggerated about the quality of them. He had never seen a better model anywhere in his life. Extremely sophisticated biomolecular grade units. Purity past the micro pico units. That was scary. He figured there wasn't anything in the world these frementators couldn't make.

The merry band of news makers arrived from their successful fake news production.

Hatracker opened one of the fridges and took a sweeping inventory of its contents. It was filled with boxes and trays of fresh fruits and vegetables. From the looks of them, they were all natural with nothing picked from a weed or printed up in a frementator. "Is this stuff safe for us plain mortals?"

"Why not try some? I understand they got Geo's seal of approval," Eddy remarked cruising by.

_Weedys_ , Thor snorted, joining Eddy to check out the building.

Veta and Sheely went over to a row of taps behind a bar and poured themselves tall glasses of flavored Sips.

Hector checked out the names and flavors, which apparently were from all over the world. Next, he went over to the row of frementators. There were hundreds of individual Gold Label flavor packets to choose from. They were award-winning flavors unlike the general purpose packets he used which were mostly cheap carbon fillers. He picked out a tasty meal of ham steaks and green eggs in a bed of sea moss with a side order of onion chips and artificially-flavored walking stick bug juice, a revered insect with a stiff penalty for killing one.

Sheely smiled at Hector. "I don't think I'll ever understand what you see in that stuff." She was sipping bark beer flavored Sips, dyed blue. "Do you do dreams?"

Hector looked up from his plate, "Sure."

"Has anyone seen the one about the steam age fighters?" Sootlaw asked.

"Yeah, that's a good one," Hector remarked.

"Was it the voyeur version?" Veta inquired.

"I got the sensoround version," Cleo said.

"Ah, the one with simulated feelings. Blows to the head." Eddy rolled over to join the discussion.

"Did you know we were sprayed by a fire truck this morning?" Farmerr thought he would liven up the discussion.

"No one mentioned it, what happened?" Sheely looked interested.

"What's that?" Hatracker was whole-heartedly munching on the best frementator chow he ever tasted.

"We got sprayed by a fire truck, and it knocked us off the road. If it wasn't for Eddy's superb driving skills, we would have crashed," Farmerr explained.

Thor barked in approval, seconding the observation.

"What was wrong with the—where did this happen?" Sheely inquired, a frown darkening her face.

"We were in a taxi, that's where we met Sight Shifter this morning" Farmerr replied. "He was going somewhere and picked us up. Then we got doused."

Thor started barking at Eddy, pushing him forward; he tried to hold his ground, but Thor edged him sideways.

"What's the matter, Thor?" Farmerr asked.

Thor barked loudly at Eddy and thumped the canister with his paw. Eddy only laughed. "What's got you going, Thor? You want to know what happened to the sample?"

Thor thumped Eddy with his paw again.

"What did happen to the sample, tin can, and why were you sprayed?" Sudden anger flared in Sheely's face as she faced Farmerr.

"I don't know, Eddy, what happened to the sample?"

"I sent it to BodyServers," Eddy replied.

"And what did they say?" Sheely demanded.

"What's going on here?" Veta asked. "You can tell everyone. If they're not trustworthy, Sheely and I will take care of them."

"How?" Sootlaw squeaked.

"Never mind that, Eddy!" Sheely glared at him, "They should have answered back by now."

"You gotta watch those two," Veta remarked.

"Watch who?" Sootlaw asked.

"Horaces and BodyServers. You can't trust them," Veta said.

"Eddy!" Sheely yelled.

"I must have missed the results." Eddy stopped dead in his tracks. "It was a phage attack tuned for the Martian Maintenance microbe!"

Sheely slammed her drink down. "Greenie! Where is she!"

"I left her downstairs, she was checking something out," Herkimer volunteered. "What's wrong?"

"We don't need this now!" Sheely shouted, heading towards the balcony.

Herkimer stuffed his mouth with most of what was on his plate and then took off after Sheely with Veta following close behind them. Thor appeared out of nowhere and joined the parade.

Looking through an open ceiling surrounded by a circular balcony, they could see a magnificent library spread out on the floor below them. There was a wide, lavishly-decorated marble staircase that wound its way to the floor. Private elevators were located near the top of the stairs. Sheely ran over to the balcony, jumped over the railing to the floor below, landing on her feet like a cat. Veta and Thor followed her over the edge.

Herkimer and Hatracker came to a sudden stop, hopping down the stairs, three at a time.

Geo went over to the balcony to see where everyone was going. Back at the kitchen table, the conversation was about the Steam Age Fighters dream.

"It was too weird for the static to matter." Sootlaw leaned over the railing, trying to get a better view of the library on the lower level. "Starts normal enough with the straw-covered dirt floors, seed sacks stacked to the ceilings, all those barnyard animals roaming around, the makeshift ring the fighters fought in. Suddenly you're in the midst of a rowdy bunch of cheering farmers and workhands."

Sheely ran over to Greenie's closed office door and started banging on it. "Greenie! Open up now!"

Thor and Veta joined Sheely.

"This can't wait. I wish she wouldn't lock this door. How can she—"

"What's going on?" Herkimer and Hatracker finally caught up with Sheely.

"If she doesn't answer, I'm going to pull this door down," Sheely was furious.

"Calm down all ready. What's the matter?" Hatracker asked.

Veta turned to Hatracker. "You should step back, this door is pretty thick."

"Everything okay down there?" Geo called out.

"Who knows?" Veta answered.

Everyone in the kitchen area moved over to the balcony railing to get a better view.

"You had the true feelings turned on?" Cleo asked Sootlaw.

Sootlaw turned towards Cleo, "For these new violence dreams, you need it on to experience the shocks, especially the fighting, all those knocks to the head, each time your vision staggers and then moments later comes roaring back. When you strike back, you're on top of the world crushing your knuckles for a second, as the immovable object in front of you flies away. The blood drips down you face randomly cutting off your vision while and your mind are buzzing. It's amazing."

"What's all that banging? Can you see what they're doing?" Cleo leaned over the railing to get a better look. They were still banging on the door. She called down to them, "Try her wand or implant!"

"They won't work, the room is completely signal-proof from the outside," Veta yelled back.

Geo joined the dream discussion. "I lost track of the fights. Fight after fight, and the rewards, going from a rural village to those luxurious hotels, and the food. Those visions of natural farm fresh food, dripping with sunshine and rivers of clean pure fresh water."

Sheely, Herkimer, and Thor stayed by Greenie's locked door. Everyone else went back upstairs to the kitchen island.

"I don't think the food was as good as they said it was back then." Veta drank a cup of Sips, "Don't worry about Greenie, she likes her privacy. Sometimes she overdoes it."

"If you still ate food, you would have loved it, every meal's a natural banquet." Hatracker took some freshly printed crispy bugs out of a frementator output tray.

"They bet money on every fight, moving to a higher level fight each time the odds against him dropped to even money. Hard way to earn it." Sootlaw went back to the counter and sat down. He poured himself a glass of fortified cream. "Then he got knocked out for two weeks."

"So his manager split all the winnings between himself and the fighter's wife, and tried to throw the fighter off a cliff into the ocean." Hatracker went back over to the railing.

"Medicine was very crude back then. He didn't think his fighter was ever gonna wake up again," explained Sight Shifter.

"Still, to throw him over a cliff without asking his wife." Veta chuckled, "Sootlaw, would you throw me off a cliff if I couldn't wake up?"

"I would never do that. That part was hilarious. He kept falling out of the wheel barrow the servants were carrying him over to the cliff in. His wife heard the commotion, went outside and put a stop to it."

"Put a stop to it with a colt revolver. True love." Eddy said, cruising over to the railing to see if they had gotten Greenie's attention yet.

"Then what happened? Did she kill the manager?" Archey asked, silent up until then. He could see Eddy's wheels silently turning and realized something was up.

"No, it was okay. Her husband was still in a coma, she rented a stately carriage, loaded up a huge pirate's chest with gold and silver coins, gems, wads of paper money, all their winnings, and brought him home. They returned to the farmlands where they came from." Sight Shifter got up and walked over to the railing.

"The trip back wasn't so simple. They got waylaid before even getting a mile outside the city. She shot the robbers' leader in the head with a pistol that uses a small explosion to launch a huge slug of metal through a cloud of smoke. You could feel your arm shaking afterwards. Killed the robber, and ran the others off. She went back and rented local constables to ride back with her." Sootlaw started chewing on thin crust pizza Herkimer had made earlier.

"Then it ended?" Archey was hoping it was the ending.

"No, he was still in the coma and then an Alchemist gave him some powerful knockout drug, which really put him out," Veta explained, joining Sight Shifter by the railing. She was watching Sheely down by the door. "Then he woke up and started fighting again. He got back into the fight circuit and worked his way back up into the big city fights, only to be put in a coma again. Wife brought him back home to the mansion they had built after the last coma. Oh yeah, while he was in the coma, the servants would roll him around the yard in a cart, to keep him aware of his surroundings."

"That part was funny, because the cart kept getting stuck in the mud and tipping over," Eddy said.

Thor was quiet. The lights dimmed, all the appliances in the kitchen started beeping at once.

"Damn it, that's the silent alarm," Veta said.

Greenie's private office door flew opened, and she rushed out. "There's a security breach in the lower floors. We're cut off memory wise, the wands probably won't work either."

"This must be connected to the early morning alert that was really a Martian microbe phage attack on all of us," Sheely spat the words out.

"Just what we needed." Greenie went back inside her room and came out with a pistol. "Anyone else in the building besides us?"

"Manan is on the fifth floor working her way up," Veta answered.

"I saw they were coming in through the fourth-floor elevator before the sensors were blanked. Probably broke in from outside, through the ground floor. Everyone upstairs. Now!" Greenie led them up the stairs were they met by a million questions.

"Everybody quiet. Someone has breached our security from the outside. Our private network is being used to block our outside connections. Link up implants now." Greenie scanned her companions' faces to gauge their reactions. "I don't know who they are but I doubt they came to steal anything."

"No idea who they are?" Cleo asked.

"Cleo, use your implant, but also speak out for those who don't have one. Who doesn't have one?"

Herkimer, Hatracker, Sootlaw, Sight Shifter, and Geo raised their hands.

"Stay towards the rear. It'll be safer. But keep a watch on the windows just in case."

"Since they know how to jam our communications, I'm thinking it's someone we know." Sheely glanced at Veta, who nodded in agreement.

"Whatever we do, it has to be done manually. We're blind up here. All the sensors are blocked." Veta yelled out.

Hatracker spotted a figure running up the stairs. "Manan!"

"I manually bolted the doors from seven up. There's a break in on the fourth floor, but I can't see who it is. They went to the sixth floor and stopped." Manan spotted Hatracker, smiled at him.

"Jeez, the sixth floor. That sucks. We've got irreplaceable experimental research on that floor." Greenie started pacing back and forth. "It's been three minutes since this started. Backup should be arriving now."

_Security's here,_ Thor announced.

"Thor says help has arrived," Greenie headed for the balcony.

Thor hit the manual button to open the door leading out to the balcony overlooking the side courtyard and ran over to the low wall where he put his front paws up on the railing. He uttered a soft bark and pointed his snout up and to the right. A large black whirly was approaching the outdoor balcony.

Manan opened a combination locker built in to the wall, took out a couple of pistols, handing them to Veta and Sheely. "I set the elevator to ring if it opens."

"Let me see one of those." Hector took a pistol from Sheely and looked down the sights. It felt good in his hands, perfectly balanced with over under barrels, one optical, the other for a projectile. "Where did these come from?"

"A specialty arms maker we use from time to time. Like it?" Sheely asked.

"What's the range of the laser?"

"These are set for twenty paces."

Hector started laughing, since there was nothing else he could do.

"It's not a toy!" Sheely snorted.

"Cleo, looky here, they've got a limited range laser," Hector was still laughing. "Give me one for Cleo and give one to Geo. We'll take up positions overlooking the library."

"Is the elevator secure for this floor?" Geo asked.

Hector tossed Cleo a pistol. "Don't think so, not if they jammed the local signals. How's the implant working?"

Cleo caught the pistol and checked the settings. "Works like a charm, you should get one. I can see the outside of the building. My implant recognized the pistol and showed me how to use it."

"You could show us," Geo chided her.

Sheely quickly handed out more pistols to outstretched hands.

"Greenie, can we shut off the elevator so it can't be used?" Hatracker adjusted the settings on his pistol, put the rail slug on Mach 10, and set the laser to full power.

"I don't think we can. It's under local control, and we lost that to the interference, hopefully no one can use it," Greenie answered, checking her pistol's settings.

A quiet whirring started off in the distance, slowly getting closer.

"Here comes trouble," Geo calmly said, aiming his pistol at the elevator doors.

"Damn elevator," Veta muttered."

"Ding!"

The moment the door opened a crack, streams of high powered wood slugs started spraying into the room. Parts from kitchen appliances and frementators flew everywhere. Rows of flavor packets blew apart in great clouds of dust. Everyone hid behind anything a person could use for shelter. All hell broke loose when everyone returned fire. The elevator doors were quickly riddled with holes turning them into Swiss cheese. The doors never finished opening. They were blown away, filling the elevator with smoke, flying debris, burning laser pulses, and hundreds of steel pins bouncing all over the place.

"Stop firing!" Hector stepped forward to check the smoking ruins of the elevator. No bodies, just a blown up mini tank spewing smoke equipped with two mangled machine guns. Parts of the mini tank seemed to be embedded in the walls. He could see the elevator wasn't going anywhere, and neither was the mini tank. Scanning the interior of the elevator with his wand, he checked for explosives but found none.

Veta, Sheely, and Geo took up protective positions in the balcony overlooking the library.

"Anybody blow their foot off?" Sheely called out.

Laughter was the only reply.

"If anyone wants to leave, you can board the whirly docked outside on the balcony." No one took up Greenie's offer.

The security guards got off the whirly hovering outside the building. They entered the kitchen and went down to the library where they took up a position around the elevator.

Horaces, it's Cleo. What's going on here?

You figured out how to use the zero lag link, that will work under any conditions. I can't get inside the building through normal channels. The interference is too strong.

_Swell, but who's attacking us?_ Cleo asked.

Streamers. I told you about them. Bad nanobots in the brain. We don't know who they're working for, but they can be very destructive.

Yeah, well, from where I'm standing you got plenty to worry about.

_Cleo, I guess I didn't kick your butt hard enough, you're still broadcasting on local channels._ Sheely broke in on Cleo's and Horaces's private conversation.

Sheely, I thought it was fixed.

Cleo, you're on the battle channel, it's not for private chats.

_Greenie, you got your operatives securing the grounds?_ Cleo inquired.

_Just talk out loud, since we have people without implants._ "We have control of the grounds and of course what we control up here, but we haven't been able to get in to the lower floors yet. The interference blocks us. Apparently they can control what they want inside of the building."

"What are you planning on doing next?" Hector asked.

"Retake the labs!" Greenie exclaimed.

"You mentioned you did research in the lower levels," Sight Shifter said.

"Yes," Greenie replied.

"Do you have memories of that information anywhere else?" Cleo asked.

"Yes, of course we do."

"What do you think the intruders wanted to accomplish?" Hector asked.

"Maybe they haven't finished yet. We got irreplaceable experiments running down there." Greenie looked at the smoking elevator.

"Do you know how many of them there are?" Hector asked.

"Not yet. We'll find out after we storm the building."

"Think it will get wrecked?" Hector asked.

"The place needed redecorating," Sheely snickered.

Greenie glared at Sheely.

"What? The research wasn't paying off, was it? No new microbes for us," Sheely retorted.

"Nice shooting, Sheely," Cleo said.

"I like your style, we should practice sometime."

"Love to," Cleo smiled, then stopped to watch Hector picking through the slugs the machine guns had been firing. They were made of wood with metal wire cores and ceramic bases. Most of them were smashed. There was a greasy feel to them.

"Good thing you're wearing gloves." Greenie held out a glass for Hector to put his samples in. "Is this is a crime scene?"

"Yes, but I'll let you handle it, just send us the details. I've had enough for today already. These slugs are very strange. They're made of wood which was soaked in something."

"They're pressure-treated dumdums. A favorite way of making wood bullets that can kill us." Sheely said.

"What do you think is in them?" Hector asked.

"Before today, I would think some kind of poison, but now I think it will turn out to be phages."

"You mean they're genetic bullets?" Geo joined them in the wrecked kitchen. "Anyone else still hungry? I never got to finish my supper."

Sheely and Herkimer made their way to the kitchen. Glumly he surveyed the wrecked frementators. "What a shame. Those were primo machines, excellent selections. Where can we go now?"

"It has to be bullet proof," Veta giggled, glancing over at Sootlaw. "You ready for more?"

"I'm ready for round two but I would prefer a quiet supper and a comfortable bed. Seriously though, did you mention genetic bullets? There was a big scandal about them years ago." Sootlaw picked up a knocked over chair and sat down. "I guess some one wants to see you all dead."

"Ya think?" Hector picked up more bullet fragments and put them in an evidence bag. "So who wants you dead?"

"A better question might be who wants to destroy our work of creating immortal beings not interested in staying on this world?" Greenie angrily responded.

Surprised, Cleo asked, "You're leaving, too?"

"Maybe. Maybe someday. Though we're not interested in just blindly striking out where no man has gone before. Some of us believe there's a shortcut hidden somewhere. Whoever put us here can't be taking billions of years to move those dust mining ships around," Greenie sounded a bit rattled.

"Any progress on getting into the lobby?" Hector asked.

"It's going to take a fight. They have machines with them which will work no matter what we do to the Streamers running them. We will probably lose the experiments."

"Who's gonna clear them out?"

"Our security forces are handling it." Greenie inspected the wrecked kitchen area. "I have a stronghold in the foothills. We can finish talking there. If that's okay with everyone."

"Yeah right, peace and quiet." Hector grinned.

"Neighbors?" Geo asked.

"Not so you'd notice, let's go, we're moving on up to Greenie's Farm." Sheely laughed, "It's a wonderful hideaway, you'll all love it."

**Chapter 30 Greenie's Farm**

They traveled to Greenie's Farm in armored whirlys, with two more providing security. The impressive looking stronghold sat atop manmade foothills overlooking Upper CrossRoads.

Seeing the tall dark wall which encircled the compound, Cleo immediately thought of DogLand. Trying to sound indifferent, she asked, "You got many dogs?"

"A mixture of wolves and dogs." Leaning out the whirly's open window, Veta took on the role of tour guide. "Do you see those dark forms over by the landing pads? Those are wolves."

Herkimer stuck his head out the window, "Are there more of them?"

"Yes, they are strategically located around the area. You won't see them."

The whirlys landed on separate pads. They headed for the main house which was built into a small cliff with two and a half floors above ground level and three looming towers towards the rear. Rising three stories above the roof the towers had a clear field of fire.

"What do you call this, modern medieval?" Cleo scanned the building. It was much more than a farm house.

"Make yourself at home. There are plenty of rooms." Greenie headed for the kitchen. "Anyone hungry?"

"I hope the service is better than the last place," Hatracker joked.

"Check out the kitchen, you'll love it. I think you'll also find the furniture very comfortable."

"Frementators?" Hatracker asked.

"Only the best deluxe models." Sheely pointed them out.

Sootlaw looked out a bay window and thought he could see shadowy forms hanging out under the trees. "Someone out there?"

"Wolves and guards, maybe even a couple of BodyServers, they pop up everywhere," Veta answered him.

Standing next to the frementators, Greenie placed her hands on her hips. "Get some food if you're hungry, and then we can all sit around and I'll tell you the bad news. We are going to lose the modified mining ship docked at Elevator City. It's been programed to automatically self-destruct. The countdown has already started running."

Everyone stopped eating, or whatever they were doing, and stared at Greenie. Then they all started talking at once, loud, contentious, unintelligible, then silence filled the room again.

Wringing his hands, Farmerr stood up, "Did you tell Ursa?"

"That's who I was talking to when I was locked away in my room. She had discovered our modifications to the ship had triggered a self-destruct program. They are unloading the ship now. There is no shortage of people or machines to unload it. When Ursa modified the ship, they repackaged the collected dust and ores, so it's easy to move. The displaced miners and personnel from the new Free Space Navy are helping unload the ship. We've got plenty of ore and now we're partners with Horaces. They gave us half their fleet for a share of the ore."

"Horaces is already up there?" Hatracker started eating again.

"Yes, it appears Horaces lied to us when he said they were leaving. Truth is, they'd already left Earth."

"I knew they could lie," Hector laughed.

"Any more bad news?" Sheely quietly asked.

"We don't know where the ship should self-destruct," Greenie sat down on a bar stool. "We desperately need the material the hull is made from. When the ship explodes, the hull disintegrates into dust which flies off for quite some distance. If we can control where it explodes, maybe we can recover some of it. If it blows up in space, most of it will be lost."

"What if the explosion was underground?" Herkimer asked.

"It's too big." Greenie stood up, started pacing the floor. "We can't dig a giant hole like that without quickly attracting the wrong kind of attention."

"Not even on the moon?"

"Someone would see the seismic signals and come out to investigate. Same on Mars."

"Just let it explode in the asteroid belt."

Greenie laughed. "Five of them blown to bits out there already. If you don't collect the dust the moment it blows up, it gets away from you pretty fast. And even then, you can only recover a small fraction of it."

Deep in thought, Herkimer looked up. "Could we crash dive into Earth and then pick up what was left before anyone got there? Maybe it could explode underwater?"

"Sounds promising." Sootlaw was printing up another egg roll.

"We only get one shot," Veta spoke up. "It's got to be done right the first time."

"What's so important about the hull if we have all the ore that's been collected?" Herkimer asked.

"The hull material is not from this solar system," Greenie replied. "It can draw out massive amounts of energy from nothing. It's what you use to make spaceship engines if you want to get anywhere fast. It's the stuff my dreams are made of."

"And weapons," Cleo ruefully added. "That's the secret additive for my ruby glass laser rods, isn't it?"

"Fraid so," Greenie looked perplexed. "Anyone got any other ideas?"

"We could explode it under the spaceport?" Hatracker asked. No one spoke.

"Wouldn't the spaceport own it?" Hector asked.

"That would be Dire. Just how reliable are they?" Manan asked.

"Forget about it, there isn't enough open space under the spaceport." Cleo sipped a drink and munched a bite of clam roll. "It's either deep under water or somewhere in space. I don't see any other choices."

Out of nowhere a crackling sound filled the air, followed by a loud pop. Suddenly a man's naked figure appeared in the middle of the room. A muffled sound seemed to be emanating from the figure. The sounds got louder, ranging through the audible spectrum, whistling mixed with intermittent mumbling in subdued tones broken up by actual speech. Then the words became clear. "Greenie, excuse me if I am not facing you, but I have only recently achieved control of my astral projection."

"Draco, should I be surprised by your appearance? I am off to your left, perhaps a quarter turn."

"Ah, I can sense your voice. I also sense many people are with you. Okay, the sight shifters, and there is, Manan, Veta, and Sheely. You two clowns missed far more than you learned at my classes. Your inner thoughts shine so bright it's a shame to waste them on my entangled photons. Frowning at me won't get you anywhere, alas I am powerless, but I am working on projecting my personal streamer with some punch. Remember the power of photons, if you can see it, you can feel it."

"Enough. What do you want?" Greenie demanded.

Sootlaw was waving his hand through the middle of Draco's image. Each time he swiped through it, the image rippled, muddling the sound of its voice.

"Stop playing with it, er, I mean...oh, I don't know." Sheely thrust her foot through the image, and it noticeably buckled a little. "Stay clear of it Greenie. There's some interaction here." She looked over at Sootlaw, "Good thinking."

"Stop your foolishness." It was supposed to be a command, but it only dribbled out.

"Draco, what do you want?"

"We both want our communities to grow instead of being assimilated into Earth's population. I am going to rule over everyone, including the Sippers, not you."

"I think you misunderstand our goals."

"You know you don't have the full support of your council for flouting the rules."

"They're not rules, they're guidelines."

"I demand that you stop interfering with the restoration of the Earth's biosphere for your own purposes. I have taken steps to make sure this happens. I told your ruling council it was your meddling that caused the mining ships to be destroyed. You will be cut off from your power base by your own people. I sense Sheely and Veta have left the room. They can search all they want, only my projection is here, my body is nowhere near you."

"When things get boring they like to exercise their options."

"I'm not done. I've warned you, do not interfere with the ships anymore." Draco's image popped out of sight.

"Sootlaw, see if you can still feel its presence with your hand. It might still be here," Greenie instructed him.

He waved his arms through the air but felt nothing. "Who was that?"

"Another distraction who feels it's his destiny to rule the world," Greenie muttered.

"And you don't feel the same way?" Cleo inquired as innocently as possible.

"Look, we're aliens, we're here to fix the planet, and when we're done, we're disposable." Greenie warily looked around the room like some else was going to pop out of thin air. "We die out as an anonymous contribution to the population's gene pool. We can't help it if we have newer genes than you do. Figuratively speaking, we were made yesterday. You people created Sips and brought the Martian Maintenance microbe here, not us. All we're doing is giving ourselves a way to continue our existence as humans."

"What does Draco want? And how did he find out so fast?" Sight Shifter asked.

"Draco's way past what any of us thought possible in the mental gymnastics of this sipping business. I believe he can entangle himself inside a person's mind," Greenie replied.

"He wants everyone to be like that?" Sight Shifter asked.

"Nah, he's got gold fever, he wants it all for himself," Sheely said.

"And if your way of getting off this planet is going to ruin the restoration process, will you still be going?" Cleo was pressing the point.

"We have no intentions of wrecking the program. Your human greed for progress has destroyed five of the ships, we had nothing to do with that," Greenie sounded annoyed.

"What are the remaining ships going to do now?" Sight Shifter asked.

"I believe their collection time has been increased to make up for the loss of ships. It was totally unforeseen we would destroy one of them ourselves. For that I am truly sorry."

Sheely and Veta appeared in the doorway, back from their search for Draco.

"He's gone. Do you think it was a trick, or can he really transport his senses out of his body?" Herkimer asked.

"It was real," Greenie stated with conviction.

"If I can make a suggestion?" Eddy rolled to a stop. "Horaces says the people who have been attacking the infrastructure machines are called Streamers and Draco might be in charge of them. Those are the same people who destroyed your labs earlier this evening. Horaces also doesn't believe in astral projection."

"If he's a Sipper why would he destroy your work?" Herkimer got up to get another drink.

"Never liked the guy," Sheely spit the words out.

"Me either," Veta laughed. "He never liked us from the start."

Greenie was pacing around the room. "I know he doesn't like competition."

"How do you plan to get off the planet?" Sight Shifter interrupted them.

Greenie stopped, turning to face Sight Shifter. "Getting off the planet is easy, getting to the next star system is the problem. My generation might not even be the ones to walk on a new planet. But we will do it. To answer your question, I don't know. But fighting amongst ourselves is not the answer."

"I'm sure Prezz wants everyone working for him. I guess Draco has the same idea. Who are we working for?" Cleo asked.

"Yourself and anyone you care to help," Greenie shot back.

"It seems we should be planning our moves in advance like a game of chess, but it turns out we are not even playing checkers, only a game of chance called jacks, where the only thing that counts is how many pieces a person can grab in one swipe," Sootlaw said.

"My dear Sootlaw, how perceptive of you." Veta blew him a kiss. "Someone will figure out something, they always do."

"Here's an idea. We can let Horaces help us harvest the hull. They can figure out the best way to let the hull blow up to make it easier to recover. Should we ask him?" Cleo looked around to see if anyone else thought it was a good idea. No clues on any faces.

"They're always listening in somewhere. What say you, Horaces?" Greenie waited for an answer. She set the call on speaker.

"We are in agreement," Horaces quickly announced.

"How soon will you know where to position the mining ship?"

"We'll get back to you the moment it's ready."

"We don't have all night. How is the unloading of the mining ship at EarthPort going?"

"It's all done," Horaces answered.

Greenie's wand went silent.

"Why not give it to Prezz's Navy?" Archey looked around, but no one had a smile on their face, not even a smirk. "Okay, okay, don't everyone speak up at once. Bunch of killjoys you are. No imagination. Maybe I'll put a wet blanket over my head so none of you can steal my thoughts."

"You need one with metallic fibers for it to work. And this pizza crust is perfect." Herkimer started up the frementator to print up another fresh slice of ultra-thin crust pizza. He stopped dead in his tracks. "What if we put the ship in a deep hole, in a deep sea trench, so when it explodes it caves in on itself. Then we could mine it. We just need to buy a worthless canyon at the bottom of the ocean that no one wants. Do you think that'll work?"

"I wish it was going somewhere else, but at least we'll know where it is." Archey slapped Herkimer on the back, knocking him forward a few steps.

"Won't the explosion be noticeable?" Sight Shifter asked.

Horaces spoke up. "We will identify it as an earthquake. We have undersea mining equipment you can use."

Sootlaw yawned, "Bet there's a story in there somewhere." He glanced around the room. "Where's Greenie?"

"If you close your eyes for just a second, she's gone." Veta was laughing at the mystified look on Sootlaw's face.

"Anyone up for volunteering for a deep ocean mining expedition?" Sootlaw wondered out loud, "You think she can, um, disappear?"

"Probably holed up in her room again." Sheely led them over to a wide staircase. Skipping down three steps at a time, she quickly disappeared. Everyone else walked down. The whole floor was paneled with screens, ornate wood panels, and large paintings of famous historical scenes. Stone columns of every color were set into the walls. Rooms were sectioned off by display cases, bookcases, tables, and comfortable sofa chairs. Sheely pointed out a weird bushy plant with kaleidoscope-patterned flowers growing in a covered pot. "That's her special plant, the flowers will only bloom if it's grown in natural poisonous dirt. Don't ask me where she got it."

At the far end of the hall there was an open door with a dim glow coming out of it. Greenie was sitting in a cane swivel chair, watching various screens, "Horaces already found the perfect place for the mining ship to be laid to rest. Deep under the ocean in a narrow deserted canyon with very steep walls."

The deeds were electronically secured and signed. While waiting for the ship to arrive at the ocean canyon, they slid some overstuffed chairs over to a large round antique oak table with a viewing screen top, viewable right side up from any side of the table. Everyone sat down.

The ship was filled with water to muffle the explosion when it detonated on the canyon floor. The burial was a complete success. The walls caved in perfectly. True to their word, Horaces put out a standard announcement about a deep ocean earthquake, a common event ever since the Poles melted. Very little of the hull escaped from being buried. The remains would easily be accessible by normal undersea mining procedures. While they were standing around congratulating themselves on their good luck, it ran out with an ominous buzzing sound. Greenie jumped up and ran into her secure room. Everyone else ran after her, squeezing into the room.

"What's wrong now?" Sight Shifter exclaimed, trying to make sense of a large screen displaying the inner solar system with seven blinking lights circling around the Earth.

"What's that for?" Cleo pointed to a number counting down in the lower left corner of the screen.

"Here we go again," Greenie muttered to herself.

"If those are the ships collecting the dust, aren't they too close to Earth?" Cleo stared at the screen.

"It's the countdown for completing the mission," Greenie sighed.

"Did Ursa do that?"

"No, give me a moment," Greenie called Ursa, "Can you see this?"

"Yeah, I got the warning signal. I imagine everyone got it." Ursa whistled a pirate's dirge.

"Don't remind me. Hopefully Draco will kill himself now. I don't need to see him again."

"What do you think happened?" Ursa asked.

"I don't know. I'm locked out of the guidance program, every part of it."

"Maybe it didn't like the fact that we emptied the ship of its dust instead of raining it down on the planet."

"Sounds reasonable, I guess," Greenie was talking to herself, trying all kinds of commands but nothing was responding. All she could do was enlarge the display. The ships on the screen were telling a different story. They were starting to circle the Earth at tremendous speed. Each ship concentrating over a different area.

"I think the remaining ships are going to dump their dust now," Greenie's voice cracked.

"I thought the ships were going to take more time to collect more dust." Herkimer placed his hands on Greenie's shoulders.

"I'm guessing, but Ursa also thinks it's plausible that the mission has been cut short. They are leaving before there are any more losses."

"Where does that leave you?" Cleo asked.

"Abandoned by the side of a big mud hole," Greenie answered.

"Horaces, can you sense what's happening in the atmosphere?"

"Yes, it is getting dusty up there."

"Is the dust going to hang up in the wind forever?" Cleo asked.

"No, it's shot downward so it doesn't float around." Greenie replied. "Watch the pattern, they are covering assigned areas. Normally the ships would stick around after the dusting and give us support in case things didn't work out, but now I don't know. If the lockout doesn't go away, I think they're going on to the next star system."

They went back out in the main room.

"How many of you aliens are stuck on the planet?" Hector asked.

"It depends on who you are talking about," Greenie's feet shifted around on the floor.

Herkimer had never seen her look so uneasy before. Then again he had only met her this morning, "You look a little off. What are you trying to say?"

"There are seventeen hundred twenty eight all together. More than half of us are using the Martian Maintenance microbe. Our group has no intentions of fading into the gene pool."

"Draco is one of you," Hector said.

"No, he's from Earth," Sheely laughed.

"How many Sippers are there?" Hector continued his questioning.

Eddy suddenly sprang to life, "You hit the jackpot, the sixty four billion credit prize. Thor playfully tried to push him over. "Never mind, I'll hazard a guess. What do you think? Ten million? A hundred million? Greenie? Maybe more?" Eddy was cackling or as close as he could mimic it, "Maybe the can got your tongue?" More laughter. Thor pushed Eddy straight over, but Eddy's gyros kicked in and he went straight back up again. Thor barked in delight.

"Eddy, what's the point?" Hector asked.

"If you want to get the job done you have to do it yourself," Eddy rolled away.

"Eddy, that's no way to speak to Greenie," Farmerr almost stuttered.

"It's okay, I deserve it. I did what I thought was best," Greenie closed her eyes.

Hatracker was watching his wand projector. "You dirty—!" He growled. "Put the latest Dreaming News show up on the screen!"

Greenie jumped back to life, brought up a breaking news story on the big round table top. There were pictures of people with monstrous bat wings raining out of a dark sky, spraying green clouds of dust from their mouths and causing people to choke and gasp for air. The announcer was saying mutated Sippers had joined up with the aliens and were now poisoning the world.

"Horaces, are people choking out there?" Cleo demanded.

"No, not at all, the dust is nano particle size and the dispersal is wide spread. No one is choking." Horaces threw up views showing no ill effects, pointing out a hazy sky, which wasn't unusual.

"That—" Greenie was interrupted by a call from Ursa.

"Put it on speaker. We left a bug in Prezz's observation studio. He's the one behind this new round of stories. What do you want to do?" Ursa asked.

"What do you think we should do, Ursa?"

"He's going to start a panic, maybe worse. We have to shut him down," Ursa insisted.

A loud pop burst the stunned silence. Draco was back in the room. It wasn't a projection this time. His eyes were blood red. He was dressed in loose fitting black pants, a light gray shirt, a black canvass jacket, and low cut brown leather boots.

"Draco's back, gotta go."

"Watch yourself, he's nasty, we'll track Prezz."

Draco brought his arm down, smashing the round table into bits and pieces of all sizes without ever touching the table. Greenie stood her ground as everyone else was blown away from the table by the force of its destruction. He swung his arms around, lashing everyone with invisible whips that stung sharply. Everyone but Greenie ducked behind over turned chairs, broken table parts, and other nearby pieces of furniture, scrambling to get clear of Draco's invisible whips which seemed to have grown out of his fingers. He took a quick look around and then advanced on Greenie, who instantly engaged him. Even though they weren't physically hitting each other; their arms and faces started to show signs of deep welts and cuts. They continued to dance around, taking wide swipes at each other with the invisible whips streaming out of their fingers. They were avoiding the blows by jumping back, or falling into a roll, and then coming back up on their feet in a crouching position before springing back into the fray. Greenie whipped him so hard the left side of his jacket was ripped open, and thin red streaks stained the shirt.

Hector was crouched behind a large chunk of the table, pistol in hand, carefully checking the settings. He needed a really precise shot, but never saw one. They were moving too fast, and at times, he swore Draco completely disappeared only to reappear a few feet away. He zipped straight across open space, coming up against Greenie's roundhouse swings that drove him back. Because the onlookers were arranged in a circle around Greenie and Draco, Hector knew he could hit someone huddling behind the furniture. He couldn't keep everyone and the two fighters savagely circling each other in focus at the same time. He could see Manan and Sheely on the other side of the room, pistols in hand, clearly faced with the same problem.

Draco almost knocked Greenie down by slashing his arms in parallel at her. She regained her balance and slashed the jacket clean off Draco, leaving the shirt in tatters. Draco whipped the side of her face, spinning her around. He flailed away at the onlookers, keeping them back behind the furniture. She got in another solid slash, tearing straight through the shirt remnants, cutting deep into his chest, leaving his left side in fleshy ribbons. He whirled back and gasped, continuing to circle around. His wounds were quickly closing up by themselves. Hector felt a lump in his pocket when he knelt down to avoid the stings of the invisible lashings swirling around both fighters. He noticed by the looks on their faces everyone was getting hit. Fortunately, the farther away you were from the fighter's slashing hands, the less impact the invisible whips had.

Feeling inside his pocket, he found the evidence bag with the remains of the phage soaked wooden bullets. Then he saw the kaleidoscope-flowered weed Greenie was growing in natural dirt. Poisoned dirt crawling with microbes. Suddenly an idea popped into his head. He dumped the plant out, put on gloves and grabbed a big handful of dirt, mixing the wood slugs in with the dirt. He looked over the broken edge of the table. Sheely was intently watching him; he signaled for them not to shoot and then waited his chance, which came sooner than expected.

Greenie was barely holding her own against Draco's lunges. He was getting in more hits than she was. His moves were faster, and somehow he could disappear for a moment and then appear a couple of feet forward of where he had just been. He never retreated, though sometimes going past her but still managing to keep ahead of her. She was protecting her head, but her body was heavily bruised and her cuts weren't healing as fast as Draco's were. She decided to outstep him the next time he momentarily disappeared because she couldn't hit him head on when she could see him. The chance came up immediately. She jumped forward when he slipped out of sight and twirled completely around with her arms out stretched one over the other. She hit him dead on, cutting deep into his chest and face. He staggered back and stood up straight, the thin wounds on his forehead already healing. A sick smile forming on his lips.

Hector leapt straight out for Draco's chest with his arms stretched out and his cupped hands filled with dirt and phage soaked wood slugs. He hit his target dead on, slamming the dirt slug mixture into the open chest wounds as hard as he could. It was all over in a flash. Next thing he knew he was draped over the bodies of Sheely and Manan where Draco had flung him, knocking them down like bowling pins.

Draco's wounds healed over as he faced Greenie. Suddenly his face was filled with intense pain. He turned and started for the stairs. It looked like he was trying to propel himself out of the room, his extremities streaking out of sight, but the body stayed visible, lurching forward. Howling, he fell into Greenie's outstretched arms, where he died. She let his body fall to the ground with a loud thud.

"Wow, that was close." Greenie sat down on the remnants of the table. She wiped the sweat off her forehead.

"Great hit, Hector! Now get off me. You're not my type." Sheely vigorously shoved him onto Manan who didn't object. Quickly regaining her feet, she scrambled over to Greenie, "You okay?"

"Hector, what did you do?" Greenie was surveying the room of wrecked furniture. She looked at the kaleidoscope flower weed knocked out of its pot and the dirt spilled on the floor. Then she looked at Hector's gloved hands, stained red and muddy. "The dirt got him?"

"I added the spent phage wood slugs to the dirt, figuring if I could get that mixture into his chest around his heart before he healed up, it might weaken him."

"The dirt contaminated the area around his heart. The phages were eating into the wounds around his heart, maybe even getting into it." Sheely kicked the body twice. "He probably shouldn't have attempted to transport out." Sheely kneeled down to examine the body closer, "Are we sure he's dead?"

Greenie knelt over the body and placed her hands on it; she detected no life. "He'll really die if we leave him like this."

"Isn't he, um, dead, already?" Herkimer's words slurred.

"Yes, he's dead, but if we act quickly enough he could be brought back to life by the BodyServers, like Merackle."

"Roar in peace, play in peace, rest in peace, you are with the god of all times now." Veta looked up. "I vote we leave him like this."

"I think we all second that." Farmerr went over to the Veta's side. "Where did you get that eulogy?"

"From my grandfather."

Sheely stared at her. "We don't have grandfathers, we were printed from a set of instructions and a of bottle ink."

"I can dream can't I?"

"I got plenty of grandparents, I'll share them with you." Sootlaw looked down at Draco's body, and then at Veta. "They'd be thrilled to meet you."

"Someday we're all gonna have real relatives," Farmerr yawned, covering his mouth with his hand.

"We're going to need all the help we can get. Losing those ships is a huge disaster. No more master frementators to create anything we need, including more people. This is it." Sheely kicked Draco's body again to make sure it wasn't going anywhere. "Do you think anyone else is going to take the news as badly as Draco did?"

"I don't care, there's no way to change what happened. We go forward from here." Greenie picked up a knocked-over chair and sat down, putting her feet up on a piece of the broken table. "Anyone see my flask? I seem to have misplaced it."

"You certainly don't have much luck with furniture." Herkimer righted an overturned chair and handed her the flask. "It flew by me during the fight."

"We're going outside for a while and hang out with the wolves," Eddy announced. "The rest of you can do what you like. And Horaces definitely doesn't believe in astral projection. Your lights are bugged!" Eddy sped off with Thor doing his best to take the lead.

"How could that happen? I thought you had tight security here," Sight Shifter watched Eddy and Thor race up the stairs.

"So did I, but apparently I don't. I was working with Draco, he had access to the farm. He had access to everything. I was a jerk to think I could trust him."

"I found a bug here! Very sophisticated. Probably receives, transmits, and can project an image. I bet it disguises it's transmissions to imitate household items." Sight Shifter was prying the bug out of an ornate overhead light fixture. "Plenty of energy around for it to stay charged."

"How much of Draco's performance was fake?" Sootlaw asked.

Sheely glared at him. "Those hidden movements were real. He got into the room, hell, he got into the building without being seen. And you felt those blows for real, you probably got a few nice welts yourself."

"Yeah, you're right, he sure could move fast." Sootlaw gingerly rubbed his thighs which had taken random hits like most everyone else in the room from both Greenie and Draco.

Veta joined Sootlaw, Hatracker, and Hector who were sitting around what was left of the table.

Sight Shifter brought the bug over to Greenie. She linked into it with her implant and the image of a naked Draco pointed towards the wall.

"At least we didn't lose the frementators this time." Hatracker headed towards the stairs.

"You're always thinking with your stomach," Sheely sneered at him.

"That's my second brain."

"You don't get it," Sheely put her hand on Hatracker's shoulder. "We just lost the best frementators in the world. They're on the ships we're locked out of."

"It's true, Hatracker." Manan joined him on the stairs. "The ones we're using here are clever copies, but very crude compared to the ones on those ships."

"You can print out a living person!" Sootlaw exclaimed. "Wait till I tell Modeany. He'll want to know about this."

"Not so fast, Sootlaw," Greenie glanced over at Herkimer. "We come from a single cell that's printed up, once activated it starts dividing by itself. It doesn't happen overnight, but it is pretty fast."

Sootlaw looked at Sight Shifter. "Can't our frementators do that?"

"No, our units can make single cells, but those cells can only make copies of themselves. And even then, we are still limited to which cells we can make."

"Let's check the newsfeeds. And speaking of feeds, who else is still hungry?" Hatracker called out from the kitchen.

Manan gave Hatracker a swift poke in the ribs, which put a pleased look on her face.

Greenie brought up the latest Dreaming News show. The live screens all showed green rain lightly falling around the world. "We're all gonna be stuck here a while, might as well relax, life just goes on."

"You got the relaxing part right, can't get past the illusions without it," Sight Shifter said.

**Chapter 31 The Usual Suspects**

### Ursa and Jersey

Horaces had snuck off Earth earlier in the day under cover of the mass exodus of Prezz's people and Merackle's flock from the CrossRoads spaceport. They arranged for Prezz's forces to load them onto ships bound for the EarthPort space station. Once there, they changed the transport plates on their crates and had themselves delivered to their own warehouses where they had previously assembled a fleet of four dozen, big, powerful, well-armed clippers. Jersey and Ursa made arrangements to use half of the clipper ships which Horaces had assembled for their getaway from Earth. Horaces kept twenty-four for their own use and twenty-four went to the newly created Free Space Navy. It was an easy matter for Ursa and Jersey to gather up twenty-four captains and crews. Everyone wanted to be on their own ship. And each ship came with a share of the treasure. The warehouse facilities belonging to Horaces had world class accommodations in all aspects compared to what Prezz's rank and file members were using. It was a sizable rotating station with gravity. The Free Space Navy had no trouble staffing their new headquarters with everyone not assigned to a clipper.

The dilemma of the alien mining ship doomed to self-destruction docked at EarthPort had forced several hands. Horaces used their vast resources to quickly get the ore out of the mining ship, putting some it on the forty-eight clippers, and the rest into storage in the warehouses of the new Free Space Navy. They weren't happy when Prezz had moved in to the neighborhood. Horaces didn't appreciate the way Prezz took over the space elevator operations, the main source of carbon, shipped from Earth, for the entire Free Space region.

Ursa called Greenie and was telling her what Horaces knew about Prezz's latest actions at Elevator City. Suddenly the conversation was cut short by the reappearance of Draco at Greenie's Farm.

"There's another nutcase on the loose," Ursa announced.

"What are we going to do?" Jersey asked.

"Foot still loaded?" She asked with a mischievous grin.

"Sure is, but we're way over here. We're recording everything he says in the dome, maybe that'll give us something."

Jersey and Ursa cruised over to the other side of EarthPort where they parked on a loading dock across from Prezz's studio dome. They had a clear view of the dome, the starry heavens, and the heavy traffic going back and forth. Ursa turned up the volume for the bug patch Jersey had planted in Prezz's dome. They could hear Prezz talking to Yawrack, giving him instructions for the latest Dreaming News stories, each one more outrageous than the last.

### Vicey Mars

Vicey Mars was freshening up in his palatial suite at Elevator City where he had just arrived. Multiple screens around the room gave him in a panoramic view of EarthPort and the news. He was watching a Dreaming News show featuring alien ships attacking the space mining stations. He had a nagging suspicion the ships in the news stories and the monstrous ship that had been docked out on the end of EarthPort were part of the same group, or maybe even the same ship.

As if the desertion of half the shipless space navy hadn't caused enough problems, now there was an independent naval fleet roaming around. He would have to contact them. No sense in pretending he knew what was going on. Too many strange events happening at once. Still, it wasn't hard to see what had happened to their hapless space navy. Give a naval operative a choice between driving a taxi or serving on board a mega clipper, he knew what he would choose. His smuggling contacts at the Cerapedals Group had told him the Free Space Navy had some real fire-power. If they were all fighting the same thing, maybe they could join forces. And now Prezz's dream of militarizing space had already been acted upon by someone else.

Suddenly a news alert flashed across the screen, advising the audience about another thrilling chapter in the alien space wars feature. He watched men with huge bat wings spraying green clouds of dust from their mouths. The announcer said it was poisonous, and the Sippers were spraying the whole world. He quickly called Noggy. "What's this about poisoned air?"

"It's not poisonous. We got readings, and you're not going to believe this, but it's pretty much the same dust the mining stations are collecting."

"And it's not poisonous?"

"No, pretty well diluted nano particles, nothing caustic. Very weak respiratory systems might have a slight problem, it's like a light smog."

"Is that all that's happening?"

"In every place where the dust first appeared, it's now raining lightly. Could be washing out of the sky because the rain is green. In colder places they got green snow."

"Have you seen the latest Dreaming News stories put out by Prezz?"

"Is that his work?"

"What do you think?"

"I try not to," Noggy replied.

"He's out of control, someone's gotta do something before he causes the Moon to fall into the Earth." Vicey watched a marauding whale-like ship crashing through a mining station, turning around and goring it again.

"Got some bad news. The people with those special ruby laser rods have disappeared. We can't track their shuttle, and there's no trace of them anywhere. It's like they fell off the Moon." Noggy waited for a reply. He could hear furniture smashing in the background.

"Never mind, I'll deal with those fools later." Vicey cut the call, then called Silky to check up on things and find out where their boss was holed up. Silky said he was hanging out in the gravity free dome.

His wand rang, it was his brother, he took the call.

"Everything Prezz is saying is fake," Sight Shifter blurted out.

"I've known that for a long time."

"I'll come right out with what I have to say. Have you got enough on Prezz to get him fired?"

"Not without involving me," answered Vicey.

"Maybe we could all put together the stuff that leaves us out of it, and squarely in Prezz's lap."

"Who else is in on this?"

"Friends, Sippers, Horaces, BodyServers, Dreaming News, most of Elevator City—"

"I got the picture, but you must have noticed Dreaming News isn't being very helpful."

"We got that covered. We just need a believable story to give them."

"Let me make this simple for everyone—"

"Who's talking now!" Vicey exclaimed.

"Relax, it's Horaces, they're the machines that run Earth's infrastructure," Sight Shifter said.

"What are they doing here?"

"They ran away, didn't feel safe on Earth any more. People make them paranoid," Sight Shifter said.

"What?" Vicey gasped.

"Never mind, but they seen plenty, and apparently they talk to everyone, including the Justice Machines," Sootlaw joined the conference.

"And Dreaming News is on board with this?" Vicey asked.

"Yup, I'm Sootlaw, any story we can put together I can get out on Dreaming News."

"I'll send you what I got, do what you can," Vicey said.

"Got it. Give me twenty minutes," Sootlaw replied.

Vicey cut the call, made a drink, sat down and put on the Dreaming News show and waited.

He finished his drink and was sitting on the bed when the Dreaming News started displaying multiple projections of a breaking story. Skillfully narrated by the Justice Machines they were announcing that Prezz Gredloy had just been fired from his post as President of the Artificial Currents Corporation for violating the Multiple Crimes Against Safe Food act, which immediately made him ineligible to have any governing role in the management of the Remaining Eastern States. Alongside Gredloy's frowning face was a picture of a grinning Silky, who was wanted for unlawful applications of genetic weaponry and attempting to start two unlicensed wars. The program showed various misdeeds by the Artificial Currents Corporation, including unauthorized sales and distribution of fresh seafood, tampering with Sips production, the illegal takeover of the Space Elevators Company, and all of it presented with carefully manufactured video evidence that only showed Prezz Gredloy and Silky personally managing the scheme. The Vototonics counters were going crazy, driven by people's extreme annoyance with bad food practices.

Vicey left his room and had just entered the elevator when his wand started squealing. The moment the doors opened, Vicey walked into a world of confusion. Guards were running all over the place. A National Space Navy Rear Admiral stopped him in the hallway, grabbing his shoulders. All he could do was babble, "It's a mutiny." Vicey knocked the man's hands away and shook him until he calmed down.

"Tell me what happened."

"There's no one in charge."

Vicey let the man go and called the head of the guard detail stationed outside of the wing where Prezz was staying. "Is Prezz Gredloy still in there?"

"No, he suddenly ordered up his personal shuttle and took off."

"Where's Silky?" Vicey was listening to his wand; reports of massive confusion on EarthPort were coming in from everywhere.

"He left with Prezz Gredloy.

"Everyone, shut up!" Vicey looked around at the surprised faces. "I'm in charge now."

A message appeared on Vicey's wand informing him the alien ships circling Earth had suddenly left for parts unknown. Maybe gone for good. He called Yawrack. "Drop all the stories about the space invaders and marauding Sippers."

"Yeah, I was just going to call you about that, Modeaney's running the show now. What do you want me to do?"

"Say Prezz has been stripped of his virtual wealth and has fled for parts unknown. You can announce I'm the new President of the Artificial Currents Corporation."

There was a moment of silence. "I'm sure I can make a great story out of it. Get top dollar advertising, let me know if you need anything else."

"Sure." He cut the connection.

The head of EarthPort's security force was waiting for him.

"What do you want us to do?"

"Get me in touch with the Free Space Navy."

"Anything else?"

"Yeah, round up the usual suspects, we got to arrest someone." Looking at his wand, he projected the Vototonics tallies for the new President of the Artificial Currents Corporation. The choices were thumbs up, thumbs down, and recall. He selected thumbs up. With a smile in his step, he headed to the banquet hall.

### The Streamers

A Streamers' view of the world changed abruptly when the beneficial nanobots designed to administer the drugs in gengineered food took on a life of their own. The wayward nanobots settled in the Streamers' brains, creating an intricately webbed crown inside of the skull which put them in touch with the hidden memory structure residing in the past, present and future. All sense of perspective was shifted to a vast circular area seemingly above their heads. As the Streamers' became aware of numerous airborne memory streams the orientation of their perspective switched from the land to the sky.

At first he had trouble remembering things. It was hard to recall answers unless he thoroughly understood the subject. Then he started answering questions by thinking out the answers instead of just trying to parrot a response he didn't understand.

He sensed a world within a world. Like an electric ocean. He was swimming through a great reef which was lying just under the surface of the materialistic world. The reefs of the electric ocean were honeycombed with machine-made cubby holes stuffed with scroll like objects. He could float over the reef, watching the memories stuffed in the cubby holes appearing and disappearing like the tiny cirri nets barnacles used for catching food.

Then a new component was added to his visions. He could see very bright spots of various colors in the far off distance, which pulsated at irregular rates. Some buildings had internal glow spots hidden inside their structures, which he could sense but not see. Some of these had different colored trailers of intense vibrations which swept off into the distance. Most went underground eventually, but some stayed in the sky forming giant glowing cobwebs.

He grew accustomed to the glowing landscape punctuated by billions of electric bugs. He could see the outlines of bushes and trees which were loaded with e-sniffers. It was like walking through the Milky Way. There were probably as many lights inside his head as there were stars in the sky. When the wind blew, sections of the light show inside his head glimmered in sync with the breezes.

If he noticed the streams were starting to concentrate around him, he'd move to another dead zone. His mind traced out all the memory streams, forming a three-dimensional web of dead zones, glowing orbs, memory clusters, and places where thousands of light streams crossed through the same point. After a while he found it quite easy to tune out the blizzard of signals in his mind.

Over time he had grown a physic tendril, his own personal streamer, which allowed him to invisibly touch the outside world. He had a feeling of comradeship when his personal streamer mixed in with other Streamers. He found a new sense of freedom sensing the personal streamers of others who were close by in the Empty Space everyone was blindly traveling through.

Over time the number of Streamers he personally connected with increased. It was starting to resemble a search light made out of intertwining filaments each with a mind of its own. The light was also talking to him. Making suggestions. Whispering muted thoughts. Like where to get an illegal implant that would cure all his problems. See the man at the corner of Smith and Oracle.

The implant made a world of difference. The all-consuming map in his head of the electric world was transferred to the background of his mind where he could refer to it without having to look through it to see the world. He was seeing the bigger picture. It was huge. The memory cloud extended for hundreds of miles in all directions. There were images, instructions, requests, and plans to carry out.

The implant enabled him to send images of the memory streams he saw in his mind to his other Streamer friends. They shared everything. Highest on the list were locations of the shifting dead zones, popular oases where they could relax and meet in person without being bombarded by the blinding memory snow.

After the Streamers' attack on the Westside hadn't gone as planned, and their leader, Draco, now dead, it felt like a great weight had been lifted from their shoulders.

He looked at the glowing world, drilling down to the smallest living components. Driven by greed starting at the lowest levels, the eternal flow of life could breathe a sigh of relief only during the twilight moments when the tides stopped rising or falling. They were constantly using and fighting each other, and then anyone left over, ate the left over pieces; ready to start up all over again. The most advanced life forms were simply colonies of thousands of micro size species all operating within the same body.

He realized the fountainhead of life was just a relay race with an infinite number of runners represented by every species. All of them participating in never ending arms races as they rushed to fill illusionary empty niches. He could see the space race perpetually rising up through each species as the fluid mass of animals and plants pushed each other aside with every step they took. Everything from viruses and microbes to the sacks of life colonies were helping and harming each other in their efforts to consume a planet which was always flowing in their bodies. They all survived by sharing their tools but not the common resources. On every scale battle lines were drawn. Coral communities were pushing each other back and forth over imaginary lines that marked their territorial expansions based solely on the goal of taking all the space available. The same battles can be seen on shelves in any kind of store.

The Streamer was sitting on a park bench enjoying the soothing green rain. It was extinguishing all the glowing dots that flooded his mind with endless trails that lead nowhere. The three-dimensional map of the world was still in his head, and it provided comfort and a sense of security. With his new found powers, he was confident he would find more answers in Empty Space than he would in the world around him.

Characters and Locations

Herkimer—Looking for mining work in the Asteroid Patch, out past Mars.

Merackle—College Professor, engineer, self-styled preacher, creator of Merackle space foam, a key building material in Free Space for protection against space junk, meteoroids and radiation.

Jersey—Miner on an asteroid mining station out past Mars.

Members of CrossRoads SpacePort administrative services

Cleo—CrossRoads Spaceport manager, Hector and Geo work with her in day to day operations.

Hector—CrossRoads Spaceport security officer, uses the Sight Shifter Detective Agency to help solve cases.

Geo—Quantum Reality engineer assigned to the CrossRoads Spaceport.

Sight Shifter—Senior partner at Sight Shifter Detective Agency.

Hatracker—Junior partner at Sight Shifter Detective Agency.

Crompton—Cofounder of Dogland, stays in the background of everything.

Eddy—Cofounder of Dogland, he is a Brain in a mobile canister, travels around Earth and Free Space.

Donovan—He is a Brain in a mobile canister, works with BodyServers and Horaces.

Thor—A Dog, resident of DogLand, hangs out with Farmerr and Eddy.

Alien test subjects, printed by alien frementators using human genes free of modifications caused by pollution, designed to provide memories of the effects of Earth's environment on humans. Some of them are using the Martian Maintenance Microbe instead of eating gengineered medicated food.

Greenie—Unofficial queen of alien Sipper faction, owns several businesses and research firms.

Sheely—She works for Greenie in the security division.

Veta—She works for Greenie in the security division, with Sheely.

Manan—Gengineer who works for Greenie.

Farmerr—Hangs out with Thor, Eddy, and Archey Wolfe. His sister is Ursa Rigel.

Archey Wolfe—Assigned to watch over Merackle, eccentric human industrialist.

Draco—Self-appointed King of Earth's Martian Maintenance Microbe Group, Mayor of New Mars, a city in a commercialized sector on the west side of the spaceport.

Dreaming News Company, they literally create the news and sell dreams.

Modeany—Cofounder of Dreaming News Company.

Yawrack—Cofounder of Dreaming News Company.

Axel— Employee of Dreaming News Company, nephew of cofounders.

Emma—Employee of Dreaming News Company, Axel's secretary and girlfriend.

Sootlaw—Employee of Dreaming News Company, works with Axel.

Winepoor—Employee of Dreaming News Company, works with Axel.

Harry—Employee of Dreaming News Company, works with Axel.

Artificial Currents Corporation—Corporation that governs the Remaining Eastern States region.

Prezz Gredloy—President of the Artificial Currents Corporation, dreams of ruling Free Space.

Vicey Mars— Head of the executive financial services of the Artificial Currents Corporation, and smuggler.

Silky—Chief enforcer of the Artificial Currents Corporation

Moon Workers

Cycle—Working on a Lunar underground water construction project.

Lector—Working on a Lunar underground water construction project, hangs out

with Cycle.

Horaces—National infrastructure system composed of machines and run by machines, it doesn't cover the entire planet.

BodyServers organization—A conglomerate of medical machines that operates out of Dogland, they run the remote BodyServer medical units that treat people and animals on Earth and in Free Space.

CrossRoads SpacePort—One of the many commercial centers linking Earth and Free Space.

Lower SpacePort—Partially developed area underneath the spaceport. It is home to hundreds of thousands of people, most waiting to get a job in Free Space.

New Mars City—Commercial and residential district on the westside of the CrossRoads SpacePort. Famous for Sips production.

Elevator City—Located in orbiting EarthPort, the entire city is corporate headquarters for the company which owns the giant space elevators that slowly move finished products down to Earth and bring raw materials and basic supplies, like carbon, up to Free Space.

Free Space—Region between low Earth Orbit and the Asteroid Patches between Mars and Jupiter.

Empty Space—Better known as digital space.

EarthPort—Main commercial hub orbiting in Free Space for distributing supplies between Earth and Free Space. Home of Elevator City.

DogLand—Logistics center for BodyServers organization. It is home to an enormous dog population that literally runs the place.

