Pages of redemption

Albert

2008-03-27T20:38:00.000-07:00

The world, what a decrepit place it had become, or was it simply too different from the pristine chaos it was before? A war here and there, oil being fought over in the guise of democracy being spread over the world, a nightmare Plato would never fully appreciate, lucky him that he's dead long before this happened। What exactly went wrong and how did all this change start to appear? With all these questions, Albert had no real definite answers to any of it. Theories maybe, but no answers. One theory was that some large amount of people made the wrong decision and voted in a long line of radicals. Radicals that had certain ideas about privacy, or the lack of anything resembling the word ‘personal.’ Because, inside every one of us is an anarchist ready to undermine democratic political structures. This would require that the voting system reflected the real needs and demands of the people it’s supposed to represent, and somehow Albert figured that the needs of the many just weren’t in someone’s mind when they sat down and started dictating the will of the few.

As he stood on the rooftop of the St। Pauls hospital in Vancouver with a pair of binoculars in his hands Albert surveyed the results of fear, and an unending dominance of the minutia of everyday life. It was a sunny day, and though someone would see him standing at the top of a large gray building, Albert was searching for a specific signal he would receive if everything was going to plan. A biker was supposed to flash a green flag about a foot long and a foot wide. It was neon green and very hard to miss. Biker’s did this if they needed to enter traffic and it also meant they passed through enough training and processing to enter the work force. Albert’s signal was made a moment later, as a 5'3" thin woman wearing a dark blue t-shirt and dark blue jeans, flashed out a neon green flag after getting on her bike. She had to wait a minute for an opening in traffic, she flashed the flag again and a white Toyota put on the brakes and let her in. She turned her head to the left suddenly, as if hearing something.

He was looking at the street, and spoke "Good work, Jen। Better hurry, the wolves catch the scent fast these days." The woman sped off on her bike and into the jungle of traffic. Albert watched as she made her way past cars and trucks. It was a wonder she wasn’t hit with only a few feet between cars. But, she made due somehow. Albert turned after a few moments as the woman turned into a quieter street. Jen would be ok, Albert was not that concerned about her, he wanted to know how she manages to weave through traffic like that. He watched the cars for a minute longer, as if on instinct, he watched how the cars drivers behaved. A lot of them just slowly made their way down the street during rush-hour, but Albert couldn’t ignore a dark blue uniformed officer raising his roundish bald head to the sky, and Albert lowered his binoculars. It was time to go, rather quickly too. Albert ran across the roof and as he strode, he just knew that the wolves had caught his scent somehow. Though, it was some distance away and perhaps the officer didn’t really see anything at all. But, something about the confident smile on his face told Albert otherwise. Something about how the man’s eyes were full of conviction and pride, that set Albert on edge. That they were just beyond the door, around the corner... or watching him now? He didn’t keep still, even if they were watching him, it was quite another thing to apprehend him... alive.

Then it struck him, it wasn’t him that was in danger... it was Jen. They were watching her, but why? What did they hope to achieve? She was a bystander, like thousands of other cyclist couriers in the city. She would only say that she delivered her usual package, and she would tell them what that "was". Supposed they tortured her and then she spurted out the proverbial cat out of the box of her throat. Still, the package was delivered and untraceable now. But, why? Why her... and then it struck him. She was an example. Albert ran across the roof of the building knowing that every moment counted. It could have been anyone at all, perhaps the plan wasn’t compromised after all. But, the word that stuck in his mind that wouldn’t leave with the cool passing breeze, was example. Example...

Jen was riding hard on her 12 speed and turned her head behind her before she made another turn to her right. She gasped hard, a white sedan was speeding toward her from the main street. She couldn’t go on the sidewalk, not with the parked cars in the way, and if she were to gun it she may be able to make it just before the sedan, that looked to be pushing 70 Km/h, would send her off of her bike and into the cement with wind that came off of the car’s acceleration. The white sedan, only four cars away from Jen’s rear tire, had a substantial wind at it’s back that one would find in the subway or a large tractor trailer on the highway.

Albert ran from the roof and found a ladder he had previously scouted for and sliding down the ladder, his only thought was that he put her in that position. Why? Just to prove that the people still had a voice? And that they were unable to stop it? Obviously they had other ideas. His questions would have to wait though, as he slid down twenty feet to street level stopping near the bottom as not to fall from the ladder and break a bone. He leaped from the ladder into a dead run realizing this is what they expected him to do. And yet, here he was doing it. He expected it because, because they took a gamble on whether Albert Grace cared for those he used for these excursions? This was true enough and he did care about them, people not much different than himself really. His gut responded to all this with a growing unease. As if the situation didn’t agree with what was last eaten. Albert hated this feeling, the pit in his chest feeling, churning like a cauldron or a furnace. He heard a radio transmission closer than he anticipated. It was right around the corner, the wolves were that close this time. The transmission didn’t say any distinguishable words, just a garbled jumble of sounds. He instinctively went for his sidearm, a small .38. He spoke into the radio once more, "Hey Jen babe.. Talk to me." His voice was insistent and full of worry. For a few moments he didn’t hear anything and then he realized, he may be speaking to the wolves right now at the other end. As the silence continued, Albert got the impression that this wasn’t going to be as easy as he planned. But, what went wrong and how did the wolves pick up the scent so quickly? Albert didn’t use the same contacts this time to setup the drop, in fact, he personally contacted Jen himself this time just to make sure no one else would be picked up down the line. This ruined communication in his organization, if you can call it that.

After more silent moments, a pattern of breathing once again picked up on the other line. Albert was hidden in a doorway. Albert carefully put his hand on the knob behind his left hip and tried to turn it. It was locked, but he had to try anyway. The click didn’t reverberate through the alleyway behind the building and Albert thought of another way past the wolves. The wolves in particular, were well-trained police officers that provided security for government buildings and private firms. These men and women had little regard for much other than a pay cheque, and who could blame them, with the kind of money they made. Albert didn’t like assuming they were all callous, but deep inside he had too many instances in their custody that did not make him believe any differently. His rap sheet went on for miles, like a contract with the devil, it never seemed to end. Besides, he had to get to Jen and make sure she was ok, or at least, bring about hell to anyone that hurt her. Damn respectability, he had somewhere to be and if these guys wanted it, his right hand had six bullets with their names on it. More indistinguishable radio chatter that Albert guessed was intentionally garbled. He couldn’t make out other sounds because of the fact that it was drowned out. He was sweating then not knowing the numbers that were around the corner, the hardware involved, how badly he would be beaten (if he was beaten). He listened to the radio in his left ear and asked again, "Jen babe, talk to me, Uncle Albert’s sweating bullets here." He heard a lot of random sounds, garbled mostly, and he guessed that whatever happened to Jen was still happening. He had to wait and listen for any response at all. The sounds gave him hope though, at least it wasn’t... dead silence.

He grasped his gun with his sweaty palm and putting his finger on the trigger, he continued listening to the sounds on the radio, a loud crash and then lots of garbled noise. It was enough to hurt his ear drums, but he kept the radio in his ear incase there were other noises he needed to hear. He looked about and found that other doors were at his disposal than the one he was pressed against. He needed to get to them too, incase the wolves opened the door he was pressed against and he was caught with his dick in his hand. The alleyway ended to his left, but it went on for ten feet until a big stone wall made the sky seem domineering. He slowly made his way from the locked door and running along the stonewall he saw a door at the opposite side of him, and it was the same grey metal colored door that he was pressed against. Likely, it was locked too. Besides, going to that door meant showing himself to the wolves before he absolutely had no other options. The other option, of course, was to go back up the ladder and really be caught with nowhere to go. Likely, they’d catch him halfway up and he’d have an embarrassing climb all the way down. He saw a door five feet at the edge of the wall and it was another grey colored door. He had to try it and make sure it was locked, or not. He reached it with a lot of sounds on his radio, more crashes and lots of steps running. Running? Was Jen running? Was she alive? He had to hope so, but who else would be running. He smiled as he made his way to the door watching the corner breathing evenly.

Albert put his hand on the knob of the door and, he turned to face it with his gun ready. He was unsure what he was going to meet at the other side. But he wasn’t going into a trap with a surprised face. That had no style after all, and Albert was all about style. His pistol was out in front of him as he turned the knob, some good news. The knob turned and he pushed the door open and took a step away from it. It opened with a girth, as if the door went on and on, Albert always expected it to open with a sudden flash of light, and then darkness with an underlying laughter that said, "We finally got ‘em." Albert looked behind him and kept his eyes off of the corner, what the heck were they there for, if not for him, he had little else to go, why didn’t they just come and get him and lock his anarchist ass once and for all? Albert couldn’t put it together right then, things didn’t add up. They had him in a dead end, and it was dumb luck that the door he used opened at all. Who knows where it went, and who knows who he would meet when he left the building, and would he even get there? All these questions rushed into Albert’s mind, but the most important one was, is going through this door going to get me closer to Jen? And, with that he went through the door, and found a light grey colour to the walls, floor and the stairs. The handrails were red, as were the many bars that met the stairs supporting the handrails when people were walking down. They also acted as guardrails during an evacuation procedure.
Albert did not hear anything in the stairwell and closed the door with one hand on the door while the other was on the knob turning it with a delicate hand.

He had to remember, Jen was counting on him, and it was then that a lot more crashes were heard in his ear piece. The sounds did not indicate what crashed, as it was all static in his ear, but the sounds themselves were enough to indicate that something was happening and that Jen, was likely, still alive. He heard more loud foot steps and another door slamming shut. Damn, that girl was in goddamned good shape to be running like this, but something was worrying him about it as well, who was chasing her and why were they so determined? He said, "What the hell’s going on? Who’s after you?" and this time, Jen replied in a lot of huff and puffs, as if she was out of breath. "They’ve got dogs after me, but I think I dodged ‘em. Fuck, what the hell happened?" Jen said with an exasperated tone of voice. "Don’t know, the bulls set a trap for us, that’s all I can figure. But they could’ve taken me awhile ago. I don’t know how they caught on." Albert couldn’t piece it together, but at least Jen got away, for now.

She said something else, in a quiet tone this time. As if the very air itself was stalking her. "I’m in a basement parking garage, in a utility room. I fucking destroyed so much shit to get these dogs off my tail, they’re persistent little bastards. They’re probably still out there." Albert sighed, relieved, "Good, stay there and I’ll make my way to you. Which building are you in?" Jen replied, "Just in an apartment building, on Dendreth and Corde." At that point, some barking crackles against the earpiece and Albert’s heart stops. Did those dogs hear the whole conversation and sniff her out? For several moments Albert remains still listening very carefully. Anger, rage and a hunger deep inside the barking, inside the ferociousness, inside the heart pounding fear of detection and worse. Albert did not hear any screams, or shrieks of agony, and determined that Jen wasn’t getting eaten. He knew that she was being as quiet as a mouse, quieter even. He heard men shouting then and figured, ‘damn, they found her.’ He walked up the stairs with a disappointed sigh, that he couldn’t get to her in time, and what’s more, that they did not pull off this scheme to perfection.

The scheme, however... was pretty simple. Jen had an unassuming package to be delivered to a certain pencil pusher that worked at the Maitre Company, a software security development corporation that frequently did business for the government when they were hired out by various government officials to secure Unix servers connected to surveillance equipment. The package was a new phone, ordered the other day, and inside the phone was a device to record conversations and useful information about who the phone calls were from and any switches that were used to access any particular person. Altogether, low level listening devices that wouldn’t be easily found or detected on the phone. Albert waited as the barking and shouting continued. Though, at no time, did he hear Jen’s panicked voice, or anything resembling a woman that was scared out of her mind. Albert asked himself, is she ok? Did they have their hands around her mouth and throat? Throat!?... Albert didn’t hear anything resembling a choke. And, if they quickly broke her neck, he would hear a crack. Though, nothing of the sort was there either. The shouting was indistinguishable from the barking and Albert couldn’t distinguish any real words. Something about it all seemed strange, but then suddenly, a man’s voice was very scared. Screaming something, though the earpiece garbled the voice, the shrillness of the scream made it impossible to really determine who it was. Albert wanted to take the earpiece out of his ear, it hurt his inner ear and it was bloody annoying.

He realized that Jen was at the other end of that earpiece and, likely, her survival depended on his ability to communicate to her. So, he beared the pain and kept his temper in control. It made it difficult to listen closely to anything that was being said, or screamed, and it was because of this that all of the detail of the sounds weren’t being entirely clear. These days, it paid to have close attention to detail, even if these days were tense like this with a flavor of intolerable annoyance. Albert took a deep breath and tried to put his fears aside. But the thought of dogs tearing at her, but it wasn’t her... it was a man. Poor guy, whoever it was. Wait... we’re they after Jen at all? Was that a real possibility? Had they all been after someone else? Albert walked up the stairs and at the sixth step up the second flight of stairs, Albert heard a heavy breathing. He kept listening as he walked up the stairs trying to determine who it was that he heard. The sounds grew quieter then and the man’s screams, whatever poor soul that it was, grew quieter and quieter as the dogs barking grew quieter as well. Albert had to wonder, deep down, if he had just invented the whole idea. But, someone did try to hit her on her bike, and someone did send dogs after her. Right? Right, yeah, Albert could figure that all out from the sounds he heard. And, aside from that, Jen did run because someone was after her with dogs and she was damn lucky to get away in a Utility room.

He said, "Jen, talk to me babe. Did we just get away clean?" And Jen replied, "I think I did. Damn, they were so close, scared the hell outa me. Are you alright?" And Albert, finally realizing his own situation, said "Yeah, I’m heading into a corporate office building, I’m in a fire emergency stairway right now heading up. There’s wolves outside with a lot of firepower." Jen said with a chuckle, "Typical for you then, have fun with your new friends. I’m going to find a bathroom." Albert chuckled and said, "Yeah, good idea. Meet you later a Starbucks." He thought about it for a second, that they were still at the door, or perhaps they’ve moved off. He walked back down the stairs and put his ear against the door. Though, right then he heard a loud thud on the door and the door gave a foot. Albert was thrown back against the stairs, but he was up quick enough and running up the stairs. He didn’t really feel a lot of pain, as the adrenaline flowed through him like lightning. The door was open a foot, but the hinges were busted and Albert was up the second flight of stairs by the time the door flew open with a large back battering ram and the white wash of sunlight pouring in. Shouting was heard as Albert made his way up the flights of stairs and he knew the wolves had been ordered to take him in. Though, they had the chance during the last twenty minutes of conversation, and just now they make their move? It didn’t add up, not completely. But he didn’t have time to consider it all in great detail, he was on the run. And the stairwell did not lead to any door ways. And, most of all, Albert remembered the old saying "Down is always easier than up."

Albert listened for the dogs, in-between the pounding of his shoes against the concrete, and the shouts of the men downstairs. A lot of them sounded gruff, and big, too much steroids and little room in their veins for any real blood. He hated those types of people. He continued his ascent, ignoring the pain in his leg muscles from the punishment of each step. He didn’t hear any dogs, no barking, no pitter patter of their paws on the cement stairway. However, he kept seeing the same dull grey walls that looked like they were just mashed together with paint and paper Mashe. But, he knew it was solid as a rock. The look of it just said that it was shoddily done. And the edges that poked out from the walls cut his hands when he pressed them against it. Damn, the walls of the building were against him and, if he didn’t find a door soon, they may just chase him into the roof and trap him. Might’ve trapped him already, but he had to be positive. Positive thinking was what he needed, more now than anything. He had been considerably negative so far, and a little optimism went a long way, Jen always said that. She was unwaveringly supportive when all things seemed to be lost. No doubt, she was wondering what the heck these noises were. But, Albert did not want to disturb her in the midst of her natural duties as a human being. She couldn’t help him anyway, and the farther away she was from him the better. Until, things calmed down, he was on the hitlist... again.

Albert heard the sound he was waiting for, the pounding of feet on cement, it sounded like boots and that was what really ate at him. They always sent military people after him because of his background. And all he had was a glock, and he wasn’t wearing any serious body armor either. These guys were covered in a kevlar material that resisted most flesh wounds. He had to aim for specific spots to really put them down, and unless he had a good shot, it was unlikely he could hit any of them. And heck, these guys were armed with machine guns and Uzi’s most likely. Somehow, none of this seemed all that fair. Albert just kept climbing the stairways and it was then, about six flights of the stairs from the bottom, that he spotted a red door. If it was locked, he could shoot the lock open, provided the bullet didn’t ricochet back into him. He climbed this stairway, with renewed vigor, and when he reached the door he used his left leg and tried to kick the door open. It gave an inch or so, and he got out his glock and fired it, just above the door handle. The door gave completely then and Albert kicked it open. He met a few office employees, women all of them with wide unblinking eyes. All of them wearing white blouses with brown and black skirts all looking at him completely still. He was pretty sure, that all of their hearts stopped beating then. But Albert, didn’t have time to waste considering this, he just ran through them and their eyes followed him. Their pale faces were evidence enough that they were scared. He wouldn’t have any trouble with them, likely, this moment will live on in conversation for months to come.

He exited the office through a brown wooden door with a metal handle that exited into a hallway with carpeting that felt easier on the feet. Doors were to his left that opened into other offices. Albert only needed a door to another fire escape, and he couldn’t use the elevators because they were controlled via a central security hub that could easily shut them all off. Albert did not want to climb any higher in the building since he was on the third floor, and there had to be another alternative exit. He searched the walls for fire extinguishers that usually had little maps around them to remind employees of fire escapes. He couldn’t see any, not in this hallway and he continued bounding down the hallway looking back not seeing any of the soldier boys yet. No doubt they heard the shot and realized he was armed. Proceed with caution, your following a lone crazy gunmen. Albert smiled at the thought, he was a lone gunmen. And, damn, all he really wanted was to drink coffee with Jen at starbucks. He didn’t want to shoot the president, he didn’t want complete anarchy, just coffee.

"Oswald I could really use ya buddy." Albert said as he ran down the hall looking for any doors marked emergency. All he found were the scared and confused faces of receptionists and office employees too frightened to come outside their offices. And, at the end of the hallway, was a corner. He was a meter away from the corner before a loud popping balloon went off in the hallway making a large cloud of dust just by his head, but a balloon didn’t make that kind of cloud, no, Albert then realized he had been given a warning shot, . He dropped to the floor, with his pistol in his hand arcing to aim at whoever shot at him, though the cloud of giprock made things difficult to see, so with his other hand, he wiped his eyes and waved away the dust. The dust stung his eyes, like an eye infection, but otherwise he was fine, just sudden shock waving through him and Jen’s voice, "Jesus, Al, get outa there!" coming in like a shriek in his ear. Albert had his gun aimed down the hallway but he couldn’t quite see anyone yet. He scrambled toward the corner of the hallway and his heart was beating thinking, as he hobbled on all fours, that he was shot and didn’t know it yet, that they would shoot him again and he’d be dead. Any moment now, they’d let the sharpshooter in and he’d be down for the count. It was just a matter of time now, Albert just shook his head and checked himself over, he blinked again not quite sure why he wasn’t seeing blood. Not on his arms, legs, or chest, stomach... nowhere. "I’m ok, I’m ok.. I’m getting out now, fuckers are shooting at me. And all I want is to go to Mexico and get a fucking t-shirt, YOU HEAR THAT, I want a fucking T-Shirt and a trip to Mexico." He yelled the last part down the hallway to make sure everyone heard it. "I’ll go with you, if we get out of this alive, Al." Jen said with a chuckle, "Thanks, Jen. I’ll hold ya to that. We’ll get married in a little chapel and live in the countryside with vineyard." Albert said in a humourous voice. Jen replied, "What? Us? Bah, forget that." Albert sighed and with mock disappointment he said, "Aww, your breaking my heart, but will you settle for coffee at Star Bucks?" And after a moment of silence, Jen said, "Sure."

Another pop is heard, and Albert blinked a third time, as the hole entered the wall behind him as he hugged the corner. These people were really trying to kill him, at that point, Albert got up and raced down the hallway toward a large red door. He pressed his hand on the metal panel on the door on a larger metallic vertical horizontal rectangle and pushed the door open. He raced down the steps and he heard no voices coming after him, or any real voices at all, anywhere. Perhaps he lost them? He couldn’t quite stand to be that optimistic yet, there wasn’t any sense to it if these guys were any good, that is. Hell, he could be running down the steps toward them right now, he didn’t have much choice in that though, it was either this stairway, or he had to take his chances with the trigger happy soldiers in the offices. No thanks, not on your life, hell, my life, and Albert’s mind was set after that. He continued in haste down the polished white concrete steps and then, two floors down from where he started, he saw a red door. Though, he opted not to take it, he wanted to be on street level and out of this infernal building before all of the soldiers in the whole country combed it for him. He had to leave the building and somehow find Jen. Star bucks was more of a codeword then an actual rendezvous. Who could say where Albert would enjoy his coffee, and who would guess that he actually liked tea a lot better? It was something purely left to the imagination, but still, anything to throw them off of the scent. Albert was aware of simple things, from his words with Jen, she was alive and well, and not in custody or being coerced. Starbucks told him all of these things. He was content in knowing that, if nothing else, at least her efforts weren’t gone to waste. She was alive after all, and if any reports came in from their little "device" then the mission was a success. All Albert had to do was survive and make it out into the world and go into hiding for a week or two, or perhaps quite a long while if his face was caught on camera. He continued down the white concrete, resembled something out of a 007, in the bowels of a secret base somewhere in Russia. He wasn’t anything like James Bond, and didn’t even try to emulate the character, and anytime he remembered those movies, something triggers in his head. As if the danger of the situation completely materializes in front of him, and he took a deep breath, clearing his head of the panic and the anxiety of being on the run, scared and alone. Though, thinking this was one thing and doing, of course, was entirely different.

Albert listened as he came down the steps, two floors down from the first door he found, and he continued past it। He heard a loud thud on that door and started running down the steps, he was sweating, not out of the sheer physical exhaustion, but something stirred deep within him, a latent fear of being caught, especially for doing espionage like this. Though, all they could pin on him was evading police, resisting arrest, and use of a firearm that he had no permit for, disturbing the peace, and being downright stupid. They could make up any other charges that they liked, it didn’t matter to Albert. Once they had him, that was that, he’d clam right up and state some serial number, a random name, and they’d torture him to get some useful information. Though, Jen hearing a codeword Albert would use to alert her of his capture, would send her into hiding and on her way, ironically enough, to Mexico. He had used Mexico before, but only as a joke. Merely to make her feel less panicked herself. He heard her in his earpiece, "Moving to Star bucks, wait for you. Over and out." Albert didn’t reply as his heart was thumping as he descended into the darkness of the basement cellars of the corporate office building. His whole world became darkness then, though, having to suddenly, feel his way around after such a dead run, had it’s share of complications. Whoever these guys were, they likely had flashlights. It was not something they ignored in their budgets, how could they anyway?

Albert found himself on the basement level with a stairway leading to a dead end. Though, not completely, there was a door there, it was just too dark to see anything. Albert had to stop and blink, as his eyes adjusted to the darkness, and find the wall with his left hand. Once he did that and felt the coldness of the concrete with paint over it, he felt the smoothness of the paint job but couldn’t see it as light reflecting off of the white walls did not pour further down the stairway. He ran his hand along the wall while he walked at a normal pace trying to keep calm, but somehow knowing his time was very limited indeed if he wanted to get out of this in one piece. His foot hit a janitors pail with a mop handle that struck him on the side of the head. The noise echoed in the darkness and he couldn’t help but say, "Damnit." Though, rather than making more noise in trying to keep the pail steady. He moved away from it and it maintained itself to stand upright. He had watched too many movies where this always gave away the good guy.

And cursed himself again for falling for such a thing. Still, he did not feel wet, and guessed that the pail was empty. He did not hit it very hard with his foot and he realized, that other janitorial equipment must be placed near the pail, and that he should be a lot more careful if he wants to remain quiet in this place. He swallowed and took a deep breath, breathing in the smell of chlorine, detergents and other cleaning chemicals. He had not noticed this before, but it was clear that this little area of the corporate office building where he was, had little value other than to server as a storage space for janitors. It meant to Albert that janitors frequented this spot, perhaps regularly. But then, why was the light off? Did it serve his purposes that the light was off? And he shook his head of that thought, for some reason, he preferred the dark and didn’t think he’d ever find the light switch.

He then realized, perhaps there was no light switch, as his hands did not find any। And, he wondered if any of these janitors kept flashlights। That’s what he really wanted, a flashlight. By far, the perfect tool if he wanted to hide down here, or even, find a way out. Especially, to find a way out. That was his number 1 goal, hiding only meant that it may take them longer to find him, but they inevitably would. Despite all that he might do, all the doors he may barricade and lock, they would eventually find him. Unless, he was no longer in the building, that is. He knew that he could hit more noisy random objects if he just stumbled around in the dark, though what other choice did he have? At this point, his eyes were adjusting a little to the complete darkness, even if he didn’t see anything beyond his own hands spread out before him, it was enough to move with slow even steps, fanning his foot out to act as a cane. Because, essentially, he was blinded by the darkness surrounding him. He didn’t fear the dark, not at all, he feared what was withheld in the impenetrable depths. His foot would hit the odd handle or pail, but he made his way along the floor keeping a foot or so between him and the wall he was previously sliding across. He must have hit at least, three or so, before the row of pails gave way to an open space. He heard a voice say, from the stairwell, "I know I heard something, sir. Something like a banging sound, but that was like twenty minutes ago and I didn’t have backup to go search the place myself." And another voice cuts in, rather suddenly, in an angry tone. "Damnit, when you suspect you hear something, private. Investigate and don’t bother coming on anymore missions if your afraid of the dark. Dismissed!" Ouch, though Albert didn’t pity whoever it was that got the bad end of that ultimatum. It also meant that whatever was in that open space, was the key to Albert’s survival. He quickly stepped into it and put himself in line with a hard metal surface. He recognized the texture of the metal and realized it was a door. Just as the steps were becoming loud with the boots of armed soldiers, lead by a commander, he turned the knob and it opened. A click and then a louder click and he thrust it open, hauled himself inside the door and slammed it shut. He did have light in this room, or basement hallway, as it became apparent. It was enough light for him to make it way down the hallway, with miles of pipes, valves and crude warning labels on everything in red, yellow and white. It was about eight feet wall, this hallway, enough room for him to run at full speed, which is exactly what he did.

He heard that same angry voice, from before, the commander no doubt, shouting orders to pursue, apprehend, under any means necessary. And this only made Albert run faster. He looked ahead, and another hallway veered off to the right of the main one, into a smaller hallway. Albert took quick note of the plain light gray door there, and then, as if deciding to take it, the door was banged open and Albert jumped into action, getting out of sight before anyone saw him. Though, not before a shot rang out echoing like a thunderbolt through the tight corridors, and rebounding off of the metal piping on the walls. Albert had to note the irony that the bullet caused a slight dent in a gas line, with a big red label warning of explosive risks. Albert had to wonder who trained these fools, but he didn’t have time to laugh about it. His heart was beating, everything in him told him to run very quickly down the main hallway. Jen must be worried sick by now, but what choice did he have, at least, the sounds of his shoes against the cement gave the impression that he was running and alive. She would take comfort in that, as much as he did earlier. Albert, however, had bigger problems as he heard the tell tale sounds of an angry and vicious barking strike deep within his heart. Damn, why did these idiots always use dogs? Did people know what they did to them to make them so angry? If any of those activists were still alive, they’d be protesting.

Sadly, they were all killed precisely because they were protesting, and throwing rocks, teargas, and Molotov cocktails. He had helped make those cocktails, wonderful things and flashy enough to make things front page news. As more bullets ricocheted off of the pipes he most feared a sudden silence before the whole place exploded into kingdom come. Something told him, these are the guys that have always been chasing him, hunting him and hounding him since day one. Now they were so close, they could taste it, and damn propriety, rules and regulations, and most fo all, decent common sense. A bullet bursts open a pipe beside Albert’s left side releasing a superhet jet of steam causing Albert to become very aware of pain, as the heat scorched his skin and clothes. He bit on his lips and had to focus considerably to keep from keeling over. He knew the second the shot would be aimed at him. Though, the steam, did provide a cover for his escape and, though he was dizzy and disoriented from the blast of hot air, it allowed him time to come to his senses, enough to continue running. He found down the hallway, a lot more of these secondary hallways ending in dark dead ends, or more ominous red doors. Somehow, Albert knew that picking a door was a game of roulette. He didn’t want to take the chance, not with murphy’s law fully in effect. There was something about this that seemed to be a cruel joke. We have the escape route here, but where is it? Eh? Which door, you little bastard, which door is free and clear to Mexico and a beautiful brown haired escape artist? I’m holding the key right here, has a number, what is it now? You got so many guesses, numbered ya know, your choices I mean, numbered. This can’t last forever, eventually, it’ll just stop, pipes and bullets, pitter patter of feet, the growling feast you’re going to provide for the hell hounds. The bullet in your gun you’re going to use on yourself, better dead than alive, can’t let ‘em catch you after all.

Albert could very well understand all those feelings, fears and harsh realities. As the bullets whizzed past his head, he counted down the secondary hallways and then chalking up all the rest of his courage, he veered into the nearest hallway he could find. He was sure that the hallway went on for quite awhile, but they expected him to continue going forward and likely had a team watching the end of it by now. But, if he choose a random one and came into a new building to navigate his way out of, that was a better prospect. Assuming that they weren’t watching this specific door, that they didn’t have a team ready to have it burst open when he came upon it, and, most of all, that it was barred shut. He heard the dogs, their wild barking and growling coming closer, and he took his pistol out and fired at the door knob making two holes in it. He ran towards the door with his right foot and tried to kick it open, connecting with a solid left roundhouse, flinging it wide into another long hallway. Jesus, at least, it was long. He slammed the door shut and continued on. Likely the shots alerted anyone as to his location. But he made sure to close the doors with a firm slam before he continued on.

He checked his gun, only two bullets left. He would hope he would use them to put some of these bastards away. He wanted to take a few down before they apprehended him. It was his right after all, they’ve been hunting him for awhile now, years even, and it was damn time he struck back. Whoever it was going to be, a married man with kids and a wife, another crazy lone gunmen like himself, someone just had to do something stupid and Albert wouldn’t give it a second thought. He continued running down this new hallway, unable to find an secondary hallways, sprouting off into uncharted territory. He was happy that he found access to the underground network here, and that he had enough bullets to defend himself should any of the crazies rumored to live down here decided to try their luck on fresh meat gave him some comfort, besides what followed this full course meal, was a lot more than anyone could chew. It was then, running down the length of the long hallway, with pipes full of steam, gas and human waste, that he finally quit his mind of the insane doubts running through his head, as hard as his feet were hitting the concrete. He had gotten away and the only thing he had to worry about were the dogs. It was enough leverage that he didn’t have to worry about bullets, not now anyway. And if he managed to gun down the hounds, he may be unmolested for quite while down here. The only thing was, that with all this metal in the area, the signal to his earpiece cut out and that meant communication was severed with Jen. Oh well, Albert thought, can’t have everything. He steadied his breathing and his pace as not to tire himself out entirely. He had a ways to go, but he could feel his chest hurting, and a tinge in his left side, a cramp. Wonderful, he hated cramps, just fucking wonderful. It hurt with every step but he ran on focusing on the cruelness that would occur if these guys got a hold of him. He did not want to become dinner for the dogs, not at all.

He then looked down the hallway, a mass of pipes that just continued on and on. But, in the luminescence of yellow lights, he saw a ladder. A ladder! That meant, this was directed below the street, some street anyway. He saw that it was, approximately, thirty feet away. He held his pistol tight and then looked behind him to take note of any dogs that caught onto his scent. He saw one a ways off running with it’s tongue hanging out of it’s mouth, a large brown German Shepard. He loved German Shepard and made a bolt for the ladder rather than emptying a round into it. He’d hit it, that was sure, he was an excellent marksmen. But he was sure, he could make it to the ladder before the damn thing got a hold of him. He heard the barking, and the ladder neared, he pinched his cramp that just became too bad to ignore. This caused his step to become a little slower without the coordination of both steps and both arms. But, he ran quickly enough, he didn’t look behind him and just knew that the Shepard was catching up. Just like, I Am Legend, this thing was built for endurance and running faster than most people. Sam would be jealous of this dog, Albert could hear the paws sooner than he expected and hated that he had to use his pistol to fend the thing off, aware that he had to keep at least one bullet. Not specifically for himself, though if it came to that, he would. They had ways of making people very cooperative, and none of it really involved a sincere application of discomfort either. They just, lulled people into it, like a sort of trance like sleep. Albert heard stories of even the best, spilling all their guts, figuratively speaking. Albert, turned suddenly, without warning and aiming his gun aimed at the Shepard paw. The hound was ten feet away preparing to leap, only to let out a loud yelp that echoed down the hallways, and then Albert heard something he did not want to hear at all. It wasn’t the dreaded silence before the storm, he had lots of that, no.. it was the sound of a lot more dogs, way too many to pick apart and count. And, it was growing into a roar, all of the barking, growling and biting would be closer than Albert ever considered before. All of it heading straight for him. The shot sent the mind of the dog from it’s prey, to the sudden pain in it’s front left paw. Albert only had to hurl the hound aside and continue running, but Albert underestimated the force behind the hounds leap.

Making him topple over and the hound was biting at his face, all the while, the growling continued to get louder and louder. Albert held a firm grasp of his pistol and, the look on the German Shepard’s face truly frightened Albert the most. It was a look of pure anger, hate and mercilessness. The damn thing fought hard, despite being shot, as if angry at his attacker. Albert had to hit the thing in the side with the butt of his pistol a few times, and even then the bloody thing grasped a hold of his wrist and bit down quite hard. Albert screamed, and he tried to hold it in, as he continued his attack. It was then that the hound gave way to the pain on it’s side and Albert shoved it aside. He held his wrist and though the pain shot through his arm and the rest of his body felt weak, he stumbled toward the ladder trying very hard to keep his focus from fading out entirely. The pain was almost overwhelming, and the hound really knew how to bite. He heard the many barks and growls as the dogs entered this hallway, Albert then made a dead run toward the ladder and, clamoring onto it, he hauled himself up using one hand to pull upwards. He put his gun away and as he reached the fifth step, the dogs were at the base of the ladder jumping up to pull their prey to the floor. He was scratched quite a few times, each one stinging and igniting his nerve endings. Though, he made it up farther up the ladder as the dogs were only able to grab at his ankles now.

He stepped up two steps at once, and quickly made his way to the top, sliding the plate up and over onto the street. He heard the anger below him, at failure, perhaps that their prey got away. Albeit it wasn’t unscathed, and his injury may be infected soon. Albert was happy that nothing worse happened. It was enough that his hand was hurting pretty badly and he’d have to deal with keeping the blood hidden. He climbed up and onto the sidewalk. Lots of tall buildings all around him, and passerby were giving him scared and concerned looks as he held his wrist with grimaces on his face. They knew well enough, that he was on the run, and somehow dangerous to even assist him. But, more so, was the sound of the dogs beneath where he came from that really scared them. They knew well what that meant.

He said, "Made it out, fuckers got my hand. Jen?" And he heard a reply, "Jesus fucking Christ, you scared the hell outa me, are you ok?" Jen said with a tone of anger, yeah, she hated not knowing as much as he did. "Yeah, fine. Little blood, but I’m ok. Meet you at Star Bucks." He said with a deep breath, trying to keep his mind off of the throbbing and the bleeding, and the deep cuts into his veins. "Star Bucks." And he was happy, he continued his way to the corner and laughed to himself. "My jobs are getting too reckless." He said and shook his head. The sight of a man with his hand bleeding and many rips in his pant legs must be a shock to anyone looking from the street. Some point and grimace, their insides turning with the mere thought of what did that to this poor man, others are apathetic having seen this time and time again. It was always the same result, a dozen steps and some policemen shot him in the street. Maybe they made it into a building somewhere, and perhaps they were able to nurse their wounds before someone turned them in. The assumption that a good relationship would be garnered if continued services for the police force was issued. This meant little to Albert, having done the whole ball of wax several times, he ran down the street knowing very well these bastards wanted him dead. It was simple logic for Albert, stay in one spot and nurse the throbbing in his hand, that threatened to overtake the rest of his senses, and find himself meeting a standard issued .45 in a dark cell. Everyone sort of knew, whoever survived the recruitment process, had to be avoided unless there was no other way. Only because, through the grapevine, from one tenuous ear to another, something just wasn’t right about it. "Did’ja hear? They mucked Johanson down on 4th, it was a massacre. He’d gotten away from ‘em for a minute, cause there’s that lil’ alley between that pizza place and the bank. Anyways, don’t go down there if you know what’s good for ya." I mean, it was no skin of anyone’s back if some joe got iced, but still... some joe is pretty broad terminology to use. Everyone uneasily laughs when it’s brought up, and then, well people just learned the hard way never to mention it in public. Everyone just kept their heads down, kept their hearts beating, swallowed an apple a day and still it was filled with the littlest pins that struck deep in the breast. To some, nothing tasted good anymore, and it was kind of pointless to be optimistic about a poor joe with a bleeding hand and tattered jeans. Still, there was a young girl, about 11 or so, with long brown hair wearing a navy blue jacket and a woolen hat of many different dark colours reminding Albert of Christmas.

She was with her mother, a tall but slim woman with similar hair as her daughter, wearing a white jacket with a black blouse and skirt, her legs tinted dark with pantyhose. She raised her hand to Albert and said, mouthing really, no words actually came out. "Hey, your going to make it." Her pink lips were full of happiness then, at that precise moment, everything Albert felt seemed significantly less painful, he smiled back and quickly jerked his head to look in front of him. He didn’t want anyone catching on, and she was quiet as a mouse, no doubt doing the same thing. She walked along with her mother and Albert went the opposite way down the middle of the street, making his way toward an alleyway. The mother and the little girl passed a payphone, and the little girl took a look at who was making the call, but he was turned away from her and all she saw were a pair of big blue jeans and a black jacket with a shining collar hiding the face. She turned from him and continued walking down the street past the payphone holding her mother’s hand and looked back in the direction Albert was running. Saying in her mind, ‘you have to make it, someone has to make it.’ She didn’t hear what the man was saying, it was muffled and difficult to discern.

Albert knew he didn’t have much time, before the wolves caught his scent once more and he had another race on his hands. Though, he was only a block or two from the meeting point, he guessed. And it was a rough guess, at that. He knew he was on Sentrith, as it was a strip for corporate high rises, and not a lot of hiding places. And any that were around housed occupants that were best left undisturbed. Albert used to handle these types regularly, heck, he was one of those policemen that are now chasing him. Have been chasing him for a long time now, years even, since he left the force. And now, after all of his brazen acts marking him a anarchist, releasing information for freedom, and serving as a beacon for others.

He needed to be put down, to quell a thousand voices in a single person. That person’s bleeding and on the run, sure. Things could be better, and it’s so close to being tied up nicely. All they have to do is find him, nice and tied from loss of blood, sick with infection, perhaps trapped in the dark and forbidding stone walkways in between the corporate castles standing to converse with god himself. They were too tall, that was known and accepted, and what was suspected was.. What the heck were they doing all the way up there that they couldn’t do at ground level? Albert had no idea.

The walkways between these behemoths of architecture had it’s own rules, only because a lot of these police officers did not want to venture in. All of them considered that Albert had a secret connection within this darkness and confusion, a land without qualms, just a foot or two of solid stone away from acceptable society in every direction. Here, oddly enough, everyone’s preconceptions were both fully acceptable and completely wrong. There were times, yes, that these people were completely unforgiving and other times, these people would accept a victim on the run, the price was that none of these people could ever leave this paradise of darkness. Why would they anyway? At that point, running blind in the streets meant nothing else mattered. What’s more, the destruction of a thousand little shards of someone’s life, has within it a sliver in someone’s heart that twists and cuts a little deeper. Why not? The deeper something digs into someone’s brain, the harder it is to remove without causing collateral damage. And, often times, new comers see the damage, the burnt remains and an arm that won’t stop shaking. They can’t help but wrench in a self inflicted agony as every piece of their pretty life falls apart. These people are met with an unwavering set of eyes, only for a minute, and then turning on a dime they’re left to the shadows, to the cold lightless hell.

Albert blinked his eyes, as the sunlight faded from view, and he didn’t hear a single voice. In the darkness, there was just him, wasn’t there? He didn’t hear anyone else, nor did he see a bloody gosh darned thing. He didn’t dare call out and give away his location, he just slowly made his way forward careful not to hit anyone in his path. He was loud enough with his feet however making the descent into shadow that much more noticeable to anyone even somewhat close to him. However, what he couldn’t see, he can feel. It was a cold stone brick wall that his hands were sliding against, smooth, and cold enough to make one feel vulnerable even with their clothes on. It crept under the fabric just enough to be noticed and it made his skin clammy in some places and full of goose bumps all down his legs. His journey continued into the depths of darkness, a place he had been before, though not nearly often enough to waiver the price of admission. The price of admission, was the ability to completely accept the stark reality that went on in this place, and if you couldn’t help keep this place from crumbling beneath the might of shadow, it was a brutal truth that came for that unfortunate soul. Albert however, he was aware of the situation and being injured and the anarchist political figure that he was, a place like this was both at threat of becoming part of the news, or, they might bring out the big dogs to do a sweep. In which case, the walkways would shut off completely, and it would truly be empty. The situation was not completely grim however, not for Albert Grace. And, one preconceived notion was correct, he did have a contact inside this insane maze. He did not have a clue where this person was, or if even this man was still alive. Albert quietly said, after realizing there was no turning back, at least, not yet. "I’ve entered Shadow land, get yourself safe. Are they still after you, Jen?" And he heard a response, "Jesus man, you like living on the edge constantly, don’t you. Alright, fine, you crazy bastard. I’m pretty sure they won’t be searching for me anymore. Besides, it isn’t my face that’s on the Most Wanted posters now is it?" Jen did not speak anymore than this and Albert scoffed. Yes it was HIS mug on the Most wanted list, and it was his list of horrendous deeds against the state listed in black ink against white paper for all to see. Jen was just a courier, no need for her face to be anywhere but firmly on her head.

Albert’s eyes continued to adjust to the darkness and he took a look at his hand, as the remaining light illuminated the blood that seeped from the bite wounds. He hoped none of them had rabies. He had no desire to be considered more dangerous. Hell, his name was a house hold curse now, to the woe of Albert’s everywhere. He stood in the dark with a bright sky above him, though because of the tall buildings on both sides of him, the shadow they cast blanketed the whole area with a dark malaise choking any beauty such a place may hold were the buildings quite a bit shorter. The space, a few meter’s wide, between each brick wall held a constant moisture in the air, condensing on the walls, and collecting in pools under foot. Albert walked forward as his eyes adjusted completely to the darkness. He did see someone outlined in the darkness, as if the light bouncing off the buildings did manage to reach this one scar in the city, leaning against the wall rebelling against the cold on his back. Dressed in dark leathers, were they leathers? They did not reflect anything, but his Caucasian skin gave him away against the bricks. He stood about 5 feet tall looking Albert’s way, as Albert moved closer through the fog he could see the features of his face. An angular face, sharp looking eyebrows, rugged build and both of his hands in dark gloves. His eyes studied Albert carefully, as if the fog played with his eyes as well. When Albert was six feet from him, the man said, "Stop. Your bleedin’ what shit’re ya bring’n ‘ere?" In a threatening harsh tone.

Albert first thought it was to make up for his small stature, but then realized he was a lookout and there were lots more hidden beneath him that he previously walked over just waiting for the right word. Albert gasped with the throbbing pain in his hand and wrist, and curiously, his leg also hurt a lot too. Maybe the damn muts got it too, it made sense after the pain shot through his leg as he tried to stand straight. He shook his head trying to conquer the pain that shot through him without mercy. "Dogs... dogs got me. Fuck this hurts bad. I was chased through the underground. Lost ‘em though, they ain’t coming through here. Don’t even know where I am." Albert hoped it would click in, no one had followed him in and if someone did call, they’d have to send some stupid smuck in these alleys after Albert. Though, it was Albert Grace they were searching for, not some junkie hoodlum going for his next fix. Albert understood this man didn’t want Albert Grace to bring the shit down in these alleys. But, where did Albert expect to go? He looked at the short man slowly uncross his arms and look Albert over up and down. All of a sudden, a noise comes from below, sort of like a crash of metal against concrete. Though, what was more alarming was the man’s completely impassivity to the whole event. Albert could no sign that anything was about to happen and he smiled a little when a piece of concrete cracked beneath Albert’s feet. Albert tried to dodge away, but the ground beneath him crumbled and, with his legs injured as they were, he could only stumbled causing him to fall further into the hole beneath him.

Albert knew this would hurt, somehow he just expected everything to hurt if he lived through this, his pessimistic mind conquered then and he had a dozen fears. Will he be stabbed and will the knife be twisted to ensure that the wound will not close? He felt hands grab him, big rough hands, the kind that are used to getting hit with hammers and remain perfectly good. Albert felt their intense grip wrap around his legs and drag him along a concrete floor. His back hit the cement with a thud, he grunted and moaned as the pain in his back made his legs hurt a lot more. Though, the large ogre of a man had a firm grip on them. He had janitors clothes on, dirty with oil everywhere, and Albert couldn’t see his face because his back was turned.

Albert guessed his weight to be about three hundred, and standing about 6'5". Albert’s concentration was not the best though, shifting between his pain and his surroundings. His head was jumbled and confused trying to remember the corners that they took, but there were so many. It was then that his consciousness faded and he went completely dark then. His last sensation was a set of large hands picking him up. It was the size of the hands, like a gorillas hands. Whoever this guy was, he could easily be a wrestler, on his sheer size and strength alone, like Andre the Giant.

His eyes hurt, his hand hurt too, but not as much as his calves. It hurt like pressure was being applied drove needles in even deeper into the yielding flesh. He awoke with a start that caused his face to wince, as lightning struck his nerves in his left leg. "Hey calm down. If I don’t do this right, it’ll get infected. Now lie still." And, with the soothing though irritated feminen voice, he laid still realizing he was being stitched up. The voice sounded young, and very much a cosmopolitan sounding person, with an english accent. He felt the cushions of a couch, an old one with the smell of many old men, older women, and even older dogs deep in the fabric invading his nose, and mouth. He didn’t care for the smell, but at least, there was some first aid being done. He opened his eyes then having been woken completely by a prick into a sensitive nerve, he had to bite his lip to keep from jerking. The woman, with lots of straight brown hair, He knew the needle was in his flesh and a jerk might keep it there to be removed later in a highly evasive fashion. Even if his face winced with every second prick, every time a new hole was made. He lost count of the holes, after some minutes, though he counted five or six in his left leg. Eventually, after the pain went away, in waves, he took a deep breath never enjoying having stitches.

It occurred to him then, just out of the blue, like a thought about a song that was long forgotten coming into view, to be extremely grateful. He’s alive, goddam it, he’s alive! He expected to die, to be dog food, worm food even. His whole world, a few pin pricks, the needle going through the flesh followed by a string, and the waves of pain down his arms. All of it felt reassuring, as if reminding his heart and his nerves that they were attached to a living organism, something breathing, with blood flowing, and his jaw biting on the pain so it doesn’t reverberate through his entire body. He lay there and said, "Hey, thanks. I.. Guess I owe you a lot, a lot more than I’m ever able to. My name’s Albert.."

And before he could say his last name, she said, "Grace, and your welcome. Despite what you might hear about us, we’re only trying to survive. And some of us, at least, have a soft spot for brave men like you. That doesn’t mean I like you.. I just like what you do. What you’ve been doing. And your doing great.. Just keep still and this’ll be over soon." The reassuring voice calmed him right down, like it was his mother, the voice of a nurse. Albert couldn’t get over that comparison. "You a nurse?" And she replied, "Yes, well, I was. St. Paul’s Catholic Hospital. Before it was closed down." She said, matter-of fact like. He winced at the last stitch and swallowed hard. She said, "There, I’m done. You took quite a beating, and you’ll likely get itchy in a few hours. I sanitized what I could and I don’t expect any infections, but if anything does get infected well... we can’t do much with the equipment we have. So, just make due. I’m sure your used to doing that by now." Albert replied, "Yeah, that about sums it up, right there. If worst comes to worst, I’ll push it out. Don’t worry about me, you’ve done great. What’s your name?" He asked, and she replied, "Gloria." She smiled at him and put his needle and thread away into a small metal box lying on a wooden coffee table.

"Pleased to meet ya, Gloria. I’m indebted for your handiwork.. I can find my own way out I think. No need to trouble yourself any—" and he was cut off then. "Hey hey, your not going anywhere, look out there your as good as dead. You realize the commotion you caused getting away?" She said in an exasperated voice. "Oh.. Yeah, well.. I’ve got a lass I’ve got to meet and I mean to get to her one way or another. It’s important. So if you’ll just point me in the right direction." Albert said and tried to get up. He felt weak, and knew he lost some blood, probably a lot. He put his foot on the floor and as he slid off the couch, his foot felt the pressure and buckled. He saw the floor rushing to meet him, embracing his soft flesh with unforgiving arms. He would grunt, but weariness came over him from the impact and all became darkness.

In the darkness, the soothing nothing, he saw a bright light in the distance. Quite a distance away, though with a dream he was never quite sure, it could be much farther than he originally thought. It just seemed barely palpable, and yet unmistakably there. Something like a mirage, deep in the lightless deserts, lacking every bit of reality the mind yearned for grasping point. Something real, a hand hold, to guide him through this ethereal jaunt. For Albert, this vulnerability left him feeling naked, cold and full of goose bumps. Yet his mind couldn’t strip away the darkness, it also could not turn away from the bright white light he saw in the distance. It was something, anything at all right now was good, and he strove to reach it. He knew he had to reach it, it was the goal, the necessary objective for the continuation of his life. He had to get there, he thought. He tried swimming through the pitch blackness, but it seemed to be just as far away as it always was. He swam as hard as he could, as if actively engaged in a fight for survival somehow put his mind at ease, only reaching nothing feeling nothing, holding nothing.

But what the heck was this light? Did that even matter? I didn’t really matter, it was a light and it was a point of reference in all the cold banality of this place, where ever it was. In the dense shadow this glowing light, like a fire burning out the darkness bit by little bit. But, it’s so gosh darned far, no matter how much work is done, it’s always like I’m swimming for an island a hundred meters out. Giving it my all, nothing getting done. No dice, comprende, good ole Albert’s stuck in the darkness but he’ll be damned if he’s caught staring into it. That light, it’s the way out, and.. How do I get to it? Damnit.. It’s not going to be like this forever? Damn, what the hell kinda joke is this? Wait wait, I’m good, there’s no reason to believe I’m going to be here forever.. Heck, there’s just too many strange things here. No ground, no solid objects, just intangibility.
Albert took a few minutes, from the chaos of his mind, to observe the light that was a distance off. He stopped trying to swim to it, no amount of effort seemed to work either way, and he hung there like a fish on a hook. Though, the light, despite it’s beautiful appearance, stirred a cauldron normally left well enough alone. Albert didn’t take his eyes off of it, and stare into the forbidden void, no.. his eyes were captivated.

Not because since the light was there, it was salvation, that wasn’t it at all. Mind you, he thought that at first, but now the light gave off a wholly different voice, as if someone changed the song on the CD player, oh heck, the whole CD. And the music that was playing now, Albert wanted no part of. Though, now that the house was choosing what songs were on deck, did he really have any choice? Albert shook his head, as his unease, surely became dread. Dreading what? Albert couldn’t answer that right then, nothing could really be pinned down, except that the light was both a vantage point for hope, and a cause for great distress. Albert heard the words, great distress, in his head and he wondered, how he had come up with that?

The word distress, connoting trouble, a malady of some kind, confusion, disruption. What word had made him think of distress? He thought this over, for a minute or so more, as he hung there in the darkness watching the light. Distress... he had heard this word used in the newspapers, it was one of the words that caught his attention to a front page storyline. The headline went, "Protestors cause distress in Mid-town.". Below it, a picture of a protestor, clad in the Canadian flag his mouth open in a scream, or was it a roar? Albert could never tell the difference. Below the picture, a caption read, "A protestor ignited violence in Mid Town causing untold amounts of damages and injuries to Law Enforcement and Civilians." At that moment, Albert remembered what had sparked his mind to conjure up the word distress. It was the way the headline used it to denote the chaos that was Mid town that afternoon. The word downplayed the carnage and ferocity of the violence that erupted that day. He should know, he was there.

Sure, civilians were hurt, how could they not be hurt? They were fighting the police after all, riot police with tear gas, clubs and, unlike the civilians and the protestors, they were wearing kevlar body armor with stars on the front denoting their affiliation with the security corporation, Axon Star. Named after their leader, Robert Axon. A multi-millionaire ex-military that went entrepreneur after he was dishonorably discharged. It was one of those scandals that was not really a scandal. Everyone, until that day, had put a lot of faith in Axon Corp, well.. Those who weren’t entirely aware, anyway. And there was always a few, kept to themselves, lived a pacified normal life, paid their taxes and remember to recycle.

Albert remembered it all then.. The smell of tear gas, the overwhelming stagnant smell of blood, the stinging in his eyes, and the wailing music of shouting, screaming and yelling. All of this, a humbling song of chaos, demonstration, resistance, retaliation and defiance. Retaliation? For what?... Albert damn well knew what. Hadn’t he just fallen asleep in that very depths of that reason? More like, passed out, but he didn’t care about that. The rejected, the forgotten and the lost. Taken refuge in old industrial tunnels beneath the richest in the city. This light, this malevolent glow in the midst of darkness, it exuded this ‘distress’. For some reason, Albert hated it, and he couldn’t shake the dice that this light let roll within his mind.

All of them kept rolling low when he wanted high, and he came up short with every kind of reasoning behind what he saw. What was it? Weren’t bad things usually dark? And weren’t they usually some kind of evil colour? Whatever evil colours were. It shook his mind then, a startling realization that he just thought of. Colours were connotation race.. What if each horror movie, they put the colour black and the Africans naturally suffer. It was so conniving, but no one would ever figure it out, because it was so subtle. And, to throw the ingenious watchers off, they throw in pale faces of vampires and zombie to make things seem confused. But, the idea made no sense to Albert either. He put it out of his mind not quite sure if someone would go to such lengths to injure another race. But, still, the colour white and it was so bright, shining in his face and he couldn’t tear himself away from it. The light blinded him and none of it felt very good at all. Was it getting brighter? He felt such evil, such a sickening malignance seeping into his skin like hamburger grease. It was nothing Albert wanted anything to do with. And then, in the depths of this place, Albert’s mind clicked. He asked himself, is all this real? Certainly, no reality he ever witnessed before and no physical laws were there, gravity, hot, cold, or even pain.. Just a sickening feeling and a dullness that was everywhere. It made him think of a dream, but he couldn’t shake how intense his disgust was, it ran through his mind and he kept thinking of many disgusting things as a result. So many ugly things, many people that were shot, eaten, hung and burned. So many of his own wounds came to mind then as well. His old bullet wounds, metal casings rumbling on the sidewalk, the jagged pieces of metal tearing the ligaments in his joints, the scraping away of soft flesh from the bone.

He then remembered, he had more wounds to add, lacerations, bites from dogs. Torn skin and trickling blood, soothed by a bandage, gauze, stitches and disinfectant. All of this he’d had before, all of this became a second skin, and his own skin felt violated, vulnerable and almost, disposable? He shook his head, not agreeing with that thought at all. He didn’t want to give up his own skin, it was too important and he didn’t feel like giving up quite yet, giving up didn’t feel like his style after all. He knew this and it was clear in his head, he wasn’t giving up. So, how was he going to get himself out of this? Because, it was clear he didn’t want to be here. He had enough of this place, whatever it was, where ever it was. The virulence stuck to his skin, but he couldn’t feel it, only the dullness that pervaded everything in this horrible place. He couldn’t feel anything at all and this worried him greatly. Why could he not feel anything? Had this terrible luminance taken away the feeling in his nerve endings? It seemed powerful enough, who knows what it was capable of after all. He just remembered then, you don’t feel anything because you dream, that would explain why he couldn’t feel or walk, or see anything other than the darkness and the brilliant light that tore into his soul.

He thought then, I’m dreaming? Then, well, it seemed simple then all he had to do was wake up. Right? Will himself to consciousness, complete consciousness, and this rapture that was undoing him would end in an abrupt halt. Just the way his whole life had been, starting and ending without any say in the way things ended. Oh sure, he tried, he fought really hard to make things roll the way he wanted, never seemed to happen though. He looked at this light, and tried to close his eyes, though he expected this dream would stop eventually when he woke up. Hell, he was surprised he even knew any of this, even understood about a dream, it wasn’t something he usually did. Now though, everything seemed quite real, except this dullness. Why? Why wouldn’t he just snap out of it? Hadn’t things usually worked that way? He would just be kicked and these things would be erased.

He shook his head again. No dice, not this time, he had to figure this puzzle out. It just seemed to be incomprehensible to figure out, what was there to figure out? He just wanted to leave. He then though, he had to figure out how to leave, and that was the puzzle. Though, he also entertained the thought that he had to figure out the puzzle of the light and the darkness. Though, the puzzle of escaping this prison in his head seemed all the more pertinent and important. He didn’t relish the thought of being around here any longer than he had to be, which in his mind was absolutely no time at all. So, he tried to wake. But how? Waking was done involuntarily as far as he knew. He had a quandary in his head, great another problem of unimaginable size. Albert didn’t need another one. But, he reasoned that it was good to have a comprehensive list. He just didn’t want anymore to struggle with as what currently faced him had enough difficulty. Heck, he was hanging in mid-air surrounded by darkness staring at a malevolent bright light that seeped into his skin. Albert realized then, he didn’t feel any pain, just a sickening disgust. He realized then.. Pain would jolt him awake. How to do that, is the real conundrum. He couldn’t move his physical self until well.. The dream ended, which doesn’t seem to be happening and, murphy’s law being what it is, most likely won’t for awhile. Someone had to shake him awake and out of this night. Someone outside? But, he was here and again, murphy’s law came into effect. Except what might happen, may never happen.

All of a sudden, the light spewed forth a terrible set of eyes. Burning with the fires of hell, it looked like. A set of eyes that put anyone in their place. There were no eye lids, or eye brows, or anything other than two red hot furnaces bearing deep into Albert’s soul. He could feel his own eyes going wide with fright and a sudden darkness clutching at his heart. He could feel someone shaking him, and the hands were small, calloused and smooth. Everything goes dark, and a cold hand brings him to reality, on his forehead the frost bit hard and he opened his eyes with a start. He leapt right out of his skin, it felt like. Only to find four people holding him down onto the couch. Gloria was right above him to the right, a large man held his shoulder’s down from behind and two others had his legs, kids it seemed like. A girl with short straight brown hair with blonde streaks and a pretty circular face. She seemed to be a teenager, 17? He didn’t know. To her right, a younger boy, 11? Seemed to be just sitting there observing this whole event.

No one spoke but Gloria. "Ok, your awake. Great. Um, we need to get you out of here." Gloria said with a disarming smile. Albert looked at the kid’s faces and they looked to be apprehensive, but for some reason neither of them spoke a word, only two sets of eyes looking at him. Filled with youth and fear. The boy showed considerably awe, and yet a resolute look of acceptance. Albert guessed something bad had happened, he couldn’t quite put a finger on it right then.

He looked at the big man and the big man looked at Gloria। "It’s ok, let him up. He’s safe now, let him up." And the big man nodded, his blonde hair and muscular torso seemed entirely threatening if it wasn’t for his vacant look on his face. Something about him wasn’t quite there. "Albert tried to move off the couch and, this time tried his good leg first. "Help me up, will ya? Do ya know where yer goin’?" Albert said somehow fearing it was all because of him. "Easy there," Gloria put both of her arms under his shoulders and she hoisted him up. "Yeah, we’re heading to Eden. It’s pretty far but, there’s a train we can take so that’ll cut down on the travel time. It’s not that far, thanks god. Alright, everyone. Robbie and Jessica, get your backpacks. John?" She looked at the boy and girl and they left. The big man just nodded and left with the boy and girl. Albert found he could stand on his good leg, while the other one had a dull kind of pain in it. He could walk on it, a little. Enough to shuffle if he needed to. "Thanks, Gloria. I can walk on it, besides I don’t have much choice, do I?" And Gloria smiled and said, "Heck no you don’t. Let’s get moving. The girl’s Jessica, the boy’s Robbie.

The big guy is John, he got you here." Gloria pointed toward a door and he said, "Pleased to meet you all," and he chuckled shuffling along after her. He shuffled out of the door, out of the broken down room with a broken ceiling, exposed pipes, a humming flouresent light that was right above the couch. Albert was glad he didn’t stay here very long.

He shuffled after them, as best he could and he was able to keep up with Gloria, but the other three were ahead. Gloria didn’t shout after them, but kept herself rather hushed. Albert took the hint and wondered just how fast he could move with his hurt ankle. He looked down at the bandages it was wrapped in and sighed. He knew it was going to be hurting eventually, probably sooner than he hopes. He looked at the dilapidated walls and never knew there were apartments down here. He kept walking wondering how Gloria kept up with her kids, and John. They seemed to be miles ahead, and in front of her every door was unlocked and open. Gloria kept moving quickly, but she stayed back to give Albert a reason to keep moving. He was lost otherwise, and he knew it. They heard a loud banging sound and Gloria called out then and she looked about frantically then. A few quiet moment’s passed and then a quick succession of loud heavy steps followed by more steps, quicker and quieter. John appeared then and Jessica beside him. "It’s ok, mom.. Gloria.. We’re ok. Um, we can’t get through to the west gate. Some big lock, I couldn’t pick it. John even hit it with a metal bat and it didn’t even dent." Jessica said and sighed. Robbie didn’t say anything but John spoke next. "Big door, all blue and metal like. Don’t think we can get through that way."

Gloria spoke then, "Oh right, should’ve known the connecting service tunnel was around here. We have to get through it, show me where this lock is and stay closer together alright?" Gloria said, in an almost pleading voice, and Jessica, Robbie and John all nodded. "Thanks." Albert came up behind Gloria and said, "Let me look at that lock, it’s my fault your having to move anyway." Gloria looked at Albert and shrugged, "You saw it, Albert. Do you think we’re sad about it?" And Albert only shook his head after a quiet moment. "Sorry, I didn’t... oh screw it, never mind. Let’s get to the door." He said when he realized how resolute they all were. Robbie said something then, "In the pit of the world, there’s nowhere worth staying." And everyone looked at him and Jessica smiled at him. Gloria only sighed, and John had an impassive look he had with everything. Albert considered the boy’s words. Yeah, the kid was right. There’s only what’s available, and damn whether you want a five star hotel.

Gloria walked up to Robbie and gave him a peck on the cheek patting his back. He smiled at her and then walked with her and Albert shuffled forward, a bit faster to keep up with them. They turned right and continued down the hallway and Albert’s bad leg hurt but he bit his lip and continued after them. He shuffled forward and used the wall to stead himself. He heard Gloria’s voice, "Keep up, slow poke. I know your in pain but we don’t have time." Albert bloody well knew that from the fearful looks the kid gave him and the way the kids went ahead and made sure the way was clear. He bit his pain away and said, "I am, keep your panties on woman." He said and continued and caught up to Gloria then who was walking at a brisk speed, speed walking? Why wasn’t she running? She looked back at him with a smile and chuckled and she said. "Yeah? How about you keep up or you’ll be the one washing all our underwear." Albert just grunted and moved past her and the hallway ended a big blue door. "If we get through this, heck... I’ll dry clean them." Gloria chuckled and came to the big blue door. Jessica said, "Dry clean what?" Albert said, "don’t wanna know, sweet heart. Where’s this lock?" Jessica just pointed to the big blue door and a large black block of metal that covered part of the wall. Albert nodded and approached the lock, John and Robbie were to the left of him watching. Neither of them said a word and Jessica only said, "I’ve never seen anything like that before." Albert had though, and he said. "How did you pick locks so far?" And Jessica said, "Hair clips and tweezers, credit cards.. My cards are all broken now." She handed him a long thin piece of metal, at the end she handed him, there was a rippled side and a long thin point, like a needle. He said, "Thanks." And Jessica just smiled. Albert didn’t really consider what it was she gave him, and was just happy they were being helpful. He approached the door and kneeled down to the door and inserted his tool into the opening of the black lock. Into a small key like hole. "I’ve seen this before, a few times. And I can get it open. How long do we have?" He asked. Gloria said, "A few minutes". Albert nodded and got to work. They heard a lot of clicks and Albert said. "I’ll get it." Everyone waited.

And, after many more clicks and Albert holding the metal pick in his hands, he twisted it and a loud crack was heard. Jessica did not look pleased and said, "Hey! That was my best lock pick, what the hell!" Albert just looked at her and said, "you’ll be happy to know it’s open, and I’m sorry. You guys said you didn’t have a longtime to wait for this door so.. I had to break it to open the door." And before she could reply, Albert opened the big blue door and shuffled through it. Jessica just sneered at him, and Robbie had quite the evil eye on him. John even said, "That was not a nice thing to do mister Grace." Albert only said, "I’m sorry ok, look.. With any luck, when the door shuts again it’ll be locked and it’ll take a force charge to open it again. Which will buy us some time." Gloria was just happy the door was open and Albert’s attempt at defense did make sense, but still.. He was a nobody that showed up at their doorstep, and the metal lockpick held a lot more meanings for her and Jessica than a man could ever understand. All four were beyond the door now, and the lock had a metal thing sticking out of it still. Gloria closed the door behind her and, as the door shut, the lock clicked and something was heard to crack again. Albert, looking back at the door, wondered if what he thought was true or not. Everyone walked past him not saying a word, though Gloria did smile at him. She was happy that Albert got them past that hurdle. Jessica, Robbie, and John were not completely impressed though. Every object they lost was something they could not get back and this was something meaningful, something special and rare. Especially in a subterranean world where nothing was nailed down.
Gloria led them through the hallways this time trying to keep them together. The offices in this area were clean, pristine looking even... but a chill ran up Albert’s spine at the darkness that pervaded the whole area. A bump was heard and Jessica’s voice said, "Ow, that hurt." Gloria, feeling her way through the hallway, turned and said "Are you ok, Jess?" And Jess said, "Stubbed my toe. I can’t see anything in here, you sure this is such a good idea? I don’t like being in here at all." John said, "Yeah, scary place, alright. It’s cold but it isn’t cold, it doesn’t make any sense." Albert had to agree with this trend, but he said something much different. "If this is the way to New Eden, they must have built over the original pathways. Gloria, you must’ve been around this area before.. But you don’t remember any of this?" Gloria replied, "this is all new to me.. Even that door wasn’t supposed to be there at all, something’s definitely changed around here. But, this is definitely the right way, we just have to get through this maze. And Albert, I will not have you breaking our equipment anymore. We needed that thing, and getting another is difficult. But there’s nothing to be done about it now." Gloria said, as matter of factly as she could, though there was obvious bitterness in her voice. Albert only sighed and shook his head, he did everything they told him to do and he had to break it to open the door and, likely if anyone was following them they’d be held back by the door giving time for Gloria, John and her kids to escape. He figured it was a noble sacrifice. He was ahead of them when Gloria said this and shuffling along a wall with a large white stripped glass window he turned his head and said, "I’m sorry," and he didn’t say anything more.

No one else said a word after that, they just kept moving following Albert’s lead. Robbie pipped up and said, "Isn’t there a light switch?" John agreed, "Yeah, can’t see anything. It’d be quicker if we could see where we’re going." Gloria nodded but kept silent trying to listen. Albert looked around where he was but couldn’t see a light switch anywhere. "If you see one, turn it on." he said and continued moving down the long hallway. Gloria then said, "Stop, we gotta go this way. Left, I’m absolutely sure. The area may have been rebuilt, but this pathway couldn’t have changed that much." Gloria heard Albert making his way back, she was surprised that she didn’t hear more complaints from him about his foot. He was remarkably calm during all this, as if being on the run while he was injured was a normal thing. The other three were standing beside Gloria a minute later, and then they saw Albert limping toward them and he said, "Where’re we goin’?" Gloria pointed to her left and straight toward utter darkness. Albert nightmare he had and thought this was ironic. Here he was, descending into the depths of hell. "Alright, then, how long ago did ya last take this route?" Albert asked turning his head toward Gloria’s distant eyes. "It was a few months ago. Looks like they’ve been real busy since then. Maybe there’s a weak area if they did this hastily. We’ll have to search around if you can’t open the next door, there’s probably another one down there." Gloria said with some doubt. Somehow, she didn’t quite believe there was another door. But Jessica said, "It makes sense though, they have to keep this area cordoned off right? I mean, there might be good stuff in here." Jessica looked around, for the first time, with an opportunistic glint in her eye. Gloria withheld a sigh and everyone else, including Albert looked around for anything of value.

Though, in the darkness, they could see very little and searching the whole area would take awhile. None of them really wanted to be here in the first place, so it wasn’t long before they went down the darkened hallway and crept along the walls. It seemed endless, the cold stone and the tile hospital like flooring. Everyone just pushed forward and it was John that was cracking. "I don’t like the dark, scary things in the dark. I can’t believe we can’t find a light switch." He said in a frightened voice. Jessica said, right beside him in a calming voice, "Hey, I’m right here. No one’s going to get you while I’m around, trust me." She put an arm around his waist and rubbed his back a bit. "Thank you Jessie. Yer real nice. You sure they ain’t goin’ to get me?" And she replied, "nope, not at all, you got me here to protect you." Jessica smiled as they walked side by side together. Albert was behind everyone, looking forward but he couldn’t see much beyond his hand. Why did everything have to be so damn dark?

Robbie said, "I’m here too, John. Don’t be afraid of the dark." He said, in a soothing voice, almost like he was something stronger than steel right then. Albert couldn’t shake it from his head though, he was just a kid. Albert kept feeling he way down the hallway listening more than using his eyes. But the wall, the cold lifeless air of the place kept on, the darkness seeped into their skin, and the inevitable piercing dark clouded the edge of their sanity until everything became grey. The dark, it hid things too, Albert knew all too well. And he was listening, and not hearing a thing beside the shuffling and walking of five trespassers. No buzzing, no clicks, beeps or hisses. Eerily quiet is what best described it. Enough to make any noise instantly noticeable amongst everyone. They were afraid to fart.

After awhile, fifteen minutes or so, Gloria said. "I found a door. It’s open." She said as she turned the knob and went in. She flicked on a light switch and everyone shielded their eyes from the bright white that flooded the hallway. Albert felt a momentary urge to back away from it, as if repulsed by the very idea of light. But, after a moment, a cold sweat, he pressed on believing there wasn’t a terrible realization beyond this door, that somehow, salvation was at the other end. He tried to shut away the thoughts that pounded his mind. Everyone else went in, and he had just realized they had and swallowed hard. "Hey, Albert. Coming in or what?" Gloria’s voice rang out and he shuffled in. "I gotta take a look at your bandage and make sure there’s no serious infection." Albert only said, "It hurts to use it, but it feels a lot better than it did. I don’t think it’s infected." He limped more now though, his knee was bent enough not to let his foot hit the floor at all. Jessica pulled up a chair and Albert sat in it. Albert rolled up his pant leg and everyone grimaced. He looked down and grimaced himself. Damn, it was worse than he thought. A lot of yellow and blisters along the bottom of his foot. He has patches of blue and purple as well that made it all the more serious looking. He undid the bandage and everyone gasped. John said then, "Smells terrible, Albert. I’m sorry, but it really does" Albert replied, "Looks even worse. Damnit, I knew them dogs were nasty, but this!?" Albert took a deep breath and Gloria said, "Maybe there’s a first aid kit around—" then she stopped and her face went white. She couldn’t speak, but she was looking Albert’s way and Jessica was covering Robbie’s eyes. John wasn’t looking that way at all, just outside of the room entirely. The smell was bad enough, like someone farted a few times. The beans must have started working on someone, and it wasn’t him, he has not eaten in awhile.

Albert held his foot and used both hands to squeeze the pus ridden blisters on his foot. He growled as the pain shot through his legs, but he gritted his teeth and yelled, "I need towels, please stop with your vampire impersonations and get me some towels!" Nobody seemed to move as the pus and darkened blood oozed out of Albert’s foot. He growled louder and his bulging eyes staring at his foot. Everyone seemed stricken, as if injured without ever being hurt, and unable to take their eyes away and their stomachs were unable to finish turning over. Albert pushed harder and more white pus fell out of the open infected blisters. There were a few on the ball of his foot and one on his heel. Though, they were all large, one had a large red ring around it. Albert had all of his fingers centered around this spot pushing out the infection. A moment later, his mind clicked and he looked at Gloria’s despairing face. "I asked you for towels." He said in a strangely calm and even voice. She nodded slowly and turned to the cupboards and started looking for towels. Jessica’s stomach turned completely and she said, "I think I’m gonna be sick." She keeled over and found a waste basket burying her face inside of it. Robbie’s eyes finally saw the truth and he turned his face away immediately. "Ewww, grossed out." Gloria was happy to hear his voice and she said, "Don’t look, Robbie. Don’t you dare look." He looked at her and said, "No way, that’s gross. No way I’m looking at that. Hey, Jessie. Are you ok?" As everyone heard the sound of her bringing up breakfast. Albert said, "Hey, you alright over there?" Jessica managed a groan and nodded her head. "Yeah, mr. Tough guy.. Girl’s just fine." She hurled again after this. Albert smiled a bit and then yelped as he pressed down on the wound directly to get more of the pus out.

Gloria managed to swallow and take a deep breath. The smell of blood was thick in the room now, but everyone was either getting used to it, ignoring it or drinking it in entirely. Whichever way it went, Gloria somehow got her hands on some paper towel rolls. She turned and seeing Albert’s foot again just about keeled over herself. She summoned up something within her though, a real sense of urgency to show strength, to stay strong and solid in the face of such ugliness. She slowly walked over and kept her face on Albert’s as she went to hand him the paper towels. His hand clutched the dry rough surface and he smiled at her. "Thanks, Gloria." He said in the same tone of voice, almost as if he was being polite for her sake, as if he was trying his best to be a gentlemen.

He said after he wiped away the blood and pus from his injured foot. "Listen, I really don’t know if I can keep up with you four. And you’ve done enough already. And besides, I’ve got a cute girl waiting at Star Bucks for me. Yer on your own from now on, and before ya’ll start crying your better off without the injured limper slowing you all down. Seems to me Gloria knows the way and I’ll manage. You all better get John and get outa here." Gloria seemed sad then, as if obligation of seeing everyone through was impossible now, and she had the facts right in front of her, like news footage that sears. Oozing out of the infected wound in his foot dripping with regularity creating a moist repugnant pool of blood and bacteria cell cultures multiplying rapidly.
Gloria met Albert’s eyes and her look of forlornness died. His eyes were full of conviction then, a sense of seriousness pervaded the air around the room. Jessica looked at Gloria for a minute, Robbie just looked around and then down to the floor.

Albert just kept his eyes on Gloria. "Alright, and your right Albert. We’re better without you, no offence. Thanks for getting us past the lock, but I remember now where we have to go. The offices threw me but I got it alright now. Listen Albert, if it’s still there, there’s a ladder to the surface further down the hall to the left. It could be walled over, who knows. I’m fairly certain it is there though, and you can get out. I won’t bear the ache of knowing your in trouble, got it?" Albert nodded and read in her serious voice that there was no messing around with the directions, even if she was vague about how certain she was. He would check into it after he dealt with his foot a little better. It was clear by then, that he needed real antibiotics to get rid of this infection, but he was doing the best he could pushing it out of his body for now. It would grow back, but it would be a lot less painful for a little while, and he hated just being unable to do anything about it. His mind had to focus on it if only to distract from the stress of the overall situation. He had a lot to accomplish and, he had been very lucky so far. He looked at these three and said, "You take care of Gloria now. If anything happens to her, I swear I’ll..." he left it hanging and smiled at them. "We will, don’t worry about her, she’s in good hands." Jessica said. It wasn’t quite assuring, but it was an authorative tone of voice. Albert loved to hear such confidence these days. "Good well, you better get John back in here and head off. I’m pretty sure someone left listening devices in the offices." Albert said. Everyone nodded, even if they agreed or not, or even cared.

Robbie went to the door and said, "Hey John. We have to get out of here." John walked back into the room. Gloria gave Albert a hug. Jessica just said bye, and Robbie said nothing. They left with John a moment later into the darkness. Albert smiled, and after everyone had left the room, he said, "Off to Star Bucks."

She was sitting alone, in a coffee shop on Burrard somewhere. There were a lot of other patron’s there, and busy servers but she was seated at a table all by her lonesome pondering the days events. She had ran, like she never ran before, knocked over so many things, pushed by so many people, all of it seemed a blur. And it was all to get away from two hungry canines. She had hid in a utility closet and someone else was put on the slab, ready for dinner. She wondered who the poor sob was and that someone else took the fall for her meant a lot, a lot of anguish that was. An innocent man was carted off? What had he done? All of this weighed on her mind and she drank her coffee finding a sickly sweet massage down her throat.

"Hey you, cowgirl. Your outa the blue." Came a voice from beside her, and she chastized herself for being so unobservant. The voice was old and cranky sounding, but all at once a comfort came over her. "And into the black." She said back without looking to see who it was. She bloody well knew who it was, because no one else called her cowgirl. She smiled and thought, at least he’s alive even if... her thought was cut off by another line, "my my, hey hey... rock and roll is here to stay." She smiled a lot then and said nothing at all. Seemed to be perfectly content then, even a bit shaken by the tragedy of it all.

Landings

2008-01-15T14:39:00.000-08:00

"As you are all happy to know, we are making our final descent. Please return to your seat and put it back to the full and upright position. Do not unbuckle your seatbelt, unless directed by a flight attendant, until we come to a complete stop at the terminal gate. I know we had a bumpy ride, and we apologize for any discomfort that it may have caused." The voice sounded relieved, though very confident and assuring. Or was it, re-assuring? Sophia had that caught in her mind as she looked at the middle aged man. His head was on the headrest with his eyes closed, as if the situation had brought about some deep and disturbing revelation. Something forbidden to most mortal minds, brought about by a neardeath experience like the one everyone on flight 652 experienced that day. The sheer amount of adrenaline through the blood stream was staggering to the mind. Sophia saw him taking several deep breathes and with a deep sigh, he turned his head to her opening his eyes and said, "I forgot to get her dry cleaning... my wife's going to hang me out to dry instead of her Gucci." Sophia smiled at him and asked, "is it safe for you to enter the country?" and this brought a laugh out of him, "ooooh, no... not at all. I'm exiled to the airport terminal lounge area if we get to it." He said with a look of despair. Sophia could tell it was a joke, but something about it spoke of a reality buried deep beyond the surface. "The minute she sees you... the dry cleaning will be the last thing on her mind. Take it from me." Sophia said.

"Alright, I'll hold you to that. I have it on good authority then that she'll be too relieved to remember it?" He asked her with a wry smile. "Yes, yes you do. From one woman to another. Dry cleaning can wait." Sophia said. The middle aged man was comforted with that and knew, deep down, that his wife wouldn't be critical of this slight if she knew the kind of ride they were having 30,000 feet above the earth. Hell, he was happy that his wife would see him, that her face would brighten in that unmistakable flush of redness. His whole life meant something at that moment, though it was fleeting, the moment lasted for years afterwards.

Sophia liked how he laid his head back on the headrest looking content. "What's she like?" she asked him. "Who" he asked, as if coming out of a trance. "Your wife, what's she like? if you don't mind me asking" Sophia asked once more aware of his sudden out of body experience. "Oh, she's very refined, and a tough woman. She puts up with me, after all, she has to be tough. We've been married fourty years. Every one of them has been reliable. That's the real crux of it right there, she's there." Sophia smiled and said, "Lucky to have you, she sounds wonderful, a soldier for a world made for soldiers." Sophia said. He nodded at that and said, "Yes, your right there. This world certainly isn't for simple civilians these days. And she's definitely fit for this world, in everyway, even taught me how to toughen up too. I think, deep down, there's nothing in this world that could cause a breakdown in that woman. Blows my mind." He said with a look of respect, or was reverance? Sophia couldn't tell.

"When we touch down and get to the terminal, God allowing, I'd like to meet her. Perhaps we could all go get a coffee? If you don't mind, that is. I could certainly go for one right now." Sophia said wondering if he'll take this offer out of the blue. He thought about it for a minute and then said, "Alright, sure. Just remember, do not mention dry cleaning, Gucci, or anything like that." He said with a smile. Sophia nodded and said, "Scouts honour."

The reality stands as an incomprehensible truth, something people would find laughable, even insane. And, really, who can blame them? Who would believe what really caused the computer malfunction to intermittenly shut off engine two? None of the passengers, not even the crew, would look into it anymore than a random computer glitch causing a temporary shutdown that righted itself just in time. By far, more people would be happier that they survived and made it into the airport awaiting a connecting flight, or perhaps consider that this trip was too dangerous already and give it up while they still had their heads.

The real truth is though, that they passed over an anomoly, of sorts. Like most anomalies, this was random, an occurance that was unforseen, however miraculously brief. But, unlike most anomalies, this one was not a cause, in and of itself, it was merely a symptom. Like every symptom it requires a lot of them to determine a cause and then decide on the solution. But, this symptom, nearly cost the lives of 300 passengers and crew aboard a 747 Jet. It's hard for anyone to realize that more of these are necessary to deduce the nature of the problem and work for a solution.

So what is it a symptom of? Another problem that's got more than a few inconsolable twists. If a piece of hardware is placed into a motherboard that requires more voltage than the motherboard is engineered to handle, it's likely the whole motherboard will fry with bloated and leaking capacitors. This situation is similar, though not nearly as drastic, as to what happened here. The air over a specific valley, a patch of land that housed nothing more than ever greens and lots of animals that called it home, until a day or so ago that is, when Malachi arrived on earth. The environment changed, fundamentally to deal with a sudden surge of backlash through the land, across the skies, more terrifying than the humbling wrath of thunder.

These anomalies are inevitable, of course, because some things aren't meant to be on planets, meant to be added to the pond where the smallest of fish called it home. Where everyone is completely aware, of how bright the shining star has gotten, except it's right beside them instead of high in the sky, detached and apart. It's times like this, that despite what everyone might want, or wish, being ignorant and unaware may have it's benefits. Knowledge only creates curiosity after all, for the acquisition for more knowledge. In many ways, knowledge is an addiction, or a source of possible addictions. If one is a fool, as most people are whether they like it or not, it's likely that a bad twist of fate will beset him with anomalies in his life. A lot less than would be if they actively searched for it. Luckily, passengers aboard the 747 flight survived this encounter. One of many, many more.

The only thing that will appear on the flight crew's report about this near fatal accident, was that the computer encountered a unique glitch that caused one engine to come off line and an unknown force threw the plane from it's course. Luckily, the glitch righted itself after several minutes, with an altitude loss of 900 feet. Maybe an inspection will occur if the public roars loud enough. There's enough power in public opinion these days for it to carry weight of some sort.

Zero

2008-01-11T12:36:00.000-08:00

As Sophia's rejuvination took place in the coach section of a 747 jetplane, another descent into darkness was taking place in a jungle much farther south. Girl-Zero, Kylie’s journey

Clang, clang. Those sounds against the stained steel were barely heard over the heavy barrage of water droplets hitting inward grooves, carved into the rooftop like tunnels on the underside of a tennis shoe. These rivets lead to several pipes that brought the water inside the structure for processing, and a trickling sound was added to the intense ambience during the monsoon season, the quietest sound in amongst the dripping of drops, drooping leaves with splattering spittle from the sky, puddles unprotected against the natural onslaught; deliverance from peace, stillness and evaporation.

Four feet tall, feminine girlish figure, with a light to medium grey exterior, with pulsating shock absorbers hidden beneath a smooth metal alloy named Eranium. Clang, clang, limbs covered with grey storm cloud coloured finish having it resemble the oncoming thunder raging behind her eyes. Clang, clang, a light blue flickering, as the tears from God, strike let pellets against the bullet-proof glass with a clinking sound resembling a stained glass window. Clang, clang, "a petite collection of curves covers this sleek, economically efficient exterior neo-modern design covered by a beautifully textured medium grey paint finish!" Clang, clang, "the latest in bio-mechanical processors, yielding 25,000mhz. While remaining perfectly cool, the processor unit composed of the latest in bio technology perfectly synchronizes on mission data, adaptability, tactical reasoning with protocols built through our patented Artificial Intelligence, without the use of algorithms. The first artificial brain!" Clang, clang, the pitter patter of raindrops, and no imprints of her foot steps left behind.

And, before any of the impressed speechless military 'customers' composed of generals, their advisors, prime ministers and their chief of staff, corporate presidents and their vice-presidents, could ask the large white Zero on her back remains a mystery she did a double flip into the air and then bowed afterwards with a giggle for which she received quite the applause after group grasped their breath. Though, everyone was calling her Zero, that the end of the day. Many wondered what their version would be numbered as, in order to keep track of how many orders might be given that day, though none would dare write the number down, too obvious.

Everyone just assumed it was a designation, for property, a reference number, an indexing method for material parts, a cataloguing barcode, and deep inside a voice, a murmuring whisper (whimper), barely audible inside the mind, a sound file erased as erratic erroneous garbage caused by a passing breeze, the faint resembling syllables pronounced... 'a name?' Girl-Zero, became her nickname after that day, as was intended. They lacked the creativity to come up with a name themselves, so someone had the bright idea of putting a large 0 on her back and seeing what came of it. She was a prototype model after all, meant to display the capabilities of Memnes Tech International for their big debut into the military and corporate security weapons division. Many did not expect her to remain public beyond the press conferences, and certainly not operational. Many of the consultants, advisors and vice presidents, had their stooges try to calculate the operating costs alone and many wild and crazy numbers were given for fear of coming up with nothing at all. Heaven forbid someone forgot their scientific calculator.

Most of the vice presidents, scoffed at the numbers giving only a very mild terse glance at the unfortunate soul silly enough to try the social experiment. Those that did not, knew it was beyond calculation to keep all of her parts running smoothly, let alone the insurance if these fools actually applied this extreme piece of hardware after field testing was complete. The thought of being the sponsor, or the contributor of field tests meant you had leverage to watch the testing in progress, or at least, have the best Intel on the results, and perhaps information on schematics including upgrades, modifications and the ability to introduce new technologies once they were published.

Girl-Zero, was proving to herself, that beyond the biomechanical circuitry hardwired with veins, synthetic conductive brain tissue, that the human soul still resided in the depths of her. And, for the life of her, she could not understand why that was so. Her optical scanner's detected no artillery on the rooftop, nor any cameras, or motion detectors. It was, as if they did not expect a halo insertion from the surrounding canapé, from a drop point three miles away. A single intruder, against a whole complex, seemed inconceivable even if he or she found a way inside.

All of the soldiers were equipped with large automatic rifles that also acted as Grenade launchers with incendiary napalm rounds. Besides whenever someone is armed with Napalm, and it's publicly announced in the top military science journals, executives get a memo advising against sending armed soldiers to extract the latest new thing. And, as well they should, less grieving families crying over a closed casket funeral. And, that fit into everyone's budget just perfectly.

When the initial showing of this device was hosted by a corporate conference in Brussels, rumours began circulating about a new wave of artificial intelligence was engineered by the leading scientist Dr. Ronald Scremling. All allegations of a prototype brain being developed as part of a secret joint venture between leading robotics’ experts Adapts, and Memnes Incorporated who was known for their bio-engineering division and international relief efforts across the world in diseased stricken parts of the world. Their relief efforts catch headlines every year, as they find new cures for horrible diseases. It is little wonder they receive big corporate sponsorship, and are the world leaders in the battle against HIV-Aids, and all types of diabetes. Still, everyone could put their finger on the strange causal relationship there, but none would say it. Due to a morbid fear that seemed incomprehensible, and a convenient truth that money was waiting to be made.

And, as well, this mission was always theorized in the wild imaginations of writers, publicists making the next big publicity stunt. No one knew that the prototype displayed to the industrial leaders was already field tested, and had been involved with several real military insertions throughout the United States, Canada and Brazil. And, it had been instrumental with viral hotspots, nuclear meltdowns and chemical accidents. No one at Memnes, or Adapts doubted Girl-Zero's abilities, and the remarkable achievement in both scientific fields, noteworthy of mention in the annals of robotics, artificial intelligence, and bio-engineering.

Girl-Zero, was not totally alone, as a calm female voice chattered in her ears. "Zero, it seems the Intel we received from the Brazilian authorities was correct. This facility relies on the inaccessible terrain to make the rooftop inaccessible to mobile units. If these schematics are right, the entry points should appear as exhaust vents, 25 feet from your current position straight ahead. This building has eleven floors, some built right into the solid limestone underneath. We located the target on the first floor of the basement levels. Getting there is the first priority. The materials seem to be composed of light building materials, likely, drywall, wood and paints. Though, there is no intel as to what the materials will be in the secured levels.“ Girl-Zero noted the last few words and replied, “understood, In the event of radio silence, I will be extremely careful.“ And Girl-Zero's eyes looked ahead of her, twenty five feet, and through the relentless sobbing from the clouds, Girl-Zero caught sight of exhaust fumes leaving an open air vent.

"Confirmed, entry point. 20 feet." Girl-Zero stopped there knowing the rest was erroneous to her operator. A quick scan revealed nothing set in place to reveal her location, cause an EMP pulse, or report a malfunction. She reached the vent, tore it out, climbed inside and replaced the vent. It was dark inside the vent, and Girl-Zero had to run, the instant she entered the vent her sensors detected a sound of whooshing air. No Intel how long the process would restart if she missed this cycle of recycled air. A quick scan of the interior detected a four and a half foot tall crawl space, well crawl space for any person that is. She ran as soon as her feet hit the steel, except she ran like a dog. All four legs for increased mobility, her hands resembled her feet then with subtle shifts in the positions of fingers and the wrist. Imbedded in her programming, was the ability to adapt to surfaces, given a time-frame and structural apparatus, she could be a monkey.

Girl-Zero was accessing her stored schematics file while she ran, full tilt, down the vent oblivious to the noise she might be making and what triggers might be set off by that noise. She was five feet from the vent before she went into a dive, legs first, towards the open vent shaft when she heard her operator say. "You are going into one of the main air exhaust shafts recycling the air from the furnaces and the main labs two floors below you." A subtle, change of pitch, from the usual matter of fact voice, caught Girl-Zero's attention. The slight suddenness of the intake of air denoted an attempt to withhold a gasp, as a toxicity report flashed in Girl-Zero's left eye. Searin gas, though it did not melt through her metallic exterior, but it would kill anyone foolish enough to enter, or anyone caught anywhere near the facility. "I now know why they did not protect against a halo insertion, the soldiers would be dead before they hit the roof." The normally, cherry young woman's voice, sounded aghast then, only for a moment, besides... a mission was at hand.

Girl-Zero, entered the second air vent with a crash, and the scattering of metal, as it hit another steel floor below it. A loud clank, with several scattering bits of screws, bearings, and ripped pieces of steel tumbling, sliding and colliding with a hard metal surface. The sounds were bouncing, as much as the metal was, and it was then that the cherry voice came in with a chide. "You were designed to be quiet, as well as, quick ya know." The voice almost scoffed, was it playful? or was it intended to sound playful. Girl-Zero didn't compute the inferences of the sudden rise in pitch and fall in the despair she heard previously. "The ventilation shaft here is designed to be loud, likely to set off sensors built a few feet below of loud vibrations. I've likely blown the whole mission by now, yay me." Girl-Zero, despite her programming, had an indestructible sense of humour. The cheery chuckled but otherwise fell silent.

This ventilation shaft ran for quite awhile, but it had many exits leading down left and right, on a slope. Despite her state of the art scanners, the distance was too far to calculate. "I hit a main shaft, the target is, 250 feet, North West. Schematics show these vents lead too crew quarters, labs, and bathrooms. That explains the effluence I detected, and the residual whooshes of fans. Mmm, Chilli Mac." The female voice just laughed. Girl-Zero could almost hear her head shaking from side to side. And then, popped a serious question. "Did you get anymore information on the package I am collecting?" And, the voice sounded normal enough, but the hesitance on the other end noted quite a lot of things. "Yes, um... I found it that it's schematics and detailed blueprints, but anything further than that is classified." The voice sounded nervous, if only slightly. "Classified, just like me." Girl-Zero found an uneasy comfort in the similarity there, but she had cards to play. "Remember who else can get it for you. No one." And, hey, it was true. A mobile unit of commando's would have already been killed, before they even entered the building. Schematics showed dart guns that fired silently from the trees unto the wary, and unwary. What the darts were filled with, made a lot of people sick to their stomach just to think about. Not to mention, the cloud of Searin gas that was released earlier, along with other unnamed toxins not usually found in exhaust of any sort. The land surrounding this facility, thusly, is not inhabited.

Sometimes, the neighbouring villages disappear due to shifts in the wind patterns. Due to this, the sparsely populated region is in constant flux, and generally avoided. But, despite the evidence towards this fact, Girl-Zero's confidence is cut short by a matter of fact feminine voice. "Yes, that's true. But, while that's true, you've never asked before.. so." Girl-Zero, did not quite understand why she asked, perhaps curiosity. But, she realized, that she did this work because she was built to, because there was no one else to do it. And those reasons satisfied her. On any other day maybe. The one reason that always satisfied her though, and the one that burned deep inside, was that she had to.

There was little say in the matter, when her boss could pull the plug, and she would be without a home, regular upgrades, or power. She often speculated, at any given time, they could shut her down. But, she never confirmed it, she only logically came to that conclusion and did not feel as though the data was sufficient enough, to give it a whirl. She was playing with a large assumption and it did affect a lot of pricey hardware, hardware she could bargain with eventually. Except, bargaining with herself, when they had the keys to her skull, did not make for a logical deduction. And, furthermore, she hated the implications of bargaining her own body to win freedom with people as ruthless as this.

She came upon a vent shaft that sounded quieter than the others. And, she got up on her two legs, her hands returning to look like normal hands again. Her wrist adjusts itself back to it's normal position. Her feet and legs shifted slightly to accommodate quiet movement and she crouched as not to rub against the walls, or the ceiling. The building schematic showed this to be a utility room, i.e. more likely to be unoccupied upon entry, but one can never be too sure with humans. Sometimes, they are in these rooms for reasons no one would clearly understand. Upon reaching the end of the shaft, she detected no noises, voices, mutterings or other odd scratching noises she sometimes encountered. Scratching she hoped was mice trying to pry open a hole in the wall paper.

She carefully opened the vent and slide through the two foot long opening onto the floor with a soft clank. She saw various chemicals, peroxide, hydrogen cyanide, hydrogen sulphate, nitrogen and many others. All with large red labels, and the words, "Do not handle". "Aww, it's my favourite part, the toy room and I can't play with any of it!" Girl-Zero's voice actually sounded believably disappointed. "Oh now, if you do that. This entire section will be dead in less than 30 minutes." The young woman chuckled at the end, with a light content sigh. "Yeah, if any of them tip one over... by mistake.. ya know.." Girl-Zero said that as she looked around and found Arsenic, Hydrogen Bicarbonate, and Potassium. All of these were in big white jugs cluttered with many other white jugs held by metal shelves, that looked quite heavy. Another thought did concern her, if she combined the wrong chemicals and they exploded, she could be damaged dramatically, however slim a chance that was. "Setting detox point. 1AAB76 Alpha." Girl-Zero said, and put that into a directory all it's own. The voice on the other end said, "Confirmed here."

It was critical for her survival that she use everything in her disposal, to do anything she needed to do. Chemicals, were a good source of stimulants for lots of activities and finding a supply like this meant she could always come back and mix the right ones together. The young woman's voice came on again, "Set three additional detox points, within your vicinity. Sending now.... sent." Girl-Zero saw her schematic icon blink, and she activated it to display three more detox points, with unknown contents, two halls over. She closed that file, for now. Never know what comes in handy during a mission.

"Thanks. Schematics show this is a biological research division, lots of white coats, light armed regiment, medium surveillance. Locked doors with key cards and pin codes, cameras, a detox scan at the main exits, what did they do, trap the Easter bunny?" Girl-Zero's voice sounded light hearted, amused even. "Yes, they trapped the Easter bunny, now let's hope it never gets out, shall we?" The young woman's voice sounded sure of herself. "If you say so." Girl-Zero replied back.

She opened the door slightly, and peaked out, she saw no one moving in the hallways, but knew there could be a camera catching her every move. There was no window to this door and the bottle of the door was sealed to the floor. She found opening it released the air from inside, as if it was designed to pressurize this room in case of a spill. She would have to rig the door if she needed to clean this floor. She hoped, she wouldn't have to. The hallway seemed empty, but a sensor picked up that a camera was watching the hallway, as it turned left Girl-Zero crept out of the doorway careful to keep out of sight right below the camera. As soon as the door sealed with a whooshing sound, Girl-Zero went down the small corridor, as soon as the camera was turning to look right. Running six steps, an imperceptible twitch in her lower extremities causes her to dart left on a dime. The camera, finishing it’s rotation did not catch the petite metallic form causing a small shadow on the grey tiled floor. The kind of shadow, that only lightly tints the surfaces it is cast upon, like the smallest amount of mildew on the shower curtain, like the blending of dark to light, when the sun is temporarily hidden behind a cloud.

Girl-Zero did not waste anytime moving, as she heard footsteps coming towards her. The heel-toe clopping sound of high heels, and a rustle of trousers against each other, along with pieces of paper folding against each other. A busied mind reading over the words, diagrams and results of a hard days battle against preconceived ideas. Silent, and yet loud between the ears, Girl-Zero knew the type. Quickly, her hands and feet stuck against the wall and held on while air rushed out of the zone between the drywall and the metal. The sound, loud enough to be heard, but not understood right away echoed through the halls, and might have caught attention of the oncoming woman, if she was not buried in her papers, or more likely trying to surface beneath the pile of them.

Still, an odd noise for this area of the compound. It made the petite woman raise her oval sculpted face for a moment and narrow her eyes just slightly, “what made that sound?” and then she heard several more that grew louder, as she approached. Something was moving, she knew that much, but she couldn’t figure out what it was. Having never recognized the sound of suction against a dry wall surface the popping did not immediately click within her head, beneath the well-groomed brunette dyed hair. She went back to her papers, after a glance of what was ahead of her, nothing… so she continued on her way. Her mind had a lingering thought that knowing was not important to the job at hand, and so she went back to her work trying to make sense of the latest results splattered on the pages in front of her. “It doesn’t make sense” Girl-Zero distinctly heard, a slight eastern accent from Jordan, she guessed.

Girl-Zero was flat against the ceiling, not making a sound, not moving an inch in any direction. Not pressing against the ceiling while the researcher was right beneath her. Simply staying still enough to avoid any random noises that inevitably occur with movement of almost any kind. Noises happen, and Girl-Zero knew, to be silent there had to be a reduction of movements. Enough reduction meant you were invisible, or invisible enough. The wall had slight, small indentations of hands and feet going upwards towards the ceiling, noticeable if you were searching for it, or perhaps by chance, it would be found and pondered over. Girl-Zero did not care because she was not seen, and as the clopping heel-toe sound of expensive high-heels turned the corner, Girl-Zero dropped from the ceiling and she continued traversing the hallway. Seeing lots of depressingly sterile grey drywall paint transforming creative potential into a very professionally manufactured prison. She wondered at the lives these people must lead, and if it was better than her own. Certainly, they had free time, time to socialize, as humans were known to do frequently, otherwise they were cut off and became destitute creatures of loneliness, wanting human contact and yet terribly afraid of the consequences of relationships of any kind.

Girl-Zero did not sense the trappings of an underlying fear of relationships, people or friends in that woman. The seriousness of her step, the power behind each collision of her heel against the tile flooring, the way none of the walls burdened her stature, the focus and the delicate hands handling the papers told Girl-Zero all she needed to know. People lived well here, better than she, at least. That made her happy, in the depths of science, research, cold hearts and colder minds, there was a measure of humanity within these walls. Despite how much the dank starkness tried to evict it from those they held within them.

Girl-Zero did not spy any further camera’s but she did expect another at the end of the hallway she was currently in, it made perfect sense to keep tabs on your prisoners after all. Girl-Zero did not think of these people as anything else, despite how pampered they might be. Her sensors did not pick up any coming up head. Just a long winding hallway, turning left, and right, sometimes sharp corners that would catch anyone else off guard causing them to stumble. It was in one of these hallways, she came upon the tail end of a conversation where a measured, eloquent sounding voice of about 35 came through loud and clear “Or rather than your overly simplified explanation, Tom. It makes more sense to say ‘We ratified the reduction protocols by 50% due to the ingenuity of the QA department.’ right?” And another, younger sounding voice, replied. “Yes, alright. I will present to Edwards when I see him. Any idea where he is?” Sounding much more chipper, alive even, than the dead sounding monotone drone that was underlying the hum of the light fixtures.

“Don’t worry about it, you only told Bill and John. And they have their own country where they dream up things to tell oversight, and can’t come up with a reason why oversight does nothing with their claims. Just keep a lid on experiments with the adapters for the T1. We can’t replace that if one of the conductor’s blew.” Said with a reassuring tone that seemed to elicit a relieved sigh from the younger gentleman. “Alright, absolutely none from here on in. I didn’t know what I was thinking that another circuit could increase efficiency. You know the polarization switches and--” the excited voice stops suddenly and hurried feet walk away in a rush. When the business shoe fades into the distance, the older wiser voice speaks with obvious irritation as he flips open something with a snap “Damn kid, going to blow up the whole place. Dimwit, he almost did too.” Girl-Zero couldn’t hear what else was said, she guessed into a phone of some kind and after a few minutes, the weathered voice spoke again. “Yes, alright, alright, yeah no problem. No more Harvard flunkies yeah, world’s a happy place with less of them in it, I agree entirely. Giving myself a pat on the back now sir, we averted calamity.” And then silence again, after a minute or two, a few more words slipped out, “No, no one will miss him, least of all me. Goodbye sir.” Another snap and slower steps followed in the younger man’s footsteps. Something about the walk resembled a funeral march.

Girl-Zero waited for the man to continue on his way, listening to the footsteps breaking the back of the floor with each heel of his leather skin black shoes. Deep inside her, stirred the disgust and the relevance of problems and solutions. The absence of hesitation, and a cool fluid movement with which she walked, she knew she was as deep and dead as this man. Perhaps, worse, no… she knew she was much worse. Capable of much worse, and had done much worse in the past.

She followed this man as quietly as she could, though she waited while he walked down a long narrow corridor by himself, as there was nowhere to leap or hide behind if he were to turn for any reason. She did not like having no contingency plans for eventualities of that nature. She held herself in high esteem for a well-thought out execution. However, deep inside the condescendingly derisive nature of the last words to the younger man, there was a spark of life holding onto the young man’s recent accomplishment. If the whole place blew, his tenure at this god-forsaken place would be over, if only that little brat succeeded!

But no, it was not to be. And Girl-Zero, was happy about that, it meant her mission was still a go. Despite what that might mean for her future, probably another mission after that, and another and another… she expected and did not resent the repetitive nature of this work, after all, who else got to play hide and seek with thousands of people everyday. And, what’s more, she got to go into every door marked, “No Entry”.

She saw the older man, in a dark blue sports jacket, with matching slacks and shining black shoes turn a corner on the long walk and allowed her to traverse the hallway without fear of being caught. In mere moments, while they were alone, a female voice popped into her ears. “So far, so good. Your coming up on the main reactors, now Zero. From the last conversation, we were able to determine that another extra shift of engineers is on duty to fix a major overload caused by “juniors” experiment. So this area will be highly populated and likely, very annoyed, do not get in their way. As well, because of this overload, many of the sensors are offline, but they are working fast to repair the grid, but if their circuit boards are blown, or if capacitors are melting, it could take longer than that. Do not take extra time to get out of here, if the reactor’s meltdown, or…” And Girl-Zero, replied, “An Electromagnetic release will short circuit everything in my body and I will be dead, I know that.” And the worried feminine voice replied,

“That’s correct.”

Girl-Zero hated that weakness, and it was her only real weakness. Electricity does not play well with itself, she knew. There was a saying, “Too much of a good thing.” And it was true in her case.

A few fingers type in a fluid set of motions with her fingertips just lightly tapping each letter, as a small report was written. Summarizing the events so far, and how smoothly things are progressing. Girl-Zero was moving cautiously, but unlike other missions the sensitive nature of the compound could not known to have been compromised, otherwise… the media would hear about every dirty little project that was supposedly, “scraped”. And a hefty amount of untold tax dollars being spent in ways that went beyond dubious. But hey, it was the modern age, mature! Or so people would say, the cynical people, the bored and angry people. The ones that couldn’t quite grasp the extent themselves. And, most importantly, the ones that already knew stuff like this went down everywhere.

She had short brown hair that just tipped on her shoulders, a slim figure with a lot of tattoo’s on her arms and her back. Glimpses of dragons, flames and another life underneath the professional cheerful exterior. With a tap of her baby finger on her right hand, the message was sent to her companies client. A man none of them knew a lot about, only that he wanted a specific piece of information from the data files of a server located within the “non-existent” compound deep within the South American jungle and he was willing to pay through the grave to do it. He might as well, have sold his liver, right lung and part of his heart. It was astronomical, and in these days, they were not willing to negotiate, just accept. The kind of job everyone wants a piece of.

Everyone whispered though, as if on the tip of their tongues, held back by a polite demeanour and a strange sense of exciting fear, they had it on their fingertips. “a wealthy industrialist supporting the nationalist rebellion against the Russian government”, “a crazy rich business man involved with wet works, and cutting edge research with robotics, cybernetics and bio mechanical advances Scientific American only dreams about,” “a government spook sent to find information about a rival senator, to make a political move into the offices of corporate CEO’s,” but none of them could really say any of them with any conviction. As long as they all sounded important for a few minutes, who really got hurt? They all agreed that this job was lucrative like the health industry was to the insurance companies back in the early to late 90’s, something Senators quit their tenures for. As the rumours flew, the truth kept itself out of the conversation, and everyone agreed it was probably boring anyway.

In an office, a few thousand miles away, within a large dark office building. A square amongst a collage of light grey, white and brown circles, triangles, and octagonal shapes, there was something about it that didn’t fit in. The architecture seemed out of date, as if the building came out of the 1970’s and was transplanted in. The office was full of rounded edges, of mahogany, with a dark chocolate coloured finish. He was well built, and yet his mannerisms depicted that of a soft spoken man with a large sensitive spot. It almost betrayed his muscular build, and the way he moved with it gracefully, like a fighter. It was more than that, because his ability to be correct about everything that comes across to him, like some kind of machine. His smile had lots to say, and no one had the impulses to say it but him. And, what made everyone laugh with honesty was his nickname, “Mr. Impossible.” It was too arrogant to be taken seriously, and everyone jibed at him for it. He took it all in stride, and never got defensive, as if the name stuck to him like gum on the heel of sneakers might stick. He read a report with interest, his eyes scanning over the brief paragraphs indicating progress within the compound. Especially interesting, was the robots abilities to determine on it’s own denoting an advanced AI system component closely resembling a natural human brain, with some distinguishable differences. And, among these differences, was a cold rationality coupled with a light hearted humour that seemed to be passé about the harshest of human flaws. It was expected in a machine, but not so much in a person. Perhaps, the machine would not fault morally, within the secured walls of right and wrong where many people were at fault. Choosing lines and sides based on silly notions of justice, revenge and so forth.

It was experience that taught him to take these ideas into consideration because many people clung to them, as a support structure for their lives and how to live them, when it got in the way of decent discoveries and progress. At the top of the report, he raised his eyes back to a question the robot had asked of her operator, "Did you get anymore information on the package I am collecting?” and it raised an eyebrow. In all of the information he found about previous exploits it had never questioned anything it did. Stealing schematics for new biological delivery systems, blueprints for nuclear reactors, blackmailing senators with incriminating photographs, and framing high level executives with felony offences. All of this seemed remarkably well-done without any backlash, questions or speculation. Why now?

Mr. Impossible thought about this for a minute, and realized it may not be as important as quelling the questions, as they were symptoms of a greater understanding of the mission’s true goals. This was something he could not tolerate, nor would he dare let someone down there realize what he was hiring them to do. He picked up the phone and an older man’s voice came on the phone. The voice was husky, and full of grit, but the greeting proved he was worth his salt. “Mr. Master’s window repair, Robert speaking. How can I help you?” Mr. Impossible replied, “Hello, I am here regarding the window beneath the archway on 22nd street, near the bakery. It’s not fixed yet.” He sounded casual and even jubilant. Though, the last few words had an incurrent of concern hinted in the finality of the last “t” sound. The sound that stops the heart for a mere few seconds and then the body forgets all about it because there’s no basis to be afraid. Is there?

“Oh, we’re sorry, we’ve got a lot of customers and the waiting… wait,” a sigh escapes the husky voice, a long drawn out flight from the back of the throat to his teeth. Some banging sounds are heard, and loud footsteps. A loud slam enough to move the whiskers on Mr. Impossible’s cheek. “Yes, I can talk here. Is this Mr. Impossible speaking?” The voice sounded concerned and frightened indicated by the shakiness and random high pitches in his voice. “No, it’s his secretary Ralph Colders. We’ve received your report and we have found some discrepancies we would like to discuss with you.” Some silence after the matter of fact explanation, and “Ralph” continued on. “Namely, the question asked after insertion took place that was not properly addressed. We were curious as to why the nature of the mission was not detailed to the element.” The voice on the other end sounded more professional now, and more in control, the voice did not shake, and maintained an even tone. “Yes, we felt the nature of the mission was on a need to know basis, and we fear there might be a relationship formed for the top secret prototypes stored here and herself. If there were any others like her made, and so forth. We do not want to risk it.”

“Yes, I understand you government spooks do that kind of thing, need to know and all that. On this occasion though, we’ve authorized complete disclosure. Just because it’ll stop any further questions, otherwise agents just ask more and you know how that goes, Rob eh?” Mr. Impossible liked the idea of being other people, easy going, free spirited and light hearted. He felt these personalities gave the other person the ability to speak freely as well, to join in the happiness on the other end. “Yes, completely. We’ll detail the nature of the mission completely, thank you. And let your boss know there will not be any further discrepancies on this end from here on out.” It sounded serious, professional and measured. As if Robert was fighting the urge to be free spirited like “Ralph”. Perhaps, he dealt with everyone this way, or perhaps he was frightened by Mr. Impossible himself. Thought of him as one those insane people that went around doing whatever he pleased. Perhaps, it had nothing to do with him at all, but a rigid sense of professionalism. Mr. Impossible decided on the last one, not wanting egocentricity to take another victim.

“Sure, I’ll get right on that. He will appreciate your efforts, Robert. You have a good day.” And Robert replied with a bit of relief. “Yes, you as well, Mr. Colders.” A click and the phone was hung up. Aliases were something Mr. Impossible did on the spur of the moment, because it was easier being someone else considering the person he was had many facets that were easy to misunderstand and become the topic of conversation and within that reason, a yearning not to be understood, because it was less confusing for others to believe what he wanted them to believe, because the truth held many atrocities that were confusing even to the most knowledgeable mind, because he did not want the truth anymore, and mostly, because his real employer could be hurt with the truth. And because the truth was the only real weapon left in this world, an incorruptible center to which all that stands the test of time is built upon, he knew this while so many people did not.

Girl-Zero heard someone coming towards her before she climbed up the wall, more like scampered up the wall and hugged the ceiling where she became very still. A man in a grey overall suit came striding up not immediately noticing the slight indents on the walls, or the sounds that created them. Though, his eyes blinked, as he spotted small hands and feet leading upwards, he looked at them for a minute perplexed and then saw that they lead upwards. His head turned upwards following the tracks, as he spotted a square like piece of ceiling tile put perfectly in place above his head. But, no sign of anyone there and the tracks suddenly stopped there. Was what more confusing, that he found someone crawling up walls? Or that the tracks suddenly stopped and no one could have done this, no human being anyway. Due to the reduction of damage on the walls, no broken drywall bits on the floor, no chipped walls, no small holes for handholds. It didn’t make any sense that a person would do this.

“What the hell?” said the man in overalls, as he carefully scanned the area once more. He then shook his head confusedly, Walking away he stopped after a few steps to turn his head back towards the corner, he rubbed his chin. Thinking this over, he only knew of one creature with feet that small, a small child. But, a child couldn’t walk on the walls. He turned back and continued on his way, with a lot of weird questions stirring around in his head. Girl-Zero crept out of her hiding space, and dropped back down to the floor. She departed to the right wall that appeared to have an office light on at the middle of the hall. A light yellow colour splashed against the stark whiteness of the drywall pain provided some of the only variety on the surfaces of this compound. Girl-Zero heard no voices, except a few fingers typing away at a computer.

She approached quietly and then passed by the doorway, quietly as not to cause a stir. The hallway continued onwards for about seven meters and then turned left. With many offices further on, and many more keyboards typing away and murmurings of voices adding to the ambience of a normal office environment. She turned the corner and saw a busy office of many people walking about in every direction, great just what I need. She continued on spying a door to either side of her, the left was wide open while the right was left ajar. She saw that the left had three people in it, all huddled around a single computer, while the other remained quiet except for quiet murmurings and sounds of… unravelling, snuffling and a quiet girlish… giggle? Girl-Zero knew humans to be humans, and took an educated guess what was behind door number one.

“You know we can’t,” with a slight French accent was all that she needed to hear, and all that she heard. She saw glass above three feet ahead of her cutting off the remaining several rooms from each other, a clear view of several employees on the phones, writing reports, summaries, and some were annoyed and shaking their heads. Punctuated within the office were men in large overalls like the man Girl-Zero had evaded earlier, likely he would tell them of the strange experience if he returned. But, it was something she could not help. A missing person caused more questions to be asked, inquiries as to whereabouts and cause of death?

She strode low staying below the glass and she saw it was too busy to effectively creep by any given group because there were people going everywhere. She would inevitably be seen, her logical processor didn’t need to tell her that. The hallway offered many doorways, many that lead to occupied offices and others that people were leaving and entering too quickly to enter in and hide. But, hide for how long? It was something she didn’t want to do, besides the quicker she achieved her objective, the less chance there was of detection and complications arising from it.

She saw several open doors in front of her with lights flooding the hallway, and of all the doors that were open, there was one that was closed. The others were open, as well as the space directly above her that lead into a bright office. It seemed someone was speaking on the phone in that room, something about a stressful life here. The locked door looked like an unremarkable door, except that there was a code lock on the front of it 25 meters away. She heard the door behind her, to the right, shut rather loudly. They finally kicked it shut, typical people. The person on the phone turned their heads and muttered, “assholes” and then turned back talking on the phone. She reckoned that whatever was behind the locked door, was the server for the entire area. But, she would like to bypass the whole area if necessary, but her schematics didn’t show any vent shafts leading out of the area that were easy to get to.

She grasped onto the wall and quickly, and as quietly as she could, climbed into the office towards young lady speaking on the telephone. There was a few footprint sounds but nothing that made this woman turn her head. “Yes, I know about that. It was Roberta’s idea.” Some chatter on the other end ensued, as Girl-Zero quietly traversed the room to the other doorway to the woman’s right. “Wait, I think I have that here.” Some clicks with a mouse, and a few taps on the keyboard. “Wait, what was that?” And Girl-Zero, having nowhere to turn ducked low on the floor not making a move. But, it only lasted a second and the young woman continued on with her conversation. “Oh, never mind. So many strange noises in the place, I swear there must be ghosts here. Anyway, the 7A lab report..” and the conversation was dismally boring after that. Girl-Zero continued sneaking by her petite frame into the open doorway and then quickly ducked behind the wall, as she heard the woman get up from her chair. The high heels echoing in the hallway, as she stepped closer to the doorway. She looked down the hallway and saw a few men in dark grey overalls looking over a few papers attached to a black plastic clipboard. She hugged the wall making herself, as thin as she could, as the door closed shut. Moments later, the other door closed and this avenue was shut off. But, she moved beyond it just in time. There was a shadow in this area because the light wasn’t on, she climbed up the wall here and hid on the ceiling feeling she was exposed hanging onto the wall. In that corner, there was no door directly behind her, but there was full jug of water upside down on a large white platform with a dispenser below the water jug.

Her reasoning allowed her to realize that hiding in the shadows only worked well if the light did not reflect off of her and if she did not move very much, or at all. Though, she had to move and get beyond this point before she was detected, or worse. One advantage to this location was that she had a good view of everyone in the office. This allowed her to spy a black haired young man in a dressy blue shirt and dressy dark pants with matching leather shoes stride toward the water dispenser. She was hugging the ceiling and she saw his eyes not looking up, but rather forward with a smile on his face. The kind of confident smile that spoke of authority.

Perhaps, assumed authority. Girl-Zero didn’t want to contemplate the specifics too much. It was irrelevant. He took a paper cup from the stack on the side of the dispenser and then took some water, as the bubbles climbed from the bottom of the jug towards the top with a glup glup sound. He took a large gulp of water, standing up tilting his head back quickly with his eyes closed. He looked to be enjoying that cup of water and then looked forward again. She then thought of something, what if she walked on the ceiling? Considering how many people looked up to gaze at the ceiling, well some people did when they had no ideas about what to do next, or if they were bored or laying down. Still, it was better than walking around with all the activity around this area. She crept out from the shadow above the young man’s short black hair and into the office opposite the now closed office doors. An older man was sitting at a desk writing put something longhand that looked to be a letter to someone. He was focused on it and did not look up, as she made her way around the fluorescent light a meter long.

She activated her schematic then and it showed there were no stairways, but that the locked door did contain servers and an electrical box. She reasoned that a large enough short circuit could disable the servers entirely and cut security down. Then there would be evidence of tampering and coupled with the strange tracks found on the walls earlier, something could be theorized. But, still, if she managed to evade everyone in this office and move on to her objective without so much as a peep, who was the wiser. She was crawling on the ceiling into the original hallway where she entered the office looking at a group of three men in overalls walking towards her all discussing amongst themselves, and then briskly walked under her. She continued on her way above them making her way across the office past many busy workers and technicians.

She was lucky as well, all of the cameras were disabled in this section, otherwise making it past them without disabling them might have been impossible. Lucky for her technical breakdowns occurred, and even more so, that people were the ultimate cause of mechanical failure. It was a stroke of luck people worked here, and it was a stroke of luck some were poorly trained. Some, and not all, as she spotted the older man from before. The man that walked, as if he was holding a coffin. He was standing next to the young man he was speaking to before speaking amicably about his summer vacation, eliciting a lot of laughs from the young man. A shame he had no idea what was coming to him. A moment later, the older man clapped the younger man on the shoulder and started to lead him away from the group he was with. She overheard a snippet of the conversation. “Alright, we can take a look at the new virtual reality unit, because I think I can fix the resolution bug. If it works on this unit, we can program it into the rest. Where is it, left?” And the older man nodded faintly saying nothing. They continued their jovial attitude, as they walked under Girl Zero going in the direction she was heading.

She followed them on the ceiling having not been spotted yet. But, always ready to spring if she heard a voice indicating that someone saw her. They were walking at a normal pace, and did not seem hurried. Nothing about what the older man was saying, held any tension, or remorse. Something about this, seemed all too natural for him. Something Girl-Zero could relate to herself, and it bothered her. And, unlike everything else that came through on her data read outs, she was able to keep her emotional development secret by processing it as random data bits rather than a coherent code. It was disregarded and treated as erroneous data due to processing that had no relevance to the mission. Something no one knew she still possessed.

She continued onwards, following the two, trying not to make any noise as her feet and hands acted like suction cups with a very quiet release, as not to have any pops. They turned down a hallway and she quickly went after them happy to be out of the offices. Where it seemed someone swore rather loudly, as the lights dimmed for a moment or two, flicked back on and then some of them went dead. More shouting elicited from the office area and flashlights were turned on. As she turned the corner, they were in the room at the far end of the hallway based on the direction their voices were coming from. She continued crawling on the ceiling towards them, as she got closer parts of the conversation became relevant. “In fact, most of the experiments with these units has proven successful in making test environments for many combat simulations, and we’re very excited by their progress. Now if you will just take a seat here.” The older man said. The younger man laughed lightly as he said, “Oh cool, so I put this on.” As the older man closed the door, he said, “Yes.”

The voices were mumbled then, as a machine was turned on. Girl-Zero was right against the door then, as something heavy was put on the floor with a muffled clank. “Just listen to my voice, Tom. What your feeling is a light headedness due to the difference of perspective, everyone feels this at first. Just breathe deeply and it will pass shortly. You feel alright?” The older man spoke in a wonderfully jovial calm voice. With a soft, and warm undertone to it. She could hear through a vent right beside the door, as she heard a distant younger man’s voice say, “Yes, I feel fine.” The young man said it slower than usual, as if the words were not coming to his mind as quickly as normal. Somehow, something seemed wrong with the way the younger man was speaking. As if he was being drugged, or having his mind manipulated in some way. Perhaps, the VR unit had elicit programs that calmed the soldiers down. She did not know. But, the older man’s earlier comments about light headedness suggested drugs, perhaps, inhaled.

She continued to listen to the older man’s soothing voice, and something inside her tensed up. She was not soothed, and not calmed down. She felt a fear, stinging her. “I know this is your first time trying this Tom, so I want you to know that this data will help further research to start testing on a wider scale. We are going to present this soon to the board of directors. Tom, are you listening?” And another distant, perhaps more distant voice, said. “Yes, I am. Sounds wonderful.” He said in a long drawn out breath, as if trying to come up with the strength, or the will to speak. Something about his voice seemed to be dropping off. He seemed to be falling asleep. “Good, I was just making sure. You should be feeling a sense of euphoria now, as the brain begins to adjust to the environment it is enveloped in. Just breathe deeply, and if you feel the need to rest your eyes, go ahead. The data will still be recorded whether you are awake or not. Do you feel sleepy at all?” And again, a drone came out of the young man that resembled the word, “yeah.” And the older man said, “Alright, I will come back to check on you in a few hours. Just stay still. Have a nice rest, Tom.” And the older man was heard walking towards the door. Girl-Zero had heard the last few words and moved up the hallway and entered into a door marked, stairs, level 5. She knew the fate of Tom, like many before him a man with high dreams, aspirations and the rare indefinable quality that keeps him going, striving to be and not sleeping. Sleeping would be all he does now, and Girl-Zero turned his head a hundred and eighty degrees to look at the older man come out of the room from her perch on the ceiling several meters away from the door. His slightly balding head reflected the light from the fluorescing starkness baking itself on the scalp. And, one of the many times, random data appears on her processor was when a notion of a dank pollution was found to be seeping into the man’s pores, like a cancer caught from the air. The kind of effluence not caught by the air scrubbers, or a handkerchief when you cough.

She turned her head back towards the doorway where young Tom laid. She brought her schematic and found she was near a stairwell that was situated on the other side of the wall where Tom was currently. To find a door meant she had to re-enter the office area and, it was a stroke of luck she was not seen crawling on the ceiling trying to avoid light fixtures or, unfastened ceiling tiles. It was quicker to make a hole and crawl through it, depending what was behind the drywall. It wasn’t like Tom was going to make a fuss over a hole, and whoever found it would have a real story on their hands with a dead body in the room.

She dropped to the floor and strode towards the door, it was closed but she found it was not locked. How odd, maybe he didn’t expect anyone to come down here. She opened it and quickly entering the room, she closed the door behind her with both hands, as not to make a sound. Her schematics showed it was the western wall she needed to work with. At that moment, she gazed toward Tom still sitting in the chair motionless except for a considerable build up of moisture where he was sitting. Girl-Zero spent no more time with Tom, with a dirty yellow cylinder next to him on floor, that emitted a faint hissing sound from the nozzle of a tube running towards the ‘virtual’ reality unit attached to Tom’s head. However, her sensors indicated traces of toxins not normally found in the air. The room was permeated with them, no wonder the older man left shortly after it was activated. However, the rank smell this would normally create in someone’s nose before they passed out did not occur with Girl-Zero, and she did not pass out.

If she made the hole, whatever toxins were present within this room, would flood the stairway and more people could be potentially contaminated. So, she turned off the valve on the cylinder with a short hissing sound that briefly got louder and then stopped. The handle creaked and squeaked when she closed it as tight as she could. She went towards the western wall that had nothing in front of it and made a hold with her fist into the drywall. She then punched a hole in the drywall with the other hand and proceeded to create a medium sized hole in the drywall to see what was beyond it. As she figure, there were several wooden 2’4” acting as studs with nails driven into them with large amount of pink insulation inside the walls. After the insulation was taken out, and bangs and clanks struck the floor with a clatter as she created a hole big enough for her to crawl in. She punched a hole through to the other side and crawled through tearing the drywall away and then flipped onto the stairs.

She went down the stairs without a second thought. Something worse was going to expose itself on the stairwell pretty soon, as all dead bodies stank worse than living ones. She passed by two doors on her way down staying out of sight of two security cameras by crawling along the walls. The third, she disabled due to it’s position on the stairways. It was pointing directly at the door she wished to enter, and while this may cause suspicion at the security desk. She was sure they could repair the damage. Well, they could not repair the holes in the wall she made earlier, very easily. It was a six meter drop onto the stairwell. She approached the door and, with a clinical exactness the door opened with a whooshing sound, as it slide along the floor leaving a doorway resembling a submarine. She hated how secret compounds all had areas with the very latest in door technology. It all felt like it was a maze, and she was lab rat.

She stepped in gingerly, and quickly darted right behind a cleaning cart. The door whooshed shut again, with a click. She was closed in now, she knew it despite what that click could have meant. Besides, there was a cleaning lady in the room with bright blue slacks, and matching flannel shirt. She was about 5’9” and weighed a modest 150lbs. She looked busy mopping the floor while her mind was elsewhere. The room had a lot of chemical residue in it that must have been the cleaning solution she was using to disinfect. She looked up at the door for a mere second and then went back to mopping unaware of anyone entering the hallway. She called out with a slight accent, reminiscent of mexico, spain, cuba, something with a Spanish dialect. “Is anyone there?”. The voice did not sound scared, more curious. It was clear she was bored out of her mind. She crept closer to the cleaning wagon and Girl-Zero slowly crept out, as not to startle her. The cleaning lady stepped back with her eyes blinking. She said, with a frightened voice, “What are you doing here?”

Girl-Zero replied in a pleasant, charming and disarming voice, at least she hoped it was disarming. “I, um… I got lost?” She gave a small shrug, very much like a kid of seven. She remained quiet and looked confused. Still, she was gripping her mop enough to cause the knuckles on her hands to be white. “Hey, I‘m not going to hurt you.” She said with a smile, and the cleaning lady still held onto her mop, at once, oblivious to her surroundings. “ok, the strong silent type, got it.” She strode past her and the cleaning lady backed away to the wall watching every move Girl-Zero made. Girl-Zero, upon passing the cleaning lady, she turned her head and giggled a little, as if it was a huge joke. It was then that a chattering came into her ear. She turned her head away from the cleaning lady then and stopped walking.

“You are taking an awful risk being spotted like this. You realize she could alert security to your presence. She’s a liability.” the voice on the other end said with a sigh. A heavy sigh. “Negative, proceeding as planned.” was the response, as friendly as ever. Command came in with a slight crackle, “Negative? You realize the first thing she is going to do is phone for security. It’s what I would do. And, you know many before would love to capture you, and study you. It’s a risk we are not willing to take.” The voice sounded slightly distorted. “It is too much trouble in here. Listen, transmission is starting to break up. Materials appear to be steel, that has a faint electromagnetic field surrounding it, due to electric wiring embedded in the wall. Any other rules you want me to break before contact becomes impossible?” There was a brief pause, as if angry, or annoyed. Girl-Zero, guessed both. The voice on the other end came in, “No, no more. We view this as a serious breach of logical programming and clearly defined mission parameters. When communication becomes available again, we will find another route for extraction considering you just busted your only known escape route.” And, the transmission became full of static. “Command, command. Come in, your breaking up.” Girl-Zero sighed and then shaking her head, looked back at the cleaning lady. “Guess, I’m all alone now, just like you. Listen, it would be really bad if people found out about me down here. Can we keep a secret? Just us girls?” The cleaning lady nodded slowly, she spoke then, “You disregarded their orders to kill me, didn’t you?” And Girl-Zero nodded. “Yes, I did. Your defenceless. Do not let me regret this.” Girl-Zero looked at her with a semi-serious grin on her face. As if appearing, serious and playful, all at once.

The cleaning lady swallowed then and said, “Sure. You got my word. No one will know.” Girl-Zero smiled then and nodded. She strode past her and approached the door, and a whooshing sound struck, as softly as a feather hitting her cheek. With enough bite to it, to change the spell the room had cast on them both, enough to alter the silence that clenched the heart in uncertainties. One thing did not change then, the fagile fabric that hangs us all in the balance. And, with her schematics, she detected a small compartment under a floor panel that could have easily stored the body. Perhaps, deep inside, that little bit of information slipped notice.

The radio static continued in Girl-Zero’s left ear and she shut off the communication connection, and the audio circuit. The static died out and she guessed this was the basement levels she entered. She was seen once, and had left evidence behind her. Perhaps, she’ll get blamed for poor Tom’s demise. She shook her head and processed the last encounter. Yes, she took a risk trusting anyone these days, let alone command. Even if she could trust command to do exactly what she expects them to do. This cleaning lady was another story, what if people are as fickle as the wind that exits their behinds?

It made her uneasy, queasy, and she felt confused then. Putting that aside, she saw a fork in the hallways. One side was, labelled Lab A -C and then other side was labelled, D-G. In large black letters against a marble background a foot and a half long, and half a foot wide. Below these two signs, there appeared the words, also in black block lettering, “Administration”. She walked right, towards the Administration and Labs D-G. She listened carefully, and heard no one coming, or no one leaving behind her. I guess the cleaning lady was still standing still deciding her situation, she had to get out of here quick if the lady decided to cry wolf.

She darted around the corner and saw several doors all labelled with an alpha numeric designation that went in increments of 2 with each door. A2, A4, A6, A8, A10... And so on. It did not matter what side the door was on, each number was even until it reached A22. Each of these doors stayed shut when she approached them. About, five feet above the floor was a hand shaped square that showed up on Girl-Zero’s sensors as having a lot of electronic circuitry underneath it.

There was little chance she would be hindered by a hand print scanner. After a brief scan, she found it was highly secure network and it would take a little time to break through the ice to get beyond the server’s security and trick it. She realized she needed to get out of the hallway if someone came walking around. She, approached one of the doors, A6 was on the front of it in large black lettering against a light grey marble surface against a reflective steel surface. Not a lot of dust in this area, must mean that traffic is not that frequent. Perhaps, not a lot of people worked here, or perhaps they were all sleeping.

She put her palm on the steel door frame and climbed up towards the panel. She put her face in front of the panel and using her weight with two legs and one hand, the other one ripped open a panel to the left of the hand scanner, and then found a lot of wiring for power, and data transfer. All she needed to do was to find the right one, and then she saw a blue serial female connector below the wiring jumble and then her pointing finger on her free hand opened up to reveal a connector to fit the desired port. Once she connected to the unit, she met many security blocks, asking for ten digit alphanumeric pin codes. She started on the many possibilities, the enormously large amount of permutations, the deviations one letter or number could make. The amount of time could take a serious computer several days, to weeks, to crack it. So, as this was running, she looked for other routes to disable the device and open the door, or to hack into it using less subtler methods.

She tried looking for backdoor program defaults, finding none, she looked for atypical backdoor programs and none turned up either. She looked for any encrypted files, or directories but she was denied access by the ten digit pin she was currently trying to decipher. She was working at this for half an hour until eventually, the computer started talking to her in a much more positive light. She had found a small directory filled with technical notes on the system, nothing much was complete or detailed, except it did have many small notes about various levels of security added to the software and that it was only done yesterday. Perhaps, there were bugs in the newly written code she could exploit. One note in particular, mentioned that D33A did not get rid of a strange encryption method that encoded a single file named, Mados.sys. This file took a minute to decipher using roman numerals and then translating to English from Greek. Since the pin was nowhere near finished, she decided to try and bypass the security lock entirely, using a backdoor that granted her access to a technician’s tools. The normal stuff meant to check for bad sectors, incomplete login attempts, and suspicious activity within the system, as well as, intricate notes on a completely reworked system for the Bios, Cmos and the bit structure deviating away from the 4, 8, 16, 32, pattern and using odd numbers and different permutations to achieve getter efficiency. Essentially, changing the very fundamentals of computers. Girl-Zero was lucky, if they had implemented this into these units, she might not have been able to gain access electronically.

She found in Mados.sys that there was an exploit due to a security loophole allowing technicians to use a secret five letter password holding down two keys to bypass security for minor directories. She gained access to minor directories, and searched for any notes about more sensitive systems. If they made that kind of mistake, they were likely to create other loopholes that were a tad bit trickier. She was hanging on the wall for about twenty minutes until a breakthrough occurred. She found the ten digit pin code in the first letter of each minor directory minus three. It was kind of funny, it being right there and yet completely hidden. There was a note as well, explaining this with several addendums explaining the chances of this and how funny it was, but no notes about alteration.

One of them said, “Look, you morons! It doesn’t take a seven year computer science student or a well-established awarded professor to figure out a simple security breach of this magnitude! SOMEONE change the directory structure and remember, because of our immensely powerful technological breakthroughs we research here, we all must use simple rudimentary implements such as PENCILS to write down these codes. Everyone who remembers using these tools will also remember a flat carbon based material created from the genus group of plant life called TREES. I will not repeat what it is here, because it shocks me I had to explain to someone what it was already today.” -Edward Stone. She giggled and shook her head. Yes, paper, the brilliant discovery made far before anything called -computer- was even thought of. Who knew it would be so useful. She accessed the major directories then and saw many of them resembling last names, weird synonyms, and acronyms, and several directories better off named “twain”.

She knew it would take too much time to search through every directory, so she picked one at random deciding a file of their hand print was on file with the rest of their user information. However, this was not the case because she did not find any files relating to fingerprint recognition, or anything relating to scanners. She did a quick scan of the rest of the user directories and found a lot of tasty gossip about a camping trip, illicit photographs, plans to build a deck, a new staffing hierarchy for the offices on another floor, but nothing about hand prints or the technology behind it. She deleted all the information she did find, knowing it was all a smoke screen for something far most dubious. Useless facts shouldn’t be stored on a secure server like this, unless it was meant to convince a hacker, “her” namely, that nothing was actually there.

It did occur to her that she was not searching too deeply, and she was not utilizing all of her capability in this section of the network because she was trying to be efficient about it, then she realized that the answer lied deeply within this system instead of on the surface. It appeared that the password she did find was a stroke of luck. It was likely some people were also fired for that mistake and rightly so. She redid her search using an argument to search for hidden directories and found a few, however, she knew there was more. She added arguments to her search pattern and more showed up. It was also clear these directories were protected using methods her current software could not recognize. Some were using passwords, and others were trying to tell her software that they were not there when there were slight indications that the directories existed, except it was ostensive to even suggest such a thing.

A directory took up space, and Girl-Zero calculated the maximum amount of space in the directory and found a lot of it taken up by directories that were not being found. She calculated the hidden directories she did find and recalculated the maximum amount and there was still a significant gap. Something else bothered her because the resources being sent to this system seemed to be double what it normally needed. As if the resources were being used by software, and hardware that did not exist. A lot of memory was being used for programs that were in the directory she was in, and yet she could not find any of those programs or the directories where they were. She felt like she was chasing ghosts, and it was then that it struck her. She needed to change the basic algorithm she was using to search. It was a long complex equation, and it was not changed since she was changed, created?

Suddenly, she is in a field of flowers surrounded by other children playing a game of soccer. It was her turn to kick the ball, and she did! Really far, she was doing good! In the exhilaration of the moment, the cold dank walls and the inhumanity left her. She watched the ball with wide eyes as it shot down the field towards the opposing team’s goal. Score! She scored! The breeze brushed against her face, as she jumped for joy feeling the blades of grass between her toes. Feeling a bug fall off of her leg above her ankle, she let it pass, as all the other girls on her team rushed to her with big smiles in their faces. She was so happy, and the screamed out loud. “Did’ja see! Did’ja see! I made a goal! We gonna win!” Then, all the other girls disappeared. She was no longer at the soccer field.

Everything was dark, the sky, the ground beneath her. It was burning, woodchips (was it woodchips?), and a pungent stench of death. She saw animal remains, and yet not everything looked like animal remains. Some of it closely resembled human remains as well. She saw bits that could belong to a pelvis, and others that closely resembled parts of a finger. Nothing was together, and there were so many ashes, and smoke. She was surrounded by smoke climbing high into the sky. But, the most atrocious thing was not what she saw. It was what she heard that made her heart beat, beating quickly, out of fear. Heart, beat… beat…. Beat… She heard the flames burn unknown materials around her, and cracking wood, and small explosions to her left, random gunfire to her right off in the distance.

She closed her eyes and then opened them finding herself back staring at the hand print scanner. “What the hell!?” she said with a shake of her head. Shaking off the feeling of guilt, and pain. It was then that she held onto her chest, above her heart, heart? HEART! She had no heart. She had no…. heart. And the faint sound of it beating, quieter, quieter… quiet was still echoing in her ears. It was a long moment of silence before she realized she was still trying to break into the room in front of her. Whatever that experience was, it would have to wait, despite how disturbed she was as a result.

She saw she was no longer in the system at all, and then she shook her head. It was time to just hotwire the bloody thing and leave it at that. The security system could be broken, as all systems would be under her delicate touch. Though, she wanted out of there and quickly, before another flashback, if that’s what it was, gripped her entirely. At a time, less opportune than her current situation allowed.

She found a red wire and then a blue one, and before ripping them out. She did find that one was AC power, connected to an adapter and another was DC. The voltage was listed on the adapter itself, a large black rectangular box. Lots of other yellow wires were going from circuit to circuit bunched together with plastic ties going every which way. An electricians nightmare if any of these became broken in the smallest possible way. A thought struck her, would the door open if this panel was removed? Or would it never open if the wiring was damaged somehow?
They certainly thought out the security aspect of this section of the compound and it made sense that they would protect against tampering of the circuitry directly rendering the circuit inoperable and thus, the door inoperable as well. She thought as much, at least it made perfect sense to her to put that measure in place. The red and blue wires were larger than the yellow ones and, yet, the yellow wires all seemed to be taking electricity from one circuit to another. Large clusters of yellow wires connected to a large amount of sockets from the left were connected to a large amount of ports on the right in a circle. Her scanners indicated that it was to facilitate the energy needed to power the scanner, as well as, send information back and forth. She found the main processor and finding that it was not protected against direct contact, she placed her finger on the processor unit and found it was receiving interrupts in a loop keeping it in passive mode and to indicate that the panel had been lifted from it’s seating. She gave it a few more interrupts by sending small electric charges to the processor and the door opened moments later.

Hell, if it was that easy, she might just get through this mission. She gave herself a laugh and strode into the unoccupied office. Then, the door shut quickly behind her and clicked. She was locked in, but getting out was likely to be as easy as getting in. She found a desktop computer, and a desk filled with stacks of white paper of various sizes. The desk was a dark grey colour, along with the chair, walls, and the floor. There were no cameras in the office, prison cell, oubliette. Girl-Zero chuckled at how these things resembled the worst places to exist. She went to the Desktop computer and tried to find the schematic and blueprints she was ordered to find. She knew it was likely to be in one of the hidden directories she found out before. Except, she would have to search deeper this time. She started and successfully broke into the computer’s mainframe within a few minutes, and half an hour later she was delving deep into the hidden files finding lots of research on unexplored scientific ideas, all very interesting to investor’s, but not what she was looking for.

She delved deeper, having been there an hour now, and all she came upon was a directory named “God”. God? What the hell was this doing here!? She thought, and could not come up with a reason that it seemed so out of place in a science facility. Religious type maybe? The directory was by itself under a directory called “Theoretical Genesis”. Genesis, beginning, starting, creation, birth, death, ending. All these words played in her eyes and yet none of them seemed to fit with the grand implications of these words. What was there to theorize about something no one could prove? It was too big a question to contemplate and yet, some big brain in this compound wasted his time considering how we all tame to be. She looked in the directory without any password, or any protection, and found, to her surprise, a simple text file that read:

“Current research into the connection between God and Satan has proven to be exemplary within the confines of theory. However, when put to simple facts the deduction that any of these have any sort of basis in reality, fact, let alone scientific endeavour ceases to be important to the betterment of mankind based on the fact that no real proof has been ushered in to prove the existence of a proverbial Hell dimension where every church official on the globe agrees suffering is commonplace, expected and exacted and, along side it, a grand paradise exists where glorious saints, angels and the blessed are lavishly treated for their good deeds on earth. However…

All of this seems to be behind us with a recent find collected from Dr. Absontai and his excavation team from their excursion in northern Canada. Before I continue, the find itself though remarkable and unbelievable at the same time, must be taken with a grain of salt. I, for one, being an experienced and educated researcher have taken the time to ask myself the question if this find isn’t just the creation of an unstable mind that somehow managed to secure his or her work within the confines of a sealed room deep in the mountains. But, I will let you all decide for yourselves because of the amount of evidence found at the site pointing to a direct connection between God, Jehovah, and Lucifer, or otherwise, known as Satan. And, manuscripts that were either unintelligible lines or writings from “beyond”. Somehow, despite the realities present to those who use common sense, this research has flourished with the examination of these pieces of evidence.

Now, onto the writings themselves. From what Dr. Absontai has pieced together, Satan was banished from Heaven because of the rebellion Satan made against God, and his angels. Except, that the original inception of such an idea was started by a third party--”

Girl-Zero instantly looked for any further information regarding this text file and found a lone directory several layers up. She downloaded all of the information within this second directory and continued to read into the text file.

“that called itself, Magar. Any further information about this third party have not been unearthed, and no mention of Magar ever occurs again in biblical texts. It appears that the great battle that ensued was a ruse to weaken both parties and create a conflict that has lasted for thousands, if not billions of years. Of course, this is from the Christian perspective, as other religions all have a different form of Genesis for the creation of the universe, men, women, laws and morality. However, upon review of different religious texts there remains a similarity between the name Magar and another mysterious figure appearing before biblical texts began circulating out of Rome. A name, Malchi, appears in oriental texts and another Magisa, appears in many of the earliest native oral traditions that only the oldest of the elders know. Normally, played out to scare young children into doing chores, behaving well, and so forth. But, to add more credence to this mysterious figure, Dr. Absontai has come up with a relative comparisons with this name and several others that appear in every religious text, oral traditional story, and all of them have this figure inciting war, famine, disease, strife and despondence within societies of various times. The mysterious disappearance of the Mayans, Rome’s burning and rebuilding, plagues, the witch trials, and yet, while they seemed to be sporadic and random, there is a large connection between the method to which this Magar uses to incite these horrific tragedies. There is never any direct contact, except for brief mentions of conversations with Magar, or similar names, and then tragedies occurring thereafter.

Another brief note: Dr. Absontai has lost all contact with his team and no one has seen him. If anyone finds any members of his team, or him, please contact me or one of the security… fuck it, contact anyone and find the sonuvabitch!

-Anonymous.”

She continued her search for schematics and blueprints and found another directory containing her target. Finally, she found schematics about robots, wait… not just robots, but cybernetic implants made into human beings in order to enhance and augment many robotic functions within the human body. If completed, the results would resemble a robotic creature able to break into computers, perform complex electrical feats, and go anywhere with the ability to climb, leap, jump and do the jobs she has been doing all over the world. Great, competition.

She turned back to the locked door and then stopped. After taking a second look at the schematics and blue prints, she made a connection. The name for the project was Genesis Assimilation and then in the corner of the blueprint was a familiar name. Her own. “Kaylee named prototype model for the Genesis Assimilation program. Any and all data for her missions---” the rest was deleted and erased. The schematics showed various metal densities and methods of implantation, implementation of sub routines and, the word “replacement”.

Replacement? Replacement of? Wait… humans into cybernetic models for government work? Who would give it up, and become someone’s pet project that they forget about half way through because funds ran short? There were enough moral quandaries to keep her going for hours, and that was not what bothered her. This mission seemed strange, due to the amount of erroneous data she churned out that tried to make computational calculations of emotional responses, and moral dilemma’s, the hesitations associated with difficult decisions. A minute, then a minute and a half. And all she had to do was move on and escape. Except she went through her orders, “Find blueprints and schematic information pertaining to Genesis Assimilation and proceed to extraction.” And yet, she hesitates. The connection to command was still severed due to electromagnetic interference in the metal infrastructure, but it did not matter because she knew her orders well enough and the quicker she was out of here the happier they would all be.

She would not be happy though, knowing there were people being turned into machines. The loss of feeling, not even cold, not even pain, not even the calculated cruelty people are famous for. No, she had none of that, and these people would have none of it either. All of this, and so much freedom sacrificed, all to become more free and what… powerful? Did these people actually consider power to be a real and tangible commodity? It was beyond comprehension.
And here was some bright scientist considering all of the benefits while the realities climbed ever so slowly up his spine.

She clenched her fists feeling disgust she turned back to the desktop and smashed it with her fist, repeatedly. She smashed the monitor next and then taking several pens she crushed them in her hand onto the papers and then one of her fingers opened up and set them all on fire. After her finger closed back up she pressed a button by the door and it unlocked and whooshed open. Smoke alerted the fire alarm, and she started to run back tracing her steps back towards the door out. She knew she could not return to the door out by the cleaning lady, not now that the alarms were blaring and everything got dark with flashing red lights. Must have scared the locals around here to death, all of a sudden. And yet, she saw no one running to the exit in panic with their eyes looking this way and that.

She heard no footsteps resembling heavy work boots, or the shuffling of oversized pant legs as they hurried up and down the hallways. She did not hear raised voices, shouts and orders, mutterings, cries or scoffs of annoyance. She did not hear anyone on the loud speaker, she did not hear people speaking into radios, or any of the static that bursts right before someone picks it up and holds the small black button on the side. However, she did hear several doors slam shut with several loud thuds, and then a definite series of clicks that could only mean they were all locked. She saw above her small holes opening in the ceiling followed by a slight hissing sound, as her sensors picked up a chemical toxin entering the air from storage tanks held in the ceiling. Her sensors picked up five foot wide cylinders a foot and a half long connected to pipes that were connected to several others in a complicated series of pipes adding an entire foot to the ceiling. It was likely to keep this area free of communication by creating an electromagnetic field with the specific metal they used for the siding of the pipes. Girl-Zero immediately moved towards the room she entered this complex with only to find the cleaning lady unconscious on the floor near the exit with a gas mask that only seemed to be partially on. She didn’t have time to make it to the door, let alone put a mask on.

Girl-Zero quickly attached the gas mask properly to the woman’s face. She found a weak pulse, and shallow breathing that indicated a difficulty in her lungs with the toxins present in the air. Likely, they were failing and there was little Girl-Zero could do for her. Except, Girl-Zero never accepted that. She moved to the door and found that the locks were holding the door at six different points. One at the top, one at the bottom and two on each side. There were no digital readouts, no hand print recognition units, not even a handle to pull the door open. The door was not composed of something brittle like copper, bronze or aluminium. This was several inches of solid steel and titanium deeper within. She moved back to the cleaning lady and put her ear close to her chest, while she was looking at the gas mask covering the smooth, unblemished oval shaped head. Girl-Zero knew that the skin breathed as well, and that most chemicals were absorbed by the skin making the gas mask all but useless in those situations. Still, she heard a heart beat, and her chest rose and fell with regularity. The other disturbing thing was that while the toxins were being released, the oxygen was not cycling through and eventually this would cause asphyxiation despite the mask being on or not.

Girl-Zero grabbed a hold of each of the woman’s legs and began to drag her along the floor.

Two eyes felt heavy, like lead weights were attached to them and suddenly the urge to rub them became overwhelming and the itching stopped once some fingers wiped away the muck that had collected at the corner of her eyes, close to the nose. Oddly enough, it was her ears that came to the waking world next, and she swore she could hear Mano Chao playing quietly beneath the whooshing of a large fan, a repeating beat with a calming click of something plastic against something else. She could hear Mano Chao though, singing Ma Gustas Tu. He loves marijuana, no surprise there. And, at that time, her blurry eyes could make out lots of grey concrete, and a light coming in to the left with shadows going in a circle around and around. It almost put her to sleep again watching the shadows as she lay on something hard. Except, her head was resting against something soft, and she turned her head and closed her eyes again. Sleep overwhelmed her and once again her mind filled with thoughts of New Years, white dresses, purification, Carnival, bathing suits, and coconut milk.

It was many hours later that she awoke again, her eyes feeling less heavy this time, her body ached from sleeping on such a harsh unyielding surface. Her spine must have been out of joint for far too long, it would be difficult to stand with such joint pain. Still, she rose and groaned as her back muscles rebelled against their imprisonment. Move! They said to her, move and stretch! We demand release! Blasted muscles can wait, she thought. She still heard Mano Chao playing in the background, and she distinctly heard, Denia. In Arabic this time, whereas before it was Portuguese. She hummed along and it was then that she saw something familiar. Her hand went to her back as she stood up, her face strained and she let out of a grunt, and a few more groans. She heard a voice then, “Hey, she’s back! Welcome back to the world of the living, you had me scared.” She recognized the Robot from before, before the halo system activated, before the burning sensation in her throat, before she scrambled with that stupid mask that didn’t fit right, and before she scrambled to the door only to have it shut tight and lock. Before she lost consciousness and said her farewells to the world.

She nodded and blinked, as she stretched her arms up high finally taking in her surroundings in full. They were in a small room with stone concrete for walls, and a floor where her jacket was bunched together to form a pillow. There was a large circle of light against the wall to her right, where a dull blue door hit against the stark grey concrete with bits missing, places were exposing pipes, others were about a foot length long and half a foot deep. She saw such decay and desolation at that wall, her face went blank and a familiar apathy hit her. Then she looked back at the robotic girl that had saved her life. “ You saved my life, I…” she said in a worried voice, a scared voice even with strong hints of confusion. “That’s right, are you alright?” Girl Zero said in a cherry upbeat voice that sounded almost childlike. She blinked look down at herself. Her clothes seemed intact, and nothing was undone or out of place. She rubbed her forehead and nodded. “Yes, I’m.. I’m fine. I… thank you. What’s your name..? Where are we?” she said that with bit more intensity than she wanted. She was scared, that was evident, but she wanted to sound grateful.

“My name’s Kaylee. Nice to meet you, we’re um… in a maintenance room above ground level. An auxiliary recycling chamber in the Blue zone near a large thermal reactor. My maps show we’re in Section 410b in Delta quarter. I hope that helps. And there’s no need to thank me, I am glad you are alright.” Kaylee strode over from her perch near the fan exit, as the cleaning lady was putting her jacket on again. Her nametag was missing and she sighed. It would be a pain to get back to work, but she was alive. She eyed Kaylee and though she was half her height, there was still an apprehension. Kaylee did not seem to notice, or did not care, one or the other. “Oh, I have no idea where that is,” she giggled then realizing her predicament. Kaylee extended her hand and the cleaning lady shook it uneasily. Perhaps, the toxins were still affecting her balance. The cleaning lady kneeled down and smiled and gave Kaylee a big hug upon seeing such a sweet and happy looking girlish face on top of all the mechanics.

“So you know Mano Chao?” the cleaning lady said as they released their embrace. “Yep, I have all of their albums downloaded in my databanks. I can’t get enough of him, he’s so cute.” Kaylee giggled like a schoolgirl leaving the cleaning lady with a confused look on her face. “Yeah, he is cute. I saw him live in Rio De Janeiro a few years ago. Fell in love.” Kaylee nodded and looked about her. “Sorry for the dankness, real boring in here but… it was the only place I could hide, I was playing hide and seek with the big boys here, their fun and stuff, but they play rough. Too rough for a lil girl like me, ya know.” Kaylee was conversing easily, as if they were good friends or something. There was a familiarity to her tone that suggested she was being completely sincere, chatting it up in the midst of this situation seemed so out of place and confusing. Then all of a sudden, the tone got a tad more serious. “Look, um… I’m going to have to break the fan to busy out and climb up the wall. This will make the room real stuffy, real soon. So… your going to have to go before you get sunstroke or something, kay?” The cleaning lady nodded with a reply. “Yes, I will. And, I’m really ok.. Just confused, and… lost. Other than that, everything works. I will never forget you Kaylee and what you did for me.” Kaylee smiled and said, “if you want to thank me, my dear. Get into another profession, somewhere far FAR away from here. This place isn’t meant for nice ladies like you.” Girl-Zero said that with a nod and then leaped up to the fan. The cleaning lady watched and as the fan stopped spinning, she could see the girl robot climb out like a monkey. And then, that was that… there was nothing left to do but ask herself the zillion questions she had on her mind. Why didn’t she just leave her there… why did she wait for her to wake up, what was it about that robot that seemed almost human? She opened the door and strode down the hall wondering what the hell happened while she was out. She was alive, what did it matter? She shook her head and decided right then and there to get out… somehow.

2007-12-19T18:07:00.000-08:00

One of the most beautiful sounds in Sophia’s mind has to be her own breath. At least, at first it was. It became a precious thing to breathe in and out in a calm and peaceful manner. Unlike the last few moments, where her whole world spiraled out of control, she seemed to be dizzy with new possibilities. After all, she survived the last few moments right? And, her heart, bless it for not exploding entirely, beat like a light feather with the wind and the whole world beneath it. She looked to her left, as the lightheaded feeling washed over her every limb, and her eyes closed as the sensation overwhelmed her.

She couldn’t bare to stand, let alone feeling anything at all, as the man beside her had his own silence about him that hung like his head between his legs. In a moment, he’ll be embarrassed that he was seen that way in Sophia’s presence and hoped that no one else saw it. A small comfort was that some people were doing the same thing right now. Not that it helped him any, not now anyway. In a moment, Sophia will register that she is still on a plane, sitting down and unable to move because she can’t feel anything. Sophia breathed deeply restoring feeling to her lungs, heart, chest and stomach. Just then, she realizes that nature has been suspended due to the extreme physical pressure exerted on her body and just now, it was suddenly very apparent that the restored sensation in her legs and arms were a sign that they needed to be used, and quickly. Why couldn’t she retain water like men with a built in canteen? She looked to her middle aged man and found it was easy enough to climb over him. As long as he kept his head down. Though, the thought of being caught letting daily Mass out early while the plane suddenly took a nosedive didn’t appeal to her at all. There was little choice in the matter though, not now.
She looked about and everyone was coming down off of the high that the sympathetic nervous system gave the body after moments of extreme stress. She could go now and avoid a mass rush and so she unbuckled her seatbelt and shook her legs for a moment to make sure they worked. And then, as they regained feeling, in a chilling rush of sensation all the way down to her toes. Then she checked her companion and he was still in the quiet moment by himself coming to terms with what happened. She carefully brought her legs up and then a thought came over her, she said quietly to the man. "Hey, I gotta go. So, just stay exactly like you are right now." She then proceeded to climb over him and onto the walkway.

A moment later, she found herself walking toward the ladies room with a lot of concerned faces as she passed. She was scared, but at the same time, relieved. She lived, and this trip to the ladies room, would be the best in her life. Perhaps ever, and it reminded her, of all the times she risked her life willingly and come out with a bullet wound, or a cut, or sometimes with nothing at all to show for it on her body. There was a moment of real nostalgia there when she had her heart in her throat once more.

A few minutes later, she was back at her row finding her seat companion cleaning something off of his shoes. The smell of food was evident and Sophia did not have to put two together to come up with what it was. Sophia was lucky, she didn’t have daily Mass exit a little earlier than expected. Thank heavens for small favors. She stood tall and said, as if to dispel the nervousness that everyone felt. "Just think everyone, now we can all go home and pay the heating bill". And everyone chuckled that was coherent enough to listen. She heard a few replies, "Thanks, yes, just what I always wanted to do" from an elderly woman, and another voice said, "Yes," sarcastic groan to boot, "I certainly can. Oh joy." Came from a young woman sitting a few rows behind Sophia’s seat. And then she looked about, taking a gauge on how scared everyone was around her having a good grip on fear herself having led the life she did. A few were crying, women mostly with children beside them sobbing in their mother’s chests. Others were quietly staring into space as if having an out of body experience unlike any in their entire life. There were a few that, despite all their rigid maturity and social graces were giddy with laughter and chuckles as if venting their nervousness by laughing it away. Overall, people were taking it well, they survived after all right? Somehow, despite everyone’s latent fears about flying being that it’s unnatural for the body to be in the air this way they were taking the situation rather well. She had to wonder how the pilots were doing. In fact, she expected a general announcement by now about the situation and most importantly, what the hell just happened. This slightly concerned her.

Sophia looked about for a stewardess and found one at the tail of the plane in a daze. Sophia walked up carefully looking at the thin woman who had a dark blue dress and a white blouse underneath her dark blue matching jacket. Sophia was pretty sure that she was catching the stewardess by surprise and decided to say something beforehand. "Hey, are you alright?" Sophia said with a tone of compassion in her voice. The stewardess turning around revealing her tear stricken face. The stewardess said, "I’ve never been ... in a plane crash before... not that it crashed, it didn’t.. I’m alright, really. I’m fine. Was.. Was there something you needed?" Sophia just smiled knowing that she caught the stewardess in a weak moment and her natural composure was lost. "Oh, I just wondered if the pilots were ok. Um, we half expected an announcement soon. It would be nice for everyone if we could hear their voice." The stewardess nodded saying "Yes, your right. Um, just for safety’s sake could you return to your seat and remain there until you hear otherwise? Just, incase..." And Sophia nodded at the sincerity of that statement, as well as the logic. There was no sense being overly confident at the sudden good turn of events.

Sophia strode back to her seat finding the man, having cleaned up most of the remains of his dinner from his shoes and the floor and the airport garbage bag was full. Sophia did not want to elaborate at what could be in there, but she had her theories nonetheless. Not wanting to explore possibilities she smiled at him and said, "Hey, you ok?" And he said, "Yeah.. Yeah, I am now. I dare not take the Lord’s name in vain now, or ever again. I swear." He said with conviction. Sophia did not hear him say the Lord’s name in vain, but then again it got pretty loud there for awhile. "I agree there, entirely." Sophia agreed.

"Oh, I imagine you want to get back in, eh?" And he rose without waiting for her to respond and she backed up to give him room. She smiled at him, as if to appear warm and unburdened. Though, she was sure there was some nervousness coming through anyway. She did feel nervous, as if somehow, the distraught nature of what had happened finally caught up with her. She sat down and with a sinking feeling realized that she had nearly died once more, and unlike her earlier nostalgia, she caught herself in the pit of her stomach.

She blinked and her stomach felt like it sank several leagues into the earth. She felt her tears well up and she broke down into tears in her seat. She was happy that only her companion saw it, though that was enough to be embarrassing. He was quiet for a minute and then ruffled through his pockets bringing out some napkins. He laid them on her left leg and she picked them up quietly with a simple "Thank you." He smiled at her and said, "We can’t be nerves of steel all the time." And Sophia had a rebuttal, "But we can damn well sure try." He laughed at that with a nod. "That we can." Sophia knew, through her sobbing, that he was speaking from experience. She was happy he was here, even if he saw her cry like this. He knew what it was like. She wiped her eyes and blew her nose with the napkins and said, "Hey... um, you won’t tell anyone I... turned the sprinkler’s on?" And he shook his head with a nod, a knowing look. That said it all, "Thanks." Sophia said without waiting for a reply. Somehow, she knew deep down, he meant to keep her secret safe.

Sophia took a deep breath and said, "Hey, at least we have a real story for our folks eh? They’ll be amazed." And they both agreed there. The pilots came on the intercom then and said, "We’re alright folks, sorry for the delay. The equipment here has been acting funny. The systems are all perfectly normal now, however because of the mechanical failure we experienced, we’re going to land soon. We want everyone to sit in their seats until we come to a complete stop at the terminal. Again, we’re all grateful that we’ve pulled through that and rest assured we have everything well under control now." Sophia liked those words and she sat back relieved.

Road of barbed wire

2007-12-13T17:23:00.000-08:00

The golden watch... somehow things were pushed along by mere suggestions that Sophia couldn't push away from her mind, even if the murmurings, the slight rumblings, the whispers below the surface of the skin... heard as plain as day by one ear resting against a pillow. The watch was a ghost, more than the lump of gold that weighted her left pocket noticeably. Her hand was always on it if she had to use the Little Girl's Room lest someone reach their hand in, searching for Saint Mary's Cathedral and finding a valuable watch instead. Her seat on this Boeing 747 was in coach, because for some reason the notion of... being noticed seemed to be dangerous.

Against the window seat, she sat looking out into the sky seeing a white ocean of clouds. Is this what heaven is like? The cream commercials, and that innocently sinful angel made it appear that it was Heaven. And here she was, a trespasser upon the kingdom of God. Sophia had to smile at that. She lived and yet she saw where the angels ate their bagels. "A little taste of Heaven" Making this long trip seem bearable for the most part. Angels and clouds, and looking at the clouds, Sophia had to wonder where the angels were. Scared by the roaring jet engines most likely. The sun was brightly shining on the clouds leaving the ground below them very dark indeed. But, oddly enough, Sophia did not think about the ground at that point because she could not see it. At the other end of the coin, as it were, things were just the same as they were below. One could not think outside the box and wonder about the nature of the unknown.

Sophia was nearly rocked out of her seat as the plane jerked to the left without warning. Her heart beats increased a few hundred percent. What the hell just--- And then everyone, in their panic as stewardesses fell onto the floor and other frightened and terrified passengers, was broken out of their daydream shells and slammed full-throttle back into their comfortable seatlike coffins with a wailing scream. The scream, was due to the sinking feeling in their chests, as the plane lost atltitude and the pressure of gravity caught up with every object that was not securly nailed down. If Sophia had been bleeding right now, she may have died from blood loss the way her heart was pumping blood through her system. Though, she was in good health, the realities of a heart attack became all too real for her. She had never heard it beating so loudly before and, while there was no sharp pain in her chest, she found it difficult to breathe because her lungs were feeling the intense strain upon her center of gravity.

Sophia's mind raced as fast as her heart and her hands were firmly fastened onto the armrests as well. Unsure of the procedures that she refused to look at earlier, she was tight against her seat pretty sure that any rollercoaster ride was preferable to this experience. If she survived, she made a promise to visit all of them and test drive them for the creators of any new ones as a new hobby. The man beside her put his head betwene his legs and his hands behind his head. Though, all she heard was a scream, made by everyone all at once. It was not just the sinking feeling and the weight that sundered the heart and lungs, it was the sound... the sound of air colliding with the metal structure surrounding the plane. An elevating roar that increased in intensity with every passing second. And, the jet engines made their own noise that drowned out everything else. The thing that got Sophia, and anyone else cognizant enough to listen, was that the plane had a scream all it's own. Sophia just could not stand it being next to the window seat and she put her fingers in her ears then to block out the noise that felt like it was tearing her eardrum apart. Luckily, she did not feel any blood in her ears and that made her heart beat a little slower.

"What the hell was--" and the voice was cut off. A male voice, middle aged that was sitting beside Sophia, to her left wearing a blue business like shirt and dress slacks complimented by leather shoes that reflected the light. He had a mushtash and a face with very defined wrinkles down his cheeks and on his forehead. No doubt years of being a bonafide tyranical CEO. He was grasping the arm rests tightly as the plane did not level out. Earlier on, they spoke about the business world and how much it resembled a jungle all it's own. He was doing most of the talking, and Sophia smiled at all the right moments. She originally asked why he wasn't in first class and he said, "Because, most of the bloodthirsty hounds are up there and they'll die first if the plane crashes." Sophia could agree with that.

Now, the plane was crashing, wasn't it? It was dropping out of the sky, like a stone, right? And, at this moment, unlike any other moment... every human being on the plane readily agree that it was happening to them. A good three hundred passengers and crew aboard all unanimously agreed that their lives, however wonderful or terrible they might have been, was coming to terrifying end. Sophia's life, with her job and a possible friendship with the wicked witch Jing-Ye, all seemed to be coming to a close. Sophia's curtain was set, and there was little she could do. At that moment, with her fingers in her ears, the man beside her probably seeing his life pass in front of his eyes and he says, "I've done it all, Jack. Last call" over and over again.

She saw the image of the boy's face. Just his face, with those desperate eyes of his innocent of the real dangers surrounding him, and only aware of the need to survive and a plea, however silent, giving the world a chance to help. But, no one helped him and Sophia saw the bullet enter the mud beside him stirring up the surrounding rainwater and mixed in dirt. She kept seeing the bullet enter the mud over and over as the image shifted, as if to emphasize the importance of that specific part of the memory. But Sophia could just see the replaying movie in her head, over and over again not making sense of it. The whole thing seemed to innane and random. Sophia also found, as she looked to her left seeing the middle aged man lose his lunch on his shoes, that it wouldn't shake easily. It was then that she noticed everyone was in this position that the middle aged man was in, but her. And she was a seasoned flyer. There were times when she walked around her office imaging herself in that position deciding what to wear if that were to ever occur to her.

Here she was, wearing dirty blue jeans and a tight t-shirt making her feminen features apparent along with the nylon connected to cotten fabric that supported them in a shape one could drink out of. The t-shirt was a baby blue colour, and it had no smudges or any dirt on it, so far. Except for a dust bunny that just connected to the middle of her back that was kicked up from the floor.

She kept seeing the boys face and the image shift to the bullet that entered the mud. The spray pattern of the mud would enter the boys eyes and cause his face to turn from it as his right hand attempted to wipe the mud away. Though, it may sting if it entered his eyes directly, like raindrops with shampoo in them, and not the baby Shampoo either! But what was it! What was it trying to say! Damnit, if only she could think straight, this would make sense and there would be that small comfort that she pondered and solved another mystery before her life came to an end. This mystery had to be solved before it was all over, before her heart gave out, before the fire consumed her flesh and bones that erupted from the crash of the plane, before she died as a result of any wounds she might have, before she suffocated because she couldn't breathe due to the rushing of gravity to meet the earth... before... she could grasp... her watch! Her WATCH!

She took one of her fingers out of her ears, as the horrible wailing of the plane drove every thought from her mind, though her fingers weren't doing much good and only provided a psychological comfort at the time. She tried to grasp into her pocket afraid that it might have fallen out when the plane jerked violently to the left. Her pants were tight, and really there was little reason to worry about this, but she did anyway because a large part of her cared for the watch very much. Like it was the most dearest thing to her. She had to dig her hand into the pant pocket on her left side. She had already tried her right side and nothing appeared to be there. Panic made her go for her other pocket and with a furious fevor she dug her hand into her pocket. Resisting the urge to scream herself, resisting the paint of the cotten jeans scraping away her skin or the hair that grew on the top of her fingers between each knuckle. She was sure there was skin scraped away by now, and in some places, perhaps blood? There was no time for that now, she had to have her hand on the watch. It was as if, everything depended on it. How silly, the plane, 300 passengers, all depending on a watch?

Sophia, had her hand on it and though the lights of the plane went off, the masks did not come down yet though no one was in a position to make them fall down at all. And so, oxygen was a rare commodity and, as a result, the plane's passengers were in more of a state of panic. Sophia's hand clutched the watch, sending a calming effect over her despite the physical stress she was under. It reminded her of how pure oxygen made everyone doscile during a crisis like this, no wait, during a tragedy? Who can really say...

The image of the boy and the bullet entering the mud became clearer to her now. As the bullet was not directly entering the boy yet. It was beside him, half a foot or so and, merely served to frighten the boy. This was one possibility, cruel as it may seem. Another possibility was that it was a warning shot and that he had better move. But move where? The whole area was a warzone and the soldier's didn't give many people a chance as they tried to escape the carnage. It was inevitable that someone got... left behind. Sophia thought more and then realized, maybe whoever fired had missed. Sophia thought this was too random to be of any use to her, but there was the possibility that in all the chaos someone with too much adrenaline couldn't aim quite right. Then a revelation came to her, perhaps the bullets were meant for her, and the boy took them instead? This seemed a more realistic possibility, as the boy had done nothing, was too young to do anything harmful to anyone. Sophia was the tainted adult there, the target, the journalist who ignored every warning that the army was moving in to secure the rebels.

Sophia realized this then, the image then shifted back to the boys face. His face was resolve and resolute certainty. An odd look for a boy his age, a baby even. But, it was as if all the experience a man could ever have was put on that boy's face. Sophia got lucky, and a baby took the blows that were meant for her. She felt ashamed that a baby saved her life that day and wished it could be the otherway around. But the image faded from her mind leaving her with a guilty feeling of... "It should have been me." But, right then, the roaring jet engine was cooling down and becoming less angry and agitated.

Everyone could hear that the rushing air became less and less with each passing second. Some could hear their prayers being answered as the plane leveled out... finally. And began to be very smooth after a few minutes of turbulance that everyone was very happy they felt. Though, it was likely this airline lost, 300 customers who'll never fly again. But, hey... they may be alive and that was a benefit on the annual report. At that point, the man beside Sophia, still with his head between his legs calmly restated the Lord's prayer as the roaring of the engines died down. Sophia smiled that his heart had survived the ordeal. She tried to take her hand off of the watch, only to find that it hurt at certain points. As she tried to take her hand out of her jeans pocket, there was a slight wetness that may be due to sweat. Though, when Sophia looked, her eyes were... full of shock. There was a red spot that lost it's circumfrance. Blood.... she had been bleeding and might have lost a pint or two. She felt light headed and weak all over her body as she slowly removed her hand from the watch. Though, she felt a throbbing in her hand, there was little resistance taking her hand out of her pocket.

When she did, she heard cheers and shouts of joys from all sides. A lot of people were praising god, or Martha Stewart, which ever way the bread and wine went down. She wasn't cheering though, she was frightened by the whiteness of her hand. The cold clammy feel of it and how she couldn't really use it for very much other than look at it. Perhaps, she cut off circulation because of the tight jean pockets and if she cut herself, all of it came rushing out. Seemed workable at least. But, where did it go? Sophia shook her head and took a deep breath.

She closed her eyes sitting back in the seat and rubbed her right hand on the middle aged man's back. Then she held her left hand, and said. "Hey there, your still alive ya know. You all right down there?" He didn't say much for a minute or two, and then turning his head and said, "It's... wonderful... I couldn't be happier. I'M FUCKING ALIVE!" Sophia smiled hiding her left hand between her legs.

The road of broken barbed wire

2007-12-02T13:56:00.000-08:00

Sophia looked out of the window of the cab heading toward the Vancouver International Airport and she smiled. She had a bag over her shoulder, black polyester with many small pockets riddling the outer layers and the inner layers, that promised many object hidden throughout. She kept this close because there were too many emergency supplies hidden within it. She had one suitcase in the back of the cab in the trunk with a lot more clothes, notebooks, tapes, digital cameras, and gear suited for terrible weather.

Sophia came prepared, because she knew of the absolutely terrible working conditions she may be forced to endure. There was little room for forgetting to pack extra tampoons these days, and she was someone that hated to run out of anything. She found herself in front of the Airport departures entrance and taking out her wallet from her pants pocket she paid the cab driver, and giving him a tip she left the cab taking her bag with her and her wallet back in her pants pocket. She thanked the driver and he got out of the car. She was already at the trunk taking her bag out of the back when he reached her. She flashed him a smile when he offered to help, she said "That's alright, I got it, thanks anyway." He saw her hoist out her suitcase with ease and it was clear she was used to doing this all the time. She handled it without the awkwardness most people do because they dread the travel over the air, and they tolerate it barely.

The cab driver, with a turban around his head, had taken enough people to the Airport and helped them with their bags to recognize a seasoned traveller from a family of four going for their vacation to Florida. "Where are you headed?" he asked her and she said, "Austria. Vienna for the first little while, then we will see where my journey takes me. I never truly know where I'm headed. Frightening isn't it?" Sophia said with a chuckle. He chuckled back and said, "Well good luck, miss. Heck of a thought though, you'll get lost if you don't know where your going to end up. But hey, it's your trip right?" He said as he went back into his taxi's driver side.

Sophia walked into the Departures gate saying to herself. "Yes, its my trip alright. And just where is Sophia going?" For now she was going to visit Andre and, despite her having no recollection of where she got the watch, and the possibility of no one else having any idea either. She was sure that this lead, however thin it was, was her best hope. And, besides, the watch had such a part to play in this as she carried it in her breast pocket of her button up blouse. It kept nagging at her, in her head, to keep going and find the truth. To Sophia, it was just like the empty void of the unknown that could never be satisfied. But there was a more pressing broader reason that kept her walking toward the departure gate. If she didn't do this, she would regret it for the rest of her life, for the most part she did not need anymore regret. There were too many boxes in her closet to remind her of regrets and lives thrown away for the hope of something safer, easier and, above all, that allowed her to feel a lot less.

Sophia could not go through life doing that, not anymore. Not after the image of that boy came to the surface once more. She saw his eyes in her mind's eye, imagined eye to imagined eye, she made a promise to see it through. And, if it became completely hopeless? She could go back to her job in Vancouver, to that office, and perhaps become good friends with Jin-Ye. It was always there, as a safety net, perhaps because deep down she prepared for every eventuality. Though, she did not want to fall back on it if the road became bumpy. She would fall back on it, if the road became intoleratingly life threatening. Having the jobs she took before, that was a tall order to fill.

Sophia realized, on the phone with Andre, that it was going to be a meeting to discuss the watch and it's origins. But, Sophia knew that he wanted it for his collection and he may be willing to pay extreme sums for it, at least at first. Perhaps show her the best night of her life? Sophia shook that from her mind. She was not a slut, there were standards, even to journalism. Sophia wouldn't let her watch go anyway. They were connected until the watch decided it was time to leave her. When that occured, she would let it go without so much as a tear, because it's journey no longer included her. It was a hint of simple truth, the watch had a mind of it's own and it's destiny never lay with any single person for an indefinite amount of time. She was happy that it choose her for this leg of it's journey, that she had a place in its drama.

It would be a long trip over the North Atlantic towards Europe.

The Golden Watch

2007-11-22T15:12:00.000-08:00

A short woman, through by no means looked down upon, with black hair and a brown tan to her skin that reminded people of flower pettles and other exotic things, this was cast off as soon as she spoke however, was walking toward Sophia. At the building of Scotiabank, there was always someone to speak to, and always something that held in it a sense of urgency. Sophia had an urgent feeling, just a sensation, all through her day to investigate and illuminate the mystery about her golden watch. Though, to do this she would need time off of her job, resources to support her during the process and a plan of action to get the investigation off to a good start.

Sophia smiled as she saw this short woman, but there was an air of confidence that made up for her lack of stature. No doubt it was the lack of stature in the first place, all Five feet of it, that made her someone that had to shout to be heard in amongst all the tall guys in the building. She put her foot down, made a voice, and anyone in her way better know how to run. And just from looking at her, the thin body, the cute way the straight shoulder length hair curling at the end made her face resemble Halle Berry, that she'd be a predator, a jacket laying in wait, waiting for the perfect pristine moment to pounce. Sophia had measured her conversation beforehand for this meeting knowing it would be difficult to pursue her investigation otherwise. After all, this small woman controlled all of the scheduling, emergency shifts, over time and most importantly, it was her word against anyone else if mistakes were made. This was the part this small cute woman enjoyed the most.

"Hello, Jin-Ye. Could we talk for a moment?" Sophia said as Jin-Ye walked up carrying a file under her left arm. Her suit was a dark grey with a red button up blouse and dark dress pants with matching shoes and earrings. Sophia loved her sense of style. Jin-Ye, who had spotted Sophia from all the way down the hallway minutes before, nodded with a cute smile. "Sure we can, I just have a minute though." Sophia new that the time limit was a method of keeping everyone's responses quick and to the point. There was no nonesense with Jin-Ye. "Of course, I won't take much of your time. I know I have vacation time that I haven't used since last year. I'll be needing to use it now while there are people available to cover for me."

Sophia said this knowing that there were individuals able to accomplish tasks that she would normally do, not allowing anything to fall behind, too much. Jin-Ye had a book where she kept records of all this, and everyone knew that book was both gold and radioactive waste. To Sophia, it was gold, for the moment anyway. "There are others that are capable, yes. And, there are others who are looking for vacations as well, have you missed any days recently, Sophia?"

Sophia shook her head at this, and replied, "Not one day all year. Even when I had that nasty flu a few weeks back. I'm pretty sure that I've three weeks since my last vacation last year, right around this time I think." Sophia nodded remembering that this was true. Jin-Ye's records will confirm this as well. The most important thing, in negotiating this with her boss and especially with Jin-Ye is that the truth is backed up by the experience that tells the truth. Sophia and Jin-Ye both know, the reason Jin-Ye continues the Human Resources Manager position is that every person that proves they deserve what they can get, definitely get it. The added vagueness that what is gotten isn't necessarily good or bad makes these informal meetings difficult even if the information is there to prove one's worth.

"Yes, right around this time, and there's a lot of others that have waited for awhile for vacations." Jin-Ye stated. Sophia replied, "Yes, I know. And I wouldn't be asking if I knew what your answer would be. I'm darn sure that I've been putting in my hours, in overtime, to get projects completed over the last two months because we've been trying to get the Nakuso Deal finalized." Jin-Ye nodded, because she couldn't deny that claim at all, no one could and Sophia only used it for that reason. "Yes, I realize you've put in quite a bit of extra time here to get the deal completed. But, Sandra has come to me asking for Vacation time and Aldus asked for 2 weeks just yesterday. It's as if they've all taken after you and go for Vacation at the same time. Obviously I can't have that. Aldus has been working hard with the same amount of work everyone else has, Sandra too. And since if they all went on Vacation now, the paper would back up and we'd all have to put in extra hours just to stay on top of it."

Sophia knew that this was likely true, but Jin-Ye could just be dangling an invisible carrot in front of her. As well, there was an implied need in Jin-Ye's words to hire more people to handle it when others go on Vacation. This also meant, deep inside the words, that new hires would possibly need to fill positions of... recent terminations. However, Sophia knew that was just Jin-Ye complaining if it ever came to that, they couldn't fire her for taking a well-deserved Vacation. "Yes, but unlike them, I'm not taking time off as frequently. In fact, your records are spotless when it comes to me. But, ya know? I think a few new faces around here might be a good thing. Just keep them away from my office" Jin-Ye well knew how spotless Sophia's records were and chuckled at Sophia's little joke saying "Have you spoken to Jeffrey? I'm quite sure you deserve a few weeks Sophia, and I'll make sure to hang a little sign on your door saying, 'Vacancy' and give them a full tour of your spreadsheets." Sophia, then realized what Jin-Ye was doing the whole time. She was just putting something in front of Sophia's face to see how she'd react. "Yes, I have, and he said I deserved it. Oh, by the way, my spreadsheets are protected with passwords in ancient Hebrew so good luck" Jin-Ye smiled and nodded. "Yes, I expected that much, so I'm going to hire a Rabbi to come in. With any luck, we'll have it broken in a few days." Jin-Ye chuckled and said with a smile"Alright. I'll have a look at my records and get back to you, Sophia. How long do you plan to be on vacation and when do you expect to be back?" Sophia responded, "Hot darn, well I'll make sure to change it before I go then. To Finnish, maybe Icelandic... anyway, I plan to be gone for 2 and a half weeks while I go to Austria. I plan to be back on the 6th." Jin-Ye smiled and nodded once more. "That's fine. Sophia darlin' I'll only say this just because we've known each other for quite awhile now... why is it you take my crap? Everyone knows your the next in line for Vacation, and yet you walk up to me like it solely depends one me."

After a moment of silence between them, Sophia said, "Um.... thanks.. I suppose you're an intimidating person, Jin-Ye. It's like a huge bull dog walks five feet in front of you to clear away the specks of dust before you enter a room." Jin-Ye looking puzzled for a moment sighed. "Well, I guess my daughter's right. I'm a callous wretched bitch." Sophia was thoroughly confused now, usually Jin-Ye wore it like a staple around the office because of the men that acted like dinosaurs, who were also two or three feet taller than she was. And here Jin-Ye was regretting it? It's amazing what kids can do to a person. "Hardly, Jin-Ye. And, anyway, if you come on a little strong, thats only because of the people around here. Most of them we're born in the stone age, and spurns the day woman work into the office." Jin-Ye smiled a little with a shrug. "Yes, you have a point there. Hey, Sophia... I'll keep your office door locked this time and I'll make sure to hold onto the key myself. I remember what happened when I left it with Cornelius. I hope you enjoy yourself." Sophia smiled, at this rare and wonderful moment when the ice witch melted and proved to be a human being after all.

Deep down, Sophia knew that things were moving along well, and something inside her jarred her little positive streak. Something small, like a bug bite, or an ugly face in the midst of a day dream, kept nagging at her that it was all too easy. Though, with every senseless negative thought, she put it out of her mind as soon as it came determined to see it through to the end. As if the watch was strongly in her mind because it was mysterious. The urge to solve it's riddle, the unspoken unwritten truth hidden beneath the gold and the pearly white, was strong and that inquisitive part of her mind nagged at her.

She saw Jeffrey an hour later and he said to her with one foot leaning against the cubical which was adjacent to her desk. She turned to face him, looking up from her computer screen where an excel spreadsheet was all that was on it. Lots of numbers and decimals. Sophia made a point of pinching between her eyes just below the forehead. Jeffrey noticed but did not seem phased, lord knows he has done that enough times in the last week. He said, "Your good to go Sophia, and just remember, Justin and Andrea can do the accounts but you've got the extra after they're through to catch up on. But, knowing you, you'll get it done in a heartbeat." Jeffrey hesitating for a second or two, catching more of Sophia's attention, and he could see her mind snapping to full attention. His face was bothered as if not quite sure how to explain something, not a look he often got.

"What's that look on your face Jeff?" Sophia said with a little hint of concern on her face. "Well, it's hard to explain. Like, I'll never see you again. Bah, it's stupid forget I mentioned it. Have a good Vacation Sophia." Jeff said just waving off his doubt that was inside his words. Sophia caught onto it smiling she rose from her chair and gave him a small friendly hug. "You silly goose, I'll see you again. It's not like the city's going to be dust when I get back. Sheesh. And thanks. I hope I find what I'm looking for." Jeffrey smiled a little at her hug and then backed from the embrace, as not too look too familiar with her at work, he said to her "Looking for what? But whatever it is I hope you find it too." Sophia said, "Thanks Jeff, but I'm not too sure what it is. Sometimes you don't know, it figures itself out along the way. When I get back I'll tell ya all about it." Sophia said with a little grin. Jeff replies "I can't wait to read it in Time. Have a good trip." And with that he turned and went to his office. Sophia finding no reason to stay further that day, packed up her things and left the office stopping to say goodbye to a few people. Everyone except for Jeff were acquaintesances.

Sophia left the office thinking over her trip to see Andre. An eccentric autrian collector, or so she gathered anyway. It was always dicey dealing with these people because they had some secret agenda all their own most of the time, especially when something rare and exotic is up for grabs by some naive city girl that can't see their way around a hedgemaze. Sophia had to calm her arrogence from making her feel too confident. It was bad enough that it sounded like a challenge when it was really a threat. And worse that it's the truth. Sophia was not into being drugged, tricked or coersed out of her watch. She waited for the bus playing out a lot of possibilities in her head. As if worrying for what may happen, however through this she has an idea, at least a clue, as to what may occur when they meet. Sophia likes to have her bases, at every turn, examined before an important meeting with someone who, by all accounts, is definitely smarter than most of the population as a whole.

Sophia was worried for another reason entirely. The lack of information that she had about Andre made her quesy and there were always people that wanted her little watch. The one in her pocket where she held it all the time, from now on. For some reason, she equated that the watch gave her guidance, if not a comforting feeling of security. And, lately, she heard the voice in her head, that she equated with the watch say, "Be ware of Andre." As if out of the blue it seemed like a good idea. Sophia couldn't shake it, and she wasn't being paranoid, the thought just came to her. She went home and sighed, there was no time to do automatic things in her life anymore. Sophia, in her day full of realizations, came to one more. She became too comfortable with the word "Automatic." Pulling out the box and taking the bits and pieces of her previous life had awakened a spirit, a presence in her soul, a place of infinite questions and a sinking feeling of being all out of answers. For Sophia, the feeling came with a bitter reminder, of all the stories she covered and cried about, for all the victims that walked away, and all those that don't walk now. She remembers why she went into journalism in the first place. It was partly because of the questions in her head but it was also because the stories were about suffering, and how much she tried to ease it by letting the world know.

What she did not let anyone know, was how much it weighed down on her fragile little heart. How much it almost crushed it, squished it and broke it. She still saw faces in her head, the desperate cry for help without a sound. Sophia's camera captured the hearts, captured the ruptures, the stabs and the hundred little knives that stuck in her soul, putting them on the front of Time Magazine, and Macleans. There were moments, tiny moments, infintescimal moments that seemed an eternity for her. The turn of a head, a sudden tear, the dozen little truths that are found in the flash of the moment that made her love her profession. Sophia was not searching to heal her broken heart, not this time, not ever again.

It was that Sophia had gone the distance and knew what it felt like to have her heart strings plucked out, it made her angry, and she used it to continue her job. After awhile, the reality of what she was doing hit her, and she nearly fell straight over with it. The sincerity of her emotions got to her, even if she lied to everyone else, and they sank deep into her bones. And the only feeling worse than that, was the image of that terrible man's eyes looking down at her. Like any negative feeling, any feeling of oppression, she fought to defeat it or it would defeat her. She had done both and succumbed to the former once already.

Sophia thought about this on the bus on the way back home. She realizes, deep down, that she can't bring the watch with her. And realizing this, perhaps Andre might not believe a picture or two, but she can't risk losing it. Or can she? There was a certain guidance that the watch had over her, and deep down she realizes that she might need it as well. As if by some premonition. It was difficult to contend with sound logic, but then a thought came to her. She can email the pictures ahead of time and bring the watch, with the note that it never leave her sight. In fact, she would wear a chain to connect it to her clothes in some discreet way. She had to make sure that if the watch was snatched, her skirt or dress wouldn't go along with it! And then she thought, jeans and normal clothes. There would be no sophistication at all, though only a woman's touch where a man may not necessarily look. She needed to wear protection after all, and not "That" kind of protection. She had terrible boyfriends before, and there was no room left in her psyche for anymore.

Sophia, walking home, felt confident and full of energy that her plans were working out. Of course, Jeff would let her have time off with all the hard work she has been putting in. Every step sprung from the ground, as if she could dance on the very air itself, dance like a ballerina and... fly like a bird. She shook her head, as if by instinct, to remind herself that her plans needed a clear head and a clear focus on the facts. Sophia could barely help it though, she was so happy there was a place to fly too, a goal to achieve, and a life beyond the desperate hooks penetrating her knees, her eyes and her chest keeping her locked down, chained like a slave to the inevitability of success. For years, Sophia convinced herself that it was something she could live with, a chance she knew many others would be very happy to get. She understood the difficulty in landing a position with this company, and staying there was another thing altogether. Especially with the expectations of advanced education and the tough hide that everyone needed to have. Just for the sake of survival, and handling the politics that came in any group of human beings, in the jungle of human interaction where every event could be a strike against you, or a blessing in disguise.

It was that simple, either you defended yourself or you were a piece of beaten meat to be given to the wolves. That spoke volumes when you knew that Jeff was her only real friend in that place. Everyone else had knives thrown into their words, and perhaps, with her leaving her job would be up for grabs. Some fools might even try to and vie for it. Sophia, however, was not considering that however... she beat people out of her office before and, if she had to do it again, she would make an example of whatever idiot managed to get in there. Behind her cute and harmless smile, meant to disarm anyone she spoke with, there was a raging and conniving wild animal ready to pounce at command.

Sophia's steps, as light as they were, though she was not usually light on her feet at all especially not with high heels on. Sophia, despite her earlier reluctance, felt like a great weight had been lifted from her shoulders. The only problem was, that there was little stability in a life like this, in fact to be perfectly honest folks, there was none. Every job, every encounter, brought you closer to the truth. But there were so many hurdles, so many broken hearts, and in the end, if you found the pieces of your own heart and put them together. The results might be more than you can take all at once.

Sophia's mind, in all her happiness, played with the idea of journalism as a break from the jungle of words she fought everyday. A flash of an image came into her mind, as if the shutter of her mind came clearly and distinctly into focus for the second time that day. A sudden coldness ran over her body, a chill of the ghost running over her unburied grave, foot steps leaving frozen imprints in the snow of her flesh. It sent shudders through her, shakes to her limbs, and a broken jagged piece of glass in her heart. The glass moving to collide with her sensibilities, her empathetic soul, once buried like the boxes in her closet, came alive with a piece lodged right at it's core aggrivating it just enough to make itself known. An image made all of this perfectly clear to Sophia, the same image she couldn't shake from her mind, the one that strikes deep like a bullet.

Two eyes trembling, as the tears, in the world's smallest oceans, come right to the surface overflowing to the umph degree. The eye brows, and lashes twitching just enough to break any illusions that the fragile and senseless mind behind it had any logical connections to speak of. As the image pans outwards from the eyes, one sees the young and smooth brown skin of a boy's face with caked on mud covering his cheeks and forehead. His mouth open in a howl, Sophia hears because her mind shakes and convulses as it reverberates in her head, his little teeth with the two front teeth missing and the rest of them white as ever. Any mother would be proud to have their children's teeth that white. The child, staring right at the camera, shouting through the lens, into the objective? eyes of the journalist. The last cry for help, no one else was able to reach the little boy, sitting in a pool of muddy water having every sensibility thrown to the belly of the beast without a name. The darkest thing the human race has ever made, but is almost unaware of, like a dark specter looming, like the Grim Reaper itself, over ever soul and every pair of eyes on that battlefield. A lone little boy, caught in the chaos, the all-consuming fury taking every life and damning it to the loneliest deaths. The little boys face, forever etched just beyond the surface cried out that day to Sophia's stone cold heart and melted it. The dead all around it, as the bullets flew... one just by the boys foot as the photo was taken, the shutter flapped as the bullet caused the surrounding mud to splash into the boys eyes. In slow motion, Sophia watch the boy try to shield his eyes from the water, only to have the water enter his desperate plea insulting it with a dash of hopelessness.

The little boy, as the camera was dropped from sight dissapeared a moment later. A flash as Sophia remembers covering her head as the mud flew all around her, and the smell of smoke in her nostrils and the taste of smoke in her mouth. It was moments like this that she realized the uniformity of human nature when she literally became part of the earth. A few seconds later, a hand grabs her from her fetal position in the mud into two big arms carrying her over someone's shoulder. Where ever the boy was, a ball of smoke now lay, offering nothing left of the boy but the immortalized photo in her camera. If she ever got out of there alive... but she did.

But the photo, it was a thing to be destroyed, but it was reproduced many, many times in newspapers and magazines. They could all be burned and lost to time, and in a way, so could her mind where the picture lay as clear as when she first took it. As she stood in front of her door to her apartment, she breathed feeling very drained. The rememberance of the picture, for all it's complexity, took a lot to play out. No one knows how real a memory is until something like this comes up and strikes deep, plunging like the needles into her skin in the first aid camp. Or the piece of glass, forever lodged in her heart, that her mind insisted was real enough to hurt. The most real image, those two eyes indicating the broken mind that lay just beyond them.

Sophia turned the handle of her door, though she was completely unaware of her doing this, and stumbled into her apartment. She kept the picture in her head, unlike any other moment, she kept it there clear as day realizing what children do for her. They kept her vibrant, as if the suffering of them kept turning over the glass in her heart, and the simple truth's they unearth bring forth answers everyone else previously ignored.

For Sophia, the image in her head, reminded her of the absolute horror that can occur anywhere in the world. She kept it for another simplier reason because it reminded her of the real need for love in the world. The horror, the horror... she kept repeating as dark as Marlon Brando slithering down her chest couldn't be denied. So a strange co-existance was in Sophia, as both lived in the same room but refused to speak to each other. The silence reminded her of the many relationships she had and she chuckled. There was no way to make it either, love mingle with horror, and all's right with the world? Sophia never did believe that all was right with the world, not ever, she survived comfortably for a number of years now after quitting the journalism industry. Now, she put herself back on the edge of a pin and she did it, because of a golden watch? The watch made her do it? What a headline that would make! Sophia chuckled and regained a little of the vibrancy she had when she started walking home.

She did not laugh because it was a foolish thing to say, and indeed it was, but what is foolish is also true in some rare... obscure cases. The watch did make her do it. Sophia took note of what she had to do, and with the image of that boy's face in her head, she got to packing. Packing clothes, and the necessities was not the difficult thing, and the image only gave her strength to continue on. The pain was familiar, the sort of feeling that brings nostalgia, and even a comfortable sense of joy, in being back in a sand box that was visited daily back in one's formative years. The difficult part was, remembering all the moments, all the nerves that were burnt out like fuses throughout her career. Like a pair of wire cutters were taking her brain apart wire by wire... and the after picture leaves the cold chill running up your back and down your chest despite how many pillows and blankets piled up around.

Sophia sighed as her heart began to give. A child, about 8 years old, stands in sandles, shorts and a jacket with emblems on his jacket's shoulder marking him as a revolutionary in Afica. What is striking about this photo, was the look in the child's eyes, a menacing stare even though there is a bug on the boy's forehead that looks like a house fly. Though, complimenting the boy's hate filled eyes, is a loaded AK-47 held in both hands pointed at the photographer. Sophia still remembered the sound of that gun, distinct and in all her years, she never found a sound quite like it. She took her shirt off and looking just below her left breast, a scar was there. She had been shot by that kid and it was lucky to bounce off of her ribs and did not pierce her lung. She rubbed the war wound with a deep breath as the sound reverberated through her bones her lungs and out of her mouth leaving her light headed for a moment or two. She burst out crying then looking at a box of camera's.

The flood gates had finally opened in full, tearing at her bleeding heart like a vampire having it's meal. She could handle this, she was a tough girl, but the injury went far deeper than that. There are things that are lost, irrevocable damage that is done, and a cynicism that clouds and overtakes the mind. Most take this out on themselves, but Sophia poured it out into her work, as not to let it affect her the way it did others that turned to alcoholism and other less than desireable habits. Sophia's tears came out into her carpet, adding the first real tears she had for quite awhile. Living in the anesthetized life in the city, there was not room for real tears, or the empty feeling they left her with, she had to be on the ball without a sense of weakness. Moments passed and Sophia sniffled happy no one was around to see that little display. It was then that Sophia remembered the phone conversation with Andre's assistant.

"Yes, this is Andre's Collectibles, Sonya speaking. Who is it?" Answers a woman with a thick Austrian accent, but her english sounds natural enough. Does he get a lot of international customers?

"Hello, Sonya. My name's Sophia Newbrough and I was hoping to speak to Andre about a rare golden watch I have. I am aware that he has a vast knowledge of Antiques and I was hoping he could shed some light on it. I am doing a piece of Rare antiquities and this watch appears to have a long history which is perfect for the story I am doing." Sophia's voice was full of motivation and enthusiasm.

"Let me see here. I'm sorry Sophia. It seems we are not having a lot of openings for international clients at this time. If you wish you can send photo graphs of the watch via email. We are booked for the next three months, as there are a lot of partners that are interested in the collection we have. I'm sure you understand."

Sophia was not going to let it go that easily. "I realize that you are busy with such a rare collection and offers to purchase pieces of it must be difficult to arrange and schedule. I wouldn't be calling if I didn't know that the item I have is more than a few hundred years old. It's gold for the most part, but it's golden roman numerals are set on a pearl white backdrop, while the mechanism inside is gold itself." Sophia loved how she took the watch apart one day to examine the internal works. That everything was made of gold except the white pearl backdrop astonished her.

Sonya was quiet for a moment as if considering this. After a moment, she spoke, "I am certain that it's quite valuable the way you describe it. But you must realize, we do not have any time available to schedule an appointment, at this time." Sonya said again with some urgency in her voice.

Sophia bit back her impatience and took a breath. She had sent an email to Andre's website with detailed pictures of the watch and a full description of it. Likely, the receptionist had a copy of this in her database somewhere, or perhaps Andre was looking at it beside her right then and there. Sophia could never know.

"I realize that it's quite a luxury to be able to meet with him and I did send an emailed pictures along with a description of the watch to your website the other day. If you wish I can appear with the watch in person. I am able to travel internationally with no trouble, and I prefer to do it this way than to send it via Express Post. I promise that I will leave it with him for a few days while I am in Vienna. After which time, I am sure he will come to some conclusions about the watch that I have not been able to uncover yet." Sophia's voice was even and very confident.

Sonya paused once more and more typing was heard. Sonya then said, "Alright, on the condition that you leave it with us for a week. While you are here we can discuss options for insurance, unless you have it insured already." Sophia did have it insured already, and a few hundred thousand dollars did not replace the watch itself. Sophia could do a lot with that money, but she would not have the watch itself and the watch was the important thing. Too important to lose to anyone.

"Of course. I'm very happy that we've come to an arrangement Sonya. I realize that Andre is a busy man and I appreciate that he is willing to take the time to open this mystery more than I am able to." Sophia was relieved, but still the conditions worried her. She realized that it would take time to examine in order to determine it's origins. But something bothered her. If Andre already had the watch and let it go, didn't he already have a complete report of the watch and where it came from? And, an international collector was not one to let it go easily, if at all. Someone must have had to sell their liver or kidneys to even get a look at it. Still, it was her best lead and, a man with his background could give her quite a bit of information that she wouldn't have otherwise. When the conversation was done, Sophia kept in mind that her watch may be more valuable when someone knew what they had in their hands. Someone like Andre might see a few millions where Sophia may see only a few hundred thousand.

It was a risk she was willing to take. With this in mind, she packed away what camera's she would need and went to her calender. From there, it was a process of scheduling and preparation. One item of note that she did carry, from experience was one that she needed, was a small hand held taser that shot out 45,000 volts of electricity at some unlucky bastard. She had a permit, which was in her purse should she ever need to dig it out. And the taser itself, was strapped to her belt for quick use. When she put it on, she moved her hand down to it and then quickly, grabbed it and shot it forward without triggering the electronic cords. She did this a few times to get comfortable with where it was and how to move her arm to reach it in time.

She smiled at herself, she was taking every possible precaution. Except well, if someone wanted her dead. She would be. She countered this thought with the realization that, if someone wanted anyone dead, they would be. It's that kind of world and Sophia was happy she took that into account.

Clearing her head and sniffling the last of her sniffles. She took her bags to the door after checking if she left the stove on, or the garbage can full (She hated how that smelt). This time it was empty, and the last thing she checked was the dirty laundry hamper. It was not full either, though it had some dirty whites in it. There was nothing there that signified a real need to do a wash right now.

Sophia called for a cab and took her bags out front.

Golden Watch

2007-11-16T13:33:00.000-08:00

Snow capped ever green trees we're all that stood between the air and the earth frozen by the hand of winter. Where animals, deeply burrowed, sleep undisturbed away from the chill pricking them like needles against their fur. The valley, between two large mountains both of them on either side of the valley, kept the snow in, and also it kept the snow out. At times, the valley is covered in snow and others it is devoid of it entirely. The terrible part is that all that is about to change. A few hundred feet above the valley, above the tips of the mountaintops, a bright star stretched across the sky. As if as an omen, and wishes were made upon it, wishes for love and prosperity, hope and freedom. It is a sad thing to wish upon a star if it falls to earth, one never knows what it brings with it. The star streaked across the sky leaving a trail of fire in it's wake. From the trajectory, and the angle of descent, one would estimate that the valley was it's intended destination and make plans to venture there after the damage was done. Though, even if a few sateliates were destroyed on it's entry into the ozone layer, the star was not tracked beyond that. One will notice that services are lacking in some areas, and due to the randomness, no one will be able to blame anyone else.The shooting star, a composite of fire, screamed as it flew across the sky. The sound would wake the dead, as if it were a call to arms, filled with an unearthly howl no wolf could ever match bringing forth the frightened and the furious to witness, first hand, the final judgement sent from beyond the stars, beyond solar systems and the milky way. For a moment, even if all ears, awakened by the rumbling, trembling earth as if it cannot fathom what will happen. Shuddering at the mere thought of this, a living being crying out in mercy. It only receives a visitor, inside the star, a bright white light could be seen if one looked hard enough making everyone turn away. It made one feel of wrongness, of a terrible sense of pain and anguish inside their bellies. As it approached the valley, just above it, the star exploded, with a white light equaling the glory of an angel's wing, the inhabitants of the valley found the crystal clear darkness illuminated completely. The white light then converged at the center of the valley, bringing relief to many frightened and awestruck eyes. Then, a second later, as all of their eyes adjusted to the darkness that once again consumed the valley a red cloud of fire exploded in the sky. A boom could be heard for hundreds of miles getting people's attention, everyone's attention as local television and radio signals were knocked out due to the shockwave blasting the leaves from the branches of trees and flattening many untold miles of forest. The valley utterly covered with flames, smoke and a sulphuric smell that pervaded every single inch of the valley killing by asphiaxion if not the heat itself. The crackling started then, as the fire made contact with the remaining vegetation and began to eat away the life of the valley. After about an hour.. the fire subsided in the sky as if on command. Once again, it converges at the center of the valley, leaving an odd silence before a figure dropped from the sky into the darkened earth, a clear face of ashes, and dark clothes covering the figure entirely. Slacks, with a dress shirt, all covered in the same colour as his face. The only remarkable feature, beyond his dingy and dirty appearance, were two burning eyes. Two eyes that burned through and through, furnaces that made holes in the brain, then deeper, into the heart. And finally, into the very deepest reaches of the soul, the mark was left. The man fell, without a hint of fear of heights, of the sudden contact with the earth, with the rushing wind or the sinking feeling a normal person would feel in their chest.This man though, did not feel the sinking feeling, the thumping of the heart, or the exhilaration of his final moments. No, these were far from his final moments, far from the dying breaths of a life no one wanted to have. As he reached earth, past the cracked mountains and the destruction wrought just moments earlier, smoke raising from trees and bushes, and carcasses of many varieties of animals laid waste by the fire. The man struck earth with a soft pat as the ashes broke the fall, and the burnt wood made for a soft landing. He stood tall then, admist the offering that were made, where the skin of the earth howled at the injury, screaming for the injustice to be righted. Some amount of give with all that was taken. It was then that the figure, a man standing five foot five, smiled at the world he had entered. The man walked forward, as if to survey where he had landed, where just behind him a darkness followed him like a shadow that never left where it touched. As far as he was concerned, the valley was his. The earth howled a name, as if heard right on the wind from some unknown spot, and all who heard it shuddered and couldn't help but repeat it in their heads, even if they didn't understand language like that. They repeated it in their own language, in hushed whispers, as if it were a danger to even utter it. The name, off of the tongue, was simple to say and easy to remember. Throughout the valley, throughout the whole area for days, the single name, Malachi - the rotted rose had come.

At the same time, thousands of miles away, there was another mystery unfolding in the depths of a jungle just as unforgiving and bleak, that held it's own chaos in the guise of a predetermined order to the world. Deep in downtown Vancouver, a beautiful and charming young woman steps out of a large office building towering to the sky.

Sophia Newbrough, a cosmopolitan woman of about twenty-six, with beautiful cascading waves of brown hair just touching her shoulder and a fair complexion that did much to make her blonde highlights standout. She stood 5'8" and weighed a modest 139lbs. She was happy with herself, unimpressed with the emblazoned pictures she sees on TV. In the midst of a semi-busy downtown street, Sophia takes a good look at those around her. Finding a man in a three piece suit that screamed money, power and energy. His face was well shaven, angular and looks like it was cut from a piece of stone by a sculpter. She turns her eyes away as his eyes meet hers, a casual admittance that she's not interested. He passes her with a second look as he walks down the sidewalk. Whatever buddy. She waits until hes quite a ways down the street before checking behind her and then she sees a mother pushing a carriage along the sidewalk. A white and blue carriage with someone very special riding in it. She must be in her twenties, by the way she's built. Short brown hair as she makes her way towards Sophia. Sophia nods to herself and takes out a golden watch held by a chain of gold as well. A heavy watch, by virtue of it's materials, made her hands steady when she holds it in her hands. Though its small enough to rest in her palm, she holds it with both hands with care as if its too big for her to carry all at once. She slowly slides a latch out of its holding place and lifts the lid up revealing a white backdrop where golden hands pointed to the various appointments she will have tommorow. The hands, ticking by and by, reminding her of the inevitability of time and the pressure it always exerts whether we are aware of it or not. This is not what makes her look at the watch, because she never completely forgets this. She likes how she can open it and watch time pass, watch the beauty of the hands go around and around the in a circle. There was a sensation she felt, as if the watch makes it's presence known, but that was a silly thought. It's a watch, how can such a thing be? It's a bloody beautiful watch! Watches don't do much more than tick, and tock. Still, it was something she couldn't shake.

She felt a tug, she has to get home and make dinner. The tug was insistent because somewhere in her tummy, a growling was taking precedence in the list of priorities. Three blocks and then she could get home, put her professional self in the closet for another night and get ready to be domestic. All of this flooded her thoughts with images of dinner, the steps involved, a dozen little things she has to do in order for dinner to be tasty, and germ free. She then found a strange calming sensation running through her. As the mother with the carriage passed, Sophia blinks. Everything suddenly taking a back seat to reality. She must have looked like a very strange person staring unblinkingly into a watch. The mother didn't look at her though, not that she saw. Not paying attention, anything could have happened to her just then, she has a moment of fright. Sophia reasoned it was better to do this inside, instead of out in the world. Still, the calming sensation, ending the same moment the carriage wheels hit the stone sidewalk behind Sophia. Sophia put the watch away, as if the whole thing was just too wierd. She could feel a lingering good, pleasurable feeling that was taking her mind when she looked at the watch. The same moment all of her earthly worries seemed so important. On her way home, Sophia was playing back the event that just occured in her head. What exactly had happened anyway? She stared at a watch, felt impatiently tugged home by obligations her stomach was insisting were the most important thing right now, and then, her mind was awash with a calming feeling. A state where nothing could touch her. Only to be shaken back to reality, by a carriage and a mother that'll stay away from Sophia for as long as she draws breath. Sophia couldn't figure out what had made her feel so calm and placid. She couldn't come up with anything that could explain it. She'd taken no drugs, no alcohol, and whenever she was reminded of her needs and wants, it was insistent until it was taken care of. Her mind was very well trained that way. She never found anything that stood to be interfere with that so strongly before today.

She knew it had to be tied to the golden watch in some way. There was no other leads, nothing else that made any kind of sense that would lead to a possible cause. So, Sophia tried to remember where she first acquired her golden watch, and she had come up with a few possibilities. She may have picked it up at a jewerly store. Every so often, she fancied a piece and, if her check book could swallow it, she'd cough up the cash right then and there. She bought things like that sporadically. there was no ryhme or reason to it, she just felt a little better when she put on a new set of earrings, or a bracelet, or the ultimate repellant, a ring. She would have to go through her little collection and receipt pile in order for this possibility to be realised. And then, she'd walk into the store and said, "Hey, you remember this watch you sold me... oh, ages ago?" Sophia put that on the list of possibilities, very likely printed across it in her head. Then, she considered that it was an heirloom. But, she would remember this, as such things were common in her family since her mother Martha passed on, there were a lot of old and precious things that held value, sentimental if nothing else. She remembered, Martha's mirror was particularly old and had a bit of history attached to it as well. A lot of lords and ladies had the same mirror, or so it was said. Even a crazy guy, Maltosie, or something like that. Everyone agreed that it was better he was dead, and there was nothing better than a crazy tyrant deep in the earth. She wasn't quite sure why the name was equated with insanity, it was just something she picked up on instantly. Seemed like a likely possibility and she accepted it right then, without hesitation. But, what would a mirror have to do with her watch? She put it out of her mind and couldn't seem to remember where the watch originally came from. As far as heirloom's were concerned, she was drawing a blank. Other than the mirror, that her cousin Jodi had gotten. There were no other heirlooms to think of.

Sophia then drew a blank entirely, about any other possibilities. She hadn't gone on any trips to the jungle, or any other country in years. She remembered she had the watch for five years or so. Sophia couldn't place where exactly the watch entered her life. Most things, she could account for by memory, even the earrings she had on now. Pearls with a bit of silver cutting into her ear. She got them three years ago, in a jewerly shop in the mall when she lived in Kelowna. She worked as a receptionist but left because the boss made an advance that was deemed inappropriate. Sophia smiled because of the words she said as she walked out of the office. "These boots are made for walking, and that's what I'm going to do." And out of the office, out of the city, she walked and never looked back with anything more than a chuckle at the look on his dripping wet face and her empty cup she discarded into the waste paper basket without even checking if she got it in or not. The claps and smiles on the faces of everyone there as she slammed the door. Sophia treasured that memory like it was yesterday. She forgot his name, and didn't care that it slipped her mind. He was a guy, like thousands of guys, every guy, and therefore, wasn't important at all.

The watch seems a mystery. Sophia, as a matter of principle, made it her duty to root out mysteries and come to the hard truth about them despite what it might do to her. She was determined, as if something inside her made it intolerable for the world to be incohorent, inconsistent and nonsensical. There was something very investigative in her head, almost a need for things to fit in perfectly despite what might inconsistency is staring her in the face. There was a system, a reason, a method. It was up to her to find it. She would dig through her receipt pile tonight and make headway that way. Still, somewhere deep inside her soul, there was little stock in such a desperate search. Her mind, playing a different tune, did not make any such assumption and put it on the to do list for tonight. She got home, and going upstairs, she let out a big breath feeling the day fall from her skin as it had spent the day seeping into her pores. She finally realised, how she smelt. The day had taken it's toll finally, after all this time, she was tired. Still, she had to make dinner and, she started stripping off shreds of her suit. First she was going to have a shower and get rid of this stench that invaded her nose.

When she got to her bathroom, her clothes were mostly off already. And during the cleansing, during all of the relaxation, the thought of the clock stuck in her head when everything else went away. The well dressed young man that passed her on the street, the conversation she had earlier that day with her boss, a middle aged woman, about her sister Adrianna. And the way the coffee tasted in the morning, all of this went out of her. As if she was a snake shedding it's skin in the warm embrace of the water running off of her skin. She took another deep breath and let it out, putting her hand between her eyes blinking the soap out of them. She was tired, of that she had no doubt, but she was also hungry. She would take it easy tonight, but she would start on her search for where she found the watch. And if she didn't find anything, there was a good possibility it was an heirloom after all. She'd have to contact Adrianna and Joe. Her sister and brother, and just see what they remembered.

When she was dressed, she walked down in sweat pants and a tight t-shirt. After a few hours, she went to her receipts. After clearing the table, washing the dishes, all of this done on automatic. Her apartment, a pristine example of her clean and dutiful nature. There was a living room with a big black chair sitting at the back wall. The leather reflected the light from the sun, and the lamp that was attached to the ceiling by four screws. The arrogence of it as its big puffed out arm rest spanning the width of a foot or half a foot. The living room had a glass table as the centerpiece, with four brown wooden legs. There was a television beside the big arm chair resting on a small wooden stand, a bright lightly tanned brown resembling the centerpiece glass table. There was also a couch the same as the arm chair at the back of the room.

The living room lead to her bedroom through a narrow hall way, that also led to her bathroom, and a walk in closet. A lot of stuff was in her closet, coats, dresses, and dusty old boxes that never got opened. She dreaded what was in these boxes, and dreaded even more the dirt that would be made opening them up. And, besideswhich, they were behind the coats and dresses that hung on hangers, enough to resemble a tomb where forgotten lives were stored.
Sophia upon opening her walk in closet, breathing in the arciac smell of ancient history, tries to remember exactly where the receipts are. She keeps a lot of things within this little corner of her apartment, because she had no storage space anywhere else. She walked in, having no labels for any of the boxes, it was a real "adventure" to descend into the dust, documents and riddles that were unearthed.

She moved a dusty old fur coat back and with a squeak she winced as it was sometime since she heard the sever sound ring through her ears. Though, at that moment, she heard a small voice in her head, "left... look left." The voice sounded as though muffled, whispers from the back of a class, down the hall and from another room, from outside and down the street. Somewhere deep down, she was listening and unable to stop listening to it. She looked left, as if believing that any lead would be a good thing by now. Just to get this over with, and she saw a row of boxes, file boxes like a lawyer might have. She wasn't sure which one to pick up, so she started with the one furthest to the left and work her way right. The box she pulled out was full of something heavy, as if it was concealing a hundred bricks of stone. She had to stoop to pick it up and then stopped put the box down, saw on her heels and picked it up once more.

The second time her back didn't feel quite so bad, as if it was straining. She remembered someone telling her that it was better to lift heavy objects this way. Otherwise, her back could give out. She didn't hear the little voice anymore. Though, she didn't really think about it that much, it just seemed odd that it dissapeared as quickly as it came. She let it go then ready to search this box for any hint as to where the golden watch came from. It never crossed her mind why it was so important to search for any clues to its past, she just started looking.
The box made her steady on her feet, enough to make her focus entirely on balance. A steady few steps and she'd be in her bedroom to tear this box apart and see what was inside. She set the box down on the floor carefully and then, sitting cross legged, she opened it up. Tossing the box lid aside, she turned her face when she smelt the stale, old smell of papers keeping in a hundred little bugs, little critters that were better left deep in the earth. She worried more about what this may dig up. She had a difficult past, something that wasn't easy to share with anyone, even herself.

She turned to face the stacks of papers there. A few big file folder tied together with elastic bands and other smaller boxes inside of this one. She reached out to touch a box and drew her hands back as an array of images struck her.

A large man, with strange porous skin almost like he was made of clay, or mud. He has a built physic, his eyes, she'll never be able to peel the burning eyes from her mind, both of them staring down at her. Not in triumph, not in satisfaction or dominance. There was nothing to show any kind of victory here, it was a simple emotion, hate. The destruction evident, the chaos and fury, heart of a firestorm where everything was permanently changed. Every little island is burned, every little speck of dust is on fire, everything is created into something new. She lay there, on the pavement, in the shadow of him, seeing nothing but his eyes burning a hole into her soul. A moment later, she shook herself from this trance and opened the box out of pure defiance. Eager to view it's contents and, more importantly, to show that she wasn't afraid.

There was enough negativity already without submitting to it. She had a hatred of giving into her negative feelings and strove to be dominant of them, despite what they might be. To her, emotions stood as tests of our faith in our lives, our devotion to it's success. She realized though, that they also indicated things, disturbing things, and she would evaluate it all later. What bugged her most was, the man was someone she never saw before. It was something her mind conjured up, it musta been. Nothing like that existed anyway, not with those terrible burning eyes.

She found that the box held many small pieces of paper with scribbles on them. Phone numbers and names, addresses and sometimes a note about who they were. Sophia remembering that she had lost a list of contacts, was extremely happy about finding them once more. There is a certain amount of joy that comes with unearthing your networking tools, finding old friends, and rekindling the flame. Sophia has all of this in her head, playing through the joy as much as she can, as if to outweight the negative force. She looked through them, each name bringing forth a memory, or a hint of who it was and where she met them. She's certain that she met all of the people that were in this box, by condition and necessity.

Judith Roles: phone number, 887-4594. Nothing she remembers about that one, another, Anderson Stiles: phone number, 998-7785, nothing either. There were quite a bit of these names and numbers, so she sorted through them, every so often she stopped, Josie Candershan, no number, but the note that said, "Bakery, West Broadway, Macdonald." This meant little to Sophia, as she knew that was very far away from her. Perhaps it was when she lived over in Kitsilano, and the bakery there had been the sight where she met someone named Josie. She'd never see that person again, not without a number, an address, or some kind of reference.

Still, she met a lot of people and claimed she'd never forget them, well, of course she would. Life was so random and complex, how'd anyone remember anyone is truly an amazing notion. Why people believed her was another puzzling thing. She shuffling through more names when something struck her, and she saw the word, Watch. The word was striking out at her before she saw the rest of the words printed in pencil, scrawled out on a torn out notebook page. It read, "Watch, Newbrough. 897-5540." She found it. Or had she? It all seemed too easy? And for some reason, like it or not, she was eager to find what else was in this box. Though, she was wary of the images, the sudden shocks, and terrible diseases locked away in places like this. She trudged on taking the rest of the box apart. The box held a file folder, full of pictures, newscliping from an accident that happened 12 years ago on a stretch of highway between Kelowna and Vancouver, off of the Coquhalla highway.

Sophia remembered that she was once a journalist doing a piece on this accident, and had to dig up a lot of news about the developing story and previous accidents involving a drunk driver that took part in this accident, inparticular. The drunk driver, a broken spine and a head injury, suffered massive concussion, survived but was confined to a wheelchair for the rest of his life. The other, mother of two, though no kids were with her at the time suffered whiplash and a massive concussion. She got off easy, and admitted in the newsclipping that she was very lucky. She was a born again christian from then on and helped the drunk driver to live life to the fullest. One odd comment on a paragraph Sophia had written ages ago, was the lost Golden Watch that had been belonging to the drunk driver at one point, or another. The man, Gary Stelisa, could never quite recall where he got the watch from and everyone agreed his drinking had finally caught up with him. Sophia was about to dismiss it as the same, except that it was described to what she possessed now. The object would not of otherwise been mentioned, except that the drunk driver could clearly remember it. Sophia had written that it was just an excuse for the recklessness that was going on. And, perhaps it was, very well might have been actually.

Sophia looked about at the various stories she found regarding the history of the drunk driver. He was ex-military, and had served with the marines in Vietnam. As well, he was also in Kuwait with peacekeepers. Sophia realized then, the watch changed hands before ever reaching her. This meant, that if any number she called now would only lead to someone else who had the same questions she did. She frowned realizing that, yes, it wasn't going to be that easy. It never was after all.

She found a description from the drunk driver of the watch and then, finding her work coat, she digged out the watch to compare. "Golden, oh yeah, gold all over. Real gold too, not that fake stuff you find nowadays. I was heavy too, 'cause gold's heavy ya know. Anyway, I had it for years. I just found it one day, or other. Aw, hell, I can't remember. It was gone though. Really gone, like after the car hit me, It went flying out of my hand and out the window. I couldn't even look for it after, but I kept telling people, 'I lost my watch. Where'd my fucking watch go.' at the hospital right?... But no go. I lost the damn thing. It was all white where the hands were, and the roman numerals, with golden hands. Yeah, they sparkled some if you held 'em up right against the light." The message went on then, trying to pick her up for a date. Sophia smiled remembering how she causually 'misplaced' that section of the interview when she transcribed it to paper.

She realized that she has to call the number she found, in order to get to the bottom of this mystery that wouldn't let her go. She put the watch in the pocket of her sweat pants and continued to look through the file on this accident. A lot of it was commited to other parts of the accident, and little to no mention of the golden watch were found. She closed it up putting it carefully back into the box. The file folder went back into the bottom of the box beside the box of contacts that she also put back. She took out a bigger box that was piled against the file folder. This one was the heavy part of the box. She set it out on the floor careful to keep the one contact she had separate as not to lose it.

The heavy box, with it's lid uncovered, had a lot of cameras in it. Three or four, big ones, and they looked to be digital and another one that was older. She checked, by popping the lid on the back, of the large older camera and finding no film in it. She checked the digital camera's. They both had battery power and they showed no pictures on them at all. She thought it odd that these were blank and then it occured to her. She put these away if she ever took up Journalism again. She remembered the day she put the box away, just then. When she changed her career and put her old life away. This was a few years ago too.

She remembered, she said to herself, "I'm not a grunt anymore, I'm a lady!" She sighed thinking back on those words. She had bad gas that day too, when she put her old life away into this closet. It was things like that, the body's smells and events that happened now and again, that made her remember days and times of important events. She put the camera's back into the box and leaving the contact on the carpet, she carefully picked the box up and carried it back to where she originally found it. After she returning to her room, she picks up the number and decides to give this person, mysterious as it was, a call and see what she could dig up.

There was another reason she hated digging up the past. It was as if a spirit was awakened from the dead, into the world of the living, into the thousands of untold miles of her soul. A bat back from hell, ready to stalk and destroy the world once more. She found it easy to find the courage, doing a cold call was something she did a lot of when she was a journalist. It stuck with her like walking. A lady yes, but deep down, she was a grunt through and through. A few rings came from her cordless phone in her room. Then a female voice, sounding young answers, "Hello, Angela speaking. Who is calling?" and Sophia, as if by instinct carried the conversation from there. "Hello, my names Sophia Newbrough, I'm doing an article about an old watch for a jewelers magazine, The Sparkling Stone. And I was wondering, could I have a few moments of your time?" Sophia, knowing it was a complete lie, had to sound professional for anything to come off in her favour. The other voice, sounding curious, replies "Sure, I have a few moments. I come across a lot of old watches, I'm a collector. Let me just check here and see. You said your name was Newbrough?" and Sophia replies, "Yes, that's right. I may have received the watch from you at a previous date, but for the life of me, I can't remember when that was. If you have any records.." and the voice said, "Yes, I was just searching into my records here. It'll just take a moment." At that point, Sophia hears clicks of a mouse and some typing. A PC keyboard, Sophia was sure of that, and likely an optical mouse too.

After a few minutes, the voice on the other end said, "Yes here we are, Newbrough. Received Golden Watch on November 12th, for 66.79$. I don't remember this but that' why I have records. It shows here you paid in cash too." Sophia was a bit unsettled by this news. She always had records of purchases like that. And, wondered why it didn't stick in her mind. "Well thanks, that answer some of my questions, Angela. Would you have any idea when and how it came into your possession?" Sophia asked with an interest evident in her voice. She could easily mimic emotions the right way to play off anything. It helped in getting places, and more with getting information. Whatever someone believes helps her get to her goal a little faster. "Oh, well. I can look into that for you, Sophia. It'll just take a minute here." And Sophia said, "Thank you very much, Angela."

"Yes, here it is. We received it from an Austrian, Andre Streizenkurg about 20 years ago. Though there isn't a note about where it came before that. I'm sorry that's all I can give you Sophia. I do hope your article goes well. Good luck!" and Sophia said, "Thanks Angela. I'm sure it will and have a good day." Sophia hung up then having a name. Andre, Streizenkurg. She scrambled for a pen and a paper, immediately putting the name to memory by writing it down. Using the unknown connection between the arm and the brain.

By then it was reaching bed time, around 10pm. She stood by her bed and taking off her tightie whitie t-shirt that did nothing to hide her breasts underneth, she turned off all the lights in her apartment and slid into bed. And into a long and uneventful night's sleep.