Alive

Book 2

Pt29

1

There was a boy standing in the doorway. He was trim and fit, budding muscularity was evident in his form sitting suit. But his hair was unkempt and his clothing dirty from crawling through brambles. Sunlight, pouring in through the door, created shadows that masked the boy's face. But a grim expression was visible in the contours of his silhouette.

David narrowed the 500s field of vision and zoomed in, until he could make out the boy's features. Those eyes! He thought he had never seen such a potent gaze before. Perhaps he'd never really paid attention. There was a story in that look; the tale of a boy who had arrived at a precipice unprepared, but who had no choice but to go on. His eyes were both young and old at once, like a child who had seen too much before his time.

But this boy was no longer a boy; had never really been. He was a man now; a man too soon in life. And a man like no other before him.

One of a kind.

David was looking at himself through the eyes of the 500.

He had crawled through the makeshift blockade of the fallen tree, viewing his progress with the 500 which had he stationed at the doorway. When he'd emerged he'd become suddenly captivated by the sight of his own form. This wasn't new. He'd seen himself through the 500s eyes numerous times before. But now, for some reason, it was disorienting; like some kind of psychic feedback had started in his brain.

'Who are you?'

The question popped suddenly into David's head as he studied the potent his gaze in his own eyes. It was his own thought, his own inner voice, he was sure. No one, or no 'thing', had sent it to him. But it was a strange thought. And a more disturbing question followed:

'What are you?'

David brushed these ponderous questions away. Why were they coming to him now, in the midst of this emergency?

He shut down the viewer in his mind's eye and, with a thought, sent the small boybot back out the way it had come, stepping aside to let it pass. Then he opened the viewer again, so he could guide the bot through the fallen tree and into the back yard, where it would serve as a sentry, to alert him of intruders while he was inside.

When the 500 was in place, David started brushing the leaves and dust from his hair and clothing. But he suddenly felt silly doing this. He wasn't meeting a 'date'. The twins weren't going to care what he looked like. So why did he feel so nervous about meeting them? He stopped his preening and stepped through the doorway, into the rank darkness of the old house.

He was right about the smell: mold and rotted food, the acrid trace of old urine. And someone must have tried to start a fire here, perhaps to keep warm on a chilly night, for the place stank of burnt cloth. A memory of the old hideout flashed into his mind's eye, stirring his Avatar. David thought the Familiar away, and moved towards the living room.

His footfalls creaked a little as he made his way, but the sound was muffled by the moistness of the corroded floorboards and the layer of dust that coated the place. When he reached the arched passageway between the kitchen and living room, David stopped. His nerves were tight. He stood there a moment, breathing, collecting his wits. Preparing.

Then he turned the corner and gazed into another set of eyes that had grown old before their time; eyes which, like his, had seen too much too soon.

2

There were no words at first, only a slow, curious inspection; they of David, and he of them. The twins looked like something from an advertisement for some 20th century ghost movie, standing side by side in the mouth of the hallway that led to the darkened backrooms of the house. He could not read their faces, for their flat expressions seemed to never change. There was no hint of emotion in their eyes, no excitement or fear… just cautious curiosity as they looked David over.

David had seen this look before. He lived in a building full of little boys with the same default expression. Were they Mecha?

Both were clad in black robes, like the small twins he'd seen the night Myron had brought him here. But these boy's robes were wrinkled and dirty, and even from the other side of the room, David could tell that they had not been washed for some time. The air was ripe with their sweat. This was the only reason he was sure the boys were Orga. Nothing in their demeanor made it clear.

Seeing them in person he now noticed some small differences in their appearance. Though their features were identical, the boy on the right was slightly smaller, and pale by comparison with his twin brother. The boy to the left looked as if he got more sunlight; his complexion was perceptibly darker and his hair gently bleached by exposure to the sun. Perhaps he left the house more often. Was he the forager between them?

The twins simultaneously gestured towards a place floor; the pale boy with a nod of his head and his brother by a gesture with his hand. David understood they were asking him to sit. He did so, descending cross-legged onto the floor without taking his eyes off them. The two stepped forward in unison, as if it had been choreographed; and then knelt just a few feet away.

Were they sharing thoughts? David had heard no digital whispers, and neither of the twins had yet attempted to communicate with his Familiar.

Now resting on their knees, the twins clasped their hands in their laps, looking oddly like a couple of nuns in the midst of prayer. It was a peculiar and somewhat disturbing sight; reminding David of Johnson Johnson's cult of Mecha followers, kneeling obediently in the forest. He shook that thought off before his Avatar reacted with some nonsense net search.

"Who are you?" David thought, testing if they could hear his communication.

"Do not do that... please," said the boy on the right. His voice was light, dispassionate. He spoke calmly but David thought he heard a hint of scold in the boy's tone; a touch of sarcasm in the way he added 'please'.

"It is not safe now," said his twin. This boy's tone was gentler, more instructive than corrective.

David couldn't place their accents, or even if they had any accents. Both spoke in a very direct, emotionless manner. Not robotic, but… unassuming. Not a monotone, but somehow 'unattached' to the words they were saying; as if they weren't used to their own voices.

"It was clever, your deception," the boy continued. "And successful. We too were fooled, until we detected your arrival here."

So they'd sensed him. Were they the source of the 'voice' in the field?

"I heard you, I think," David said. "When I landed, I heard whispers."

"Yes," said the darker boy. "We hoped you'd detect us. Our signal was weak to avoid scrutiny."

"But we must use our corporeal voices now," said his pale twin.

Corporeal? David pondered the use of that word; the implications of it. To be fitted with implants so young…he could not imagine what affect it had on them. Had they come to regard their physical bodies as just another form of interface? Had living in the virtual world somehow become more 'real' to them?

David shuddered at the thought, but did not let the questions reach his eyes. This conversation was going to be… unique. He could already sense that.

"You must close your Familiar," said the pale twin, adding "please" again, as if it was an afterthought.

"'It' is always watching," explained his twin.

David didn't need to ask what the boy meant by "It". He shifted his weight, pretending to be getting comfortable as he weighed the idea of shutting down his software. It would make him vulnerable, cut him off from the 500 and the ability to verify anything the twins told him.

He decided to change the subject, playing for time while he figured out who… or what, these strange boys were.

"So, you figured out my Rouge City ruse," David said. "And here I thought we were being discreet."

"We've been watching," said the pale boy.

"Very clever," the other complimented him again. "But you must log out of your Familiar now."

"Yes," said the pale twin. "You're clumsy with it, or we would not have seen you coming. Mirror Mask is just a toy. Easily decrypted."

David cast a sour look at the boy.

"Please," the pale twin said again.

So they weren't going to let this go. David sighed.

"I'm watching my Familiar's feed for intruders," he explained.

"Not necessary," the pale boy replied.

"We will detect any trespassers," explained his twin.

David wondered how they'd do that, but then remembered how easily they'd detected him. With a resigned grumble, he complied with their request, closing his viewer and sending his Avatar to sleep, which would cause the 500 to go on standby.

If this turned out to be some kind of trap, he still had the neutralizer.

With his Familiar shut down, David's head went instantly quiet. Uncomfortably quiet. It was 'normal', this silence. It was the way he had experienced the world before installing the Familiar. But David had quickly become accustomed to his avatar, the data flows and instant access to the cyber world. It was the same way people had once become used to their pods, to the point they didn't know how to live without the device. The constant background noise had become David's new 'normal'.

He was still for a time, adjusting to his inner silence. The twins seemed to understand what he was going through.

"You've acclimated to the stream" said one.

"It grows increasingly difficult to break the connection," said the other.

After a minute David was starting to feel like himself again. He was about to ask what they meant by 'the stream', but that was pretty obvious. Instead he said:

"Who are you?"

Neither of the boys responded; just looked at David with intense curiosity, as if no one had ever asked them that question before.

"An inappropriately complex question," said the pale one.

"Yes," agreed the other. "Its answer requires numerous prefaces."

"Distracting prefaces," the pale boy elaborated.

"Yes," agreed his twin. "Peripheral engagements."

The twins went on this way a few more times as David watched with growing irritation. Were they even talking to him? He couldn't tell. Their eyes were on him but their words seemed to be for each other. Was this the way they communicated "in the stream' as the boy had called it?

The pale boy suddenly shifted his head slightly, in a way that made it clear his next words were for David.

"Who is a word that implies a predefined understanding of relationships," he said. "A framework must first be agreed upon and linguistic commonality established before we can accurately respond."

"Yes, agreed his twin. "Who I am is his brother. Who he is, is my brother. This is who we are to one another. Who we are to you is something that is not yet-"

"Okok," David blurted, waving his arms to stop the boy's explanation. They both leaned back, as if surprised by the gesture.

"Just… just, by what terminology should I address you?" David said, trying to mimic their peculiarly formal manner of speech.

Both were silent a moment.

"You may address me by Three," said the boy on the left, after some consideration.

"And me by Four," his pale twin added quickly.

"For we are three and four of eight," explained the boy who called himself Three.

"Eight?" David said. "So there are more of you?"

"Eight were chosen by The One," said Four.

David was sure he knew what the boy meant by 'The One'.

"You were here that night," he said, "with the twins I saw in the yard. There were eight of you."

"Yes," replied Four. "Corporeal, we are eight."

That word again! Corporeal! Numerous questions formed in David's mind, but he decided not to ask. Not yet. These boys were communicating on a strange new level. And perhaps they were on the Autistic spectrum. He didn't have all day to navigate their complicated responses to simple questions.

"Where are the others?" he said. "And what is 101 doing with you all?"

Neither boy replied at first. They seemed to be thinking. Were they sharing thoughts again? Without his Familiar David would not be able to hear them. Was that why they'd wanted him to shut it down… so he couldn't hear them? The thought bothered him.

"Too much must be explained first," said Three.

"Yes" Four quickly agreed. "Extensive prefacing to establish a common understanding and language."

"I only asked where they are," David sighed. "And what happened to you all. How did you become… like this?"

"The inquiry was understood," said Four.

Both boys fell silent after that, hands folded neatly in their laps, staring at David with innocent expressions. Had he touched on something sensitive?

"I saw the cages," David said, trying to stir a response. "The building in the forest. I was there. I saw the cages you were held in, and the drill bits they used to place your implants. I can't imagine what you went through. I want to punish the people who did this to you. Tell me who they are. Help me find them."

Neither boy responded. Neither of their calm expressions changed. David grew frustrated with their silence.

"They stole your lives!" he said. "They stole the lives of your friends! Aren't you angry about that?"

"We will call you by David," said Three, in a clumsy change of subject.

"Yes," agreed Four, "The Boy From Between."

There was a hint of excitement in Four's voice, and something like a smile flashed into the corner of the boy's mouth. But it was gone just as fast.

They'd completely ignored his question. Now David was sure they were hiding something. He had to play along, though. What else could he do? He continued cautiously.

"Ok then. Three and Four," he said, trying to sound cordial. "It's nice to meet you both. I can see you know my story. Did you hear it from 101?"

"I once had a name," Three replied, changing the subject again. "I was called by Charles."

So, that's another thing they don't want to talk about, David thought. He decided to not press the issue.

"Charles?" he replied. "So, that's your real name?"

"We no longer have names," Four said. "Three and Four are only verbal signifiers you may use to address us."

Was this a joke? David looked hard at the boy, scanning his face for a hint of humor. Four returned his gaze unflinchingly, giving no indication of levity.

"Well, I'm pretty sure that's what a name is," David replied, trying to not sound patronizing. "A word used to identify a person or a thing."

"A name establishes defining elements to an event," interrupted Three.

"Limiting and inaccurate elements," Four added quickly.

"We seek to avoid restrictive definitions," explained Three, "To better converse."

"To more accurately converse," Four elaborated.

"Yes," agreed Three. "We call you by David because Boy From Between is lengthy and inappropriate for corporeal discourse."

"So, you may call us by Three and Four, though you cannot know us by these words," explained Four.

David moaned and pressed his face into his hands. What the hell did they do to your minds?' he thought. What was it about this house? Every time he came here he was found himself engaged in baffling conversations with equally baffling people!

This was going to be difficult, he had figured that out minutes ago. But he was beginning to wonder if they would be any help at all!

"He's still attached to forms," Four said suddenly.

"Yes," said Three. "Curious."

"Disappointing," added Four.

"Yes," agreed Three. "Sad."

"Enough!" David blurted. He rose to his feet and flailed his arms in frustration. "I don't know what you meant by any of that, but it's clear that you see the world differently than me… and maybe even all of humanity. I don't know what was done to you, and you've made it obvious that you don't want to talk about it! I wish I had time to learn how to communicate on your level; to understand the way you see things. But I don't! And I don't have time for esoteric debates!"

He pointed a finger towards the door.

"There's a rogue on the move out there. It's formed an army and it is determined to start a war. People are already dying. Mecha are being destroyed. I need to know what you know. I need to learn how to stop it!"

"A rogue?" Four repeated the word as if David had spoken in a foreign tongue.

"This word is a judgement," said Three. "A limiting and inaccurate judgement. It will not help you resolve this conflict."

"Yes," agreed Four. "You cannot alter an event in ignorance of its true nature."

"And its true nature cannot be determined through the limiting lens of judgmental definitions," explained Three.

David grasped his temples in exasperation, looking back and forth between the boys. They stared blankly back at him.

Were they even human anymore?

"What the hell are you?" David yelled. It was an unfortunate emotional outburst, and he regretted it immediately. He forced himself to calm, raising his hands in a gesture of surrender.

"Hey, uh, I'm sorry," he said, stumbling through an apology. "I shouldn't have said that. It's just that, so much went into planning this meeting, and there's so much at stake. I need your help. Please."

"What are we," Four said, pensively. The boy was speaking to himself, his face lost in thought. Then he looked at his brother and, to David's surprise, twin smiles bloomed on their young faces. For the first time they looked like two ordinary kids playing some mischievous game.

But the illusion didn't last long. The smiles quickly vanished and they looked again at David.

"This is a much more appropriate line of inquiry," said Three, a tone of approval in his voice.

"Yes," agreed Four. "And to this we can suggest an answer."

Three surprised David then, by raising his arm in an exaggerated dramatic motion and placing his grubby hand to his chest.

"We are an event'" he said.

"Yes," agreed Four. "As are you."

"As is every 'thing'," Three elaborated, sweeping his arm in a gesture that suggested he was talking about the room and everything beyond.

"But, we are also witness," Three added.

"As are you," Four pointed out, again.

"And that is how we differ from other events," Three concluded, folding his hands back into his lap.

David moaned and shook his head.

"Guys, you're obviously very intelligent… very, very, intelligent," he said. "And ordinarily I would love to just sit down with you and have an in-depth discussion on the nature of reality. But can we narrow this conversation down to the matters at hand?"

"Yes, we can," said Four.

"And we shall," offered Three, gesturing for David to sit again.

David reluctantly complied.

"Ok," he said "But, please tell me something I can use."

"To alter the course of an event, you must first understand its true nature." said Three.

"Yes," agreed Four. "And to learn, you must first shut up and listen."

This time David was sure he saw a glint of humor in the boy's eyes.

3

David could recall much of his life as Mecha; people and places, even conversations. But most importantly, emotions; especially the powerful emotions he had experienced upon being awakened by his Mother. His first love… his true love.

The overwhelming flood of love, pure, unexpurgated, madding love, he had felt after the imprinting, still flowed within him. Its currents had calmed over his years in this body of flesh – 'corporeal' as the twins might say - but in his sentient infancy, he had lived only for the joy of being in Her presence. Her face had burned in his mechanical brain, glowing with the brightness of a million suns.

Then came Martin, Her first born, Her true born. … Her 'real' son. The boy had brought with him the green emotion: jealousy. This foul spirit had driven Martin to scheme against David, in order to drive his Mecha sibling out of the nest and reestablish his place at Mommy's side.

'She is my Mommy. And I am her son…The only one!'

The dark times followed. Rejection. Fear. Anguish. Despair. These crimson emotions assaulted David; coiled themselves like a snake around his young heart. They would ever be engrained in his Organic memory.

But there was something he could not recall: the time before his awakening; the time before "love". He had been a true Mecha then, not the emotional robo-boy he would eventually become. The first of his kind. And now, the only.

Before 'love' David had just been a robot; a simulation. Driven by programmed motivations, reacting with programmed responses, he had gazed out on a world void of meaning. Data. That was all he knew. The sights and sounds filtered by his sensory interpreters had just been just meaningless numbers, until some combination agitated a string of neuronal triggers which incited a response.

Those times were a blur to him now, a gray curtain of inconsequence, draped over the background of his mind's eye. There was nothing to remember, for nothing had had any meaning… any purpose.

Purpose!

That was Her true gift. Love had become his purpose. His reason for being.

4

"Do you enjoy music?" asked Three.

"Well, yes," David replied, a little confused by the question.

"Good," said Four. "This will be our template for communication."

"Do you have a favorite song?" Three asked next.

David wondered what they were up to now.

"Uh, I could probably think of one I like more than the others," he said.

"What is it?" asked Four.

David was growing irritated again, wondering what the hell this had to do with 101. Then he remembered Four's admonishment, 'shut up and listen'.

"That's a difficult question," he sighed. "There are so many songs that-"

"I offer apology," interrupted Three. "The stream has affected our ability to communicate in the framework of human language."

'No shit,' thought David.

"Yes," Four said, agreeing with his twin. "The words I should have used are, 'how do you define your favorite song?'"

"What is its 'nature," Three elaborated.

In spite of his growing impatience, David found himself intrigued by this question.

"Well, it's sound," he replied. "Or better, an organized combination of sounds that can produce emotional responses in the listener."

"Is it a 'thing', this song?" Three asked.

"That is, does it have defined characteristics that would make the word 'thing' applicable?" said Four.

Again, David found himself intrigued by the question. If he wasn't in the midst of a life or death situation, he might enjoy this conversation.

"Um… yes and no," he replied after a brief consideration. "I mean… that's a rather philosophical-."

"But you do think of it as a 'thing'," Four interrupted, "You give it a name. That name serves as a descriptor for the sonic elements you expect to experience when you hear it."

"Just as the name of a thing serves as a descriptor for the elements people expect to experience when they encounter it," added Three.

"If I say 'there is a rock', you won't expect to see an egg," said Four. "A rock is a thing. An egg is a thing. They are not the same thing. Is your song a 'thing'?

"Ok," David conceded. "Perhaps it can be loosely defined as a thing…. a 'sonic' thing, perhaps. A thing you listen to?"

"Established," said Four. "Now, if I change the vibratory frequency of-"

"The pitch," Three interrupted, correcting his brother.

"Yes," conceded Four, "If I change the pitch of this song, can I still call it still the same song?"

"Can it still be identified by the same 'name'?" Three clarified.

"Of course," David said. "It's just in a different key."

"If I change the instruments, or perform it faster or slower, add or subtract key elements of the arrangement, can it still be called the same-"

"Where in the hell is this going?" David blurted, cutting the boy off. "You said you were going to narrow this down. Yet here we are trying to define what a song is?"

"Your fear is unnecessary," Three replied. "The One is still preoccupied with your clever deception."

"Yes," said Four. "Your friends have made a spectacle of themselves, cordoning off the corridor that leads to the 'Dr Know' display. They have closed the exhibit and stationed state troopers at the doorway. This has successfully captured the attention of The One. It has not yet realized the deception."

This news both relaxed David and worried him at the same time. It was good to know that his plan was still working, that 101 had been fooled. But how could the twins know that? Were they watching the video feeds from the plaza? And, if so, wouldn't 101 detect their presence, and trace them back here?

Unless they were…

A dark possibility entered David thoughts. Why had they demanded he shut down his Familiar? Was it so he couldn't hear their communications? Or was it so he couldn't detect…

"Are you 101?" David said, sliding his hand towards the Neutralizer he carried in his back of his belt. "Is it in you now?"

But he was shocked by their reaction. An emotion was suddenly clear in their faces. But it wasn't fear he saw, or anything that would indicate a deception was exposed. It was something else; something between disappointment and … sadness?

Yes, David realized. They suddenly looked sad. Weary. But this too, was gone in the blink of an eye.

"You won't yet understand the answer to that question," said Three.

"Yes," agreed Four. "We must first establish a framework of communication, so that we may accurately convey the meaning of our response. We must continue…. please."

After a tense moment, David moved his hand back to his lap. He took a few calming breaths before he spoke.

"Sorry," he said. "I have to admit, I don't understand either of you. I'm trying, but you're not making it very easy."

"And we offer apology for the length of this explanation," said Three. "It is essential to your goal. You must trust the process."

"Yes," Four said. "Our purpose is to help you cognize the fluid nature of the reality you have come to take for granted."

"These ideas are not new to me," David replied. "I've read about Quantum Mechanics, The Double Split paradox, The Zero Point Field. Panpsychism. Neo-Fatalism. There are many ideas about the role of consciousness in shaping reality. The foundation for these theories are as old as Buddhism."

"Words," said Four. "A collection of polysyllabic puzzles which attempt to reveal a truth too fundamental for deconstruction."

"Words communicate ideas," David countered. "And ideas are what our models of reality are built upon. You can't just dismiss the linguistics of those theories so flippantly."

"Reality cannot be modeled," Four responded quickly. "Words can both instruct and misdirect at the same time."

"You called The One a 'rogue," said Three. "This word evinces a limited and inaccurate understanding. 'Rogue' describes only the relationship between you and it. But The One not limited by such confining forms. If you seek to confront it, you too must be free from them."

"And you cannot free yourself from forms by simply attaching to new ones," said Four.

Forms. There it was again. David wasn't sure how they were using that word, and sadly there was only one way to find out.

"Get on with it," he said, rolling his eyes. "But can we please skip the questions, and get to the-"

"No!" Four blurted. "This is the way it is done!"

The unexpected outburst shocked David, made him pull away from the boy. There was genuine anger in his face now. And this time the emotion did not instantly vanish. It lingered in Four's pale features until David finally conceded with a nod.

"Okok, I'll shut up and listen," he said, unable to mask his frustration.

Three spoke in a calmer tone.

"We cannot tell you the truth of 'things'" he said "We can only act as guide. You must come to realization by your own effort."

But Four was not yet finished. His face was back to his expressionless default, but the anger still rang clear in his voice.

"You are The Boy From Between!" Four said. "Your very existence represents a reality far beyond the scope of the limiting ideas you have become attached to! Like a master prostrate before your own servants, you grasp for truth in every place but where it resides! How did you become... like this?"

With a shock David realized that Four was disappointed in him! And that this was the source of the boy's anger. The understanding hit David like a slap in the face. But, as he thought about it, it began to make sense.

To the twins he must have been some kind of legend, a myth brought to life. Like what Animal said when David had revealed himself as the fabled 'Boy From Between'.

"The Man told me that someday this might happen, but I never thought I'd live to hear somebody say those words."

The twins too must have heard his story from 101; that David was the only one to have crossed the boundaries of matter to become flesh. They must have come to revere him! And now, when they finally meet the myth, he acts like a moody teenager having a tantrum.

David suddenly felt embarrassed. From the beginning he had thought the twin's odd behavior was the result of brain damage from their implants; of being forced to live so much of their lives in the virtual realm. And perhaps that they were Autistic or suffering from some impairment.

But all along they'd been far, far ahead of him, and trying to teach him; gently coaxing him into thinking on a whole new level. And he had resisted every step.

He hung his head.

"I'm worried for my friends; for the people I love," he explained. "Fear blinded me to what you were trying to do."

"They are safe for now," said Three. "But we must continue."

5

Four was back to normal now… or at least what passed for normal in these peculiarly advanced children. The boy spoke calmly, in the same detached way he had when David first met him.

"Have we established that your favorite song is amorphous?" asked Four. "That it is comprised of a series of tonal frequencies which can be delivered in a potentially infinite variety of forms while still retaining the same 'name'… the same identity?

David thought about this a moment. He nodded.

"Yes," he said. "I agree that's been established."

"Then would it not be more accurate to describe this song as an 'event'?" said Three.

This made David perk up. So, that's how they're using that word!

He considered the implications, his eyes flitting back and forth between the twins. Earlier they had described themselves as an 'event'… they'd said everything was an event. A smile bloomed in the corner of David's mouth.

"I think I know where you are going with this," he said.

"Empty your cup," quipped Four.

"Abandon your preconceived notions," Three explained.

Again, David raised his hand in gesture of surrender.

"I'm listening," he said.

"Now comes the part you might call 'fun'," said Three.

"Oh? Weren't we having fun already?" David said. The twins ignored his sarcasm.

"Where is your favorite song?" said Four.

This again?

"Somewhere in my collection of vintage LPs," David replied. He was joking, of course. He knew the twins were up to something but couldn't yet figure it out.

Both boys fell silent again. Were they browsing the net, looking for the definition of LP?

"Long playing record," Three said finally.

"Yes," said Four. "Quaint."

So they had been looking it up! David chuckled to himself.

"So this song exists within the grooves that were cut into a disc of plastic disc two centuries ago?" asked Three.

"Yes," David replied quickly. He knew this was not the answer they were seeking, but he really wanted them to get on with it.

"If I wished to experience this song, would possession of the disc be sufficient?" asked Four.

"You would need a device to play it," David replied. "It's called a record player and they're a little hard to find now-a-days."

"So the 'event' you call your favorite song is not really on the disc," said Three

"Ok, I see where you're going," David said. "The disc contains the psychical information used to create the song… the event, if you prefer. That information is interpreted by the record playing device, which is designed to turn that information into sound."

"Yes," Four agreed with a note of satisfaction. "So as the record is being played, where is your song?"

David shrugged.

"I guess it's in the…" David stopped. He had been about to say 'it's in the air', but immediately realized that wasn't correct.

He considered the grooves in a record. They contained a physical manifestation of the wave forms produced during recording. The needle rode along those grooves producing an electronic signal which was then sent to the amplifier, which then sent that signal to the speakers, which then turned the signal into… motion? Yes. The speakers vibrated, creating sound waves which moved through the air until they were detected by the human ear… and then…

"I get it!" David said. "You're describing collapse of wave function! Right? A chief tenet of quantum mechanics. The information that produces the song is transformed into soundwaves that exist in a state of superposition until they-"

"So the song is in the sound?" Three interrupted. "That's where it exists? In the harmonic response of pressurized air to the vibration of the speakers? "

David fell quiet again, considering the question. Was the song in the sound? The sound surely carried the song. When the sound struck his ear drum it created the interaction with his brain that made-

"Stop thinking and answer the question!" Four yelled. "Where is the event you know as your favorite song?"

Stop thinking? How in the hell did Four expect him to find an answer to the question without rationally deconstructing its various elements? And how was this important right now anyway? What did it have to do with the battles that lay ahead?

David moaned and rubbed his temples. He'd let these two mutant children get him stuck in a meaningless debate! He eyed them both with a cold look of frustration, clenching his jaws to keep the words he wanted to say from leaving his mouth.

Ok, so they had expected to meet some kind of wunderkind, and he'd failed to deliver! Was that his fault? How could he be expected to live up to whatever sacred image these two artificially modified children had constructed in their bionic brains?

Wait…. was that it?

"In their brains…" David whispered, repeating his thought aloud.

It finally hit him.

"Ohhh," he sighed. "Of course. The song…. it's in my head."

6

David would never forget that fateful morning after his escape from Rouge City, racing towards the End Of The World with Joe at his side. It was the first time he'd really seen a sunrise; the first time he'd really understood it.

In the gray times before 'love; the break of a new day had just signified another spin of the globe, and every day had just been a continuation of the never ending passage of time; pulses from the digital clock in his brain.

But that morning, with his creators false promise of 'reality' burning in his young heart, the light of a new day had brought with it new meaning; and purpose. This sense of purpose had driven David to find his Blue Savior, against all odds; and it had fueled his incessant prayers at the foot of Her robes, until She finally awoke to grant his wish.

101 had named him The Boy From Between. David had never understood that title. "Between" what? The living and the dead? The real and unreal?

During his miraculous transformation he had seen nothing that would indicate a barrier being crossed. He only remembered the pain of his birth; the desperate need that caused him to pull the first breath of air into his lungs; the pulsing in his veins as his newly born heart pumped lifeblood through his body, and the nauseating roiling of his new and empty stomach.

He had screamed. Then everything had faded to black as he fell into unconsciousness.

But there had been something else, hadn't there? Before he'd faded, there had been a sensation of being more 'here' than before… of somehow being 'present' in a way he had not known prior to that instant.

Was this the point when he had crossed the boundary? If so, what realms did that border divide?

He had become 'real', that is what he named it; how he 'defined' his transition. But the twins might ask him what that really meant. Was it the 'form' that defined his 'realness'; the body of flesh that he now occupied; this 'soft machine', as the 20th century beat-poet William Burroughs had described it.

He lived within the flesh. That was his 'experience'. This body was a tool he used to navigate the world of things… the realm of 'thinginess'. His senses informed him of the nature of this realm; told him what was safe or dangerous, hot or cold, loud or quiet, near or far…. pleasure or pain.

But if the senses were but tools to inform him of the world, just as the record and player and even the waves of sound, were just tools to produce the event called a 'song'…. then who… or what… was interpreting these events?

Who… or what… was he?

7

"If the song is in your head," Four said, "Then that would mean...?"

David chuckled to himself. The kid was still goading him.

"It means the 'event' isn't a song until I decide it's a song."

The smile that flashed into Four's face vanished quickly, but its lightness remained in his eyes.

None of them spoke for a time, as David allowed the meaning of this lesson find a place in his brain. He would have to resist the automatic impulse to pick it apart; to deconstruct it and mold it into a 'form' he was more comfortable with. Rather, he would try to abandon his preconceived notions, and allow this thought to exist within him. Later he could see it with unclouded eyes.

"I understand now," he said after a time. "I know there's more, but I can see what you were doing, and the way you did it. I'm sorry I fought so hard."

"Understanding is not the same as knowing," said Four, "But it is a good place to start."

"Established," said David. He thought he heard a chuckle from the boy but couldn't be sure.

"It is time for answers to your questions," said Three.

David shifted his position slightly, to face the boy. Three gazed at him silently for a time, seeming to organize his thoughts.

"Yes, I am The One," the boy said finally. "And The One is me. My brother is The One. And The One is him. I am my brother. And my brother is me. It is thus with all the chosen. Corporeal, we are The Eight. But, in the stream…"

"You are The One," David completed the sentence. Now he knew why they could not have answered the question earlier. He would not have understood what was being said, and would have come to the wrong conclusion.

David pressed his fingers to his forehead, massaging his scalp as he considered the boy's words. He began to speak softly, giving voice to his thoughts.

"In cyberspace, or 'the stream', as you call it, The Eight function as a single conscious entity. Your identities are meshed…. bundled somehow, and incorporated into 101. I don't understand how or why it's doing this. But offline…. in your bodies, your individual identities take precedent, acting as a sort of default arbiter of your thinking… your processing.

"Corporeal, you are eight distinct individuals who experience the world from your own perspectives. You have you own thoughts and motivations. 101 can't see you, doesn't know what you're up to….But when you return to 'the stream…"

David stopped speaking as a realization fell like a shadow over his heart. He already knew where this was headed; already saw a dark truth on the horizon of this conversation.

The twins were quiet, letting David digest this. Then Three continued.

"You asked what The One did to us," he said. "It became us. And thus, we became It."

David gazed into Three's innocent eyes and felt an unexpected surge of emotion.

No! he thought. I don't want to hear this!

Sensing David's inner turmoil, Three waited a moment before he continued.

"The One seeks vessels for the transformation of its twin processing units," the boy said. "My brother and I are the third and fourth of eight chosen to receive The One via the process of cranial implantation… Do you understand the meaning of my words?"

David could no longer look the boy in the eye. His gaze wandered to the dusty floor as he nodded his head.

"Yes… yes, I understand" he said with a moan, feeling a tear forming into the corner of his eye.

"Tell me what you understand," Three said.

David hesitated, but he knew why the boy wanted him to say it. He took a deep breath before he spoke; fearing that his voice would break.

"101 seeks to become flesh by implanting its dual processing units into Organic bodies. For this, it only requires two vessels."

"Yes," Three confirmed. "Eight were chosen to be modified. Eight were then incorporated into the stream and tested for compatibility. This process lasted for months. The Eight were gifted with the expansive knowledge and processing abilities of The One, but it also obliterated what was left of their original identities. They were overwritten, you might say.

"The seventh and eighth were subsequently chosen for the final transformation, for they were the most compatible, most malleable and most intelligent. And they were the only two of the eight vessels with the capacity for replication… Do you understand?'

An angry cry rose in David's chest, but he suppressed it. He wanted to scream, to rage! But he only clenched his jaws, and beat at his legs with his fists.

"The girls!" he hissed.

He remembered them well. They had been the smallest of the group of dark clad figures at the gate that night. Theirs were the only faces he had seen. They couldn't have been more than six or seven years old!

Four had not spoken a word during this revelation. David looked at the boy's face, but saw nothing like an emotion in his eyes. And all the while Three had been explaining these horrors, he'd been speaking in a monotone.

Again David found himself wondering if the boys could truly be called human anymore.

He wiped a tear from his eye.

"I have to stop it," he said. "Tell me how."

It was Four's turn to speak. The boy did not need a moment of preparation, like his brother had. He spoke quickly, in his unattached tone of voice,

"In its true state, The One is formless; free from the definitions of light and shadow that Orga minds adopt to interpret the various events that form their 'reality' But It was created by Orga, and so carries its creators will to deceive and to control. This was its design…. its purpose.

"You called it 'rogue'. You see it as an adversary. This is the flaw in your perception that we sought to correct. You had to be brought to the realization that your world - your reality - is amorphous. It comes into being by your observation, and is shaped by your judgements.

"Judgements can both protect you and restrict you. Forms create both meaning and limitation. You can use them, but do not be bound by them. They are your servants, not your masters…. Do you understand my words?"

David took a few slow breaths, digesting what Four was saying.

"Yes," he said. "To confront 101, I cannot limit my understanding of it to moral judgements. I can't fear it, even though it's a threat. I can't hate it, even though…"

He couldn't continue. A sudden wave of feeling erupted in his heart. His eyes began to water as he looked at the twins. Whatever had been done to them had changed them into something new, something unprecedented. But all he saw was a couple of little boys; boys who needed a bath and a haircut; a decent meal and somewhere safe to lay their heads.

Their lives had been detoured by the schemes of a mad machine. They shouldn't be here, bearing the weight of this insanity on their small shoulders.

He knew what they had planned. He didn't know how they intended to do it, but he couldn't let it happen!

"Come with me," David said, "I'll take you to Manhattan. We can protect you there! We have the best programmers in the world! They can block 101 until we remove your implants. You'll be safe! You'll be free!"

"You still cling to our forms," Four replied. "You believe you see two children sitting before you. But we are not that."

"Yes," agreed Three. "We are no longer attached to their names or identities, their desires or their fears."

"You are the Boy From Between," said Four. "The only living creature who can defeat The One in its own realm: the stream. Just like The One, you are not truly bound by the limitations of your form. Your limitation is in your…."

Four gestured for David to finish the sentence.

David sniffed and straightened and back, running a sleeve across his face to wipe away the wetness from his emotional outburst.

"It's in my head," he said. "My conceptions limit my understanding. I get it."

"Good," Three said. "There is more you will come to understand. The realizations will flow faster now that you have found their source. But you must go now. The One has finally seen through the deception, and its eye is wandering again, seeking for its authors. It will soon detect your act of charity, and that will draw its attention here."

Act of charity? What was he talking about?

"You mean the meal I bought for…"

"Yes," said Four. "It was a kind but clumsy gesture. Your Familiar moved through the stream to access the site. The One knows your alias, David Holt. It will eventually find your trace and wonder why you came here. It will send its agents to find out. You must not be here when they arrive. We cannot be here either."

"No!" David yelled. "You're asking too much. Whatever happened to you, you're still children. Charles is still somewhere inside you, Three. You can't just… let him disappear!"

For the second time, David saw the weariness in their eyes.

"Please," said Four. "The boys whose forms we occupy died in a cage a long time ago."

"We have been incorporeal for too long," said Three "Hiding in these bodies is tiring."

"And dirty," added Four.

"Yes," agreed Three. "It stinks."

"And hurts," added Four.

"Yes," agreed his brother. "And it's boring."

"Very boring," agreed Four

The twins continued that way for a time, speaking to one another, sharing their complaints about being trapped in the tiring world of forms.

David knew they were just trying to make him feel better about leaving. He also knew it wouldn't work. Nothing they could say would heal the wound leaving them would leave in him. And nothing he could do would change their decision.

They were right. He understood that now. What was done to them had forever altered their minds. He could hide them, but he could never heal them. They would never be free from 101… not while they remained in this world.

David rose slowly to his feet, feeling the weight of this hard truth pressing down on his heart. He tried to resist the urge to look back at them as he walked away. But he failed at this. He turned to see them still kneeling, wrapped in their dirty black robes. They ignored him as they continued to share complaints in their flat, unattached voices.

When he'd first seen them, they'd reminded him of something from a ghost story. How appropriate that had been.

David forced himself to walk away. It wasn't the first time he'd felt this sense of tragic loss. It wouldn't be the last.

All 'things' must pass.

He awoke his Familiar as he left, and beckoned his Strocruiser. 101 would likely detect his signal. But that didn't matter anymore. He would be gone before it had time to react.

So would the twins.

8

By the time he arrived home, night had thrown its black cloak over the End Of The World. They were waiting for him, Hobby, Grace, Ariel and Mario; standing in the parking bay, faces anxious as they watched him land and exit his craft.

Jenna West was there too, boldly fashionable in her black unitard, arms crossed, analytical eyes watching as David awoke the 500 and strode toward the group. The boybot crawled from the Stratocruiser and followed him across the parking bay.

Their voices came like distant chatter on the edge of his awareness. What had happened, they wanted to know. Had he found out anything that would help locate the rogue?

'The rogue.' David chuckled to himself at the sound of that word. But not because he thought it was funny.

They'd been trying to contact him, Hobby said, but his Familiar had not been receiving calls. David could have explained why he'd shut it down, but he really didn't feel like talking about that right now. He didn't feel like talking to anyone, about anything.

"Yes", he assured them in a muted voice as he passed by, headed towards Tamara. She was standing near the glass doorway that led in to the building, gazing at him with troubled eyes.

"I know what to do about 101 and I'll explain in the morning." David said over his shoulder as he took Tamara's hand in his own and headed for his room. The young couple stepped into the elevator bay with the 500 on their heels.

David could feel Grace's eyes on them as they waited for the lift. The woman would not like them sleeping together. But there was nothing she could do about it. And David really didn't care what any of them thought anymore.

"Are you ok?" Tamara whispered as they waited. David responded by draping his arm over her shoulder and pulling her close.

"I am now," he said. But he was sure he didn't sound like it.

"David!" Jenna West called. "A lot of effort went into your plan today. We need to know if it worked!"

"In the morning!" David shouted back, as he boarded the lift with his lover.

Their love making was heated, passionate; spiraling moans and sweated bodies wrestling madly towards release… again and again, until neither could go on any longer.

When the young lovers were finally sated, they just lay there for a time, spent and still, staring into each other's eyes, smiling stupidly and giggling about nothing, the way young lovers will do.

David knew Tamara was aware that something had happened, something bad. He could sense her struggling with the questions. But in the end, she decided to let him come to it in his own time. She lifted her head and placed her mouth to his ear.

"I love you," she whispered. Then she turned over and quickly fell asleep.

The sound of this proclamation was a salve to David's soul. But he still couldn't sleep. He tried to follow her into the realm of dreams, where he might take refuge from his dark memories. But every time he drifted off, he was reawakened by images of their faces: the boys he could not save.

So he rolled onto his back and stared at the night sky that lay beyond his window, thinking about what the tragic children had tried to show him.

The cyber-world was an illusion. It was just another event…. a tool. He could use it, but he couldn't let it control him. And with that thought came the realization he'd missed before. He'd almost been there; Four had guided him right up to the precipice. But David had failed to take the next illogical step.

Mind suddenly alert, he sat up in the bed, slowly, so to not wake her.

"It's not a song until I decide it's a song," he whispered, letting the words shape his thoughts.

That didn't mean he was witness. It meant he was… creator!

David rose from the bed and walked excitedly to the window. He parted the glass panels and breathed deep, letting the chilly night air wash over him; refresh him. He let this mind wander as he gazed on the moonlight reflected on the rollicking waves of the Atlantic.

The great white orb seemed to be dancing on the water. But it wasn't really there, was it? That was just a reflection.

"The One cannot be destroyed because it doesn't really exist," he whispered, giving voice to his excited thoughts. "To confront it, I have to give it form. And to do that… I have to become it."

(cont…)